#while Humanity and/or another faction rise up together

[s-b-party]

Ena, HooH, and Xipe: Overseers of Balance

****Honkai star rail/Penacony including 2.1 spoilers ahead****

With 2.2 livestream today [I didn’t watch the livestream on the day it came out so this was written without knowing what was coming out soon but also….THE NEW BOSS????], I wanted to take a closer look at 3 Aeons in particular for this thread bc of the similarities between their concepts & also to look at possible roles/connections in the story of Penacony in particular

Since I normally analyze pairs of Aeons & this time we have 3, I’ll briefly introduce the 3 then I’ll talk about them in detail while trying to connect them to each other & the story

First is Ena, the Aeon of Order; they were absorbed by Xipe during the Swarm Disaster; they had a faction that followed them called the Beyond the Sky Choir which eventually stopped when they were absorbed

The second is HooH, the Aeon of Equilibrium; currently they are alive, their faction is the Arbitrators

The third is Xipe, the Aeon of Harmony; they are currently alive & their faction is the Family in Penacony

From Ena’s entry, we see they have a human-looking face or mask with an inner body that seems to encompass space & stars, giving off mostly blue & purple colors while their face, limbs, accessories, and veil have a white & gold palette; their arms have strings coming out from them which presents them like a puppet; another feature to note is the eye that appears besides them which has a gold outline and a blue and purple iris

Their symbol is represented by the icon of an eye, referring to the open eye that is present behind them in their art, with abstract shapes behind it; at first glance the symbol might not mean much when we look at it & it might look simple bc it’s just an eye but I feel that there may be more to it

The 3 circles & 3 sharp points are arranged in a way that doesn’t look randomized where if we were to divide it in half vertically, it would be balanced

Why does this matter? Mainly bc Ena is the Aeon of Order but what exactly does that concept mean? Order can be defined in a few different ways depending on context but in this case, Ena’s concept is related to the idea that things are arranged or done in a particular way, method, sequence, etc. of which we see an example in the dev log as explained by Herta

She states that she doesn’t like Ena’s personality as a “control freak” but rather their concept or at least how the universe followed the Order

In the case of planets & civilizations, under the Order they would first prosper for a time before coming to an end; this would be the cycle that was followed consistently as it is natural for civilizations to rise and fall

Going back to the abstract shapes, I want to bring up the Rule of Three, which applies to many situations but the general rule involves three things that make something effective, satisfying, ideal, etc. As we saw, the icon had three circles & three pointed ends but they were arranged specifically to make the whole symbol not very chaotic, thus it can be satisfying to look at

Interestingly we see 3 being involved in their faction, the Beyond the Sky Choir: the dev log which mentioned a “three-dimensional framework” & the curio called the Triangular Drum-roll Device

HooH the Equilibrium has a face w/ a body consisting mostly of geometric shapes, giving them a sort of blocky appearance; their body swirls & twists in a round circle which converges towards the center where we see two orbs(?) that are blue & orange while their two hands are clasped together in the center

When we look at their overall design, we can tell that they exhibit some form of balance; their name is exactly symmetrical since it can be split into Ho & oH; when it comes to their physical design, they have what we could consider, for simplicity’s sake, both “positive” & “negative”

Let’s pretend that positive is represented by the white tiles & negative is represented by black tiles, you can reverse the situation & it’ll still apply: the positive & negative tiles balance each other bc there is enough of both positive & negative that they would cancel each other out, creating a sense of balance

The symbol of HooH is well represented by a balance scale, often used for measuring & comparing the weights of objects to see if one is lighter, heavier, or equal in weight to another

Equilibrium as a concept refers to the idea that two opposing things cancel/balance each other out, creating something called “sum zero”; the implication of equilibrium is that things in life are divided by two as opposed to any other number

Herta talks about HooH in a dev log regarding how long they’ve been around compared to other aeons while also pointing out how they focus on duality

Now we have Xipe the Harmony who has a human-like body w/ 3 faces on a single head, long hair, purple skin, a dress that encompasses space, a ring of rainbow colors behind their head, and puzzle pieces floating around their form

Their symbol is quite abstract when we look at it as a whole

It is similar to Ena’s symbol where we had those abstract shapes in the background which came out to be 3 circles & 3 sharp points; here is a similar situation where the shapes are repeated 3 times in a circular fashion (it reminds me of the mitsudomoe, it’s the symbol that has 3 tomoe going around the central point of focus)

As of this point I’m not sure if the shapes themselves actually refer to/mean something specific to Xipe but I think something to point out is that the “commas” act differently based on whether they’re in the forefront or the background

The ones in the front don’t seem to interfere with any of the outer shapes on the same layer as them; however when we look at the background, the commas seem to cross into the other shapes next to them

Now what exactly is Harmony? The concept itself is when everything comes together in a single thing to create something unique or something that is typically good; for example we use harmony in music to refer to when notes or instruments are played together to create a coherent/cohesive song but we can also use harmony to refer to other things like life; in other words, harmony is a synonym for unity

Next we’re going to look at connections to each other & to the story; these 3 Aeons have varying degrees of involvement in the story as well as with each other; HooH seems to have very little connection to the other two so there isn’t rlly much I can say about them for the time being aside from their supposed involvement in the Swarm Disaster & the end of Tayzzyronth which we find in the simulated universe

However Ena & Xipe are much more connected both to each other & to the story when compared to HooH

Ena & Xipe are quite similar which makes sense considering that their concepts were fairly similar which ended up with the former getting absorbed (to clarify on their concepts, Order is the specific way to arrange or place things while Harmony focuses on fusing or combining things to bring about peace or good)

In terms of design, I would argue that they share similar color palettes, mainly cool colors (purple, blue) w/ a side of warmer colors on other features (Ena’s accessories & veil, Xipe’s halo)

Another similarity that I can see is their connection to music

Both Aeons received praise through songs through their respective factions, Beyond the Sky Choir & the Family; now that I think about it, perhaps the “commas” in Xipe’s symbol are actually supposed to be music notes in the world of HSR? I wouldn’t be surprised if they write music notes differently from what we would expect

Now in terms of their connections to the story I’ve heard theories of Ena being possibly connected to Gaiathra Triclops, the Mother Goddess that is mentioned in the most recent Trailblaze quest (****the next part about Gaiathra Triclops is mostly just me entertaining some ideas & pointing things out that I want to note, take w/ a grain of salt); I don’t think they are the same bc there are a few discrepancies that can be pointed out but maybe Gaiathra Triclops is an aspect of Ena that physically manifested

It is explained that Avgins do not follow the Aeon belief system but we also don’t know the exact origins of the Mother Goddess so what if she came from an Aeon? Aeons are the origin of concepts so it doesn’t seem far fetched to suggest that “minor”/sub-gods(?) could possibly come from them

We know that even if an Aeon dies, sometimes they leave behind remnants of themselves that still exist in the current time (e.g. Tayzzyronth & Swarm Disaster) so I don’t think it’s impossible for a similar situation here

We hear that Gaiathra Triclops is depicted as a left palm w/ 3 eyes & Ena does have 3 eyes in total if we count the one in the background; interestingly she is described specifically to be often depicted as a LEFT palm so are there any other manifestations of Ena possibly depicted as a right palm or just another body part in general?

Speaking of eyes, many have pointed out that the eye in the background has a striking resemblance to Aventurine’s eyes

The irises & pupils don’t look the exact same but it feels more of a design choice bc Aventurine’s eye shapes help to establish a sense of mystery/suspicion when it comes to his character; other than that the purple/neon pink outer ring & inner blue ring do match

If the Mother Goddess inherited the same eye from Ena, it could possibly explain how the Aventurine got the same eye despite Ena having been gone before the Sigonian incidents; I know the timeline of events are a bit cloudy so it’s not all clear but it just seems way more than a coincidence to me that Aventurine has the same eye colors as the one that appears besides Ena but I’ll leave my musings there

Now Xipe is the one who has a much more prominent presence in Penacony’s story compared to the other two Aeons

Even before entering the world we are made aware of Xipe’s ties to Penacony & its history; Penacony used to be a desert planet that acted as a prison which was owned by the IPC; the IPC eventually lost control of it due to Nanook & the residents of Penacony became members of the Family under Xipe

In terms of the Trailblaze Mission itself, we never see Xipe in person but we do see two notable instances of (extensions of) Xipe’s powers in the story: first is when we enter the Dreamscape & Robin helps us get accustomed to the new environment through tuning; second time is when Sunday invokes their power on Aventurine during the interrogation

In both cases we get the rainbow aura reminiscent of Xipe’s halo around our screens, for the MC we seem to have less of a problem whereas Aventurine suffers the entire time he’s under the influence; this reminds me of our clockwork ability which is essentially direct emotional manipulation (Clockie is most definitely sus, no question about it)

To me this change in how the extensions of Xipe’s power can go from harmless to dangerous is representative of Penacony’s storyline; it looks like a normal peaceful resort at first glance but then we learn about the darker aspect of the Dreamscape aka the memes that have appeared & untold dangers

To end this off, I do want to reiterate how Ena, HooH, and Xipe are interesting representations of different aspects of balance if you could tell based off my title for this thread; my main reason why I bring this up is bc Nanook is presented or framed as the main antagonist of this game bc of their nature as the Aeon of Destruction and the intention/goal is to stop them supposedly…

Therefore I am curious of whether we will see Xipe, HooH, and just the other Aeons in general play a bigger role in this plot of somehow stopping Nanook or if they’ll leave them be bc that is simply their nature; they are all beings who follow their own concepts & ideals so they do what they feel is right based off of their own values

If we are to consider what is balance in this universe, destruction would be the opposite of preservation which is represented by Qlipoth but we also can consider Yaoshi to be their opposite since they help grow life wherever they go

We also were somewhat expecting the Annihilation Gang to make an appearance during the story but we learned that they disbanded after Ifrit was killed by Acheron; does this mean that we won’t really see them again? We also know that Nanook doesn’t really like how the Annihilation Gang operates bc they see their sadistic desire to destroy as “impure” so it seems almost like we’re left hanging when it comes to them

I know that we are still in the Penacony arc so this might not be addressed at the moment but I’m still interested in seeing how the overall plot involving Nanook will play out 👀

[mllemaenad]

Do you have any takes on the NCR? I'm relatively new to Fallout, but most of what I know about it is either from the tv show or from your Fallout 4 posting from a few years back, neither of which gives me much of a look at what the NCR was like when it was still around and not blown up. And you generally have good takes on video game factions.

Oh – thank you! I don't know if I'll be able to maintain that reputation, but we'll see. :)

I also don't know what you've started playing or intend to play, so I'll try to keep my spoilers at least a little vague so I don't spoil anything particularly cool for you.

My feelings about the NCR are complicated. You see, they look a lot like us. To be more specific, they look a lot like 20th century Americans. I'm not American and the 20th century was a while ago now – but there's still a lot that's familiar and comfortable. Like watching an older film: some of the slang is a bit weird, and the phones are wrong, but you could have a sensible conversation with these people, you know?

Because of the whole "alternate history" thing, the pre-war world can feel a bit distant. I think the TV series contains the longest stint we've ever had there, although I guess that depends a bit on how long a person takes to slog through Operation Anchorage. You mostly pick up bits of history from old holotapes and terminals. The stories are interesting: sometimes funny and sometimes tragic. But they are very much from another world. A world with a much stronger commitment to poodle skirts and Bing Crosby than we have.

But the NCR? If you play all the games, you live through their rise and fall. I have walked my clueless Vault Dweller into the tiny village of Shady Sands, and been very pleased to find some people who don't want to kill me. I've played the tourist in Fallout 2, walking through the actual modern capital city of the New California Republic – a standout area in a game largely full of shanty towns (there's Vault City but ... Vault City is not a fun place).

And there's genuinely a lot here to celebrate. They are the survivors of a Vault-Tec experiment specifically designed to test how a lot of diverse and contentious groups could live together. I'm not saying there's no bigotry in the NCR, because there is, but it's not built into their ideology the way it is in some other factions. There's a Super Mutant serving among the NCR Rangers in Fallout 2, and a ghoul town was among the republic's founding members. They explicitly state that they welcome mutant immigrants.

They're coaxing agriculture back into the wasteland even in the original Fallout, and they later expand into industry. They've got trade and education (there's apparently a university in the LA Boneyard, a thing I am sad that we never got to see), and they've outlawed slavery. In a lot of ways the rise of the NCR is a testament to human resilience in the face of incredible adversity.

But. Of course there's a but.

They are trying to rebuild on old world principles. There is a reason they look a lot like 20th century Americans. And they have not solved old world problems. As early as Fallout 2 there's evidence of the use of really dodgy expansionist tactics, and by New Vegas you're holding your breath as you watch them. Their army is simultaneously uncomfortably large and stretched too thin. Their economy is in trouble, and too much wealth is concentrating in too few hands. And they're pushy in a way you'd really prefer a democracy not to be. They have innocent blood on their hands.

They remain the good karma choice compared to Caesar's Legion, sure, but "crucifixion, rampant misogyny and mass slavery" are really low hurdles to get over. Their choices are ... troubling.

So there's a lot to critique, too, but in a way that mostly makes me sad. It makes you ask – is this inevitable? Is every society destined to deteriorate like this? Fallout's core thesis is "war never changes", so I think to some extent the answer is yes. At least – there's no perfect system or hopeful beginning that guarantees things won't go wrong. You have to watch all the time, or you end up back at the mushroom cloud.

If I have a critique of the TV series as it stands, it's that the destruction of the NCR by Vault-Tec in a fit of pique is an excellent way to mourn the good in the NCR (the sight of a hole where Shady Sands used to be hurts, just as worrying about the fate of characters I loved who lived in NCR territory hurts), but it does little to explore the problems of a democracy setting itself up as a newborn empire.

With that said, I expect that criticism is unfair as the series had a lot of legwork to do, explaining the world to any newcomers and ... I mean, there's a time and a place for delving into 23rd century politics and that probably isn't it.

I expect that they'll deal with this more in later seasons, particularly as we are headed toward New Vegas, heart of the "guys, are we sure this is a good idea?" NCR question.

[peachykoii]

I just got an idea for a Dislyte Event. Also, this is super long winded so bare with me, lol

We’ve gotten crumbs about Anti-Esper sentiments growing throughout Grandis and I think that it would absolutely be amazing and build up so much lore (and allow other established characters to be in events) if they begin to delve into that.

Say, if there was an event set in Woodsville or Geran (two places that have been demolished by the Miracles but also places that we haven’t learned very much about with the exception of Woodsville because of Sienna’s event) where anti-Esper organizations have planted their roots. There, they convert orphans, disgruntled citizens, and the weak and the scared to their cause. We could follow Hailey’s Ex friend, Sasha, and learn why she joined the efforts. Their beliefs are self-explanatory, but their mission is to strengthen the unity and will of regular people to fight back against the Miramon because, to them, Espers simply can’t be trusted. They believe they can find ways to fight back against the Miracles without the help of Espers.

And then, we learn that the leader of the anti-Esper organization is Dong Mei.

Dong Mei as in the researcher side character from Embla’s event (whom Embla had attacked and kicked off her spiral into Ymir’s bloodthirsty vessel).

Honestly, I think the set up could be perfect.

Dong Mei experienced the terror that stemmed from surviving Embla — the very first Esper ever in existence, your friend, and a “superhero” turning on you. And then, while she was still grappling with that harrowing experience that has changed her life, all of a sudden, she also had to survive another huge betrayal with the Burning of the Union (and having all their research demolished, stolen, and/or wiped by the Shadow Decree). After that, I can absolutely see how she could swear off all help to or from Espers and go her own way. Still, having worked for the Esper Union in their early days of secret research at the Sunrise Isles and being one of the few regular humans to have been inside a Miracle at the time, she could gradually gain credibility and authority with like-minded people. Even better, since she exstensively studied Espers and Miramon, now she has the upper hand on learning how to protect herself from them.

Over time, through the help of people from different factions, classes, and walks of life, she was able to amass a following that quietly but quickly spread to Miracle-stricken areas like Hazlitt, Geran, Woodsville, places in the Raine Tundra negatively affected by the Starlight Miracle, etc. Together, the group uses their collective strength and knowledge to create anti-Esper weaponry in secrecy. Stoked the flames of self-agency for humans and created a tightly woven “human-hood” sworn to help those in need from the Miracles and all Espers alike, good or bad. The event would cover her rise to notoriety in spite of all the bigger and major Esper players in the world. Maybe it could even shine more light on the “Esper Agreement” and if her group potentially influenced that coming to play (it was briefly mentioned in Toland’s bio).

And if we want a good plot twist…

Then Dong Mei could become an Esper.

The experience of accepting that her agency and self-worth aren’t dependent on Espers nor dependent on the things that happen/ed in her life (growing past Embla), but of her own volition and her strong spirit to work for it turns her into the very thing she despises.

And I want her to learn to live with that.

I want to see her struggle to rediscover her place in this huge organization that she’s created. I want to see how things change now that she’s in their shoes and everyone is looking at her differently. Maybe she tries to change their mind or maybe she exiles herself. I want it to be messy and difficult. I want her to become of an anti-hero. She doesn’t necessarily say, “Fuck the humans too,” if anyone, like Sasha, turns on her, but she decides once and for all that she’ll be the one to decide her interests, goals, and future. She still deeply cares about humanity and their suffering regardless of how her organization feels about her, so I’d like to think that she’ll do whatever it takes to find a way to save the humans without compromising her core beliefs, even if that means hurting humans, at times having to use her new powers, or anyone else’s.

Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

[intrepid-fictioneer-7]

"Historical Civilization Cohabitation", for lack of a better term, has always been an obsession of mine.

I don't mean fantasies where the cultures and realms are inspired by historical ones, like in Warhammer Fantasy. I mean a story where a strange (frequently artificial or supernatural) event forces different "great"™ civilizations that rarely or never interacted, as they were separated by great distances or stretches of time, to be stuck together in a new environment where they are neighbors, and the clashes that ensue.

An example of this is For Honor. After a Cataclysm in the 10th-11th centuries that drastically altered the planet's geography and destroyed countless civilizations, three nations consisting of knights, Vikings, and samurai arrived at a new land and compete for its resources by warring against each other, up until what would be present-day for us. It explicitly takes place on our Earth after a point-of-divergence, so these are actual European knights, Norse raiders, and Japanese samurai (who came west after Japan sunk). Although For Honor, being a live-service multiplayer game, has somewhat of an inconsistent lore subject to retcons that is more beholden to what will be interesting for the game than what makes sense. For example, it went from somewhat grounded to magic being real now. Other factions from historical culture have since arrived in the setting, some of which make some sense (a group from ancient China, Scottish highlanders, Arabian warriors, Aztec jaguar warriors who sailed east, Asian pirates similar to wokou and with firearms, etc.) and others that are just straight up impossible (apparently, both the Roman Empire and Ancient Egypt were still alive before the Cataclysm hit them). Another example of Historical Civilization Cohabitation is Horizon in the Middle of Nowhere, whose map I posted months ago. The gist is that a science fantasy posthuman civilization (basically elves, dragons, magic, etc. but with added scifi nonsense) recreates world history like a giant historical reenactment experiment, hoping that by retracing their steps they rediscover space/dimensional flight and return to the heavens/space (it is deliberately unclear if actual outer space or actual heaven is meant) they fell down from. They are stuck on the Japanese islands to do it, as the Earth had become mostly uninhabitable at this point, so the archipelago is treated like the "world" in miniature. It's a gonzo series, though it has a lot of, um, sus element in both the plot and the worldbuilding.

The tabletop role-playing game Banestorm is somewhat close to what I mean, but a bit of a different example. It's a setting in which Christians and Muslims from around the First Crusade were transported to a fantasy planet by a botched spell, and now in what would be our modern-day, humans are the dominant species over native elves, dwarves, and orcs as well as fellow transposed races such as hobbits and goblins, and many of these species have converted to either Christianity and Islam. It's really peculiar, but the civilizations there are mostly the medieval Christian and Islamic worlds. There is a land of pagan tribes and a realm created by transported Asian populations, but the pagan savage land is boring and nonsensical, while the Asian realm (named "Sahud") is has aged so poorly it's embarrassing.

But my fascination with this trope started with an old book from my childhood:

For some reason, world history has actually operated in successive cycles, with the same civilizations rising and falling again, in the same process, from the dinosaurs to mankind nuking itself while fighting its robots. While this was happening, the continents continued to drift until they rejoined once again into a super-continent, the Atoll of Zoombira. And the third time history repeated, the civilization found themselves next to each other.

It was not high literature, if you couldn't tell by the title and the goofy map. And not just that, but revisiting it showed really amateurish writing, especially compared to other YA books at the time.

But the setting, of multiple civilizations on a new Pangea separated by walls to stop a literal world war, always stayed stuck in my mind like mold, because of the basic concept but also because of the numerous things it didn't do. The original series never explain why history repeated 3 times, leave much of the history of the nations of Zoombira (just the worse names) blank save for specific plot relevant thing, nevermind the state of the place before they raised their walls. You would think this cyclic history would be something important or a cycle to break or something when it always ends with human extinction. And there is also a fair number of "great"™ civilizations present, but not others for some reason: why no ancient China? Persia? Arabs? Mongols? Incas? Sub-Saharan Africa? North America? And the mechanics of "Jurassium" are outright bizarre, like who built the walls keeping the dinosaurs in and why haven't some of the species spread across the continents instead? Jurassium also has cavemen cohabiting with dinosaurs, and the idea of Paleolithic or Neolithic humans living among dinosaurs is not explored at all. There is the "modern" world in the "contrée oubliée (forgotten country)" that is basically post-apocalyptic and radioactive, which raises even further questions like why didn't they curbstomp the others, why is it still radiated if it's a new cycle (did they nuke themselves again?), and where are the robots who war start the whole end of the world.

All this wasted potential has severely rotten my brain and hasn't left me, making me desire to see more of the same or similar concepts elsewhere as seen in the examples I mention above.

And Historical Civilization Cohabitation, while a cool concept to me, is rarely executed the way I would personally want it to.

[linuxgamenews]

Discover the Thrilling World of Within the Cosmos

Within the Cosmos single-player first person sci-fi RPG game has hope for Linux with Windows PC. All credit goes to the creative genius of Debdev, the developer behind it all. Due to make its way onto Steam next month. Get ready to dive into the sci-fi world of Within the Cosmos, a new single-player first-person RPG from indie developer Debdev, due to launch on October 4th, 2024. Imagine waking up in a distant star system, only to find humanity on the brink of collapse, battling not just each other but also a rising threat from androids. It's a game packed with choices that truly matter, set in a universe that's as rich in detail as it is in danger.

Regarding Linux support, it's definitely something I'm interested in adding. However, it will be something I'll have to look into after the initial release.

Here's what Debdev shared in their email: Within the Cosmos is being developed using Unreal Engine 4. So there's hope for a native Linux build down the road. It sounds like this might depend on how well the game sells. This could also mean a native Linux version for the Steam Deck, though Proton support is another possibility. I’m holding out for the release — I'm really intrigued to see how it turns out.

Within the Cosmos - Gameplay Trailer

In the year 2278, Earth is a mess, and you’re one of the lucky (or maybe unlucky) 500 members of the United Earth Space Agency (UESA) sent to the far-off Adallio star system. While being in cryo-sleep for generations, you wake up to find things are far from peaceful. Humanity’s survivors have split into factions, each with its own ideas on how to survive and thrive. Oh, and there’s also a deadly android menace that's threatening to wipe out the remaining civilization. As you navigate this divided Within the Cosmos world, the choices you make will shape the future of humanity. Will you bring people together or drive them further apart? Can you uncover the truth about the android threat, or will you fall victim to it?

Here’s what you can look forward to:

Create Your Character: Fully customize your character’s look, skills, and background. You’re not just playing a character in Within the Cosmos — you’re playing your character.

Skill System: There are 11 different skills you can level up, from hacking to intimidation, allowing for all kinds of playstyles. Whether you want to talk your way out of trouble or hack your way in, the choice is yours.

Hacking: Speaking of hacking, it’s not just a gimmick. Use your skills to manipulate the environment, gather important intel, and turn the odds in your favor.

Neural Interface Mods (NIMs): These mods give you special abilities like Cloak and Time Dilation. While adding another layer of strategy to both combat and exploration.

Factions: Get involved with different factions, each with its own goals and beliefs. Will you ally with them, betray them, or take them out entirely? Your actions will have real outocmes.

Exploration: The Adallio star system is yours to explore, with hand-crafted planets and settings full of secrets, missions, and unique challenges.

Meaningful Choices: Every choice counts in Within the Cosmos</em. From dialogue to how you approach your missions, your decisions will shape the game’s ending.

Weapon Customization: Tailor your arsenal to suit your style. Whether you like to go in guns blazing or prefer a more tactical approach, you can upgrade and personalize your weapons to do the job.

A Labor of Love

Within the Cosmos has been a long time coming. Debdev, the creator, has spent nearly a decade bringing this game to life. Inspired by the moral dilemmas in Star Trek and the deep gameplay of Deus Ex and Fallout. Debdev set out to create a sci-fi RPG where every choice matters. Despite financial hurdles, the passion for this project has never wavered. So now it’s finally ready to share with the world. If you’re into sci-fi adventures where your decisions really make a difference, keep an eye out for Within the Cosmos on Steam. There is still hope for native Linux support as well as Proton, with Windows PC.

[dua-yinepu]

I had a dream a while ago I'd like to share.

I was in a global conflict, I can't begin to describe who was involved or why everything was happening, but for some reason I was part of a group trying to detonate a nuclear bomb, with the controller being deep in an enemy base. Snuck my way in, alarms went off around the time i found the control hub, and I launched that nuke. Perhaps there were more, but I remember getting out of the building, there was fighting between factions going on, and this seemed to be the only way to end it. It's not my personal beliefs to use nuclear weapons, but that's what dream me did. I remember trying to find a place to go or hide, I'm not really sure, because there was a bright flash as a nuke detonated in the distance. I watched the mushroom cloud rise high above the horizon as the blast pushed the winds outward. I remember taking a photo of it on film, before the dust consumed us.

Everything went black.

I wake up confused about what had happened, and look around the room to see other people waking up as well. Some of us had recognized one another, others not. We were in quite a large room together, all wearing the same clothes, something like single color shirts and white pants. Plain white beds lined the wall, one for each of us. Despite the fact that most people were fighting or dying around the time the bomb hit, no one was injured. In fact, we all were in perfect health. On one side of the room, there was this machine with a button and after walking up to it and inspecting it, I pressed it out of curiosity. A few metal tubes flew out across the room and landed in a basket, which I imagine was placed there for a reason. I walked over to them, picked one up, and opened it. The best way I can describe it was a spring shaped roll of bubble wrap that came out. I got curious and popped the first of the chain, and a word came out, audibly. Everyone watched in silence. I don't remember the message in detail but it was about someone apologizing, and a goodbye. It seems there was a message for everyone in the room, from loved ones. In their newfound comfort, some were already trying to play games with others. The war was technically over, as was society, and they seemed healthy. There wasn't much else to do but relax and play. Others were more serious, trying to figure shit out, others didn't trust what was going on and wanted answers. Maybe there was someone or something more in control, in charge, but we didn't know about it.

At some point, we noticed our pelvises were oddly glowing. The entire pelvic region was transparent like glass but was full of bright luminescent color, and something somewhat butterfly shaped thing at the center, like where a womb would be, in everyone. The surface still felt like skin, but no organ, bone, or muscle occupied that space. It didn't hinder our movement in the slightest.

After the first person noticed, everyone freaked out, panic had spread throughout the room. Everyone had different pelvic color combinations, some repeating, others unique. Also I think this was another dream where I think I was in a woman's body, which is always nice when you're transfemme.

The best my head can come up with is that after ending humanity, some last few survivors (or maybe they're technically dead, or reborn, given their scenario) were in a sense promoted to gods. Like some sort of back up to jump start humanity once again. They still had their flaws and their opinions, they still fought and argued, but I suppose they needed to put aside their differences before getting anything done..

Sadly that's where the dream ends and I'll forever be left wondering what the hell was happening.

Now, I'm no writer... but hell I'd love to use this as a prompt..

[evilprince-puppet-translation]

Home Voice Lines (Belladonna)

Translation of Belladonna characters' home voice line.

Note:

It is not listed per their relationship level

The voice lines for their interaction with other factions will be on another post since this will be mainly focused on the members within the faction itself

I'll update the list when they add more seasonal voice lines

Adder:

Voice Line 1: It looks like you want to know about those who make an enemy of the Belladonna House?

Voice Line 2: Devils are scary, you say? Heh, you still don't know what's truly scary, do you?

Morning Voice Line: Hey, wake up. Don't lose your focus just because it's morning.

Afternoon Voice Line: A break? I don't have time for that, first of all I don't need a break. If you want to have one, do as you like.

Night Voice Line: Night is the busiest time. Since it's the time when the masses start making a racket. The incompetent ones get carried away the most...

Seasonal Voice Line (Monsoon): Don't feel like doing anything because it keeps raining? Someone said the same thing before. Don't act like a kid, move it.

Seasonal Voice Line (Summer): It's lively once the humans start to be outgoing. I should stock up a large amount of Mana for the servants by now.

Seasonal Voice Line (Summer 2): Don't let the sunlight get the better of you. You'd waste your precious Mana.

Halloween: It's so noisy— foolish humans making a big fuss outside with Devils trying to hunt them. But I'll let it slide if it brings more souls.

Seasonal Voice Line (Summer 3): It's getting cooler by midnight. Convenient for me since it's easier to move.

Seasonal Voice Line (Fall): The longer the nights, the better. Sometimes you need to have time to read a book with a glass of wine in your other hand.

Rosé:

Voice Line 1: Come on, cry a better sound ♪ Is there anyone who can satisfy this Lord Rosé~?

Voice Line 2: From now on, it's today's exciting dissection time ♡ No~w, I wonder how's the inside~♪

Morning Voice Line: Whaaat~ It's already morning? I've been playing all night long so yours truly has only start his sleep now.

Afternoon Voice Line: It's time to rise~... Are you interested in yours truly's morning routine? It's noon already though.

Night Voice Line: It is now the prime time of yours truly~ ♪ Gonna have tons of fun today ♡

Seasonal Voice Line (Monsoon): I don't hate the rain. Look, the splendidly graceful Devil* dripping with water, Lord Rosé. Fascinating, isn't it?

Seasonal Voice Line (Summer 1): Yours truly loves summer ♡ Now, let's play with those high-spirited humans right away~♪

Seasonal Voice Line (Summer 2): It's so hot~ Nope, it's impossible to go outside in this weather even for me. I'll hole inside the home for a bit~

Halloween: Trick or treats! Aw look at you trembling. What are you expecting from my trick?

Seasonal Voice Line (Summer 3): This is the peak season for harvesting good herbs. I can make all kinds of medicines~ Yay~ I'm SO looking forward to it~♪

Seasonal Voice Line (Fall): I get super excited around October to the end of the year~♪ Aren't there a lot of events coming up?

Vanis:

Voice Line 1: How does the Belladonna House feel like? It's pretty comfortable. If you like to, how about you join too?

Voice Line 2: I'm a fallen angel. Are you that interested in me? Fufu, what a bad child you are.

Morning Voice Line: Good morning. Have you been sleeping well? You should rest while you still can. Since we don't know what'll happen next.

Afternoon Voice Line: It's that time already. Actually taking a rest is my forte. How about it? Want to rest together with me?

Night Voice Line: What are you doing at this hour? It's our time from now on. I can't guarantee your safety.

Seasonal Voice Line (Monsoon): Don't you think rain is wonderful? Listening to the sounds of rainfall while engrossed in your hobby... What a luxurious time.

Seasonal Voice Line (Summer 1): You can feel the approaching summer now. I think I'll remodel my aquarium for a summer makeover slightly earlier.

Seasonal Voice Line (Summer 2): Humans are fragile after all. They easily wither in the heat of summer... Don't push yourself too hard. Got it?

Halloween: Trick or treats. Tonight the boundary between the human and Devil realm gets vague. Watch out for yourself, got it?

Seasonal Voice Line (Summer 3): It's colder during mornings and evenings now. It's a fitting season to stay up late.

Seasonal Voice Line (Fall): Not only humans, but Angels and Devils generally don't pay that much attention in October. It's easier for me to move around.

Adder + Rosé:

Voice Line 1:

Adder: Stop playing around and behave more as your part of the Belladonna Family. Don't make me state this multiple times.

Rosé: Please no~ Oh Big brother! This isn't playing, but an experiment. Get it?

Voice Line 2:

Adder: Hey, you... Wasting rare Mana as if it grows on tree. What are you planning to do with it?

Rosé: But they're absolutely essential for my experiments. Big brother, forgive me please ♡

Voice Line 3:

Adder: The nobles are coming here. Make sure to treat them with hospitality.

Rosé: Aha—! I see now. Leave it to me, big brother! I'll make them satisfied to death.

Adder + Vanis:

Voice Line 1:

Adder: You kneel down and tumble to our place. It's about time for you to find a way to be useful.

Vanis: Adder, it's not good to exaggerate things. We collaborate because we have benefits for each other, remember?

Voice Line 2:

Adder: Just thinking where you disappear to but it looks like you've done something worthless. Let me hear the results.

Vanis: Fufu, just what I'd expect from Adder. You just look through me, I think I can satisfy you this time.

Voice Line 3:

Vanis: Adder, actually right now... I'm really hungry. What should I do?

Adder: If what you want is Mana, say so after doing an appropriate job. If that's impossible, then you have to manage your own stomach.

Rosé + Vanis:

Voice Line 1:

Rosé: Oh, bo~ring~ Oh, right Vanis! Gimme some of your cute old lamb friends for me to pick on ♡

Vanis: You're still the same, Rosé. But I can't grant you that wish only, my bad.

Voice Line 2:

Rosé: Yours truly can't really grasp what you're thinking at all. Are you happy just being alive~?

Vanis: Is that so? If Rosé sees it like that, then it might be. Fufu, it's pretty fun.

Voice Line 3:

Vanis: Can you give me a minute? I'm thinking of something interesting. Want to do a strategy session?

Rosé: Fine with me! Yours truly is super fond of those. Of course, keep it hidden from Big brother right?

Group Voice Line:

Rosé: Vanis~ Come with yours truly for a bit. Let's have some fun with Lord Rosé here ♡

Vanis: Sure, Rosé. Where are we going tonight? Go easy on me.

Adder: Both the foolish brother and the freeloader sit there. That's some nerve you two have to ditch your work right in front of me.

*Rosé said 水も滴る (mizumoshitataru) in the original text. It literally means dripping with water, but it's also used as an expression to mean that someone (in this case, Rosé) looks splendidly good-looking. Which means that Rosé is just showing off how good he looks while dripping with rain

[gobs-o-cs]

Also, yes, I know it's been a hot minute since posting here (not that anyone really follows me)

But my creative surges (and there has been a pretty big surge lately) have been tied up in a lot of writing - New world-building and consolidating my previous world-building.

The thing is - I write a lot of stuff into character backstories and that becomes the basis for the lore, right?

There's been a few times that I've pulled lore together into reference documents, or written large lore sections that don't really directly affect individual characters enough to be express parts of their backstories. Or maybe it's a lot of footnotes in a backstory because it, again, doesn't actually affect the individual narratives that much.

Well, I realized it's probably time to do another pass at pulling details out and putting them into a big reference document, as well as reconciling things like certain major events in the history of the world and how they line up with individual characters' ages and whatnot - Stuff that's kind of important to make sure matches up - Warforged were all initially found in ancient ruins and reactivated, before new ones started being created some time later - Need to get those specific years pinned down in lore. Plus, the people doing all this work on Warforged were conquered and their city destroyed a certain number of years ago, so the production/reactivating of Warforged would have (mostly?) stopped that long ago. [Also, establishing things like, the two different groups of Warforged essentially are different subraces lore-wise, not-so-much mechanically, but their personalities are very different]

Speaking of ruins - The Aasimar in my setting are nearly all beings preserved from the ancient times and only recently started emerging from their, for lack of a better word, time capsules. When specifically did this start, is there a distinct order to it, etc.

Then there's stuff like, established dynasties and plagues, and rise and fall of empires/factions to try to have at least a sense of relative timeframes for.

*****

Anyway, yes, lots of lore there.

More specifically, though - The most recent character I actually posted - Silas - The arc I'd always imagined for him was, basically two big aspects:

First, as a charlatan, he does fake exorcisms, but accidentally replicates a binding ritual that essentially makes a Warlock Pact with something. That part's done in the stuff I've already posted about him, and I have a more story-story written, but I don't post that stuff yet, because while I'm doing this initial revisiting of my old characters, I want to make sure things are all matched up and such.

The second part of his story is: The Charlatan comes up against an actual cult and has to step up to save people, because he's a mostly-decent guy/at least not cool with whatever the cult's getting up to.

So, while stuff relating to him and this conflict were fresh in my mind, I figured I should focus on the characters involved and get them done.

While I had the ideas floating around for 2 of cult's leadership group - The Human Cleric that actually leads them, and his right-hand/bodyguard White Dragonborn Paladin (her concept pre-dates me knowing of BG3's Dark Urge, not that it really matters because, y'know you can just make White Dragonborn characters). But I knew that I wanted a 3 member of the leadership group (Maybe a little petty of me, but all three correspond to the three sets I have that are identifiably from a certain squid-themed dice company whose profoundly shitty actions I only found out about sometime after dealing with them - So I wanted them all to be from the same group and having them be "villainous" was a bonus.

Anyway, given all the politics/world-building stuff I'd been working on, I had some ideas about what kind of character I should lean towards - And because I was making the character concept for her, I just dove right in and mostly have made her - The minis are all ready to go. I just haven't written the backstory for her yet, because I wanted to make sure I had all the details pulled together from the other cultists' backstories, and she's not the foundational one, there, y'know?

So, I'll give her a proper introduction post in due time, but for now, here's Fia Wilbur, Were-Boar-ancestor Shifter Bard (College of Spirits):

Prior to joining the cult, she was a humble fisher-woman. As a Shifter, her "monstrous" heritage leads to a lot of discrimination in the very Human-centric Empire that expanded out and claimed authority over her small town in the past [time frame, but, like, at most, not quite a century ago].

I also went with the fisher background because I was playing around with the idea of "Race does a job that they're not stereo-typically associated with." Centaur was very high in the running, if I'm being honest, but in the end Shifter of a species that's not like, notably sea-faring or inclined towards fishing/seafood felt right.

Anyway, once charmed into the cult, there wasn't any need to worry about making herself a visible target for hate, and she let her hair down, so-to-speak.

And is now a Bard - College of Spirits given the cult's veneration of ancient artifacts, history, and long (questionably?)-dead beings made a lot of sense, and it was a subclass I hadn't built a character of yet.

And while she doesn't fully become a were-boar, the "Shifter" heritage does allow her to shift into a more-bestial form.

So, cool, I have Fia basically figured out. She's now kind of the equivalent of a Christian Rocker drawing crowds into the megachurch, to try to make a comparison as to her role.

And while I was just about to start work on the other two members of the Cult's leadership group, I had a burst of insight into the actual nature of what their cult is and who the false gods they're worshiping are - And that led to a burst of insight into the nature of religion and belief in the world I'm building, in-general.

And then, once I got that bit sorted out - I realized, I'd like to have this conflict be bigger than 3 cultists versus Silas, his patron, and the Aasimar he finds awakening near the vault that was imprisoning the false gods.

*****

So, that led to the creation of more cultists and more opponents - The bulk of the named/to-be-named cultists that I started writing were now going to have been recruited from an imperial research expedition and the prisoners they'd brought along for manual labour, and the guards that were escorting/controlling that group. I should probably throw in at least one notable local villager that converted too or something.

So, of those new cultists, it's: the former lead-archaeologist, the former religious officer/overseer (~roughly equivalent to say, a commissar in the soviet military, but for the religious/ideological equivalent of this setting); the world-weary practical Dwarf captain that was stuck leading the prisoner details, and one of the most prominent prisoners from the group - The captured leader of a guerilla cell - A Tiefling from the city-state that was conquered and wiped out ~20 years ago.

And the new people on team not-cult were: The Half-Elf lieutenant of the guard unit; the junior researcher who was doing all the actual work and actually cared about the truth instead of just what the Empire wanted to hear; and a prisoner former compatriot of the "Firebrand" prisoner - A Warforged former manual-labourer.

Okay, so then what should I make this character? - Because this isn't just a written work - My whole shtick is making these D&D characters, after all.

I looked at the list of classes I hadn't used for Warforged yet, and Paladin's on there - Great! Need someone tankier since my "not-cult" party right now is two Wizards and a Warlock, with a damage-focused Paladin. I get an idea for a Redeemer Paladin - Emphasized non-lethal methods because she's a tax collector and it's harder to get back taxes from dead people. I love this concept and will use her somewhere later, but I wanted a non-military/enforcement background for this prisoner character.

I was going to disregard Bard entirely - Even though you could probably build a reasonably tanky Warforged Valor Bard. But then an idea jumped into my head - Again, not who I wanted this prisoner to be, but one I wanted to follow-up on: A Skill-Monkey Lore Bard - Essentially a walking encyclopedia/multi-tool built by the ancient Precursor people to help with all kinds of menial tasks in a library.

And honestly, given the nature of the whole "cult that uncovered something that the ancient empire sealed away"-thing, I realized this character has a lot of potential use here - So they were added to the the not-cult group too, as another former prisoner on labour detail, because the current empire doesn't really care to look to their prisoners for skills or knowledge - But our hero group absolutely can.

Okay, so circling back to the first Warforged Prisoner - Ranger offers some intriguing options.

Swarmkeeper sounds fun, but I'm not sure what angle to take for a manual labourer - Beekeeper is obvious, but I want to make a Dwarven Beekeeper Swarmkeeper that gets the honey for a meadery. And while I could double-up character backgrounds, I'd prefer not to if I don't have to.

I eventually hit on the idea of a guano collector/miner (A perfect unpleasant sort of job you'd put a mechanical underclass/slave to work in) who got sealed in a cave with bats and because [magic], their spirits bonded to the Warforged. Again, love this character concept - But not really the sort of role I'm looking for in this Prisoner-character - This one goes to the pile for later.

Finally, the obvious hits me - A Beastmaster Ranger who was a shepherd. They're not one who favours combat, but the urge to protect is strong.

There we go! Got it!

Time to start actually building and writing these characters and story!

*****

And then, out of nowhere, a wild totally-unrelated character idea hits!

Blood Hunters should work with guns/firearms, right?

Ooh! Blood Hunter Cowboy, like Quincey Morris from Dracula. That could be fun.

And hey, since we're using guns, why not a Giff?

So, yes, Monster-Hunting Cowboy Hippo-Man from space!

So, yes, I was possessed by the urge to make Mr. Mauricio "Moe" Quinto

The problem, in addition to pivoting to a new story, came with trying to build his mini in Hero Forge.

There's no Giff/Hippo heads in Hero Forge.

That required some work on my part - Starting from the Bovine/Minotaur head, I've managed to get him looking pretty decent as far as hippo-heads can be made, I think.

So, yes, this has taken some time.

And then, in writing his backstory an opportunity arose for another character hook, perfect for an Aberrant Mind Sorcerer

And hey, since we're doing a Spelljammer-flavoured character and backstory, why not make our new Sorcerer a Hadozee?

Guess what sort of characters Hero Forge is also not remotely set up to make?

But I try nevertheless - She's still a work in progress and there's definitely gonna need to be a lot of posing tricks for whatever angle I take images of her from when I get to that point but:

So, yeah, she's coming along anyway. I think the face has definitely turned out pretty good, all things considered.

*****

So, yeah, that's where my ADHD-ass has been with regards to writing/creating.

Once I finish up with these two, I think I can get back to the cult plot and get those characters done.

*****

Or not quite! Almost forgot about the quick pass on previous minis that I want to do to update their hands!

Someday, I'll move the list forward again

[bluesunsdusk]

A small chuckle escaped Najma.

"Hard-working? You would be the first here to say so. Being built to work makes people less inclined to allow one to do anything else." Even while saying this, their tone remained light and kind, almost as though they didn't even register how serious it could sound. A break simply wasn't something a 24/7 care unit could be afforded. They'd tried when their growing sapience became noticeable enough, but they were still always available. That was something that hadn't changed, it just looked different this time around.

Still, they appreciated the sentiment.

"Thank you, habibi," they said with a small bow of the head.

"Now before you actually die waiting for an explanation... The Shambali are a religious sect of Omnics living within the Himalayans. They believe in something called the Iris and that our sapience derived from an omnic called Aurora. They believe omnics have souls and preach unity among all people in earth."

Taking a step back, Najma let some of the plating on their chest shift to reveal something akin to a holographic projector. The semi-transparent image of a building popped up in the air.

"They live together in a monastery, largely isolated. Although, they do reach out to mend relations between humans and omnics. Their former leader, Mondatta, was very beloved until he was assassinated."

The image they projected switches to an image of the statue built in honor of the omnic within King's Row.

"Not all omnics agree with their methods, deeming them too passive, giving rise to factions such as Null Sector. It is hard to know what the best route is for all to recover from the omnic crisis. Many omnics feel responsible, even if none of them had control over those events; They were mindless units controlled by a central program until a widespread change occurred within their processes."

The projection of Mondatta faded and Najma's chassis closed shut.

"I am used to working with scientists, not spiritualists. Everything scientists do has or seeks to achieve an explanation, even if they may not be rooted in sound logic at all times..." They folded their arms over their chest and looked at the ground. "Horizon's reasoning for their specific method of animal testing still eludes me. It seemed quite peculiar to combine a lunar colony with a mammal enhancement program before knowing what effect either separate from one another would have prior."

A small shrug followed that tiny bit of pondering. "I was merely a personal medical assistant unit, I wasn't supposed to know the how and why of anything. There was probably more to it that they never informed me nor my owner of. I might never-"

Najma's crest twitches and they lift their head back up.

"I am rambling..."

They stopped speaking after saying a soft, "Apologies." and turned their attention back to the diagnostics information that steadily popped up as a final result was being developed through different cycles of testing.

"Regarding your concerns... You are in your early sixties and are a human. No amount of augmentation will avoid the eventual effects of ageing forever."

Though, their own diagnostics became more essential the more they were made to exert themselves too.

Of course, by machine standards, they were also of a notably advanced age. They usually elected not to think about that too hard. The last thing they needed was to find out how an omnic in a midlife crisis acted. Were they even an omnic? They didn't come from an omnium. By literal definitions, they weren't an omnic at all, and yet they were always referred to as such. They weren't even susceptible to the same manipulations as their fellow units, as evidenced by their anomalous response in the crisis...

Najma quickly shook their head to break out of their line of thought.

"Have you perhaps, by your own estimation, overexerted your gravitic influence over time?" They asked. "The equipment Talon has utilized is quite...delicate in certain aspects. Any faults would steadily built up and cause increased frequency of errors."

                   Despite an apprehension around Omnics, SIGMA is outstandingly trusting in regards to Najma, both in part to their anti-inflammatory demeanor and otherwise pacifying presence; then again, without biological signals to interpret, there is rarely anything for SIGMA to mirror, between their speech and behavior– and while that did often lead to a unique form of discomfort, he finds that he does not need to detect anything to feel secure around them. Perhaps it was the way they speak to him; gently, always so gently– they rarely, if ever, express open disapproval for his antics, oftentimes going out of their way to cover for him when he risks getting himself into trouble with his superiors, such as when he’d opened one of the windows in the visitation area just for a chance to play with the snow in his first year within the organization. Therefore, it’s difficult not to enjoy Najma’s company. 

He only wished that he had more in common with them– sometimes he wonders if they only entertain him because they are expected to. 

                    “It feels as though they are becoming… more necessary than they used to be.” SIGMA murmurs, absentmindedly pulling a small length of one of the thick, hanging cables  across his lap so that he can fidget with it, winding it through his fingers and looping it around his hands idly as the capacitors connected to him begin to charge off of the gravitic and electromagnetic currents his ANOMALY are steadily channeled into it. His body feels heavy, once more weighed down by the Earth’s gravity as the effects of his ANOMALY are temporarily dispelled in their entirety while the diagnostic screen begins running measurements of the current magnitude. “... Difficult to say whether it is only getting stronger, or if this awful body is just becoming that much weaker…” Of course, the latter would seem more likely– if not for the fact that his body is twice as resilient as any other due to the near-perfect merging of his atoms with SIEBREN’S. “It truly is too bad that you are beyond my own fields of study! I would have greatly enjoyed making your diagnostics as simple and streamlined as you do for me!”

Initially, he anticipates the original question to go ignored or unnoticed– while it was very genuine, he’s well accustomed to being openly ignored and going unanswered. Therefore, the fact that Najma even humors the question whatsoever is… Sweet of them! He enjoys the sensation of having others respond. “... Oh! You– but more good than bad, right?” SIGMA chimes back just as sweetly, offering Najma an apologetic, hopeful smile. Maybe not, but he could hope. “You are so hardworking! If anyone deserves a break, it would be you!”

When Najma continues on, however, to mention the Shambali, his interest is once more piqued as he stares up at them with wide, curious eyes.  “-- Oh? You do not say! How curious! What– er, who--  are the Shambali? Tell me,  oh please tell me, dearest Najma! I am dying to know more! DYING!”

[taramikealson]

Just a sort of canon-ish Drabble that I got a little carried away with.

Set after the events in TVD excluding the “Hell” storyline in Season 8, the miracle babies, Caroline dating Alaric, Marcel taking the serum, and a few minor changes that are hopefully recognizable.

He could feel the irritation crawl along his skin like a serpent slithering itself up and around a tree. With the irritation, came anger.

Sometimes he enjoyed the challenge that came with others riffling with his plans. He has theories as to why he does but deep down he knows the true reason. His wolf. The thrill and excitement that came with the thought of the hunt. Predators such as wolves are born hunters who thrive on such games.

But, he is not only a wolf. No, he is a strategist- a remarkable one at that. There had been no plan, no despicable machination of his that hasn’t had a fail-safe.

Except for this one.

He had gotten himself into a situation where he finally became comfortable again after nearly ten centuries of running. And when he got comfortable, he began to lose his edge.

After successfully re-stabilizing the Quarter and allowing his brother to take a leading role in the peace treaty between the factions, New Orleans fell quiet. Of course, every so often there’d be a dispute between a couple of the factions that rose a concern within his elder brother, but that was always unavoidable. Werewolves, witches, and vampires alike have fought for centuries, that type of violence and warfare doesn’t automatically stop with a peace treaty. His brother may hope for that positive outcome but Klaus had always been a realist. And, unfortunately as he predicted, the peace was temporary.

“Niklaus, this is not a situation that we should ignore.” His brother’s voice sounded through the phone that he had pressed against his right ear.

No, this isn’t something we should ignore. He thinks, tentatively keeping his lips pressed together to keep himself from speaking of something that perhaps his brother shouldn’t know.

“Should Marcel make a regretful move, this treaty we’ve formed could very well be null and void.”

If Marcel were to make a move, it may start a gruesome war between the vampires and werewolves. If Klaus knew Marcel well enough, his former right-hand man is most likely planning something rather ill-conceived. He hasn’t theorized whether the harsh consequences will weigh the heaviest on either the vampires or werewolves, or even the whole Quarter all together. No matter what they may be, he’s most certain his brother won’t be quite pleased with what he has planned.

Although Klaus once held a tight hold over the vampires, it came to his attention that Marcel continued to be respected amongst both the day and nightwalker community. Thus, why in the time of tension, they clamber to him in search of a leader to choose the decisions that will benefit them. Which is why Klaus has chosen to keep the werewolves as an ally. The werewolves have proven to be loyal to Hayley and his daughter because they both are seen as part of the pack, which unnerves Klaus but gives him the relief that those wolves will protect his daughter. The connection that Hayley holds with those werewolves is bound to be manipulated, might as well be him to do so in a beneficial way. For both the stability of New Orleans and the safety of his daughter.

“Brother, do you understand me?”

His shoes crunch against the small layer of gravel underneath his feet.

“Yes.” Klaus tries his best to keep the irritation out of his voice but his answer still sounds short.

The hybrid immediately ends the call, noting that the conversion was to be continued in person. While pocketing his phone, he takes a few steps further along the rooftop and then steps up onto the ledge, giving him a grand view of the Quarter from a few buildings away.

A rough shuffle and a few voices could be heard from a little farther down the alley below him, but he didn’t much care about the happenings within the alley. From what he could hear, there were two men speaking in hushed tones, their heartbeats slower and more quiet indicating their undead nature. The fast and erratic heartbeat that was a few paces in front of them was a clear indication to Klaus of what the vampires below were planning to do.

His lips turned up slightly. He, himself, was feeling a bit peckish, perhaps he’ll grab a quick bite before he returns home to his disapproving older brother.

The vampires eventually closed the woman in, murmuring to her about where she was going and why she was out at such a time. He found it interesting that she stayed quiet. Ninety-nine percent of the time, the women would say something whether it be a plea to let them go or an angry curse.

Wanting to stay out of the house- more like away from his brother- for as long as he can, he turned his head to look down the alleyway. If this ends to be unentertaining, he’ll most likely grab a drink at Rousseau’s.

There, he could see both the vampires crowd into the blonde woman’s space. She has her back pushed up against the rough brick.

“I don’t think it’s very safe for a lady like yourself to be out here.” The vampire states before his eyes transform and fangs replace his blunt teeth. Usually, this is when the victims begin to scream or mutter that modern saying, oh my, God. But the woman doesn’t seem as scared as a normal human would be.

“You’re making a mistake.” She murmurs and Klaus’ eyes widen a hair, recognizing the voice. But before he can think of anything else, the woman is thrusting a wooden stake into the vampire’s stomach.

The vampire doubles over and the other vampire goes to attack the human but he’s no match for Klaus’ speed. Without a second thought, Klaus appears before the vampire, shoving him back before he could get to the woman. The other vampire has now pulled the stake from his torso and was looking to kill but Klaus turned toward him.

“Enough.”

The vampire pauses but scowls at him, a look of disgust and anger apparent in his eyes. His hand rises and points to the human. “She stabbed me! She’s a tourist! Tourists are fair game-,”

“And you would be in the right if it weren’t for her being under my protection.”

The vampire looks a little surprised at Klaus’ declaration and is about to protest once more but Klaus beats him to it.

“Now, I suggest you scamper off to Marcel before I’m tempted to rid you both of your hands.”

Both vampires share a glance and Klaus continues to stand his ground confidently. Eventually, the vampires figure out that it’s probably best for them to avoid any conflict with an Original, the Original Hybrid no less. Thus, they both give the human one last threatening look before flashing away into the night.

With the vampires disappearance, Klaus had began to turn around and quip something sarcastic but his whole expression changes when Caroline’s knees give out. His hands come out at vampiric speed as he catches her by her upper arms and kneels down as he slowly lowers with her.

It’s then that he sees her clearly. Her hair isn’t as perfect as she normally used to keep it, almost like she hasn’t had access to the proper equipment. Her clothes were a little wrinkled and two small dark red dots bled through her white shirt indicating that a bandaged wound was leaking. Concern now flooded through him as his eyes connected with her face. It was as beautiful as ever but there was a deep exhaustion and a line of stress etched into her forehead. Oh how his heart now aches. He thinks that he hasn’t felt as worried for someone as he is with Hope, but yet here he is, holding her just enough so she doesn’t slump over.

He now realizes that she hadn’t just lost most of her strength, but had been keeping herself from showing any weakness towards those vampires. If he wasn’t so concerned with her health, he’d be praising her for her stubborn strength.

“Caroline, look at me, love.” He aides her by tilting her head up gently by her chin. Her eyes are tired and look so vulnerable.

She looks as if she’s about to say something but Klaus shakes his head. “Conserve your strength. You’re alright, I’ve got you.” If those words were spoken to anyone else, they’d have a right mind to be worried but she seemed to feel relieved. He takes that as permission to pick her up, holding her from underneath her legs and shoulders.

His thoughts of what his brother will think of him are completely wiped away when he races to his home. It’s quiet but he knows his brother is lurking somewhere. He’s not quite concerned about Freya, Rebekah, and Hayley’s absences. Ever since the incident between the werewolves and vampires, Hayley has taken it upon herself to help with the remaining pack. Freya is most likely working on another miracle to save this city’s peace and it’s no surprise that Rebekah is with Marcel.

Klaus contemplates taking Caroline to a guest bedroom but the closest one to his is farther than he’d like so he figures that taking her to his bedroom won’t be the worst idea. At least he’d be able to keep a close eye on her for the time being.

He sets her down gently to the dark grey covers and takes a sharp turn into the bathroom. Klaus comes back out a few moments later with a wet washcloth and a couple different sizes of bandages. Caroline shifts a little and grazes her hand against the side of her torso where the wound was which seems to instantly sober her up. She lets out a small gasp and grimaces in pain. Her hand hovers over it as if it’d take the pain away. Klaus walks back over to her and sits on the edge of the bed, a few inches separating himself from her.

Extending his hand, his eyes travel up to her face seeking silently for any sign of rejection before pulling the edge of her shirt up to reveal a blood-soaked bandage. His hands slowly peel away the bandage and Klaus didn’t know what to expect but he hadn’t expect something quite as brutal as this. No, this was not a wound from an accident, this was intentional and by someone who was trying to harm Caroline. In fact, he was quite knowledgeable about this particular wound, or had been when he was human. By the sharp angles of the shape of the wound, he could tell it had been an arrow tip that pierced her skin. When he was human, Kol had been recklessly playing with his father’s bow and accidentally shot Finn in the shoulder. He had kept that arrow shaped scar for as long as he could remember. But just because Finn had survived, it only made Klaus more concerned.

By the tear of the wound, it seems to have been reopened due to stress. Although, he imagines that it’s good news that it’s not infected. Klaus is as gentle as he possibly can be when he pays the wet washcloth along her wound. She bites her lip hard and grasps his arm in a painful grip but he allows her to do so, hoping that if a fraction of his pain can dull hers, then so be it.

After a few moments, she slowly takes her hand away and he begins to clean around the wound.

“Klaus-,”

“Don’t.” He begins, “not now.”

His words come out a tad harsher than intended but she knows he’s just concerned and doesn’t know how to healthily deal with it like a normal human.

“I need you to listen just for once.”

“Caroline, let yourself rest before we speak of anything.”

She appreciated the notion that he valued her safety and well-being more than an explanation of why she showed up in his city as a human. But this couldn’t wait, for her safety and his own.

To truly get his attention, she places her hand on top of the one that was still cleaning the blood off her skin. It pauses its movements and he looks up to her.

“I- I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to use you for your contacts but I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” She hesitates to continue because after she asks, his involvement becomes concrete. Because she knows that he’ll help her. “I need a witch, someone powerful. Someone who can do a cloaking spell that can’t be broken by another witch.”

His face doesn’t express as much emotion as she thought it would but she doesn’t think that it’s a bad thing. He obviously seems to be contemplating something as his eyes bore into hers.

Setting aside the washcloth, he straightens out and takes a sleek black phone out of his jacket pocket. Without hesitation, he clicks a few times on the screen and places the phone against his ear.

“Freya, I need you at the Compound immediately.” With that, he puts his phone away and reaches for a bandage. Taking the plastic off, he softly places it over her wound, pressing along the outside, securing it to her skin without causing her pain.

His eyes refocus onto hers and she spots the anger that has now manifested within those blue orbs. “Who did this?” He asks and Caroline Knew she should have known better than to think the wound wouldn’t show any foul play.

“Silas.” Klaus’ lips part in confusion. For all he knows, Silas had been put in a safe and thrown down the quarry. God, things got complicated since he’d left. Much more complicated than she would have liked.

“For a while he pretended to be Stefan. We didn’t know because we thought he could only mess with a couple people’s perspectives but turns out he’s a doppelgänger.” She mentally cringes when remembering how Silas continuously terrorized her and her friends. She also remembers how Silas had made everyone think he was dead when Stefan killed him but had used it as an out to chalk up another plan that revolved solely around revenge. Against her.

Caroline begins to pull herself up into a sitting position so she’s resting against the headboard and is thankful when Klaus helps her. “Before you came back, we thought Stefan killed Silas but he’d used some last resort spell and it gave him the perfect out to recollect himself.”

“I guess he waited for a few years for things to settle down and for us to be off our guard.Damon was as happy as he could be considering Elena, Bonnie was back, and Stefan and I were getting back on good terms. Silas approached me on the last day of my Senior year.” Klaus notices as she bites her lip and looks down at her hands that have begun to twiddle in slight nervousness. “Silas made me think we were making some kind of deal. I leave my friends behind and never go back to Mystic Falls, or he kills me and everyone I care about. I chose to leave.”

Swallowing, her eyes darted from her hands to Klaus’ face to gauge what he might have been thinking but he wasn’t showing any sign other than that he was just listening to her, allowing her to pour whatever worries she had onto him.

“I don’t know if he thought that I would just settle down in some other place to get the opportunity to know my whereabouts while he tried to kill my friends but he called negotiations off when I skipped the third town I went to. So, he went after me.” When the single tear fell from her eye, she was a little surprised at how vulnerable she was allowing herself to be. “I told everyone that I was taking off for a little bit to go travel since I had finished college. I didn’t want them to try to find me and end up as one of Silas’ next victims.”

She pauses and wipes the stray tear away, trying to recollect herself. She must look like hell, crying would only make it worse. Caroline needed to man-up. There was no doubt that what Klaus had gone through with his father, or step-father, was worse.

Klaus leans forward and takes her hand into his, letting him drop a feather-light kiss along her knuckles. “You are safe. If I ever promise you anything, I will certainly promise you that.”

Caroline can’t help the small smile that forms on her face, knowing that he is being truly genuine. His lips turn up as well.

A small knock on the door interrupts them and Klaus rises from the bed. A taller dirty blonde woman stands in the doorway, analyzing both of them. Klaus crosses the room and pulls the woman further into the hallway, speaking to her in a hushed tone.

After a moment of back and forth conversation, they both advance into the room. Klaus pauses for a minute, watching as the woman approaches the side of the bed. She offers Caroline a reassuring smile that tells her she’s most likely a friend of Klaus’ or at least someone in his good graces.

“Caroline, right? I’m the older and wiser Mikealson sibling, Freya.” Caroline blinks for a moment and looks to Klaus in confusion. Although, she assumes what the woman, Freya, is saying must be somewhat true because all Klaus does is slightly roll his eyes in such a brotherly manner before turning towards the liquor tray.

“Niklaus tells me you need a little bit of a complex cloaking spell.” Caroline nods. Being that Freya must be a Mikealson, it is always safe to walk on eggshells around the ones she’s not very familiar with, no doubt the ones that she never knew about.

Freya turns towards the hybrid who was sipping his drink. “Will you fetch my grimoire and my herb bowl from the study, brother?” Klaus doesn’t seem all too eager to be ordered around but he does as asked and walks out of the room. Freya turns back towards Caroline and motions to the space when Klaus had sat before.

“May I?”

Caroline gives her a short nod and Freya smiles.

“Why are you being so nice to me? I thought all Mikealsons were kinda bordering on the ‘I don’t help anyone but my family’ ideology.” Caroline was going to be more subtle about it but she’s injured and doesn’t feel well, might as well rip off the band-aid.

Funnily enough, Freya laughs. “I’d agree with you but I’m quite aware of who you are.”

Now, that was surprising. Did Klaus say anything about her to his siblings? It didn’t seem like something he’d do. Her mouth opened to say something but she couldn’t find her words. It seems like Freya had an idea of what she was thinking and thought to correct her.

“I saw you when I entered my brother’s mind. If it weren’t under life and death circumstances I wouldn’t have done so. Trust me, I’ve already heard a mouthful from Niklaus.”

That made Caroline even a bit more nervous. Did this woman know everything about her and Klaus then? Had she watched some of their interactions? “How much do you know?” She asks.

“Just enough to know how important you are to my brother.”

That’s not cryptic at all. Caroline isn’t sure if that means Freya knows a little too much than she should or not but she imagines that she can’t push the woman any further than she’s willing so she shuts her mouth. And she also really doubts that Klaus is out of earshot, he can probably hear almost anything from the other side of the house so it’s best not to speak out of turn. Or maybe just not too much about him.

Speak of the devil, because he then walks through the door not even a few moments afterwards, carrying a grimoire and a small bowl with a few items in it that looked close to medical supplies.

He comes up behind his sister and sets her grimoire down on the bed and intentionally hands her the bowl, making her notice the extra supplies within. A sterile needle with surgical string and a couple other medical supplies. As he hands the bowl over to her, he murmurs, “perhaps you should also take a look at her wound, sister.”

By the look in his eye, she could tell he was a bit more concerned about the girl’s physical wound than the cloaking spell being down. Then again, both siblings knew that with all of the magic surrounding the Compound, it would take a highly skilled witch at least a couple hours to work through a location spell for anyone who was there.

Freya nods and takes the bowl from him. Klaus steps back and takes a seat directly across the room from the bed in one of the leather chairs, still allowing Caroline to see him.

The witch silently asks for permission to have a closer look at Caroline’s wound before pulling the new bandage away. Caroline watches Freya’s eyebrows furrow as she inspects the wound. Freya’s eyes look back up to her.

“Have you had this looked at before?”

Caroline shakes her head lightly. “But I tried to keep it closed.” Her lips turn up into a ghost of a smile. “You only learn so much in high school and college level health classes.” Freya understands the lightheartedness within the statement and offers her a smile.

“Well, it seems like you at least kept it clean.” Freya begins. “But I’ll need to stitch it up a little and possibly do a proper cleaning just in case. It’ll probably be easy to put you to sleep for that.”

Caroline’s eyebrows furrow at the lack of a surgical syringe. “Like a witchy anesthesia?”

Freya seems to enjoy her lack of magical knowledge and find amusement in it. “Something along those lines.”

“You’ve done it before, right?”

The witch lets out a small laugh. “Yes, but I can certainly do a demonstration.” Her head turns over her shoulder towards her younger brother but Klaus seems unimpressed.

It was a little reassuring seeing him naturally take up his brotherly role. She hadn’t ever really seen that side of him and never saw him actually interact with his siblings before. It was nice to know that even the Original Hybrid could act like a typical brother once in a great while.

“I promise it’s safe and when you wake, your wound will be patched right up.” Freya reassures and Caroline nods. She knows that Klaus will go just about as far as he possibly can to keep her safe which tells her that Freya is trustworthy. So, she doesn’t think about it too long before she murmurs, “okay.”

———————————————-

Upon breaking the fog of sleep, she doesn’t feel as weak as she had before Freya had put her to sleep which was a good sign. She begins to lift her head off the pillow and suddenly feels a warm hand help her sit up.

Looking over, she sees Klaus hovering beside her. “Easy, love. No need to tear your new sutures.”

His words remind her and she looks down, pulling her shirt up and the bandage aside to see her wound stitched up neatly with a strange light paste spread on top.

“My sister assured me that her little remedy,” he nods towards the paste on her wound, “should have healed you just enough to allow you to shower, if you wish to do so.”

The thought of a steaming hot shower is so appealing to her right now. “God, yes.” She sighs. It’s been so long since she’d been in any type of shower that wasn’t in a hotel or had some sort of modern day technology.

It seems Klaus enjoys her enthusiasm and takes it as a good sign for her health. “Would you like me to fetch my sister to help you?”

Caroline shakes her head. “No, it’s okay. I’m okay.” She silently thinks that should anything happen, he’ll most likely be listening in on her. It was a little creepy to think about but also made her feel a tad safer knowing that he’d always make sure she was safe.

He respects her choice and helps her stand. Waiting a moment to make sure she gets her bearings, he keeps a hand on the small of her back and leads her towards the entrance of the bathroom. She silently thanks him before he closes the door to a crack after her.

Looking around the bathroom, she’s not surprised about how lavish it is and how neat it’s kept. She never really took Klaus as the person who kept his personal space in disarray. As clean as it was, it still held the feeling of being used daily. One of the medicine cabinets was left cracked open a little, a small tin and classic shaving knife was left on top of a white cloth, and a bottle of cologne sat on the counter. If Caroline had possibly thought of a bathroom Klaus would ever call his, this is probably as close to it as she’d get.

Caroline decides that if she takes too long, Klaus may think something is wrong so she strips quickly and turns the water on. She’s pleased when it takes a whole couple seconds for the water to warm. Stepping into the shower, she sighs at how good it feels. The water runs down her, rinsing away all of the dirt and grime from the past couple days.

After getting her hair wet, she reads the minimalist labels on the three bottles that sat on the shower shelf. Thank God they weren’t the typical soaps that guys used nowadays. She shivers at the thought of two-in-one products. These were just simply packaged products that were obviously a little more on the manlier side of things but it’ll have to do.

Rubbing the shampoo and conditioner in her curls, she almost felt a weight lift off of her. Once she finished up basking in the warmth of the shower, she turned the dial off and stepped out. Grabbing the white towel, she wraps it around herself and tries to dry up as much as she can.

Upon walking back over to the bathroom counter she notices that she can’t exactly wear her old clothes but she does choose to wear her bra and underwear again. Hopefully she can ask Klaus to rile her up something for her to wear.

When she exits the bathroom, she immediately notices that the French doors that had led to the balcony outside were now closed with the drapes shut and the sliding door to the bedroom was almost shut all the way. She could hear a little movement in the next room over and assumed it was Klaus.

Stepping further into the bedroom, she sees that she doesn’t even need to ask Klaus for clothes because there’s a pair of yoga pants and t-shirt folded neatly on the bed. It was also accompanied with a hairbrush. Her heart warms at the thoughtfulness but then again, Klaus had always put thought behind a lot of things that involved her.

She’s quick to take the precious privacy that he allowed her and got dressed.

He finally emerged when she was finishing up brushing her hair. He held a plate of food and a glass of water. Caroline places the hairbrush down and into the drawer of the nightstand before scooting herself further back on the bed to give him enough space. Klaus sits down on the edge of the bed and places the glass of water on the nightstand, then handing Caroline the plate. At the sight of the scrambled eggs, bacon, and assortment of fruit on the plate, she was almost worried her stomach would growl. She doesn’t even remember when she last had a proper meal.

“Thank you.” She murmurs when he hands her a clean fork.

His smile is genuine and tells her that he doesn’t find helping her to be a chore. When he watches her carefully as she began to eat, she knew that if he’d done so a few years back she’d find it extremely creepy, but now she’s come to find out that it’s his way of communicating his reassurance. He’s silently telling her that he’s here, he’s going to protect her.

“I’ll leave you to eat. Perhaps get a few more hours of sleep, it’s only a quarter after six.” He states as he rises from the bed. His eyes drift for a moment down to her torso where her wound is covered by her shirt. Something in his eyes changes and he leans down close to her head. She pauses as his lips softly connect with her forehead. He pulls back a little and looks deep into her eyes.

“So long as I have a say in the matter, Silas will never get close enough to touch you again.” He then rises to his full length and exits the room.

——————————————

After eating and getting a couple more hours of sleep she’d ventured out of Klaus bedroom to find him again. When she did he was insistent about getting her at least a week’s worth of clothing for herself. She didn’t make a second objection, knowing that either way Klaus will get her clothing, it was just a matter of if she’d pick it out or have some compelled vampire do it. Thus he’d taken her to a few local shops. In typical guy fashion, Klaus hadn’t been too animated about watching her pick clothing out. In most of the stores, they’d parted ways- her towards anything that caught her eye and him to any empty seat he could find.

Caroline tried to be as time efficient as possible knowing that even a man who has waited a thousand years to break his curse, he still had his limits of patience. As much as she thought he dreaded chaperoning her, because he refused to have a possibility of another vampire thinking they could harm her, he still offered her considerate smiles. There were a few instances where she could feel the heat of his gaze as she walked out of the dressing room. She didn’t know what to make of it and brushed it aside.

This is hopefully the first and last time Caroline thinks this, but she is thankful that Klaus has the ability to compel vampires. He had a vampire, she forgot her name, retrieved Caroline’s brand new clothes and took them to the Compound so they could continue to stroll down a few of the streets.

If Caroline hadn’t spent the last couple years skipping from city to city, she thinks she may have been a little more amazed at the New Orleans architecture. But still, it was truly stunning. She liked that Klaus didn’t directly guide her but just allowed her to wander. Soon, they’d found themselves in a bar. The bartender that approached them seemed very familiar with Klaus and when he’d introduced her to Camille, the woman was welcoming.

It didn’t escape her notice how Camille had laid eyes on Klaus for a few seconds too long before walking off to let her and Klaus enjoy their drinks.

Caroline smiles a little at the situation. “You know, she likes you.”

His lips turn up and he sips his whiskey.

“You may not be aware of this, Caroline, but you are on the exceedingly short list of women who have rejected me.” His head turns towards her with a smug smirk. “You should feel lucky, most of those women are dead.”

Caroline rolls her eyes lightheartedly. “So lucky.” She breathes and looks away from him. His chuckle is rich and deep, making her crack a small smile.

“Quite a number of women find me charming, you surely had at one time.”

The statement brings out an instinct in her to say something snarky or quip something a little harsh but she chooses not to. Instead, her teeth catch her bottom lip as she lowers her gaze to the vodka soda. She doesn’t exactly know what to do. All she’s ever done with him was constantly impolitely reject him with statements about who he killed or what bad things he’s done.

Her eyes go up to see the bartender come out from the kitchen in the back. The girl gives them a small glance and Caroline offers her a friendly smile. Camille seems a little surprised by Caroline’s friendliness, almost as if she was expected to be ignored or brushed off. Caroline has no doubt that the crowd that Klaus would spend time with would be most certainly supernatural, thus their lack of interest in simple human servers. Although, Klaus seemed a little keen of her. Truthfully, she didn’t know what to think about it. If it was a few years ago, she would have rather drowned before admitting that she was a tad jealous when it came to Klaus, but she was older and more mature. So, yeah. Maybe she felt a little jealous that the girl’s feelings towards Klaus could be mutual. But she also wasn’t going to be spiteful of it.

Stirring the small straw that floated in her untouched drink, she murmurs, “If you want to go talk to her, there’s nothing stopping you.” Her voice is as neutral as she can make it.

Even now without her vampire senses, she could still feel his fiery gaze in the side of her head. He lets out a low chuckle.

“Camille is a close friend of my family. She’s sacrificed quite a bit to aid my family’s survival and I’ve repaid her loyalty with protection.” He begins. “Our relationship may have developed into somewhat of a complicated friendship since she’s known me, but that is simply it.”

Caroline turns her head towards him and his eyes are as clear blue as ever. “But by no means do I wish to be in anyone else’s company other than yours.”

There’s a brief moment between them where both of their solid barriers were dissolved and their eyes just simply met. They said nothing but their eyes communicated plenty. But, that moment was only brief.

The bell over the door to the bar chimes when it opens, the noise from the street could be heard for a moment before the door closes again. Both Klaus and Caroline are shaken out of their moment when a voice chimes.

“Now, this is interesting.”

Caroline is a little taken aback even though she should have expected to come across another Original. Hell, she wouldn’t doubt that the whole Mikealson clan was crawling around New Orleans at this point. It seemed to be almost like a hub for them.

Klaus is the first to turn in his seat and greet his sister. “Sister, a bit of a surprise to see you on this side of the river. Has Marcel finally bored you enough?” His tone has dramatically changed from the genuine one before to something more smartass-y.

When Caroline scoots on her stool a little to look more properly at the female Original, she notices how annoyed Rebekah gets because of Klaus’ comment.

“No, I came to visit my niece. Whom, in which, has noticed your lack of presence.” Rebekah then gives Caroline a disapproving glare. “But I think I know why.”

Klaus sighs quietly and Rebekah is about to say something but pauses. Her eyes scan Caroline carefully. After a moment, her eyes widen and she flashes towards Caroline, aggressively yelling, “who the bloody hell gave you the cure!?”

Caroline stumbles out of her stool as fast as she can and takes a few steps back. Rebekah is about to get into her face again but Klaus zips in front of her, blocking her way to Caroline.

“I-,” Caroline doesn’t know what to say or how to even start to calm down the Original. She’s not as strong as she once was. One little neck snap and she’ll be done.

“Rebekah.” Klaus growls in warning, earning a glare from his sister before her gaze goes back to the blonde.

“Why do you get the choice? You, of all people?”

Caroline is beyond grateful that no one else was in the bar because she’s sure that there could have been a bloodbath if there were.

Klaus is about to say something but Rebekah beats him to it.

“How is it that you get to have a normal life?”

Those words seemed to trigger something in Caroline. Something emotional.

“You think I want this? Do you think I chose to have a normal life where I’d meet some regular guy, marry him, have a few kids, and work for the rest of my life?” Rebekah frowns and Klaus turns his head just enough to look at her. “I didn’t. I don’t want that life and I didn’t choose to become human again. So, blame me all you want for being a bitch to you or whatever, but don’t blame me because you didn’t get the human life you’ve always wanted.”

It seems like Caroline’s words have an effect on Rebekah because she shrugs her brother’s hand away from her and takes a step back. Caroline can’t exactly know for sure but she thinks that maybe Rebekah can somewhat relate to her. Rebekah had always wanted to be human but was stuck as a vampire. Now, Caroline wants to be a vampire but is stuck as a human.

When Rebekah takes that step back and Klaus is sure she’s not going to try to attack Caroline again, he fully turns his body towards the blonde human. She can’t gauge exactly what he’s thinking but it could have been a cross between surprise and sympathy.

The younger Original looks almost a little guilty when she casts a glance towards Caroline but instead doesn’t say anything before flashing away. As the light breeze wafts over them from Rebekah’s exit, Klaus takes a step forward towards her.

“Caroline.”

She shakes her head. “I-,” her eyes shut for a moment. “Please don’t make me talk about it.”

She fully expects Klaus to struggle with her request but he quickly proves her wrong and gives her a short nod in understanding.

————————

Caroline’s fingers drum silently against the cold metal of the railing she’s stood behind. The city has now been cascaded in darkness but people still mull about on the street beneath her. The very idea of the liveliness of this city brings a smile to her face. The neon lights of shops and street lamps were now lit up to shine down on the passerbyers below, their drunken ramblings slightly muffled due to her human hearing.

She finds that Klaus was right. There was something about this city that not only attracted the party-seeking humans, but also the darker creatures who lurked in the shadows. She may not be a vampire any longer but that doesn’t mean the connection she holds with the darkness was shaken. There is not just history in this city, it is the home of the supernatural. Caroline bets that if she were still a vampire, she could have spotted a couple dozen supernaturals that had walked by in the past thirty minutes she's been up on Klaus’ balcony.

She only hopes it doesn’t attract a different kind of supernatural.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can sense movement just as a figure joins her. Their hand grasps the railing casually and when they sigh, a white cloud escapes their lips from the continuing dropping temperature of the night. He doesn’t attempt to make a move to slide closer to her and she appreciates the space he’s giving her, along with the time of silence.

As they stood in silence, listening to the noises of the city before them, she could recall how nervous she used to get during long periods of silence. She had always tried to fill them up with mindless chatter or something to that nature. But now? She finds that she sort of enjoys it. His presence may be a little nerve-wracking at times of tension but, as of late, Caroline seems to feel at ease knowing he’s just right there- not totally offering her comfort but the reassurance of his presence.

“You’re cold.” His voice murmurs smoothly through the air. It’s only then that she notices the goosebumps that trek along her arms. The light breeze flows around them once more, reminding Caroline that she doesn’t have as much tolerance to the weather as she once had when she was a vampire.

Her eyes lifted towards him to watch as he slid the casual high-collared blazer off just to then gently place it over her shoulders. Caroline’s arms cross and grasp the sides of the coat, pulling it closer to her body before offering him a smile in thanks. Although his eyes seemed to be light, there was a hint of concern to be seen.

“Caroline, what aren’t you telling me?”

The words surprise her, not because he’s asking them, but because he’s asking them now. She should have felt lucky that he hadn’t asked her earlier or even within the first ten minutes she was in New Orleans.

A lot. She thinks.

When she doesn’t speak, he sighs and shifts closer to her.

“You should be aware that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, but I can’t very well do it if I don’t know any of the details.” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “I understand that these past few years haven’t been as undemanding as you’ve hoped, but you need to tell me something- anything- so that I can help you.”

Caroline contemplates just shrugging it off and telling him there’s nothing to talk about but that would be a lie. A big lie. She came to him for help, slept in his bed, and ate his food. It would have been foolish of her to think that she could take full advantage of his protection and not have to give him a detailed explanation. But, she doesn’t know exactly how to start and how to proceed. There are specifics that he doesn’t want him to know about, but if she were to leave them out, she’s sure that he is intelligent enough to put a few pieces together, or at least tell that she’s leaving a few key details out. She had two options. Either she tells the truth or she omits, telling him that she doesn’t have the courage to give him an explanation. The last option would be the easier route, but one that would most likely drive a wedge between them, thus possibly compromising their safety.

If she were younger, she would have grappled for a third option. But she was older and more mature now. Even though the prospect of what Klaus may think of her afterwards held a sizable weight over her head, she knew that she couldn’t avoid telling Klaus the truth.

“Silas isn’t just chasing me because I helped in the plan to kill him.” She breathes.

Klaus’ eyes blink in surprise, as if he’s shocked that she’s actually opening up to him. But he allows her to continue.

“When you came back to Mystic Falls, I didn’t tell you the whole truth about what happened with Silas. When Stefan lured Silas outside, I was left alone on the far side of the boarding house. Someone had grabbed me and I acted on instinct because I knew Damon, Elena, and Qetsiyah were in the parlor, so I assumed it was Silas.” Caroline looks away from the Original and out towards the night sky. “It turned out to be Amara.” Her eyes slowly drifted back over to him to gauge his reaction. He stood still, eyes just taking her in and processing the information that she was offering him.

“Silas’ one true love.” Her eyes hold guilt and a sadness within them as she remembers the events that occurred nearly five years ago. “She was innocent and I killed her.”

A stray tear begins to form in her eye and bubbles over, making a thin wet trail down her cheek. Klaus’ hand doesn’t move as fast as it normally does when he gently wipes the tear from her face, making sure not to make any moves that she wouldn’t be able to reject. The heat of his palm against her jaw and the pressure it holds gives her an odd sense of comfort that she wouldn’t have expected.

“I don’t know how he found out after he faked his death, but he-,” she begins to struggle to speak, the emotions beginning to take advantage of her. “He approached me in my dorm one day and I’m not sure if he planned it or not, but Tyler happened to walk in.”

Caroline lets out a small exhale to try to keep her emotions slightly underwraps but she can’t help the couple tears that escape her eyes. Turning her head away, she feels a shade of guilt run through her. “He- he killed Tyler right in front of me.” She also tried to explain how after Silas left her with his ultimatum, she had to find a place to bury Tyler and come up with a story for his absence, but she thinks she would have totally broken down if she spoke another word. It didn’t take much longer than a couple seconds before his arms had brought her closer to him and she didn’t shy away from pushing her head into his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his torso.

The heat radiating off of him almost felt like it began to wrap around her, comforting her in her grief. Klaus kept one arm around her back and another in the hair on the back of her head. His head craned down and he gently pressed his lips to her temple. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. She feels the most safe she has ever felt in the past two years in his arms. The sandalwood cologne fills her lungs when her nose digs deeply into his shirt, surely ruining it with her tears but she's not too worried about that right now.

After a few long moments of being wrapped up in his body, he halts the slow brushing of her hair that she had just noticed he was doing. Klaus’ head pulls away to get a better look at her and she tilts her head up to do the same.

“Come. Let’s get you inside.”

Caroline nods and lets Klaus guide her back into his bedroom. He shuts the French doors behind him and closes the cream drapes, the sounds of the city now greatly muffled by the extra barrier. Caroline walks over to the bed. Once she’s sat down, Klaus is already over by the fireplace and starting the fire. She tries to catch her breath. Although she wasn’t sobbing, she still finds it hard to regain herself. A crackle comes from the fireplace and when Klaus stands from his crouched position, she can see the small flames of the fire begin to lick at the wood inside. In no time, Klaus is right there, taking the coat from her shoulders and silently encouraging her to lay down on the bed. She pulls the soft covers over herself as Klaus’ eyes rove over her.

“Will you stay?” The words escape her lips before she can understand what she had said.

Klaus studies her for a moment but his attention is pulled towards the sliding doors that are cracked open just enough for him to see his brother. His brother’s presence now reminds him of the factions meeting they were supposed to attend tonight in light of the recent events between the witches, werewolves, and vampires, but Caroline is in a sensitive emotional position. Although he finds it surprising for her to feel comforted by him, he doesn’t feel as inadequate for the job as he would with anyone else. He decides then what he will do. New Orleans can wait. If anything, his brother is more than equipped with handling tonight’s meeting without him.

His head turns back towards Caroline. The deep blue of his eyes already indicate his answer to her and she slides to the other side of the bed to give him room. Klaus toes off his boots and just before he lays down, his eyes glance up to see the sliding door closing all the way and his brother’s footsteps retreating away.

When he’s settled onto his back, Caroline quickly tucks into his side. The move isn’t unexpected with her trying to seek a source of comfort. He slowly pulls his arm out from under her and instead wraps it around her body, placing his hand just above her hip as she buries herself into his ribcage.

Klaus lays there for a while, listening to the changes in her heart beat and studying the way it slows when she falls asleep. He only allows himself to shut his eyes when he hears his brother return an hour later, feeling more comfortable being asleep when at least one other Original is awake. He won’t take any chances with Caroline. He won’t risk losing her.

-------------------------------------------------

When Caroline wakes up that next morning, she isn’t shocked that she’s alone and the place where he had once been was vacant of his body heat. She never assumed Klaus to be the type of man to sleep in by any means being as paranoid as he usually was but it had seemed like he’d been gone for quite a while. As much as she wants to think that maybe he had some weird bout of inspiration to paint or do whatever artistic thing he prided himself with, she has the better judgement to know it was business related.

From what she could tell, he and his brother were the main one’s calling the shots in the French Quarter. Not unexpected, considering Klaus is, well, Klaus. But he has subtly mentioned from time to time whilst they were out yesterday that there was some tension between a few of the supernatural factions. Caroline imagines that it's more of a regular occurrence and something that comes with ‘ruling’ (Klaus’ words, not her’s) over the supernatural community within New Orleans. Thus, it doesn’t take a genius to understand Klaus must have a decent amount of business to conduct most of the time. She wouldn’t be all too surprised if he was out handing threats out like flyers first thing in the morning.

The mere idea that Klaus has probably been awake for at least a couple hours now prompted her to get motivated for the day. Although she didn’t directly have any plans other than possibly not getting her throat ripped out by Rebekah, she still needed to eat.

It didn’t take her long to get dressed and make her way out of Klaus’ bedroom. But when she made it to the hallway outside of Klaus’ study, she was a little torn on what she should do next. Klaus hadn’t exactly shown her around the Compound so she really only knows the way in and out of the Compound from his living quarters.

There were a few doors on each side of the hallway. She chose the route she was more familiar with and decided to start there. Fearing that she might be interfering in his family’s privacy, she only ventured into the rooms that were already open. She first found a parlor room with dark red couches and a small wet bar, next she found a very extensive library where she read a few of the titles of the books. Some were familiar and some were totally unknown to her, but she imagined that she wouldn’t know any books that were written in other languages like the French one she decided to flip open. After finding a few first editions, she thought it best to move on and keep her human, clumsy hands away from books that could be worth more than a couple thousand dollars. When exiting the library and finding the courtyard, she climbed down the stairs and got lucky when she found the kitchen.

Walking over to the fridge, she crosses her fingers that she doesn’t just see blood bags. Upon opening the fridge, she’s satisfied to find a tray of eggs, milk carton, a drawer dedicated to fruits and vegetables, a couple bottles of water, some condiments in the door slots, and a couple other assorted food items that were relatively healthy. She would do just about anything right now to satisfy her sweet tooth that she woke up with but she’s also grateful that the Mikealson’s even have food in general, so she’ll take what she can get. So, Caroline takes the grape jelly out of the door slot and then goes to search for bread. Surely if they had food in the fridge, they had to have some non-refrigerated items too, right?

Looking through a couple of the cabinets, she mentally notes which cabinet held the plates, glassware, coffee grounds, and such. She finally finds the bread and limits herself to two slices. She may be hungry but she’s also human.

Grabbing a plate and spotting the toaster conveniently placed on the counter next to the coffee machine, she places the slices of bread inside.

In that moment, she thinks of the simple weekday mornings just before school. Those so easy and simple times where she had convinced herself could be the worst for her. How wrong she was. Now, she misses those mornings where all she had to worry about was boys and if she was going to pass that week’s pop quiz. In fact, she can even say she misses the times where the worst that could happen was an unexpected visit from a particularly moody Original hybrid in which had a 50/50 percent chance of ending with a pair of toxic hybrid teeth in someone’s throat.

Now, Caroline realizes that Klaus must have either grown to enjoy watching her and her friend’s failed attempts to end his life or preferred to use ‘kid-gloves’ because if he were to kill any of her friends, he knew better than to think she’d ever forgive him. Either way, she feels somewhat lucky in an odd way that he hadn’t reacted as badly as she now knew he could have. Unlike Klaus, Silas had no attraction or reason to extend any amount of mercy towards her, which was extremely terrifying. Silas may be mortal now but he is also a very powerful witch. One that was able to keep up with her when she was still a vampire.

The ding of the toaster brings her out of her reverie. Caroline reaches into the toaster to carefully pull the slice of bread out. The front of her finger grazes the hot metal inside and she pulls it out as quickly as she can on instinct. “Damnit!” She whispers heatedly, knowing there were other vampires within the house. In the process of taking a step back as the pain still sizzles underneath her skin, she could see something in her peripheral vision. Turning her head quickly, she yelps.

“Shit!” She curses, jumping slightly in her own skin when she finds an unexpected figure in the entranceway of the kitchen.

A smirk graces his features and a deep chuckle escapes his lips.

“God, you can’t do that. I can’t exactly sense when you’re creepily stalking me anymore.”

He doesn’t respond but she thinks he gets the point. Klaus walks over to her and easily deposits both slices of toast onto the plate she had out. Fishing out a butter knife from one of the drawers and opening the lid to the jam.

“I’d like to take you somewhere.” His eyes glance over to her as she watches him spread the jam over the slices of toast before placing the used knife into the stainless steel sink. He then slides the plate closer to her and walks back over to the fridge to put the jar of jam away.

Caroline takes the plate and takes a couple steps over to the island counter where a couple stools sat. She sits and takes a bite out of her toast. “Now?”

“As soon as you are ready.” He then grins at her, clearly hiding something from her. “Although, I recommend you wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.”

----------------------------

They’ve been in the car maybe five minutes before Caroline began to question him on where he was taking her.

“Seriously?”

His eyebrow rises and he glances towards her with lighthearted eyes that tell her he was certainly enjoying her irritation. Caroline just resorts to glaring at him but it doesn't hold nearly the same weight that it had a few years ago when she’d glare at him then and he clearly knows it. Klaus’ eyes return to the road and Caroline sighs, settling further into the leather seat of his luxury SUV.

“If you can’t tell me where we’re going, can you at least tell me something?” She asks, thinking that maybe he would want to play the ‘hint game.��

A sly smirk puts the edge of his lips up. Instead of giving into her, he decides to veer off into a different topic altogether.

“Do you recall the period of time when Alaric helped train the doppelganger in the ridiculous hope that it would somehow keep her safe from my siblings and myself?”

Caroline is a little taken aback by his question. Obviously, she remembers. Elena had once tried to get her to join her and Alaric. What surprised her about it though was that he even knew about it in the first place because Elena had thought they’d kept it all ‘hush hush’ specifically so he wouldn’t find out. Although, Caroline now thinks that he would most likely know from pulling the information out of Tyler or having a hybrid tail them once in a while. Both scenarios are equally as realistic.

The Land Rover slows and turns down a dirt path that is cascaded with tall trees. Clearly, he was taking her somewhere in the countryside.

“Yeah, but I don’t see how that’s relevant unless you plan to drag me out into the middle of the woods and kill me.” She turns her head to look at him. “Because I will put up one hell of a fight.”

His chuckle is low but not in a dark way. The blue in his eyes gets a little brighter when he parks the car at the edge of a large clearing. There’s a few fallen logs and if Caroline squints just enough, she can make out the shape of a couple makeshift tents a couple hundred yards away. She feels the Original turn towards her after shutting the car off and she looks his way.

“Trust me, sweetheart, if I were to make you my victim, I wouldn’t need to take you to the Bayou.” The tone in his voice is as casual as if he were talking about dinner plans and the smile he dotes is edging on the side of diabolical.

She raises a brow and turns away from him as she opens the passenger side door. “Because that makes me feel reassured.” Caroline knows his lips tug higher up into his cheeks, enjoying her slight sarcasm and their back-and-forth banter. Sometimes she thinks he likes making her angry, she can’t really think of a reason why, but he seems to always draw that emotion out of her at times when he doesn’t really have to.

Upon getting out, she notices he rounds the back of the car and opens the tailgate. Klaus pulls two objects out and closes the tailgate before meeting her a few paces away from the black vehicle. Her eyes widen a hair and her eyebrows rise dramatically when she sees what he took out for the back of his SUV.

He holds two long medieval looking swords, one in each hand. Stepping up to her, he readjusts his grip on one of the swords and holds it by the blade, offering it to her by the leather wrapped handle. She physically hesitates, clearly confused about what his end goal was.

Klaus seems amused by her reaction and tips his head to the side.

“Go on, it won’t bite you.”

Her eyes shift from the sword in his hands and his eyes. Slowly, she grasps the handle of the sword and Klaus lets go. Caroline struggles for a moment, the sword being heavier than she had anticipated. Not knowing what to do with it, she lets the end of it sit on the ground.

On the other hand, Klaus holds his sword by the handle and holds it out diagonally in the air.

“Strike it.” He orders.

Caroline does nothing except look at him strangely before rolling her eyes. “Seriously? You brought me out here for your own amusement? Newsflash, I’m not exactly some minion you can drag out to weird places and play ‘swords’ with.”

Klaus sighs and lowers the sword down, expertly thrusting the point into the grassy ground.

“This is no game, love. As much as I’d like to be showing you my city, I have a vested interest in your safety and to keep you protected. From what I have come to realize within the past years in residing in New Orleans, I can’t be in multiple places at once. Thus, why we are here.” His empty hand motions along as he speaks and his eyes glance around the clearing at it’s mention. “I’d like to be able to say that I will be by your side at all times, but that would simply be false. Which is why I think it is pertinent and rather of astronomically great import that you have some ability to defend yourself.”

Caroline glances down at the sword in his hand. “With a sword?” She asks with a stifled laugh, almost amused by the thought of using a sword in an actual realistic fight.

“No, but it gives you a starting place and the ability to learn how to use spare objects as weapons.”

Klaus then raises the sword again and nods. “Now, strike it.”

[amuelia]

How do you think Roose will meet his demise? Or will he survive? What's your best Roose end game predictions?

Thank you for the question! This will be a long post under the readmore, going into my thoughts on the show ending and exploring what the books may have set up in regards to themes and characterization, as well as a bit of general analysis of Roose' story arc in a Dance with Dragons (and some speculation about Ramsay as well).

If you click on the readmore i will have divided the post into sections with bolded Headers, if you want to only read my specific endgame ideas you can skip ahead to the "His Endgame?" section.

In The Show

The show had him get killed by Ramsay in s6, which informs a lot of the fandom speculation about this storyline.

I am not a fan of the show's scenario as it was both similar to tywin and tyrion as well as a mirror of robb's death; it would also be offscreen in the books since neither of the characters are PoVs and Ramsay would need to do the act in secret. This would ultimately undercut Roose' role and impact, being a death scene that is not very unique and also isn't shown to the reader directly. Since no PoV is even in Winterfell currently, we would just hear of it from afar and not witness the consequences.

The show also has a different dynamic in the Bolton storyline, emphasizing Ramsay as the "main character" of this arc, and elevating him to the main villain for s5-6 to fill Joffrey's shoes as an evil character played by a very charismatic actor. Ramsay's show writing is informed by the needs of a TV setting that wants shocking moments and capitalizes on "fan favourite" actors; his rising importance in the show thus is not necessarily an indicator of his book importance. The show was also missing many central characters like the northern lords and the Frey men in Winterfell.

The show had a tendency to kill off characters early when they wanted to cull storylines or had no plans to adapt more of the character's story (like Stannis, Barristan, possibly the Tyrells...); In Mance Rayder we have the most obvious example, where they killed him off for real in a scene that in the book was a misdirection. We also have characters like Jorah where it appears the showrunners had their own choice of how they want his storyline to end, even if Grrm has his own ending in mind.

"For a long time we wanted Ser Jorah to be there at The Wall in the end," writer Dave Hill says. "The three coming out of the tunnel would be Jon and Jorah and Tormund. But [...] Jorah should have the noble death he craves defending the woman he loves." - Dave Hill for Entertainment Weekly

So a death in the show does not need to be an indicator that the books will feature an equivalent scene, even if it gives a hint as to what may happen. By s5 the show has become its own beast, and the butterfly effects from radical changes they made as well as the different characterizations results in the show having to cater to its own needs in many cases when it gets to resolving a plotline.

"We reconceived the role to make it worthy of the actor's talents." - Benioff and Weiss for the s5 DVD commentary, on Indira Varma's casting as Ellaria

In The Books

(Since this post was getting out of hand in length a lot of these arguments are a little shortened/not as in-depth as i'd like! Feel free to inquire more via ask if something is unclear or you disagree)

In the books i find it hard to make a concrete guess as to how it will end. Occam's razor would be to assume the show sort of got it right and that it will vaguely end the same, which could very well happen and i will not discount the possibility; Ramsay is cruel, desires the Dreadfort rule, and is a suspected kinslayer and has no qualms to commit immoral violence.

"Ramsay killed [his brother]. A sickness of the bowels, Maester Uthor says, but I say poison." - Reek III, aDwD

Reek saw the way Ramsay's mouth twisted, the spittle glistening between his lips. He feared he might leap the table with his dagger in his hand [to attack his father]. - Reek III, aDwD

Arguments against this or for a different endgame come down to interpretations of the themes in the story arc and opinions on dramatic structure/grrm's writing, and are thus very subjective.

The way the story currently is going, Ramsay killing Roose treats Roose almost as a plot device; his death brings no change or development to Ramsay's character as we already know his motivations and cruelty align with such an act, and we can assume that he would feel no remorse about it either. The results of such a scene would be firmly on a story level, as it brings political changes and moves the plot along into a specific direction. Roose himself cannot have any relevant character development about it as he does not have a PoV and we would not be able to witness his reaction from the outside.

“The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself.” - William Faulkner, often quoted by Grrm

Further, killing his father is very difficult to pull off in secret (Roose is frequently described as very cautious, and employs many guardsmen). And even if Ramsay pulls it off (people often interpret Ramsay as Roose' blind spot, assuming he might be caught by surprise, not expecting Ramsay would bite the hand that feeds him), Roose is the one that holds his entire alliance together; The Freys would be alienated by Ramsay who would antagonize Walda and her son as his rivals, The Ryswell bloc appears to dislike Ramsay (especially Barbrey), and the other northmen are implied to not even like Roose himself. Killing Roose would quickly combust the entire northern faction, and hinder Ramsay's further plans (another reason why I am not convinced of a book version of the "Battle of Bastards"). Though this might of course, if we look at it from the other side, be grrm's plan to quickly dissolve this plot and move the northern story forwards.

"Ramsay will kill [Walda's children], of course. [...] [She] will grieve to see them die, though." - Reek III, aDwD

"How many of our grudging friends do you imagine we'd retain if the truth were known? Only Lady Barbrey, whom you would turn into a pair of boots … inferior boots." - Reek III, aDwD

"Fear is what keeps a man alive in this world of treachery and deceit. Even here in Barrowton the crows are circling, waiting to feast upon our flesh. The Cerwyns and the Tallharts are not to be relied on, my fat friend Lord Wyman plots betrayal, and Whoresbane … the Umbers may seem simple, but they are not without a certain low cunning. Ramsay should fear them all, as I do." - Reek III, aDwD

Roose' death at Ramsay's hand also removes him thematically from the Red Wedding, as we can assume such a death might have happened regardless of his participation in the event (seeing as Ramsay is getting provoked by Roose constantly in normal dialogue, and has a general violent disposition). Roose already took Ramsay in before aGoT started, and married Walda very early in the war, which is already most of the buildup that the show's scenario had. It also has little to do with the The North Remembers plot except set dressing, since the northmen are presumably neither collaborating with/egging on Ramsay nor would they appreciate the development.

Themes: Ned Stark and the rule over the North

Roose is treated as a foil to Eddard; They are often contrasted in morals and ruling styles, while also having many superficial similarities that further connect them (they are seen as cold by people, grey eyed, patriarchs of rivalling northern houses, etc...).

Pale as morning mist, his eyes concealed more than they told. Jaime misliked those eyes. They reminded him of the day at King's Landing when Ned Stark had found him seated on the Iron Throne. - Jaime IV, aSoS

They both have a "bastard son" that they handle very differently; Roose treating Ramsay in the way that is seen as common in their society. Ramsay and Jon as a comparison are meant to show that Catelyn had a reason to see a bastard as a threat (since Domeric was antagonized by his bastard brother), but also shows that her suggested plan for Jon would not have stopped any danger either (as Ramsay being raised away from the castle didn't help).

And if his seed quickened, she expected he would see to the child's needs. He did more than that. The Starks were not like other men. Ned brought his bastard home with him, and called him "son" for all the north to see. - Catelyn II, aGoT

"Each year I sent the woman some piglets and chickens and a bag of stars, on the understanding that she was never to tell the boy who had fathered him. A peaceful land, a quiet people, that has always been my rule." - Reek III, aDwD

It appears to me that Roose' story functions in some ways as an inversion to Ned. He makes an attempt to grab a power he was not destined to (becoming warden of the north), where Ned did not want the responsiblity thrust upon him ("It was all meant for Brandon. [...] I never asked for this cup to pass to me." - Cat II, aGoT). Where Ned rules successfully and his northmen honor his legacy ("What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl." - The Turncloak, aDwD), the Boltons are largely hated and there are several plots conspiring against them ("Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die." - The King's Prize, aDwD).

It seems possible to me that in terms of their family and legacy, Roose might also live through an inverted version of Ned's story; where Ned died first, leaving his family behind, Roose already lived to see the death of his wives and trueborn heir, and might thus also live to see Ramsay's death. Ned leaves behind well raised children and a North who still respects his name, and even though he dies it will presumably all be "in good hands" in the end (in broad strokes, obviously this is all much more morally complex). Roose however built up a bad and toxic legacy, and also built his way of life around evading consequences; it makes sense to me that he would be forced by the story to finally endure all the consequences of his actions and witness the fall of his house firsthand. After all we already have Tywin who fulfils the purpose of dying before his children while his legacy falls to ruins, and a Feast for Crows explores this aspect thoroughly.

Roose' arc in A Dance With Dragons

The story repeatedly builds up the situation unravelling around Roose, and him slowly losing a grip on it and becoming more stressed and anxious.

Reek wondered if Roose Bolton ever cried. If so, do the tears feel cold upon his cheeks? - Reek II, aDwD

Roose Bolton said nothing at all. But Theon Greyjoy saw a look in his pale eyes that he had never seen before—an uneasiness, even a hint of fear. [...] That night the new stable collapsed beneath the weight of the snow that had buried it. - a Ghost in Winterfell, aDwD

Lady Walda gave a shriek and clutched at her lord husband's arm. "Stop," Roose Bolton shouted. "Stop this madness." His own men rushed forward as the Manderlys vaulted over the benches to get at the Freys. - Theon I, aDwD

It also directly presents him as a parallel to Theon's rule in aCoK, who similarly experienced a very unpopular rule and his subjects slowly turning against him. Presumably, the point of this comparison will not just be "Ramsay comes in at the end and unexpectedly whacks them on the head". Both Theon and Roose invited Ramsay into their lives, giving him more power than he deserves, and causing Ramsay to make choices that increasingly alienate others from them (the death of the miller's boys for example has repercussions for both Theon and Roose). Grrm is likely steering this towards a difference in how they will deal with this situation.

It all seemed so familiar, like a mummer show that he had seen before. Only the mummers had changed. Roose Bolton was playing the part that Theon had played the last time round, and the dead men were playing the parts of Aggar, Gynir Rednose, and Gelmarr the Grim. Reek was there too, he remembered, but he was a different Reek, a Reek with bloody hands and lies dripping from his lips, sweet as honey. - a Ghost in Winterfell, aDwD

"Stark's little wolflings are dead," said Ramsay, sloshing some more ale into his cup, "and they'll stay dead. Let them show their ugly faces, and my girls will rip those wolves of theirs to pieces. The sooner they turn up, the sooner I kill them again." - The elder Bolton sighed. "Again? Surely you misspeak. You never slew Lord Eddard's sons, those two sweet boys we loved so well. That was Theon Turncloak's work, remember? How many of our grudging friends do you imagine we'd retain if the truth were known?" - Reek III, aDwD

Roose' arc is deeply connected to the relations he shares to the other northern lords, which has been heavily impacted by the Red Wedding. It stands to reason that they are going to be an important part of his downfall, and we see many hints of them plotting to betray him.

The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer's farce is almost done. My son is home." - Davos IV, aDwD

Themes: Stannis and kinslaying

The books set up Roose and Stannis as foils as well; Both lack charisma and have trouble winnning the people's support, Stannis and Roose both parallel and contrast Ned, Stannis appears as a "lesser Robert" where Roose is a "lesser Ned", Stannis represents the fire where Roose represents the ice, both struggle over dominion in a land that doesnt particularly want either of them, etc... What i find interesting is how they are contrasted over kinslaying:

"Only Renly could vex me so with a piece of fruit. He brought his doom on himself with his treason, but I did love him, Davos. I know that now. I swear, I will go to my grave thinking of my brother's peach." - Davos II, aCoK

"I should've had the mother whipped and thrown her child down a well … but the babe did have my eyes." [...] "Now [Domeric's] bones lie beneath the Dreadfort with the bones of his brothers, who died still in the cradle, and I am left with Ramsay. Tell me, my lord … if the kinslayer is accursed, what is a father to do when one son slays another?" - Reek III, aCoK

Stannis is set up as someone who is very thorough and strict in following his own code and his "duty", even if he does not like what it forces him to do.

Stannis ground his teeth again. "I never asked for this crown. Gold is cold and heavy on the head, but so long as I am the king, I have a duty . . . If I must sacrifice one child to the flames to save a million from the dark . . . Sacrifice . . . is never easy, Davos. Or it is no true sacrifice. Tell him, my lady." - Davos IV, aSoS

The armorer considered that a moment. "Robert was the true steel. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, yes, but brittle, the way iron gets. He'll break before he bends." - Jon I, aCoK

Roose however is frequently characterized as someone who tries to get as much as he can while avoiding negative consequences, and who does not have a consistent moral code and instead bends rules to his benefit to be the most comfortable to him.

It is often theorized that Stannis will end up burning his daughter Shireen; the Ramsay issue might then serve to contrast the two men. If Grrm intends it to be compared by the reader, I can see it going two ways: Either Roose will be forced to finally act in a drastic way after avoiding his responsibility in regards to Ramsay and he will be forced to get rid of his son, making him break the only moral hurdle he has presented adhering to during the story (though analyzing his character, the kinslaying taboo is probably less a sign of moral fortitude and more him using the guise of morals to explain a selfish motivation). Or he might not act against Ramsay and suffer the consequences, presenting an interesting moral situation where some readers might consider his action "better" or more relatable than Stannis', breaking up the otherwise very black and white moral comparison between the two men. It serves as an interesting conflict of the morality of kinslaying compared to what readers might see as a moral obligation of getting rid of a monster such as Ramsay; contrasting Shireen whose death would not be seen as worth it by most. Ramsay as a bastard (who was almost killed at birth if he hadnt been able to prove his paternity) also makes for an interesting verbal parallel with the bastard Edric Storm, and might be used for a look at the utilitarian principle of killing a child (baby ramsay/edric) to save countless people from suffering that underpinned Edric's story.

"As Faulkner says, all of us have the capacity in us for great good and for great evil, for love but also for hate. I wanted to write those kinds of complex character in a fantasy, and not just have all the good people get together to fight the bad guy." - Grrm

"Robert, I ask you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children?" - Eddard VIII, aGoT

"If Joffrey should die . . . what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?" - "Everything," said Davos, softly. - Davos V, aSoS

However Grrm decides to present these conflicts or which actions the characters will take in the end, it will result in interesting discussion and analysis for the readers.

His Endgame?

Looking at the trends of the past books, it is probably going to be hard to predict any specific outcome; every book introduces new characters and plot elements that were impossible to predict from the last book even if their thematic importance or setup was aptly foreshadowed.

Roose has a lot of plot importance and characterization that has, in my opinion, not yet been properly resolved in a way that would be unique and poignant to the specific purpose his character appears to fulfil. However I also have a bias in that i did not like the show's writing of that scene which makes me averse to see a version of it in the books, and i really like Roose as a character and want to see him have more scenes in the next book(s). This leads me to discount plot speculation that cuts his character arc short offscreen early. Roose is only a side character; however, i have trust in grrm's writing abilities and that he would give him a proper sendoff that feels satisfying to a fan of the character.

"…even the [characters] who are complete bastards, nasty, twisted, deeply flawed human beings with serious psychological problems… When I get inside their skin and look out through their eyes, I have to feel a certain — if not sympathy, certainly empathy for them. I have to try to perceive the world as they do, and that creates a certain amount of affection." — George Martin

Considering my earlier analyis, there is a case to be made for Roose killing Ramsay; however it appears grrm might have a different endgame in mind for Ramsay, foreshadowed in Chett's prologue:

There'd be no lord's life for the leechman's son, no keep to call his own, no wives nor crowns. Only a wildling's sword in his belly, and then an unmarked grave. The snow's taken it all from me . . . the bloody snow . . . - Chett, aSoS

I tend to think something might happen to Roose/the Bolton bloc later in the book that would cause Ramsay to attempt to flee the scene again like he did back in aCoK fleeing Rodrik's justice; perhaps Ramsay is sent out to battle but then flees it like a coward, or he sees his cause as lost. This time, the fleeing and potentially disguised Ramsay would not make it out to safety though, and get killed without being recognized as Ramsay, dying forgotten. This would serve as dramatic irony since Ramsay so strongly desired to be recognized and respected as a Lord of Bolton, without being too on the nose.

As for Roose, i could see him getting captured and somehow brought to justice (either when someone takes Winterfell or in some sort of battle). I see it unlikely that he will be backstabbed like Robb was, because it seems very "eye for an eye" and ultimately doesn't teach much of a lesson except "he had it coming"; But the various people conspiring against him could lead to his capture by betraying him (giving a payoff to the northern conspiracies and the red wedding). I would find a scene of him standing trial interesting since i believe we didn't have one of these for a true non-pov villain yet, and it would be an interesting confrontation that he cannot escape from (he also loves to talk so it would be a good read to see him make a case for himself).

I assume Roose will be out of the picture when the Other plot finally properly kicks into gear (whether dead or "in prison"). With Stannis as a false Azor Ahai and Roose as a false Other (with his pale, cold features), their struggle in the north seems to be a representation of the false "Game of Thrones" that distracts people from the "real threat" of the Others.

As always this is just my opinion, and it could all go very differently in the books! There could always be something that completely uproots my analysis and goes into a direction i did not expect from the material we had; But i have fate that Grrm as a writer will deliver and give me something i can be satisfied with.

[retrievablememories]

afterdeath | lucas

title: afterdeath pairing: vampire!lucas x fairy!reader genre: angst, forbidden romance, fantasy, vampire!au request: May I request a Vampire!Lucas with a fairy!s/o (Forbidden romance perhaps?) word count: 8.6k warnings: descriptions of death and sickness, mentions of a funeral, viewing, and funerary preparations, major character death (but...with a slight twist), mentions of blood and drinking blood, smoking cigarettes, arguments/conflict, mentions of physical violence, some romeo and juliet elements? a/n: hmm this fic probably could’ve been more detailed but i was trying to avoid triggering my own damn self with so much talk of death...ha...not sure why i went this route but i wanted a forbidden romance with an actual decent ending for both characters and this was the first idea i had recommended songs: OLLA - jhené aiko

Year 1508

“We’ve felled the demon!”

“Indeed, we have!”

Cheers ring through the dawn as a large group of fairies dance around an immense bonfire, raising their shouts of celebration to the sky. Within the fire burns the body of the Primitiva Vampire, the One and Only Pureblood, haphazardly thrown over the wood pile and relieved of her head—which sits near the bottom of the burning mass of wood, her face still twisted in a mien of anger.

As the sky begins turning lighter with the onset of sunrise, the fairies continue their celebration, staying close to the fire all the while. They carry large flaming torches to guard against any of the Primitiva Vampire’s followers who might try to sneak upon them and strike in that sliver of space where the sun has yet to rise.

The Primitiva Vampire had a long reign of terrorizing fairies and turning humans and other supernatural creatures into vampires. Each transformed being became a terrible revenant, one which viciously hunted villages and stole into people’s homes for more blood, more death, and more unwilling adherents to the vampiric cult.

Mass numbers of fairies had been decimated once the vampires first tasted their blood and took a unique liking to it. For over 200 years, the carnage continued on at the hand of the Primitiva Vampire, who had one day blinked into existence in a way that could never really be explained by any conceivable means, either human or magic. And without ever giving a hint to her strange conception, she tore across cities and towns, converting others into night creatures like herself and building a loyal following of half-bedeviled beings.

When fairy populations had dwindled to nearly extinction-level quantities, they were left no other choice—fight back or be wiped completely from the universe’s ledger. So they took up arms, honed their magic skills, and did just that.

And now, all their efforts culminate in this blood-stained morning. It marks a much-anticipated moment of revelry before they have to return to their posts to watch for the night creatures inevitably waiting on the other side of the sunset, ready to avenge their slain Goddess.

Present Day

“You probably shouldn’t be here right now.”

“I wanted to come,” Lucas replies, taking your hand is his large one. “I wanted to see you.”

“I can figure that.” You laugh quietly, a little afraid to let your voice rise higher in case it carries too far. “But that doesn’t mean you should’ve come.”

Lucas holds your hand tightly. His skin is cold against yours due to his slow blood, and colder still from the chill permeating the air. It’s only one of many vampiric traits that the other fairies would think of as strange or barbaric, but you don’t see it that way. The chilliness just reminds you solely of him.

“Well, I missed you. And I’m here now, so you’ll just have to deal with me.”

The building you’re standing behind is damp, old, and dilapidated, and it’s not even one of your pre-designated meeting places. In front of you is a rusted chain link fence, which barricades a field of tall and unkempt grass. More aged and crumbling buildings scatter themselves across the distance, taken over by grass and climbing vines.

You don’t know what’s out here. This is one place within your district you haven’t been to before. It was Lucas’s idea to come here, after your last meeting place had nearly been discovered and he found it too risky to keep going there.

The entire city of Beijing is split up into different districts, each belonging to a different faction of supernatural beings. Some nonhuman races have close ties with each other and allow frequent cross-district mingling; others are sworn enemies, forbidden to fraternize with each other under pain of death. In these latter cases, crossing into another’s territory without express permission—or in rare situations, ties to a powerful ally (or allies) on the other side—is asking to get arrested, injured, or worse.

Lucas would be your tie to the vampire side and you his tie to the fairy side if your species weren’t centuries-long enemies. Instead, you’re relegated to having him sneak in and out of your district and hide what he is with blood-scent blockers and eye contacts to make the trickery easier to get away with. There’s only so much you can do to disguise your fae nature; stepping into vampire territory would turn you into a shining beacon.

“Hmm…” you sigh, shaking your head with a small smile on your face. You grasp Lucas’s hand so you’re now holding it with both of yours. “How long do you think we can keep this up? Going from place to place like this. Hiding like criminals.”

Lucas gives a lopsided grin—one that cannot morph into a full smile because of the sadness coloring it. “I don’t know. Forever, if we’re lucky.” He chuckles.

You stare at your intertwined hands, unaware of the sheer intensity of the longing expression on your face, though Lucas sees it clearly. It threatens to burn his heart to ash. “Unfortunately, fae don’t live forever like you do, so maybe not. Besides, your people would probably find out and come after me before we could even settle into a ‘forever.’”

He shakes his head fretfully at your words, squeezing your hand. “Do we have to talk about all that now? You know we don’t have much time together. Let’s just enjoy it for what it is.” Lucas pulls you into him, tucking your head into his shoulder.

“That’s fine by me,” you say, and resist the urge to make some dark joke about how scandalous it is for a fairy to have their neck so close to a vampire’s mouth—or a vampire’s anything.

You both stay together in that dingy and old spot for a while, talking in the dark until he tells you he has to go. He follows you the whole way back home to ensure you’re safe, keeping to the shadows until he sees you disappear past your front door. Then, he slips away again to head back to the familiar manor in his own district.

It’s nearly morning when Lucas gets back to the large house he shares with the other six men. By this time of day, he knows they will either be in bed or getting ready to turn in.

“Still visiting that fairy, I see.”

The unexpected voice doesn’t scare Lucas, but it does make his body tense up a bit in irritation and a slight sense of anticipation. He sighs and stops in his tracks on the way to his room, though he doesn’t face the clan leader just yet.

“Is that a problem? Because you know I’m not going to stop.”

Kun makes a noise of disbelief. “Of course it is. You know what the consequences are if anyone outside of us finds out.” Lucas turns to him slightly, and the look on Kun’s face is more disappointment—maybe even slight fear?—than anger. “I clearly can’t stop you from doing what you want to, but I can’t help you if the Association gets involved.”

Lucas rocks back on his heels and sighs, rolling his eyes at the mention of the vampire organization. “Fuck the Association. They’re nothing but a bunch of old ass hags who have no purpose in their lives other than ruling over every other vampire in the world.”

Kun looks weary at his words. “You really don’t care, do you, Xuxi. They’d have your heart on a stake if they ever heard that.” He pauses and rolls his eyes. “They’re also not that much older than me, so I wonder who you’re calling an ‘old ass hag’...”

“Isn’t it a good thing that they won’t hear it, then?” Lucas laughs, but it’s not an entirely humorous sound, and he gives Kun a searching look as his chuckles die off.

“Don’t look at me like that. I have no interest in telling them anything, mostly because I also have no interest in our whole clan being wiped out.”

Lucas nods, reaffirming his somewhat shaky but still present trust in Kun, needing the regular reassurances for his own calm. He stretches his arms above his head and takes a few steps like he’ll go to his room, though he doesn’t move to leave just yet. “Just don’t see what the big deal about all this is. All this over some ancient bloodsucker who died like 500 years ago...who cares.”

Kun winces again, though he doesn’t bother with reprimanding Lucas this time; he only shakes his head and sighs heavily like it’s already a lost cause. “A vampire and a fairy together is more than blasphemy—it’s ridiculous. It’s illogical. They all think we’re bloodsucking demons hellbent on killing them.”

“To be fair, there’s definitely a sect of vampire zealots or two who are trying to do exactly that despite the laws.”

Kun sighs. Lucas is right; what can he say to argue that? “Xuxi…”

“I’m telling you I’ll be fine, Kun-ge. You don’t need to worry about me and Y/N. Things have been going fine for this long.” Lucas nods, then heads off to his room for real this time. Kun watches him leave, feeling a lot less reassured than the younger man.

Ten takes Xiaojun and Lucas on one of their weekly outings to a blood lounge. Blood lounges are an easy and accessible way for vampires to get blood, though the legalities of this practice are a little muddy. Before getting with you, Lucas didn’t mind drinking straight from the source—going to one of the back rooms and sucking some willing, vulnerable being just to the point of death—but now, it feels like a type of transgression. Drinking someone else’s blood can be an intensely intimate act, on the same level as sex depending on the context, and he doesn’t want to do anything to make you think he’d be unfaithful.

To his fortune, there is no club rule about having to feed off other beings; many vampires take their blood in fancy champagne glasses, just like drinks in a human club. He does that now as the three men sit in a darkly lit booth.

Their conversation is unexciting for a while, with Lucas keeping careful not to mention you or any of his recent visits to your district to avoid any prying ears in the lounge. However, things soon get interesting. “We all know how Renjun got taken off the Association’s Registry a year ago, right?” Ten asks suddenly.

“Yes, of course.” Xiaojun answers like he’s already bored of this turn in the conversation. “That’s what happens whenever a vampire dies.”

Ten nods, but his eyes are wide like he has a secret he’s itching to tell. “But I don’t think he actually died.”

Lucas’s ears perk up at that.

“Why?” Xiaojun asks.

“He was seeing that human before he supposedly died, you know—”

“The one who lost it and drove the stake in his heart? We all know how it happened—”

“Can you let me finish? Anyway, I’ve heard some...suggestions that he faked his death—that maybe he got a magic user to set the whole crime scene up and make it look like it was real. Illusory magic, or something like that.”

Xiaojun sits forward. “A magic user. As in a fairy? Or a witch? Who?”

“I don’t know, just someone who uses magic. People are starting to think he and the human faked it all and ran away to Tianjin. I heard someone even claimed they saw somebody who resembled him when they went to Tianjin recently, though I don’t know how true that is…”

Xiaojun’s interest is thoroughly engaged now. “Think the Association will go looking for him, if it's true?”

“I don’t know if they’d care enough to hunt down an unregistered vampire who’s laying low and not creating chaos with other citizens. We all know Tianjin is way more relaxed about inter-species relationships, too. But the Association doesn’t like looking stupid. And that kind of trick definitely makes them look stupid.”

Lucas sits back, taking all of this information in. He is uncharacteristically quiet, but he doesn’t know what to make of that situation or why Ten is telling them about it. He thinks he can guess why, though, by the way Ten’s gaze lingers on him, and that scares him a little. The way this rumor piques a forbidden interest in him scares him. Lucas lifts the glass of blood to his lips and drinks from it, trying to distract himself from the current conversation.

“All this for a damn human. Only an idiot would try something like that,” Xiaojun says, shaking his head.

“Maybe a smart one. It did get him off the Registry.”

“How can you be a smart idiot?!” Ten and Xiaojun start arguing over the semantics of the term, and Lucas watches them in amusement, though his mind remains in two different places for the rest of their time in the blood lounge.

—

Later that night when they are back at the manor, Lucas pulls Ten aside, just like the older man expected him to.

“What’s wrong?” Ten asks, though his expression shows he already knows exactly what’s the matter.

“You...the stuff you said about Renjun earlier. I…” Lucas doesn’t know how to start or break his idea to him softly, so he decides to just say it. “Is it really possible?”

“I think it’s possible. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to get off the Registry…though many other attempts were way less successful.” Then Ten hesitates before saying, “You could try it.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am.” Ten’s expression softens a little. “I know you and Y/N love each other a lot, but there’s no way the Association will ever let you stay together if they find out. Y/N’s life could actually be in danger. Both of you are, every moment you spend together while living in these districts. If you really want to stay with Y/N, then…”

“...But I wouldn’t be able to see any of you again.” You and Lucas have become so entwined with one another that he can hardly imagine a life without you, but he also finds it difficult to picture his existence without his brothers. They’ve become like blood family to him over the last couple centuries.

“Yeah.” Ten sighs deeply, and although his reply is short, Lucas knows that one word is carrying the weight of all of his stress and sorrow about the idea. “Maybe we could find a way to visit you sometimes. Get the fairies or witches to do some of their magicky shit.” Ten laughs quietly. “But...it’s still just an idea. You don’t have to do it.”

Lucas shakes his head slowly. He wants to put the idea to bed and try to continue on with his life, managing his clandestine visits to your district when he can. But now that he knows of an alternative way, no matter how unreasonable or unbelievable it is, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget about it. “Kun-ge is going to kill you once he finds out this was your suggestion. You know that, right?”

Ten shrugs, and the sadness lifts momentarily in the curve of his lips. “He can try.”

The next time you and Lucas meet up, it’s in yet another different place under an ancient and mostly abandoned bridge. As a precaution, you stand together underneath the darkness of the bridge and stay out of sight, though there are few chances of anyone being around to see you in the first place.

He has to muster up the courage to tell you of his idea, unsure of how you’ll react or what you’ll think of it. It’s a lot to ask of you. Your kinships and friendships are not as extensive as his, only having a brother and two cousins left in the world, but he doesn’t know if he could ever ask you to leave them behind like this. Or if he could shake off the guilt that would remain from it.

“There might be a way for us to change things…” Lucas starts, skipping the build-up because he knows it would take him forever to think of something appropriate to say. “But I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Change things?” You glance at him curiously. You wish you could see the deep red of his irises, but they are hidden behind his brown contacts. “As in, with us?”

“Yes. So that maybe we wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore. Or at least...not sneak around as much as we do now.”

“What is it?” you ask. Despite yourself, your wings flutter against your back as wonder and excitement rise in your chest. You and Lucas have waxed poetic many times before about how you wish things could be different; and neither of you have ever been able to come up with a workable plan. But now, his claim that maybe something is possible has you dangerously curious.

“Taking myself off the Registry. I could basically just...disappear. The Association can’t harm what technically no longer exists.”

You stare at him in confusion. “But you can’t do that, right? Only under special circumstances…”

Lucas sees the question in your eyes and nods. “Right. Like if I die…” You flinch, shaking your head immediately. “...or pretend I’ve died.” This makes you pause, not expecting to hear something like that come from him.

“Pretend...you’ve died. Faking your own death?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but...there’s another vampire who we think has done it before. And...it worked. Supposedly.”

You shake your head again, but you turn the idea over in your mind. “How would you even do that? Someone would have to know you’re not really dead. That can’t be as easy as it sounds...”

Lucas swallows hard. “I know, it doesn’t, but maybe if we plan it right...I think we could pull this off. Some of the others...already know about it.” Only Ten, really, but that’ll inevitably change soon.

Your heart is hammering in your chest just thinking about this plan—the small, undefined plan that it is—and you’re unsure how to approach it. “If we leave under those circumstances, we can’t come back here to Beijing. Which means we won’t see anyone else again, our families and friends...”

“You understand that.” Lucas’s voice comes out strained.

You sigh, wringing your hands. “I do.”

Lucas hangs his head, closing his eyes tightly. “It’s too much to ask of you. We can just forget about this, really. I know sneaking around has been difficult, and I just—”

“I never said I wouldn’t agree to it,” you say softly, interrupting him before he can begin deriding himself about the idea.

Lucas’s head perks up again, and you both look at each other for a long moment. A cold night breeze flows through your clothes and rustles your wings, which remain tucked close against your back.

“Just think of it as leaving the nest, I guess,” you say, though there are tears welling in your eyes. “Growing up and making a life for ourselves. We can do that...right?”

Lucas bites his lip and closes his eyelids to stave off the tears trying to form in his own eyes. “Yeah. We can do that. Even if it’s a bit...unconventional.”

You nod hurriedly, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands before any more tears can make their way out. “If you really want to do this, then we need to visit my brother.”

—

Your brother is predictably not thrilled about the idea. He likes Lucas well enough, but he’s never been very good at hiding his skepticism about your relationship. Though he would never say this to you directly, he never expected your relationship to make it past a few months; and yet it’s been a year and a half since you and Lucas started seeing each other. Maybe he’d be glad about your relationship’s stability if your partner was anyone other than a vampire. Alas, he instead spends all his time stressing over whether either of you will be found out at any moment’s notice.

“You’re playing with fire,” your brother says as he sits down at his desk within his apothecary office. He shakes his head the entire time, but he rifles through his collection of books on magic anyway. If there is anyone who knows a potion or spell that could work for this scheme and would actually be willing to keep it all secret, it’s your brother.

“I know that, Aldriel.” You cross your arms, sighing impatiently at your brother’s continuous reprimands since you’ve stepped through his door. “That’s why we came to you. You’re one of the best magic wielders and potionists around.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. No need to blow smoke up my ass,” Aldriel replies, never one to let a moment to brag slip away. He continues flipping through his book fast enough to make the words on the pages blur, his brow creased with focus. He is paying attention to the words and pictures on the pages, though you also know him well enough to realize this is him trying to distract himself from the many thoughts that must be crowding his brain.

“Don’t be so worried about it,” you say, trying to speak against the lump that’s suddenly forming in your throat. “You’ve always complained about wanting me out of your hair, anyway.”

Aldriel pauses in flipping through his spell book to look directly at you now, his brows creased even further and his face creating a visage of bitter desperation. “Not like this.”

Sighing, you turn away from him and let him go back to his textbook, knowing you’d probably start to cry if you look at him any longer. And who knows what will happen once that begins.

You go back to Lucas, who is sitting in the other room with his face turned to the window. It is nighttime and the blinds are closed, so you know he’s not looking at anything in particular. His mind must be similarly preoccupied.

“You okay?” you ask, touching his arm.

“Fine,” he answers, though he doesn’t turn to you. He just grasps your hand where it slides down to his own, gripping your fingers tightly. “As fine as I can be in this situation, I guess.”

You sit down in front of Lucas on the floor’s intricately decorated rug, resting your head against his knee. “It’ll be okay.” You aren’t sure of the words when they leave your lips, but you have to believe in them or else all will be lost.

—

You both spend a few hours at Aldriel’s place. At one point, you try to prod Lucas into going back to his clan to avoid raising suspicions for being gone too long—you can just get the potion to him some other day—but he insists it’ll be easier for him to stay and receive the potion now.

Finally, in the hour before dawn, your brother’s door opens and he steps through. “It’s ready.”

Both you and Lucas come alert at that, and you step back into Aldriel’s apothecary to see what he’s developed.

“This is an advanced death glamor potion,” your brother says, holding up a small glass bottle. “It contains a magic incantation that will leave you dead for a week and only a week. Seven days. Your body will remain in perfect stasis, so there’s no risk of the regular side effects that come with death.”

“A week?” you repeat, nervousness coursing through your body. Lucas looks equally apprehensive, and he squeezes your hand tighter.

Aldriel nods, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “That should be enough time to take care of the funeral arrangements and make everyone else think you’ve passed.” He says the last bit while gesturing to Lucas. “I’m not super clear on how vampire funerary customs work, though, so—”

Lucas nods. “No, it’ll work. That’s enough time.”

Your brother’s mouth creases into a thin line. “Good.” He passes the vial to Lucas, makes an expression like he might say something else, and then shakes his head, glancing to you instead. “You plan to go to Tianjin, right?”

“That’s right,” you say quietly.

“You’ll need to find a place to stay, then, until you can get one of your own. And I think we both know exactly where that will be.”

The potion works just as Aldriel said it would. It’s hard to know whether to be dismayed or relieved about this, though the former emotion quickly wins out with everyone.

Lucas takes it a week after meeting with your brother and procuring all the necessary fake documents, claiming it’s best not to wait any longer for it. You feel apprehensive about doing it so soon; or maybe you just want to stall for a little while longer. By now the other five men in his clan all know, each with varying reactions to it but ultimately unable to do anything to change his mind—not even Kun.

On the night Lucas uses the potion, Kun makes one last ditch attempt at reasoning.

“You don’t need to go to this extreme,” the older man insists. Though his voice is cold and sharp and deceptively calm, his entire face is a picture of perfect anger. Everyone had already had their turns talking to Lucas alone and telling him what they needed him to hear—and now it’s just Kun left.

“It’s my decision,” Lucas says, keeping his voice steadier than he feels. “I want to be with Y/N. There is no other way.”

“You’re endangering the entire clan with this. You’d throw us all away for one person?” Kun’s eyes are red-rimmed, but not just from the rage; Lucas knows he’s been crying. Lucas shuts his own eyes, his forehead creasing as he presses the pads of his fingers to his temples.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Lucas shakes his head, knowing he is treading on very dangerous waters with what he’s about to say. As if the situation weren’t already contentious enough. “You closed yourself off to love a long time ago. After Jingyi died. You just wouldn’t know.”

The vivid red hue of anger bleeds into Kun’s irises at the mention of his late human lover, and he has to make a very concentrated effort not to reach for the younger’s neck. “How dare you speak of her.”

Lucas opens his eyes again and looks directly at his elder now. “You’ve let the Association run your life too much,” he says, though the words come out sounding a bit defeated. He’s not even sure why he invokes Kun’s lover now; maybe he is trying to make the split easier by provoking the other man into hating him. “You’ve let them beat it into you that love is not worth trying for. What did you gain from that, in the end? But more loneliness.”

Lucas gets the breath knocked from him when Kun slams him up against the wall, and the unpleasant sound of wood splintering strikes against his eardrums. A long vertical crack forms in the wood behind Lucas, but not wide enough to make the wall separate completely. Not using his full strength, then, Lucas thinks to himself.

Kun looks for all the world like he might kill Lucas then and there without the younger man ever needing to take a potion—just bite his heart right out. He crumples Lucas’s shirt in his hands, fisting the fabric tightly enough to create small rips in it. His irises are the color of newly spilled arterial blood, and alongside the red rimming of his eyes from his earlier crying, it makes for an agonizing sight—one that sears itself into the back of Lucas’s mind. It’s made even worse by the new tears spilling down the older man’s face.

He chokes out through the tears, “You cannot do this. I raised you. You would have me destroyed twice?”

Lucas wishes he could shut every one of his senses off right now, but he can only manage to shut his eyes, once again, against the pain in the other man’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Kun-ge.”

—

After that, Lucas goes back to his own room and sits on the bed for a long time, replaying the events in his head and growing colder with the realization of what he’s about to do. He stares at the small vial on his dresser until he can’t stare at it anymore, and then he downs it all at once. He looks at the vial with renewed interest as it actually disappears once the fluid is gone, the glass evaporating away in the palm of his hand like water droplets under the sun. No evidence.

Lying on his side, he stares at the wall across from his bed and waits for the spell to begin working. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually his vision begins to blur, almost so imperceptibly that it’s difficult to realize until he notices everything in his field of view is doubled, objects bleeding out of their lines like pictures drawn by a drunken artist—there’s a strange ringing in his ears too, a sound on the edge of his hearing but still present, and he doesn’t know what any of it means, or if this is how other beings feel when they are on the brink of death—it’s frightening, and he feels a momentary pang of sympathy for other nonhumans and humans alike who have no choice but to experience this terrible ordeal at the closing of their lives—

It’s harder to keep his eyes open now, so he closes them and lets all sounds and sensations fade out of his hearing—he only holds one last memory of you in his mind, of the soft and filmy texture of your wings underneath his fingertips, of you laughing whole-heartedly at something silly he’d said, and he joins his hands together in the universal symbol of prayer even as they grow weaker, hoping and praying even to his cursed vampire ancestor that this won’t be the very last memory of you—

—

“Yes, he has...most certainly departed from this world.” 

An Association council member known as Belial announces this to the room of men after doing a thorough check of Lucas’s body. His voice is distant and saddened. The texture of it is almost tangible, dragging everyone down with it like a physical thing—akin to a rock being dropped into a thin sheet. “Such a fledgling, too. Truly tragic and strange circumstances.” Belial stands beside the bed, shaking his head and looking down at the still form of the younger man as if he might discover an answer if he stares for long enough. “Was there no indication…?”

“He was probably exposed to bad blood,” Ten replies, his voice tense and quiet. Though Kun is clan leader, he doesn’t say anything at all, leaving all the dirty work of explaining the lie to Ten.

Belial’s gaze turns to Ten. He shifts his head slightly to turn his ear towards him, as if he didn’t understand what the other man said. “Bad...blood? As in death by blood weakness?”

The room feels like it’s been sucked of air once these words are spoken, and the younger men shift uncomfortably. Sicheng never lifts his gaze to look at Belial, though Yangyang’s eyes keep darting between Belial and Lucas on the bed like he’s waiting for something to happen. Hendery is just as anxious beside Yangyang, both of them passing uneasy energy between each other. Xiaojun’s face is still fixed into the same permanent frown it had been in since Lucas first told them of the plan. His eyes remain downcast and fixed on Lucas, silently asking Why did you have to be the idiot this time?

“Yes, blood weakness. He hadn’t drank as much blood as usual in the last few days...maybe he seemed a little restless...but we didn’t think it was unusual. He...didn’t seem sick.”

“Where would he have gotten bad blood from? We vampires always take such care…” Belial’s tone turns condescending, as if he could expect no better from a young vampire—someone not even wise enough to tell bad blood from uninfected blood. How could one let themselves be taken out of this world by such a fundamental, basic mistake? Kun curls his fingers into a fist at his side, though he quickly remembers himself and tries to let them relax.

“The blood lounge,” Hendery blurts out. Every eye turns to him now, and Ten’s mouth thins into an agitated line. This isn’t what they agreed on. “M-maybe it was spoiled blood from the blood lounge. It had to be. He’s more careful than that…”

Belial’s eyes are whirling with so many emotions that it’s hard to pin any singular one down. “Serving bad blood, with or without knowledge of it, is an incredible offense within any vampire district. In that case, the establishment must be shut down—after an exhaustive investigation, of course.” This statement causes more discomfort among the gathered men, almost too much of it to be properly concealed.

“I think that won’t be necessary,” Kun interjects quietly. Belial looks at him with an expression that reeks of offense, and Kun returns the stare, glaring straight into the elder vampire’s eyes. “He died of blood weakness, most likely from drinking from some disease-ridden human. Even though he used the blood lounge and blood bags, he was in the habit of getting outside blood on occasion. It was a moment of poor judgment that cost him his life...and nothing more than that.”

A tense silence stretches over the room, and Belial’s eyes still don’t leave Kun’s. The other men remain statue-still, waiting to see what will happen—if it will work—until Belial says, “Yes. Of course. I’ll file his passing with the Keepers of the Registry, as protocol states.”

The other men stay quiet and motionless until Belial departs from their house.

“You used your compulsion on a council member,” says Yangyang, and even his voice is trembling when he speaks.

“I didn’t think that was possible,” Xiaojun notes, though his tone is more irritated than awed. “They’re all so much more advanced.”

That action obviously didn’t come for free, though, because Kun is holding his head like it hurts, turning away from the rest of them. “Such recklessness is not my style. Primitiva help us all. We’re all dead if we’re found out.”

“Why did you say that,” Sicheng deadpans, his words directed to Hendery. Even though Sicheng hasn’t said or done anything since stepping into the room, he looks thoroughly exhausted. “You almost gave us away.”

Hendery holds himself up on the bed as if he’ll collapse, his body bent with all the weight of their lies. He makes a motion like he might sit on the bed before remembering it’s where Lucas’s body is resting, and he straightens himself with some effort. “I...but he was thinking badly of Lucas. Like it was his fault.”

“It was,” Kun says faintly.

“You can’t let your emotions get the best of you right now. Just let me handle the talking.” Ten’s expression is stressed, and for a moment he starts to wonder if he should’ve ever said anything to Lucas at all.

Xiaojun shakes his head. “For now, there is a lot more we need to do than just talking.”

Vampire funerary procedures are much different from what many other supernatural races are used to—even blasphemous to some. Everything is handled at the home of the deceased instead of a funeral home or mortuary, in keeping with the tradition of honoring one’s vampire ancestors—and ultimately, the Primitiva Vampire. After the Primitiva’s gruesome death hundreds of years ago, all that had been left was her ashes once the fire burned out, but her followers still gave the remains a proper processing and burial.

The men dress Lucas in one of his nicest suits and perform all the necessary actions that would be involved at a funerary home, including preparing the casket. All of them help throughout this process as tradition dictates, though it is more difficult than any of them expected it to be. (No one even makes a dark joke about you’ll have to do this for me when I’m gone, which speaks to their inner turmoil.)

The viewing is equally challenging to get through, if not more.

Many of their vampire friends and acquaintances attend, including various members of the Association. Everyone seems to buy the blood weakness lie perfectly, which means Kun’s compulsion worked as it should have. That knowledge does very little to relax any of them in the grand scheme of things, though.

Though they know Lucas is not really gone, the sight of him lying there in that dark coffin with other vampires looking sadly down at his still face and dabbing their tears away is deeply frightening.

The night of the viewing goes by at a glacial pace, and every other night after that up until the funeral passes even more slowly, like time itself has dropped its speed to prolong the torment.

When the last few straggling visitors for the viewing are gone, the men go their separate ways to try to deal with the not-so-small trauma of the day’s events. Kun goes up to one of the manor’s several wide balconies, one that they’ve all used as a familiar hangout spot or simply a place to unwind over the years. The sun will not rise for another forty-five minutes or so, giving him enough time to sit and think before it becomes unsafe. He is not very surprised when he finds Ten already there, though he decides not to leave.

“You stopped smoking three decades ago,” Kun comments, waving his hand in a pitiful attempt to clear out the smell of smoke filling the air. There’s no hint of teasing or personality in his voice, only hollowness and exhaustion. He sits beside the other man in one of the chairs sat outside. “Where did you even get cigarettes from?”

“Don’t worry about me. This is just for the nerves.”

“Why would I worry, it’s not like you can—” Kun pauses before saying the word they both know, realizing it hits far too close to home right now. Silence falls between them until Kun asks, “Do you actually believe this will be worth it?”

“It will. We’ve worked too hard for it not to be.” Ten takes a drag from his cigarette. “We’re giving them a second chance. Isn’t that something to feel good about?”

“A second chance. How interesting.”

“Everyone deserves one.” Ten glances at Kun from the corners of his eyes and doesn’t say anything more, but Kun already knows what he’s vaguely implying.

“And yet everyone doesn’t get one.”

“All the more reason to take the opportunity when it becomes possible.”

Kun doesn’t reply to that. Ten places a hand on his shoulder, but the older man meets this with little regard as he rises from his seat and walks away at a sluggish pace.

You stand in the train station ready to buy a ticket, clutching documents falsifying your identity and feeling more terrified than you possibly ever have. Today marks the seventh day, and you don’t even know if Lucas is alive right now. It was too risky to have any of the other clan members contact you—not until you and Lucas meet up in the designated place. You know Aldriel is an excellent potion master, and if he says the spell will work as intended then it will, but there’s always that seed of doubt.

Your parting with Aldriel had been typical of your relationship with him—you crumbling before him and him pretending like he was fine, lending enough strength for the both of you to survive on, though you knew he was also bleeding from the heart.

“You better not forget about me,” you’d told him, smushing your face into the sleeve of his shirt to hide your tears, though there was no stopping the flow. It was staining his shirt sleeve right through.

He’d scoffed at you, though it was a watery sound. “I couldn’t if I wanted to.” He’d held your head closer against his shoulder, the both of you glued together in whichever way seemed fit when you’d walked through his door one last time to say goodbye. “We’ll see each other again. Don’t worry.”

You’d lifted your head from his shoulder then, looking at him with an aggrieved expression. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Aldriel put his hand on top of your head, petting you like a small puppy. It was a thing you’d disliked since you were both children, but which only made your heart hurt even more now. “Have more faith in me than that, dear sister. You’ll see.”

When it’s your turn to get a ticket, you step up to the counter and hand over your information, trying to keep the shaking in your hands to a minimum. The teller behind the counter is also a fairy, their wings tucked against the back of their uniform but peeking out at the sides. You childishly try to take some solace in that, hoping there will be some solidarity between you two. Maybe they’ll be less critical of your legitimacy than any other being might be.

The process is scarily easier than you’d thought it would be, though you are sweating the entire time. A fake name and birth date, and no one suspected anything. All of this would have to be your new identity now if you were to live with Lucas in Tianjin without being discovered.

Getting on the train when it comes is only part of the long journey ahead. It doesn’t provide you with much relief, but you are at least thankful to have one segment of that journey complete.

—

It takes another cab to get to your destination once you’re off the train, but you soon arrive at the house of one of Aldriel’s friends and his similar-name twin—Raziel. Raziel was Aldriel’s most trusted and oldest friend, their woven history extending back to childhood. The three of you had grown up together, and you’d even been quite familiar with Raziel until they left for Tianjin some years ago. Now, you’re back in front of each other again under circumstances that you never could’ve guessed.

“You’re here. Good.” Raziel welcomes you into their house with open arms, tugging you into a jittery hug that you anxiously return.

“Have...you heard anything?” you ask, though you know it’s futile. Raziel wouldn’t have gotten any more information than you have, not until Lucas was standing right on their doorstep. They shake their head and give you a sympathetic look, patting your hands.

“He’ll be alright. Everything will go well. I believe it.” Raziel guides you further into their house, presumably towards the room you’ll be staying in while you’re there. “It’s all so romantic, though—even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. I hope you know you’re doing a good thing, in the end.”

You force your facial muscles into a smile, though it is a ghostly and fleeting one. “Thank you.”

Either way, you will have to wait until nighttime to know if Raziel’s words come true or not; the sun is still high in the sky. It’s only midday. You’ve never before hated the sunlight, but right now you curse the sun’s rays that elongate the time between you and your lover.

—

“You all, give him some damn space,” Ten says, trying to pull the younger vampires away so they won’t crowd around the coffin. “He doesn’t need the scare of his life looking at all your faces when he wakes up.” Despite trying his best to be the voice of reason, Ten also has to refuse the urge to station himself beside the coffin and watch for the slightest movement of eyelids, the tiniest twitch of the lips. His hands shake from the frayed nerves of a week of nothing but death and gloom, and even though he doesn’t need to sleep, he thinks he will be out for at least two days after all of this is over.

There is no set time, no designated signal for when—or the dreaded if—Lucas will awaken. The waiting game feels longer than it really is, especially with the hours until the funeral commences steadily counting down. However, it is not very long before there’s a big sucking breath coming from the coffin, the sudden sound of lungs being filled after a week of complete stillness. Everyone rushes back to the bier when this happens, peering wildly inside the coffin.

Lucas’s eyelids flutter for an eternity before shooting open. He immediately seems distressed upon waking, sitting up out of the coffin so quick that it stutters on its stand, and the others have to steady it before it tips over.

“Xuxi...are you okay?” Sicheng asks, voice hushed with nervousness. Despite his unending anger and distress about the situation, Kun has also crowded in to witness Lucas’s awakening, and he visibly sags with relief to see the younger man is at last awake.

The look in Lucas’s eyes is wild. They are momentarily afraid that maybe something has gone wrong with the potion—maybe it has affected his mind somehow and he doesn’t remember any of them— but then he says,

“Y/N. Is Y/N okay?”

“We don’t know,” Sicheng replies. “I mean, hopefully. But it was safer to not have so much cross-communication going on—you’ll have to go to the meeting spot to find out…”

Though the reasons for this make sense, this does not provide consolation. Lucas fumbles his way out of the coffin with the men’s help. It’s clear he’s still disoriented, which makes them even more nervous, if that’s possible at this point.

“You should drink some blood before you leave,” Hendery suggests, and everyone else agrees. Lucas won’t argue that, so he downs one of the blood bags they have stored until he feels a little more like himself.

“You have to go soon, the funeral is set to start in another hour—we’ll have to leave—” Yangyang warns him, though the words fade at the end of his sentence. He doesn’t know how to continue his thought or how to even begin saying goodbye.

Lucas fills that gap by steeling himself and saying his farewells to each of them in turn, though his eyes are troubled and his chin crumples like he might cry at any moment.

“Don’t say I never helped you out with anything,” Ten says, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. Being separated is painful, but it’ll ultimately serve its purpose of giving Lucas a chance at having a love that none of them could. After seeing Kun suffer the way he did after losing Jingyi, Ten wants to spare another one of his mates from dealing with the same fate.

When Lucas gets to Kun, there is a slight awkward silence and a swift exchange of glances—Lucas’s soft gaze butting up against Kun’s more solid one, which is simultaneously pleading to him and rebuking him for his actions. Still, Kun embraces him tightly enough that their bodies could join together.

“Xuxi…” Kun starts, “I don’t…” And then his words break, leaving an unspoken thought between them.

“One day, you’ll forgive me for this,” Lucas whispers to the older man. Kun gives him an endlessly hurt look in return, silently asking him how he could even conceive those words. When they separate from each other, it’s with much reluctance. Lucas looks at them all and nods once, his mouth tight with grief.

“Right. Time to go, then.”

—

You awake in the middle of the night to cool fingers on the side of your face, which startles you completely out of your sleep. Opening your eyes to an unfamiliar room scares you even more, and it takes you a moment to remember why your surroundings have changed. The knowledge comes back to you quickly when a large palm slips against your own, long fingers twining with yours.

“Xuxi,” you whisper quietly, the sound of his name hanging in the air like a prayer. One of the last few times you’ll be able to freely call him that, except in private.

You can’t see his figure well with all the lights turned out, but he had no problem navigating through the dark to reach your bedside. Wanting desperately to see his face, you fumble around for the bedside lamp switch before turning it on.

“Y/N…” Lucas’s face is suddenly illuminated to you in all its golden glory, a myriad of emotions flickering over his features.

“I didn’t even hear you come in,” you say breathlessly. You’re somewhat sad and wish you could’ve met him at the door, embraced him after his long trip, but it doesn’t much matter anymore because he’s here now.

“Poor Y/N. My baby must’ve been so tired.” Lucas bumps his forehead against yours, his whole body drooping with relief as he practically sinks into you, and you giggle a little as you complain about having to hold his weight up. There is a tingle behind your eyes that threatens to turn into a sudden burst of tears, but you try to hold them at bay for a while longer.

“Are we safe?” he whispers, needing your confirmation. “Raziel said so. But...are we really safe?”

“That’s frightening to even think about,” you reply quietly. “We can’t stay here too long, but for now…I think we will be.” Lucas nods without a word, still holding your hand. His blood-scent is completely absent, as it usually is when he’s around you, and you know he’s used the blockers. Soon, with the ability to go out together and not be arrested or threatened for it, that will not be necessary to disguise his vampirism anymore. “It...won’t be easy.”

“No, but the things we want out of life usually aren’t.”

You squeeze his hand. “Raziel will help take care of things for us. It won’t all be trials and tribulations. I hope.” More hesitantly, you ask him, “What was it like? Being dead?” You know that vampires, being once human, still have souls and an afterlife to go to like most other living beings.

The look on his face is worrying. He doesn’t meet your eyes; he only shakes his head and stares at your joined hands. “It was cold without you.” His lips pull into a weak and chapped smile, if only to quiet your worrying, but that doesn’t work as intended. You decide to leave it for now, figuring there will be more time to talk about it when he feels ready.

Turning the light back off, you both press your bodies together as close as they can physically get, Lucas’s head on your chest and his long legs all jumbled together with yours. You fall asleep before he does, lulled away by his comforting and safe presence. He stays awake for a while longer, staring into the dark and the dark staring back into him, before everything else falls away.

[emerald-amidst-gold]

WIP Wednesday

Guess what, guys? IT’S WEDNESDAY! >:D You know what that means~!

TIME TO SHARE!

I’m excited because I finally, finally found the inspiration and motivation to write chapter 13 of my main fic! And I used the good old, ‘And he returned...’ technique! X’D

Time to talk about mages and templars everybody!

“Ma halla,” Cyfrin’s voice came forward, laced with tiredness and unusually serious as his eyes fell upon his sister, “the Chantry has not had control over either side for years. If they had, the Chantry in Kirkwall wouldn't have met the fate that it did.” He picked up the stick they had been using to tend the fire, giving the logs a gentle poke and sending sizzling embers upwards, “Now, it is merely a war of endurance; who can last the longest and who can end it with the most spite, the most damage. Blood will run for many moons as it has for several years now. Except this time, light is being shone on those crimson puddles rather than being mopped up with a," A finger rose to slender lips, a pantomime of silence and secrecy.

Fane sighed, grimacing a bit when Mhairi shifted against his side and watching those embers rise and then blink out of existence. Cyfrin was right. This was a war without end, and each side was merely swinging at whatever happened to move now. Power corrupted, and it had done so in this instance; mages overwhelmed by the taste of air, magic responding with giddy excitement; templars breaking the chains that held their hands and feet in place, as well as their swords. Both had never known what it meant to be free, and now that they had it in aces, they couldn’t cope with it.  All the common folk, them included, could do was wait it out, like a parent waiting for their child, who refused to listen, to settle down. That was all there was to it.

Fane slowly rubbed his palms together, wringing his fingers a bit as he spoke, “Whatever it is now, it doesn’t matter. It’s a mess made for a different rag,” With a tired movement, he let his head roll to the side a bit to rest atop his sister’s, relishing in its silkiness. To think, he had almost abandoned that comfort for fear. He continued with another sigh, “All that matters is staying away from it. It isn’t our fight; it never has been.”

Silence passed between them all after his words had fallen, the crackling of the fire and the drone of crickets and cicadas the only sounds to fill the air. Cyfrin only gave him a nod that said, 'I agree' before going back to idly poking at the fire. However, Fane could feel something like a tense ripple from Mhairi, her body suddenly rigid where it rested against him.

Shit, Fane thought, growling a bit as he recognized this rolling wave exuding off Mhairi. He should have kept his mouth shut.

A few more moments of silence passed before the words he had been dreadfully waiting for passed lips gingerly being bitten into.

"Is it really not our fight, though?," Mhairi asked in a sheepish whisper. Fane watched from over his nose as delicate hands appeared from under fur and cotton, pink with Fereldan chill and palms up, "Or at least, my fight? I mean, I'm a mage, so really--"

"Mhairi," Fane cut off his sister's words, voice dropping low in warning, "Whatever's going through your head right now, end it."

Fane caught the flicker of amber from across the way, their owner knowing where this was going as much as he did, but he was more focused on ice as it hardened before him. He was not going to entertain this ridiculous train of thought! Was his sister mad!?

"But, brother--!"

"Enough," Fane snapped with a harshness he rarely used with her, "Do you want a templar on your heels!? Do you want to be silenced again!?"

Nostrils flared as he brandished a glare downwards, but his irritation cooled as Mhairi's icy gaze melted and turned downwards, guilt and pain in turquoise. Fane frowned deeply at that. Shit, he hadn't meant to…! Damn it all! This was why he should have left on his own! All he did was pull down, down, down! He could never find the right words!

"Of course I don't want those things, brother. You know that," Mhairi said with tightness, voice like a taut cord before letting out a tiny sigh, down-turned eyes staring pointedly at her hands--the tools for which another tool could be wielded in, "It just...feels wrong to turn away and let not only the mages and templars suffer, but innocent people, too. The people on farms and in villages didn't ask to be involved, but they are." A gentle blue glow enshrouded slender fingers and smooth palms, making Fane's nose twitch in irritation and his stomach roll uncomfortably, but he watched it same as her, "I guess I just want to help them, to show them that it doesn't have to end in flames. Magic is beautiful, and it hurts to know no one but the Dalish recognize that."

Fane listened, rapt and attentive even though he knew his face showed otherwise. Mhairi had vocalized these thoughts before to him, and while he understood where she was coming from, that still didn't mean this was their fight. What was there to gain from throwing themselves into the pan? Nothing but an early grave, that's what. Or worse yet, tranquility. The very idea of that happening to his sister made him sick. How such a practice came to be was beyond him, and yet, it made his mind prickle and pull with those odd feelings of ‘wrongness’. Obviously, stripping a person of their emotions was vile and grotesque and disgusting, but it felt like something more to him. It always felt like more with so little.

Fane let out a long sigh through his nose at himself and his sister, the air condensing in front of him, "It's not your job to present that to the world, Mhairi." He shifted a bit, the fur lining of his cloak brushing against the bottom of his cheeks as he did so. He was starting to get warm, uncomfortably warm.

"Isn't it?," his sister forwarded, pressed, pushed, sparkling eyes slowly rolling upwards to look at him; the glow of her hands fading away to let firelight take center stage again, "I’m a--”

Fane growled, his chest rattling from the depth of it. “Yes, you’re a mage, My, but that’s more likely to get you killed, or worse, made tranquil than understood,” He met her slowly narrowing gaze unflinchingly before sighing tiredly, shoulders slumping and voice softening at the look of hurt in icy blue, “Listen: stop chasing after trouble. No good can come from involving yourself in this mess,” His tired eyes shifted to the fire once more, watching it dance and consume both air and forest wood, “This continent is engulfed in war, and it’s not your job to fix the mistakes of others just because of what you are. That type of blind thinking is exactly why all that’s happened, happened.”

He felt his fists ball up against where his hands were resting between his thighs from anxiety and frustration, the skin along his arms pinching to where he could finally feel his scars start to act up. Great. Just what he needed alongside all this ridiculousness. Why did his sister always have to play this card? Yes, she was a mage, but there were a thousand more who could, but wouldn’t do what his sister wished to. And why? Because they knew it was pointless as narrow perspectives were set in the stone of ages.

Time and time again mages had tried and failed to show the world the intended use for magic. Time and time again restrictions were set ever tighter because of those harmless displays, the Chantry crying, ‘Demon, demon! Blood magic, blood magic!’, and a single, single show of defense against such accusations was treated as a literal felony. Now, the Fade touched were doing the only thing they could think to do after so many disappointments; fight. A caged animal was bound to break the door holding it back, and that was exactly what had happened to every Circle; they broke.

They went silent, voices stolen straight from their throats, emotions ripped away so as to be unable to defend themselves any longer, and the beauty his sister desperately wished to show no longer relevant as it had no place in war, in a world where beauty was a stranger. Fane didn’t have much allegiance to either side, both were foolish and pathetic and tiring, and despite his personal experience with magic, he didn’t detest it. It had its uses, just not on him and that was because he didn’t relish getting uncontrollably ill. He was open minded enough to know magic hadn’t been the true culprit, it had only been like the innocents in this pointless war; used against its will. It had been the blade that carved the stone of his body, but it hadn’t been the hand to wield it.

So, he would admit he felt sorry for the endlessly warring factions, even the templars despite his personal feelings regarding them. To be played like a fiddle by a bunch of tottering zealots, zealots that used ‘faith’ as their bargaining chip to garner influence and power while declaring, ‘It is the Maker’s will’. Sadly, despite how thin the veil of deceit was, the people fell for it like raindrops during a heavy downpour, fast and hard. Was it the humans’ ‘god’s’ will to rip away independent thought? To sunder the minds of those who broke the leash long having held them back?

To indiscriminately kill another on the basis of ‘you’re a mage’ or ‘you’re a templar’ or ‘you’re a threat to our power’? Apparently so. Tragic, but there was nothing to be done about it now and Mhairi needed to understand that.

She needed to understand there was no ‘beauty’ in war.

Mhairi let out a disgruntled huff before her form shifted away from him to sit up. Fane squeezed his already tight fists tighter, the leather of his gloves creaking from the force as he watched his sister rise up from the log, her action calm, but her eyes and face held frustration in delicate edges and firelit ice. He felt his expression go hard as he sat up straight, silently mourning the loss of momentary comfort. Again, he should have kept his mouth shut. Why did he even try using words?

“I think I can see perfectly well, brother. I saw the corpses mutilated beyond recognition, the burnt buildings and the sacked ones, the people crying over what they lost, children wailing as their parents wouldn’t wake up. I saw,” Mhairi said, lilt strained and lips twitching with the urge to bend downwards as a forlorn mutter came after, “I wish you would stop treating me like I don’t, like a child.”

With that, Fane watched his sister quickly stride away towards where they had pitched tents, darkened cloak fluttering behind her and kicking up the dusting of snow with her partially bare feet. It was only when Mhairi completely disappeared from his sight, safely burrowing into her tent, did he let out a sigh, the exhalation hard and long.

“Damn it all,” Fane cursed out under his breath, bringing hand out and up from his cloak to rub at his face. He felt ten years older all of a sudden. Scratch that, a thousand years older. How much older could he potentially feel at this rate?

“Tactful as always, ma falon.”

----

Fane can be incredibly harsh, and a downright jerk sometimes. He doesn’t mince words or give platitudes. He says it how he sees it. 

Tagging: @noire-pandora @oxygenforthewicked @varric-tethras-editor @dreadfutures @the-dreadful-canine @drag-on-age @a-drama-addict @little-lightning-lavellan @whataboutbugs @blueheaded @aymayzing @rosella-writes @1000generations and anyone else that’d like to share! (no pressure! <3)

[floaroanemoia]

{Biography}

About page

     She is born Sarana Letova, the first and only child of two Wyrdeer herders within the Floaro-Eterna area of Hisui. A girl, young and hopeful, surrounded by forests, great and small, so close to one another, and shrubbery reaching her ankles in shades from the deepest of greens, to one not unlike fire contrasted against the night sky. Enamoured by the beautiful world around her, taught to live with the cold and ice, and the few pokemon that still hung around.

      That is, of course, until the years caught up with her.

      Stories of grand meadows and forests turned to sorrowful recounts of times when the land had been alive, but none in either community were old enough to have ever experienced. Eyes opened, and the forests became mere survivors of a mass culling by some, unknown force—the remnants of an amazing landscape. Shrubs green were lucky, while brown and red were dying a most painful, prolonged death. Spring never came. Despite the beliefs they hold so dear, Shaymin never appeared; flowers never covered their home—or any land outside of it now, for that matter. The last autumn had been a sign of what was to come; the last chance for flora to peacefully accept their fate.

     They live in a perpetual state of winter and ice. Where the ground has frozen over, and lays harder than the rocks composing the sacred Mt Coronet. Where strong winds push the snowfall and chill whatever dares to exist on its empty plains to their very core. Pokemon were fleeing, or succumbing to the harsh conditions. No-one here lived with the cold, they lived despite it.

     Even when outside powers deemed it too dangerous to tread through, they refused to leave, adamant that a solution could be found. And so, the families split—into individuals, factions and groups--, to search the lands of Hisui, bring back the seeds of other flourishing flora, and see if they might still be able to grow, and where. But nothing worked. The slowing of time in Eterna forest, given its name for the blessing conferred upon it with the aid of a certain clan, had only been a temporary solution from hundreds of years ago. The next, from the opposing clan, had only slowed it more. Yet it all was still dying—each year, more plants withered away, their leaves and branches akin to skeletal remains left upon the surface.

     And so, the communities came together once more, and decided there was but one solution left—to find Shaymin, the deities of spring and daughters to that in charge of life, and plead for them to help their dying home. A decision made when Sarana had been only the age of sixteen, and the day that marked her ventures off into the icy plains on her lonesome, with only a Ponyta beside her. And she holds the goal dear, closer to her heart than almost anything else. A human who would travel the lands in search for the creature, but merely stumble across collections of ghost-type pokemon. Who would befriend them in the absence of other people, and have such bonds give rise to a blessing—the ability to perceive the deceased. A power bestowed upon her to aid her mission.

     And she would find Shaymin—no matter the cost. No matter if the knowledge of the alive or dead had to be used.

[demonologist-in-denim]

What if in earlier seasons, Crowley was written as an amiable ally for the boys, rather than them disliking him. Imagine Crowley being established as “not as bad as other demons” in the Winchester’s eyes, as a semi-reluctant ally who – yeah, on occasion, puts his own interests first, but never directly threatens and even occasionally helps the boys. He’s still snarky, and he can still be an arse. But the boys know that as long as they don’t cross him, Crowley won’t mess with them. From Crowley’s end, that’s because keeping good relations with the infamous Winchester brothers is to his benefit. But then, they start to grow on him. And maybe he’s a little more lenient with the flannelled nightmares than he should be, a little indulgent, rolls his eyes and does a few favors for them. Which only further encourages the Winchesters, and later a less willing Castiel, to view him as a frenemy.

The rest of the early seasons is the same, except now, moving into season 6, the boys are willingly working with Crowley and Cas. They don’t like the idea of opening up Purgatory, but they understand that Hell and Heaven really do need to be taken in hand – and who else are they going to trust to do that? As things start to look really dark throughout that season, the boys start pushing back, start testing their relationship with both angel and demon, and Cas still betrays all of them and takes the souls for himself. And now there’s season 7, with Crowley working with the boys to stop Cas – Dean wanting to save him from himself, Sam and Crowley unhappily planning to kill the angel – Sam because he doesn’t think Cas can be saved, and Crowley because he wants his share of the Purgatory power. Unleash the Leviathans, and now we’ve got the King of Hell working closely and willingly with the boys to stop this new threat. Demons at their disposal, even. Which doesn’t put Crowley in a very good position in Hell, but he pushes on because it’s this or let the Leviathans eat the world. The Winchesters plus Crowley and a now restored Castiel manage to defeat the Leviathans, just as the demons rise up and dethrone Crowley. Hell is a free-for-all, and demons are loose in the world.

Then have all of season 8 be about demon in-fighting and the human casualties along the way. The boys work to get Crowley back on the throne, so he can restore some order. But that also means he’s temporarily dependent on them, in hiding with them from his former minions. Leads them to the Men of Letters legacy, which in turn leads to the bunker. Bring the British Men of Letters back in seasons earlier, alerted to the awakening of one of their old establishments in the States. Throw Abaddon into the mix, providing a competitor for Crowley laying claim to the throne, which would make him more susceptible to the help offered by the Winchesters, and unfortunately to the supposed support of the BMoL as well. By now, Crowley’s an unofficial member of Team Free Will, the boys well aware he chose saving the world (and them) over giving his full attention to Hell, leading to all this. There’s the sense that the four of them – plus Kevin and Charlie, at this point – are all in it together. Maybe even Meg is still around, maybe she’s trying to lead one of the demonic factions, and there is this whole I-care-about-you-but-we’re-on-opposite-sides between her and Cas. Crowley has softened, the same way Cas softened over time with exposure to humanity and the Winchesters.

Of course the tablets and Kevin came into play with the Leviathans. The BMoL reveal they have the demon tablet, and suggest Kevin might be able to find something on it to control demonkind and restore Hell. Big dramatic reveal to the Winchesters only, the BMoL admit that there is a means of closing the Gates of Hell permanently on the tablet – learned from a previous prophet whom, ahem, did not survive their duty – and now the Winchesters are torn between sparing the world from demons and betraying Crowley. Crowley, who is counting on them to help him get his throne back. Crowley who has begrudgingly and then more willingly worked cases with them while they’ve tried to find an answer to all of this. Crowley who led them to the MoL and the bunker in the first place. Who isn’t as bad as the rest of his kind, who Dean likes to go for a drink with and might even consider a friend. And just as the Winchesters decide they can find another way to close the Gates, Kevin discovers the necessary spell, and the BMoLs take advantage that there is a demon close at hand, and snatch Crowley to perform the demon trials.

And by the time the Winchesters race to his rescue – torn, because ending the trial means not closing the Gates, but damn it, he’s had their backs, so they’re going to have his – Crowley is in the last hour of the cure. Tells them to let it happen, let the trial be complete, the Gates slammed shut. His own soul restored. But there’s that whole thing with Metatron and Cas and the angels going on, so of course this is the moment the angels are cast out of Heaven. And Abaddon bursts in, maybe Meg comes to challenge her. And in all the chaos, the cure is never completed, time’s up, too late. The boys defeat the BMoLs, rescue Crowley, escape. Cas is lost somewhere in the world, human after what happened in Heaven.

Season 9 would be almost completely the same – Crowley’s blood addiction, searching for the Mark and the Blade, Abaddon, the angels, all of it – except, the Winchesters actually sympathize with Crowley. They express concern, ask after him, say maybe having regained something of his soul is a good thing. And Crowley is torn, because he can now really feel that affection he has for the boys, and he might very well have the option of a place among them, but also he knows Hell needs a ruler to keep demonkind in line, and he still likes power. The boys help him overthrow Abaddon, help him get clean of his blood addiction. Maybe there’s a scene where Crowley and Meg compare notes – he who went through the cure, and she who cares for an angel, neither of whom really fit with demonkind anymore. And by the time the season reaches the later episodes, with Crowley back on the throne and the boys working cases while trying to figure out what to do about Metatron, Crowley is an acknowledged, secret extension of Team Free Will. Makes changes to Hell, keeps demonkind under tight control, helps here and there on cases.

All of this, all of this headcanon, just to get to the point where the boys are always making side comments to Crowley about, you know, how if he wanted to give up Hell and join the three of them full time, he’d be welcome. Come on, just work one more case with us. Just this one about hellhounds. Just that one with vampires. Just one more, one more, one more. And Crowley acquiesces more than he knows he should. Cares about the boys and Cas more than he knows he should, hates Hell and demons more than he knows he should.

So that by the time the Mark takes Dean and turns him into a demon, it’s not only Sam and Cas that are hurt by it. It’s Crowley, too. Crowley who sees Dean turning into something truly evil, something worse than Crowley himself is now. And he agrees with Sam and Cas that he’ll take demon!Dean under his wing as his second-in-command in Hell until they find a cure, a cure for the Mark as much as for being a demon. Season 10 is all about Cas (who’s grace is fading) and Sam working to find a cure while working cases, and Crowley trying to keep Dean occupied with hunting down rebel demons and the like. He even sends the Knight of Hell after angels, to capture more grace for the fading Castiel. Throw Rowena – as Fergus’ ex-wife – in there, attempting to convince Crowley to share his throne with her, causing mischief. He would feel this deep sense of loneliness – demon!Dean isn’t the companion he was before the Mark, Rowena only wants power for herself ultimately, demonkind hates and is in open rebellion against him – and Crowley is beginning to admit to himself that he just doesn’t have this in him anymore, to be the kind of monster it takes to rule Hell. Maybe Dean even tries to take the throne from him, with Rowena’s help, and the acceptance by the demons of this alternative ruler is everything Crowley needs to finally break from old loyalties and the desire to rule, from demonkind entirely.

Realizing the situation is entirely out of control, Crowley, Cas and Sam work to capture Dean. They convince Rowena, who has now taken the throne of Hell for herself, to remove the Mark, thus removing a threat to her reign. Crowley makes an oath that if she will do this, he will never seek to retake the throne. An enraged demon!Dean is forced through the demon trials, in which he says the most horrible and hurtful things to Sam and Cas. And to Crowley, cuttingly demanding to know why the former king will put Dean through this, restore the hunter’s humanity, but not his own. Crowley doesn’t have an answer. He doesn’t have an answer because he realizes that, once, he would have said it was important he hold Hell, or that he wanted the power that came with being a demon, or that he was scared of facing what he’s done as a demon. In light of everything that has happened – the complete rejection by demonkind and the loss of Hell, the revulsion he feels after the aborted cure and Dean’s own time as a demon, and knowing he has a place here on Team Free Will – Crowley realizes he no longer has a reason not to complete the cure.

And in the last hour of the cure, with Dean almost entirely restored to himself, the hunter understands the demon better than ever before. Tells him, one of these days, it’s going to be Crowley in this chair, the cure coursing through him, the three of them gathered around him, supportive. And Crowley knows he’s right. It’s no longer a question of if – only when.

Once they’ve completed the demon cure, the boys set about removing the Mark, with Rowena’s help. And removing the Mark unleashes the Darkness in the world. In season 11, the Darkness should have been something much more insidious, and dangerous. A force which slithers into people, bolsters the innate darkness that is in everyone, turning people into their worst selves. And it controls demons utterly. They are mostly formed of the Darkness, after all.

And for Crowley and the cure, “when” is now. It is that, or fear turning on the people who used to teasingly ensnare him in “just one more case,” who would embrace him as one of them if only he’d allow it. And now, he’s finally ready for that.

[sevenstarsinning]

Invasion Ch. 8

Description:  A planet conquering race of Saiyans invaded Earth and deemed it worthy of habitation. After bringing the humans to their heels, they set up a new society where humans had one role, to serve. You found yourself in the unlucky faction of being bought and sold as a human pet. With absolutely no interest in owning a human but no way out of having one, Kakarot made a bid on you at the urging of his brother. It was only a matter of time before you were either killed or forced into obedience.

Warnings: Smut ahead!! NSFW.

You can find previous chapters in this link: Ch. 7  or you can read it on AO3

__________________________

You stirred as the sunlight peered in through the windows, moving slightly but freezing at the realization of being pressed against a firm body. You opened your eyes to see Kakarot nuzzled against your chest, snoring softly and his arm draped over you while his tail wrapped around your waist. You looked down at him and the softness of his features while he appeared to be completely relaxed. Your fingers itched to touch him, having uninterrupted access to him in the moment. A noise from down the hall sent a wave of panic through your chest.

“Kakarot-“ You shook him gently.

“Hm-“ He grunted as he squeezed you closer to him.

You kept your voice low as you heard another sound, “wake up, I think your parents are up.” It felt weird saying that and honestly reminded you of your late teens.

His eyes opened immediately as he sat up, unravelling himself from you. He leaned over and looked down the hallway, seeing Gine shuffling to the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

He turned back to you, “start breakfast?”

“Yeah.” You nodded your head.

Kakarot climbed off the couch and headed towards his room but stopped and strode back to you. He leaned down and tilted your chin up as he pressed his lips to yours quickly.

“Morning.” He said with a slight smirk.

Before you could respond he took off down the hall swiftly. You couldn’t explain what had changed in him over night, but he seemed to be more relaxed than before. He was different and it was comforting. You climbed off the couch and headed into the kitchen to start cooking breakfast for the family of saiyans. You cooked every egg you had in the refrigerator, three types of meat, and cooked more pancakes than you’d ever seen in your life.

“Smells great.” Gine said as she walked into the kitchen.

“Thank you, I’m almost finished.” You glanced back at her.

She walked around to where you were finishing up the pancakes and looked over the other piles of food you had already made, “I can see why Kakarot likes you so much.”

“He um… He just likes to eat.” You stammered, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks while you thought about how your morning started with him wrapped around you.

“It’s more than that.” She offered a small smile before Bardock and Kakarot entered the kitchen.

“She cooked us a buffet, boys.” Gine walked around the table and kissed Bardock on the cheek, to which he grunted but didn’t pull away.

It was odd seeing saiyans this way. Your main interaction with them included anger and roughness, besides the time with Kakarot recently. You wondered if all saiyan families were this way, distant but connected on a deeper level that supersedes regular contact.

“Raditz will be here shortly for training. He’s growing soft, as are you.” Bardock said as he took a seat at the table.

You couldn’t help the slight drop you felt in your chest at the thought of seeing him again. You were honestly hoping that you could avoid any contact with him ever again, but that was nothing more than a hopeful wish.

“I’m an Elite Warrior.” Kakarot defended himself, looking a little annoyed.

“An Elite Warrior who is on trial and may be sentenced to death soon, and who has been in several similar situations recently.”

You fought the urge to speak, knowing Bardock would most likely end your life where you stood at the stove. You focused on finishing up the pancakes and tried to ignore their conversation, but it wasn’t possible.

“Only at the request of the Prince. Maybe you should take it up with him as to why I’m on trial yet again.” He snapped.

“Boys-“ Gine tried to intervene, but it was pointless with the two saiyans.

“The Prince gives you an order of where to be and what to do, if you stray from the mission then that’s on you.”

Kakarot let out an annoyed laugh, “you know nothing of the orders he gives me.”

“Enlighten me then, what exactly is the Prince asking of you? Is he asking you to conquer planets or murder your own kind?!” Bardock all but shouted.

You tensed immediately and wished you were anywhere but there in that moment. You refused to turn around or make any movement at all. The food was done but you weren’t about to interrupt them.

“We both follow the orders we’re given. You know that better than anyone else.”

Bardock lowered his voice, “if the Prince is giving you orders to-“

“What? You’d tell the King? Even if it were true, I’d still be the one held accountable. Is the food done?” Kakarot turned all of the tension at the table into a focus on you.

“Y-Yeah. Just finished.” You grabbed the plates and set them out across the table for them.

You kept your gaze away from any of them as you served them. The tension in the room could be felt as you moved around the table and it made you eager to leave the room completely.

“Aren’t you going to eat with us?” Gine asked as you took a step towards the doorway.

“Gine-“ Bardock said with a warning glance.

“Um, no, I’m not really hungry and I need to start on some other chores.”

“No. You’re going to the palace to ask the Prince to buy you today.” Kakarot said without a hitch as he glanced over at his father.

“I didn’t know if I needed to do that today or wait-”

“What’s there to wait for?”

You felt like you were being put on the spot in front of them, if you were alone you could at least talk to him openly about the sudden change in his dimeanor.

“I thought you still needed me- my services?”

He continued to eat without looking back at you, “you’re no longer needed. Go.”

“Yes, of course.” You felt the lump in your throat rising and a heaviness building in your chest.

“Kakarot-“

You could hear Gine trying to defend you as you made your way down the hall, but he’d made up his mind and Bardock was saying nothing to help. It was stupid, idiotic of you to think he wanted to keep you as long as he could. The conversation with Bardock only served to remind him of his fate and how limited his time was, bringing everything from the last few hours to a halt. Your time together the night before and that morning was nothing more than a bliss filled break from the crushing weight of the fact that he would be dead within a week and you’d be serving your new owner.

“Finish your food and meet me outside to spar before your brother arrives.” Bardock pushed his chair out and headed out the backdoor.

“Why did you send her away?” Gine kept her voice low.

“Because I don’t need her here.”

“But you want her here.”

He sat his fork down and pushed his plate away, “it doesn’t matter what I want. She makes one wrong step or says something he doesn’t like then she’ll cease to exist.”

“Have you chosen her as your mate?” Gine asked bluntly.

“What is it with the two of you asking me that?”

She persisted, “answer the question, Kakarot.”

“No, I haven’t. She’s human, I’m saiyan-”

“Regardless of what he thinks, your father isn’t always right. If you want her here with you during your last few days, then have her. We can stay somewhere else.” Gine began clearing the plates from the table.

Kakarot knew how difficult it had been on his mother to even acknowledge the trial and sentencing before, trying to avoid the subject altogether. She had always tried to be the softer presence in their lives, offering a place of comfort as contrast to Bardock’s harshness.

“I’m not choosing a human over my parents.”

Gine placed the dishes in the sink and walked back over to Kakarot, placing her hand on his shoulder, “no matter what your father or I say, the trial is happening and with us here you’re only reminded of that fact. If she can provide a distraction for even a moment, then take it.”

The walk to the palace seemed shorter than usual, most likely because you were stuck in your head, replaying the events that had just transpired and how you were going to beg the prince to purchase you. He didn’t seem super fond of you and it was nerve wracking to think what might happen if he refused, if you’d go to the arena? Or worse, Raditz? The words ‘I’m here to see the prince’ rolled off your tongue without a hitch as you stood at the palace doors. It didn’t occur to you to talk with Bulma beforehand, but it was too late as you were ushered towards the two massive doors that led directly to the prince.

“I’d say I’m surprised to see you here, but that damned woman won’t shut up about you.” Vegeta said as you timidly approached him.

You fidgeted with your fingers as you stood a few feet away from him, “then you know why I’m here?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m don’t want to hear you say it anyways.” He smirked.

You took a deep breath and prepared yourself, “my current owner has a trial coming up and will have no use for me. I came here today to ask if you would… if you wanted to purchase me from him?”

Vegeta didn’t even try to hide the joy he got from you coming to him, “what can you offer me that I don’t already have?”

“I can cook and clean.”

“I have chefs and maids. Anything else?” He rested his head against his hand, looking completely disinterested.

You didn’t really expect that you’d have to sell yourself all that much, especially with the way Bulma and Kakarot seemed so sure he’d buy you. Vegeta seemed like the type to value not only skill, but the confidence to back it up and you didn’t really have any other options except him.

“I highly doubt your chefs can cook as well as I can.”  

“Arrogant for a human in your position.”

“Add that to my list of skills.” You felt your heart pounding against your chest wildly as you became even more cocky, hoping it wouldn’t backfire on you.

Vegeta stood up from his throne and made his way towards you, regarding you curiously with a slight scowl on his face. You felt even more on edge the closer he got to you, intimidated by him more than you were Bardock. Since the moment you opened your eyes that morning, things were going in a weird direction as the day went on and you weren’t sure you could handle anything else. He strode around you, hands clasped behind his back and the click of his boots on the hard floor fell in sync with the thumping of your heart against your chest. He made his way back around in front of you, grabbing your face and turning your head side to side as if he was inspecting you.

“I’ll consider your request. I’d like to see this cooking skill of yours before I make my decision though.” He released your face.

“The sooner the better, Kakarot no longer needs my services.” You pushed down the sadness that still lingered from the realization that he didn’t want you anymore.

“Noted. You may leave.” He turned away from you and headed back towards his throne.

On the way out of the palace you looked around a little more, paying attention to the vastness of the rooms and the bustling groups of saiyans and humans moving about. There was a possibility that this was going to be your new home and it seemed busier than you’d noticed before. There was a curiosity of what your position would even be with Vegeta, he already had Bulma and they seemed more in love than anyone you’d ever known in your life, though he probably wouldn’t admit it.

“I take it you spoke with Prince Grumpy?” Bulma said, startling you from behind.

“Y-Yeah, he wasn’t nearly as grumpy this time.” You smiled as she pulled you into a quick hug.

“So, did he jump at the chance to buy you?” She asked as she pulled away.

“Not exactly. He said he’d think about it and he wants me to cook for him before he decides.” Which wasn’t an unreasonable request.

Bulma furrowed her brow, “what a dick. He knows the time restraints of your situation. Let me talk to him, I’ll get him to make a move sooner.”

“How do you feel about this whole thing? Like, you’re,” you leaned a little closer and lowered your voice, “his mate, right?”

“I don’t mind it. Plus, it’ll be nice to have someone else take on some of his saiyan stamina.” She smiled.

“Is that- will that be a requirement? Kakarot just has me cook and clean for him.”

Bulma pulled you aside to where you could have a little privacy, “Vegeta wants a saiyan-human hybrid, something about his bloodline and a super saiyan something. He isn’t going to purchase another human just to have them doing housework. He has plenty of chefs and maids for that.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that. So, we both fuck him and hopefully give him an heir? Then what?”

“Then we get to live like queens here in the palace, doing whatever we want. It really isn’t a bad trade off, plus, the sex is ridiculous. So, it’s a win-win.”

Bulma seemed so carefree about the whole situation, even sharing Vegeta with you. It was all so weird to you, but she didn’t seem phased by any of it. You weren’t exactly keen on becoming a breeding sow for an alien, but there weren’t really a plethora of options for you, and Kakarot was doing his best to keep you sexually frustrated. It wasn’t like he really wanted you anymore anyways. Maybe it was best to just lean into the reality of your situation between Vegeta and Bulma and say ‘fuck it’ to everything else. Your realization gave you a momentary reprieve from the anxiety in your stomach as you made your way back to Kakarot’s house, hoping he and the other saiyans were absent so you could start packing your things and have a few hours of peace.

As you approached the door with a newfound sense of purpose, you listened for a moment for any indication of someone inside. There were no signs of loud, bolstering saiyans arguing or bold voices echoing through the walls, so you decided the coast was clear.

“Where have you been?” Kakarot asked the second your foot stepped over the threshold.

“Where do you think?” You shot back, half annoyed and half startled from his sudden presence.

Closing the door behind you, you made a path towards your room and away from him, but he wasn’t one to be ignored. He grabbed your arm and spun you back around to face him.

“Well? Did he agree to buy you?”

“He wants me to cook for him first, but Bulma seems to think it’s a done deal.” You jerked your arm away from him.

He ran his hand through his hair, and if you didn’t know better you’d say he looked almost nervous, “did he say when he was going to make his decision?”

You glanced around, seeing no other saiyans around, a little curious and confused, “where are your parents?”

“Answer my question first.”

“He didn’t say,” you stared up at him, wondering what was going on and getting no answers, “parents?”

“And what about cooking for him?” Kakarot took a step closer to you.

“I answered your question, now answer mine.” You stepped back, feeling a little like prey in his eyes.

“Gone. Answer.” He took another step towards you.

“He wasn’t clear on it. Your par-“

“Did he touch you?” He sniffed the air between you as if he was trying to pick up Vegeta’s scent.

“No, he didn’t. Where are your-“

Suddenly he closed the distance between you, arms wrapping around you and his lips pressed to yours. It was abrupt and a slight shock, but you soon fell into a rhythm with him, leaning into his arms and his broad chest, needing to feel him pressed against you again. The incident from that morning was no longer on your mind, the way he pushed you aside had fallen to the back of your mind and you were helpless in his embrace. He walked you back and pressed you against the wall, his lips never breaking away from yours for a second. It was taking all the willpower you had not to wrap yourself around him like a vine and never let go, but he must have picked up on that thought as he lifted you into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist.

Breathless but curious about time restraints, “your parents… when are they-“

“They’re not. It’s just us.” He said hurriedly as he returned his mouth to yours, his tongue slipping past your lips.

Kakarot slid his hand up your back, gripping the back of your neck and entangling his fist in your hair. He held you there as he kissed you, clearly wanting you as badly as you wanted him. He pulled you away from the wall and headed down the hallway towards his bedroom. Everything about this was confusing and complex, but it was the only thing you were sure you wanted. After pushing his door open he laid you down on the bed, prying your arms and legs off of him. He stood at the end of the bed and pulled his shirt over his head, letting it drop to the floor as he crawled up the bed towards you.

You sat back on your elbows, watching him intensely as he moved, his eyes fixed on yours as if he was starving for another taste of your lips. You reached for the hem of your shirt and tried to mimic him in removing your shirt, but he stopped you. He moved your hands aside as he pushed your shirt up slowly with one of his large hands, skimming it along your stomach and over your breasts. He crawled up closer, his mouth hovering over the soft skin of your exposed stomach. Not once did he break his gaze away from yours, not even when he touched his lips to your skin gently, or when he kissed a trail up your stomach. His hands worked to rid you of your shirt while his mouth remained on you, touching you the entire time he moved upwards towards your breasts that were now exposed to him as well.

“Kakarot-“ Your breath hitched in your throat as you stared down at him, the dark look in his eyes setting a fire within you.

He splayed his hand over your chest and lightly pressed against you, pushing you down flat on the bed. Every move he made was simultaneously tender and forceful, positioning you how he wanted you and bending you to his will. He leaned down over one of your breasts, letting the warmth of his breath blow over your nipple, making you itch for more. He kept his eyes on you, watching your movements and how you responded to him. When his tongue finally flicked over your nipple, you thought you were going to levitate off the bed. He quickly quelled your squirming by sucking your nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it while his hand kneaded your other breast. You arched your back off the bed, spreading your legs and letting him settle between them. You wanted him, needed him, and you were tired of pretending you didn’t. As shameful and guilty as it made you feel, this is what you wanted more than anything. Everything else was meaningless as you melted into him and let him touch you the way you’d been craving for so long. He released your nipple and moved over to the other, repeating his slow, torturous actions until you were tugging at his hair.

“Patience. We have all night.” He leaned up and kissed you swiftly before setting a new trail towards the apex of your thighs.

As he moved down, his hands dipped into the waistband of your pants and panties, slowly peeling them down your legs. It was difficult to stay still, to not throw yourself at him and demand he go faster, but you wanted to enjoy this for as long as you could. After ridding you of your clothing he sat back for a moment, his eyes slowly roaming up your body until they met yours. His tail unraveled from his waist and caressed your outer thigh gently, soft fur prickling against your skin. Kakarot slid off the bed to remove the rest of his clothing before rejoining you and climbing back up your body. This time his tail immediately curled around your thigh and snaked up your body towards your breasts.

“Do you- I mean, is this something you want to do?” He asked, eyes searching yours for any hesitancy as he settled between your legs.

“Little late to ask that, isn’t it?” You smirked and shifted beneath him.

“If it’s not, we can-“

You cupped his face and pulled him down into a soft kiss, silencing him and giving him an answer at the same time. He groaned and leaned into you, lowering himself more, his body pressed against yours. The heat radiating off him was stifling but perfect. As he moved again, spreading your legs wider, you could feel the tip of his cock pressed against your slick cunt.

In the split second between his tail softly moving across your chest and his teeth sinking into your bottom lip, he eased into you slowly. Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling of his cock sliding into you in a torturously slow manner, inch by inch as you adjusted to him.

“More.” You said breathlessly, begging easier than you thought you would.

He grinned against your lips as he bottomed out inside of you, pushing his cock the rest of the way into you and making you gasp into his mouth. Having him fully seated within you and his perfectly toned body pressed against yours was almost too surreal. You kissed him almost hurriedly, trying to release some of the nervous energy you had pent up. He eased out of you even slower than before and paused for a moment, leaving you waiting until you tried to tilt your hips up to entice him. He thrust into you hard, knocking the breath from your lungs and making you cling to him. He set a slow pace of fucking you, each time driving his cock deeper within you as you dug your nails into his muscular shoulders.

Kakarot gripped your thigh and wrapped one of your legs around him, giving him better access to you as he fucked you harder. His hips snapped against yours as his tail wrapped around your thigh tightly, squeezing you. His mouth trailed down your jaw to your throat, teeth grazing along your skin. Everything he did, every slight touch, kiss, bite, thrust, all of it was perfect and left you panting and whimpering beneath the large saiyan.

“Don’t stop… please…” You begged, so close to letting go.

He fucked you a little faster, his cock slamming into you as the bed beneath you creaked and the headboard banged against the wall. He was still holding back, but it was intense nonetheless. He captured your lips again, slipping his tongue between them and kissing you gently in contrast to the rest of his movements. The noises filling the room were obscene, making your cheeks flush at the sound of his cock driving in and out of your dripping cunt. Your moans and whimpering mixed perfectly with his grunts and groans, along with the light growl he let out against your neck.

Your muscles clenched around him and squeezed his cock as you finally let go. Your mouth hung open against his with a slew of muttered pleas and utterances of his name spewing out. You scratched your nails down his back and clung to him more. He continued to drive into you roughly, until he found his own release, his tail tightening around your thigh. His cock twitched as he came inside of you, his cum filling you as you struggled to regain control over your breathing.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, sweat glistening and sticking to both of your bodies. Your limbs fell limp beneath him as the intensity of your orgasm waned and sucked the rest of your energy from you. The way the day began, you assumed it was going to end just as roughly, but you were pleasantly surprised at how wrong you were.