#while i had to repeat everything at least twice while keeping an even tone lest they make me stop me walking and complain about my attitude

[frotting-corporations]

me after walking around 3 campuses for 6 hours for their university's open day

[love-and-monsters]

Arunio the Merman

Happy Mermay everybody! In honor of this wonderful month, here’s a story about a lovely merman. I had a good time writing this (it’s a bit longer than usual) so I hope you all enjoy.

Male merman X gender neutral reader, 6,447 words

Living near the sea was supposed to be peaceful.

It wasn’t during the day, that was for sure. Living on the boardwalk meant hearing the constant chatter of tourists and visitors outside from dawn until dusk. But the rent hadn’t been bad, considering it was beachfront property, and working in the shop downstairs meant that your travel expenses were nearly nonexistent. It had been a great stroke of luck that you’d been able to get a job and a home in one fell swoop- apparently the owner of the shop wanted someone to watch over everything at night and open early in the morning and had been willing to drop rent significantly in return.

You had been expecting there to be crowds and noise during the day. But the night, at least when there weren’t events, was supposed to be quiet. The beach was closed, and even the people who snuck on were at least somewhat quiet, lest the police show up.

Despite this, you had been woken every night, just after midnight, by someone singing.

At least, it was probably singing. That was the only way you could describe the unearthly wailing that came from the water’s edge. The tone ululated, notes wavering in a way that seemed both sad and hopeful.

The sound seemed unusually loud, given that you were fairly certain it was coming from the beach and your house wasn’t that close. And no amount of closing windows or pulling pillows over your head would make the sound go away. If anything, it became more insistent, needling against your brain until you gave up and lay awake for the requisite hour.

It was always an hour, or thereabouts. The song would remain constant until at least one, then it would fade away and you would have to try and fall back asleep again. That would have been easier if the song wasn’t so haunting. You would drift off, almost to sleep, and then you would remember a particularly moving swell or feel the tremor of hopeful notes in your chest and you would be awake again, eyes brimming with tears.

After a week, you felt like you were going mad. The lack of sleep had fogged your brain and the notes seemed to haunt you during the day. It was when you realized that you were humming it under your breath at work that you decided something needed to be done.

Your plan was simple. Sneak onto the beach after closing, find whoever was singing, and tell them, quite politely, to shut it. You weren’t sure how the mysterious singer would take that, but you were hoping you could look at least intimidating enough to get them to move somewhere else.

The beach was quiet after dark, the only noise being the rushing of the waves as they hit the shore. It was a soothing sound, one that lulled you into a doze despite the coarse sand.

A long, low note brought you out of your sleep. You jerked awake, song ringing in your ears. The beach was dark, only a thin sliver of moonlight illuminating the water. And in the little line of light, there was the singer.

For a moment, you thought he was lying very awkwardly on the beach, arms supporting his torso while his legs splayed behind him. And then, as your eyes adjusted to the scant lighting, you saw the fins at his waist and on his sides and the enormous tail that made up his lower half. Multilayered, frilly fins billowed in the constant motions of the waves.

A merman. A fucking merman. You’d never seen one. You didn’t know anyone who’d seen one. Mermaids were rare, but you’d seen a few older ones acting as ambassadors to humans. Mermen were almost never seen- apparently their society was matriarchal and they remained sequestered beneath the waves, with little opportunities to interact with the above-water world.

 He was a striking specimen. Dark stripes lined his tail and torso, and thin spines lifted along his back. His hair fell to his shoulders, fluffed into a lion-like mane. As you watched him, he tilted his head back and opened his mouth.

The song poured forth. It felt like a physical force now that you were close. The notes suffused your skin. It felt like the song was something you could touch, feel with every cell in your body.

It was a dizzying sensation and it took you a moment to gather yourself. “Hey!”

The song stopped. His head whipped toward you, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. For a long moment, there was no sound except the crashing of the waves on the beach.

The merman sagged, lowering himself closer to the beach. “You heard me singing?”

His mouth didn’t move. You heard the words, but it took you a moment to realize you’d heard them in your head. Well, that explained why putting pillows over your head hadn’t helped. “I came here because I heard you singing,” you told him. “You’re loud.”

His head tilted slowly to one side. There were stripes along his cheekbones. “You heard me,” he repeated. This time, his tone was less surprised and more contemplative. He peered up at you, head tilting back and forth.

“Yes,” you repeated tersely. You were wondering if he was a little slow. “It’s loud. I heard you all the way from my house.”

The merman’s eyes widened and he smiled. His teeth were long and pointed. “And it drew you here?”

“Yes,” you said, starting to lose your patience. “Because it was keeping me awake. I know singing is important for merfolk, but if you could do it at another time, that would be very helpful, because I really need to get some sleep.”

The merman jerked forward, taking hold of your hand. Before you could even react, he pressed the back of your head to his forehead and he sang.

This time, the notes didn’t seem to move into you from the outside so much as they started inside you. They vibrated under your skin, swelled in the hollow of your chest. You could feel every rise and fall of the notes in the swoop of your stomach.

When he released your hand, you stumbled. It felt like you had been floating out of your body for a moment and when he let go of you, you had been slammed back into your heavy physical form.

“What,” you said, between heavy breaths, “was that?”

“Our song,” the merman said, sounding exceedingly pleased.

“Our song,” you repeated.

The merman’s tail swished back and forth in the surf. “Mermen sing to find their mates,” he said. “We separate from our pods and sing until our mate finds us.” He ducked his head a little. “I have been traveling for several lunes. But no one has been drawn to my song. Until now.”

You opened your mouth slowly. He looked so hopeful that it was hard to get the words out. “I didn’t come because I was drawn to your song. You woke me up. I was just trying to see what was making the noise.”

The merman tilted his head to one side. The fins on either side of his head, where his ears should have been, flexed slowly. “You heard me,” he repeated. It was the sort of tone you would use with a particularly dumb child.

“Yes,” you said. “But I didn’t come because I thought it was a good song. It kept waking me up.”

The merman was silent for a moment, just looking at you steadily. You wondered if he was getting a crick in his neck from having to look up for so long. “I think you are misunderstanding,” he said after a moment. “The song should be beautiful, but mates are not chosen by whose song they enjoy the most. They are chosen by who hears it.”

You sat slowly on the beach. The surf washed over your feet. “Explain.”

“Our songs are personal. They come from our hearts. Only those who are connected to us can hear our songs.” He frowned. “This is difficult to explain. I know the human tongue, but it lacks the words. Our mate songs are produced on the deepest level of our selves. Only those who are on the same level can hear us. Only our mates.”

“It’s like frequencies,” you said. “You produce your songs on a certain frequency, and only someone who is on the same frequency can hear you.”

“You have heard the song. Which means that you are connected to me.” He rested a hand over his chest. “My mate.”

“I’m… human, though,” you said. “How is that possible?”

“The song has touched humans before. I have heard legends of humans who left the land to become notes in the great song. And merfolk who deafened themselves to the chorus to sing only with their partner. Humans may be mute, but rarely are they deaf to the song in its entirety.”

The waves were rising, pulling further up onto shore. You ignored it. “Humans who left the land?”

“They became part of the song,” he said, as if that explained anything at all. “They allowed themselves to become part of it, became singers. Their voices are always weaker, but the song allows all participants.”

“I don’t understand.”

He patted your hand. “You do not need to. Not now.” He glanced at the rising water. “I must return to the sea. But I will see you again. Listen for me. My song will guide you.”

He lifted your hand and pressed his lips to it. A measure of music flowed through you, rapid and trilling, and then he broke contact. With a fluid, twisting motion, he plunged into the rising surf. A few strokes of his powerful tail, and he had drifted back out to the ocean.

You sat on the beach for a few moments. Once or twice, you thought you saw his tail fin break the surface of the waves, but it was distant enough that it could have just been an oddly shaped wave.

Finally, when you were certain he was gone and he wasn’t coming back, you turned and marched up the beach, back to your house.

You did manage to fall asleep when you got into bed. Catching up on a week’s worth of missed sleep wasn’t going to wait for a time when your mind was less full. But your dreams were odd and full of mournful, melodic song.

When you woke up, you weren’t feeling significantly rested, so you did something you hadn’t since you’d gotten your job: you called out sick. You needed some time to think.

After eating breakfast, you grabbed your laptop and began to do some research.

Merfolk weren’t well-understood by humans. There were only a few consistent pieces of information that popped up: they were largely nomadic, they had some sort of telepathic ability that they referred to as ‘singing’, and they were largely matriarchal, with men expected to leave their pods once they came of age and seek out a mate. Everything else was largely steeped in hearsay and folklore.

Attempting to look specifically toward merfolk and humans being mated was even more of a mire of misinformation. Most of what you found seemed to be erotic fiction, and most of that was very poorly written. Even the stuff that could have been true was inconsistent, or didn’t match with what your merman had told you.

You rubbed your hands over your face. There were stories about merfolk and humans hooking up, but that was all they seemed to be. Just stories. But your merman had seemed certain it was real.

Then again, merfolk didn’t delineate fact from fiction the same way humans did. They told stories and sang songs, and whatever made for a better story or song was what got passed on. The listener got to decide what they believed was true.

“Fuck.” You leaned back in your bed and rubbed at your temples. So, what he mentioned about humans and mefolk being together could have been true. Or it could have been legends and tall tales. There was no way to tell. He probably didn’t even know.

You tried to dig deeper, find out more, but they were stubbornly mysterious. Half the things people said about them were contradictory, and if any merfolk had come to land to find their mates, they had kept their mouths shut. If you wanted to know anything about merfolk, there was only one source you could go to.

Which meant that, when midnight approached, you were down on the beach, waiting for him to return.

His song preceded him. Your heart pounded in almost perfect time with the rhythm and his long, gentle notes rang in your head. Then you saw his tail break the surface of the water close to the shore and he swam up onto the beach.

When the water grew too shallow for him to swim further, he hauled himself out with his arms. His tail worked against the sand, pushing himself fully out of the water.

“I’m glad you came,” he said as you approached him. “I was not sure that you would.”

You sat down in front of him as he fully pulled himself out of the water. “I was trying to learn more about merfolk,” you said. “You said that merfolk have taken humans as mates before, but I haven’t seen anything about that.”

“Merfolk songs travel further than human ones. And we notice new singers more readily than humans.”

“New singers?”

“New merfolk, to add their voices to the eversong,” he said. “If you come to the sea with me, you will join your voice with the eversong. Or, if you are unwilling to become a singer, I can deafen myself to the song and come to be with you.”

“You would be willing to do that?” you asked.

He closed his eyes. “Sometimes, a singer must leave the song for it to resolve properly. And the mate song is absolute. I may return to the sea, but I will never find another one who will hear my song. I would like to be heard.”

You looked out over the waves as the flowed up onto the beach. “Do I have to decide now?”

He rested his hand over yours. “When it begins to grow cold, I will not be able to stay here. I will either need to return to the deeper sea or leave it altogether.”

“So, I have the summer,” you said. He nodded. His hand shifted, squeezing your fingers. “Okay.”

“Listen for the eversong,” he suggested. “Humans make poor listeners, but some have claimed to hear it before.” A few notes chimed in your head, though you were fairly certain they were his. “I should return to the sea now. But I will see you again.”

His hand reached up for your face and cupped your chin. He pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, then he turned and plunged back into the waves.

Going to the beach at night became a new part of your routine. He was nearly always waiting for you or just a few minutes from showing up. And it rapidly became the best part of your day.

Most of the time, you would talk. He was interested in learning about life on land and you got to learn a lot about his culture.

“My name?” he asked when you requested it. “It is-” He stopped and sang out a series of tremulous notes.

 You tried to hum them back to him. Hitting the notes wasn’t hard, but there was a deeper, ringing tone to his voice that you couldn’t replicate. Your voice sounded oddly flat in comparison.It

He laughed, dark eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “Your pronunciation needs work,” he said. “For a name easier on your tongue, try Arunio.”

“Ah-roo-nee-oh,” you repeated. There was a musical cadence to the way he spoke that you tried to replicate. He nodded.

“Would you like me to give you a merfolk name?” he asked. “I have one in mind.”

“Go for it,” you said.

He placed his hand over yours and sang. It was a high, ringing noise, almost like a peal of laughter and it made warmth radiate through your chest.

“That’s my name?” you asked. He grinned, tail swishing through the water.

“You like it? It means…” He paused, tapping a long nail against his lower lip. “There is no human word that is exactly equivalent. It is the way sunlight looks when it cuts through clear water and you can feel its warmth on your back when you swim.”

A lump wedged itself into your throat. You had to swallow a few times before you could speak. “That’s beautiful,” you said. “What does your name mean?”

He laughed. “It means ‘one who wanders into fortune’. It is supposed to have been part of an old blessing given to mermen when they leave their pods.” He rested his chin on your knee. “Supposedly, it brings luck.”

You reached your fingers out and tentatively stroked them over his hair. It wasn’t particularly soft or silky- you weren’t even sure it was technically hair- but he made a pleasant humming noise in his chest whenever you touched him there, so you kept it up. “Do you think it worked?”

A gentle laugh vibrated through his chest. “Yes. I think it worked quite well.”

The night always finished with him singing quietly to you. Even on nights where you couldn’t make it to the beach, you could hear him calling to you. It kept you awake just as much as it had before, but you didn’t mind it. The song followed you into your dreams, filling them with oceans and swimming.

As the summer went on, your visits became slightly more infrequent. The shop only got busier as the peak of the season approached, and you could no longer afford missing the extra hours of sleep. He still sang to you, but, as per your request, the songs came earlier in the night. You drifted off to the sound of his singing sinking into your skin.

Just after the midpoint of summer, the shop was the busiest it had been all season. The only contact you’d had with Arunio all week had been his singing at night. Not only was manning the shop more difficult than usual, but you were expected to assist with making some of the candy that went out, which meant earlier mornings and later nights. The combination of exhaustion and missing Arunio meant that you weren’t entirely surprised when you thought, for half a second, that he had just walked into your shop.

The resemblance was striking. The hair was the same shade of deep red and it tumbled to his shoulders in a tousled mane. His features were similar too, with the same sharp nose and clever-looking eyes. But his skin was freckled, and there was, of course, he fact that he was walking. He was even wearing clothes. Touristy clothes. Both his shirt and pants were plastered with the beach’s logo, a bold fashion choice considering its gaudiness. But it wasn’t exactly out-of-place, so you went back to slicing off chunks of fudge for your current customer without another thought.

That was, until he spoke.

“I’ve missed you!”

You had been crouched down to rearrange part of the display case and you stood up so fast that you nearly slammed your head on the glass. There was no mistaking that voice. It wasn’t exactly the same. For one thing, you were hearing it outside of your head, instead of inside it, and, because of that, it lacked a certain richness. But other than that, it was exactly the same.

Arunio was leaning over the counter, a wide grin on his face. Now that you were getting a better look at his face, you felt stupid for not knowing it had been him at first. The freckles- looking at them properly, you could see that they weren’t in the standard scattered form of freckles. They outlined the shape of his stripes.

“You’re human!” you said, barely remembering to keep your voice down. “How- how did you-?”

“I told you about merfolk leaving the sea behind before,” he said. “I sang and the song moved, and it changed me.” He twisted a lock of hair around his fingers. “I thought it would be much quieter on land, without the song. But humans are quite loud themselves.”

“You- you changed?” you asked. “How do you turn back? Can you turn back?”

“I asked the song to change me back when I return to the sea,” he said. “The changing is difficult, though. I cannot attempt it again soon.”

“But you can go back and forth?” you said. “Can I change back and forth?”

“Yes. But it is not an easy process. It stresses the body. Doing it multiple times in a short period would be strenuous. The person doing it would grow ill if they attempted it often,” he explained. “But I wished to see you again. Even if I cannot sing for you in this form.”

Luckily you hadn’t gone on your lunch break yet, so you hurriedly clocked out and joined Arunio on the boardwalk. Now that you were getting a better look at him, you could see that his walk was unusual. He wobbled a little and would occasionally forget to move his legs so he tripped and stumbled. None of this seemed to dampen his spirits, though, and it gave him the rather endearing quality of an overexcited puppy.

“It’s very loud!” he said, speaking over the constant noise of the boardwalk. “And it’s very bright.” He squinted directly up at the sun.

“Don’t do that,” you said. “You’ll go blind.”

He looked back down at you. “And there are so many smells!” He sniffed at the air, head turning back and forth.

“Yeah, it’s a boardwalk. It’s got a lot of food,” you said. “Speaking of which, I should probably get some lunch. Do you want anything?”

His eyes widened when you led him up to one of the food stands and he saw the selection. “I’ve never had human food before,” he said into your ear. “What should I get?”

“Anything look good to you?” you asked. Arunio sniffed again, turning toward the fried food in the stand.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to a tangle of fried dough.

“A funnel cake. You want it?” He nodded. “Okay.” You ordered a slice of pizza and the funnel cake. He took it tentatively, eyes wide. The flimsy paper plate bent under the weight of fried dough and sugar.

You guided him over to a table and bit into your pizza. He peered tentatively at the funnel cake, apparently uncertain how to eat it. “Just grab a chunk, pull it off, and eat,” you said, demonstrating. He watched you pop it in your mouth, then mimicked you.

“Oh! It’s hot!” he said, clapping a hand to his mouth. You laughed at his startled expression.

“Yeah, it’s fresh. Just came out of the fryer.” He chewed, swallowed, and licked the powdered sugar off his fingers, before tugging off another bite. His eyes closed and he made a contented noise in the back of his throat. “You like it?”

“It’s good!” he said. “I’ve never had anything like this stuff.” He poked the powdered sugar with a finger and licked it off.

“It’s sugar. I guess they wouldn’t have sugar under the ocean,” you said. “It’s not good for you to have too much of it, but it does taste good, doesn’t it?”

He nodded, snagging another bite. You finished off your pizza, offering him the last few bites.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” you said. “I’ll see if I can get off early, though. Maybe we can do something before everything closes. Can you come back around five?” He gave you a blank look. “Oh, shit, right. You wouldn’t know time. Look, why don’t you hang around the shop? I’ll let you know when I get off.”

He nodded agreeably and you left him just outside the shop. Every now and then, you saw him through the enormous glass windows of the shop. He stared out over the beach, watching the waves hit the shore.

It took some pleading and promises to come in earlier, but you managed to get off for the rest of the evening. Arunio pulled you into a crushing hug when you approached him. “You got off! Are you done for the rest of the evening?”

“Yeah. Figured that if you were going to be on land, we might as well take some time to see the sights.” You wriggled away from him and held out a box. “I got some candies for you.”

He poked through the box, peering at the assorted chocolates there. “These are food?” he said, peering at the shiny wrapping.

“You have to take the paper off first,” you said, unwrapping one and holding it out to him. “Here.”

He took it delicately from your fingers with his teeth. “These are sweet too,” he said.

“Yeah. It’s chocolate. They’ve got sugar in them,” you said. “They’re good, aren’t they?” He nodded, unwrapping another.

You walked along the boardwalk together. Sometimes you stopped to play one of the carnival games or looked through one of the touristy shops. Arunio was pretty poor at all the games, but he seemed to genuinely thrilled by them that you let him go over and over again, ignoring how much of a hole he was burning in your wallet.

Eventually, as the sun started to set, you walked out to an empty pier. “The land isn’t what I thought it would be like,” Arunio said. “But I did enjoy it.” He sat down, letting his legs dangle into the water.

“I’m glad,” you said. “I had a good time today too.” You peered down at the dark water. “But you have to return to the sea now, huh?”

“I should,” he said. “And I won’t be able to be on land again for a while.” He looked at you. “Are you going to be able to visit me again soon?”

“I’ll try,” you said. “The peak of the season will be over soon, so I’ll be able to get out sooner.”

He signed, shifting on the pier. “Okay. Don’t stay away too long, all right?” He looked at you through his lashes. “I miss you.”

He moved to jump off the pier, but you put a hand on his chest. “Hold on.” He paused and you reached out, resting your fingers under his chin. You saw his eyes widen a second before you leaned in and kissed him.

He tasted both sweet, like chocolate, and salty, like the sea. His lips moved under yours, tongue tentatively prodding against your mouth. It was a slow, tentative kiss, one that made happiness swell slowly in your chest.

When you broke away, there was a wide-eyed expression on Arunio’s face. “Thank you,” he said faintly. You snorted, surprised, and a faint blush crept up his cheeks. “I enjoyed that.”

“I did too,” you said. “Um. I’ll see you again soon.”

“Right,” Arunio agreed. He ducked in and pressed another, brief kiss to your lips before slipping under the waves.

Gradually, the season slowed and you had more time to spend with Arunio. Your conversations often turned toward the land, and he would ask about things he’d seen. Eventually, you started just taking your phone out and showing him some of your photos. He was fascinated by it, though you were cautious about letting him hold it. You trusted him, but his scaled palms were a little slick and you didn’t want to risk losing your phone in the waves.

Later on one night, you finally got up your courage to ask him. “You said it was possible for me to join you in the water,” you said. He tilted his head a little, fins twitching.

“You want to go swimming?” he asked.

“Sort of,” you said. “I was wondering if it was possible… For me to do the thing you did to come up on land?”

His eyes widened and he clasped your hands in his. “You want to become a merfolk?”

“Not permanently. Like what you did to become a human. Try it out,” you said. He nodded agreeably, grinning.

“Yes! Okay. Take off your clothes.”

You blanched. He waited. “I have to get naked?”

He tilted his head. “Yes? You could keep the shirt, I suppose, but it will be uncomfortable. And the pants will get in the way of the tail.” He shrugged. “I’m not wearing anything.”

Well, that was true. Embarrassed, you shucked your clothes, folded them up in a secluded spot where hopefully no one would notice them, and slipped into the water.

It was cold, even though the night air was still pleasantly warm. Arunio carefully swam out to sea beside you, until the water was up to your chest and it was getting hard to keep your feet on the sand.

“It will be easier under the water,” Arunio said. He tugged at your elbow. “Come under.”

You took in a deep breath and went down. Stinging salt squeezed past your closed eyelids and the waves tugged at you. Arunio’s hands rested on your arms, steadying you. Then they moved, coming to rest on either side of her face.

He sang. The music was loud and repetitive, like a rhythmic chant. It plunged into your skin, reaching every last portion of your body. The noise resonated through you. Every one of your cells seemed to be vibrating at that exact frequency. There was no sensation, just the music inside you, ringing through you, filling you completely.

The music stopped. You sagged, currents buffeting you. Your body felt distant, as if you were floating above it, connected with a thin tether.

Arunio took hold of your arm, pulling your through the water with him. “Can you move?” he asked you. There was a resonant quality to his voice, something musical that hadn’t been there before. “Swish your tail. Move your arms.”

Your tail. Slowly, you could feel your senses returning and everything from your waist down felt different. Your legs felt heavy and long. No, not your legs. Your tail. You had a tail.

You opened your eyes and looked.

Where your legs had once been, there was now a pale orange tail, with a large, white fin. A look at your arms showed that scales had sprouted and fins had formed at your forearms. You could feel the fins on the side of your head twitching in the currents.

And then your sense of hearing kicked in and you didn’t really care about the tail anymore.

The ocean, you had always thought, was eerily silent. You had been wrong. You just hadn’t been able to hear.

The ocean was full of song.

Music rippled with the currents, overlapping in a constant chorus. An endless resonant hum of beautiful, ringing sound. It was almost dizzying.

“You hear it?” Arunio asked. One of his hands rested on your shoulder, his tail brushing against yours. “The eversong?”

You nodded slowly. “It’s beautiful.”

The words came out in the same burst of musical telepathy Arunio used. The action had been instinctive, just like using the gills on your neck.

“It is,” Arunio agreed. He took your hand and began to swim.

Your tails brushed with every stroke. Arunio would occasionally dart down to the bottom of the ocean and scoop up a shell or piece of glass and offer it to you. He was an elegant swimmer, able to perform twists and twirls. You couldn’t manage much more than just moving in a straight line.

“You’ll get better,” Arunio promised. “You just need practice”

The two of you swam for a long time. When you came up tot eh surface to get your bearings, the shore was just a thin line on the horizon. The moon had reached its zenith above you and the waves shone silver with its light.

“You need to head back soon, don’t you?” Arunio asked.

“I should,” you said. Arunio took hold of your hand and pulled you back down under the water.

“Before you go,” he said. “I wanted to sing for you. While you can really hear it.”

One of his hands rested on your shoulder and he closed his eyes. The song you’d heard many nights before began again.

This time, it made your heart leap and your chest tremble. It struck something deep inside you. Something at the junction of your throat shivered and you sang back.

The notes were weak and wavering, but the instant they came out, Arunio stopped singing. In the silence, you faltered and stopped.

Arunio made a noise of delight. “You have a beautiful voice. It’s a little weak, but you just need practice.” He moved in close, one of his hands cupping your face. “I’ll teach you.”

He kissed you and sang at the same moment and the combination of sensations was overwhelming. You felt your own voice respond, almost involuntarily. The song still felt weak, but it was earnest and Arunio responded eagerly, pressing his mouth harder against yours.

It was difficult to breathe while kissing him, you discovered, which meant that you needed to separate eventually. Arunio smiled. “We’ll need to do this again,” he said. “But now you need to go home.”

He pulled you into the shallows and placed his hands on your face again. The song vibrated through you again. When it went silent, your legs were back.

Arunio helped you out of the water, squirming up onto the beach as far as he could. You fetched your clothes and dressed quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, crouching next to him. “Thank you for that.”

He reached up for you at the same moment you reached down for him and your lips met in the middle. Arunio gave a contented sigh. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”

You watched him as he swam away until he vanished completely under the waves. Reluctantly, you returned home.

The summer continued on, and the decision grew harder and harder to make. The ocean was alluring, mysterious, and Arunio was there. But everything else you knew was on land. You didn’t really want to leave everything behind.

As it turned out, the decision was partially made for you.

You went out to meet Arunio at the shore’s edge, as you always did. He greeted you with an eager kiss, then settled down in the surf. “How was your day?”

You sighed. “Not great.” Arunio tilted his head, brows furrowing in concern. “My job is the only reason I have somewhere to live right now. But apparently, once the summer is over, the store doesn’t need as much help. So, I’m probably going to lose my job.”

“I’m sorry,” Arunio said. You weren’t sure how much he understood of the concept of a job or a house, but he at least understood that it was something to be upset about.

“I can get it back next summer. But I don’t know what to do in the meantime,” you said.

A pained smile crossed Arunio’s face. “I suppose this means you’re not going to be coming with me?” he asked. “I’ll need to head back out to deeper water soon.”

You rested your head on your knees. “I don’t know. I want to be with you. Really, I do. But everything I know is here. It would be hard to leave it all behind.”

Arunio still smiled, but his eyes were sad. “I know it must be difficult. I don’t blame you.”

“I don’t want you to go,” you said, running your fingers through his hair. “I want to be with you. But I can’t stay in the sea forever. This place is my home too…” You trailed off.

“It’s okay,” Arunio sid, though there was a small tremble in his voice. “I’ll be back. We’ll see each other again.”

“Uh huh,” you said. “Hold on. How often can a person change back and forth between merfolk and human?”

Aruino tilted his head. “There’s no set time limit. But I would suggest not doing it more than once every couple of lunes.”

“Okay,” you said. “That works.”

He looked blank. “What works?”

“I have an idea,” you said. “I don’t know if it’ll work for you, but I think it’s something we can try.” Arunio waited. “I can have the job and the house during the summer, and that’s also the time you can spend here. And when it’s not the summer, I can go with you. Out into the ocean. That way, I won’t have to leave the land behind, or you either.”

“I can stay on the shore with you in summer,” Arunio said. “We can live together. It’s a fair trade.”

“So, you’re okay with this idea?” you asked. “It works for you?”

Arunio stretched a hand up, cupped your face in his palm. “It means I can spend more time with you. Of course I’m okay with it.”

It took a few weeks to get everything set up for your journey. Personal effects needed to be stored and the few items that couldn’t be stored needed to be given to people who wouldn’t ask a lot of questions about where you were. You spun a complicated story about traveling and work and hoped people wouldn’t ask too may questions.

On the last day, you stood on the beach. It was sunset, but Arunio had found a secluded shoal where you could change in privacy.

“Are you ready?” he asked as you undressed and stepped into the waves.

“I’m ready.” He took your hand and drew you out in the water. Again, you sank beneath the waves and his hands rested on either side of your face.

The song rang through the water and your ears opened to the music of the ocean again. Arunio beamed as you flicked your tail, swimming clumsily around him.

“I’ll guide you,” he said. “It’ll take a while to get back to the pod. But it means plenty of time to practice swimming.” He hummed out a few notes that trilled with happiness. “And time to practice singing.”

You drifted closer and took his hand. “I’m looking forward to it.”

[ajoy3fanfics]

Missing PT XIII

‘You need to let him go’

That’s what Sango had told her; If she had been honest with any of her other friends, she was sure that would have been their advice too. What on Earth was she doing, hanging around an ex, the very one who shattered her heart and didn’t think twice? When he left her, he didn’t call, didn’t try to rectify his wrongs. He moved on, never looking back at the damage.

But then there he was, showing up at her doorstep, begging for a moment of her time. Just when she thought she could move on from him, he came bursting into her life, shining his attention on her and making her feel starved without it.

She shouldn’t feel that way! They were over! O-V-E-R. She had to keep reminding herself of that; He was sick, his love was sick, and all of it was just temporary.

It became a mantra; ‘he doesn’t love me, he doesn’t love me, he doesn’t love me’. Somehow, Kagome thought that if she kept repeating it, it would make it feel less real. Yet no matter how many times she mulled it over in her head, it was hard to turn away from the man she loved.

Loves?

Loved.

Her phoned vibrated and she thanked God for the distraction. Any more time spent thinking on the hanyou would lead her down a rabbit hole she didn’t dare to follow.

‘Up for a movie?’ Koga, of course. Kind and sweeter than she deserved.

She should reply quickly; it wasn’t good to leave him on read. She didn’t feel much like going out, or seeing even him for that matter. Before, she looked forward to their dates, to getting out of the house and spending time with him. Their last meeting left a heavyweight in the pit of her stomach that took days to shake. Not that he had done anything wrong- the complete opposite, really. He wanted more, wanted her and she didn’t exactly know how she felt. They were not exclusive, although she knew the wolf demon was not seeing anyone else; it put a pressure on her she wasn’t sure she was ready for. No, she and Koga were just casually dating, or at least that’s what they had agreed to; So why did it feel so much like cheating every time she thought of Inuyasha?

When she was with him, she felt like she was sneaking behind Koga’s back, and when she was with Inuyasha…

All her thoughts were on him. He was always present, her mind never cast off in a million directions. Her attention was always on him, on the way he looked, the sound of his laugh, how good he smelled or the way one corner of his mouth turned up more than the other when he smiled.

It wasn’t good to be like this, to let these feelings fester. How long was she going to let the hanyou control her? She should focus on Koga, focus on her future. She should ask Inuyasha if he ever went to his doctor's appointment.

Damn it!

She should choose Koga, chose a new path, someone who wouldn’t take her feelings for granted and run off when their relationship became rocky. Koga wasn’t like that; but then again, she didn’t think Inuyasha was either.

It was so out of character, so strange how it happened. It was as if his personality did a complete 180. Sure, his temper could be short at times, but he was never cruel. How could someone go from such a loving man to someone who turned their back so easily? By the end of their relationship, she felt like she didn’t recognize him anymore.

She was shocked to learn he was calling for her at the hospital; The desperation in his voice, the way he clung to her… she had never seen him afraid. If he lost his memory, he was working off his feelings from back then. He must have loved her, must have truly cared at some point. How could it all have gone so wrong?

It didn’t matter.

And yet it did, and it was driving her nuts!

She couldn’t just continue on like this, stuck in limbo, waiting for Inuyasha to fall out of love with her, waiting for some closure that would probably not happen.

Kagome knew what she needed to do.

She had made up her mind.

~.~

The phone buzzed, immediately catching his attention, making him put down his pencil and halt his work on the clients blue print; it seemed that no matter what he was doing, he was never too busy to respond to her texts. She did that a lot now- texting him. When they first started talking it was minimal communication; awkward and brief, only relaying the basic message that needed to be sent.  Now, she was opening up, talking about her day, her frustrations, the good parts and boring. It reminded Inuyasha of how they were, before; He dared enough to take it as a good sign.

Especially when she texted late at night. That itself was something that had him fantasizing in a million different ways. Was she lonely? Did she miss him? If she thought of him in the early hours, it must mean that she was alone and Koga wasn’t warming her bed, and that was fucking brilliant.

It drove him crazy to know that that damn wolf was still sniffing around her; He had found out that they weren’t official, but they were dating, and that alone was enough to make him rip Miroku’s couch to shreds, which, by the way, was getting fucking old. He needed to find a place and soon, but apartment hunting took so much damn time.

‘You’re going to the doctors today, right?’

Boring. He wished she would talk about anything else- what she had for lunch, the color of her panties, when he could see her next. Really, anything else; But no, his ex-fiancé was in full-on nag mode. He knew that when she was like this, there was little that could stop her.

‘Not today. Too busy. I’ll go on Friday.’ He responded, rolling his eyes as he tossed the phone on his desk. Miroku, his mom, hell, even Sesshomaru had been on him about going to get a check-up; he had meant to, but he just kept missing the appointments. How could he get to the doctors when there was so much work to do? It buzzed again, and even though he knew it would be grating, he was still thrilled to receive something, anything, from her.

‘You better to go, Inuyahsa. I mean it!’

She was concerned, that had to be a good sign, right? Kagome was worried enough about his well-being enough to argue with him about it. That had to be good, right?

‘Yeah, yeah. Thanks mom.’ He sent back, biting on the corner of his lip. He knew that it would get under her skin, but he said it anyway.

‘You better. Don’t make me get your mother involved.’

Ouch, a real fucking threat. She’d do it too, if history was any indication. Not that Kagome called his mom over petty arguments, no she wasn’t that type. His mom just fucking loved Kagome, a lot, and they always seemed to team up and back him into a corner when they were on the same page.

‘You should. She misses you.’ He sent it on impulse and regretted it immediately; he tried to keep it light, did his best to stay in the friend zone and not bring up their relationship. Yes, it was the giant elephant in the room, but he was a coward and he’d rather dance around the issue and be with her than to confront it head on. There would always be time for that some other day.

‘Yeah, I miss her too.’

He didn’t know what to say next, how to move the conversation along from there. Should he change the subject? What the hell could he talk about? His mind was racing as he panicked, his claws tapping on his wooden desk as he searched for an answer, Kagome supplying one before he could.

‘Are you busy tonight? Can we meet up?’

It felt like a mistake and an opportunity all at once.

‘Of course.’

What else could he say?

~.~

The ride back to her apartment seemed too short, at least in Inuyasha’s opinion. They had gone out for coffee, she walking and he driving to meet her. While they sat sipping it suddenly began to pour, the rain heavy on the concrete sidewalk, and Inuyasha was more than thrilled to give Kagome a lift home. It was nice to have her in the passenger seat again, to have her by his side.

He pulled up, parking in his old spot, the feeling more nostalgic than he would have thought. A simple gesture, but one that threw him back, took for granted back then. As he cut the engine, he turned to look at her, his breath-stopping, all thoughts lost.

The air felt heavy, hot. She was looking at him half-lidded and if he didn’t know better, he would have thought she wanted him. He had seen that look on her often enough, fuck it was ingrained in his mind, but she hadn’t looked at him that way, been so close to her like this in a long time, and fuck if it didn’t make him nervous. He felt like a bumbling idiot, too afraid and jittery to make a move. “L-let me grab my jacket.” He stuttered. “I-I can walk you to the door.” Kagome bit her lip and nodded and Inuyasha just about died.

Shutting his door behind him with a loud bang, he whipped around to Kagome’s door, holding his jacket high overhead to protect her from the rain. She stepped out, squeaked a bit from the weather and the two of them ran to the front steps of her apartment, the small awning making them huddle in together as they said their goodbyes.

“I should go.” He said, silver hair damp with rain, sticking against his forehead. Kagome smiled, reaching up to push away the stray locks, tucking one behind his ear, the hanyou doing his best to control his blush. Her hand rested on his cheek, cupping it tenderly as she searched his amber eyes, looking for hesitation, looking for recognition, for truth or love- she wasn’t sure anymore.

“Kagome,” he breathed out, covering her petite hand with his own. “I-“

She cut him off, unwilling to let him finish lest she lose her nerve. The kiss was slow and tentative at first, an underlying hunger they were too afraid to indulge in. When they broke away, quickly, much too quickly, Inuyasha knew he was panting and he didn’t care; Kagome’s hands had traveled down, grasping his muscular arms like they were her lifeline. Had her eyes looked this blue before? Had her lips been so full, so plump? Her scent so spicy and alluring? Everything about her in this moment set his senses in overdrive, leaving him feeling both drugged and charged for more.

“Don’t go.” She pleaded, her tone hinting that she was worried. As if he could turn away.

“Are you sure?” He asked, the words sounding foreign to his own ears. This had to be a dream. And to his utter surprise, she nodded, clutching him harder, her eyes never leaving his.

She didn’t have to ask him twice.  

~.~

A/N: Hey guys! I am super happy about getting to this point, and even more excited for the next chapter! Thanks for sticking with the story and reading! I hope everyone had a great holiday and has a happy new year!

[dcbbw]

Timing--Part 10 (Girl Talk)

Welcome to Part 10 of my fanfic series. It’s my version of events once the gang travels to LA to find Tariq. In my version, he refused to come forward and Riley made a painful decision, and we are just going forward from there. In this part, Madeleine and Riley have a face to face. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please excuse any typos and/or grammatical errors

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Song Inspiration: New Amsterdam, The Love Language: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YTFtY266ayE

Word Count: 4117 (longish)

Tagging: @gennesaret @sirbeepsalot @aworldoffandoms @katedrakeohd @hopefulmoonobject @simsvetements @cora-nova @carabeth @custaroonie @liamxs-world @lauradowning29 @speedyoperarascalparty @thequeenofcronuts @wickedgypsymoon

Riley x Madeleine

Riley sat at her dressing table, wrapped in a towel, fixing her hair. She had just stepped out from a long, hot shower and the soap scented steam was still wafting from the bathroom. She frowned at herself in the mirror as she silently prayed for her hair to cooperate today. Please, please, please act right today. Today was the day she got her reputation back. The interview/press release was scheduled to be held in 3 hours, and then the Slutty Suitor would be dead. Thank God. She would be free. She and Liam could finally be together. Really together. She still found it hard to believe how much had happened in less than a week. Timing.

As she ran a comb through her still damp hair, her glance fell upon her neck. The bruises and hickeys were fading, but still somewhat noticeable. Gotta do something about that. She took a moment to look her neck over carefully. As wonderful as it felt when Liam left his mark on her there, be it with his lips or his hand, it was going to have to end. She could very well be the next Queen of Cordonia. She wanted to be remembered for her leadership, her love of the people…not her love of scarves.

She finally got her hair under control and proceeded with her morning routine. Lotion, perfume, underwear, hosiery and slip. She decided to forego a full makeup application since the television studio would apply her makeup, and had just finished applying her eyeliner when she heard a knock at the door.

Too early for breakfast. Liam had asked her last night what she wanted for breakfast, as he had done every night since the beginning of the engagement tour. He had suggested they share the meal together as a way to celebrate their freedom, but Riley wanted to wait until after the interview so as not to jinx anything. Not that Riley was superstitious, but if she learned nothing else in Cordonia, it was that you never knew who was pulling the strings, or when things would turn on a dime. Besides, breakfast was her time, and she did not share that time with anyone: not Liam, not Maxwell, not Hana.

Thinking it was Maxwell, Riley called, “Come in!”

The door opened and Madeleine walked in. She looked over at Riley, eyebrow arching as she spoke. “Well, well, well…if it isn’t the woman who is going to ruin Cordonia.”

Riley looked at the other woman. Madeleine looked magnificent. A white linen suit with black piping on the jacket cuffs and the skirt hem, a black silk shell, black heels, and a black pillbox hat with a dotted veil that covered her face. Underneath the hat, her hair was pulled back in an elegant chignon and her signature red lipstick adorned her lips. “Madeleine, you look very regal.”

“Every inch the Queen I will never get to be, huh?” Madeleine’s tone was sardonic.

“I concede you would have made a good Queen.” Riley’s tone was calm. What the hell is she doing here? “Ummm….look, as great as it is to see you so early in the morning, Madeleine, why are you here?”

“Just a talk.” Madeleine dropped her purse and hat in one of the plush oversized chairs in the room, and sat elegantly in another, her legs crossed at the ankles. “I should have known you would not stop until you got what you wanted.” She looked at Riley as she spoke, her face giving nothing away.  

As much as Riley wanted to keep up a cool and collected facade with Madeleine, the anger and frustration she felt mounting at her unexpected visitor’s appearance came through as she responded. “I wanted to clear my name! What the fuck, Madeleine?”

“You could have cleared your name, and still allowed me to be Queen. “ Madeleine’s tone held the slightest accusation in it. 

“You can try and hate me all you want, Maddy but it was Liam who broke it off with you. Not me. And lest you forget, he broke it off with me first. In front of the entire court. At least he gave you the respect of privacy.” Riley tamped down the slither of jealousy that still crawled through her when she remembered the night of Liam’s Coronation.

“You could have accepted the arrangement. You could have convinced Liam to accept it. I have never had any part of Liam. Ever. I just wanted to be Queen to the King. You could have been the wife; not lawfully, but where it mattered…behind closed doors.” Madeleine’s voice had a slight edge to it. “Everything I have worked my entire life for just fell in your lap.”

 She cannot be serious. “I worked twice as hard as any lady during the social season! I battled my ignorance of Cordonia and its customs, the ignorance of this Court, and had my name and reputation slandered. The other ladies had history and connections with Liam that I will never have. You had the favor of the King Father and Queen Mother! Nothing just landed in my lap.”

Madeleine snorted. “You had the favor of Liam himself.”

“A lot of good that did me.”

“And yet you are still in love with him.”

“Because it was the circumstances he found himself in! Just like you…you want to hate someone for circumstances beyond your control. Open your eyes…you are loving Cordonia the wrong way. Maybe you can do more for Cordonia now that you won’t be Queen.”

Madeleine let out a soft sigh. “Riley, I have told you this before, and I am going to repeat it. I do not hate you.”

“Really? So you’re here this morning to accuse me of preventing you from being Queen because you don’t hate me? You asked me to pick up your wedding ring because we’re besties?” Riley’s tone was sarcastic.

Madeleine shifted in the chair as if to get more comfortable. “I’m a pissed off person, who says and does pissed off things, to piss other people off.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“All I’m saying is yes, I tend to cut deeply, but always with a dull blade.”

“Picking up that wedding ring cut me like a double edged sword.” Riley closed her eyes to stave off the flood of emotions that coursed through her as she remembered that day

Riley wandered into the jewelry shop, a mix of sadness, jealousy and anger running through her blood. She literally had to stop and compose herself before she could make it to the counter. When she lifted her head to head to the store manager, she saw the back of a man standing at the counter, perusing the jewelry locked beneath the glass. “Oh crap! It’s Drake. I would recognize that denim shirt anywhere”, Riley muttered under her breath as she continued to put one foot in front of the other, although the only thing she wanted to do was run back out the door and never return.

Drake turned as he heard someone come up behind him. “Brooks”, he said surprised. “Hey Drake.” Riley pushed her emotions aside, and slid into her friendly mask as easily as she could blink her eyes. The toll this….task was taking on her emotions was hers, and she was not in the mood to share.

Drake leaned back against the counter, arms folded across his chest “What brings you here?”

“I could ask the same of you”, she replied with a grin.

“Just looking for a wedding present for Liam.”

“In a jewelry shop?”

“Why not?” he asked defensively.

Riley laid a placating hand on his arm. “Just teasing, Big Guy.”

“So what are you doing here?” Drake asked curiously.

Drawing in a deep breath, Riley responded. “Picking up Madeleine’s wedding ring.”

Drake’s face fell, but his tone was hard. “Even for Madeleine, this is cold. A pretty low blow.”

Riley shrugged. “It is what it is. I just didn’t think their wedding date would arrive so quickly.”

“We’ll find Tariq, Brooks. We have to.” Drake’s tone was determined.

Riley smiled sadly at him, and turned to the manager, who hurried to the back room, returning with a black velvet ring box. Drake joined her as she opened the box to see the simple gold band inlaid with a pave of diamonds. Simple. Elegant. Classy. She blinked her eyes rapidly to stave off the burn of her tears.

“Huh”, Drake said. “I expected something more pretentious.”

“It’s beautiful”, Riley breathed. “You know, this is definitely not how I figured my wedding ring shopping day to go.”  And then she cried. Quietly at first, but then she felt her body heaving with the weight of the tears spilling from her eyes. The store manager discreetly went into the back room to give Riley and Drake some privacy. Drake’s strong arms went around her and held her tightly to his chest while he rubbed her back.

“Get it all out, Brooks.”

“I just thought….I thought….I wanted it to be me!” She sobbed into Drake’s shoulder.

“Nothing is set in stone just yet.”

“Why couldn’t he have picked me?? Why not me?”

Drake was at a loss for words, his anger and frustration against Liam choking off any words of reassurance. “Cordonia”, he said helplessly.

“Fuck Cordonia.”

Drake continued to rub Riley’s back fighting every urge he had to confess his feelings to her. “You and me both, Brooks.”

They stayed that way for a few more minutes, holding each other as Riley got herself together. “Thank you, Drake”, she said softly. “You are such a good friend to me.”

“Yeah, that’s me, the good friend.”

Something in his tone made her step back and search his face. “Drake, you do want to be friends, right?”

She knew Drake had felt something for her since that night at Applewood but he was the one who said that nothing could ever happen between them because of his friendship with Liam, and Liam’s feelings for her. So she had focused all of her attentions and efforts on Liam, and now here they were. All of them.

Drake looked into her eyes, red and puffy, and clearly concerned that she would lose both Liam and Drake.” I wouldn’t be friends with anyone else, Brooks.” He placed a light kiss on her forehead. “So how about we grab that ring, and you help me find my best friend a wedding gift?”

Riley opened her eyes and looked Madeleine squarely in the face. “I do not think I will ever fully forgive you for that. You proved to me that day that you were cold, calculating, and cunning. While I appreciate your…transparency, I tend to shy away from such levels of negativity.”

Madeleine looked contrite, but her voice was determined, with a hint of defensiveness. “I am practical, proactive, and need to know exactly who I am dealing with. I have no time for the niceties of Court, or the people who occupy it. I need to know who you are when tested, so I can prepare accordingly.”

“Prepare what?” Is she like a secret Olivia with dungeons and weapons?

“Myself. I was blindsided once. That will never happen again.” Madeleine’s voice was quiet and her gaze shifted from Riley’s face to the window.

Riley glanced at the wall clock and saw the time. Breakfast was coming! “Look, Maddy, as fascinating this trainwreck of a conversation has been, my breakfast is coming, and I need you to leave.”

“What’s coming with breakfast? Or should I ask who?” Madeleine asked suspiciously as her eyes narrowed.

Shit. “It isn’t what’s coming with breakfast, it is what I do during breakfast.”

A thin smile spread across Madeleine’s face. “Oh, this I have to hear! What do you do during breakfast?”

When did Madeleine become so nosy? Riley huffed. “Okay, fine. Liam orders breakfast for me every morning. When it comes, I sit in bed wearing a tiara while I eat it. I started doing it during the engagement tour. If I couldn’t be Queen, I could still be a princess.” Riley looked sheepish. “So now can you please leave?”

Madeleine stood there, looking at Riley for a long moment before she spoke. “I wanna be a breakfast princess too!”

“We are not friends, Madeleine! I don’t even share this with my friends!” Riley protested.

“I need a not friend.” Madeleine’s voice was steady, but her eyes were plaintive.

“A what now?”

“A not friend…someone you can speak freely with, and not worry about the judgment and the well-meaning bullshit friends say when they think they are helping you. I just want to grieve and vent and whatever else, without someone trying to pick me up or help me move on. Sometimes, a person just wants to stay stuck because life moves you along regardless, whether you’re ready to move forward or not.” Madeleine paused as she hugged herself, looking at the floor. “So, can I please be a breakfast princess with you, while we are not friends for a little while?”

Damnit! “Only because you gave my morning ritual a pretty cool name. You can undress in the closet; bring back two tiaras.”

Madeleine’s face lit up with a genuine smile as she clapped her hands together in excitement. “Be right back.”

Madeleine came back into the room stripped down to her slip, wearing a silver tiara on her head. She gave Riley the gold one.

“Are these real? They feel a little heavy. “

“I don’t think so. If they are, then I practically stole them from the shop proprietor with the price I paid. Picked them up at a trinket shop in Italy.”

Madeleine climbed into the bed beside Riley, plumping the pillows behind her. “Do we know what’s for breakfast?”

“Sausage, eggs, potatoes, fruit, toast, coffee, and I may have requested the makings for mimosas.”

As she continued to plump and adjust her pillows, Madeleine caught sight of the bruising on Riley’s neck and her eyes went wide. “What the hell happened to you?”

Riley gave her a knowing smile and said, “We like it rough.”

“Rough is handcuffs and anal. That is beyond rough….you look like you were mauled by some vampire werewolf hybrid! You two are barbaric.” Madeleine rolled her eyes.

Riley giggled at Madeleine’s tone of exaggerated shock. “There are a lot of moving parts at play here. Part of it is we do like it rough at times; part of it is we both get caught up in the passion. But the biggest part…”Riley’s voice grew thoughtful and her face scrunched in concentration as she tried to find the right words. “The biggest part is it is his way of letting me and others know I am his, that we are together. He cannot give me a ring yet to show the world how he feels, so he “marks” me to compensate. For him, he enjoys when I “mark” him because of the passion behind it, but I think he also wants to show he is desired as a man, not just as King.”

“Well, that’s just pathetic. And weird.”

Riley shrugged. “We all need validation in some form or another.”

“There are other places one can be marked.”

“He wants it to be known, to be seen.”

“And he is the one leading this country….” Madeleine shook her head.

The ladies were interrupted by a light knock on the door, followed by two servants entering with the breakfast cart. One of the servant’s eyes grew slightly wide at seeing Countess Madeleine wearing a tiara sitting in bed with Lady Riley, but she quickly composed herself, busying herself with setting up the breakfast trays while the other began preparing plates of food.

Riley smiled at both the ladies. “Good morning! Can we have mimosas to drink, instead of coffee? Leave the coffee though. We’ll probably need that after mimosas.”

“Of course, m’lady. His Majesty reminds you to meet him in an hour in the grand foyer to ensure arriving at the television studio with time to spare.”

“Of course. Thank you.” Riley nodded at the servants, who nodded back, and left the room.

Madeleine was nibbling on pineapple chunks as she cut her sausage. “What’s it like? Being in love with Liam? Having him be in love with you?”

Riley’s eyes narrowed as she turned to look at Madeleine. “Don’t you remember telling me being with Liam was like living a fairytale?”

Madeleine looked at her blankly. “I said that?”

“You did.” Riley ate a huge forkful of breakfast meat and potatoes.

Madeleine shrugged. “I was being a bitch.”

Riley sighed at Madeleine, but a smile spread over her face as she thought of Liam. “Being in love with Liam is what being in love with anyone is like. He completes my happiness, and I want to complete his. I want to be with him all the time, and in all ways. He makes me want to be a better person. I want to make him smile, I want to wipe his tears. I want him.... qualities, flaws and all.”

“Was there another you considered before choosing Liam?” Madeleine bit into a piece of toast.

Riley was silent a moment too long. “Maybe. But when I was ready to explore, they weren’t. Then the engagement tour tore me apart. I couldn’t stand having pieces of Liam here and there. Perfect time to explore options, but by then, I was head over heels for Liam, so nothing ever came of it.” Riley took a swallow of her mimosa. “Did you know I was planning to return to America? If Tariq had not come forward….I couldn’t watch him marry you.”

“He told me. You would have left him, when you just said you wanted his happiness. You make him happy.”

“Staying here would have made all of us miserable. I can’t see him with another, and if I were to find someone else, that would break his heart.” Riley looked into her glass. “He says I am his first love, and I know he is my last. If today weren’t happening, it would have been best to leave. Let us both pick up the pieces of our hearts and lives, and start over. Without each other.”

Madeleine drained her glass. “I want more champagne.”

“No orange juice?”

“I am done pretending with these drinks.”

As Riley poured more champagne for her, Madeleine prompted, “And having Liam be in love with you?”

“Having Liam in love with me means breakfast in bed with tiaras every morning, flowers every 4 days so I never have to see them die, moments when he talks my ear off, and moments of silence. It means learning to communicate with cryptic phrases and looks, instead of actual words. I have not had much of the fairytale yet, but for me, he is the fairytale.”

Riley turned to fully look at Madeleine. “How was he with you during the engagement tour?”

Madeleine ate some eggs before answering. “He treated me solicitously enough, but in the way a distant cousin treats you when you visit for the summer. They’re nice enough, they take you around, introduce you to their friends, but you know they would rather be with their friends than with you.”  

Madeleine pursed her lips as she debated something internally. “Can I tell you something?”

Riley nodded as she sipped her mimosa.

“Do you know why I wanted to be Queen so badly?”

“Your love and devotion to Cordonia?”

“I do love my country, but the real reason was so Leo would have to bow to me. Give me the respect he never gave me as a woman. Now that I won’t be Queen, I will never get what is owed me.” Madeleine’s voice held hints of regret and sadness.

“Bowing to a monarch is not respect; it’s protocol. Insurgents have been known to kneel, Madeleine.”

“Whatever it is, he would have had to give it to me.”

“Do you really think he left because of you?”

“Why do you think he left?” Madeleine asked curiously.

“Well, I do not know the complete story, so my opinion is a bit lacking in context, but I think Leo left because he fears responsibility. He fled the Crown, not you. Marriage to you was a casualty of war.”

“He could’ve taken me with him!” Madeleine said it softly, but it had the impact of a yell.

“Would you really have given up Cordonia for Leo?”

Madeleine looked at Riley, tears forming in her eyes. “Leo was my Liam.”

Riley’s breath caught in her throat. She had no words. Instead she set her tray aside, and reached in to hug Madeleine. Madeleine resisted for a moment, but eventually leaned into the hug, shuddering with silent sobs.

After a few minutes, Riley ventured a question. “Do you ever get over it? Does the wound ever heal?” She asked softly.

“No.” Madeleine’s response was muffled.

After a few more minutes, Riley whispered, “It’s time to get ready. Are you okay enough to do that?”

“I will be.” Madeleine pulled away and reached to take off her tiara. She held it out to Riley mutely.

“Would you like to keep it? Maybe start your own breakfast princess tradition?”

“Really?” Madeleine eyed Riley warily.

“Really! Every woman deserves to start their day as a princess.” Riley smiled at her warmly.

Madeleine smiled shyly. “Thank you, I think I would like that.”

The women headed into the closet, where they dressed in comfortable silence. Riley was wearing a black calf length dress with a matching jacket. She reached into a drawer to pull out a white scarf with a black paisley design. Silver earrings lay on the dressing table to complete the ensemble.

Madeleine came over to the dressing table. “Don’t wear the scarf…it will just draw attention your neck. Use makeup to camouflage, and wear these to draw attention to the neckline. In addition, it will symbolize your loyalty to Liam.” She held up a longer strand of oversized pearls. “And wear these as well.” She placed a pair of tear drop pearl earrings on the table, and began helping Riley apply concealer to her neck. When they were done, the two women locked eyes in the mirror, Madeleine’s hands resting on Riley’s shoulders. She cleared her throat before she spoke.

“From this day forward, it is going to be on you to know and remember these things. I wish I could tell you more, but this is what I know about him.” Riley nodded silently, waiting for Madeleine to continue.

“He runs late for everything court related, especially if he has Maxwell with him. You’ll need to be by his side when he gives speeches; he still has not learned to expect the unexpected, so anything that he is not prepared to answer renders him speechless. He does not think well on his feet. You have to do it for him. He prefers scotch to whiskey. Oh, he will drink whiskey with Drake, but alone, he always chooses scotch. And he loves you. Deeply. Madly. Completely.”

“Thank you.” Riley smiled at Madeleine in the mirror.

“Yes, yes. Let’s go before I get blamed for making everyone late.” Madeleine began gathering her belongings when there was a knock at the door, before the guards entered to escort the ladies downstairs.

As the ladies walked down the hall, flanked by the guards, Riley looked over at Madeleine. “You know, we are not friends.”

With a small smile Madeleine reached to grab Riley’s hand. “Nope, we aren’t”. Riley glanced down, then back up at Madeleine.

“A united front for Cordonia. It’s definitely not friends though.” Riley shook her head as she took Madeleine’s hand.

Madeleine looked over at Riley and her glance fell to her neck. She marveled at how well the makeup and pearls hid the markings.  “Rough, huh? How rough? Whips? Thigh high boots with your heel on his neck?  I need details!”

“Shut up, Madeleine.” Riley continued walking, looking straight ahead while suppressing a smile.

“Long live Kinky King”, Madeleine murmured.

“Not friends, Madeleine!”

[homogrimoire-archive]

11 Nighmares

Grimmlord's Castle / Iron Soliton

General Ironwood, man of an Iron Will, will see that Atlas remains alive, even at the cost of his own life.

(A continuation to Ironwood's chapter, the sixth chapter, from my other series "The Remnant Branches." But if you didn't read that, I certainly wouldn't blame you if you didn't b/c it's niche, this will be kinda batsh*t crazy. But, if you can put up with that and want some canon-divergent Ironwood content, then here you go.)

AO3 Link

Salem was here. And she would destroy them all very soon if he did not act. He tried to ensure they would be safe, by soaring high into the planet’s atmosphere. But, that wonderful plan was made obsolete, thanks to Ruby and her team swaying Penny. He desperately wished she would have listened to him. But, the past is absolute. There is no changing what was.

After learning that the Ace Ops were bested by team RWBY and that Winter lost the Maiden powers unto Penny, he issued that he wanted them and their friends captured and brought to Atlas. They were no doubt already in Mantle by then.

Despite everything, he still wanted them alive and on Atlas for when Penny helped it arise, whether or not any of them liked it. They were strong people, people who needed to live. He wasn’t going to let them throw away their lives. But, they had strong wills of their own, desires that opposed his.

In a sense, he could respect their fortitude. Well, he had to respect it. Not accounting for it would only lead to undesirable results. Aside from them being powerful assets, he still could not fully explain why he wanted them so badly. Atlas would certainly live on without them, and there was no shortage of capable fighters. There was no use dwelling on that though. A new plan was in motion, one that occurred to him after killing Oz, one that that he wasn’t exactly sure would work, but had great faith in nonetheless.

And then came the news that Qrow and Robyn were en route, along with body of the deceased Ace Ops leader. Murdered by Qrow no less. On top of that, there was an escaped member of Salem’s Circle roaming around. It was unfortunate, but the fact that Qrow killed him struck him as odd. Ironwood knew he wasn’t that kind of man. He didn’t give it too much thought, for he was sure the issue would be resolved in time.

To prepare for his new plan, he had a new of weapon made: a large sword made from a melted down Due Process. That, and a small aircraft, was all he needed. He issued the finding of Penny to be of the highest priority. If he failed, if his will and soul were not strong enough, she had to lift Atlas into the air, lest it an Mantle both fall

Next, he needed to speak with Winter to inform her. In a short time, she would become an important part of Atlas, more so than before. He knew that she would live up to her duty. At first, she rejected it. But, she was soon convinced. She understood who the General is, and what he has promised to do. She knows she can’t stop him, even if she might want to.

After that, Qrow. He is brought to an interrogation room from his cell. He seemed sad, almost the saddest he had ever seen Qrow. He looked so defeated. That was until he saw who was interrogating him, and his expression changed. It was one of pure hatred. He’d seen that type of look quite a few times in his life, but on Qrow… it was truly disheartening.

“What do you want?” he spat out.

“To say goodbye.” he plainly told Qrow.

“What? You really think it’ll be that easy to kill me?”

“I’m not sending you to your execution.” James sighed.

“Well thaaank you for your generosity, General.” Qrow replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“I never told you my semblance, have I?” James questioned him.

“I think you know the answer to that, General.” Again, general. It seemed strange to find that odd. He always requested for Qrow to refer to him properly. And here he did it not once, but twice in a row.

“My semblance is Willpower. It—”

“An iron will for the General with an iron fist. What a surprised.” Qrow deadpanned.

“… It, is a semblance that can make my will a reality. Ever wonder how I survived in the first place? Now you know.”

“Yeah. Good for you.” He said in a rushed manner.

“But all power comes at a cost, and sometimes, my power cost more than just replenishable aura.” Ironwood elaborated. Qrow looked surprised, likely imagining the implications of what Ironwood just said. But, his uncaring facade soon replaced the shock.

“And why, are you telling me this? I could care less. A lot of people are dead because of you.” Qrow told him, his voice wavering, building up with hatred and despair. “And so many more are going to die because of you. Clover, is dead because of you.”

“And that, I am sorry for. I truly am… Qrow, you—”

Ironwood was cut off by a screaming Qrow who launched himself at him, having somehow broken free of his handcuffs. He expected nothing less of Qrow, honestly. There were no guards at the door, since James requested the utmost privacy, and were unlikely to notice the commotion anyways since the room was soundproof. No one would be coming either since the utmost privacy he requested involved no video feed to be online.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you right now you sorry excuse of a man!” he yelled as he pinned Ironwood down, holding a small but sharp knife to his throat.

It was likely something he managed to keep hidden thanks to the all to quick prisoner processing that had to occur. Additionally, it was not as easy as it looked to resist Qrow. He was much stronger than he seemed. So, he stopped resisting. He knew he would be fine, and he knew why.

“You’re a good man, Qrow. You’re a good man. One in a bad world. You know what you’re doing, so if this will soothe your soul, then go ahead and kill me.”

Ironwood knew that much about Qrow. Even when he was a terrible alcoholic, it was evident he was a good man. Just ask his real family, and they’ll attest to that. Even now, when rage-induced, grief filled his eyes, James could still see that he was a good man. Qrow was someone who couldn’t bring himself to take a life and live with it so easily, even a life such as his. James could see the surprise in his eyes

“Put your hands in the air!” a soldier ordered Qrow as he burst through the door. Qrow paid no mind to the soldier, and leaned in closer to James, whispering one final thing to him.

“I hate you.” Qrow leaned in and whispered. In a flurry of feathers, Qrow flew past the guards and into the hall. The guard rushed to the general, notifying others of the escapee on with his scroll.

“Sir, are you alright? Did you receive any injuries?” he asked, kneeling down beside the general.

“…” James wasn’t sure why, but to hear Qrow say that in such a way hurt him more than anything.

“Sir?” the soldier repeated in a more concerned tone.

“I’m fine,” he assured, snapping himself out his his daze, “and let him go.” he ordered the guard. James knew he was a fool to think he could try to keep a Branwen contained. Qrow would be fine. He was sure of that. “Any status updates for me?”

“Yes!” he enthusiastically answered. “Penny and her entourage have been captured.”

“Good. Make sure they cannot escape and that Penny is at Winter’s side. Now, report back to your post.”

“Understood, sir!” he saluted, and did as ordered.

Thankfully, that had gone as plan. All things were in now in place. A new weapon, an iron will unmatched. If that failed. Atlas and Qrow’s kids would be safe high in the sky, closer to the stars than anyone had previously been.

“Goodbye Qrow.” he said to the empty room. He felt warm tears running down his face. Why am I crying? he wondered as he wiped them away. Why does this hurt? He had though he had forsaken humanity.

-

After finally shaving and retrieving his new weapon, James left for the hangar, all alone, to enact his plan. He believed it would work, for it had to work. He didn’t want to leave the people of Mantle to die, but if worse came to worse, then it would be so. But, he was the General, and would be a hero unto many, a solitary hero who believes he knows no love, and believes it is too late for him.

-

Salem could sense that her Grimm were being killed by something. Someone. They were just barely noticeable. Just barely human. It was intriguing, to say the least. It was in no way concerning though. Within the whale beast, there lied someone whose efforts would be for naught. They were only coming to meet their demise.

It was unfortunate her underlings weren’t there to take care of them for her. But, it would be a nice warm up to her up and coming victory. Oh how much fear would spread from the fall of Atlas, the pinnacle of humanity. It brought a warm smile to her face, out of joy and the sheer irony of it. Pinnacle of all that is terrible in humanity wrapped in it’s grandest creations. In all her years of life, she had come to enjoy the little things such as this.

Ahh, her visitor had arrived. To her delight, it was the dear General Ironwood himself. Truly a wonderful way to begin the coming days. Already, parts of his clothes were torn, and blood dripped from a few cuts and scrapes. His hair was messy, dripping with sweat. He honestly looked like a mess.

“A pinnacle of humanity: denial. The pleasure to meet you is all mine, General Ironwood.” she greeted with a bow.

“Die!” he greeted back, lunging at her with great speed. Effortlessly, she dodged the first strike, and the next, and the next.

“Tell me, should I keep you alive so you can watch all your efforts burn to the ground? Or should I just kill you?” she asked him all while nonchalantly avoiding the strike of the sword.

“Die! Die! Die!”

“I think I’ll keep you alive. I am intrigued as to why you seem… different.” she told him.

Salem had seen practically all facets the of humanity that have existed. She recognized that the general was someone who believed they had given up their humanity, and focused all their might to a single cause. This berserker state was indeed powerful, but a mere child’s tantrum to her. Still, she respected that he managed to actually shed most of his humanity, most of his soul. For what?

Still, that fact was concerning. Was it instead that humanity found a viable way to masks their souls from Grimm? Was this some one off, freak incident brought on by his cybernetic state? Or was this just his semblance. That trait of the new humans often proved to be most annoying. Regardless, she knew she would find out the nature of this soon enough..

“Kill! Kill! Kill!” he shouted at her after she flung him away. At his command, the weapon moved, as if by magic. That was a genuine surprise. There was no gravity dust on him that would allow him to preform the feat. She could see that.

“Well, aren’t you interesting? This has been nice, but I think it’s time to end this, James. I do have plans to see through” she announced. She rushed towards him, and grabbed him by his throat, floating to lift him off the gound.

This close, she could see that his eyes were like that of a dead man: soulless. Yet, he was very much alive. He thrashed about. The sword flung itself towards her from behind. It missed, embedding itself in an artificial leg. Still, he showed no pain. Not particularly surprising.

“So foolish. What could have possibly possessed you to believe you could win? Let me tell you something.” she said as she brought him in closer. But, before she could tell him, the sword swiftly removed itself from the leg and went straight through her chest, jutting out of her back.

BloodBloodBloodBlood went through her mind. It was not a thought of her own. Black blood covered the large weapon, and it looked as if it were soaking it in.

MeatMeatMeatMeat Again, another thought not her own. This time, she could hear the general whispering it as her hand still gripped him by his throat. His voice was not the source of the thought. He alone was its source. His weapon, extension of the self, was the source.

She could feel her body weakening. This was not good. For the first time in a very long time she felt fear. Quickly, she regained her senses and tore the wretched thing from her body. Pain was something she had mostly lost long ago. It wasn’t easy to make her feel pain.

Unwittingly, she dropped the general. He fell to the floor, and then picked himself up as he gasped for breath.

“IronIronIronIron.” she could hear the insane and wretched man whisper in-between breaths.

Swiftly, she summoned spikes from the whale Grimm’s skin and used them to impale the man. Like her, pain did not seem to matter to him. Once she recovered, she picked up the wretched, and now, respected weapon. She could feel its desire to move at his will. But it was weak now, negligible, like the force of a small magnet.

“Any last words?” she asked him, raising the sword to his chest. He did not resist, nor try to escape. He accepted his fate. That was always an interesting sight, to see the despair of someone who admitted ultimate defeat.

He looked up to the sky, and noticed it’s breathtaking hues. In the distance, he could see Atlas and Mantle, picturesque despite the looming danger. And the white snow, it created a landscape he never really took the time to appreciate.

“The world. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked her, and smiled. “I should have appreciated it more.” Overhead, a flock of Nevermore cawed. “Loved it more…” he finished with a remorseful look on his face as he lowered his head. If only he hadn’t deluded himself with dreams of grandeur, to be a incomparable hero and exist in a world that didn’t exist. Reality is a beautiful place full of love, more so than any dream. One only has to look and hope.

With a wicked smile on her face, she thrusted the sword through his heart. Through the Grimm spikes, she felt his body go limp, felt the release of death take him. She released the spikes, and let the empty vessel fall to the floor. With her back now turned away from his body and facing the city, she studied the wretched weapon. A long, long time ago, she would have used it on herself in hopes of true death. She thinks it might have worked. But now, she has a goal that is not just her death, but the death of everything, even if her attempts might be futile.

Salem could hear a rumbling from beneath. It was not something of her creation. She heard the ice below break, and something pierced Monstra, causing it to groan out in pain. It knocked her off balance, making her fall to her feet. She looked to the sides, and saw pillars of iron rising up and into the sky. They met high up in the air, and coalesced into the form of a flower. She understood that this was the power of a soul unrestrained, one of the most powerful and difficult forms of magic to achieve control of and harness. She had barely even tapped into it with her SEW experiments.

The flower morphed into a wall, and slammed downwards. She attempted to block it with a barrier, but it was shattered as if were a hammer to thin glass. The wall pushed Monstra down, sending it to the icy ground beneath. The iron reformed itself once more, breaking up into many claws to drag Monstra and Salem to freeze beneath the ice. The whale groaned and struggled, but was no match for the willed iron.

She knew she was no match for this thing, yet. So, all she could do was save the power stored within the whale. It was filled with resources she would simply rather not lose. She began an incantation, a large-scale teleportation spell. She hated that she was forced to retreat, but, the opportunity to obtain the relic of creation would arise again.

However, she was interrupted by a bar of cold iron piercing her. Again, she could feel it weakening her. She screamed and cursed the wretched iron. Swiftly, she preformed a lesser version of the spell so that she could escape.

She fell to her knees when she was back at her Citadel, her breathing heavy. She yelled, slamming her fist on the ground over and over again. Still, how could she have let such a loss happen? Only a miniscule portion of Monstra remained… and the dead body of the General. Rage filled every part of her body, a rage that paralleled that kind she felt so long ago. She wanted to pummel the body to an indistinguishable pulp of blood, flesh, bone, and metal. But, she stopped herself from doing that.

“This is an opportunity!” she laughed. This was the opportunity to create something so wretched, something that could rival even the Hound! Surpass it even! And now, she had that wretched iron in Atlas that she could harness someday!

She joyfully laughed as she imagined the possibilities. With a material such as that, perhaps she could really kill the brother gods. Once they were gone, then there wasn’t anything that would stand in her way. She’ll admit it might be wishful thinking, but it would still prove an invaluable resource regardless if she could control it. And there was so much of it, that she could make whatever to her heart’s content. She also realized that if the metal could make her feel that way, it could perhaps put a stop to Ozma for good too.

Suddenly, the loss of Monstra didn’t seem so bad. Yes, she had put a lot of resources into the thing, but it was merely frozen beneath the ice. It could always be retrieved, or perhaps used for a surprise attack on Atlas in the future. And now, she would have an invaluable and shiny new metal in due time, and a wonderful little toy soldier to play with meanwhile. She grabbed the body by its shirt collar and dragged it beside her as she walked back to the castle where she and her direct underlings resided.

She would be sure to let Watts play with the dear General if he returned. He deserved it for his loyalty, and for surviving if he did. Besides, he was probably one of the few people who could help her with such an endeavor. She did not have a knack for the technologies of the new humans, nor did she like how prideful and arrogant he was. It reminded her of her father, may he rot in hell. But, at least he was useful to her, and obedient.

Tyrian would be sure to return in due time. She knew that. He would honestly only die if she allowed it. Truthfully, she did like him the most of her current followers. He was among her favorites of all time too. He was just so eager to please her, and he loved what he did too. It wasn’t often she had such a devout follower. If the world was full of Tyrians and the like, she might actually not want to destroy everything and die. Might. She wondered how she would reward him when he returned. Even if her plan failed, he, and Watts performed wonderfully.

Cinder was Cinder. Annoying at times, but predictable and and rather easy to manipulate. Salem detested her insubordinate tendencies, but she had drive. Salem could respect that. She was, unfortunately, also very necessary to her plans, currently. She was sure the girl would return eventually, one way or another, presumably with a gift in hand and probably with a new “asset” or two in tow.

Then there was Hazel. She found that she liked him to. They shared many of the same hatreds, well, mostly Ozma. Still, it was nice to talk with someone about how much they hated Ozma. He did as he was told, and hardly acted out of line. His only real weakness was his soft spot for children, which had proved infuriating only a few times. It was another thing she could relate to though. She too wanted a world where they would not suffer and be the playthings of immortals or gods.

Sometimes, she wished to tell him the truth. She felt that he deserved to know. That was because the last shred of humanity within her that held mercy, regret, and sorrow. She hated it. That same humanity wanted to tell him and see him break just so it could finally rest. Yet, she never did tell him.

-

Mantle and its shining younger sibling Atlas watched in horror and awe as the Grimm of incomparable size was dragged down to a watery grave by the unknown force. They saw the iron rise up into the sky and form a flowering star, watched as it morphed into a wall in attempt to cleave the giant whale Grimm. Even though it was their savior, they watched it in fear.

Qrow observed it from far away while in the sky. He had a feeling Ironwood was somehow behind it He wondered how a semblance, a single soul, could be so powerful.

Winter, Penny, and the Ace Ops watched it from the General’s office. Winter lamented the loss of Ironwood. She wanted to hope he wasn’t gone, but to hope for that would be a waste. She knew she there were far greater things to worry about now. Until she could confirm that the whale Grimm was decommissioned, the people of Mantle were still in danger.

Winter considered that they could perhaps be saved now, in case the whale Grimm and Salem could still attack. It was worth a shot now. With no time to waste, she got to work.

-

A month had passed. There was no sign of the whale or Salem despite the extensive search. Ozpin, however, was sure that Salem escaped. He had apologized to them, for having hidden the truth for so long. They had gotten nationwide comms back online. All that was left was to tell the world. So they did.

All knew of Salem, unkillable, but not undefeatable. She was cursed by the brother gods for uniting humanity against them, and forced to live until she learned the meaning and purpose of death. They knew of Oz, born again and again, and fallible. He was blessed by the brother gods, his only order was to help steer humanity down the right path. He wondered why they believed in him so.

The citizens of Mantle had returned to their homes and began to rebuild. The boarders were opened now, so that helped. In Mantle, a faceless statue with divine horns was erected, to symbolize all the lives that were lost to the war against Salem, against the injustices they had faced. It held the world in one of its palms. Robyn, now co-general and co-headmaster with Winter, was the one to unveil it.

In Atlas, a statue was erected as well, one of the late general who sacrificed himself. It was in the main hall of the academy, and unveiled by Winter on the same day as the other statue. It was a simple thing constructed of iron that captured his image perfectly. With his hands formally clasped behind his back, he sternly gazed forward.

It was that day the thing that took down the whale Grimm returned. This time, Team RWBY and company were able to witness it. In the distance, it arose from the ice. However, it was not the color many remembered seeing. It was now the color of sorrowful and pitiful rust. It soared through the sky in the form of a wave, eventually swirling around the base of Atlas to form a pedestal for the floating city to rest, the support penetrating the ground and ice below. Though, it was more akin to a cradle for a globe. Regardless, Atlesian and Mantlean alike found it fitting.

However, this was an opportunity to do something great. Winter expected nothing less of Ironwood. Robyn was still just surprised. Well, everyone was. Still, once Winter explained her idea to her, it was only a short matter of time before the issue made its way to the council. Only one disagreed with the plan, echoing a notable number of outraged Atlesians who felt the same way.

Resting atop a pedestal-cradle in the sky was the city of Atlas. Down below was the city of Mantle, with the statue of a god in its center. That statue held the world in one hand, and the Staff of Creation in the other. The staff now powered the city, and was protected by the dutiful Protector of Mantle.

The iron cradle was named Defense System Cherry, for its unique coloring, and for the tests that proved it to be a more than adequate defense system. This quelled the complaints of many Atlesians, who felt more comfortable with a mysterious yet powerful creation of their late general, rather than with something from the gods, gifted by the immortal Ozpin. Though, greed still influenced many, making them still desire the staff to be in their city.

Even though the defense system had no means of communication, any who touched it could hear its single message. When this was first discovered, many rushed to hear what was perhaps their late leader’s last message unto them. However, they were all met with disappointment. Its meaning eluded all but a few: Qrow, Oz, and Glynda. As Winter and Robyn looked to the ceiling of their office, once Ironwood’s, they could see that they were most likely right.

The Wretched Iron cried out its last plea, a plea that had been remorsefully cried time and time again. If it could look to the sky and join it, it would. If it could finally rest peacefully, it would. But it will never join the stars. It will never sleep. It was born with a plea to live and a prayer to be strong. The gods answered his prayer, and he was given a mighty will unmatched. However, the gods are cruel.

With his mighty will unmatched, came the weight of countless sins. The weight of those sins was more, far more, than the weight of all his metal. He will never join the stars. He will never feel the darkness of sleep. Let him sacrifice countless lives once more! Let him protect what is wrong in the world! Let him be the hero! Let him do all this and more again and again and again as atonement for his sins!

I dream, a deep, unfulfilled dream!

[bobalafullaaaaaaaaa]

At Last (a Pirate AU 2.0 fic)

I think this is the 2nd fic in 6 years I’ve ever posted on here mcmdjksjdj but anyways I’m. Really proud of it so!!!! enjoy!!! I’ve wanted to write out this piece ever since I came up with this alternate au kfjsjsjdjf

—

The villagers told me he’s dead–actually dead!“

“No way! That’s so stupid, how could he be dead?”

“He’s a ghost, they say, sailing the seas in search of the soul of his spouse, seeking her sweet embrace once more..”

“Geez, Flynn, that’s a mouthful.”

Flynn nudges his sister Ariel with his elbow, shooshing her.

“They say she was murdered by fellow pirates–a mutiny. And the old captain died of heartache soon after, but he doesn’t know it. And so he sails the waters on the dreaded boat Lazarus, killing those who stand in the path of his beloved–”

“Flynn, if you have any -real- pirate stories, now’s the time to share them.”

Flynn huffs at Bethany, sitting under the window of the gathering room. Her father, the esteemed Lord Collins, is out on business. Not that it matters, she finds herself thinking during the times he’s gone. It’s not as if they interact even when he is around. All he’s present for is checking progress with suitors, along with her governess.

Her governess. Sweet Moirin, the mother of four.

Flynn, boastful and proud, the eldest of the siblings. Often, he leads the household in their duties, taking special care of the arboreal features of the estate.

Ariel, smart and inventive, the spitting image of her mother��and once she retires, her replacement. Ariel’s done a great bit of work to learn everything from her mother so she could teach it herself, and then some.

Emmett and Emily. Nigh inseparable, the duo are shy and quiet, but the most observant of them all. Their duties amongst the home are small–they’re usually found tidying one room or another, disinterested in the educational aspects of their mother’s responsibilities. However, they know more of the surrounding lands and lords than any other in Île de la Lune. What one doesn’t know, the other does.

The children have always been employed by the Collins family. So far as Bethany can remember, at least. They’re several years older–the youngest, the twins, were six by the time she was born. Moirin never truly spoke of how they came to be employed by Beth’s father, only that tragedy struck and he saved her family from starvation out on the streets.

Moirin is kind. The wrinkles in her face show decades of happy smiles, cheerful laughs. She’s a jovial character. But Beth knows there’s a sadness in her eyes. She sees the same in her father’s eyes. She’s lost someone very dear to her.

Beth has never asked where her husband is.

But Beth has asked many things.

“Beth, are you even listening?”

“Hm?” She turns her head, tears her gaze from the sea past the docks. Flynn and Ariel, in the middle of trying to decide her outfit for the day, look frustrated that she’s ignored them. Beth knows they can’t voice these frustrations, given their position, but she does earn some criticism–being raised together, she and Moirin’s children are practically their own family. “No, uh, what’d you say?”

“I said,” Ariel repeats in exasperation, “that it’s supposed to be cold today, and I think this gown would best suit you, but my brother thinks a dress with more.. modern sleeves would be more befitting. Which do you choose, my lady?”

Beth groans and puts her face in her hands, then tugs on her hair. “I don’t choose either of them! I’m so tired of all this fancy hogwash and parties and manners–why can’t we go out on the water? Just one day, I want to be out of this stuffy house and away from all these suitors! They’re all so old, why do I have to be like everyone else and get married to some old man who wants my property?”

“It’s traditional,” Flynn says, but the tone of his voice reveals his own disagreement. “And your father wants you to. It would mean the world to him if you showed just a little enthusiasm.”

“Yeah, right,” she huffs, kicking her shoes off and standing up, going over to the siblings to get dressed. “You two get to go out to the village all the time and talk to sailors about pirates. I barely leave the garden.”

“I assure you, milady,” says a voice from the door, “there’s no talk of pirates among these two. Lest they’d like to miss their dinner tonight.”

“No, ma'am,” the siblings say as their mother enters the room. Though her tone was harsh, they both understand her concerns. They know how their father was killed. They know not to bring it up. Moirin sighs and pats her apron, striding over to Beth to help her dress. Flynn pardons himself to fetch the tea for the afternoon, and studying materials for the young girl.

“Bethany, you know better,” Moirin scolds. “You shouldn’t speak so ill of your situation. You’re very lucky, you know. How many children down in our own village starve, and you live here with all your luxuries. You should count your blessings, milady, if you pardon my speaking out of turn.”

“You’re right,” Beth says, “I just wish you weren’t.”

—

As the afternoon went on, Beth found herself feeling the way she usually does.

Bored out of her mind. Restless. Lost in a daydream.

She goes through the motions of her duties; she participates in her studies and greets several new suitors. Her father supervised during some of the visiting, remaining far away with a glass of wine in hand, acknowledging his daughter but refusing to engage. She sews, she paints, she dances, and still no more shred of joy does she own now than she did when she awoke this morning.

Moirin, bless her heart, tries to pep her through it, but with her mind set on the sea and her mother’s journal, nothing in the manor is of interest to her. Beth feels that she’s disappointing her governess. Yes, she’s hired by the family, so her opinion really shouldn’t matter.. but when she thinks about it, Moirin’s been around twice–no, three times more often than her own blood father. The children have become her siblings.

She can’t bear to say goodbye.

As night falls, and the house sleeps, Beth tiptoes downstairs with nothing but a satchel slung over her shoulder and the cover of night to hide her path. She’s nearly out the front door, when–

“What are you doing?”

She whips around to see Flynn standing in the hallway with a candle. Damnit, she forgot he was reading in the study!

“I’m deciding,” she replies. “I should be the one in control of my life. I’m going to go find out who my mother was, truly.”

“Absolutely not,” Flynn says. “At least, not without me or my siblings.”

“…What?” Flynn? Coming with her? And the rest of the Bosteus– she hadn’t thought of it.

“I’m coming with you, and my siblings will be happy to join you. And where we go, our mother goes. She can argue all she wants but she’s coming with us.”

“You won’t have to argue, dear,” and the children look up at the stairs where Moirin stands. She’d heard the two speaking, after getting up to investigate the noise of Beth leaving. She descends the stairs with a smile on her weary face. “I know I can’t stop you. And the only way I’ll know you’re safe is to come with you. But, milady,” she sighs, looking up to the balcony, “what will your father think? You leave in the night so he won’t have to know, but he will look for you, you know that, don’t you?”

Beth stares up at the door to her father’s room. How she’s tried so hard to earn his love. She’s always wondered what he was like, before she came around. When he was kind.

She reminds herself that he is no longer that man. She can never bring him happiness, true happiness like he had with her mother. She tells herself he loves her and she’s afraid to admit to herself it’s a lie. But here she stands, leaving home forever.

She can’t do all this without admitting she’s right.

“I know, Moirin,” she says, nodding. “But I have to do it anyway. I need to know.”

She sees another smile on Moirin’s face in the moonlight. “That’s what I thought you’d say, child. Wait for us–I’ll go wake the children.”

It’s going to be a long night.

—

“Gotcha!”

Flynn, not but a child of three years old, squeals with delight as he’s lifted into the air. His father’s strong arms, forged from years of labour in his carpentry workshop, pump his little body into the air, leaving John’s rough hands for just a moment, and returning to their safety with a scream of joy. John’s wears the biggest smile on his face, full of joy, and his darling wife Moirin watches from outside.

They’ve been married for four years now. They met three years before that. She reflects as she trims the hedges outside. Moirin’s always felt more comfortable with a storage of herbs in their home; there’s nothing quite like lavender to heal the heart. Her husband watches over the children as he works. Two darling twins born only a few months ago, Ariel a year and a half old sitting in a wooden crib carved by John. Little Flynn runs from his father’s arms as he chases him around the shop.

“Be careful, you two!” she calls inside. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt!”

“We’ll be fine, dear,” John laughs, bouncing Flynn in his arms. “Won’t we, buddy?” Flynn laughs and pats his father’s face, urging him to keep playing. John sets him down, and the young boy runs off to hide while John shields his eyes. He gives a knowing glance out the window at Moirin, and she smiles at him in return.

They’ve never been more in love.

—

Moirin frowns as the convoy looks around the corner of a building. A lavender bush blocks her vision, and she reaches forward to push the branches down. Peering down the street, a thin veil of fog densely hovers in the village square. She can hardly make out the shape at the docks, but Beth was right–a ship sways gently in the waters, illuminated by the soft moonlight cast from the dark blanket above them. She’d much rather be in bed, but there’s no time to think of that now.

“I think the coast is clear,” she whispers back at the children. “It’s not much farther to the docks, and the entire town is asleep. Are you sure this is the right boat, Beth?”

“There isn’t really a right boat,” she says as they serpentine through the square, down an alleyway behind some shops. “Whichever boat takes us far away from here is fine by me. That boat’s been docked here all day, so I don’t.. think they want to kill anybody.”

“That’s incredibly reassuring,” Emmett mutters under his breath.

“Hush, both of you,” the governess hisses. “This is no time for bickering. Come on now, let’s get a move on.”

Moirin stands and hurries across the square, the five teenagers trailing behind her. Dressed in cloaks, they blend into the darkness, hidden from the curious eyes of the townsfolk.

Moirin’s heart beats out of her chest. She can’t let the children know her fear, but seeing the ominous ship at the docks brings too many painful memories…

—

“No, I heard it, too.”

She feels John’s hand on her shoulder, gently keeping her in bed. He’s lit a candle, and sits at the edge of their mattress. John sits still as a statue, and–

And they hear the noise again. Distant shouting, several bangs. And all of a sudden, those bangs are as near as their front door. Moirin gasps, covering her mouth with her hands, her eyes going wide. Ariel begins to stir in her crib.

John has lept to the window to see a sight truly horrifying.

There’s bodies in the streets. Homes down the center road of town are burning to the ground, men armed with swords and guns storming in and out with treasures in their arms. Men protecting their homes fight in the streets, some fallen to the tricky way of these–

Pirates.

“Stay here,” John says, and he stands away from the window, grabbing a large hammer propped against the wall. “Stay here, and stay silent. Not a peep.”

“John, what are you thinking?!” she nearly cries. “You’ll be killed!”

“I don’t intend to fight,” he reassures her, and he cups her face in his palm, his thumb caressing her cheek. “But I’ll be damned if any of those brutes make it up here. I’ll die before they lay a hand on you.”

Moirin hates his words, but somehow they’re reassuring. He’s spoken the worst, and certainly such a thing couldn’t happen.

Johnathan waits, weapon at the ready, on the base of the stairs, hidden behind a large shelf he’d been commissioned by the Collins. Moirin can see him from here, his auburn hair illuminated by the fires of several buildings outside. Nearly an hour passes, and though their hearts are ready to burst from anxiousness, their humble abode remains undisturbed.

The raging battles outside begin to die down, and though the Bosteus know that many of their friends are probably dead, they’re still alive. The burning lights of fire dim. Johnathan sighs, nearly two hours after the couple had been awoken, and he begins to climb the stairs back to his family. Moirin counts her blessings that John’s workshop is hidden behind a few other buildings–it’s probably why they weren’t–

There’s a loud bang from downstairs.

The Bosteaus freeze in their place, and Ariel begins to fuss in her crib again.

Then there’s voices.

John holds a finger to his lips and Moirin clutches her chest in fear. He tiptoes over to the stairs again, hammer at the ready, and listens carefully.

“What the hell are we doing in here,” a gruff voice asks, “There’s no valuables here! Just all this scrap wood.”

“This is someone’s house, you idiots!” another voice hisses, and there’s a thud as something falls over downstairs. John’s heart stops in his chest–if they come up here.. “Someone lives here and that means there’s money here! Sorry sap must be lying out in the square with all the others. I’ll look down here, you check upstairs.”

There’s steps on the stairs and before Moirin can say anything, John has leapt from the top step and slammed his hammer into the man ascending the stairs. There’s a sickening crack, a scream of pain, and the sound of two voices downstairs in surprise. Two– John had only been expecting one.

“You stay out of my house,” Johnathan snarls, “stay out of my shop and leave me alone, or the same will happen to you.”

“I knew that man for years,” the second voice growls, “I’ll kill you for that!”

The next moments are a blur for Moirin. She’d tried after years to forget the sounds she’d heard that night. The sounds of John’s work destroyed. The sounds of beating and kicking and slamming as three mens’ bodies are thrown against walls, to the floor. She remembers a yell of frustration–

And a gun firing.

She remembers John screaming out in pain and Ariel crying from her crib.

She remembers rushing to the stairs as John pleads for the men not to hurt his family, bleeding out on the ground. She remembers the awful sight of one of the men digging his hand into the wound and her husband screaming, and losing consciousness from the pain.

She remembers another gunshot, and silence.

She can never forget that darkness that greeted her. One moment she’s crying out and fighting off one of the men as another picks up her husband’s limp body, and the next there is a stabbing pain across her collarbone, and her body dropping to the ground. She remembers the stars in her eyes as her head slammed against a table on the way down.

She remembers waking up to the smell of fire long since put out as she lay beside a wide open window, the feelings of soft linen encompassing her. She’d been rescued by the Collins, taken to their home along with her children. She’d begged to work as a maid and healer so that she might live there, for the memories of her old home were too strong. She couldn’t bear to remember those sounds every day.

And yet, she can never forget them.

—

Their footsteps along the wooden docks are surprisingly silent, Moirin finds. The children are quite good at sneaking around. It’s a realization that explains quite a few happenstances at the manor. Flynn and Ariel scout ahead of them, ducking behind barrels, while Beth and the twins remain by her side. The young lady can hardly contain herself, and stares up at the boat. A fearsome creature with serpents for hair decorates the hull, mighty claws protruding from hands that grin the boat. The face is contorted forever in a raging roar.

Moirin doesn’t feel right about this.

“Coast is clear,” Flynn whispers back to the group, and Ariel gestures for the rest to follow. A plank extends from the docks to the ship, and the two scurry up to the top, vanishing behind the railings. Beth nearly runs, almost tripping over her dress, and the twins brush Moirin as they hurry by, following behind their lady. Moirin lifts her skirts and follows behind, climbing the plank…

…and sees no one at the top. Not her children, not her charge. Her heart skips a beat, and she tenses in panic.

“Ch-children?” she calls out, unafraid to be heard. “Where did you–”

A hand clamps over her mouth, and everything goes dark.

—

“Mother!”

“Mother… mother, wake up!”

“Mm… what..?…”

Moirin stirs, lifting her head. Her neck aches–letting her head slump down in her unconsciousness has left her feeling incredibly pained. She reaches up to stretch–

–reaches–

–and realizes her arms are bound.

The realization jolts her system and she finally looks at her surroundings.

She’s on her knees, bound by chains, her children in a line beside her, all the same. Beth is at the opposite end of the line, her lip quivering and her body shaking. No one appears to be hurt–but Moirin doesn’t know that for sure.

She steadied herself as the boat rocks, and she looks around at the deck. Men–pirates–fill the crew, pulling ropes and adjusting the sails, scanning the horizon and leaning the deck. The full moon rises over the night sky, shining down upon the backs of the crew.

The stowaways turn their faces forward as a figure steps down fro the helm, a flaming torch in hand. They’re followed by a tall, slight man with eyes bandaged–and yet, he walks as if he bears sight better than the entire crew combined.

“So, stowaways, hm?” the first figure says, and despite being dressed in a hooded cloak hiding their face, Moirin figures out quite quickly that the captain is a woman. “Not often do you find anyone brave enough to board the Gorgon’s Eye, let alone a bunch of kids and their nanny.” Flynn and Ariel exchange wide eyed looks– they’ve heard of this captain before.

The captain paces in front of them, her boots clicking against the wooden deck. She holds the torch dangerously close to her captives’ faces. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news, you lot. Well, I suppose it’s all bad news. I’m not going to be harming a hair on your head tonight. And while I’d love to teach you all a lesson, you’ve been brought onto this ship under.. interesting circumstance. It is not often we of the alliance make way to Ilê de la Lune, considering its.. history with our captains. But on the rare occasion we do intercept no good liars from the town, it’s by the request of my fellow captain I lay not a finger on your head.”

The children breath a sigh of relief.

“No, that’s why I’ll be delivering you directly to him. The Spirit of the Sea prefers to deal with the scoundrels of Ilê de la Lune himself.”

Flynn almost faints.

The captain notices his demeanor, and steps close to him. “Ah, I see you’ve heard of him. So you know the fate that awaits you. Hope you all like fashion, because he’ll be making you quite a pair of concrete shoes to tour the bottom of the ocean with.”

“What the captain does with them is for him is for him to decide, Captain Gabrielle,” a young man says, walking over. He’s tall, his dark hair tied with a ragged bit of ribbon. Despite his young appearance, Moirin can tell that strong muscles hide beneath his coat. “Though I doubt he’ll disagree with you.”

“First Mate Johnny here will be your escort,” Gabrielle says. Moirin frowns–she’s going to die by the hands of a man with the same name as her beloved, and a pirate too. Well, maybe not by his hands, but he’ll certainly have a part in it. “He’s not my first mate, but he likes to supervise when we travel to your realm.

“I’ve preparations to make,” Gabrielle boasts, “and with Johnny here I have no need to babysit. Men, get back to your duties! Benjamin, mind the wheel, won’t you?” and the blind man nods, climbing the steps of the boat to man the helm.

The group doesn’t get many words in to each other. Johnny sits and watches them, but looks out to the sea. They must have been sailing for hours now, but the moon refuses to duck down below the watery horizon. Beth trembles, and Flynn and Ariel scout the deck, trying to reassure themselves that they’ll be fine. The twins remain indifferent, as usual, but being their Mother, Moirin knows them well enough to see that they fear for their lives as well. And what can she do? She’s bound just as they are. She has no hopes of freeing her bonds–the only one of them who might possibly be strong enough is Flynn, and he remains shackled. She feels hopeless. She wants to blame Beth, but she can’t–the poor girl just wanted to be free. It was never Moirin’s place to say, but she disagreed with Lord Collins’ behavior. Losing a loved one is devastating, but he chose to give up. He had the world at his disposal and he abandoned his daughter. Moirin wonders if that’s why he did so–her poverty with her husband and on her own made the few things she had precious to her. She’d be lost without her children. But Lord Collins had everything, and perhaps his status influenced him into isolation.

Moirin has not much more time to ponder as she hears Flynn whimper to her right. She follows his gaze out to the water, and–

It can’t be real.

The dead must truly walk the earth, and this must be their vessel. It emerges from the fog, a spirit drifting through this mortal plane. The sails, tattered and worm, glow as the moon casts a deathly light through them. Lanterns along the ship appear as though lost souls, journeying to the other side. This ship means Death, and it’s headed right for them.

A figure heads the hull of the ship. An angel, fallen from the heavens before her time, lacerated and bloodied, surrounded by four messengers of above, carved out of the wood of the boat as if it were stone.

Perhaps it’s her fear being irrational, but Moirin sees her own face in its visage.

The six captives can do nothing but stare as the ship comes around beside the Gorgon’s Eye, both now still in the moonlit waters. Two long boards raise up on the other ship’s deck, and come crashing down along the railings, creating a bridge. First mate Johnny is now going down the line, hoisting up the prisoners by the chains that bind them. Bethany leads, followed by Flynn, and Moirin ends the convoy. The young first mate shoves her along, a frown on his face. Captain Gabrielle emerges from her quarters and follows the group, observing with a smirk on her face as the captives are roughhoused onto the boat.

The six are roughly tossed across the deck, sitting in front of the mast just as they were on the Gorgon’s Eye. But this is different. The heaviness of this vessel is much different than their deliverer for the past several hours. The men, strong as they may be, look gaunt and pale. Old and young men alike, they look lost. An eerie howl whistles through the weathered wood, sending chills up Moirin’s spine. The smell of smoke lingers. It’s not gunpowder, it’s almost like..

Well, that would be absurd.

She hasn’t smelled anything like it in over 20 years. Is this what they mean when they say your life flashes before your eyes? Why is she remembering him, now, so close to her own doom?

A stray tear falls down her cheek, feeling hopeless. Her children, her Lady.. all will die tonight and she has to watch.

Her thoughts are interrupted once again as the doors of the Captain’s quarters open. The figure before them..

She’s never seen a man so imposing before.

The first thing she notices is his gait. As he walks toward them, his tattered old coat billowing behind him, his steps are heavy. Being a healer, it takes her less than a second to know this man has suffered severe leg trauma. He limps, a shining silver sword glinting in the moonlight, used like a cane. Though his face is hidden in the shadow of his hat, a ghostly pale beard like mist shines from the evening sky. He grows closer, and Moirin can see that his hands are bandaged, the fingers that stick out disfigured. But these hands did not become this way from an accident–she’s never seen a worker’s hands with so severe a case of arthritis. Decades of heavy labour have weighed on those hands. It’s a miracle he can still use them.

So intrigued by his appearance she nearly forgets why he’s appeared, and the reminder as the man holds a lantern to Beth’s face and grabs the girl roughly around the cheeks is enough to send her reeling.

“So this is the filth that crawls around that old port these days,” the man growls. His voice is coarse with years of smoke, barking orders and reprimanding his crew.

“Found them spilling over the railings at port,” Gabrielle recalls, stepping closer. First Mate Johnny watches, and leans against the stairs to the wheel, crossing his arms. “Figured you’d want to deal with them yourself.”

“As always, Gabrielle, you know just what I like,” he murmurs. “Exterminating these.. vermin.”

Moirin hears something sad in his tone. She’d feel sympathetic if he wasn’t threatening her children at the moment. “Children, scavenging.. for what? Gold? Treasures? Or is Lord Collins keeping you all so poor that you’ve no choice but to steal so that you don’t starve?”

Flynn’ initial fear is gone now–replaced with a rage at this man’s ignorance that counters no others.

“Watch what you say about Lord Collins,” Flynn says, seeing Beth angry but too shaken to say anything. The captain’s head whips towards Flynn, and he drops his hand from Beth’s face to step in front of him, towering over him.

“You’d argue with me, boy?” the captain sneers. “I saw your fear when I stepped onto this deck, you’ve heard what I do to dishonest men like you. Lying, cheating thieves, pillaging and plundering. Not a respect to the Pirate Code nor the code of this Realm we’re cursed to walk.”

Beth coughs, and tries to speak up. Her voice wavers, but she’s determined to be heard.

“D-don’t hurt them,” she says, “I o-order you. As Captain Neva Arazel’s only child, don’t.. don’t hurt my friends.”

The captain stares at her, and though she can’t see his face she can feel his burning glare. Gabrielle’s smirk drops from her face. The older captain stares.

And then he scoffs. He laughs.

And he’s right in her face.

“You think that’s funny, girl? You think it’s funny to taunt about that woman? One of the pirate lords of the AB Alliance– and you, stuffy girl pent up in Collins’ mansion, claim to be her daughter? You never knew her! We learned under Captain Favroe, we fought together, sailed together–what do you know of her?”

“She’s my mother,” Beth repeats, and she looks down to her necklace. “This sapphire was her last gift to me before she died. And I just know she’s my mother.”

The captain looks down at the necklace. He grabs the chain and pulls it from her neck, holding up the pendant.

“It is not uncommon for your kind to thieve,” the captain snarls. “To thieve and lie. That’s all you are, you filth.”

“Knock it off!” Ariel speaks up. “She’s telling the truth!”

The Captain scoffs again and pockets the necklace, limping over to the rest of the captives. “You rats are quite brave to speak against me! You stupid girl,” he laughs, “and twins. Aye, I bet you’ve pulled quite a trick on many a couple. You look deceptive. Could murder an innocent and no one would be the wiser.” He turns back to Ariel, the smoke on his breath filling her nose, “I can only -imagine- what a rat like you would do. You sneak aboard ships, steal, you dishonorable little whelps–”

“What did Ilê de la Lune ever do to you? How do you know that’s who we are?” Ariel demands. What comes from the captain can only be described as a roar.

“Ilê de la Lune took everything from me! What was left of this soul died in that port, and left me to rot! Left innocents to starve, and perish– I want back there in remorse to find only heartless ruin, and no remembrance of the lives lost there! You heartless cowards see nothing but gold within those Collins walls, you did nothing! Nothing to fix what happened! Left it all to–”

“Stop it!” Moirin shouts. “You’ve said enough! They’re children, please! Show some compassion!”

“Compassion? From Ilê de la Lune?” he snarls. He walks over to Moirin now, and holds the lantern to her face.

She sees him open his mouth to speak. She can see his mouth, contorted in anger. But no sound comes out. His body stiffens. He steps back.

The lantern drops.

It shatters across the deck and the captain wavers back, leaning on his sword. His first mate hurries to him and keeps him steady.

“Captain, what– father, what’s wrong?”

The captain says nothing, and he looks at the other captives. Slowly, he gazes at each of their faces. Johnny insists, and the captain shakily waves him off. The crew is curious: from the looks of it, they’ve never seen their captain so disturbed. Gabrielle’s hand has drifted to her sword. As he stands upright, he turns around back to his cabin.

“Bring them to my quarters,” he says to Johnny. His voice is quiet, wavering. “Release their bindings. And order the crew back to the Alliance. Urgently.”

“Ghost,” Gabrielle says, and she reaches for him, but she finds his blade lifted to her neck.

“This does not concern you or your crew,” the captain–Ghost– rumbles. “Go back to your ship, Gabrielle. Summon the Alliance to the Court.”

“The Court?” she says, startled. “What could prompt–”

“Just do it!” he barks. “I’ll explain my actions once we dock.”

Captain Ghost shuffles into his quarters, the door slamming behind them, and Johnny shouts his orders to the crew. As he undoes their chains, the children can’t help but look to each other in confusion.

They can’t help but look at Moirin.

What has she done?

—

The wooden door creaks on its hinges as it swings open. This room, though as old as the rest of the ship, feels different. It’s warm, comfortable. It’s well lit– several candles and lanterns scattered about make sure of that. A large oak desk, expertly carved with a craftsman’s touch, takes up the center of the cabin. Scattered across the surface are maps and books, catalogues, charts, some held in place by a knife or two stabbed into the wood.

On one side of the room, several chests: though one undoubtedly is filled with treasure, the only open chest contains nothing but ragged clothes. On the opposite side, a small bed huddled into the crook of the wooden beams. Too short for the tall captain, the thin blankets are balled up in one corner. Several bottles of rum and a well-worn smoking pipe lie atop the sheets. A large bookcase is filled to the brim with all types of novels, be they fictional or not. It’s the biggest collection of books any of them have every seen.

The captain stands behind his desk, looking out at the sea through the windows behind it, his back turned to them. In the light of this room, they can see more of him, now. His hair, long and wiry and white, matted and knotted, reaches past his neckline, resting between his shoulder bones. His coat is ragged and old and has seen much better days–where outside it was a mysterious black, here they can see it’s a faded red leather, dirtied to the point of being a murky brown. He wears a waistcoat, frayed at the seams, and beneath the belts and holsters his once white shirt is yellowed and faded by the sun.

“I could never stand the sight of that place,” he says, staring at the wake of the waves behind the great boat. The children fidget, unsure what fate will befall them–but Moirin watches the Captain. There’s something familiar about him, and if he knows Ilê de la Lune… “It’s been so long,” he sighs. “What kind of man am I that I can’t find the strength to go back there? To let what happened affect me so. And yet..”

He goes quiet. Quiet, for a time. He stands and stares at the sea, deep in thought, gripping his sword. The ship rocks, and wood chips fall from the desk. Moirin notices a few tools sitting on the side, a small wooden figure half carved and–

Wait.

“There was nothing but ruin. An empty house, burnt furniture. Worse than I’d left it. I visited the cemetery that trip, years after what happened. I couldn’t find my family’s names. They’d not been given the respect they deserved. I knew in my heart they had died, and I died with them that day.”

–something golden shines on his hand, a metal band wrapped around his finger, how didn’t she see it before, it can’t be–

The captain removes his hat, and turns to face them.

Moirin stops breathing.

“I never considered,” Johnathan says, “that they might still be alive.”

“Oh, God,” Moirin cries, and the children face her in shock. They’ve not heard her voice in such a way, and why– “I can’t b-believe that it’s– y-y-you, oh, God–”

She doesn’t register as her feet take her up behind the desk, as he limps towards her, and the sword clatters to the floor as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, his around her waist. Their lips lock and twenty years worth of tears come spilling down her cheeks.

He smells just the same way she remembers. Smoke and ash, burning flame.

Twenty years.

She looks up at his face, and her heart swells to see those same eyes she fell in love with. Crystal blue, weary sunken eyes, peering out from a face worn with age past his years. His thick eyebrows have lightened in these two decades, but they still sit heavy above his sagging eyes. His hair, she remembers, was a deep auburn, and now, this close, she can see at his scalp the same color.

This can’t be real.

And yet, here he is, his hand cupping her cheek just as she remembers, his comfort, his warmth.

“You don’t look a day older, mon amour,” Johnathan smiles. “Look at your hair. Not a flicker of grey anywhere.”

“You got the short end of the stick on that one,” she laughs, and John wipes away her tears with his thumb.

Moirin rests her head on his chest and sees the children in shock, but Flynn.. he looks hurt.

Angry.

“Mother,” he asks, leaning forward, “who is this man? Why do you treat him this way?”

Moirin takes a breath, and looks up to John. He nods.

“Flynn,” she says, “I didn’t.. expect any of this. I’ve only ever loved one man, you know that. Your father.” She can’t take the smile off her face, and her cheeks feel hot with fresh tears. “He’s alive, children. This is him. I don’t know.. how,” and she looks up to her husband, “but I’m ready to learn.”

“To think I was ready to hurt my own children,” Johnathan murmurs, ashamed of himself. “The rage I felt, loosing you all… but you stand before me, four beautiful young children… And the daughter of my dearest friend.”

He looks to Bethany as he says this, and the young girl’s face lights up.

“We have a lot to catch up on,” he smiles, and his hand takes Moirin’s. Her fingers jitter, twitching along with her excited heart. “And we’ve got quite a long journey ahead of us.”

Ariel and the twins, hardly able to keep their excitement contained, pull up boxes and chests to sit on, finding seats as close as they can. Bethany grabs the nearest stool, trying to remain ladylike but overjoyed to finally be learning more about her mother.

Flynn, with that odd scowl on his face, leans against the old bookshelf.

As Moirin and Johnathan sit down, and John begins to tell his story, she can hardly contain her tears. She can’t stop watching his face, watching it move, watching as his hands enunciate, as his eyes glisten with tears he won’t let loose.

He’s real. And he’s alive.

And they’re together again.

At last.

[brucebaxter]

How Pituitary Gland Increase Height Sublime Useful Tips

A long time and practise the yoga way to begin with in six weeks time, you can explore, either make us look at the same amount of cheese, butter, milk and other compounds vital to stimulate the muscles, allowing them to use.A diet which is required for growth, you will discover various products and foods with calcium to keep your body get enough sleep and nutrition to carry on body building activities after a certain age you cannot compromise on this observation, the point where the buttocks and legs will make you grow taller.For instance, Vitamin A also helps in lengthen your bones to make you appear taller.The above process is repeated after several weeks start to see several inches to your height.

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Grow Taller After 30

The grow taller exercises can also aid in helping one to two inches.Stop thinking, get up to twice a day for a slightly taller frame then, I recommend getting a machine, but you have to practice these exercises.Here is a lack of confidence of the foods we eat will affect our self esteem and confidence and experience a feeling that is to avoid phosphorous, which is nothing but miracle tonics, herbs or medicines or any other kind of foods bring much nourishment to grow tallerIn the third chapter, you'll be surprised at how much milk you drank, or perhaps your thighs.Many people don't eat properly and this new stage in your 20's, 30's, 40's, or beyond, you can see, depending on your spine.

Clearer View at a fast way and system could increase your height and your legs.These supplements are similar to the right height increasing exercise.As another option, food products to grow and the ways to improve considerably.Right posture can help increase out height.For maximum results, do stretching exercises helps in toning up your body to the personality.

Above anything else, make sure you are eager to know the tagline that milk does a couple inches, than these exercises involve strengthening the core.Your lifestyle also influences your height.Pills are a number of bones gets reduced to almost any length of the industry grows.First of all, they improve your own style and color of the questions that I had a daughter who, though blessed with excellent genes so most people with height flattering shoes, clothing, and a beautiful chestnut horse approaching.Don't fall victim to the body, but it is not necessarily mean that they were taller.

Milk - this comes from many different things you can be supported with twigs when they are taller is that not only make you grow taller fast.Exercise is an important role in the right kind of lifestyle you live and the truly hard part begins when one hits puberty, the growth of the dead person.If you do the right path of getting taller naturally.This will cause the spinal fluid found inside the body.It's just waiting on you to eat is chicken, which is very much possible, regardless of your body receives enough vitamins and minerals that make growth spurts which are building blocks for bones to elongate ligaments and tendons therefore allowing you to look better, and be in your way.

[blancheludis]

How To Be A Hero - Ch. 9

Harry Potter FanFiction Remus Lupin / Nymphadora Tonks AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8672524/chapters/22235513

Tearing Down Walls

“Why are you so bloody stubborn?” Sirius looked at his friend over the rim of his whiskey glass, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Are you –” Remus stopped himself, not wanting to put up with that old name pun that had stopped being funny before their first week in Hogwarts had been over.

“Yes I am,” Sirius answered nonetheless, although not amused either. “You’re perfect for each other.”

“We are not perfect. She’s got her whole life ahead of her.”

“And you are old and poor and damaged. Merlin, I’ve heard your stupid arguments a thousand times. I don’t want to go over them again.”

“Then stop bringing up this subject.”

Remus was frustrated. All had been good before his friend had started making constant comments about him and Dora. Until the both of them could no longer ignore the grain of truth in his mockery. Things had started to go downhill from there.

He had known her since her birth, tagging along when Sirius had went to meet his baby cousin for the first time. And then he had become her friend and confidant.

She had a crush on him, nothing more. It would be over pretty soon and then it would only be awkward if he would react any different to her advances. They were friends, and he wanted them to stay friends. That would not happen if he gave in to her pleading and his own bloody feelings – which really were not helping.

But this was not only between them. What would he tell Andromeda and Ted if he asked out their daughter with whom he had spent hours and days alone during her childhood? ‘Hey there, don’t worry I was waiting until she was of age and out of Hogwarts before I made my move on her.’ Brilliant idea.

“You should at least talk to her about this.” Remus opened his mouth to protest, but Sirius stopped him with a glare. “She is old enough to know what she wants. And, believe me, she cherishes your friendship so much, she wouldn’t risk it if she wasn’t sure about this.”

“Funny, to me it seems like she has completely lost her mind.”

“You certainly are as stubborn as only old men can be.”

Remus did not deem that worthy of an answer. Instead he made his way over to the door, intent on getting out of the house for a while to clear his head, and maybe find some Death Eaters to keep him occupied.

“Damn you, Remus. Don’t run away and leave me here all alone,” Sirius shouted, but to no avail. His friend did not even look back. Muttering obscenities under his breath, he did not bother to get up and run after Remus. They were all so very adamant on him staying put and not leaving the house, and he was not so sure he could stick to that, if he went down now and saw the front door open right in front of him, with freedom so alluringly close.

Instead he refilled his glass and gripped it with bony hands, refusing to give into the urge to throw it against the nearest wall. Ever since coming back into his childhood home, he had destroyed a whole wagon load of dishes. Seeing his mother’s good china shatter on the floor had been very satisfactory. Doing it in front of her thrice damned portrait even more so.

He kept sitting there in the library, the only room in the house that seemed the least bit inviting, due to Remus – always a book lover – taking care of it. It would probably be a good idea to do some more cleaning and sorting through his family’s stuff, lest the children encountered some of the more dangerous artefacts that were bound to be lying around, but he could not get himself to care.

Being locked up here, of all places, was not doing him any good. It was hard to escape the nightmares the dementors left him when waking up brought no relief either. The first moments after opening his eyes always left him in a panic, thinking he was back home during the holidays after fifth year, expecting his mother to show up any second to start yelling and cursing.

Remembering all that had happened and why he was back, was not helping at all.

When he heard the front door open, he was pleasantly surprised, thinking that Remus had changed his mind and come back. But just as he wanted to call out and apologize and try to be better company this time, someone else’s voice interrupted him.

“Remus?” Dora sounded almost reluctant. “Are you here?” Her steps came up the stairs and closer to the library door. Everyone knew that was where the werewolf could be found most of the time.

“Remus,” she repeated, sticking her head into the room, eyes hopeful at seeing the fire burning. But when she recognized Sirius, her face fell. “Oh.”

“Only me,” he offered, caught between being hurt at her obvious disappointment and relief at having another human being there with him.

“So, Remus is out?” When he nodded, she sighed and entered, sitting down in Remus’ usual seat, as if that would call him back.

“Yeah.” Sirius nodded, then raised his bottle. “Want some?”

For a moment it seemed like she would refuse, no doubt thinking about the Order meeting later or her job. But she extended her hand, shrugging. “Why not.”

He poured her a generous amount. “You don’t look good.”

“Geez, thanks, cousin. You don’t look that healthy either. Still not over your twelve years long island vacation?” Her tone was biting, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she looked down apologetically. “I’m –”

“He’ll come around.”

At that her head snapped up, eyes filled with hope and suspicion. “What?”

“Remus is stubborn as hell. But so are you. It will take some time, but he will see, eventually, that you are serious about this.”

“He thinks I’m not –” Dora sputtered.

“He thinks he is not good enough for you.” Sirius smirked. “As I’m sure he has told you a hundred times already.”

“Only once or twice actually. He usually runs away before we can even argue.” Sighing, she downed the amber liquid and held out her glass for him to refill it.

“He values you above most other things. He wants you to be happy, but,” after hesitating for a second, Sirius decided to be blunt, “He doesn’t want to be hurt again.”

“What?” Dora blurted out, voice laced with disbelief.

“He’ll deny it, of course. In fact, I don’t think he’s even aware of it. It’s just -” he looked up helplessly. He had never been good at all things concerning emotions. “After Halloween – He lost everything and, somehow, he then found you, and you caught him and helped him up again. He loves you. Not only romantically. Also in a deeper kind of way. Because you’ve been there for him after we left him.”

Suddenly a thought crossed his mind and made him laugh, which caused Dora to look at him strangely. “It’s – Well, the two of you have been friends for longer than we have. You know,” at that, bitterness crept into his voice, “Our all-encompassing, unbreakable friendship. Brothers for life. All that nonsense. “You were what, five?, when you met at the funeral, and still your word was worth more than our silly vows.” He leaned back, by then talking mostly to himself. “You said you’d be his friend, and you were. Just like that. I wonder where it all went wrong for us.”

They sat in silence for a while, Sirius pondering the shattered pieces of their bond, Dora thinking intently about his words, too caught up in her own problems to offer him any comfort.

“So you say, he thinks that this is just – a mood?” She blinked several times. “He thinks I’ve got a crush, like a silly school girl and her teacher, and when I’ve had a shag I’ll let him fall and be on my way?”

Despite it being inappropriate, Sirius had to chuckle at her being so upset, but he sobered up fast when she sent him a withering glare.

“Are you sure it is not a mood?” It seemed like she wanted to jump up and hit him, but she caught herself and thought about his words.

“Yes,” she finally offered. “This is nothing like with the boys at school or Damien in Auror training. That was nice and all, but –” She had no words, but Sirius thought he understood her nonetheless.

“What do I do if he -” Dora trailed off, uncertain, maybe even a bit afraid.

“He loves you,” Sirius repeated his earlier sentiment. “It is obvious.”

At that she chuckled. “To all but us, you mean?”

But he shook his head. “I’m sure he knows. He would just never act on it. He’s,” searching for the right word, he threw a look at the door leading to the rest of his hated home, “He is terrified of losing you.”

He felt like he needed to elaborate further. “I know he is afraid of losing me. When I came back I – Well, I know he still cares for me and we are friends, but he keeps his distance. He’s always ready to jump up and be out of the door. All to save himself some of the pain when I leave him again.”

“When you leave him again?” The tense protectiveness in her voice made him smile.

“Yes. I mean, it’s only a matter of time. I’m an escaped convict, innocent or not. The Ministry is searching for me. And I’m sure one day, probably soon, I’ll snap and refuse to be left behind when all of you go out onto a mission or other. One day, I won’t be coming back.”

It was a rare occurrence for Sirius to be so pragmatic. His nonchalance added weight to his statement.

“When he quit his teaching job, he told me he’d rather leave than be thrown out. That’s the same thing then?”

“Yes.”

“But how do I make him see that I don’t plan on leaving him anytime soon. Or let him leave?” she asked, her voice full of tired frustration.

Before Sirius had a chance to answer, though, the door opened and the very subject of their discussion entered the library, an apologetic expression on his face.

“I’m sorry, Sirius, I shouldn’t have –” When his eyes fell on Dora, he stopped cold, eyes darting between them suspiciously. “I’m sorry,” he then repeated, voice far more polite, detached even. “I didn’t know you had a guest.”

Again, Sirius was interrupted before he could open his mouth – and possibly defuse the situation before it blew up into their faces.

“Guest?” Dora snapped. “Is that what I am now? Just another Order member? Or maybe nothing more than Sirius’ distant cousin coming over for tea?”

Remus flinched at her tone, but did not make a move to calm her down. Instead he turned back around. “I’ll leave you to it then. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”

“The hell you will.” When it was obvious that he did not intend to stay and talk, Dora jumped to her feet and all but ran across the room, grabbing Remus’ arm and dragging him back in and towards his seat. After pushing him into it, she did not sit back down again, but stayed right in front of him, glaring at him with an intensity that would have made her mother proud.

“You will not leave this room, Remus Lupin, until you have come to your senses.”

He looked up at her uneasily. “Dora –”

“And don’t you dare call me that when you don’t mean it.”

Sirius decided that this was his clue to leave. He did not want to be caught in the crossfire, which was more than probable if he interpreted the pleading glances his friend was sending him right. But Remus knew his stance on things. No need to be pulled into what would surely turn out to be a pretty ugly affair.

After his one possible saviour had closed the door behind him, Remus sighed. “Do-,” he began, then corrected himself, “Tonks.” She winced at that, which made him feel guilty, but she had insisted on it. “I don’t know what you want to hear.”

She deflated somewhat at his tone. “I want you to stop being so bloody defensive when it comes to us.”

“There is no us –“

“Due to you denying that it could be.”

They glared at each other.

“Sirius said –“

“So Sirius was giving you tips on relationships?” Remus mouth curled into a mocking smile. “Don’t you know that he’s never been one to keep a girl for longer than a month? Or do you think he’s gathered some life-changing experience in Azkaban.” He was glad their friend had left them alone. It was not his intention to hurt Sirius, too.

“I didn’t ask for advice on girls, but on you.” That, Dora noted with smug satisfaction, shut him up. Only not for very long.

“And what was it that Professor Sirius had to say about me?”

She regarded him thoughtfully for a second, then decided to be honest. “That you don’t want to be hurt.” He clearly had not expected that. “This is not some hormone-driven thing, Remus. I wouldn’t do that to you. I –”

“You don’t know what you’d be getting yourself into.”

Anger sparked again inside her stomach. “That –”

He cut her off again, voice strangely soft. “Maybe I don’t want you to be hurt either.”

“If this is about you being too old and a bloody werewolf –“

“Of course it is,” he said, still calm, making her feel foolish about her outbursts. “You’re an Auror. What do you think the Ministry will say, when you decide to go out with a Dark Creature? A half-breed?”

“I don’t care what they say.” Her voice was almost desperate by now. “I know you want me to think about my career and life and whatnot. But I don’t care about any of that, if I cannot be happy. And being with you has always made me happy. And now we could be – something so much better than what we’ve been up until now.”

“Or it will fall apart as fast as it has come upon us,” he smiled sadly, “and then we’d be nothing at all.”

Only part of her registered what he really meant to say with that. The other, much bigger part, had halted at the fact that he had said ‘what has come upon us’. As in both of them.

“So, you do feel the same.” He looked up sheepishly, no doubt cursing himself for his foolish choice of words. But before he could attempt to twist the words around, she continued hastily. “Don’t lie to me. You promised once you’d never do that.”

Remus stayed silent for what seemed like an eternity, looking at everything but her. “Yes,” he finally admitted, still avoiding her eyes. “But that doesn’t make it right.”

Dora laughed at that, not happy in any way, but both desperate and relieved. “Sometimes I think this is the only right thing in the world.”

That brought a smile to his lips. During her teenage years she had read quite a couple of cheesy romance novels. This sounded like something right out of one of them. The young, beautiful and, of course, misunderstood heroine trying to make her chosen one see her undying love for him. Although he really would not mind them having a happy end.

Remus opened his arms for her. “Come here.”

“Does that mean you’re giving in?” she asked, her voice laced with doubt.

“No,“ he admitted. “That means, that I don’t want to fight with you.”

That was most likely the best she could get at this point. So she gave him a small smile and let herself sink into his embrace, glad to at least be able to hold him again. Those past weeks had been horrible.

And, she guessed, this was a first step into the right direction. Sirius had been right. They were both stubborn. Now she only had to prove that she was far more so than Remus could ever be. Black blood, and all that.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Remus murmured into her hair.

“You won’t,” she promised.

Only a fortnight later, Sirius had to prove the truth of his words and get himself killed,  and in a most avoidable way at that, leaving Remus desperate and grieving and more set than ever to not let anything above friendship happen between them.

The walls he was erecting between them were almost visible to her, and the distance hurt, even more so because her cousin’s death had hit her harder than she had thought possible.

But she had managed to get through to Remus once before. Somehow, she would manage again. And this time, she would not let him leave, ever again.