#yes he had some crashes and what not but that does NOT warrant him getting dropped mid season

[killerandhealerqueen]

You know, when I go on instagram and read comments about Logan (idk why I do that it’s safer on tumblr for the most part), they always say he was a shit driver but it’s like…none of them want to acknowledge the fact that he was driving a SHITTY car made with parts from the previous year, making it heavier AND he didn’t have the same upgrades as Alex. He was making the best of a shitty situation. I don’t think anybody could have done better than him in that car, honestly. But it’s always easier to blame the driver rather than blame the team, right?

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 388: Plan B

“During the early days, the resistant cells that were forming had their successes and failures. Mostly failures.”  - Lakshmi Vallurupalli

“Alright, well…this sucks,” the gray man groaned, running a hand through thinning hair. They’d assembled on this early evening as an emergency meeting of Resistance Cell IL-5. “Does it have to be during dinner time?” he heard his wife’s scolding echoing through his head along with his pitiful response: “S-sorry honey w-w-we’ll make it quick.”

He knew the place still reeked of cat pee, even though Ned hadn’t arrived yet. Buzzcut was here, Moustache was here. And, of course, Anderson, who had basically been living in hi- well, his wife’s family’s basement - on the threadbare couch for some time now. Honestly, he was starting to wear out his welcome. 

“Yeah, sorry, it does stink, I really thought it would work,” Anderson lamented. He was standing at the pool table, the center of their makeshift command center. It had been Anderson and Gray Man’s plan to get the lawyers involved. To get their contacts in the court system active. To avoid any unnecessary violence in separating the “primary targets” as Buzzcut liked to call them 

“Sounds to me like them suits crashed and burned,” came Buzzcut, the ex-Coast Guard petty officer with more self-satisfaction in his voice than necessary. “Lawyers,” he grumbled, stroking the firearm at his side, “paper pushers, poindexters.” Buzzcut had been frustrated with the whole process. All this time it took to organize the warrants and writs, and now? “Still SUSFU. Big waste. Total burn bags.”

Anderson bit his tongue. All this guy’s military jargon was getting on his nerves. He knew it annoyed the others, too, except Ned. And of course all the grunts. They ate it up. 

“Where’s Fineman now? The other two?” the gray man inquired, asking about the attorneys.  He stepped over to the big cork board Buzzcut had stuck to the wall. Their makeshift conspiracy board had a number of photos of the players at FHMA  stuck to it with pushpins. Red thread ran between them, designating and labeling relationships. “Shouldn’t we, like, debrief them?” He shivered, looking up at the image of Mellissa  Monroe, the major player. There was something about her…she just... 

“I guess all three of them are home,” Anderson answered, watching the gray man reach out and straighten the picture of the Monroe woman on its thumbtack. “They sound a little freaked out.”

Moustache really hadn’t said much, since he’d arrived. 

“Well, we should get them here, debrief them,”  Buzzcut said, acting as if he’d just come up with the idea himself. “But in the meantime we need to plan our next operation.” Stepping over to the conspiracy board, he motioned to the gray man. “Gimme that ink stick.”

The gray man picked up a red marker, handed it to him. 

“The way I see it,” Buzzcut began, running a hand across his close-shaven pate, “is we need a new approach.”

Thanks Captain Obvious, the gray man thought, shuddering as Buzzcut began to draw red targets across the faces of the women on the conspiracy board. He’d spent time (maybe too much time, truth be told) curating those photos, carefully selecting them from the girls’ instagram feeds (which he, uh, researched vigorously). 

“Wh-what are you thinking?” Anderson asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer. 

“Well, ‘we’re going to need guns, a lot of guns’,” Buzzcut replied, dropping into his action hero voice and - like he tended to do - misquoting one of his favorite old movies. He continued to draw concentric red circles on the faces of the women.

The gray man shuddered. This was all beginning to get very real. Yes, Buzzcut was ex-military (Coast Guard…) as were a bunch of the grunts. The gray man liked his guns - he had a pretty good collection, now - but he’d never actually used one on another person. He didn’t think any of them had. He watched Buzzcut put an extra pushpin into Melissa Monroe’s photo, right at the center of the target he’d drawn. 

“‘Okay, this chick is gonna be toast!’” Buzzcut laughed, again murdering yet another movie quote. 

The gray man watched Buzzcut as he continued to stare at the photo, somehow managing to ignore her gloriously large breasts and perfect smile as he plotted their next move. “So what’s it going to be? This new plan?”

“I dunno but it’s gonna need a real cool name,” Buzzcut answered, pondering his options. This was it, this was his chance, he thought. He’d always dreamed of a moment like this, preparing to lead a group of his guys into combat. Suddenly he was the leader, and everyone would do what he told them to do. So, yeah, he needed a plan. And a plan name. “We’re going to call it…”

A pause as he turned, putting the cap back on the marker with a dramatic <click>. 

“…Plan B.”

=======================================

[lesbian-in-leather]

ALRIGHTY THEN

It is time to analyse that finale cliff-hanger and make my predictions for season three, so buckle up folks—and if you haven't watched season two of CBS Ghosts, then I suggest you read no further, because this post will contain spoilers up to and including the end of episode 20: The Heir

So obviously we know at least one ghost has been sucked off—but why? And who? I've split the potentials into four categories for ease of reading, so let's dive right in, shall we?

Section One: It's Not Happening

Pete

He is 100% safe. Nothing happened to him in the finale that would make him a candidate for the afterlife, and if he were to move on, then surely they would have shuffled the episodes around so it could happen after attending his daughter's wedding? The fact that that was an episode this series but it wasn't the finale means that he's safe, because it would have made such a good reason for him to move on! ...if it'd happened in episode 20, that is

Sasappis

Very similar to above, he did nothing of note in the finale. No plot revolved around him, and he's had very little development this series—sure, he got a girlfriend for a few episodes, but really, that does not feel anywhere near earth-shattering enough for him to move on. And again, if that was the plot-to-end-all-Sasappis-plots, then it would have happened nearer then end. Ya boy is safe

Stephanie

Yes, she got what she wanted—a bf—but if that was enough for her to move on then... why didn't she? That was at least a few days ago girlie, that would be quite the lag. And it would feel like SUCH a cop to say that something was going on with her that we ~just didn't see~ when they could have simply... reordered the episodes so that hers was last. So yeah, she's good

Crash

He is so far from at risk it's almost laughable. He comes back for the first notable moment since the pilot (a background cameo doesn't count) and in that very same episode... loses his head again. Nothing has been fixed or solved, so he is definitely not in a place to move on. Or, two places, as the case may be

Cholera Victim Nancy

She is honestly just not relevant enough to be the one they choose to off. She also had absolutely no plot or relevance in that final episode, so if it was the actor leaving instead of a narrative choice then I feel they would have given her something to make it feel warranted—as it stands, she's still utterly irrelevant and so, not really at risk of moving on any time soon

Cholera Victim Ralph

Now he, at least, got some semblance of a plot but... still. See everything I've stated for Nancy—combined with the fact that having him move on would also completely undo Stephanie's reason for not trying to destroy every couple at Woodstone; which was a great plot! But if it were to be repeated ad nauseam, that would make Stephanie's character go from 'fun and interesting episode hook' to 'good god she's awake again' real fast. And without Ralph... well, there's no reason for it not to. So he's safe

Section Two: I doubt it

The Unnamed Cholera Ghosts

There is a very low possibility of it being any of them. The only reason I can think of that makes them more likely than any of the above is if the writers didn't actually plan out anything post-finale; and then when it came time to write season three they realised that they didn't want to be rid of any of the main cast and so decided on sacrificing one of these freaky lil basement dwellers as a cop out. I am sincerely hoping that that is not the case, but there's always a chance

Section Three: I Wouldn't Put Money On It

Flower

She has indeed shown growth this season, especially after gaining closure with her brother and "getting over her commitment issues" (something I could write a very different post about) enough to be with Thor. However, if she were the one to go, I feel she would have had more relevance to the finale—yes, she was a part of the council, but she didn't play any special part. And surely they would have put one of her more crucial plots in the finale—her brother replying to Sam's email, or at least her first kiss with Thor—if it were truly to be her last episode? All in all, it is possible, but I don't think it'll be her

Thorfinn

Very similar to Flower, Thor has had multiple points of growth this season that were not relevant in the finale at all. He began calming his anger (to a point), he started up a relationship with Flower, and he reconnected with his son... but not in the finale. Again, I think if he were the one to leave, he would have played a bigger role in the events of episode 20, so I'm fairly confident we'll have another series of everyone's favourite car-denying Viking

Trevor

Now my boy has solidly shown growth this season, and has proven himself once again to be a way better guy than he first appears. He respects Hetty and her opinions, and I could honestly write a whole post about them and their relationship but that is not for right now. The point is, the growth he's shown puts him at risk—however, there was absolutely no focus on that growth in the finale. His relationship with Hetty didn't even come up apart from one joke regarding Hetty's banishment, and I feel like if he was leaving, then he would have been more of a focus in the finale instead of solidly background

And finally, Section Four: The Prime Suspects

Hetty

Similarly to Trevor, I do think their relationship would have been more of a focus in the finale if it was to be either of their last episodes. However, Hetty made multiple tearful speeches this season, including in that very last episode, which puts her far more at risk then her boy toy (affectionate). She's shown growth, grace, forgiveness, and humility—all things the Hetty Woodstone of a century past would never have dreamed of in such circumstances. However, to have her leave now would leave her relationship with Trevor unfinished, not to mention the fact that we still have no idea about the circumstances surrounding her death. For that reason, she's the least likely to go out of the ghosts in this section, but my concern for her future at Woodstone is still all too real

Nigel & Isaac

Now these two could come as a package deal or separately, so I'm going to discuss them both individually and as a pair. Right off the bat, I'm going to say that if Isaac goes, I am fairly confident that Nigel will go with him—there is always the possibility of Nigel being upgraded to a fully fledged member of the group after Isaac has moved on, and it would allow him to step into the kind of comedy the show relies on Isaac for (another thing I could write a very different post about) but I think that would only happen if Isaac's actor had chosen to leave instead of this being a narrative choice. So, why would it be Isaac? Well, to be fair, he has sort of ticked all of his narrative boxes. He's secured his legacy (with his book on the way), and finally gotten over the last of his hang-ups regarding his sexuality by proposing to Nigel—he could very well feel at peace with himself, and at a place where he could leave Woodstone behind for good. Similarly, Nigel has completed his narrative arc—he's spent the entirety of season two asking for a real commitment, and now he's finally got it. However, I do think the network would have to consider how it would look to finally give our only queer couple a solid relationship... only to immediately kill one of them off. Yes, yes, I know they're all already dead, but for this narrative, moving on is, for all intents and purposes, a second death. The best solution to this conundrum? Have them move on together—both of their arcs completed, both happy and content enough to leave this world behind and explore the next together. It's not perfect, but it's highly possible, and the best of the alternatives for the two of them

Alberta

And here she is, my most anticipated loss. We've spent the entire series unpacking and solving her murder, piece by piece. We've delved into her life, her loves, her legacy. We've seen it almost fall apart only to be built up stronger, we've seen it continued in the voice of her great grand niece. And, finally, she not only ended the season knowing who killed her, but why, how, and—the final piece of the puzzle—forgiving Hetty for concealing that information for the past century, absolving her of her punishment in the climax of the finale. Alberta would be a tragic loss to the series, but they have given her a lot of focus this series, and it certainly wouldn't feel out of place or unsatisfying for her story if she were the one to go

Now, if we were to look at timing of any of these potential losses then there is of course another problem—there would obviously be a rather significant delay between the last time we see the ghosts, and Sam and Jay pulling up in the driveway after their conversation with the Imposter Heir. Any number of things could have happened in that time, but I doubt entire arcs would have taken place off screen that would drastically shift the order of any of these characters—and if they did, I would have an entirely different bone to pick

But I suppose we'll just have to wait and see

[sinkingtime]

Remaking the DCU Gaiden 2: Electric Boogaloo

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3. I do have more stories I want to add to this, but there's a particular scene transition that's been kicking my ass for a few months, now.

So instead here's a bunch of additional lore, of the "canon but probably wouldn't come up onscreen" variety.

Correction: Pink Lanterns

There are no such. They are supposed to be called "Violet Lanterns". Sorry, Violets.

Correction: Kryptonian and faux-kryptonian lasers

When Supergirl first got her ring, I had her laser it intensely with both eyes. Kinda imagined her crossing them so the lasers converge. But if they can do that, it wouldn't make sense for Wonder Woman and Superman to wrestle her and Zod, respectively; they could have easily looked to the side and killed their respective hostages.

So, in this franchise, their lasers always shoot straight ahead, relative to their skull, independently of whatever they do with their eyes.

Add a distant shot to that scene in Red, to show that one of the beams is crashing against the ring, and the other gets lost into space. Maybe two shots, to show the difference as she increases the output.

Batman's timeline

Canonically, Bruce is in his mid-fourties in Batman v. Superman, and had been operating as Batman for approximately twenty years. A little tight, but I can work with that.

From Martha Wayne's gravestone, we know they died 34 years before the movie began. Bruce would have been 10-12. He then spent about a decade and half training, studying, etc.

I'm also going to officially say it was a random crime. Thomas Wayne was generationally wealthy and a reasonably well-known doctor (heart surgeon, I think? by which I mean that's also canon now), but he wasn't involved in anything that would warrant a conspiracy against him. Still Bruce was convinced there was one, spent a long time digging, until finally he convinced himself there was nothing to be found.

In the comics, Robin (Dick Grayson) was introduced one year after Batman. So let's bring that in too. At approximately BvS-19, the Flying Graysons die after a failure of their equipment. Batman finds the sole survivor, let's say he's about 12, trying to infiltrate the lair of the gang that they both suspect did it.

The kid isn't nearly ready for that and is obviously going to get himself killed, so Batman aborts, extracts him, and brings him to the batcave to talk. He ends up semi-adopting him, whatever a "ward" is, which I assume is just adopted but no change in surname? Sure, why not. He also does take down the gang, afterwards.

Bruce Wayne lets the world think he's taking this kid in because he was there, the day his parents died. He wasn't, but it's very easy for him to fake the records. Dick also becomes a vigilante-in-training, eventually wearing a darker version of his family's uniform, both for tactical reasons and to at least try to hide his identity.

A little under ten years later, BvS-11 or so, Jason Todd steals the batmobile's tires. They catch him, but end up not beating him up, and becoming sort of friends. He's one year younger than Dick.

The year after, Dick leaves for Blüdhaven. Let's say they have a good university over there. Jason convinces Batman to let him take over the position, mostly on the grounds that it'd be suspicious if both dissapeared at the same time. Dick fakes an injury on patrol, to give them time to train him, and then leaves.

Jason lasts one month. The Joker immediately captures him and tortures him for info on what happened to "the real Robin". He says nothing, eventually dying. By crowbar, because of course.

(And yes, I know it was actually the explosion that killed him, but nobody ever cares so I won't be the one to start).

He and Harley bring the body to the top of the police station, uniform graffitied as we saw it, turn on the batsignal, then leave.

The day after, Batman breaks into Joker's hideout to beat him up. Harley's away on some errand. He didn't want to kill Joker, didn't really have a plan but sort of wanted to hear him beg for mercy. But he didn't, he just kept laughing, stopping only when he was dead. Batman left, horrified with himself.

Harley came back and found the body. The next day she takes some hostages, Batman arrives to save them, but she instead defeats him, captures him and takes him to the same warehouse. I had vaguely implied this, but she's definitely the best fighter of all three. That's what tips him off, that she could have bested him at any time, and probably only didn't to spare Joker's ego. He bets on that, gets her not to kill him, and she leaves him there.

The next day he's panicking about that, afraid she may change her mind after thinking about it. He's trying to plan what he'll do about it, but then he sees on the news that she turned herself in at Arkham and requested treatment.

Incidentally, my Arkham will be much better than regularly. Obviously the Joker/Harley thing has to happen in there, but other than that I like the idea that they have a very good track record, actually.

Anyways, over the next decade Batman becomes increasingly more brutal, as we saw. The only thing I have to add is why the inmates were killing those that had been branded by him. That was never satisfactorily explained. Apparently the extended edition adds it to Luthor's plan, but disregard that.

Instead it'll be a crime boss that's paying for those, as part of a campaign to further discredit Batman in the eyes of Gotham city. Succesful, for the record: after the Doomsday fight a few people believe he was a good person after all, but it's almost exclusively the same that believe he died that day. The general public opinion is that he was a monster, whether he started as one or not.

Anyways, the crime boss is Arthur Brown, alias the Cluemaster. Who I guess is more of a supervillain than a gangster, but pretty much all of Batman's rogues have gangs anyways. This is a "more realistic" Cluemaster, or something. The important thing is his daughter, Stephanie, who will be about 15 as of Rebirth. Batman's very much not admired so she'll never be Robin or Batgirl, but I do want Spoiler for later.

Finally, neither Bruce nor Harley knew that Joker had always known Batman's identity, until he broke into Wayne Manor while possesing her.

Languages

Linguistics in this franchise started mostly good. When Zod attacked Earth, we saw his message being transmitted in multiple languages, but it was also imperfect and could be argued to be a work-in-progress, as they hacked the internet for translations. Sure, good enough.

The amazons also make a point of the fact that they speak "over a hundred languages", or maybe "hundreds of languages", I don't remember the exact wording. But, even if the specific number is ridiculous, at least they're establishing the fact that they have put in the effort to study. So, also good.

And the New Gods that attack randomly speak english, but they're aliens advanced enough that we can grant they have universal translation. Also, I removed them entirely, so nevermind.

The one that troubles me are the Atlanteans, who also speak english without further comment, but then Mera specifically didn't speak italian, and so we have to admit it was all provincialism all along and actually everything is stupid. By the way, did anyone watch the italian dub of that? I'm curious what they did with that scene. Please tell me.

I'm going to go ahead and say scenes like the destruction of Krypton and the like are in their alien languages, translated for our benefit.

Jor-El's hologram absorbed the language from the internet, as Zod had. Slightly weaker, but it'll have to do.

For my part, I already gave Lobo a language-acquisition device; presumably most alien civilizations use something like that.

And I gave Supergirl, and other Legion-era people, english but with a weird gimmick, to hint at the changes in their society over the millenium.

Green Lanterns in the comics can speak all languages, so of course I'll extend that courtesy to all colours, and then just for fun limit it to the emotional connection, so if there were a species of people who don't have a particular emotion then those Lanterns cannot comunicate with them.

Tamaranians in the comics acquire the languages of people they kiss. I actually didn't remember that when I gave them their gimmick, but I guess I must have been subconsciously inspired by it because now I remember there was a flashback to that in the Teen Titans cartoon. Anyways, that's now canon, and it is ultimately the reason why they developed that custom.

This means Koriand'r didn't have a noticeable accent; or more specifically she speaks tamaranian, portuguese and english with perfect diction for high class imperial, São Paulo and Jump City, respectively. Also, Komand'r now speaks english with the Legion's dialect.

Tamaranian culture

Beyond the "kisses" thing, I gave them an aversion to rings, a predilection to gambling, and the expectation that the ruler is required to do the paperwork that keeps the empire running.

The last one is just an excuse to make the older sister less villainous. Their schemes are to avoid the throne, rather than claim it. I can probably cry "realism!", right? Actually being a despot presumably does involve at least a little work.

The rings I prefer not to elaborate on. They don't know what reasons there may be. That's just how they are, culturally.

The gambling could be tied to a form of honour, at the intersection of "my word is my bond" and "let's make this fair". They could also have a god or gods with domain over luck, or promises, or something like that. But mostly what I want to say is that, when their mother was pregnant for the first time, she and her husband made a bet over who'd get to name that one. The Queen won, "Komand'r" is her choice.

Finally, back to the kisses, it's important that they be non-sexual in nature. Not just "don't have to be", but rather "cannot be". Particularly given the languages thing, since that's logically going to be how children first learn to speak.

That's also why I insisted Koriand'r be unambiguously straight. She'd be ace, but she has a boyfriend, so no.

That's also why, in their aborted sex scene, she wasn't using her mouth, and wasn't going to. From her perspective, the incessant kissing they do on Earth is more like spending a few hours going "no, YOU hang up!". It used to make her laugh, but in a charming way.

That was also after an indeterminate amount of time on Earth, and intentionally trying to distance herself from her royal upbringing. Because kisses are also, partially, an expression of authority, bringing one to bed would be more of a BDSM thing.

So if he'd tried to kiss her at that time she'd have been offended, and run away. Then the next morning both would have realized what happened, go to mutually apologize and generally communicated like the responsible adults they are.

If instead he'd asked her for a kiss, which seems more in-character anyways, she'd have blushed profusely and stuttered. She would have accepted, but not before kicking any witnesses out herself. I guess that's another thing, but let's say it's royal-specific.

Tamaranian nobility and exhibitionism

The servants that watch nobles overnight are trained professionals, discreet and respectful, whose presence doesn't threaten their senses of modesty. Naturally there can be occasional abuses, but these two are both individually powerful and personal friends of the Queen, so of course they were assigned the most trustworthy. She probably knows him by name.

As for Supergirl, she doesn't know her that well, but she knows she's his friend and she knows and trusts him. Also the fact that they didn't say anything when they were assigned the same room, which signifies that they're close, presumably close enough that she wouldn't mind them maybe waking her up, and he wouldn't mind maybe taking that risk. You just don't share a room with someone you'd be bothered being there while you (or them) use the room.

They wouldn't have even thought of requesting separate rooms, of course.

That still leaves the possibility that they were maybe close enough that she should be jealous, but she never seriously considered it. She trusts Dick. And then she did walk in and find them sleeping a properly chaste distance away; in three dimensions, even. So, her final analysis: it would be fine.

It was not fine.

Lantern Culture/Psychology

Lanterns can detect when people nearby feel the emotion they're attuned to, which I alluded to with Supergirl and the tamaranian sisters, but I opted to leave that ambiguous because she didn't know how that worked.

They also have instincts vaguely in favour of their emotion. They feel people should express their dissatisfaction, or share their worries, or etc. Some let that reshape their entire personal philosophies, some fight it as an unwanted side-effect of their magic, but mostly it manifests as subtle effects on their behaviour.

This is also part of why they are not united as a nation.

That's why Supergirl spent the entirety of the tamaranian visit trying to bother Dick, but not Koriand'r because she doesn't know her that well (and because she was the Queen). And it's why she decided to bother Komand'r via kiss, after correctly deducing she was upset by her sister kissing her because it's a display of her higher status, even though their relative statuses were her choice.

That's also why Koriand'r suggested she take her vouyerism to her sister; she wouldn't necessarily think they'd fall in love and live happily ever after, but she at least thought they'd enjoy the night. That does mean she thinks her sister is gay, but I specifically want to not clarify whether she's correct, for reasons that will come up later. Assuming I ever get to write that part.

As for Dick, he understood that the entire trip was motivated by Supergirl trying to find her brother, so his instincts were fully satisfied there. And of course the happy couple are happy and a couple, so that's ok for both.

Koriand'r also assumes, correctly, that his Test was specifically about his love for her, and is immensely flattered by that; but she will never ask, because it would be presumptuous. And because she knows, better than most, that "love" need not always be romantic.

Lantern instincts also predispose them towards wearing their colours and symbol, but the magic doesn't automatically swap their palettes. If anyone wants to teach them spells to do so, they learn those easily, but both Nightwing and Koriand'r redid their uniforms manually.

Supergirl is satisfied by her logo, boots and cape being red, even if the suit is arguably mostly blue; though the fact that it's such a resistant material, presumably hard to modify, also factors in her (subconscious) decision.

Koriand'r's Timeline

(i kinda wanna make up a different possesive for tamaranians)

The only thing I have to add is that, in hers and Dick's first meeting, she accidentally kissed him goodbye, not hello. She then made a bunch of jumbled excuses, then ran away. The next day they talked calmly, agreed to go on an actual date but take things more slowly, and thus the best couple was born.

He thought maybe he looks like her ex, or something like that.

Meanwhile, in the Legion's timeline, she lived out the rest of her life in hiding. Her space surveillance systems succesfully kept any space visitors at bay; without future knowledge, humanity wouldn't develop anything that could detect them until long after her death.

She and Dick did eventually end up living together and so he learned the truth, but he kept her secret. They did sometimes argue, that with all the power she had she should go out and help the world, and conversely that he had none and shouldn't risk himself like that. But they dealt with that like mature adults, and didn't let it damage their relationship. Happily ever after!

Because the relationship was in no particular risk, he never became a Lantern, and Earth had no influence from the White War, which is why Supergirl knew nothing about that.

Reproductive biology

I mostly don't like half-human whatevers. I'll go ahead and say Dick and Koriand'r cannot reproduce, would need to adopt if they ever want kids. Same would have been true for Clark and Lois, if he hadn't died.

I would actually like to extend that to Earth's three (four?) peoples, but unfortunately we have a canon hybrid in Aquaman, and arguably also Wonder Woman. So, sure, those peoples can interbreed, but I'll go ahead and say both of them are sterile, as hybrids often are.

Also, amazons. Sometimes they are human women who became immortal, and so there's a fixed number of them. Or sometimes they're just humans, who go out to have sex for purely procreational purposes, possibly in secret. I choose neither.

Instead they will be a sort of hermaphroditic species. I'm not sure if that's the right word: sex between two of them may result in either or both becoming pregnant, but one alone cannot do it. Also per the "hybrids" clause, they can induce pregnancy on human or atlantean women, or become pregnant from human or atlantean men.

That kinda makes me want to add children to Themiscyra in Wonder Woman. But instead let's just say they didn't let Steve walk over to the nursery.

Also I guess there are three more peoples. Aquaman brought us merfolk, which is good because I want one for later, as well as crab people and some mindless monsters that apparently used to be people. So let's say the first two, but maybe not the third, can interbreed with atlanteans but not humans nor amazons, again giving non-fertile hybrids.

That kinda puts atlanteans at the "center" of intelligent life on Earth. Which feels ok, life started in the sea, etc.

And then gods are magical shapeshifters, so maybe they can reproduce with anything. They're all gone anyways, so it's probably fine.

Finally, kinda, humans in the Legion's future are all sterile, and don't have libidos as we understand them. They reproduce by cloning, with technology perfected across the centuries which ultimately traces back to reverse-engineering the ancient kryptonian colony ship.

That's convenient for their Superman-worship, since objectively speaking he died without having achieved all that much.

That also means Supergirl's brother isn't biologically related to her; the word simply shifted in meaning over time. That will be convenient when it comes time to cast him.

Supergirl's predilections

Coming from, effectively, an asexual species/society, she also was like that. After her augmentation, she becomes effectively bisexual, by way of Sense Freak. She loves her augmented senses, and exploring and experiencing.

On the non-sexy part of that trope, but also probably serving as a metaphor for the same, she enjoys experiencing different food, varied music, etc. I picture the League having a series of social media accounts, probably monitored by Chloe and/or Leslie, which she'd use to request recommendations.

(Power Girl will eventually be extra-ace, for the same reason: her super senses make it disgusting to her)

Siobhan Smythe's timeline

I have decided she will not have or get any powers. She's just her normal friend. If there were a parallel show about heroes' mundane lives, she'd feature heavily; mostly because I enjoy the idea that Supergirl refused to hide, and haven't given that level of thought to anyone else's civillian life.

Anyways, Siobhan used to get dragged all around the world by Supergirl, to restaurants, concerts, museums, etc.

A little after she disappeared, Siobhan lost her appartment, so started secretly living in hers.

When she came back she found her, but decided that was fine, and started referring to her as her roommate.

Diana's timeline

I know usually it's canon that she's a doll Hippolyta made and the gods animated, but we're not doing that. She's Hippolyta and Zeus' daughter. I don't remember if the doll bit was referenced in the movie, but if it was, let's say it was just a cover story, to avoid Hera's wrath. They didn't know the gods were leaving/mostly gone.

Diana's genuinely immortal, but amazons are not, though they'll necessarily be long lived: Wonder Woman was canonically set in 1918, I didn't make that up; her mother obviously was older than that and I had her die about a week before Rebirth.

For more specifics, I'm going to arbitrarily say Diana was approximately 50 when she met Steve. Hippolyta is obviously older but not too much, as there isn't an older sister. Let's say she was about 30 when she met Zeus. So, between 180 and 190 when she died, but that was accidental. Let's also arbitrarily say she was halfway through her life, so amazons can expect to live about four centuries, if all goes well.

Speaking of things going well, or the lack thereof: in the Legion's future, Diana died in the explosion that visibly sundered Earth and left the moon outpost as the last remainder of humanity, some 6 or 7 centuries into the future.

The amazon she romances after going back to Themiscyra isn't the one that's Donna's father (for lack of a better word). Not because anyone would particularly object, but because I said she'd die and don't want to kill off both of her parents.

The gods' timeline

They are (were) shapeshifters, immortal and highly magically adept. Per Ares' fate, we know they are all gods "of" something; they are their own magic source, which is also entwined with their life and health. I'm going to say it was a single race of gods that inspired most or all pantheons through history.

Presumably all the gods were still around at the origin of greek myth, which obviously is hard to trace for certain but a cursory search tells me between 3 and 5 thousand years ago. At that point Ares starts the "evil god of war" plot, so they were all already starting to lose faith in humanity.

Zeus at least is still around by approximately 1868, to meet Hyppolita, and then is unambiguously gone by 1914, when Ares has launched his final plan. Clearly he was second-to-last to leave. Presumably trying to get him to come along.

Other planets don't have gods, in the sense that this race of powerful shapeshifters is Earth-specific, but obviously they do in that most of them have or had mythologies and religions. Some, but not all, may also have had their pantheons inspired by ancient magical peoples, who may or may not still be around.

[lady-crowned-with-stars]

She smiles into the kiss, just as happy as him that she has givem him a son, an heir. "Yes," she chuckles as she looks at the sleeping babe; watching as his little chest rises and falls with each breath he takes, safe in her arms. Gilrin is all too aware just how badly the labour could have gone, hopes that while she still desires more children that with the arrival of their son that getting her pregnant again will not be a priority, fears that giving birth again all too soon would just lead to complications otherwise avoided.

All she wants know is to spend time with their newborn and their daughter, and her husband as well as to get her strength back enough to perhaps venture on a trip, visit a town, the seaside perhaps; she longs to listen to the crashing waves again, to show such beauty to the kids.

Her eyes return to her husband as he speaks to her, expresses his worry so openly, her gaze softens. "Yes, the labour was longer than with Floriana, but I haven't heard anything about needing more time to heal or anything of the sort. There is no cause for you to worry, for either of us to worry now." She assures him, smile widening; knowing that both her and their son are safe, are healthy, unless either midwife or the doctors who are bound to check up on her in the upcoming days see fit to voice any worries of theirs. Worries that thus far have not been voiced to her, nor her husband whose concern showing beyond that of their child, concern for her warms her heart, that he sees her beyond her ability to give him a son.

"Would you like to hold him?" She asks, beaming at her husband with pride as she extends her arms towards him with their son, who starts to fuss with the movement but she shushes him and presses him against her chest for him to feel her heartbeat. He settles down again and she carefully moves her arms to offer the newborn for Commodus to hold. "It is time he gets used to people other than me," she chuckles; taken with their little one already.

"What shall we name him?" The brunette asks then, quietly as to not wake the child again. "Perhaps in a few hours, we could introduce him to his sister." She muses; another reminder that she has given him a child already, that she might give him more still, Gods help her! That there must not be a word of displacing her now that she has given him a son, even if she might not give him more; her lips quiver at the thought of not being able to have more children than two, but as far as she is ever she has not been given any indication of such an issue. The matter is that with the number of his concubine, he may have more still, and it would not do to have his illegitimate children outnumber his legitime ones in high numbers at least.

"I have a request of you," she sighs as her eyes meet his. "I know I have been tolerant of your... concubine. But I... you can keep the ones you have already. I know that some you have taken during our marriage because I... did not give you a son as fast as expected. And... I don't want you to take any new ones." Gilrin reclines against the pillows as she makes her request; relieved that she can finally give voice to such, even if nothing comes of it.

She did not dare do so before, while she had not given him a son, but now that she has, she hopes it does have enough weight to warrant such a request; that he take no more new women to his bed. Battling for his attentions with so many women already has been more of a pain for her than she has truly shown or given voice to, outwardly tolerant of their presence and what it meant, while imward thinking that something was missing from her, for him to go and take new women even after having her as his bride.

[COMFORT]: sender cups a distressed receiver's face in their hands and steadies them by resting their foreheads together. @empirexsin

"I wish you could stay," she mumbles, tries not to be distressed as another cramp makes her wince; their baby is coming a week earlier than expected than she has been told. She nuzzles against him, her eyes fluttering closed as tears trail down her cheeks.

"I... I love you," she whispers, kissing him before the midwife draws her attention away, tells her to move, she blindly reaches for her husband's hand. She knows she has been through this before, but she is afraid all the same, does not want it to go wrong, for either herself or their child. Does not want to leave their daughter motherless.

"Go," she cries out, even as her hand is there, does not want him to suffer through seeing her in pain like this, as she winces, and leans into the hand of the midwife who is rubbing at her back to ease the cramping, to help her through labour. She trusts the midwives surrounding her, but she is distressed all the same by the outcome, by what might be.

"You must try and focus on pushing, Empress," she hears a soothing voice by her ear, acknowledges it, tries to follow the instructions; her eyes closing as she takes deep breaths, to make it easier for herself. Wishes her mother could be here with her, just as she wished it during her first labour, hopes she is here with her in spirit as she pushes and prays for a son; an heir.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The Reaper and The Death Angel Part 38

A wanted to give a huge thanks to @sassychrissy96 who has given me so much motivation and help over the course of this fic. I'm really grateful that you took the time to share some of your ideas with me!

I'm back at Uni but I've put another series on hiatus so this will be updated at a minimum once a week.

Part 37

Series Masterlist

Contains: Fluff, angst, smut (Oral sex M receiving, fingering, bottom Jax! bondage, thigh riding, P in V) follows the plot of 3x12 - 2x13.

6.9K Words

Comment if you wanted to be tagged or follow #the reaper and the death angel

Loose ends and prison bars.

Everyone was over for breakfast when Hale arrived, "you want me to let him in?"

You shrugged, "I mean, I feel like I can let go of my 'come back with a warrant rule' for him, just make sure he takes his shoes off."

Kip ran off the let him in and he walked into the dining room soon after, Sam getting an extra chair so he could sit down, "please help yourself. There's enough here for everyone and it's all homemade." Hale picked up a glass of fruit yogurt and started talking.

"My brother is not going into Witsec. He was told if he wanted witness protection, he had to be totally honest about his dirty dealings and at first, we thought he was but then an Oakland cop came to the station with proof that he was going to get Mason Tutler's friend to burn down Lumpy's gym."

You let out a breath, "what does all this mean, is he going to prison?"

Hale smiled sadly, "yes but not for long, he made a deal for what he did tell us about. He's being charged with multiple counts of criminal conspiracy and fraud. If he pleads guilty which he is going to, he'll be away for four years at most."

You shook your head, "he tried to kill me with my son and a civilian inside and he'll get four years max. That's so fucking unfair."

Jax put a hand on your arm, "a lot can happen in four years y/n, he won't do well inside, we all know it. We'll deal with it when he gets out."

You turned to Jax, "who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend? I usually the one saying to watch and wait."

He smiled warmly, "what can I say, you're rubbing off on me."

Hale left soon after finishing his food, you were in the kitchen washing up when Gemma approached you, "do you know what Jax is doing with Stahl?"

Your eyes went wide, "what are you talking about?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, "Jax is working with Stahl."

"I had no idea, but Jax is a smart man, he wouldn't be doing this if there wasn't another plan in place."

Gemma pressed her lips together, "if the others find out, they'll kill him."

You shrugged, "maybe they already know, Sam could have had Jimmy taken out and he didn't, they could have shot the plane down and they didn't, something else is going on."

She nodded, "I hope you're right because if not, you'll be raising Abel all by yourself."

****

"Hello my love, how are things going down south?"

Jax shrugged, "Tucson is working with Santo Padre, looks like we'll get a nice income from that. We're no closer to finding Jimmy, we know he's still here but the Russians have got him locked up tight."

You nodded, "I'm sorry my love, at least something went right."

Your attention was ripped away by Tig and Kozik going at each other again, "do you know they're always fighting?"

Jax nodded, "it's over a dog, something about the dog liking both of them and Kozik taking her."

There was the noise of crashing and when you looked behind you, Tig had thrown a tool at Kozik, "ok, that's it. You two need to work your shit out before I drag you into the store room and lock you in there."

They blinked, "stay out of this."

You stomped up to Tig, "no, do you know what I did today? I did an autopsy on a little girl who had been beaten to death and left to rot in the woods by her foster parents, there's no one to bury her. Without me paying for a plot and a service, she would have been cremated and tossed in a mass grave."

Tig swallowed, "this dog that you're fighting about, did they live a good life?"

Kozik stepped forward, "yeah she did."

You crossed your arms over your chest, "then you have nothing to be upset about, she wasn't abused, she was loved, you should be grateful for that. You don't need to like each other, you don't even need to vote him in but this needs to stop before you get someone killed."

You walked inside the Clubhouse, went into the dorm and sat in the bed, Jax showing up soon after. "You doing ok?"

You shrugged, "everyone at the lab is looking to set up a foundation so it doesn't keep happening. We're thinking of calling it the remembrance project."

Jax smiled softly, "that's a good idea."

"What's going on with Sthal, and don't bother lying to me, I'll know."

Jax rested his head against your shoulder, "everything's going to be ok, the Club's got it handled."

You lifted your hand and rubbed his head, "Gemma thinks you're ratting, she's worried Clay's going to kill you."

"This is one of those situations where I can't tell you what's going on but I've got it handled."

You nodded, "I was thinking, before you all go inside, we should have that cooking competition between Juice and Bobby we talked about. I think it would be good for everyone."

"Great idea, how about in two days? That gives them time to prepare."

You nodded, "sounds good, shall we let them know?"

Jax stood up and pulled you with him, "lead the way my lady."

You had gathered everyone in the garage, after a quick chat with Clay, he clapped his hands and gained everyone's attention, "I know this has been in the works but if we don't do it now, we'll never do it. So I'm proud to announce, our first SAMCRO baking competition."

He put his hand up to quiet the growing noise, "the rules are simple, you have two days to prepare three baked dishes, one main meal, one party finger food and one desert. The taste tests will be blind and the winner will gain bragging rights until the next competition."

There was a rush of excitement, "see Darlin, you're always right."

You shook your head, "you helped, don't let me take all the credit."

You smiled as he pulled you into his arms, "we're going to be ok."

"I know Jax, I trust you."

****

The day of the competition came in a rush of excitement. You were all sitting in the back of the Clubhouse waiting for Juice and Bobby to bring food to the picnic tables. You could smell everything they had cooked, ingredients like garlic floating above the mild smell of baked bread and cooking sugar.

When they called everyone out, all the food was laid out on the tables, labelled so nothing was given away. The tasting was a slow process, with people going back and forth to try the treats again and again.

Someone had spent hours stewing butter with garlic to create the most amazing garlic bread you had ever eaten. There was a pile of soft milk-bread rolls and most crunchy puff pasty and brown sugar twists. Each treat was ranked from one to ten and the scores were calculated at the end.

Clay cleared his throat the help up a bit of paper, ready to announce the winner. "And the winner, by one point, is number one!"

Juice's hands shot up in the air, "fuck yeah, I won." Everyone burst out in laughter, "we are having a rematch the moment we are out of the joint."

Juice extended his hand towards Bobby, "you're on old man."

****

"Wow, you look, amazing." Jax took in your simple black dress, it was fancy without being over the top and was classy without taking away from the fact that you were going to the party to show your expertise in warfare.

"Well Mr Teller, I could say the same about you. I love the suit."

Jax smiled, "Billy hooked me up."

You ran your hands over the vest, "I'm happy you left off the tie, you ready to go?" You stuck your arm out and he linked his arm in yours.

"Ladies first."

Jax was in awe as you pulled up to the warehouse, "this place is huge."

You giggled, "I know, it's our largest facility yet. We have every kind of training available including drown and cold proofing, the ability to train medics all the way up to paramedic level, a hunter-killer maze and a handful of op stuff like learning how to communicate without talking."

Jax smiled even wider, " that's so cool, how much did all of this cost?"

You shrugged, "a lot, but we'll make it back within the first few contracts. Shall we head in?" Jax nodded and helped you out of the car, linking your arm with his.

The inside was decorated so beautifully, there were fairy lights handing from the ceiling and native flowers strewn about, "was this you?"

You nodded, "you bet." There were no clients there when you arrived, just your friends and some Anvil staff.

Jax was saying hello to Frank and Aden when a blond woman in a bright red dress came up to him and tapped him on the shoulder, "you must be Jax, I'm Penelope." She was pulling Jax into a hug before he could react, "y/n has told me so much about you, it's great to be able to finally meet you in person."

Jax hugged her back, her sweet perfume filling his nose, "get your paws off my wife Teller."

He heard you laugh from close by, "Derek, don't be jealous, have you seen the way he looks at y/n?"

Derek smiled and looped his arm over her shoulder, "I have, we're really glad you could come. You get to see y/n do some practical demonstration for our prospective clients."

Jax's eyes went wide, "what?"

You smiled and shook your head, "I may have left that out, I'm showing off some of our new facilities."

Jax smirked, "does that mean I'm going to get to see you in a tac suit?"

You nodded, "yep, full backout gear with night vision and everything." Billy clinking his glass pulled Jax's attention back to the room.

"Now, this wouldn't be a party without some entertainment, so I'm going to need some volunteers." When Jax went to put his hand up, you placed your hand on his forearm, "not you Teller, unless you want to hire us."

Jax chuckled, "I'll just ask Billy if we can have free rein when the party's over, I'm sure we can come up with some kind of bet that benefits both of us."

You shook your head, "you're insufferable."

You left just as Billy finished picking people and returned ten minutes later in full tactical dress. Before Jax could comment, Billy and Frank were escorting everyone up to the observation.

"As you can see, this challenge is five against one. Dr y/n will play the part of a bodyguard while our brave volunteers will play our bad guys. Now, we're going to play a little game, you're going to write how long you think it will take for her to eliminate all of them and the winner will get one free first aid class."

Jax was handed a piece of paper by Penelope, he ticked the box for two minutes and put it in the hat that was being passed around. He moved over to the window over the maze, watching you as you cleaned your paintball gun in the opposite corner to the men. With the blast of a horn the light on the maze floor went out and you started.

Jax watched you duck and weave around the pillars and half walls while the men looked around for you. Then he watched you take down each man in a matter of seconds. He smiled wide as you took the elevator up, helmet off and tucked under your arm.

"What did you think."

Jax sucked on his tongue, "the hottest thing I've ever seen."

You shook your head, "wait until we do the medical demonstration, you can see what I did most of the time I was in country." Twenty minutes later, everyone was on one of the main floors watching as you and Curtis set up the fake bodies.

"Before we start, we need to pick out the winner of the last game."

Billy pulled out all the slips of paper and went over them, "looks like we have two winners, Jackson, which doesn't really count because he's Dr l/n partner and Mr Cresswell. Your first aid class is can picked off the list in the hallway."

Jax's pride was tinged with anger, it was clear he had more faith in you than a lot of other people. His heart felt warm as you waved at him while you put your gloves on.

"Now, heaven forbid you get hurt under our care but we wanted to show you what happens if you are. No game this time, but we do have raincoats so those of you brave enough can get in close."

Jax took one without hesitation, getting as close as he could while you nodded to Billy, with the push of a button, the fake body started to splurt blood from cuts and holes. Jax watched you move with so much speed it made his eyes hurt then you and Curtis were stepping back before he could blink, the bleeding stopped and a happy chime coming from the head.

"That's what we call a live saving response. And if you pick Anvil, this is what you'll get no matter what. At the suggestion of one of y/n's dear friends, we are now also offering luxury packages that include trips to cabins and ecofriendly boat rides for both fresh and salt water."

You leaned in to whisper in Jax's ear, "Juice suggested it to Billy a few months ago. He'll get the first check when the first client signs up. I want it to be a surprise so don't say anything."

Jax smiled, "it's really sweet of you to give him credit."

The demonstration continued, he couldn't decide if his favourite was watching you take apart was watching you take apart and reassemble a rifle or climb a rock wall with a knife between your teeth.

Billy approached you just as the last client left, "how much money did we make?"

Billy smiled, "we close contracts on every person who showed up."

You jumped for joy, "that's great, I knew we'd do well but I'm stunned."

Jax put a calming hand on your neck, "after all that? I'd be surprised if anyone left without hiring you."

Billy got a strange look on his face, "y/n, give us a minute?" You were confused but walked away, "out of ear shot please." You shook your head and left to help take the decorations down.

"When did you know you wanted to spend the rest of your life with my best friend?"

Jax's eyes went wide, "you look at her the way Derek looks at Penelope and Frank looks at Maria. I know love when I see it."

Jax felt warm and fuzzy, "when she took me to the observatory party, I think I loved her from the moment I saw her but watching her pull that dress off the floor just so she could point out a storm on Jupiter really did it for me."

Billy smiled, "well don't get her anything with gemstones in it, that would be the fastest way to get her to say no when you propose."

Jax swallowed, "I didn't say anything about marriage."

Billy shook his head, "you didn't need to."

*****

"Hey sweetie."

Otto smiled and pulled you in for a firm hug, "hey y/n, how's everyone?"

You nodded, "good, I've actually come to ask you a question. I was thinking about you and Luanne and was wondering if you could tell me some stories?"

You spent the next two hours talking to Otto while he talked about him and Luanne, each story having a different meaning, some were sad, others were happy. By the end, you had a clear idea of what you were going to do.

"Why the sudden interest?"

You smiled, "you're not the only one Luanne told she wanted to start a jewellery company, I've been doing some research and there's a huge market for custom, personal and ethical jewellery. I want to bring the idea to Luanne and the other CaraCara ladies."

Otto's eyes got wet, "so you came here for what?"

You smiled, "name ideas, I think I have the perfect one."

****

You readied your presentation for the women at CaraCara, watching on as Ima ushered them all into one of the large sets where everyone could sit. "You're probably wondering why I all gathered you here today, the reason is simple. A woman led, independently owned, ethical business that everyone can share a slice in."

You clicked on the display to show Jeniffer's graphic designs, "we have all the skills we need here. We don't need any outside help." You clicked again and he company label showed up.

"O and L's Forever Jewellery."

Luanne sniffed, "the idea is simple, anyone working for CaraCara or any other CaraCara off shoots that come up can design pieces and then they get a commission for those pieces. There's also an option for people to custom make their own jewellery. It's all totally ethical and highly affordable. Thoughts?"

Hands shot up, "how many designs can we submit?"

You smiled, "as many as you want. The best way is to use the bit of paper I've included in the folder I handed you. Follow the instructions and measure your finger, or your neck or your wrist, then draw your dream whatever and go from there. If you don't want it to be published, then it won't but it's a great way to start because you're going off something you really like."

It took all day for everyone to be done, Ima insisting you join. "Is that your dream engagement ring?"

She smiled, "yep, I've changed my mind about diamonds since I met you but I read your paper on ethical sapphire mines in Montana and I was sold."

You nodded, "ok then."

The moment she was called away, you snapped a picture to save for later. Luanne walked up to you after collecting everyone's papers, "how long before everything is up and running?"

You smiled, "about a week, the prototypes for everyone's designs will take four weeks to be done and then we'll be ready to launch."

She wrapped you in her arms, "I can't thank you enough for doing all of this for us, not many people would put so much faith in a bunch or porn stars."

You shook your head, "thank your husband, he's the one that inspired me to give this a go."

****

'What's this I hear about a new company you and the CaraCara girls are setting up."

You shook your head, "you really want to hear about custom designed jewellery?" Jax nodded.

"Well, the idea came to him when I was scrubbing for an autopsy. I realised that there's no real safe way for people to keep their jewellery away from damage other than using a cheap safety pin. So I looked into fancy ones and it went from there. The way people view sex work means it's going to be hard for the women and men working there to get other jobs, this way, they have a steady income that can be branched out in other ways."

Jax ran his hand over your cheek, "but do you offer fancy safety pins?"

You nodded, "yes, for one hundred extra dollars, a person gets a year's supply of safety pins that can withstand most common damage. Every year afterwards, the person receives five more for free as long as they send in their five old ones."

Jax's smile grew, "I'm really proud of you for doing this, I swear every time I think I can't love you more, you do something like this."

You pressed your forehead to his, "I did it for Otto."

Jax smiled, "I'm so lucky to have you."

You shook your head, "you might change your mind after I collect my winnings."

Jax smirked, "dinner first."

****

Jax was sitting on the bed, smiling like a cat who just caught a mouse, "are you going to be nice to me?"

You shrugged, "it depends, you are going to be insufferable?"

Jax sucked on his tongue, "I'll behave."

You rolled your eyes and went to the cupboard, "yeah, sure." When you came back, you had two silk ties in your hand, "well, I'll be nice if you're nice."

Jackson's smile grew as you approached him, "what's with the silk, are you shit at tying knots?"

You shook your head, "no Jackson, I just don't want you to have bruises that people will ask about. We both know you'll pull more than I do."

Jax chuckled, "well then pretty girl, get to it."

You stood between his open legs and leaned down to kiss him, "are you going to tell me if you don't like something?"

Jax nodded, "don't worry, I'll tell you to stop if I want things to end."

You smiled, "good, hands out please." Jax put his hands out in front of him and you ran your hands from his wrists to his forearms and back again, "I have ever told you how much I like your arms?"

Jax licked his lips, "all the time."

You tied each wrist then tied them to the sideboard, "don't pull too much, if you slip out I won't be sucking your dick for weeks."

Jax shook his head, "you're going to let me go inside for God knows how long without sucking my dick first?"

You nipped his bicep, "good point, but you'll be home eventually and I have an almost perfect memory."

"You wouldn't."

You nodded, "I would." You kissed him again, soft enough that when you pulled away, his lips followed yours, then you stepped back. Jax went to grab you unconsciously, his arms stopped by the silk.

"You need to learn some self-control, so you're going to sit there and watch while I have fun."

Jax bit his lower lip, "whatever you want Darlin."

You huffed, "see that's what I'm talking about. I keep telling you I'm immune to your charms but you still keep trying to charm me."

He smirked as you unbuttoned your top slowly, his eyes following your fingers. You swayed your hips are you went, Jax watching you intently. You gave a little wiggle when your pants fell off your body, Jax stuck on the way your hands ran over your skin.

You reached behind you and unhooked your bra, letting it fall away from you while you ran a finger around your nipple, "do you want to touch me Jax?"

He swallowed, "what do you think?" His voice was tight, he was clearly having trouble keeping himself in check.

"I don't know Jax. How about if you can find some way to get out of your track pants without my help, I'll let you touch me." Jax started wiggling and shifting eventually, he slipped them below his ass off and kicked them off, smirking like an arrogant ass as they fell into a pile.

You stepped towards him and kneeled on the bed with Jax between your legs, the silk giving him enough room to be able to lay his hands on your thighs, "happy?"

He smiled, "for now."

You ran your fingers along the hem of his boxes and he lifted his hips for you to pull them off, they then joined the pile of clothes next to the bed. "I'm going to suck your dick now, don't lift your hands off the bed or I stop."

"Sure Darlin." You kneeled between his legs and kissed down his body, stopping to suck his skin, he was rock hard when your lips reached his cock. You looked up at him through your lashes, Jax smiling softly as your tongue darted out to lick the head.

Jax groaned and pulled on the ties, seemly desperate to touch you. You sucked the head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head while you rolled his balls in your hand.

"Just like that, shit I missed your mouth."

You moaned around him, Jax grunting as his head fell back. He pulled on the ties so you lifted you head off of him, "what did I say Jackson?"

He smirked, "it's hard not to touch when you look like that."

You put your head back to his skin, kissing his thighs while he groaned in frustration, "you're being mean to me."

You chuckled, "you've been mean to me plenty of times, I want my payback."

Jax huffed, "get back to it or you'll really know the meaning of mean when I'm done with you."

You stepped back entirely, Jax's eyes becoming fixed on the way your hands were moving into your pants, "I will stand here and make you watch me touch myself if you don't shut up and let me suck your dick." Jax swallowed and gave a slight nod.

"I'm sorry, go ahead."

You put your mouth back on his dick and went to work, Jax moaning as you wrapped your hand around what your mouth couldn't reach, "I'm gonna miss this so much." You felt a pang of sadness.

Nevertheless, you kept going, "holy shit, y/n." He tapped the wood instead of your face and you swallowed as he pulsed in your mouth. You pulled off him and stood up, Jax looking up at you with hooded eyes, "are you happy with yourself?"

You nodded, "you bet."

Jax shook his head and you climbed onto his lap, kissing him as you held his face in your hands, "just give me ten minutes and I'll be ready to go."

You smiled, "if I untie one of your hands so you can touch me, are you going to try and escape?"

He bit his lip, "nah, I'd hate to see what you'd do to me if I did."

You untied his right hand and he slid it from your knee to your thigh, then his fingers were moving through your slit, "you're always so wet for me." His thumb found your clit and he slid two thick fingers inside you. You did your best to stay upright as he pressed his fingertips to your G-spot, "just untie me Darlin, you know I'll look after you."

You shook your head, "don't be a scaredy cat, if you're good, I won't leave you hanging." Jax sucked on his tongue and his thumb became more insistent. You did your best to keep your knees strong as you felt the peak coming, "that's it pretty girl." You gasped as you came around his fingers, Jax moving to press kisses to your neck.

"I'm going to untie your other hand, then tie you to the headboard, are you going to try and grab me?"

He smirked and bit his lower lip, "you'll have to see."

You untied his other hand and he didn't move, then you took both in your hands. You moved quickly and tied him to the loop in the headboard, "you comfortable?"

He rolled his wrists, "yep, do your worst."

He was hard again and you climbed on top of him, "my worst, are you sure you want that?"

You settled over his well muscled thigh and placed yourself onto his skin, rubbing your core back and forth, "shit, I can feel how wet you are."

You leaned down to kiss him, "you told me to do my worst, what's to say I won't get myself off and leave you hanging?"

Jax almost snarled his response, "you wouldn't do that."

Jax pressed his foot to the bed and lifted his knee, pressing his thigh harder into your centre, "Jax, please."

He smirked, "please what Darlin? You're the one in the driver's seat."

You rolled your eyes, "you are an insufferable ass."

He chuckled, "you love it." You shook your head and grabbed his cock, before looking at him for consent, "go for it." You smiled and slid down onto him, gasping as he filled you, "fucking hell, you're going to kill me."

You leaned down and kissed him, holding his face in your hands, "hopefully not before you get me off."

Jax kissed your back, doing his best to take over before you were pulling back again and running your hands over your body, "if I let one hand go, are you going to try and escape?"

"Nope, I promise."

You let his hand go and it was on your clit before you could think, "oh God." He bucked his hips and you placed your hands on his chest as you ground your hips down onto him. "Jax, I'm close."

He groaned, "me too." You sped up, slamming onto him one last time before he let out a grunt and came inside you, the spreading warmth pushing you over the edge.

Jax was gritting his teeth, "you're squeezing the life out of me."

You giggled and slipped off him, "sorry about that." You reached up and untied him, rubbing each wrist before kissing his skin. "I'll clean us up."

You cleaned yourself up in the bathroom before coming back with a wet cloth and wiping him down and laying down next to him, "that was really fun."

Your eyes went wide, "really? Mr I can't let go of control liked that?"

He smiled softly, "well, for one, I like everything we do together, and two, you're one scary lady."

You pulled him into your arms, "I'll remember that for later."

He wrapped his arms around you, "I love you so much y/n."

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, "I love you too Jackson."

He rubbed his nose against your chest, "good night Darlin."

"Good night beloved."

****

"Well look who it is." Stahl walked by with her smug smile, "where's O'Phelan?"

Jax huffed, "MIA." She put her hand up, "you and I have a lot at stake here."

He chewed on his cheek to keep himself calm, "the Russians got Jimmy out of Belfast before we could get to him, he's up north with them right now."

"Putlova?"

Jax nodded, "yeah, we're into it. We got a brother in maxim security, Lenny the Pimp, but he's got no visitation rights so we've got to use Otto. If you can arrange for Lenny and Otto to get some yard time together, we might get a lead on where they've got Jimmy stashed."

"Alright, I'll see what I can do."

****

"Hey Opie, I would have thought I was the last person you'd want to see."

He smiled softly with a shake of his head, "no actually, I need someone to be honest with me."

You patted the chair next to you for him to sit down, "well you came to the right place, no really, I did lie to you about Tig and Clay but I'll do my best."

He waved his hand, "you don't need to keep apologising for that, you did what you had to do. I wanted to ask you about Lyla."

You nodded, "she's a good woman who loves her child and will do anything for her son, and I think she cares for you, what's there to think about?" He gave you a strange look.

"She pays her taxes and her job puts food on the table. You are in no place to judge her considering yours gets people killed. If something were to happen to you, and you left her with three kids, or worse four, do you really want her looking for a place that will take an ex-porn star or do you want to help her in the job she chose so she can get behind the camera if she wants?"

Opie huffed, "and that's why I came to you. Do you think I should tell her about what's going on? Lyla said you told Ima to go after the truth."

You nodded, "yes I do, because if you want more kids with her, she needs to know what she's getting into. Keeping secrets kills everything a healthy relationship is built on. You need to be kind to both of you and be honest. If she leaves, you can try again to find someone who understands, and if she stays, you know she loves you for you."

Opie put his hand on yours, "thanks y/n, we'd all be lost without you."

You knew the look in his eyes, "I'm sure Lyla told you about the jewellery company?"

He nodded, "I have her dream ring and her exact measurements. My advise, use that for inspiration and go from there."

His eyes went wide, "I know all things Mr Winston."

With a laugh, he wrapped his arms around you, "I meant it y/n, we'd be lost without you."

****

"David Hale at the door for you."

You pressed in intercom with your gloved knuckle, "thank T, can you do me a favour and take him to Angela and get him his own card? I'm in the middle of a post."

"Done and done."

Twenty minutes later, Hale was at the lab door, "hey, you here about your brother?"

He nodded, "he made a deal, he's got five years, out in three with good behaviour. He's going to a minimum security place down south."

You shrugged, "he'll never be able to hold office, that's all that matters. I don't have a problem with you David, and we're going to be working together. If you put the victims first, we're going to be just fine. Thank you for letting me know about your brother, I'm sorry your family kinda sucks."

He smiled softly, "thanks, who's on your table?"

You walked over and opened the door, waving your hand for him to come in, "Mark Patterson, fifteen, gone missing after school in LA. By the looks of it, he was killed by his bullies. I'm just finishing up now."

His shoulders fell, "we've been having some bullying at the high school, would you be willing to come and talk to the kids?"

You nodded, "hell yeah, my high school bully was a monster, dude almost killed me before it stopped."

Hale took a deep breath, "I'll talk to the principle, it won't be for a few weeks but I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

"Great, well you have a card now so just let yourself in whenever."

He smiled, "thanks."

****

There was silence waiting for Tig to vote on Kozik, he looked around the room at everyone's face, the anticipation thick in the air, "yeah, but I'm not happy about it."

Kozik clapped in excitement, "thanks Tiggy."

****

Jax awoke to the weight of your head on his arm, "hey."

You smiled softly, "good morning beloved."

Jax smiled, "whatever happens today, I'm with you, no matter what."

He rubbed his nose with yours, "I know, I love you."

"I love you too."

****

Everyone piled into the Clubhouse for breakfast, "hey, we've got something we want to say."

Lyla held up her hand, "we're engaged." There was an eruption of cheers and Jax pulled Opie into a bear hug, he pulled you aside when everyone calmed down.

"You didn't even wait to buy the ring."

He shook his head, "we're using it for our wedding rings, I wanted to give her my grandmother's ring." He was smiling from ear to ear, "I told her everything and she didn't run, you were right."

You smiled, "I'm right most of the time, I'll help with the wedding however you need. I'm really happy for you guys."

The plan to exchange Jimmy was going well, they were all sitting in the Chapel with Lowen arrived, they had the location for the exchange but not the money. Just as Opie was letting Jax know all the details, Chucky cut in, "I might be able to help with that."

He ran off and came back with a box, filled with bank notes and seconds later, they were bursting into the Chapel. "When I was running the counterfeit operation for Lin, I was supposed to throw away all the misprints and dirty runs, but I didn't."

"We've got three boxes full, twenty, fifties and hundreds, over five mil in fake currency."

Tig pulled Chucky onto his lap, "I'm gonna you my hand so you can jerk yourself off." Everyone burst out in laughter.

Juice went off to find a cutter while the others looked over the bills, "everyone one of these bills has irregular, any scrutiny and the Russian's are gonna know."

"What if we can frontload the stacks with real cash, give us enough time to get Jimmy out of there?" Jax drove right to the station and walked into Stahl's office. "Putlova wants two million for Jimmy. We got our hands on some counterfeit bills but we need to pad it out with real cash, give us some time to get Jimmy out of there."

"Where did you get the cash?"

Jax shook his head, "not your worry, just get up the money."

Stahl smirked, "we have access to two-hundred and fifty million for discretionary ops."

Jax nodded, "that should do it."

Stahl's tone changed, "what happens when the Club asks where you got it?"

He shrugged, "I'll say Unser got if from evidence."

Stahl went on but Jax stopped her, "you want Jimmy? You do it my way."

Jax drove back to the Clubhouse with money in hand and started helping everyone pack it, Happy coming inside about an hour later to let him know you were waiting for him.

"We'll keep her safe." Jax snatched the bullet proof vest and raced outside. "you sure about this?"

You nodded, "without a doubt, this is nothing Teller." He lifted up the vest, "I need you to wear this."

You huffed and lifted your shirt, "really Jackson, you don't think I'd come prepared and this one's stab proof."

He chuckled, "of course you thought of it." He pressed his forehead to yours, "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

You kissed him quickly, "everything's going to be ok but good luck anyway." Jax smiled and kissed you once more before leaving, then you climbed into your car and drove away.

You waited on the bearly paved road for the van to arrive, then popped the trunk and opened the passenger door for Miles to jump in. "I'll make sure he has a smooth ride."

Chibs smiled, "sure you will lass."

Jax drove away from the group as they headed to the Clubhouse, coming to a patch of dirt where Stahl was waiting, "where the hell is he?"

Jax smiled, "warm and cosy."

Stahl threw her hands in the air, "what are you pulling."

"Just keeping us both honest, you get Jimmy and my statement when my Club gets free of hard time."

She tilted her head and held up a file, "my recommendation that the federal automatic weapons charges be reduced from fifteen years to three years, parol in fourteen months. All it needs is my signature."

She handed Jax another file, "you give me this and any information on the guns traded my Jimmy'o and the Irish, all it needs is your signature." They went back and forth, before Jax out pen to paper and signed.

They showed up at the Clubhouse soon after to wide eyes and confusion. You were waiting with Gemme when they pulled him out of your car, "how did you know he was here?"

Stahl smiled and turned to Jax, "because you VP made a deal."

Jax was running at Sthal, "son of a bitch."

There was an uproar, "I did it for the Club." Gemma tried to step in but they were already being dragged away. You ran up to Jax and wrapped your arms around him, Jax hugging back with one arm, "it's going to be ok, we're going to be fine."

"Your clients will be out in three years, fourteen months if they don't kill anyone."

****

Unser finished packing and walked into Hale's office, "good luck son, you're gonna need it." He was pulling up behind Stahl before he could think, the drive to the highway done on autopilot. He managed to send away the other agents before the school bus drove up.

"What's going on here?" Opie dragged Stahl into the car while Chibs threw Jimmy out of the car and threw him against the bus. They made her watch as Chibs killed Jimmy, his bloody body sliding down the yellow metal.

As he pushed her into the car, Opie felt a strange sense of peace come over him as he raised the gun, "this is what she felt." Then he pulled the trigger. After ripping up a file, Kozik hit Unser across the face and they left. On the other side of town, the prospects drove by prison van and blew the horn, the hard atmosphere inside fading into gentle laughter, everything was ok."

****

You were tidying up when you found Jax's go bag shoved into a corner, his hoodie still smelt like him when you lifted it to his face, then something caught your eye, it was a whole bunch of letters, all tied together with a ribbon, addressed to Jax.

You walked it right to the bedroom and put it in the safe for when Jax got home, just as you were about to call Gemma your phone rang, it was a number you didn't know, "umm, hello. How did you get this number?"

"Y/n, this is director Vance, we need to talk."

Part 39

Thoughts, please? Your comments mean the world to me.

[candychronicles]

heavens // t. keigo/hawks

A/N: my take on the roommates theme for the bnharem collab! honestly didn’t know where i was going with this one and it seems a bit random/rushed so i apologize in advance but hope you enjoy nonetheless! 

CHARACTER PAIRING: Takami Keigo/Hawks x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,491

WARNINGS: oral (f!receiving), some language 

SYNOPSIS: despite his growing popularity, you two remained steady roommates, which confused you to no end. what was his true motive in keeping you around? 

And they were roommates! Click here to read more!

Hawks was an interesting character to say the least. when you first moved in, you weren’t all too sure what to expect. he was, at the time, a fairly popular hero, but nowhere near the status he held today. he was charming, suave, friendly and it seemed genuine at the time. things went downhill quick though as his popularity rose and along with it, his annoying, god-like tendencies. 

what you didn’t understand was why he kept you around after all this time. you didn’t necessarily need to live with him still, but as he got more popular and therefore gained more money, the areas he lived in grew nicer and nicer until you were on a gorgeous top floor penthouse with a stunning view, all for the price of your original, dingy apartment. what you could afford on your own would be nowhere near the luxury that he was offering. that’s why you stayed, but you weren’t sure why he offered to let you continue to stay with him after all this time.

sure, you were friends, got along for the most part and when you didn’t, stayed out of each other’s hair, but he didn’t owe you anything and you certainly didn’t want to feel like you were in his debt. yet something attracted the two of you together continuously despite it all. 

what you didn’t know was that Hawks very much enjoyed having you around. you’d deny it until you were blue in the face but he heard one too many times you touching yourself in your bedroom, muffled moans matching those of the girl or guy he was fucking that night. he often did his best to give you a show, cursing, spitting, hitting, anything he could do to rile you up, get you to hear the lewd sounds coming from the apartment. you acted like you didn’t know what he was talking about, scoffed when he invited you to join him or give you his own private show and acted like you didn’t know he was doing that all on purpose just to tease you. 

truth be told, you pushed all those thoughts aside when it came to him. he was attractive, very much so, and also very unattainable, in your eyes anyways. his god-like complex was annoying at times but also very warranted. he was popular with everyone he met-children, women, men, the elderly, hell, you don’t think he ever met a dog that didn’t like him. he was strong, powerful, commanding of the quirk he weld so well. his personality was nothing short of smooth, like honey over ice cream melting on your tongue. you felt so incredibly drawn to him that your brain absolutely shut out any idea of it, giving yourself no hope that he would ever reciprocate the pure feelings of desire you felt towards him. after awhile, your convincing became reality and you began to question everything, desperate to detach yourself from his enigmatic ways. 

hey sweetheart, will be gone for most of the day. left some money for groceries and a little extra for whatever you want. don’t miss me too much

-H

you scoffed at the note pasted to your refrigerator, neon pink glaring at you in the morning sun trickling from the balcony window. he had been gone a lot lately, sometimes bringing home people at night, mostly crashing straight on the couch before he had even gotten a chance to change clothes. you acted like you didn’t miss him, miss his presence, the lingering touches that you swore were just him being an ass and making fun of you, but in reality, you missed the hell out of him. the domesticity that he showed when it was just you two vulnerable late at night, tired from a hard day of work, it made you realize that he wasn’t a god all the time after all.

that thought didn’t change your mind about his attainability, however. in fact, it only seemed to spur your ideals on more, convincing yourself that a man who could be so vulnerable and yet so strong was one who deserved more than what you could give. it would never be you and you were content with that fact, or so you thought.

your day was long and grueling, working patrols and small missions as a pro hero. you were likeable enough but when it came down to it, you didn’t care to be popular, didn’t care to make a ton of money or be interviewed by dozens of people a month. you just wanted to do your job and keep people safe and at the end of the day, that was what you accomplished. 

it was nearly midnight when you returned home, the elevator dinging closed behind you as you walked into the penthouse. the lights were still off, everything in place from this morning, which meant that Hawks had not arrived home yet despite him being gone for nearly the whole day. anger bubbled up underneath your skin. you knew he didn’t owe you anything, you knew you were nothing more than roommates, but sometimes feeling so isolated and alone in this big space with no one to talk to or do anything with left you antsy and annoyed. in simple frustration and retaliation, you locked the balcony window, forcing him to come up the elevator like a dignified man, bringing his nightly fuck in through the lobby instead of sneaking them inside like he often did.

it was nearly six am before you were woken up to a loud thud, the door smacking against the wall. you sighed, allowing yourself to calm down before you tried to go back to bed, but before you got a chance, a knock sounded at your door.

“what?” you asked irately, not in the mood to entertain him and his antics.

“why’d you lock the balcony window?” he asked simply, arms crossed. 

as you sat up to answer, you noticed his calm demeanor not so calm anymore. his chest was flaring up and down, body wobbly, and he reeked of alcohol.

“so much for a calm night,” you muttered. “i locked the door because i didn’t want to hear you fucking any of your whores while i was trying to sleep.”

“oh baby, you know you like it, like the sounds i make, the words i say. all you have to do is admit it and i can be all yours.”

“you wish bird brain,” you spat back at him, done with the conversation as you shimmied yourself back into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin and promptly shutting your eyes, ignoring the feeling of his stare burning into your brain.

“i do wish. i wish it were you i was fucking. i’ve wished that since the day i met you, all excited and doe eyed, ready to take on the world and all of its challenges. you never let my fame get in the way, never treat me any differently. you’ve been by my side throughout it all and yet you won’t let me get too close to you. why is that? afraid i’ll break your heart little one?”

you sat back up again quickly only to realize that he had moved to the foot of your bed. he sat down, taking off his boots and shucking them on the floor only to crawl practically into your lap, snuggling into your thigh.

“i won’t break your heart. i’ll only hurt you if you want me to, which i know you do, at least a little bit. but i’d n-never hurt your heart. you’re too precious for that princess, so sweet to me, so so angelic. and yet i can hear your moans through the walls, practically feel you arching off your bed as you chased your high, desperate for a release, wishing it were me who was touching you instead of your own fingers. i can do that you know. all you need to do is say the magic word and i’m yours. no more fucking other people, just me and you. i’ll spoil you rotten, anything you could possibly want and it’s all yours. you’d never have to worry about a thing again, yeah? what do you say?”

your heart hitched into your throat at his babbling confession. surely he wasn’t serious, right? it must’ve been the alcohol talking. you knew that if you said yes he was just going to tease you and tell you that he was joking and never wanted to see you ever again. you were just sure of it… but, in the off case that he was being serious… you couldn’t mess this up.

“yeah, okay,” you replied, voice hitching in your throat as you agreed with him.

you waited a few seconds for the harsh sting of a reply but nothing came. you cast your eyes down to see Hawks passed out, clinging to you as if his life depended on it. sighing, you flopped back down onto the bed, heels of your palms pressed into your eye sockets, brain full of thoughts as you tried to sift through your feelings. eventually you just gave up and passed out against the cool sheets of your bed, too tired to deal with the emotional turmoil you were putting yourself through.

when you woke up the next morning, Hawks was no longer against your thigh but rather plastered to your side. you weren’t sure how you ended up being spooned by the lanky man but it wasn’t necessarily the first time you had cuddled. your brain began working against you almost immediately, convincing yourself that the previous night's events were nothing more than a drunken spur from your roommate and that he did not, in fact, want to be with you.

with those thoughts in mind, you began to wiggle your way out of his grasp, nearly making it out of bed before you felt a hand shoot out and grab you by the wrist. 

“where are you going beautiful? sleep with a man and then ditch him before he even gets a chance to wake up? how heartless of you.”

“oh shut up, you know damn well that we did not sleep together. in fact, you came in here at six in the morning just to simply annoy the hell out of me. now that’s what i call heartless.”

“we didn’t sleep together but we could’ve,” he teased, fingers rubbing gently up and down your arm as he attempted to coax you back into bed, but your mind worked on overdrive, simply not believing that he was interested in you at all. 

“why do you always like to make fun of me, huh? does it give you some sick satisfaction to dangle hope like that in front of my face only to snatch it away from me if i ever say yes?” you spat, getting sick and tired of his games.

“princess, i’m not lying to you, nor am i making fun of you. i would never offer something like this if i wasn’t serious. i want to take care of you in any way i can-emotionally, sexually, financially, anything you need, i want to give it to you. i was trying to drop you hints, give you the space to come to your own conclusions but it seems that i miscalculated how that pretty little brain of yours works. instead of believing that i was seriously flirting with you, it seems as if you thought that i was making fun of you instead. how funny that the mind works like that sometimes. i must admit i was a fool for not seeing it sooner, but now it makes so much sense.”

“what are you rambling on about?” you asked, furrowing your brow in confusion as you tried to make sense of the fact that he was not only dead serious about wanting to be with you but also psychoanalyzing your thoughts at the same time.

“how you would always get mad when i brought people home but never said anything to me, how you always scoffed at my sweet words, would never take money from me despite me leaving it very clearly for you, never getting too close to me despite living together for years. i’m honestly dumbfounded that i didn’t realize sooner. you’ve been in love with me for a long time too, huh? except, unlike me, you truly never thought you had a chance.”

“u-uh, yeah, i-i just, Keigo, what are you really trying to say to me?”

“sweetheart, be mine, wholly and fully in every way possible. let me take care of you like i’ve always wanted, always tried to do. this isn’t some joke or elaborate ruse, i’m not lying to you or trying to hurt you in any way. i really, truly want to be with you.”

you exhaled heavily, not realizing you had been holding your breath the whole time, searching his eyes for any sign of a lie, not finding anything except sincerity and hope.

“okay,” you relented, nodding your head. “yeah, if you say you’re not lying to me, i’ll trust you. i just, i don’t know. i never realized that you actually liked me back. i never would’ve guessed it in a million years. never would’ve thought i would hear any words like that come out of your mouth let alone so sincerely.”

you looked down, twiddling your thumbs as you contemplated the situation once more, but before you could let your brain get the best of you, Hawks placed his slender fingers underneath your chin, lifting your face up so that you could peer at him. he leaned forward slowly, foreheads pressed together.

“is it okay if i kiss you?”

you nodded your head, squeaking out a quiet “yes” before surging forward to place your lips on his, desperate to feel him, desperate to quiet the negative voices in your head and surround yourself with him instead.

he matched your pace eagerly, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck to pull you forward even more, his own desperation leaking through the kiss. he was so enamored with you, the way you smelt, your mussy hair, the sparkle in your eyes, the feeling of your soft lips against his own. it was almost too much to handle. he hadn’t been with anyone in awhile, preferring to wait it out and confront you when he had the courage to do so, and he felt himself getting more and more antsy as time went on. he wanted to respect you, treat you with the dignity and honor that you deserved, but in that moment, all he wanted to do was ruin you and mark you as his own.

“baby, you need to tell me if i go to far, yeah? i just want to make you feel good, never uncomfortable. let me take care of you like you deserve,” he panted, adjusting himself closer to you.

“i trust you Keigo. i’m yours.”

he groaned at the sound of you, of how pathetic and weak you were towards him, how you trusted to be vulnerable around him, trusted that he would take care of you. he had never wanted to ruin anything so badly in his life and he was going to do his best to make sure you knew you were his.

the kisses turned more sensual, tongues dipping in and around each other, exploring one another for what felt like the first time ever. for you, it had been awhile, telling yourself that you were too busy to be sexual with someone else when in actuality you had been craving a certain blonde all along. for him, this was something entirely new and special. he never got the chance to be truly intimate with anyone, let his guard down, want to please his partner more than himself, but you were different, special in the fact that you loved him for him and no other reason than that. 

“please Keigo, i need more,” you whined, fisting at his shirt as you tried to pull him impossibly closer to your body. 

“anything for you princess.” 

his shirt came off first, a delicate process he mastered years ago. he reached for your own shirt, fingers playing at the hem as he once again asked permission. you replied by pulling it off yourself, exposing your breasts to him. he immediately latched onto your left nipple, hand coming up to pinch the right, gently coaxing you to lay back down on the bed as he followed, hands and mouth never leaving your body. he laved you with his tongue, leaving a trail of cool moisture in its wake, sucking and biting at every soft spot he could think of, wanting so hard to hear you moan. 

“that’s it baby, don’t be shy. i want to hear you moan, say my name.”

you responded with a groan as his hand came to rest on your clothed cunt, feeling the wetness through your shorts. he smirked at the realization that you did truly want him as bad as he wanted you and the thought had his cock straining in his pants. it wasn’t long before he had freed himself from his confines, watching the way your eyes drank up the sight of him through the filtered light. 

gently, you reached out your hand to paw at his cock, marveling in the way it twitched at the slightest touch. you were enamored by him, all of him. before you kneeled a greek god willing to worship you, a mere mortal. you didn’t know what you did to deserve this but you figured you’d spend the rest of your life thanking the heavens.

“don’t worry about me right now, yeah? let’s just focus on making you feel good,” he cooed, reaching down to gently tug at your shorts.

you lifted your hips up without question, allowing him to pull the fabric down your body, your underwear coming along with it. he greedily watched as your slick stringed against the fabric before snapping. he was amazed that he could make someone so wet just by kissing them and was more than curious to see how soaked he could get you by the end of the morning.

he slowly dropped himself down to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between your thighs. kisses were placed to the soft flesh on your legs, pinching and nipping along the way, relishing in the squeals and moans you let out of your mouth. experimentally, he licked up your slit, watching how your breath hitched and your hands grasped the sheets below you, desperate to hold onto something. he licked again, this time using one of his hands to hold you down and the other to come and open you up. you responded immediately, back attempting to arch off the bed at the already intense situation.

he started up a steady pace, watching each little movement, breath, moan, grasp of the blanket to analyze what you liked best. he was enraptured with you, everything about you. you were so strong, fighting crime like it was nothing, doing anything you could to keep citizens safe and yet here you were, putty in his hands, baring your heart for him, trusting that he would take care of you.

the pressure inside of you slowly built up. it was like an intense heat you had never felt before, white hot and pulsing inside your abdomen. you clutched the sheets, your thighs, his hair, anything you could to purchase yourself to this earth as he brought you closer and closer to the promised land. finally, with one final lick, you came, crying out his name in a symphony of praises, singing to the high heavens.

he watched as you came done around his tongue, how your breath labored, eyes screwed shut, face flush and face twisted in pure pleasure. it was a magnificent sight to see, you so relaxed and carefree, enjoying every feeling that flooded over you.

when you had finally come down and your breathing began to even out, you opened your eyes to find Keigo still nestled between your thighs, head resting gently on you.

“how are you feeling love?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your hip.

“like i just left this world and came back,” you answered truthfully, laughing at his proud expression.

“are you okay? is there anything i can get for you?”

“no, Keigo, i think i’m okay,” you answered truthfully.

for the first time in a long time, you felt at ease. your body was relaxed, your mind foggy from the pleasure and you had the man you loved staring up at you like you were the only thing in this world that mattered.

“good, i’m glad you’re okay because we’re not done here. lay back down baby bird, let me make you feel good.”

[wandsandwheezes]

NASCAR III | G.W

WARNINGS // 6.9k // SMUT 18+, George x Reader // Fred x unnamed OC, Angry Fred, Racer!George, light angst, fighting, rough sex, soft sex, breeding kink af, mentions of alcohol, cars, sex, possession, praise kink, a (tiny) amount of degradation, oral, unprotected sex, one ass slap.

A/N // the series that nobody expected to become a series has now officially done just that. @darthwheezely​ and I do be hoes for these racer boys xoxo 🏎🦋 ILYSM PHIA MWAH <333

“Fred, have you seen my jumper?”

“Yeah, it’s on the bed, baby” he called. Fred was not often a meticulous man, but (as Lee said) ‘if the fit called for a bit of work, it was always worth it.’ 

And to Fred, going to a press conference with his exceptionally hot fiancé warranted at least basic perfection, right?

Fred made a low whistle as she came out of the bathroom, a towel around her. “Well, aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes.” She came to stand in front of him, pressing one, two, three kisses to his mouth, the flavour of fresh toothpaste still on her mouth. He hummed in contentment and wrapped his hands around her waist.

“Love, it’ll be fine, this will be my tenth, glorious win-“

“-and you almost got in a crash last time because you were being a tosser, remember?”

“Mmmm, that’s in the details,” he said softly. He searched her eyes and sighed, pulling her flush  into his body.

“I promise I’ll be okay this time, you know I’m a great driver and that this isn’t anything different...I still intend on marrying you in one piece, you know.” She chuckled at that and he tilted her chin up, pressing a kiss to her forehead and murmuring:

“I love you, you know that?”

“And I love you, Freddie...even though you are a tosser.” 

He slung her over his shoulder, rolling his eyes dramatically, and threw her on the bed, her giggling at the action.

“There’s my saucy little minx, now how about a pre-press test drive, yeah?...”

—

“I can’t just not go, babe.” George sighed, pushing the hair from his face, a sudden clammy feeling of his clothes against his skin indicating just how nervous he was for the up and coming press conference. 

“You’re running a fever, George, I’ll call Lee and tell him that you need the rest and that–” You rambled, pressing the cool back of your hand against his forehead, then neck and chest, feeling that thin veil of sweat forming against his hot skin.

“Don’t.” He mumbled all too abruptly, cutting your flow of words short. Furrowing your brows, you looked down at him before shaking your head. He recognised the tone at which he had spat his word, immediately pulling your hand into his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “I’m sorry I snapped, I know you’re only looking out for me.”

“It’s okay, Georgie, I still think you should stay here with me.” You sighed, climbing over his legs to be sat in his lap as you breathed out softly, watching as his eyes softened only for his eyebrow to raise, a smirk soon finding his lips while his hands rested on your waist.

“Any old excuse to keep me at the hotel then, eh?” George licked his lips, pulling you closer into his chest as he eyed your expression, the giggle that fell from his lips like pure music to his ears.

“I just want you better for the race, idiot.” You rolled your eyes, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, his lips finding your cheeks to pepper kisses there with a smug grin on his face.

“I think I could win this one you know, regardless of me being sick or not, I have a good feeling about it.” He hummed, forehead pressed against yours lovingly.

“What makes you say that?” You prodded, running your hands through the hair at the back of his head.

“I have one thing nobody else has; you.” He praised, only for you to bury your face in the crook of his neck, taking a deep breath as his hands ran up your back. “I love you so much, angel.”

“I love you too, George, more than you’ll ever know.”

—

The conference room was packed - that’s an understatement, really. Every journalist alive came to talk to the new dominators of modern NASCAR racing, George and Fred Weasley. Although, as George spitefully knew:

He was somewhere because of Fred. Again.

That familiar feeling of resentment threatened to bubble in the younger twin’s throat, and he immediately began to push it down. The fights, the mutual disgust and disdain - that was done now. Ten wins for Fred should mean legitimately less than nothing but excitement for his older brother. 

So why was that feeling still there? 

“Hello, everyone, I’m sorry I’m late!” Fred entered from the back of the stage, nothing but glimmer (and gloat) in the elder twin’s face. Good mood Fred could always either be an impending disaster, or one of the best things the world has ever seen.

Of course he’s late, he’s always late, George thought, before guilt immediately settled in. 

Fred took a bottle of water, winking playfully at the young lady who got him one, before settling in his seat next to George. 

“Right then, questions?” Fred boomed, that familiar sunshine of a smile very evident on his face. The man behind them, George’s manager was directing questions, and George swallowed at what questions would appear. 

“This is for Fred, do you predict another victory in this race?” The journalist asked.

Fred leaned a bit forward in his seat and dipped his mouth into the microphone:

“Does the pope wear a big hat, love?”

George however sniggered to himself at the question, holding back a laugh at Fred’s answer. Of course he would answer in the cockiest way known to man, only lighting a fire under the younger twin’s arse to kick into gear and take the baby driver down a few pegs. 

“Something funny, Georgie?” Fred turned his head slightly to the side, the smile still there, but dark eyes venturing into icier territory.

“Nothing, Brother, just think you should remember there is always tough competition, no matter how cocksure you are.” George murmured loud enough into the microphone for his words to reverberate around the room, some reporters eyeing each other before vigorously taking notes. 

Fred had been taking a sip of his water and nearly choked, eliciting a “sorry everyone!” into the microphone. He gave George a brief side eye, but no - he wasn’t going to let him ruin his moment again. They’ve moved past this, George can have his own fun, why couldn’t he be a little confident for a change?

“Hi, this question is for George,” Fred only heard that much before a brief but very definite prickle of resentment tingled at his skin. He started to feel a bit warm but was determined to brush it off, turning towards George a bit.

“You’ve had a fantastic season these past couple years, and although you’ve lost the past ten races, you still stick to the top five - will we get our own Crimson Wonder back, or is that Fred’s title now?” 

George held back on his instinct to bite at his brother’s ego, instead taking a sip of water to collect his thoughts before speaking, his mind trailing back to the words he had said this morning; ‘I have a good feeling about this one’.

“Fred and I both train hard, as does every other racer out on that track,” George swallowed thickly before continuing his sentence, “But I think my own winning streak is far from over, who knows, as you say, you may get your Crimson Wonder back yet.” 

Fred attempted to register and probably stop the inherently blank expression on his face, but honestly? It was too much. Yes, George was great, and yes, he was proud of him but.

Why was there a deeply unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach? Twintuition as they called it was something not out of the ordinary at all - but why was it that somewhere in the back of his mind he just felt this...this negative foresight.

There was one thing Fred didn’t like more than avocados (Fred hated avocados) and that was losing.

“My baby brother, so inspirational isn’t he? Gets it from my mum, absolutely.” Fred curled his lips into his mouth, gnawing on his bottom lip, in complete understanding of what he just said. The reporters didn’t have to know that any time he brought up their age or said my mum instead of our mum, it kind of lit a match in George. 

In short, Fred knew exactly what he was doing. And George didn’t really like that, but he wasn’t about to stoop to Fred’s level and ruin his public imagery, not with his wife-to-be and his sister-in-law-to-be watching and murmuring to each other with pained faces: they knew the tension was there too, of course they had.

“I think we should leave the rest of the heat for rubber burning on the track.” The moderator cut in, taking final questions from the press aimed at the others on the panel, letting the twins simmer in their own jealousy toward one another as the conference came to a close.

The boys’ demeanours had completely shifted, George staying behind to take pictures and leave autographs for fans, smile on his face and a sense of pride in his chest, while Fred had made a swift exit in just the way he arrived, looking absolutely miserable.

—

“Georgie,” Fred called out from the locker rooms, “just what the fuck was that?” His bare chest red while he angrily scrambled to get his uniform on.

“Please,” George scoffed, zipping his uniform up calmly, before pushing his bag into his locker with ease, “I could ask you the same question.” 

“I was actually trying to give the press what they wanted, a good show, you, on the other hand, just wanted to be a proper arsehole in front of everyone.” He slammed his locker door shut, his knuckles on his hand against it surely white now from childish rage.

George closed his locker with force, not so much anger, running a hand through his hair before picking up his helmet, his tongue truly in his cheek, the angel on his shoulder begging him to stay quiet while the devil paralleled telling him that it was about time he spoke his feelings. “I’m the arsehole? Check your own actions first, mate.” 

He breathed but he wasn’t done, the words flowing like vomit as he finally let go all of the bottled aggression, “You don’t know the first thing about being a racer, how fucking tiring it is and you use it against me like its something I’m not good at and I’m fucking tired of it.” 

George went to continue, but the guilt of spitting every thought in his brain suddenly overcame him, instead he clutched at his helmet a little tighter, taking a deep breath before muttering as he walked away, “Good luck out there, you’ll need it.”

Fred stood there watching him walk away, something a bit more unfair that self-loathing and resentment lingering in his chest. It was dizzying, it was a feeling he altogether hated and actively tried to pretend he didn’t have.

Fred Weasley, in short, was guilty. 

—

The Arizona sun was beating down on the track, everyone watching on with baited breath as each car lined up on the Phoenix Raceway, engines revving in anticipation of the start of the race. Fred was clutching at his steering wheel tightly, blinkered only on one thing; winning this one. George however, knew the racers he was up against; some of the best in the NASCAR cup and even some that had been driving as long as he had been alive, was lucky to find himself there, taking a deep breath. George wasn’t a religious man but in that moment he was praying to whatever god to grant him some good luck. 

The green flag waved, signalling the start of the race, each car zooming by as the engines roared. The race was a tough one and everyone watching on knew that. The first ten or so laps went just as smoothly as planned, a backhaul crash in the 18th lap just missing the twins, but nevertheless cutting the number of racers pretty much immediately in half. 

George grew more confident as he crept up the rankings, sitting comfortably in about 6th place for a grand majority of the race, while Fred trailed much behind him in about 8th place. The tension of the conference had truly stumped the older twin, pushing him to want to be up in the top dogs, but to no avail, every attempt was blocked for him. 

The final three laps, George was in fourth and Fred was nowhere to be seen, well sat in his 11th place, seething at his inevitable loss. The younger twin was content with his placing, watching the third place drop down to 5th pushing him into the top 3. George swore he felt every single beat of his heart as he zoomed past the lap line. Two to go. Third place was enough for George, especially in a race like this. He zoomed past the lap line again. White Flag. Last chance.

In a flash, a car from behind George pushed forward, striking the first place car, sending three cars spiralling off the track leaving behind only dust sparks and fire in their tacks. It didn’t click for George that he had passed the finish line in 1st place until it blared through his headset.

“I fucking did what?” He shouted as he continued speeding around the track, the confirmation of his win ringing through his ears as he let out a loud but satisfied yell, the stress of weeks of losses finally leaving him in an exhale, welcoming the new feeling of pride. 

Fred in the heat of the crash had fallen to 12th place, pushing him to be the last of all the cars on the track past the finish line - a loss he was not ready to accept no matter how much pride beamed from him hearing the news that the winner had been his own twin brother. 

—

“George, how does it feel to have a trophy back?” 

“Honestly, it feels so surreal - I’m so grateful for my team, crew, and absolutely amazing fiancée, Y/N - I love you so much, baby,” he shouted over the noise, cameras completely swamping the victory stage and hallway down to the bar. He had everything he could’ve wanted, you, a real win again, happy sponsors - but there was one thing missing.

Fred. Where was Fred? Did it really matter? He knew he hadn’t placed very far, but surely he wouldn’t be that angry would he? But then - no. No, George won, he deserved to win again after Fred had been hogging all the sunny days and he was still supportive. So where was his twin now? Even after everything.

He stopped you on his arm and said: “actually, there is one more person I really do have to thank.” He faced directly towards the camera, you utterly confused.

“Thank you, Freddie, for being the best supportive big brother a guy could ask for. You’ve always been a winner to me.” And with a shaky swallow, knowing he wasn’t here, knowing he probably could give a shit whether George thanked him or not, he went off with you on his arm to have a drink.

God knows he needed it.

—

The older twin sat in the lockers, his elbows resting on his knees, his bare arms and chest tensing periodically with pure and spiteful rage. What the absolute fuck had he done differently? He had been on his highest alert, his most pristine focus, what went wrong? 

He didn’t crash, he didn’t bitch and moan to his pit crew, he didn’t fly off the handle - yet - so why did he get the curt, “I’m sorry, son, we all lose sometimes,” from Vinnie, his new manager like it was just normal. 

Fred Weasley didn’t lose. Especially not after a ten time winning streak, no, he refused. 

So there he sat, knowing his fiancé was probably making excuse after excuse as to why her husband had fled the cameras and the questions, why he wasn’t congratulating his brother on his fantastic win - but he didn’t have the energy to feel guilt. All he felt was loathing. He barely didn’t register the soft clicking of his soon to be wife’s heels clacking against the tile floor. 

“Fred Weasley, what the fuck are you doing naked in the locker room, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said with great exasperation. She looked stunning, in that pretty little two piece skirt and black crop number, not at all like a woman frantically in search of her formula 1 MIA husband. 

“You look great, sweetheart,” he mumbled, barely looking up at her before getting up and turning to his locker, getting out his change of clothes. She watched his back ripple with tension and at the sight alone felt her thighs break for a second.

“So were you planning on telling me where you were or just sulking in here?” 

“I was taking a shower, actually...I don’t get why you’re so pissed at me.” He snapped, not even bothering to turn around. 

“I’m ‘pissed’ at you because your brother loves you and you’re in here acting like a five year old who got his teddy taken away from him.” She retorted. Fred turned around then, slamming the locker door shut for the second time that day, the sound echoing in the bathroom. 

“I’m sorry, what did you just say to me?” He seemed to punctuate every word in the sentence, but his voice very quiet - too quiet. 

“You’re - just get your clothes on and knock it off, Weasley,” she scoffed, trying to walk off the very minor but very palpable fear she felt, and the evident arousal pooling in her thighs. Fred, unfortunately, knew this, and in Fred fashion, was feeling quite a good many ways about this. 

“Get your ass back here, right now, sweetheart,” he snapped, his volume gaining to a low roar. When she kept on walking to the door, his long legs loped to a brisk walk in front of the doorway, right in front of her. She didn’t realize that she was holding her breath for a second until she exhaled, and his thumb came up to grace her bottom lip.

“Open,” he said quietly, and then she did listen, her lips opening up to his thumb immediately. He always did this mannerism, when he said open he’d open his mouth too, almost showing her how she needed to be before usually saying “theeere, it is” but right now, he was silent, his mouth pressed in a thin line. 

But then she bit. And hard. Pushing him off her and making him gasp, her heels clicked down the tile as fast as she could walk. But Fred wasn’t going to let her get away that easy. In an instant he threw his elongated and toned arm out to grab her waist, pulling her back into the wall, caging her in his hold.

“You’re being an absolute twat, you know that?” She spat. He delicately slapped the side of her face and squeezed her cheeks to form an o.

“And you’re being a prissy little bitch, but I’m still here, aren’t I?” He said harshly, scanning her eyes before yanking her in for a kiss. She immediately released a desperate moan into his mouth and he slid his hand through her hair and all the knots and tangles possible to reach the back of her head. His other hand slid down up her skirt to grope her thigh, hoisting her legs around his waist. 

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad, I swear,” she breathed out, before his lips messily met hers. He always kissed with his jaw, she noticed that, when he’d hit his strong jaw out to move with her and nuzzle her face and then she always moaned like she was doing now.

In an instant he was carrying her back towards the shower, the shuffle of so many movements causing the towel around his waist to fall off.

“You ready to take a winner, baby?” 

— 

After a couple of drinks it was safe to say that you and George had gotten a little closer than you usually would have sober. He wasn’t even tipsy, feeling no more than the pride of his win but even with that he wasn’t going to ignore the fact that his girl was practically purring for him while clinging to his arm. You were so desperate to pull him in for a kiss, hell you probably would have let him have you in the hall out of pure lust for your husband-to-be.

It had been so long since you’d seen him smile the way he was now, pride radiating off his skin alongside the heat of his lingering fever, making you remember that not only had he won the hardest race he’d ever driven, but he’d done so while sick. A smirk spread over your lips as you went to push up on your toes, lips pecking a gentle kiss to his jaw.

“What’s that for, angel?” He smiled down at you, his lips now ducking down to press a loving kiss to your forehead. 

“Just a taste of how I’m gonna congratulate my winner later.” You mumbled playfully as his arm snuck around your waist to pull you in tighter, leaning to whisper in your ear as his lips grazed over your earlobe.

“Guess I should think about getting you to bed then, yeah? That what you want bub?” He pulled away from your ear with a grin stretching from ear to ear.

You nodded bashfully, letting him tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the rosy hue on his cheeks apparent just from being close to you, in this moment. George didn’t care about the press or his manager or really even the win anymore, not when he had you right in front of him, begging him short of being on your knees. 

He made an excuse, whatever it had to be to get you alone, to get away from the champagne, cameras and chatting. His jacket was draped over your shoulders as you found your way out of the celebration lounge, giggling like teenagers as you walked hand in hand to his car, the echoes of laughter humming around the underground car park before he had you trapped between his body and the passenger side door.

“I can’t wait to get you back to our room.” He mumbled, lips just hovering inches away from yours. His hand slipped just under the hem of your top, his hot touch sending sparks flying through you.

“The things I want you to do to me, Weasley.” You breathed out, hand reaching behind his head to pull his lips down to yours, letting him leave no gaps between you, him and his car. 

“Oh yeah?,” he murmured breathlessly, nose knocking against yours, “Like what, princess? Don’t be shy, we have a whole journey for you to run that pretty mouth of yours.”

“You’ll ruin me one day if you keep talking like that, George.” 

“I think I’ll ruin you tonight instead, love.” 

—

“Freddie, please-“

“No, I’m not stopping until you cum on me, princess, I deserve that much,” he snarled, his cock rippling through her over and over. He had intended on fucking all his anger out on her ever since he pushed her into the shower, everything only mouths and melded hands. 

“Feels - feels so good, Freddie” she whined, her legs barely able to sustain being wrapped around him. His hips whipcracked into her at an entirely new angle, prompting her to mewl and claw at his back like a cat. 

“Oh my poor baby, can she not take my cock? Would another racer do a better job at - “ he pushed deeper into that new spot, her mewls and whines turning to wanton cries. “ - stretching you out instead of me?”

“No one can do this, Fred, I promise, love,” she murmured, her eyes rolling vacantly to the back of her head. He sensed her climax was arriving soon, she was like butter under his hot embrace.

“Look at me,” he growled, squeezing her face and tilting it upwards. “I want to see my prize when she makes a mess everywhere, you hear me, princess?” Her widened eyes bore into his deep chocolate ones and when she finished, she truly could not look at anything else except him, it was always him and only him that made her feel like this. 

“Thaaaat’s it, baby, look at you, being such a dirty little girl for me. You like making messes for me, princess?” He cooed, his soft and caring tone a total opposite to the way he pulled out and slammed back in, making her scream and be flush against him. 

“M-mhm,” she murmured, Fred shaking his head as he chuckled, carrying her dripping out of the shower, still inside her. “Do you want me to take you off?” He whispered, the anger still in his throat, but...she would always be more important. Making her feel safe was always important, even in the worst of his rage. Fortunately, she nodded at him and kissed his jaw, a soothing gesture that always meant she loved him, everything was okay, he didn’t hurt her. He smoothed the top of her wet hair down and gave the top of her head a kiss, his ring finger stroking against the centre of her spine.

But then, a certain thought excited him blackly. 

“Baby…who put that ring on you?” He asked pensively. No, he didn’t win that idiotic fucking race, and no, he didn’t beat his brother in this race but - he still won her. He suddenly felt his dick twitch deep inside her and he groaned, clenching his jaw at the sudden awareness of her engagement ring digging into his shoulder. He fully stopped looking at the ground and the towel on the locker hanger, reaching for it and dropping it flat on the ground.

“F-Freddie?” She asked weakly.

“Mhm?”

“What - what are you doing?” She released a high pitch whine at the feeling of Fred twitching again, and at that he flipped her over on the towel, backside up, his cunt and his ass being fully presented to him like that. And then he moaned, his eyes shutting after and his jaw rolling when he saw her buck her ass up to try and meet him wherever he was behind her. 

“God, you are just a good for nothing little Formula 1 whore aren’t you?” He breathed out, his hands sliding to cup her ass and squeezing, relishing in the scarlet rash of skin that came and went with a blink of an eye. 

“You’d like to think so,” she quietly quipped, his hands suddenly freezing on her ass.

“Oh...is that so? Well, then…” and at that he slowly began to squeeze again until she was squirming, then bringing his hand down to the centre of her ass, a loud smack echoing in the room. She cried into the towel and bucked her ass towards him once again. 

“Yes, yes, I’m a Formula 1 whore,” she wept, Fred chuckling and positioning his cock at her entrance, just barely letting his tip brush her cunt.

“What if I just stayed here, hmm? Didn’t even let you have my cock, just gave you a taste of what it would be like to get fucked by me and go use another checkered flag slut instead, that sound good, baby?” He said crisply, trying not to let the tortured feeling of his cock get to him. 

“Fred, I-“ and with a final growl, Fred pushed himself to the brim inside her once more. She cried out his name into the towel, his free hand not bracing himself from behind pushing her head into the towel. He was devouring every noise that came from her mouth, mostly strained cries and pants that registered with every crack of his hips inside her. He felt her near her release again, his as well, his hips losing tempo.

“Gonna marry you and stuff you with aaaall my babies, isn’t that right princess? Gonna make my trophy wife swell up, you won’t be able to even fathom seeing that pretty pussy of yours in the morning” He panted, groaning at the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing in her - in his - cunt. 

“Please, wanna be so full, of your...of your babies, Fred,” she whimpered, his name falling from her lips like alphabet soup as she, with a final rock of her ass against him, came undone around him. He gripped her hips and with a sharp “I love you, fuck” followed her in the same way, his hips rolling ever so gently back into her to soothe their highs.

After a moment he pulled out of her, dismantling the baby hairs sticking to her forehead out the way, pressing kiss after kiss there. 

“Weasley, you got any car plush toys on you by chance?” She quipped, prompting a grin from Fred and a chaste kiss to her lips and nose.

“No, but the Babies R Us near home might…”

—

The second you were parked up, George had his hand snaked around the back of your neck pulling you in to peck your lips over and over, warm and comforting giggles slipping from your lips between every kiss. The trip up to your room took twice the time it would usually take, stopping frequently to evade the hotel staff, as well as missing your floor entirely in the elevator; too distracted by the taste of his lips and the way his hands gripped desperately at your hips.

Once well inside your hotel room, you found yourself underneath him, hair sprawled out beneath you as he marvelled at your beauty. A toothy grin spread across his lips before his head ducked down to press a kiss just below your ear, sucking a deep purple mark against your warm skin as a giggle erupted through his throat, the vibrations causing you to do the same, hands pressed against his shoulders to push him away. 

“Good lord, woman, I love you.” He breathed out, his lips moving to press a kiss to your forehead. You sighed out a moan as his fingers slipped underneath the hem of your shirt, bunching the fabric up as he pushed it up your torso and over your bra, exposing the plain but gorgeous lace.

His lips soon pressed against your exposed skin, sucking mark after mark down the valley of your breasts, humming in satisfaction at the way you writhed beneath him as your hands wove through his soft, ginger locks, tousling them perfectly as you giggled together.

“You may have won today, Georgie, but I’m winning now.” You whined, keeping him pulled close to you as his free hand snuck just underneath the hem of your skirt, fingers brushing against your sensitive clit as he swallowed each and every moan, taking pleasure in slipping the flimsy lace to the side to sink his fingers into you quickly and with no mercy, letting you chant his name as you begged for more. 

It didn’t take much for him to oblige, hardly pulling away from you to slip his cock free, teasing your entrance for a moment before he was pushing slowly into you, letting you get used to the feeling of the first few inches, only for him to pull back out, chuckling darkly at the way you writhed against the sheets. “Baby please, don’t tease me like that.” 

He pouted mockingly, dipping his head down to press a slow and intimate kiss to your lips, nose nudging against yours before he mumbled into the kiss, letting you lean into it. “As you wish, princess.” 

Almost all at once, you felt him move your hips to the right position, continuing to tease you as he sank slowly into you, not daring to pull away again as he eyed the way your face contorted with pleasure, your hands slipping under the thin t-shirt, he wore, pulling it over his head and tossing it across the room, your nails dragging down the freshly exposed skin, pulling a groan from him.

“I’m gonna fuck you so deep, bub, gonna make you scream and give you a baby.” He groaned, hands pressing your head down to the mattress as he cradled it, hot breath fanning over your face as his slow thrusts pulled moan after moan from you.

His strong arm hooked underneath you, pulling you up and into his chest, as his hips continued in pushing in and out of you at the most antagonising pace. He smirked at the way your head immediately fell to rest on his shoulder, your eyes squeezing shut from the new angle. 

“Bet you’re loving this aren’t you? Not so bold anymore, angel.” His gravelly voice rumbled through your ear, hand gripping that little bit tighter as he felt your small shallow breaths growing deeper at the intensely slow lovemaking you were far from expecting tonight.

“I’m still bold.” You whispered, nudging forward to pull his earlobe between your teeth before peppering sloppy, wet kisses along his neck.

“Funny one, love.” He smirked, beginning to pick the pace up a notch, enough to bring the hanging release down on you, pushing you to be clenching around him as you begged for it. “I knew you’d like that.”

He had a way of completely dumbfounding you, making you lost for words, finding yourself against the sheets fully again, this time he had hooked your legs over his shoulders only to lean down and press his lips to yours, all the time his skilled fingers toyed with your clit. 

You felt as if every sense had been awoken, stimulated by his very touch like a fire had been lit around you, pulling you into the embrace of the flames as you found yourself screaming his name, the inevitable high falling over you.

“That’s it, baby, doing so good for me…” He breathed heavily, his lips pressing to your forehead as he continued to ride out your high, his own release painting your walls as he fucked it into you, pulling true on his promise of filling you up.

You felt so full, his love washing through you from head to toe as he lazily kissed you, slipping your legs off his shoulders to pull you back into his arms, keeping himself bottomed out inside of you. 

“I’m dead serious about giving you a baby, princess.” He chuckled, hand trailing up and down your back as he traced languid shapes into your soft skin.

“Good, I’m dead serious about having your baby.”

—

Fred knocked on the door, his foot tapping on the carpet outside George’s hotel room. He was always a fidgety man, but today would be all too different for the eldest Weasley twin. 

He knocked once more, altogether considering just going home and leaving a lengthy but probably nonsense voicemail, if not entirely fueled by alcohol then by sheer force of nature that was his fiancé alone. 

He had decided on giving up, his legs stretching as he turned around. But then the door opened, the equally messy haired ginger behind it looking so much calmer and more serene than Fred ever could. 

“Heya, Georgie,” Fred breathed out. George would never have said it out loud, but Fred looked like absolute death. He could tell his older brother had gotten little to no sleep, his eyes sunken in. He knew Fred was hurting, and George never was one to rub it in. If anything, George would always be the one who understood him the most, they rarely ever had to apologize to each other for things like this, their souls simply understanding when pain was evident. 

“Morning, Freddie…” George spoke warmly, crossing his arms over his chest for a moment, smiling lazily at his twin as he pondered his next move. “D’you wanna come in?” 

“Yeah...yeah, that’d be nice,” he swallowed, smiling softly at his slightly younger (but in many ways, much older) twin. 

George stepped aside, letting his brother in as he shut the door behind him. He rubbed his hands together, a smile that rounded his cheeks on his face as he sensed the awkwardness in the room. This wasn’t like them at all. “Everyone missed you yesterday, Fred, parties aren’t the same without you.”

“As in, no one drank all the rum and Coke at the party without me is what I’m hearing?” He cracked a small smile, attempting to avoid as much eye contact with Georgie that wasn’t necessary. 

“George, I’m so sorry.” He said softly, his jaw stilling. 

“You don’t have to apologise, Fred.”

“No, but I do. I...I know how special being behind the wheel is to you, and you’re right. I don’t know what it means to win, at least not like you, and...George, you’re my best friend, stupid.” He aggressively wiped under his eyes. “I want to be happy for you and lately I haven’t even been thankful for you and that isn’t fair, mate, I...I love you. So much.”

“I feel like I was losing you there, Freddie, I’ve hardly seen you, we don’t talk unless it’s a press conference and just… Fuck I hate this, I miss being able to call you and talk about all the dumb things we can do together.” George sighed, looking up to the ceiling to stop the tears from falling.

Fred’s, however, were already hitting the ground. “I hate it too, Georgie...I hate it so much. It’s fun, being a racer like you - with you - but I just...I want to fix your tires again, man” he tearfully chuckled, watching George do the same. “I want to say stupid shit like ‘baby brother, your blinker fluid is out’ over the headset and listen to you cuss me out, and I want to be able to know I’m still on your team at the end of the day.” He curled his lip inward. “That’s all I’ve wanted. Is to be on your team.” 

“You have no idea what it’s like to win without you, when you’re out there making sure that everything is okay I just know my big brother is there looking out for me and I miss it, I miss telling everyone that it was you who made it possible, Freddie, you’re my star man.” George smiled, scratching his arm nervously, wanting nothing more than for things to be like old times.

Fred let out a breathy laugh, his eyes still brimming with fresh tears. “I’m the last one to thank, you big wanker, I don’t drive the damn thing constantly, that’s all you and your foolishness.” He swallowed. “I just...if you’ll have me back, I already talked to the Wood Brothers and everything but um...there’s a deal where I would be able to also drive once a month or so, and be your Pit Crew Pit Bull the other races. If that was okay with you - I want to be there with you again.” His knee bounced in the silence, his guilt and fear bouldering in his throat.

“I’d want nothing more than to have you back, I think it’ll be good for you to still stay driving, you have to get that adrenaline fill somewhere… I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud of you, proud of what you’ve achieved.” George smiled, the toothy grin brightening up the room as the awkwardness seemed to fade. “Even though you do become a cocky bastard sometimes.” 

Fred scoffed and rolled his eyes. “One does not become a cocky bastard, Georgie-kins, one is a cocky bastard...also, I have to be,” he said getting up and moving to where George was sitting. “if I’m going up against my snot-nosed little brother who’s getting married and is going to expect me to babysit for a thousand hateful children,” he waggled his eyebrows and threw a pillow at him. “But thank you...I mean that. You know you’re easily the best on that track every time. Every time. I’m...I'm proud to be your twin, Georgie.”

“I don’t know how I survived without your brilliant humour gracing us all, Freddie, I truly missed the inspiring wit,” George chuckled, gently nudging his twin with his fist, “After all, you’re not too bad of a brother to have, not everyone can be me but you’re as close as anyone’s gonna get.” He smirked, eyebrow raised as he looked over to his twin.

“I truly am so distraught I did not destroy you in the womb when I had the shot, but here’s to the wish anyway,” full on slamming George in the face with the pillow and howling at the action. “Top that, bitch,” he barked.

“It’s on now.” George laughed, throwing the pillow back at his brother, sending an eruption of laughter echoing around the hotel room, the two boys flinging cushions around like there was no tomorrow.

But the laughter didn’t end, only continuing as loud roars and giggles as time passed. You found yourself swinging your legs out of bed, trudging towards the source of the noise, only to find feathers everywhere and the twins laughing together in a childlike manner. “Could the two of you be any more loud?” 

“Sorry, baby… didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Yeah, sorry, Y/N.” Fred chimed in.

“You’re damn lucky it isn’t early, Weasley.” You sighed, rolling your eyes as you shuffled off towards the warm embrace of the morning shower, thankful to see the twins as they should be, happy and together once again.

A/N //  so phia and i have pretty much decided that we’re gonna keep this going so... part IV coming sooooon ;))))

taglist // @slytherinsunrise @gcdricreads @theweasleysredhair @vogueweasley @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @witch-and-a-half @loony-loopy-lupinn @rip-us @hopemalfoyweasley @whizboingies @pansydaisy @darthwheezely @lumos-barnes @starlightweasley @valwritesx @weelittleweasley​

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

You wrote your opinions on the Order of the Phoenix, what about the Death Eaters? That's another way of saying Lucius, Bellatrix, and anybody else. I honestly feel that we're running out of HP characters for you to write your opinion and reasoning about, so yeah~

We honestly are. When people start asking me questions about Harry’s nameless and faceless classmates I feel like we’re scraping the bottom of my barrel of Harry Potter opinions.

Though, that said, this is still a very large ask if you want me to analyze very Death Eater ever or even the Death Eaters as a whole (which is worthy of its own post).

So, we’ll compromise, and I’ll just look at the two you name dropped.

Lucius Malfoy

To me, Lucius is by far one of the more intelligent Death Eaters. He’s the guy who makes them almost look classy. I say almost, because Lucius is still a racist domestic terrorist and as the series goes on Tom gleefully drags him into being less classy by the minute (his house becomes a POW camp and housing for the dregs of society, Lucius just sobs, trying to be thankful he’s somehow still alive).

Lucius is rich, sophisticated, and is probably the most politically powerful man in the country. He has a beautiful wife he has... a son (sorry Draco, but you do not live up to your father) the guy has it all.

Which makes it very surprising that he got dragged into this mess. But you see, Lucius is paying for that tragedy we call youth.

Also, as a caveat, I’m about to headcanon hard and will not bother to get into the details of why I think x, y, or z in this post.

Ten years prior to the start of canon, Lucius is a very young man, probably very charismatic, certainly believes he’s intelligent and probably gets decent grades, but nonetheless the kind of stupid you see in men ages 15-25.

He’s likely chafing under his aging father’s strict guidance, knows he’s not going to be Lord Malfoy for years yet, wants to get out there, prove himself, and make a difference for his country. More importantly for Lucius, there’s this hip, exciting, new thing that all his cousins and friends are getting into called “The Death Eaters” (yes, I don’t believe the Knights of Walpurgis/Death Eaters 1.0 ever happened, I think it’s ridiculous that fandom and JKR does, I could go into why but not in this post). 

The Death Eaters are led by the single handedly most beautiful, charismatic, man in Britain. (Yes, I headcanon Tom’s still blindingly attractive at this stage, because it makes much more sense to me but we’re not getting into that here.) A mysterious man by the name of Voldemort, Salazar Slytherin’s long lost heir, who has come to resurrect the wizarding world’s true heritage and purge the land of the muggle stain. (Yes, I do believe that no one, not even Lucius who is later given the diary, knew who Tom really was. I believe Regulus’ had only the vaguest idea, informed mostly by Tom’s use of Kreacher to place the locket.) This is the most exciting thing to have ever happened, the rallies probably consist of rich kids drunk out of their minds and maybe even high on a little wizard cocaine, and Lucius is down for it precisely because his father says “Lucius, this is stupid, please don’t embarrass the family.” WELL LUCIUS IS GOING TO EMBARRASS THE FAMILY, DAD! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?!

And for a while, it looks like Lucius made the right choice. Things are happening, they’re actually going out and killing the mudbloods! Unlike Regulus, Lucius never has that “wait a minute” moment as he realizes that Voldemort’s actually far more efficiently eliminating pureblood families and sowing dissention in what was once a unanimous force among the Wizengamot (the other pureblood lords aren’t necessarily pro muggleborn, per se, but they get a bit queasy at the thought of blowing them up or Merlin forbid actually blowing up their own public venues wizards use). 

And then October 31st, 1981 happens, and it all comes crashing down. Lucius has to desperately lie his ass off, having only the flimsiest lie to rely on, has to hand out a shit ton of bribes, and manages to squeeze his way out of being imprisoned in Azkaban. 

I’m sure Abraxas looked at his son, with his tattoo on his arm that makes him another man’s slave, at the utter destruction of the Black family, and just shook his head going, “Clean up your mess, Dumbass Son”

And Lucius does to the best of his ability. While some will always suspect him of being a Death Eater, while some know it, he’s able to climb very high in influence in their ridiculously tiny community. Granted, I do think he messed up, and could never for example run for minister given everything (if Crouch can’t rerun then Lucius certainly can’t). He also shows us that in some ways he is not above the law, he’s very afraid his house will be searched without warrant in The Chamber of Secrets, and this is in part why he dumps Tom Riddle’s diary off onto Ginny.

However, he wields total control of the Prophet, has a seat on the Wizengamot, has the ear of the current Minister, is on the Hogwarts’ Board of Governors, and has his hands in pretty much every pie he can.

I imagine during this period Lucius grows up. He brushes the indiscretions of his youth under the carpet, gleefully leaving it all behind him, and the only real friend he maintains contact with from that period is Severus, the least zealot like of all of them. (Crabbe and Goyle Sr aren’t friends, they’re minions). 

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a racist slime bag, and I don’t think he really regrets the domestic terrorism. He just regrets nearly getting caught and putting his entire family’s security on the line. He witnessed first hand what happened to the Blacks.

And then the worst thing happens: Tom Riddle rises from the dead. He rises, impossibly, from the dead when Lucius has his own hand caught in the cookie jar.

Lucius has been living a life of luxury and influence while his great master, the man he had pledged everything to, was dead. Worse, Lucius took what was described as a treasured item to be protected at all costs, and not only threw it away but sent it to Hogwarts where it caused massive havoc and was ultimately destroyed. 

And Lucius, I imagine, no longer wants to serve a master.

But he has no choice. And so begins Lucius’ descent into misery and hell as he’s given an increasing set of impossible, horrific, tasks in punishment that involve him watching as his wife and son are put through hell.

I believe Tom holds a special place in his cold, black, passive aggressive heart for Lucius Malfoy.

First, Tom makes Lucius’ house his headquarters. Oh, Lucius, you have a very nice, very large, estate? Why don’t you host your beloved, mad, cousin, her equally mad husband and brother-in-law? Oh, Bellatrix threatened to cut off your ear? Well, she’s just so passionate! 

Second, Lucius is told to go get the prophecy. Well, this is easier said than done. He nearly succeeds but then it all turns into the world’s largest clusterfuck that ends in two notable things. First, the prophecy is lost forever, shattered. Second, the government admits that Voldemort is truly resurrected. Both of these things are very bad in Tom’s book. And the blame can easily be put on Lucius’ head.

In response to this, Draco is now given an impossible task that Draco is too stupid to realize is designed to cause him (and his family) as much misery as possible. Draco is to assassinate Dumbledore. 

Likely, Tom was already informed by Snape that Dumbledore was dying. The blackened hand was too obvious a tell coming from too obvious a source for the pair to have hid it. I think trying to hide such information would have immediately blown Snape’s cover. So, Tom knows the man is dying, and doesn’t see fit to tell Draco this.

Instead, he tells Draco, “Kill Dumbledore as soon as possible or I deliver you to Fenrir Grayback.” Draco, however, is young and stupid, so he honestly thinks he is doing this to restore the family honor, earn glory for himself and for the cause, and is expected to do this entirely by himself. As a result, when Narcissa begs Snape to aid Draco, Draco blows them both off and only accepts help from Bellatrix because HE CAN DO THIS ON HIS OWN! DRACO IS A MAN.

This, of course, doesn’t work out either. Draco doesn’t deliver the killing blow, Snape does, but Tom decides to give him a pass.

Instead he moves on to his next plan which is making the Malfoy manor his torture chamber and POW camp. Even Draco, at this point, realizes this all kind of sucks. 

And then Voldemort finally dies a second time, and I’m sure Lucius just stares numbly at his malformed corpse, wondering if it will really take this time.

So that’s Lucius for you, paying always for his mistakes, and pretending he’s just as much of a nutcase as Bellatrix to fit in.

Bellatrix LeStrange

God, compared to the novel that is Lucius’ ridiculous life, I really don’t have much to say about her because I feel like there’s not much too her.

Bellatrix reminds me a lot of the Manson family, she gives off those same vibes. Point being, I think even before Azkaban (while Azkaban certainly didn’t help), she was insane and a little too worshipful of Voldemort.

I guess I can start there, I don’t think Bellamort is a thing, at all. 

Tom may have, probably did, have sex with her before he died but afterwards? In that body? Forget about it.

That said, I’m sure Bellatrix both wanted to have sex and is convinced she did have sex to produce whatever the hell Delphi even is. It just wasn’t with Tom, and probably was Rodolphous with a Halloween mask on his face as they got a little too into role play.

And there we go, I suppose, I can’t take Bellatrix seriously. You often see her portrayed as sexy femme fatale Death Eater, the most competent of all of them, if a bit of a sadist.

Oh she might be a very good duelist but she’s... Bellatrix.

She prances around in corsets, shrieking madly, and just what part of that is supposed to be femme fatale? I literally cannot take her seriously on any level. When I even try to write her seriously, in very serious stories, I end up with lines like the following:

"My lord, if there's anything you need… Anything from me, specifically, as a woman…" 

- Bright Eyes

That was my best attempt. That was the best I could come up with. It’s still something that belongs in a comedy.

So, I don’t think Tom really corrupted her. I think without Voldemort she still probably would have been blowing up Diagon Alley, just in a much less organized manner.

Even in canon she does ridiculous things. For example, Bellatrix, frankly, could have easily avoided prison.

For weeks after the dark lord fell neither she, her husband, Barty, nor her brother-in-law were arrested. Bellatrix in grief and utter disbelief that the dark lord could ever do something so mortal as die, said “remember that other house our lord mentioned, THEY MIGHT HAVE INFORMATION, LET’S GO MURDER THE LONGBOTTOMS!” They torture and kidnap Frank, demanding he tell them where their master is, THEY KNOW HE KNOWS. He doesn’t know. They go too far and torture the man into being a vegetable. “Shit, GET THE WIFE!” They go get the wife, do the same thing, with the same results.

They now have no information on the dark lord, two well regarded aurors tortured into brain damage, and are quickly caught and brought before the court with absolutely no “I was imperiused” excuse they can give out. 

How am I supposed to take her in any way seriously?

I mean, to end your life killed in a duel with Molly Weasley. That just says it all.

[wavesmp3]

[hyunjae] the sea is yours to take

pairing: lee jaehyun x (female) reader genre: fantasy, royalty au, romance, slow burn warnings: mentions of death, some violence wc: 36k

synopsis: The Seven Sins and the Seven Gifts of the Spirit are warriors, exceptionally skilled in fighting, and they’re all dead. That is, all except you, The Gift of Fortitude. It’s an uneasy time in the kingdom with eastern Lords and northern bandits threatening a rebellion. You feel that it’s your duty to try and maintain peace within the kingdom. But when the King sends you away for an act of treason, you aren’t sure how much you can do so far from home. And it certainly doesn’t help that Jaehyun, the southern Lord of the estate you’ve been sent to, seems to hate your guts. 

a/n: and here i present another reposted fic because yolo. the original work version is here if you’re interested. this fic contains a very odd mix of tbz members and ocs so beware. also the line breaks indicate a new chapter (sort of). anyways enjoy but warning the beginning is very slow.  

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“Lady Gift,” the words rush out of the servant’s mouth, you hum allowing him to continue, “The King asks of your presence.”

“Very well then. Tell him I’m him coming,”

And as soon as the servant had entered the equipment room, he leaves as well. Out of fear. Out of urgency. Perhaps out of both. You had assumed it was only a matter of time until the King would call for you. Afterall, murdering one of his most trusted lords who’s also a member of his council is not a crime that goes undiscussed.

You look around the training room. The walls are adorned with swords, daggers and knives. Some of your own and some of belonging to the Golden Palace. You grab a dagger off the wall and push it in your boot. It couldn’t hurt to be prepared in the case anything was to happen.

You walk along the walls, dragging out the time before your presence with the King. Your eyes and feet stop when you come across a sword, one that was gifted to you by the youngest prince himself. You take it off the wall, testing the balance of the sword in your hand. The sword is beautiful, a gold blade that shines with the brightness of the Zalazar River. The hilt of the sword is a piece of art more than it’s a handle. You think that the hilt should be gawked at in a museum instead of collecting dust at the end of a sword. Two figures emerge from the black stone of the hilt. As if they were trapped inside the stone before the maker carved them out. As if they would have been lost in the fog of the black stone if the maker hadn’t given them air to breathe. You turn the hilt and study it carefully. Prince Orindell had requested the maker carve out one of the Seven Gifts of the Spirit and one of the Seven Sins. Specifically, Prince Orindell asked for you, the Gift of Fortitude. As for the Sin, the maker chose to bring the Sin of Greed to life. You aren’t exactly sure how he did considering there are no pictures or paintings of the Sins and Gifts apart from the sculptures in the southern temples. Even then, you’re sure most of the sanctuaries that housed the sculptures were destroyed long ago. Nonetheless, the Sin of Greed emerges from the other side of the stone, and in some way the Sin of Greed looks familiar to you despite having never known Greed. Prince Orindell had excitedly gifted this to you and explained in great detail the trouble he went through to get it done. At the time, Orindell had been much younger and things had been so much simpler. You wonder what Orindell would say to you now. The thought tastes bitter in your mind.

“Did you hear that the King is waiting for you?” The familiar tones of his voice crash over you like a wave. The corners of your mouth lift.

You put the sword back carefully. “Yes, it has come to my attention,” you say as if it’s an afterthought, in a sense it is.

“Well,” he chuckles, “I guess the King will have to wait his turn.”

You rush to Juyeon and embrace him in a long hug. You can feel the longing in his arms. It warms your heart.

“I’ve missed you dearly, Juyeon.”

He grins. “I as well.”

“So much has changed since you’ve been gone.” You tell him seriously, reminded of the King you’ve kept waiting.

“I’ve heard.”

“About everything?”

“Yes, everything,” he says into your hair. The next part he whispers. “So, tell me, what warrants you murdering Lord Seth.”

Instead of answering, you pull away. “I’m afraid I must go. The King has asked for my presence.”

Juyeon’s eyes flash with a certain color of betrayal that prods at the tender parts of your heart. It pains you to see the tired bags under his eyes and the droop of his lips. You assume your face mirrors something close to his.

“Like I said, a lot has changed here Juyeon.”

“It’s actually…” he pauses, a small smile appearing on his face, “it’s actually Captain Juyeon now.”

“Oh.” You say simply. “Well congratulations Captain Juyeon. The Knights of the Holy Order are lucky to have someone as gifted as you.”

“Thank you. I learned from the best.” He smiles boyishly.

“That you did.”

You’re reminded of the lifetime before his enrollment in the army, the Knights of the Holy Order. The memory makes you sad. Despite the bleached shade to his brown hair and the dimness in his usually light eyes, it hadn’t occurred to you that perhaps a lot had changed for him too.

You’re both quiet for a moment. Until he asks, “Now about Orindell-”

You shut the door in his face.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun rolls out the knots in his neck and tries to stretch out the ones forming in his back. The two day journey north to the King’s City was taking longer than expected. Unlike his father, Jaehyun was not one for traveling. To Jaehyun nothing seemed particularly glamorous about the reality of riding on horseback for days and nights on end. Jaehyun was much too content with staying by the sea at the estate which Jaehyun called home. There, at his estate, the town was self-governed and quiet. There Jaehyun felt peace. Here, on his horse's saddle finally reaching a clearing in the woods, Jaehyun feels most notably irritable (although boredom and tire are a close second). Here, faced with the reality of traveling, Jaehyun understands even less why his father and Captain Younghoon put up with it. 

“We are approaching the Zalazar River," the first guard calls from the front of the party. 

"Lord Jaehyun," Younghoon says riding up from the rear, "I think you'll like this." 

And of course, Younghoon is right. Jaehyun has heard the tales about the Zalazar River. Tales of a river so deep that submarines could easily ride along the current without ever being detected. Tales of a river whose color is so magnificent it changes with the seasons. Tales of a river which seems to take flight and disappear into the eastern mountains. And although Jaehyun has yet to see the latter tale, Younghoon is right; Jaehyun loves the abyss that is the Zalazar River. 

"It's beautiful," is the only thing Jaehyun can think to say at the sight of the deep purple river. 

"Yes," Younghoon hums, "it's wonderful isn't it. I myself am partial to the yellows and dark reds of late fall. But you'll come to see how blissful the King's City looks even during this season." 

"Ah, the Golden Palace," Jaehyun mutters, gripping the reins of his horse tightly, "I'm sure spring does the city well." 

"It does." Younghoon says simply looking out towards the river as the horses step onto the Bronze Bridge. Younghoon must sense Jaehyun's discomfort because the next part he says with hesitation. "Lord Jaehyun, I think this trip will be good for you. It's time you come to see the King's City and the Golden Palace as more than just the place your father died. It's time you stop resenting it."  

And with that, the rest of the Zalazar River is crossed in silence. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You approach the doors to the throne room alone and with heavy footsteps. You stop in front of the door, a feeing resembling fear crawling up your spine and wrapping around your neck. You shake the feeling away and remind yourself that you are the Gift of Fortitude with abilities and powers unmatched by even the best among the Knights of the Holy Order. The King and his council were only one of many regimes you have seen, that you have lived through. Without you, the King was nothing. You have nothing to fret. Yet still, something about the air in the corridor and the dagger in your boot makes you nervous. Something about the life of a Lord who was only following orders from the King makes you shiver. 

Regardless, you nod at the guard of the throne room, and he opens the door, announcing your presence to the room anyways. As you enter the room, you think the King has outdone himself this time. Archers line the perimeter of the room, tucked away in the balconies and presumably safe from you. The throne room usually hosts a party of six guards, but today, you count twenty swordsmen lined along the carpet, and skilled ones at that. You swallow a laugh at the dagger clinking against your ankles. Perhaps you should’ve slipped a knife under your skirt as well. But either way, you’re confident in your skills. If this broke out into a fight, you against the guards and archers, you would prevail. But to spare the boys and girls who stand around you, shaking in their armor, you would do everything in your power to avoid that.

“Gift,” the King calls to you from across the throne room, “do you know why you’re here?” The King has a smile as he asks it, knowing that for the first time in his rule, he has the upper hand over you. Hell, this is the first time since the rule of King Avi that any King has had power over you.

You nod, observing the assembly the King has gathered for your presence, apart from the soldiers. On the first platform at the end of the throne room, six seats are laid out for the six men and women of the King’s council. Two of the council seats remain empty while the other four house council members sitting still fear. Fear directed towards you. You assume that if they weren’t so scared of you and your ability, they would slouch in their seats with indifference. You’ve never taken a liking to the King’s council anyways. On the next raised platform behind the council seats, are the thrones of the King and his Princes. Prince Peter’s throne, to the left of the King’s, is empty. The sight makes you worry. As the inner court likes to say, the eldest son had ‘left’ the Golden Palace and the King’s City at the end of winter. You have yet to hear any word from Peter and can only pray to the Gods that his plans are going well. Prince Roen, the second prince, sits on the right of his father. The prince had only just returned from his campaign in the east that previous night, but despite the tire evident in Roen’s face, he smiles sympathetically at you. Next to Roen is Prince Orindell who avoids your eyes so easily, in a way only the youngest prince is capable of. His lips are all but a tight line on his face, and he grips the arm of his throne hard, his knuckles turning white. And just for the slightest of moments, Orindell meets your eyes, but as quickly as they're brought up to you face, he rips his gaze away. Despite that, you still manage to catch the dark shade of hurt and heartbreak that swims within his eyes. And it manages to replace all of your previous nerves with a familiar shade of hurt and a different one of guilt. Guilt for hurting Orindell the way you did, the way you had to. You push away the thoughts and memories and refocus on the problem at hand.

The King, differently from the others in the room, sits up straight and attentive. His smile taunts you like a dog, holding your freedom above your nose as you jump through hoops for him. You hate the man that sits before you. His throne is flashier, his rings are bigger, and his profits are lower. He is reckless and foolish. He doesn't understand the teetering balance of his own kingdom, of his entire world. He seeks out matters he doesn't understand and toys with those that should not be disturbed. And above all, the man seated before you should have never inherited the crown.

"Yes Lord King," you say, finally answering his question. "I know why you have asked for me today. Although, you need not ask such useless questions." You pause for a moment, your next words simmering on the tip of your tongue. "I miss your father for that reason, he wasn't so persistently foolish." 

The King scowls, and the council members roll their eyes while both of the present princes hide snickers. 

"You should be more mindful of the treason that leaves your mouth, Gift." The King tells you, his confidence dented but his smile as evil as ever. "The blood of one of my most trusted Lords stains your hands, and if you continue such pathetic, pointless defiance, your blood will stain the floors of this room."

You hum. "Perhaps, but you underestimate me, Lord King, greatly. And if you think you know the extent of my skill, then let me say that for the entirety of your small life, you have never seen me fight with the intention to kill. If the men and women you have assembled for me attack, you will be sitting over their dead bodies."

“And then what? You’ll have taken the lives of even more innocent people.” And at this you falter. At this, you’re forced to give the King credit because he knows where to land his blows. He knows how to keep your freedom so close you can smell it, but still far enough so that you can’t have it. But you gulp down your guilt and continue regardless.

"I have killed more men in my life then you know in yours. I will live just as I do now." And despite the conviction with which you say it, you know the King is not fooled by your empty words. You meet Roen's eyes, and he nods. You take it as a vote of confidence. "Either way Lord King, I pay you no debt. I owe you nothing. My own disdain for traveling is the only thing keeping me at your court." 

"Yes, that may be the case," the King chuckles rubbing his ring clad knuckles against his chin, "so then leave, Gift. Leave this court and never return." 

The breath is knocked out of your lungs. This, you did not expect. 

"Father, you can't-" Orindell blurts, standing up from his throne staring sadly at you. He shakes his head, attempting to cover his own selfish intent with reason. "Father, we need the Gift of Fortitude. Your hold on this kingdom is weak without her power. If you lose Fortitude, you risk losing the kingdom." 

“Eh,” one of the female council members speaks up, looking less afraid of you now, “let the Gift of Fortitude go. A monster like her has no business in a King’s court.”

The words strike you across the cheek, specifically the word ‘monster’. 

“You!” Orindell shouts at the council member, rage contorting his face. “How dare—"

Roen cuts Orindell off, before he can rampage further. "Father, Orindell is right. I've met with the Lords in the far east. The failure of the west harvest this season has made them restless. If it weren't for Fortitude, a rebellion from the east would be an even more pressing issue than it already is." Roen's eyes are in a panic, the previous tire eradicated from his face. "Think rationally father."

"I am thinking rationally!" The King booms, sending your gut straight to your throat and the princes back to their thrones. The council members sit motionless once again. Perhaps out of fear of the King this time as well. "But if the Gift of Fortitude does not wish to be banished from this court, then so be it." You exhale. "However, I will not have you and your treason-filled mouth infiltrating my court." The King spares a seething glare at Peter's empty throne. "You will still be a member of this court, but you will not stay at the Golden Palace until I permit your return. Lord Jaehyun and Captain Younghoon from the southern lands are on their way to the Golden Palace as we speak. They are to arrive later today."  The name Jaehyun sounds familiar, but you can't quite recall where you’ve heard it before. "You will live out your sentence there, at his estate." And then it hits you. You had heard of Lord Jaehyun’s name before. Jaehyun’s father was a regular visitor to the Golden Palace before he fell sick and died in the palace infirmaries several years ago. 

 “But—” Orindell begins before his father cuts him off.

"And if you refuse, then I will personally see to the completion of the act you murdered Lord Seth to prevent."

You know now, with the King’s final threat, that you must hold out on your freedom. Even if the King’s threat is a bluff, the risk of it alone takes priority. With one last deep exhale, you conform.

You spare the princes’ thrones one last glance before reaching into your boot and dropping the dagger you had tucked inside. The dagger hits the stone floor with an obnoxious clatter. The sound of your acceptance echoes throughout the walls hauntingly. You exit the throne room and head straight to your personal quarters without another word.

***

You weep for hours and hours. You weep for this kingdom. You weep for Orindell, for Juyeon, for Roen, for Peter. You weep for the King and his foolishness. You weep for the power of the Gifts that had been bestowed upon you all those years ago, and for the sheer fact that you are a Gift despite never asking for it. But most of all, you weep for the freedom you can’t have as long as the current king lives.

You weep until you’re sure you can’t have any tears left to shed. You weep until you feel dead.

 That night, you have dinner in your dining room with Prince Roen. He tells you about his recent campaigns, his successes and losses. He spends a little too long telling you about the daughter of one of the better eastern lords. He smiles as he mentions her, playing absentmindedly with his food. 

"I was starting to wonder why you were taking so many trips to the east." You say with a playful smile that feels foreign on your lips. "Do you intend to marry her Roen?" 

 A blush creeps onto his cheeks as his eyes meet yours in shock. "No, no," he shakes his head vigorously, "it isn't like that." But then as he pokes a carrot with his fork, Roen's lips turn down in a frown. "I can't imagine someone who distrusts the monarchy so much even considering a prince anyways."

You hum, recognizing the lingering in his movements and the longing in his voice as something particular to youth, something hidden in your own memories, and something you beg to forget. You swallow your thoughts down and focus on comforting the boy in front of you.

"I'm sure that's not something a few more trips to the east can't change, Roen. Afterall, you are known for your persuasive nature." He snorts. "It also helps that no one distrusts the monarchy more than the members of it. Perhaps if the lady were to know of your true intentions, then you wouldn't think it so bizarre to ask for her hand. I'm afraid you underestimate how many women would love to be a princess, even to a palace like this." 

He smiles again, “Thank you."  He pushes the carrot into his mouth.

Dinner continues in a comfortable silence, the only ambiance being the crackling of torches along the wall and the fire in the hearth. Roen pauses for a second swallowing his food carefully. Then he looks over at you tentatively before opening his mouth to speak. You cut him off before he gets the chance.

"Roen please, I don't need your pity." 

He chuckles and murmurs something you don't exactly catch. "I was just going to say that I've been to Lord Jaehyun's holding. You'll come to see just how beautiful and picturesque the south is, and I think you'll take a liking to Captain Younghoon." You vaguely knew of Captain Younghoon. He was the youngest ever Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order, second only to the Commander, but retired at a young age. Lord Jaehyun on the other hand was a complete mystery to you. You knew nothing of him only that he was from the south and that he was his father’s son. 

"Have you ever seen the sea?" Roen asks. You shake your head. "Well if you're standing by the shore, the water of the sea continues on into the horizon for what seems like forever. The water stretches so far out and in all directions. From the shore, it appears like if you travelled far out enough, you'd fall off the edge of the world-"

"I've seen paintings." You snipe.

"Yes, but it doesn't compare to the real thing. The sea," he trails off, a dazed off look in his eyes, "is something else entirely." 

You can’t help but smile at the bliss Roen radiates at the mere thought of the sea. “I guess I’ll be seeing for myself soon enough.” You think the world could use a few more like Roen. Even in the darkest of moments, he remains a ray of light. “You remind me so much of your grandfather, Roen.”

His eyebrows rise, and then a saddened look crosses his eyes. "He's always talked to highly of, even by the eastern Lords. But what was he like?" 

You hesitate, thinking back to the times before you had returned to the Golden Palace. "Perhaps not as clever as your father. But kind and empathetic. He possessed a certain understanding of this kingdom although at times, he could be impulsive. At the end of the day, your grandfather was a good king, and you've managed to inherit all his best traits." 

"Were you close to him?" 

"No, not while he was king. At that time, I wasn't closely involved with the King's court. I only returned because of your mother." There's another silence. You spend it immersed in your memories.

Finally, Roen speaks. “Do me a favor and enjoy the sea.”

He stands up and presses a kiss to your forehead in goodbye. Then he leaves the dining rooms, sending in a servant to clean up your dinner. 

***

There’s a knock on your bedroom doors later that night. You’re sitting in front of the fire with your knees pulled up against your chest when it happens.

“Who is it?” You ask tiredly.

"It's me." You recognize his voice immediately. And if it weren't for the hours you spent weeping this morning, you probably would've cried at the sound of his voice alone. You didn’t expect Orindell to come and bid you farewell, but somehow the fact that he does makes it all the more real. 

You push yourself off the rug and move towards the door. Your hand hovers over the doorknob, but after another thought, you drop your hand, deciding to make due with conversation through the door.

“Yes, Orindell,” you call through the door, “what is it?”

You listen as he stumbles over his words for a second before falling silent. When his voice resurfaces, it’s small and scattered. “Do you hate me so much as to not open the door?”

You sigh. In a loud and exaggerated way so that you know he hears it. Orindell means well. Deep down, you know so much. But his words are a paint brush coloring a lousy shade of blame all over you; as if any of the issues that have come between you two is your fault. You suppose if you tried confronting him again, he would try to tell you that it is. “Prince Orindell, have at least enough dignity to recognize that I’m doing this for you.”

He exhales harshly in acceptance. You settle for it. There’s more silence, and after a few minutes, you begin to think that he’s left. But when he speaks up again, he proves you wrong. “Roen was saying how he reminds you of our grandfather.”

You inhale sharply. Conversing with Orindell had come to this point. To the point where you both had to speak lightly and with low voices as to not anger each  other. To the point where you both had to tiptoe around topics as to not bring up something the other did not wish to speak of. To the point where you couldn't even talk about what mattered. 

“Indeed, he does.” 

“Then…” Orindell hesitates. You hear a small tap on the door, “do I remind you of anyone?”

You smile. His question reminded you of a time before his confession, of a time when conversation with Orindell was simple and delightful, of a time when Orindell was a child. You let the question sit in the air for a second despite knowing exactly who Orindell reminds you of. You think of it every time he smiles or laughs or does anything at all, for all his mannerisms and all his traits remind you exactly of her. He reminds you of her in an obvious almost flashy way, in a way you couldn’t possibly ignore. In a way that’s not as subtle as Roen. In a way, that makes Orindell so dear to you. “You remind me of your mother, Orindell.” Your voice softens. “You are so very much like your mother.” 

He hums, satisfied with your response despite already knowing it. “Do you miss her?”

“Everyday.” 

“I wish I knew her.”

There is no pain in his voice as he says it, and yet you feel so much pain when he does. “She would’ve loved you.” Then you pause before saying the next part with a laugh dancing under your voice.  “In fact—well don’t tell the other two—but she probably would’ve loved you the most.” 

Orindell laughs. You relish in the sound. Then after a moment, he asks: “How about Peter then? Who does he remind you of?”

You falter, not quite able to put your finger on who Peter reminds you of. If not someone, then there is something the eldest prince reminds you of. Something like a memory, but there’s a fog in your mind that halts you from knowing any more. And right now, with Peter long gone, the memory seems so faint; you aren’t even sure it’s real.

“I’m not sure,” is all you can say. Orindell hums as if he wasn’t really waiting for your answer anyways. You are quick to push down the annoyance that bubbles from it.

“Do you wish to leave?” He asks, in a voice that makes you believe he was scared to do so.

“Of course not.” You deny, perhaps a little more harshly than necessary. You try not to think too much about your upcoming departure from the Golden Palace. You fail.

Orindell waits a long moment. But when he speaks again, the words come falling out of his mouth. “We could get married. And then you won’t have to leave. It’ll fix everything, and father won’t be able to send you away.” 

“Orindell,” you hiss, but you want to rage. And in this moment, you hate how much he reminds you of his mother. Because just like her, his love makes him stupid. His love clouds his judgement. And in this moment, you want to yell at him and scream because you do not need someone you care for as much as you do Orindell telling you the same foolish things the people you think so lowly of do. You do not need Orindell persisting that a marriage will fix everything. You do not need Orindell, even less do you need his romantic interest in you. But you want Orindell, as a friend. And you have no wish to leave the Golden Palace in yet another argument with him. So, for that reason, and that one alone, you swallow your rage, and it burns all the way down your throat.

“Leave Orindell.”

“Not until-”

“Just go,” you seethe, the anger seeping from between your teeth. You don't wait for a response, storming to the other side of the room, near the fire. You stand by it for a second, the heat only adding to the flame burning inside you. And when you’ve had enough, your anger bursting from its seams, you kick the neat stack of firewood beside you. All seven logs go flying, one of them dents the wall. You focus on your breathing.

There’s another knock at the door. “Orindell, I said go!” You yell whipping the door open to come face to face with a wide-eyed Juyeon. “Oh, Juyeon,” you say in shock. 

“Bad time?” He asks with raised shoulders and the faintest hint of a smile. 

You huff, ignoring the urge to hit him over the head. “Just come in.”

“Roen told me about your sentence.” He begins, sitting down in an armchair while you go back to kneeling by the fire. 

“Roen sure is talking plenty tonight.” You mutter into the orange glow.

“Roen always talks plenty,” Juyeon hums, amused but calm.

Juyeon, in himself, is an epitome to his upbringing. He was only a young boy and a palace servant when you took him in and taught him how to fight. To your surprise, Juyeon turned out to be an excellent fighter. Before you had relieved the orphan boy of his petty debts to the King, Juyeon was constantly riled up. Always looking for a fight but losing once he did. He was angry at the world, and for good reason, but looking at him now, Juyeon contains none of the anger that consumed him as a boy. You suppose you can thank him joining the Knights of the Holy Order for that. You knew firsthand how fighting in the way that the Knights do, even when there is no war, changes a person. Afterall, fighting in the Holy Wars despite your age and disinterest in conflict, had changed you in such a way that when you visited your father afterwards, he didn’t even recognize you. But you think Juyeon, unlike what your father thought of you, has changed for the better. He had come back on his breaks more mature and grown. He had become a friend to you despite the manner in which your relationship had begun. Juyeon was the first true friend you had since the princes' late mother. 

And after a while of you glaring at the fire and Juyeon crossing and uncrossing his legs, he finally speaks up again. "Don't blame yourself for Orindell's inability to control himself and his emotions." 

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you to be speaking ill of your friend and more importantly the prince." You bite back, stubbornly refusing his comfort. 

He scoffs. "Don't be so dense. You're my friend too." 

There's a silence and you reach your hand out to hover over the fire. "Did you know?"

"About Orindell and you?" 

You nod although there is no 'Orindell and you'. There is only Orindell's foolishness and your reason. 

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his chin in his palm. "Yes," he says with such simplicity it irks you. "In my defense, I thought you knew." 

"You'd think after all these years of living, I would be more in tune with these things, but no," you say rather lamely, "I'm still just as clueless as I was." 

"It appears even time can't change that." Juyeon jokes. You laugh for the first time that day, and it feels like you can finally breathe again. 

"Have you heard any word from Peter?" The question seems to bring you both back to reality. And the question, or perhaps reality, drags Juyeon's lips down and draws his gaze towards the flames. 

He scratches a spot behind his head. "Not a word.”

“I’ve been sending him Risals.” 

“And…?” Juyeon asks, hopeful.

“They come back empty. He doesn’t send me anything back.” 

Juyeon sighs, and you can’t decide if it sounds more tired or sad. “But if he's following his plan then he should be at the Nomads' Land by now." 

"That's only if he was able to find the Nomads' Land.”  You rub your temple thinking and overthinking all the aspects of Peter's plan. On a hunch and a forgotten memory, you had advised Peter to head north to the Giant Forest. Specifically, you had advised Peter to find the Nomads’ Land within the Giant Forest. The Nomads have always been very private people but even more so after the rule of King Avi, who ruled over the kingdom during the Holy Wars. No one has even seen a Nomad since let alone their Lands. There are no maps, no stories, nothing. On top of that, the Nomads’ have never been known for their kindness to strangers. "I feel as if I've let him go on an impossible quest."

Juyeon shakes his head, a crease running through his forehead. “Peter decided to go himself. He sketched up the plans himself. If he thought he could do it, there must be something he knows that we don’t.”

You nod even though Juyeon sounds as if he’s convincing himself of it as much as he’s convincing you. But you know, there is some truth to Juyeon's words. Peter is more than competent to do what he set out to do. As he grew, the eldest prince always found new ways to surprise you with his skill. After the Holy Wars and the deaths of all the Sins and Gifts apart from yourself, your fighting skill went unmatched. That was until Peter. Peter trained under you by the request of his mother and to the disdain of his father, and as Peter grew, so did his skill. By the time Peter had aged into a man, he became a better opponent than you had seen in ages. His brute strength making up for what he lacked in skill. But there’s something else about Peter as well, perhaps the same quality that puts a fog in your mind and reminds you of a memory you can’t remember. That part of him makes you wonder if there is something else that eases your worries. Whatever quality of Peter that perplexes you, is the same one that proves Peter is capable of completing his task to overthrow the King, to overthrow his father. You can only hope your advice to ask the Nomads gets him far enough to do it.

"You're right," you admit, "Peter is capable. I'm just worried. It all..." you hesitate struggling to find the right words, "It all makes my head ache." 

Juyeon sits back in the armchair, his brows furrowed and appearing to be deep in thought. He opens his mouth suddenly as if to speak, yet nothing comes out. He seems to be overcome with the same loss of words as you.

“I hate to ask this—”

“Then don’t.” 

“—but why did you send Peter to the Nomads’ Land?”

You still. The same fog from before overcoming your mind once again. “I can’t even begin to explain, Juyeon, I—”

“Try,” you meet his eyes, they look darker in this light or perhaps it’s his own confusion and hopeless need to understand that makes his eyes turn to the color of bark after a thunderstorm, “please.”

You do.

“I’ve told you before, Juyeon. I  struggle to remember life before the Holy Wars.” You pause, taking a moment to collect and retrieve your thoughts from the thick fog consuming your mind. You come back empty handed.

“It’s almost as if life never existed before the Holy Wars.” You say slowly. “I’ve forgotten the way life was before that. The way life was before I was the Gift of Fortitude. But sometimes, just barely, I get a sense of a memory. As if whatever made me forget is wearing off. As if it’s weakening.” You take another break, dropping your head in your hands. You can feel a headache coming. “These memories, they come and go, lasting only for the moment they appear. But when I was speaking with Peter that night, something about him or something about our conversation brought this memory to me. And I…” You trail off, struggling to remember the conversation you had with Peter before he took off.

Juyeon stands up from the armchair and joins you on the floor. His movements are frantic, but the message they send is clear: they scream desperation. “I know it’s difficult to remember, but please try as best you can. We were so close last time.”

This makes you stop. You release your head from your hands and look back at Juyeon quizzingly. “Last time?” You repeat in disbelief.

He grabs your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “Focus. You talk of a memory. A memory to do with the Nomads and your life before the Holy Wars. What did you remember that day with Peter? Why did you send him to the Nomads’ Lands?”

You don’t even hear him, your head suddenly splitting with pain. “When did we speak about this before?” You ask, helplessly wondering how you possibly could have forgotten an entire conversation.

“The memory,” Juyeon emphasizes once more, “what was the memory?”

“Juyeon, please,” you beg, feeling a tear you hadn’t even noticed roll down your chin, “let it go. I don’t remember.”

His entire body seems to sigh in defeat. “I’m sorry,” he mutters before letting go of your face. Your mind turns white with fog the moment he lets go. You  immediately drop your head into your hands again. The pain in your head so intense you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out. Eventually, you taste blood.

“I’m sorry.” Juyeon mumbles into your hair. You hadn’t even realized he was embracing you. “I wish it didn’t have to hurt so much to remember.”

You try to tell him it’s like a curse but the words get swallowed by another surge of pain.

He helps you into your bed, and it makes you feel as old as you are. He whispers another apology before leaving your room. 

And like a spell, the fog in your mind devours your entire body in a deep sleep.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

"In the name of the Gods, we offer this prayer. Bestow upon us the knowledge of the Elders to live in harmony with our neighbors. By bathing in your everlasting light and glory, may we go in peace.” Jaehyun prays although his mind is far from the memorized passages that leaves from his lips. The palace temple is modern and beautiful, but different compared to the traditional southern temples he’s used to. But even that, Jaehyun can’t focus on. No, instead, Jaehyun troubles himself with the events of this morning. He awoke exhausted and aching after a long day of riding. But despite his tire, he was to meet the Gift of Fortitude this morning with breakfast in your personal dining room. It was awkward to say the least, with Jaehyun and Younghoon unsure and timid and you holding your head in your hands, complaining of a headache to a servant in hushed tones. Yet, Jaehyun sits in the palace temple thinking and overthinking how you, the Gift of Fortitude, looked so undeniably human. 

Jaehyun sneaks a glance. You’re seated next to him, but you look as if you’re somewhere else altogether. Your eyes are sewn shut and your lips are held tightly in a line. He wouldn’t have thought you to be so religious. Hell, Jaehyun wouldn’t have thought anyone north of the Zalazar River to be religious, but with the way you sit, concentrated on the prayers, religious is the only thing Jaehyun can think of to describe you. 

The King had sent a message to Jaehyun’s southern estate at the beginning of the week asking for Jaehyun’s and Captain Younghoon’s presence at the Golden Palace immediately. The King didn’t bother including any details. Jaehyun and Younghoon were left to speculate what business he could possibly have with them. With Jaehyun, a southern Lord who never involved himself with the politics of the kingdom, and with Younghoon, a retired Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order. It certainly doesn’t help that Lord Jaehyun is known to harbor a dislike towards the King. 

But now, as Jaehyun and Younghoon walk the ornate halls of the undeniably breathtaking Golden Palace alongside the Gift of Fortitude, Jaehyun wonders even more why the King has asked for them.

“Lord King I present to you Lady Gift of Fortitude, Lord Jaehyun, and Captain Younghoon." The guard announces to the King's throne room as the three of you enter. The throne room, Jaehyun notices, is just as lavish as the rest of the palace, if not more. Five of the six counsel seats are filled. Prince Roen and Prince Orindell sit attentively at their thrones, but Prince Peter's throne is empty. Jaehyun finds the sight odd, especially since the heir to the throne is known to be closely involved with the King's affairs and even more because Prince Peter is a close friend of you, as are all the Princes. 

Despite that, the King wastes no time. He says that you wish to visit the southern lands, and offers Jaehyun's estate as a place for you to stay. Jaehyun assumes there is more to the request than the King lets on but accepts nonetheless, and the three of you are ushered out of the throne room almost as soon as you’re brought in. 

Jaehyun, Younghoon, and you walk the halls aimlessly after the dreaded presence with the King which admittedly was briefer and more passive than Jaehyun had imagined. 

“I apologize for the circumstances, Lord Jaehyun and Captain Younghoon. I’m afraid I had little choice in the matter. I just wished the King hadn’t handled matters so hurriedly.” You tell them. 

“It’s quite alright, Lady Gift,” Younghoon affirms, glancing at Jaehyun as if expecting him to say something, but Jaehyun stays silent. “I find it a shame although,” Younghoon says to cover Jaehyun’s silence, “that there were so many missing in the King’s close court this morning.” 

“Yes.” You respond simply. 

“If I may, where is Prince Peter? I’ve heard you’re close to all three Princes.”

“You heard correctly, Captain Younghoon.” Then you pause. Jaehyun closely observes the way you carefully choose your next words. “Prince Peter had some personal matters to take care of. He’s taken a sabbatical of sorts.” 

"Odd that there was no royal notice of his sabbatical," Younghoon says in an even but skeptical tone. 

"Yes, Prince Peter is nearly as impulsive as his father," you cringe slightly when you say it, as if the words hurt.

And it's evident in the way you deflect the question, that there's something more to Prince Peter's absence. Something the King's court has chosen to cover up and ignore. Jaehyun knew just how impulsive the King could be, and for that reason, Jaehyun suspects that Prince Peter has snuck out of the palace, but then with another look at your scornful face, Jaehyun suspects something different. Prince Peter must have been sent away by his father himself. The realization takes a moment to sink in. 

Younghoon clears his throat. “And then what about Lord Seth, the sixth member of the King’s court?”

You stop walking altogether, looking down at your feet with furrowed brows. You look as if you’ve forgotten something. Jaehyun and Younghoon stop walking as well.

“You haven’t heard?” You question so quietly that Jaehyun barely hears it.

Younghoon tilts his head, “Heard what?”

You bite your lip, and look off to the side. You open your mouth once, but then close it again after. Jaehyun thinks, as mad as it sounds, that you, a Gift of the Spirit, look a little nervous.

Jaehyun takes a step forward. “What is it Lady Gift?” He asks, breaking his silence.

You shake your head once and then look up at Lord Jaehyun and Captain Younghoon with steady eyes. “Lord Seth was murdered.” You state with an eerie simplicity. You hesitate before adding the next part. “And I was the one who killed him.”

Jaehyun was wrong. It was not nerves that made you hesitate. It was guilt.  

“Well then, I just need to take care of a few more things before we leave. I’ll meet you both at the stables.”

And you’re off before Jaehyun and Younghoon can even comprehend what you just said.

 ***

Jaehyun waits for you and Younghoon in the stables. He tends to his horse deep in thought. 

Jaehyun hadn't been sure of the nature of your prospective visit to his estate. But now with your murder confession, it's clear you are being sent away as a punishment. You’re more akin to the stories and rumors than Jaehyun had wanted to believe. A monster lurking on the palace grounds as one of the Seven Gifts of the Spirit under the pretense that you mysteriously switched sides and fought with the Seven Sins during the Holy Wars. A monster lurking within a human body with an uncontrollable power that should be stopped, contained. 

Jaehyun doesn’t agree with all of it, but he’s not above some of the notions either. Before the Holy Wars, the Seven Gifts of the Spirit were praised as highly as the Seven Sins. The two groups worked in harmony as protectors of humanity. However, for reasons unknown to the people, the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts of the Spirit began fighting which escalated into the Holy Wars. The kingdom took the side of the Sins making the Gifts an enemy to the nation. After the war, the Gifts were not praised as highly as they once were. In fact, the Seven Gifts of the Spirit were not praised at all. All seven Sins and six of the Gifts perished in the Holy Wars. You, the only one who had survived, shouldered the blame of the Holy Wars. You, the Gift of Fortitude, became a pariah.

Although Jaehyun hates himself for doing so, he can’t help but think that perhaps you do have too much power. Power that is unmatched without another living Sin or Gift. Power that goes unchecked. If the Gift of Fortitude set out to kill, Jaehyun doubts there is much that could stop you. Lord Seth’s murder had gone unannounced and relatively unpunished. Jaehyun wonders if Lord Seth was an isolated example or just another among the many whose lives were put in your hands. 

But then when Jaehyun thinks back to the figure praying diligently beside him in the temple just hours ago and the person who complained of something as mundane as a headache this morning, it doesn’t appear to make much sense. If Jaehyun had not known you to be the Gift of Fortitude, he would’ve never fathomed that you’d even hurt a fly.  

“That’s a very beautiful horse you have there, Lord Jaehyun,” you say suddenly, bringing to Jaehyun’s attention your presence in the stables. 

 Jaehyun nods with a polite yet strained smile. “Yes, he was gifted to me by my father.” 

“Ah,” you mutter. And for a second, Jaehyun thinks he sees your face turn to a frown. But before he can look any further, you continue. “Mines is a river horse.” You brush through the mane of the horse in the stall next to Jaehyun’s. “I found him a while back by the Zalazar River.” 

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything in response. He begins attaching his saddles and bags to his horse instead. He watches the affection with which you care for your horse. He wonders how you’re able to act so calmly after admitting to murder not too long ago. Jaehyun thinks your dismissal and nonchalance negates any trust he might’ve held for you.  

He clears his throat. He makes sure it’s loud and obtrusive. He makes sure the I don’t trust you is clear. 

“Lord Jaehyun,” you begin, not even bothering to take your eyes off your horse, “I understand you may be upsetted by and skeptical of my actions, but I kindly ask that you respect them nonetheless. I hope you come to see that I had my reasons. Good reasons. Ones that I am unable to share with you.” You pause for a second as a servant brings in a bird Jaehyun doesn’t recognize and sets it by your feet. You continue as soon as the servant disappears behind the stable doors. “I am no stranger to fear and hate directed towards me. But seeing as I am to be staying at your estate for the foreseeable future, I ask that you wait and get to know me before you make any rash assumptions concerning me.” You take a step past Jaehyun so that you stand beside him facing the opposite stable door. You turn your head, and Jaehyun shivers at the way your breath hits his neck. You speak directly into his ear, voice no louder than a whisper. “It’s best you realize sooner rather than later that we have the same enemy here.” 

Jaehyun understands what you are implicating, the notion alone bringing a sudden heat to his cheeks. He doesn’t dare to meet your eyes. But you stare at Jaehyun until he makes some acknowledgment of your speech. You’re gone the moment he does, leaving a cloud of dust and dirt in the space you used to occupy. 

Jaehyun is left stunned. He can’t even acknowledge the palace servant that re enters the stable to finish preparing your horse. He’s only brought out of mind when a familiar heavy hand rests upon his shoulder. 

“We’re ready when you are Jaehyun,” Younghoon says, a laugh dancing under his words. 

Jaehyun groans. “How much of that did you hear?” 

Younghoon releases Jaehyun’s shoulder. “Enough,” he hums with an enthusiastic nod. 

“So you think it’s excusable then?” Jaehyun questions, hurt that Younghoon seems to be taking your side over his. “Are you willing to excuse murder too?” 

Younghoon’s quiet for a moment, but when he does speak again, he does so seriously. Jaehyun listens intently. “It’s not that I’m excusing murder Jaehyun. It’s that I’m willing to believe there is more to this story than we are hearing. I’m willing to trust the Gift of Fortitude over the King.” 

Jaehyun shakes his head. “I just can’t understand how everyone is looking past the life that has been lost. How can you accept a crime as grave as murder?”

Younghoon chuckles darkly. “I spent the better part of my life making murderers out of men and women. I made a murderer out of myself as Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order. I stay sane because I believe that I led knights to their deaths for good reason. If I did not accept the murders I’ve committed, I would have gone mad a long time ago. Sometimes Jaehyun, a crime is only as grave as its motivation.”

Jaehyun is silent, taking his time to understand what Younghoon means. He returns his attention to his horse. 

“What have you been doing all morning?” Jaehyun asks, deciding he needs more time to process than the moment allows. Younghoon isn’t bothered by the shift in conversation. 

“Ah, I had many things to discuss with Prince Orindell. You know, former Captain of the Knights to current Commander.”

“Anything worth sharing?” 

Younghoon hums. “Not much, although he is an excellent Commander, Prince Orindell,” Younghoon clarifies, “even despite his young age. What they say is true, he possesses a gift for...”

Jaehyun nods, listening half-heartedly to Younghoon for Jaehyun has no interest in the subjects of armies and battles. 

Eventually, Younghoon wears himself out with talk of the current state of the Knights, the supply chain routes, their management of northern bandits and uneasy eastern Lords, and whatever else Younghoon can think to comment on. And by the time he does, the horses are prepped and ready to go. The small, mismatched party of Lord Jaehyun, Captain Younghoon, and the Gift of Fortitude begin the two day journey south. 

The journey is quiet and tense. The only conversation coming from Younghoon and you making small talk about the weather and the shameful fail of the western harvest. They take rest at the Bronze Bridge. 

The Zalazar River is now a blood red color. Younghoon comments on how it’s a little early for the river to take such a dark color. He also mentions that this color is one of his favorites. 

“My favorite,” you begin, leaning over the edge to stare at the water, “is the blue that appears during the transition from winter to spring.”

They all, including the guards, stare at you, dumbfounded. You notice a second too late and turn your head towards them slowly. 

“What?” You breathe, and Jaehyun laughs when he realizes you’re being serious. He laughs at the notion that your favorite color of an ever-changing river is the color of all bodies of water.   

“In that case, Lady Gift,” Younghoon chuckles, “I think you’ll take a great liking to the sea.” 

They mount their horses and cross the rest of the Bronze Bridge and blood red river a little less tensely. 

***

They take rest at an inn for the night. Jaehyun finds how empty the inn is odd considering it is at the center of this town off the main road. Even if most of the rooms were unoccupied, the dining rooms of inns were always full at nights with the town’s people engrossed in conversation over a pint of beer. But tonight, with the guards resting upstairs, the inn’s dining room is mostly empty. Three tables are occupied and one of those three are occupied by Jaehyun, Younghoon, and you. Jaehyun remembers what you said about fear and hate being directed towards you. He starts to wonder how often you empty a room with fear, intentional or not.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You feel bad. It’s been so long since you’ve left the King’s City, that you’ve forgotten how the people outside the Golden Palace react to you. You have forgotten that most people don’t want to eat dinner and play drinking games with a Gift of the Spirit near. You make a mental note to cover up more next time you’re out. Then after a quick glance at the innkeeper behind the bar, you make another note to reimburse her for the money she must’ve lost thanks to you.  

You’re aware of the way Jaehyun squints at you, untrusting. The southern Lord hadn’t appeared to be so headstrong and stubborn when you met him this morning. But as Lord Jaehyun stares daggers at you, you guess that your first impression of him was wrong. Still, you’re tired of petty conflict. You want to help Jaehyun understand your motives without involving him in the palace’s politics. You want to make peace. 

You exhale sharply. 

“Lord Jaehyun,” his eyes widen when you address him, “Captain Younghoon, I know you must have many reasons to distrust me.” Jaehyun scoffs. You ignore it. “But I’d like to make peace with you both. I’m afraid I might not be able to answer all of your questions but perhaps there’s some that I can.” 

You feel uneasy. You aren’t one to make an effort to get someone to like you or trust you. And yet, you find yourself in front of Lord Jaehyun and Captain Younghoon nearly begging for their acceptance. 

“I have a question,” Younghoon begins, sitting up slightly. You nod. “What kind of bird do you travel with? I’ve never seen a bird like that before.” 

“Oh, the bird. It’s my personal Risal.” You say simply. You aren’t surprised to see the shock on their faces. Risals were extremely rare and even more expensive. They’re said to have been blessed by the Gods as messenger birds. That of course is the only explanation for how Risals are able to send any message anywhere and to anyone in no more than a day even if the one sending the message does not know where to find the one receiving. 

“My Gods, how in the world did you get your hands on a Risal?” Younghoon exclaims, like a little kid waiting for sweets. 

You smile. “It was a gift from the princes’ late mother, Roe.” The reminder makes your smile turn sad. Lord Jaehyun notices. 

“Are they as untraceable as they say?” 

You nod. “Tracking a Risal is impossible. It’s almost as if they disappear into thin air when they take flight.” 

“You’re very lucky.” Younghoon tells you with a laugh, and you let yourself believe that you’ve made some progress. Lord Jaehyun, however, doesn’t let you believe so for long. 

“I have a question.” Lord Jaehyun implores, bringing himself out of his silence. His voice is stern and a little cold. Younghoon looks uneasy. You beckon for him to continue anyways. “What exactly do you possess as a Gift of the Spirit?” His voice is filled with distrust, but when you meet his eyes, you're surprised to find that they aren’t as cold as his voice. 

“Jaehyun—“ Younghoon starts. 

“How do you mean?” You encourage him to continue. You know what he wants to hear. He wants to hear how you’re a killer by nature. He wants you to explain just how deadly you are. He wants you to prove his distrust. 

“What are your powers, Gift?” 

You flinch at the name. You flinch at the question. Both of which you hate. And yet, you’re no stranger to either. But you’ve already decided to make peace, and so peace you’ll make. 

“As you know, in ancient times Maratelli the archangel gave 14 roles to humans. The Seven Sins: Greed, Anger, Pride, Lust, Sloth, Gluttony, and Envy. And the Seven Gifts of the Spirit: Wisdom, Understanding, Counsel, Knowledge, Piety, Fear, and,” you pause to look at Lord Jaehyun directly, “Fortitude. The Sins and Gifts were given to the people as protectors. As humanity’s fighters. To answer your question Lord Jaehyun, I am an exceptionally skilled fighter. I was made and crafted by the Gods to fight for humans and protect them in ways they cannot. But the power is not almighty, the Seven Sins and Gifts are slow healers. Even small injuries can leave us bedridden for weeks.” 

Lord Jaehyun wastes no time, jumping into the next question. “Are you immortal?” 

“No.” 

“So you can die?” 

“Yes.” 

“By old age?” 

“No.” 

“Then how?” 

You wait a beat. “By giving up.” You don't explain any further. 

You had hoped to make peace with Lord Jaehyun tonight. Perhaps you had hoped for too much. 

--LORD JAEHYUN-- There’s a familiar tense silence while riding the next day. They reach Jaehyun’s estate by late afternoon, earlier than expected. 

You request to be taken straight to your quarters. 

“You’re acting strange.” Younghoon mutters, watching Jaehyun with a careful eye as he takes a spoonful of his soup. It’s only Jaehyun and Younghoon at dinner tonight. You decided you were too tired to attend. 

“How so?” Jaehyun questions, swirling his spoon around the bowl. 

“The cook made your favorite soup, and you’ve had only two spoons of it so far.”

“I ate earlier.” 

“It’s not just that Jaehyun.” Younghoon adds, and Jaehyun holds back a groan, dreading the coming conversation. “What’s gotten into you?” Jaehyun shrugs. And he can’t help but notice how sad Younghoon sounds when he says: “You aren’t yourself around her.” 

Jaehyun drops his spoon, placing his hands on his knees. “I just don’t trust her Younghoon. Something about her unsettles me.” 

Younghoon takes another sip of his soup. “You’re entitled to your judgement, but that does not mean you’re entitled to treat her so rudely. I just want the two of you to make peace. And believe it or not, she wants to make peace too.” 

Jaehyun huffs; he doesn’t feel like giving in easily tonight. “If the Gift wants to make peace, then let her make it.” 

“She’s already tried. And if you must call her something, she prefers Fortitude.” 

“Fortitude isn’t a name—”

“Neither is Gift.”

“— it’s a title, Younghoon.” 

“And what would you do if a title was the only name you had?” 

Jaehyun bites the inside of his cheek, mumbling, “but what if it’s not the only name she has?”

Younghoon shakes his head in frustration. “Jaehyun, I can only advise you to make peace. It’s up to you whether you do or not.” 

And with that Younghoon leaves from the dining room. Jaehyun finishes the rest of his dinner alone. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You were unhappy. You didn’t want to be at Lord Jaehyun’s estate in these strange southern lands. You did not want to be somewhere you were unwelcome. Even before your return to the Golden Palace, you never traveled too far away from the King’s City. The thought of being so far away from the lands you’re used to calling home makes your skin itch. 

There’s a knock on your door. You open it to a young servant girl. “Lady Gift, Lord Jaehyun is asking if you would like to accompany him on a walk to the beach.” 

You wonder for a second if this is some sort of joke. You can’t imagine Jaehyun waking up and deciding he wants to spend time with you willingly. Then you suspect if Younghoon put him up to it. 

“You can tell him I’m coming and that I’ll meet him by the back gates.” 

You get dressed quickly and walk down the estate to the gates. When you arrive, Lord Jaehyun is already waiting, facing away from the estate and towards the grassy path. 

“Lord Jaehyun.” 

He nods at your greeting, and the walk begins in silence. 

“You seem to already know your way around the estate.” Jaehyun mentions by the time the grass and sand have begun to mix under your feet. 

“Younghoon gave me a very thorough tour this morning.” 

Jaehyun laughs but it sounds small and strained. “Yes, Younghoon is not the type to spare any details.” 

You settle back into a silence. You’re surprised with how civil the walk has been so far, and you duly note how this might be the first time Jaehyun hasn’t stared at you hatefully. With another look at the boy, you find that his eyes—when they aren’t filled with anger—are actually quite kind. You also find beauty in the way the sunlight bounces off them. You smile. 

“Lord Jaehyun,” you address softly, “did Younghoon put you up to this?” 

He chuckles, and instead of answering your question, he says: “Lady Gift, I would like to apologize for how I treated you these past couple days. I am not used to the happenings of the Golden Palace. I was shocked. But that’s no excuse for how I acted. I’m sorry. I truly am.”

For the second time that day, you’re surprised, and not only because Jaehyun is apologizing but also because of how sincerely he sounds saying it. 

“Thank you, Lord Jaehyun.” 

He shakes his head. “It’s the least I could do, Lady Gift. But I hope you accept this as an apology for my behavior as well, and that you find it in you to forgive me.” 

You nod. “I’ll forgive you if you agree to drop the formalities.” 

Jaehyun claps his hands. “Doesn’t seem like you’re getting nearly as much out of this arrangement as I am, but I accept nonetheless.” He stops walking and holds out his hand. “Do we have an agreement?” 

You shake his outstretched hand. “I suppose we do.” 

He smiles, and you’re shocked for the third time that day. Shocked that the man before you is the same one you met at the Golden Palace. The same man whose hatred for you was so strong you could have sensed it across a room. The same man who is taking you on this walk and no longer calling you Gift. Shocked that Jaehyun is the one to make the peace you wanted so badly. 

You find yourself to be smiling too. 

“Come on,” Jaehyun says, continuing the walk, “I think it’s about time you saw the sea.” 

You both continue down the now sandy path. You admire the way Jaehyun so easily walks in the sand. You, on the other hand, struggle to adapt to your feet sinking and shifting in the ground beneath you. 

Jaehyun tells you that walking in the sand will get easier with time. It takes a moment for you to register the fact that he noticed. 

“Wow,” is all you can say at the blue expanse before you. You think Roen was right. The paintings do not do justice to the sea. The paintings were unable to capture the real thing. 

“You said that blue is your favorite shade of the Zalazar River right?” 

Your smile widens. “Yes, but this…” you motion to the water, “this is even better.” 

Jaehyun hums triumphantly. “Accept this as a peace offering.” 

“Oh Jaehyun, we have already bargained and made peace.” 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re actually terrible at bargaining.” He laughs. “That deal was far too uneven for me to accept with dignity. So please, accept this instead.” 

“I was not aware you knew how to make a joke.” You tease. 

“Please,” he repeats, sounding suddenly serious. 

You tilt your head. “I also was not aware the sea was yours to give as peace offerings.” 

“It’s not.” He bites back a smile. “But it is yours to take.” 

You think for a moment. And when the next wave crashes into the shore, you nod.

***

You send a message with the Risal to Roen that night. 

Dear Roen, I hope things at the palace are doing well. You were right. The sea is so much more than I thought. The sea is something else entirely. Give everyone my love. -Fortitude 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun is sitting at his desk. He has piles of papers to sort through, file, fill out, and sign, and yet he can’t seem to focus on the small amount of work he’s obliged to do as a Lord. Instead he’s focused on the view outside the window of his office which overlooks the courtyard. More specifically, he focuses on the way you sit at the edge of the fountain teasing a stray cat with a loose string. Suddenly, you look towards the sky and stick your arm out. A bird swoops down from nowhere and perches itself on your extended forearm. Jaehyun wonders if your abilities as a Gift include an inclination towards animals. The bird drops an envelope in your lap; you read the cover before setting it down beside you. Jaehyun squints at the scene and recognizes the bird as your Risal. This piques his interest. 

“Younghoon,” Jaehyun calls out. Younghoon tends to keep Jaehyun company while he works, reading a book in the corner armchair. But when Jaehyun is met with silence, he looks over to find the book closed on his lap and Younghoon fast asleep. Jaehyun covers Younghoon with a blanket and exits his office silently. He figures he might as well go for a walk if he isn’t going to get any work done. 

When he finds you in the courtyard, the cat has settled down in your lap, and the Risal sits on the stretch of fountain ledge next to you. You seem to sense Jaehyun behind you before he bothers to make his presence known. 

“Have you already finished your work Jaehyun?” You ask, not turning around to face him. He walks the circumference of the fountain before stopping a little before you and answering. 

“Not exactly.” He sits down on the fountain ledge next to the Risal. 

“Well,” you mumble scratching a place behind the cat’s ear, “I suppose now is as good a time for a break as any.” 

“Yes, I thought so too.” Jaehyun responds, more focused on the bird in front of him. “Can I pet it?”

You nod. You advise him to start at the beak until the bird trusts him. It doesn’t take long for the bird to nuzzle under his palm. 

“It likes you.” you say, sounding a little shocked. “Winning a Risal’s trust usually takes much longer.” 

Jaehyun smiles shyly. The two of you settle into a silence. You scratching the stray cat to sleep and Jaehyun running his hand along the bird in awe. It had become like that between you two. There was never much conversation and yet somehow the silences you shared never felt empty or weird. Jaehyun isn’t sure if he can truly trust you, but he does know he was wrong about you. You’re no monster. In fact, you’re just as human as him and Younghoon. 

“How do they work?” Jaehyun wonders, looking up from the bird. “The Risals.”

You sit up slightly. “Would you like to see?” 

He nods. You set the cat down on the ground and beckon for Jaehyun to stand up as well. 

You collect the Risal on your arm and start walking away from him. “Move farther away.” You tell him. “It won’t work if we’re too close.” 

Once you are the entire length of the courtyard apart, you nod in approval and say something Jaehyun can’t hear to the bird. The bird suddenly launches itself from your arm and soars into the sky. Jaehyun closely watches how the Risal disappears behind the clouds. 

You cup your hands around your mouth and shout from across the courtyard: “When you hear a bird’s screech, hold out your arm.” 

Jaehyun waits a moment. Eventually the screech comes, and Jaehyun thinks how you forgot to mention how loud it would be. The screech makes him jump and clasp his arms over his ears. You don't even flinch. Jaehyun looks to see if the cat is spooked and finds that the cat is still peacefully asleep on the ground. Out of the corner his eye, he sees you pointing wildly at his arm. Jaehyun quickly sticks it out. He looks up at the sky only to see the Risal already swooping down and landing neatly on his arm. His mouth opens in shock. 

“Now,” you yell, “tell it to go to me.” 

Jaehyun looks the Risal in the eye. He wonders if this is all some elaborate joke. The bird couldn’t possibly understand him if he were to speak to it, right? Then he wonders if he’s mad for believing that it can. He inhales. 

“Go to the Gift of Fortitude.” 

And Jaehyun swears the Risal seems to nod before leaping off his arm and flying straight up into the sky once more. He watches the sky keenly, and then also covers his ears with his hands in anticipation of the screech. It never comes. Instead, the bird dives down from the sky, calming landing on your outstretched arm. Jaehyun runs to you immediately.  

“How come there was no screech this time?” Jaehyun asks breathlessly, meeting you at your end of the courtyard. 

“There was.” You say simply, petting the bird. Jaehyun furrows his brows. “The screech is only heard by the one who the Risal is meant for.” It clicks for Jaehyun then why you didn’t flinch and why the cat is still in a ball by the fountain. 

“So,” Jaehyun says slowly, “how does the Risal understand the name you tell it?”

You shrug. 

“What if you get the name wrong? Or there’s multiple people with that name?”

You shrug again. “They’re never wrong though, in my experiences at least. It’s almost as if they understand the intent more than the name itself.”

“And the way it just disappears into the sky?” 

“Remarkable isn’t it?”

Jaehyun smiles at the child-like excitement in your voice. He nods. “They must be incredibly smart creatures.” 

“They’re not just smart.” You begin scratching a spot under the Risal’s beak. The bird melts under your touch. “They’re magical.”

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

Dear Fortitude, I thought you’d like the sea. Things at the palace are as fine as can be. Orindell misses you dearly. I’ll keep you updated on Father and other palace occurrings. Although in all honesty, things have been quiet since your departure. I hope you’re resting well and enjoying the southern scenery despite the circumstances. Give my regards to Captain Younghoon and Lord Jaehyun. -Roen 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

“The service was long today.” Jaehyun states exiting the temple with Younghoon and you. The southern temples, unlike the palace temple, were old and traditionally built. This temple in particular had been built long before the Holy Wars. 

“I didn’t think so.” Younghoon says, swatting a hand around his face to shoo away a bug. “What did you think?” 

But when they look over at you, you appear to be somewhere else altogether. Suddenly, you still. 

 “Is that a…” you begin, your voice small, unbelieving. 

Jaehyun follows your gaze to a building at the top of the hill behind the temple. He follows your gaze to the sanctuary. You start walking towards the hill before Jaehyun and Younghoon can stop you. 

The sanctuary hasn’t been used in years, and the state of it shocks Jaehyun. In fact, the sanctuary itself shocks Jaehyun. He’s never been inside one. His knowledge of them was limited to what he had seen and read in textbooks growing up. Before the Holy Wars, all temples used to have sanctuaries nearby. They were built in honor of the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts of the Spirit. Sculptures were meant to line the walls of the sanctuaries, seven on the left for the Sins and seven on the right for the Gifts. And at the front of the sanctuaries, a sculpture of Maratelli the archangel was meant to stand tall. However after the Holy Wars, most sanctuaries were destroyed by mobs. People no longer felt the need to pay their respects to the beings who started the war that nearly destroyed the kingdom. The few sanctuaries that weren’t burned to the ground were left vandalized, most of the sculptures reduced to rubble. 

The sanctuary Jaehyun, Younghoon, and you stand in is no exception. Cobwebs cover all the walls and a thick layer of dust clouds everything in sight. The sanctuary is hauntingly cold and damp. Only two sculptures are left standing: Maratelli’s, whose arms and wings have been broken off, and one of the Gifts. Upon closer examination, Jaehyun finds that the other standing sculpture is the one dedicated to you, the Gift of Fortitude. The face of the sculpture is gone as if someone chipped away at the stone until the contours of the face disappeared. And on top of the blank stone where the face should be, die is written in black paint and monster is written on the torso. The sight makes Jaehyun sick to the stomach. 

But that’s not where Jaehyun finds you. Instead, Jaehyun and Younghoon find you kneeling on the floor next to the broken stone of what once was a sculpture dedicated to the Sin of Pride. Jaehyun helplessly realizes the tragedy that must litter your past in the way that everyone you once knew died before your eyes. You bow your head to the floor and sob. Jaehyun feels like an intruder in this moment, as if he’s watching something personal and private, something not meant for his eyes. The broken marble you bury your face into does little to conceal the pain in your sobs, and Jaehyun can’t help the way his heart aches at the sheer amount of heartbreak that rings from your cries. 

Jaehyun and Younghoon decide to wait for you outside. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“If I may ask, when was the last time you had a worthy opponent?” Younghoon asks, breaking the silence of your lunch. Only you and Younghoon were present today. 

You think it over for a moment. It's been a while since you’ve fought anyone. Even while training Juyeon and the Princes, you never fought them yourself. “The Holy Wars most likely.” 

Younghoon nods, placing a hand under his chin. “Not that I would make one, but one of these days could we fight?”

You suck in a breath. Younghoon’s question feels foreign in your mind. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“Just a friendly scuffle?” 

“I don’t—“ 

“Or perhaps a sword fight?”

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“We could set up rules to prevent such, and I can take a little pain. I might be retired but—”

“No, Younghoon.” You cut him off. “I don’t want to fight you.” 

He shrinks back into his seat. “Forgive me. But…” he hesitates, “can I ask why not?” 

You sigh. “I don’t fight for pleasure anymore.” 

***

The sea is quieter than usual and the waves crash in whispers the day you and Younghoon go for a walk along the shore. You had quickly adapted to the way your feet sink in the sand; and today, you find comfort in it.  

It’s also the day that Younghoon reveals his plans to head home soon. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that this wasn’t Younghoon’s home. He explains how his family lives farther east and how he splits his time between Jaehyun’s estate and his own home, travelling back and forth frequently. And when you question why he even bothers returning to Jaehyun’s estate, why he bothers leaving home, Younghoon laughs loudly and explains that Jaehyun pays him good money to stay and keep him company. You also hadn’t realized that this was Younghoon’s job. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

“Don’t you think it’s a little desperate to pay Younghoon to leave his family and keep you company?” You tease as you and Jaehyun wave goodbye to Younghoon.

Jaehyun scoffs, side eyeing Younghoon’s retreating figure. “Is that what he told you?” You nod. “I’ll have you know he was staying for free before I insisted on him accepting the money.” 

You laugh, and Jaehyun notices the way your eyes crinkle. “Yes, yes. I figured as much.”   

The young servant girl appears then, asking Jaehyun if anything more is needed. Jaehyun tells her she can go home for the day, and she flushes a dark red. Jaehyun notices how you notice. 

And when the servant girl leaves, Jaehyun watches the way you smile, your lips concealing a secret.

“Fortitude,” he blurts, “would you like to go on a walk with me?” 

***

“What’s her name? The young servant girl?” You ask as you both start along the path towards the beach. 

“Vina.”

“And how old is she?”

“15 come winter I believe.”

You nod slowly, a smile similar to the one before growing on your face. “It’s cute, how smitten she is by you.” 

Jaehyun bites his bottom lip. “I don’t mean to make her…” He trails off, unable to find the right words. 

“Smile less.” 

Jaehyun quirks his head, looking up at you. “My smile…?”

You nod. “It’s your smile she falls for.” 

Jaehyun lets the statement sink, and the wind seems to pick up while he does. A sound faintly resembling a growl comes from you. He looks over to find you struggling to keep your hair at bay, the dark locks flying wildly in the wind. 

You huff, annoyed. “I didn’t bring anything to tie it back with.” 

“You could braid it.” Jaehyun suggests.

You run a hand through your hair in another attempt to push it back. “How terrible is it that I never learned how to braid it myself?” 

Jaehyun blinks at you. You pick at a spot below your chin. 

“Don’t laugh.” you stutter, but it’s too late because Jaehyun is already chuckling behind his hand. You shove him, hard. 

“Would you like me to braid it for you?” 

You look at him, your hair unattractively covering your face. You push it back, determining whether Jaehyun’s offer is genuine or not. 

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Your shoulders drop. “Yes please.” 

Jaehyun moves behind you, gathering your hair in his hands and beginning to braid it. 

“Where’d you learn how to braid anyways?” You ask, voice raised to be heard against the wind. 

“My sister, Insia, would make me braid her hair sometimes.” 

You shove a loose strand behind your ear. “I didn’t know you had a sister.” 

“She’s illegitime. Technically, we both are. My father never married.” 

“Where is she?” You wonder aloud as Jaehyun finishes the braid off. 

“She married an islander, gave up her ladyship to do so, and now lives there with him.” Jaehyun allows his eyes to drift towards the sea. Islands were peppered all along the coast, and the island Insia and her husband and kids lived on was only a couple hours from here by boat. Jaehyun made sure they visited each other often enough, and wrote to each other even more frequently. 

“It must be nice.” You mutter, focused on knotting the end of your braid. “To have a sibling.” 

And Jaehyun swears he’s never heard anyone sound so lonely. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

The walks along the shore had become a daily activity for you and Jaehyun, but today Jaehyun was busy which left you helplessly bored and laying in your bed staring at the ceiling. Your mind had begun to wander to Peter and his impossible journey, to Juyeon and your forgotten conversation, to the King and his future plans, and to Lord Seth. Maybe the King was smart to send you here after all, being far away from the Golden Palace made you forget why you were sent here to begin with. It was easy to ignore the gravity of the palace issues here at Jaehyun’s estate. It was easy to push aside the fog in your mind when you thought about your past. It was almost too easy to throw your worries into the sea and watch them crash against the rocks. 

So when Vina walks in with a fresh load of laundry, you don't hesitate to ask if the young girl would care to accompany you on a walk. And when Vina agrees, you’re grateful that you’ve found a distraction. 

When you ask why Vina works, you learn that she is the oldest of seven. You frown at the thought of Vina's wages going all to her family, but she’s quick to tell you not to worry. Apparently Jaehyun pays the estate staff well. The thought makes you smile. A question arises at the faint blush appearing on Vina’s cheeks. You hesitate a little. 

“Vina, do you happen to have a crush on Lord Jaehyun?” 

Vina freezes like a deer. “Oh Lady Gift, it isn’t like that please don’t misunderstand.” She shakes her head vigorously. “It’s just that… Lord Jaehyun has shown me nothing but kindness and I-“ She cuts herself off, fidgeting with her fingers. You assure her that it’s okay. Vina continues unsurely. “It’s just that it’s hard to not direct my feeling of gratitude in that way.” 

“And,” you hum, nudging her shoulder, “I’m sure it doesn’t help how handsome Lord Jaehyun is.” 

An embarrassed smile emerges on Vina’s face, and it turns almost mischievous when she says: “I would like it to go on record that I was not the one who said it.” 

You erupt in laughter. 

***

If you knew Vina wasn’t skilled in the art of keeping things to herself, you wouldn’t have admitted to the young girl your thoughts of Jaehyun’s face. But alas, you had, and there was nothing you could do to stop the gossiping of a young girl. It was just your luck that Jaehyun took it upon himself to tease you for the admission endlessly. 

The day the teasing stops is the day you want nothing more than to shoot an arrow. 

To your dismay, Jaehyun’s estate does not house an archery gallery. But when Jaehyun learns of your desire, he offers an alternative. So with the bow and arrow you brought from the Golden Palace and wooden plates acting as targets held up by Jaehyun himself, your wish is granted. 

You notch an arrow and breathe, taking note of the wind shift before letting the arrow fly. It hits the plate exactly where you had sent it. 

“So is it safe to assume that archery is another gift you have as a Gift?” Jaehyun shouts to you from across the beach, pulling the arrow from out the plate and dropping it in a pile. 

“Yes, it is.” You respond, grabbing another arrow from beside you. You take notice of how nonchalantly Jaehyun stands. “Are you not frightened by me shooting arrows towards a target that lies in your hand?” 

He shrugs. “Well, are you scared?” 

You’re taken aback by the question, but you aren’t scared. The arrow would land only where you wanted it to. 

“No.”

“Then why should I be.” Jaehyun says easily, holding the target back up. “Also, I know you’d never purposely hurt me.” He adds with a coy smile. “You think I’m too handsome.” 

You string the arrow in less than a second, aiming straight for Jaehyun’s face. “What was that?” 

A giggling Jaehyun cowers behind the target and runs. 

***

Sleep doesn’t come to you that night. Your mind runs wild with thoughts of the Golden Palace. You think and overthink the events that led up to Peter being sent away and then again the ones that led up to Lord Seth’s untimely death. You find that the memories slip past your fingers, a fog encompassing them. The same fog that clouds your memories of the past. It appears that your mind houses more fog than actual memories.  It appears that the fog is driving you mad. 

You elect to think of something new. Your eyes land on the Risal from Roen you have yet to respond to. You would’ve sent one back sooner if the line about Orindell didn’t make you so upset. You reluctantly recall your last conversation with him. He was still the same foolish little boy you have always known. You suppose that’s what makes your falling out so heartbreaking. You have known all three princes from the moment they were born. You raised them alongside Roe, their mother and your dearest friend, and when Roe passed, you raised them like they were your own family. Not exactly like a mother, but something more akin to a cousin or an aunt. The three princes were the closest thing you had to a family, and the thought that Orindell could love you romantically repulsed you. You were mad at Orindell, disappointed in him, and yet, you still miss him as much as you miss Roen and Peter. You long to talk with the three princes like you once did, before Orindell loved you and before they were old enough to concern themselves with the state of the kingdom and the state of their own father. And this time, the longing is what drives you mad.   

You decide that thinking will only lead to misery tonight, and with a glance at the full moon outside your window, you also decide a walk must be better than lying here, drowning in your own thoughts. You pull on a pair slippers before silently exiting your room. 

The beach is quiet tonight. The waves tease and kiss the shore and then disappear back into the sea. While you walk, you think about all the ways the sea has shown itself to you. You only realize how far you’ve walked when you reach the rocks. 

You were told about the rocky cliffs that laid a little to the west of Jaehyun’s estate by Jaehyun, Younghoon, and Vina. But you had never walked so far with either of them to see them yourself. 

The waves don’t seem larger here, but they crash against the rocks as if they are. The waves and the rocks clash like two forces in battle. Somehow the image and the sound bring a bit of comfort to the battle raging in your mind. 

Where you stand, the rocks are scattered, but further along the beach, the rocks multiply and gather until they completely cover the sand. The rocks start flat and then pile on top of each other until you’re staring at the rocky cliffs you have heard so much about. You think you like this rocky beach more than the sandy one you’ve grown accustomed to. 

You stiffen when you notice a figure sitting on one of the flat rocks. The person looks tired in the way they sit with their shoulders dropped and dragging, and yet the person is so captivated by the sea they don’t even notice you coming. Upon closer examination, you realize that you recognize the figure sitting alone on the rocks. Your guard drops when you realize the person is Jaehyun. 

“Jaehyun,” you say, appearing behind him, carefully walking towards where he sits on the rocks.

“Ah, Fortitude.” He doesn’t flinch at your appearance. He doesn’t even bother taking his eyes off the water. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You hum. “And you?” 

He shakes his head. “Younghoon calls this spot the insomniac's bed.” 

“Do you come here often then?”

“Nearly every night.” He looks away from the sea and stares at you still standing behind him.“Please,” he stutters, patting a dry patch of rock next to him, “sit.” You do.

“Is it safe to jump into the water from there?” You ask suddenly. 

You wait for Jaehyun to follow your eyes. “Ah, from the cliff?” You nod. “It isn’t safe to jump from most cliffs. There could be rocks in the water, or if the waves are too strong they could push you back against the base of the cliff.” 

“Yes, but what about this cliff?” 

Jaehyun sighs, although he doesn’t sound tired or frustrated. “They call that cliff Angel’s Peak.” 

“Why?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Because you’ll need the wings of an angel to survive it.” 

“Oh.” You don't think about it any further. 

The two of you don’t speak, the waves that crash against the rocks do that for you. You let the sound overwhelm you, feeling more peace and more clarity than you’ve felt in years. 

As a Gift of the Spirit, you lived longer than most, and part of your powers allow you to stay young. You could though, grow old. You could wake up one day and decide to start aging again. You could let herself wrinkle and grey like everyone else. But after King Avi died, after the last person who knew you as more than just a Gift stopped aging, you did too. You have been told that even though your face doesn’t show your age, your eyes do. It’s been said that your eyes tell the story of all the years you’ve endured. 

You study Jaehyun. This must be it, you think. This must be what people see when they look at your eyes because when you look at Jaehyun’s, you can see the life he’s endured behind them. You can see the age behind the brown. You wonder what Jaehyun must be thinking in this moment to make his life appear so long and sad. You wonder how Jaehyun manages to feel like an equal to you despite your life being so much longer. You wonder—

“How old are you?”

If Jaehyun’s shocked by the sudden question, he doesn’t show it. “As old as Peter,” then with a sigh he adds, “but I feel as old as you.” 

And with the way Jaehyun says it, as if he holds mountains on his shoulders, you believe him. 

“Well, maybe not as old as you,” Jaehyun continues, talking quickly as if he misspoke. “I just meant that I feel old. Or at least older than I am.” 

“No,” you mumble, picking at a loose strand, “I think I understand.”

“Can I ask you a question then?” 

“Depends.” 

Jaehyun waits a beat as if he’s testing the words on his tongue first. “How old are you?”

You inhale. “Too old, Jaehyun.” 

He doesn’t ask you to explain any further, but when you think about the years behind Jaehyun’s eyes, something in you yearns to tell him more anyways. 

“It’s a lonely thing to do,” you continue, eyes trained on the water, “to get old but not grow old.” 

“So then why don’t you?” 

“These days, I’m not so sure.” You meet Jaehyun’s gaze, and suddenly you feel as tired as you do old. 

“Good night, Jaehyun,” you tell him, standing up, “I hope sleep comes to you soon.” 

*** 

Dear Roen, I miss the old days. Why did you boys have to grow so old? Why did things have to get so difficult? Keep me updated on palace news, but spare me the court’s gossip. I worry about Peter too much for my own good. Tell me if you hear anything from him. Tell Orindell that I miss him too, but that I’ve missed him long before I left the Golden Palace. -Fortitude

—LORD JAEHYUN—

The wind was softer and the sun hid behind the clouds more often after that night at the rocks. It was hard for Jaehyun to explain, but after that day, something had changed. You let him in, and suddenly, things were different. You would ask Jaehyun to braid your hair again, and he’d do it with a smile. He found himself craving more.

So when he asks you if you were born as a Gift of the Spirit, he knows he’s been thinking about the question long before he felt comfortable enough to ask it. 

“No.” You tell him, kicking your feet in the sand. “I was born normal. Just like anyone else.” 

“Oh,” Jaehyun says softly. 

“It happened when I was six.” You continue. “The other six Gifts came to my village, told me I was destined to be Fortitude, and that was that.” 

“Six?” Jaehyun repeats, saddened by how young you were. You nod. “You never got to be a kid.” 

Your mouth twitches. “Yeah.”

And when the frown that appears on your lips pulls at a certain part of Jaehyun, he decides he wants to help you take back a little piece of your stolen past. “Tell me something you wish you could’ve done.” 

You squint at him. 

“As a child, what’s one thing you wish you could’ve done?” 

You exhale deeply. “Oh, I don’t know.” You pause, then laugh a little. “I guess, run.” 

It was Jaehyun’s turn to squint. “Run?”

“I mean to run like a child. Barefoot and wild and mad.” 

Jaehyun starts pulling his shoes off. 

“Well,” Jaehyun states when you give him a blank stare, “are you going to run with me or what?”

Slowly, you begin pulling your boots off too. Then once you’re both barefoot, feet sinking in the cold sand, Jaehyun nods, and 

you run. 

By the time you stop, the air has emptied itself from Jaehyun’s lungs. You, on the other hand, glow with something Jaehyun can’t put his finger on, but you glow and smile so brightly Jaehyun thinks the numbness in his legs is worth it. 

Jaehyun only realizes you’ve run as far as the rocks when you start climbing up to the top of Angel’s Peak. Jaehyun begrudgingly climbs up the cliff behind you. 

When you finally reach the top, Jaehyun sits, exhausted and lets his legs dangle over the edge. He inhales, refilling his lungs with the sea’s salty mist. 

Jaehyun loves the sea. He loves the water. It’s almost as if the water is a part of him, as if the salty sea carries his heart between the waves. And somehow the water loves Jaehyun back. Insia used to call him a mermaid because of how well he swims, and at one point, Jaehyun had convinced himself he was. Jaehyun feels at home by the sea. He feels peace listening to the seagulls and the lapping water. If time allowed it, Jaehyun would spend years staring at the blue water. 

Today however, sitting on top of the rocky cliffs with the Gift of Fortitude, Jaehyun doesn’t watch the sun dip into the ocean and disappear beyond the horizon. Today Jaehyun watches you. He watches how you seem to be smiling without a smile. He watches the water spray on your forehead and the scrunch of your nose when it does. He watches stories of a kingdom before his birth and of people he will never meet unfold behind your eyes. He wonders how much time he could spend staring at you. 

You meet his eyes, and Jaehyun doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look so happy. Yet for some reason, when your lips do turn up in a smile, all he can think of is the image of you at the sanctuary. How you knelt on the floor and clutched the crushed marble belonging to the Sin of Pride. All he can think of is the soul-crushing amount of hurt in your cries. 

Jaehyun hesitates. 

“Who was the Sin of Pride to you?” 

In that moment, the seagulls seem to turn quiet, and the waves seem to pause a second away from hitting the rocks. Jaehyun thinks he’s gone too far or that he’s asked you too much. In that moment, Jaehyun wants to swallow the words back. But before he can, the seagulls break their silence, screeching somewhere in the clouds. And the waves don’t just hit the rocks, they slam and bang and beat against them. Jaehyun coughs the words up before he can take them back. Your lips part, and Jaehyun’s forced to watch as a new story unfolds behind your eyes, one of youth, loss, hurt, and hate. And then you surprise him by smiling. 

“The Sin of Pride,” you start tucking your knees under your chin, “was my best friend before I was a Gift and he was a Sin. His name was Sunwoo, and we grew up in the same village. He was announced as the Sin of Pride a week before I was.” 

Jaehyun repeats the name in his mind. Then once outloud. You blink as if it’s weird to hear it said by someone else. It sparks Jaehyun’s curiosity, and he wonders aloud if you had a name before Fortitude. 

“I did, but I’m no longer the person that name was given to.” You say, voice low and cold. 

“Forgive me if I intruded.” 

You shake your head. “You asked. There’s a difference.” 

He turns his eyes to the water. “Is it hard to remember?” 

“Usually.” You tell him with a small pout. Then after a pause you add: “When I think about the past, there’s this fog, and that fog makes remembering painful. In fact the headache I had the morning we first met was caused by trying to remember something the night before. But right now, the fog in my mind isn’t so thick; right now, I’m not struggling to remember.” 

Jaehyun listens to you speak intently. He doesn’t want to push you, but he can’t help his own curiosity. So when Jaehyun hears an invitation laced within the tone of your voice. Jaehyun realizes that some part of you wants to remember as much as Jaehyun wants to know. 

And so, he says: “Tell me about your past.”

And you do. 

You tell Jaehyun about the village you grew up in and your parents. You describe to him how different and peaceful the kingdom was under the reign of the Queen Raffa who ruled when you were young. You tell him about Sunwoo and the week he was taken. Then, you tell him about the week you were taken yourself. 

“Back then, all the Sins and Gifts were adored by the people, they were loved.” You recall, and Jaehyun can’t help but notice the jealousy that seeps between the crack in your voice. “They rode with such confidence and were respected by the people. So respected that my mother didn’t even hesitate to let them take me away.” This time sadness is what seeps through the crack.  

“Where’d they take you?” 

You halt at Jaehyun’s question. “I don’t remember,” you say slowly as if you aren’t sure of the words leaving your own mouth. “The next thing I do remember is arriving at the Golden Palace, but by then, they had already made me the Gift of Fortitude.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m not sure.” You scratch at your chin. “And now that I think about it, it must’ve been at least a year between when I left my family to when I was taken to the Golden Palace.” 

Jaehyun turns to you, wondering how you could possibly lose an entire year of memory, and then wondering how terrible it must be for you knowing that you have. 

“Did you get to see your family again?” 

You shake your head. “My mother fought and died in the Holy Wars. I saw my father once, after it was all over, but he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. He wanted nothing to do with the person who was on the side of the war his wife died fighting against.” 

“But what about the fact that you're his daughter?”

You bite your bottom lip. “At that point, he no longer saw me as his daughter.”

Jaehyun can’t imagine how much it must hurt to admit, especially considering how much it hurts Jaehyun to even hear. 

“But it was okay, because I never really knew my father and because I had Sunwoo and later Avi too.” You tell Jaehyun with a smile. “By the time Sunwoo and I became Sins and Gifts, the two groups were already fighting; they just hadn’t made it into a war yet. Raffa went as far as having the Gifts and Sins stay in opposite wings of the Golden Palace to avoid confrontation. Sunwoo and I used to sneak out to the palace roof at nights just to talk. But then,” your smile turns down, “Raffa was killed.”

Jaehyun knows this part although you repeat the story written in textbooks anyways. The Queen was murdered under an order from the Gifts, and by the time her son, Avi, took the throne, the Seven Gifts had fled from the palace, marking the start of the Holy Wars.

“I didn’t see Sunwoo much after that. The next and last time I saw him was right before he died.” You continue. 

“Is that why you switched sides?” 

You nod. “As Sins and Gifts, we’re gifted with fighting skill, but our injuries are fatal. That’s how most of the Sins and Gifts died during the Holy Wars. So when I heard news that Sunwoo had been injured, I knew it was only a matter of time until he would be dead too. He was being nursed inside the Golden Palace, and as a Gift, I wasn’t allowed in. So King Avi struck me a deal. Avi said that if I protected him and stayed loyal to him until his death, he would allow me to come to the palace and see Sunwoo.”

You stop to breathe. Jaehyun doesn’t say anything, but you watch him as if you’re waiting for him too. Jaehyun thinks it’s wrong, what King Avi did. Jaehyun thinks he had no right to make you indebted to him. Somehow, you seem to sense what Jaehyun’s thinking. 

“It’s easy to point blame, but in reality, the line between right and wrong and between good intentions and bad ones are more blurred than they appear. Avi wasn’t much older than me. Avi watched his mother die in the wake of this conflict between the Sins and Gifts, a conflict he had nothing to do with. Avi was as young and as desperate and as scared as I was, only he was the King. By then, I was only 13. I didn’t know much better. I was desperate and more scared of losing my best friend over the trust of the last remaining Gift so… I accepted. I sacrificed everything to watch Sunwoo take his dying breath.” 

Through the memories you share with him, Jaehyun begins to understand. He learns more about the Holy Wars through your pain and fear than he ever did in his history lessons. But most of all, Jaehyun understands that you were too young to shoulder the weight of war. 

“When the last remaining Gift other than me died, I gave up the war. I ended five years of wasted blood and pointless death just like that.” You pick at the sand under your nail. “I never liked the war. I was never even told what we were fighting for until the war was over.” You say, and if you can tell how surprised Jaehyun is to hear that you didn't even know the reason for the Holy Wars, you ignore it. “I fought blindly, and I surrendered blindly too.” 

Jaehyun stays silent, but his mind runs wild. How many days did you spend on a battlefield? How many lives did you take? How much blood did you allow to shed for a cause you didn’t even know? 

“Do you regret it?” He asks, focused on the water because at that moment Jaehyun can’t trust himself to look at you. 

You’re quiet. 

“I regret it all.” 

The image of you weeping in the sanctuary appears in Jaehyun’s mind again. He hears something new in his memory of your cries. He hears regret. 

The small part of Jaehyun that’s upset with you dissolves the moment he looks over and sees the regret that darkens your eyes. In that moment, Jaehyun can’t manage to feel anything but pity towards the person next to him. 

“It's terrible what I did.” You say solemnly. “I sat idly by while half the kingdom died before my eyes. I know that people call me a monster, and how can I say that I’m not when I’m responsible for the deaths of so many?” You look at him, but Jaehyun feels frozen because he can’t seem to let go of the fact that you were only 13 when this all happened. 

“Fortitude,” Jaehyun says gently with all the love he can muster. Love to make up for the hate you so deeply feel. Not towards anyone, not towards the world. But the shocking amount of hate you feel towards yourself. “No part of you is a monster. Because the Holy Wars were not your fault. And because it never will be.” 

Jaehyun can see something in you come apart. Jaehyun can see the deep-rooted hate you have harbored for yourself escape from the corners of your eyes. 

And when Jaehyun says, “The sins of your predecessors are not yours to suffer,” he swears he hears something within you break.

You both stare at the sea in a deafening silence. It’s a long time before anyone speaks again. But by the time Jaehyun does say something, the heavy air has been taken away by the current. 

“Although I’m still curious,” you motion for Jaehyun to continue, “what did the Holy Wars turn out to be about?” 

You close your eyes and keep them closed for longer than Jaehyun can call normal. When you do open your eyes again, they’re angry, and there’s just a hint of venom in your voice when you say: “I can’t remember.” 

You throw your hands up. “Oh Jaehyun, there’s so much I don’t know. About this kingdom and its history. About me and what it means to be a Gift of the Spirit. I don’t even know if there was a Gift of Fortitude before me. All of these things I was supposed to learn from the other Gifts. They were meant to teach me and mentor me, but they were too concerned with their own conflict. They left me with so many unanswered questions and unsolved mysteries. Half of which concern myself. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as it is if Avi didn’t have all the libraries burned to the ground and all of the historic scrolls and teachings from the Elders reduced to ashes with it. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so lost.”

Jaehyun halts. “It was King Avi?” He questions in disbelief, remembering the mysterious burnings of all the libraries in the kingdom except for the one residing in the Golden Palace. “King Avi was the one who set fires to the libraries?”

“Oh, right,” you sigh, “I forgot that was a secret.” And in the next moment, you’re nearly laughing. “You know Jaehyun, I’ve never told anyone these things before.”

Jaehyun tilts his head to the side. “Why not?”

“No one’s ever asked.”

Jaehyun watches the waves. He finds a picture of himself in the waves and one of you in the rocks. For he appears and is tall, grand, rolling, and proud, but then he crashes and disappears back into the murky waters. And the rocky cliffs watch it all happen. You are the cliff, still and unyielding; while Jaehyun is just another wave, there in the moment and gone in the next.

“Did you love him?” Jaehyun asks then, the image of the wave crashing against the rock replaying in his mind. 

“Sunwoo?” 

Jaehyun nods, and you look up to the sky. 

“I was too young to even know what love looked like.”

It’s then that Jaehyun tastes the salt on his lips. 

***

After that day, you’re bedridden for some time with a migraine. You spend so long locked in your room with the lights off, Jaehyun tries sending you a nurse. You refuse the help stubbornly but politely. The next time he sees you is when you feel well enough to join him for dinner. 

“I hope you’re feeling better.” He says as Vina brings out plates with your meals. 

“I am, thank you Jaehyun.” You take a bite of your food. 

“Was it remembering that day that caused it?” 

You nod. “I’ve never been able to recall that much before.” The statement sounds sad to Jaehyun, and yet, you say it happily. “The pain of the headache was worth how good it felt to remember.”  

“Have you forgotten what you remembered?” Jaehyun asks, thinking back to when you said you usually forget again after. 

“Oddly enough, I have not.” You smile. Jaehyun feels a little hot; he thinks the fire must’ve grown in the hearth.   

“Jaehyun, do you know what Fortitude means?” Jaehyun shakes his head at your question as your dinner comes near an end. “I was told it meant courage.” You continue, clinking your fork against the plate.”And it feels like such a burden. To carry this responsibility. And to carry this name.” 

Jaehyun stares at you. He watches the way your arms dangle by your side as if they would fall off at the drop of a hat. He watches how you keep your eyes on your now empty plate. He watches you keep a smile on your face despite the way your voice sounds so sad. 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” 

“That’s alright Jaehyun.” The corner of your lip quirks. “Sometimes it’s more important to be heard than to be understood.” 

You stand up and excuse yourself from dinner. Jaehyun watches you go. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

When Younghoon finally returns to Jaehyun’s estate, it feels like he’s been gone for an eternity. You’re out in the market with Vina when he comes riding down the street on horseback. You call his name until he turns towards you. You have to unwrap the scarp you have fitted around your head and face before he recognizes you. 

Later that day, you and Younghoon ride on horseback through a forest trail. You wonder aloud why he isn’t tired after sitting on a saddle for the better part of the day. He shrugs and says something about not minding the pain of riding in exchange for the scenery. 

“Actually, I also wanted to talk to you about something.” You can hear the concern in Younghoon’s voice. You sit up on your horse. “Jaehyun’s father’s death anniversary is approaching.”

Oh. 

“He tends to get very…” Younghoon trails off, scratching the stubble growing on his chin. “He just isn’t himself during this part of the year. I thought you might appreciate a warning.” 

“Thank you, Younghoon.” You wait a beat. “Are you taking care of yourself?” 

“How do you mean?” 

“I heard you were close to Jaehyun’s father.”

“Oh,” he chuckles darkly, “I’ll be fine. It’s Jaehyun I worry about.” 

“And who’s here to worry about you?” 

Younghoon sighs. “Thank you for the concern.” 

***

The day of the anniversary itself, Younghoon spends the entire day in his room and Jaehyun disappears somewhere on the beach, only returning to the estate to ready himself for the temple service that night. You think that the whole estate, not just the residents, but the walls, the stone, the furniture, the rugs; the whole estate seems to be in mourning. You find yourself wanting to mourn too. 

There’s a knock on your door later that day while you’re reading a Risal from Roen. 

“Come in.” 

“Lady Gift, it’s time for the memorial service.” 

You hum. “Give my peace to Lord Jaehyun and Captain Younghoon.” 

“Uh, no, Lady Gift.” Vina shifts her weight. You look over to where she stands by the door. “It’s time for you to get dressed for the service.” You stare at Vina. “Lord Jaehyun requested that you attend the service as well.” 

“Oh,” you’re taken aback. You hadn’t realized you were wanted. 

You come down dressed in the traditional red color worn during burials and memorials. You do your best to find a red scarf to match. You meet Jaehyun downstairs, and he tells you that you’re still waiting for Younghoon. 

You chew on your bottom lip, unsure and timid. Suddenly the clothes feel itchy on your skin. “Jaehyun, are you sure you want me to come?”

Jaehyun looks confused. “Why shouldn’t you” 

“I mean I… I never really knew him.”     

Jaehyun pouts. “There's a dock on the east side of the beach my father used to take me to. I went there today. While I was there, I was thinking about the service tonight, and I found myself thinking about you.” You swallow. “I thought about all that you shared with me the other day and about all the death you’ve seen. It’s probably better that you never knew my father. You have enough fires to light and people to mourn as it is. Remember one of them instead.”

Younghoon appears then before you can say anything back, and you all, including Vina, head to the temple in a solemn silence. 

The temple is a sea of red. Younghoon whispers to you that Jaehyun’s father was loved by the people. You think that loved is an understatement; nearly the entire town has come out for the memorial service. 

You watch the fire rage. It was tradition to light fires for the dead. Years ago, fires were only lit 30 days after the death itself, but somewhere along the line, it had been normalized to light fires on the death anniversaries as well. The fire the temple has lit tonight burns bright and tall, as tall as the temple itself. The air around the temple is more smoke and flames than oxygen. You almost feel as if you’re suffocating, not from the smoke, but from the strife of an entire town which burns in the fire and contaminates the air. You choke on the sadness saturating your lungs and lingering in your veins. Your heart empties in tune with the mourning of the people for their beloved Lord. 

You inhale. 

You watch as Jaehyun and Younghoon throw burning logs into the flames. Soon after, others follow, throwing their own burning logs into the growing fire. You have to take a step back from the flame. Or rather Vina pulls you back muttering something about how the flying embers are dangerous. But you could care less. All you can manage to do is stare at the service unfolding before you, stunned. You have never seen a memorial service quite like this one. At the palace, the services were kept small and formal, limited to few guests and even smaller fires. But here, in these southern lands that you’re coming to love, even little children throw in twigs picked up from the nearby forest. The entire town throws in something. The entire town gets to remember the lost soul. You think that in some twisted way, it's beautiful. It’s beautiful how no one is left to mourn alone. 

You listen in on a group nearby, enough to hear that the group is sharing memories and stories of Jaehyun’s father. The group erupts in laughter. It seems out of place almost, such loud laughter in the midst of a memorial service, but when you look around the crowd you see a similar image in every corner. The people laugh and smile. They remember with joy. You recall that day on Angel’s Peak with Jaehyun and how good it felt to recall a part of your past. You think this must be like that. Loss was painful, but forgetting was worse. And through remembering, these people have made their pain their own to mend, bend, and break. 

It dawns on you then that the people are throwing in the love they can’t give as much as they’re throwing in their sadness for the loss. You learn that the fire before you doesn’t just rage, but that it cries and laughs as well. You learn that the wild warmth is more than just a fire; it’s an image of their love and loss. 

Jaehyun appears beside you then. He doesn’t look as happy as the others, but he looks less sad than he did before. He hands you a log and lights it with a match. You watch the fire eat up the wood in your hand before throwing it into the orange flames. Normally, only direct family members are allowed to throw things in the fire. So when Jaehyun hands you the log to throw, it’s actually the first time you've ever been allowed to do so. 

The last memorial you attended was for the princes’ mother, Roe. It was also the last time their father, the King, looked human to you. 30 days after her death a fire was lit by the palace temple. Orindell had just been born, still only an infant held in his father's arms. Peter and Roen were young as well, and the two boys clung to their father’s legs crying more out of confusion than anything else. You watched it all happen from a corner. You watched as the four boys, the King and his sons, weeped for their lost love. You watched as they threw in burning logs. And you watched it all behind a blur of your own tears. 

Before Roe, the last funeral you can remember attending was Avi’s, the young king who understood your grief and more importantly your guilt. But unlike the princes’ mother, who left an entire family behind, Avi had no living relatives. At his funeral, not a single log was thrown. For so long it had been you and Avi against the world, so when Avi died, it left you feeling inexplicably alone. 

You had burned a fire for Avi, and you had burned a fire Roe. But you never even lit a match for Sunwoo; and worse than that, you never bothered to mourn the loss of your mother and father. 

Jaehyun was right. You have plenty of fires to burn and logs to throw. So when a child passes by with a wagon of sticks in tow, you don’t hesitate to grab a handful. You throw one in for the Roe, the friend that made you feel human again. You throw one in for Avi, the tortured teen who understood. You throw a stick for Sunwoo who you sacrificed everything for. You throw two in for your mother and father who you lost long before their hearts stopped beating. You throw in several for the other Sins and Gifts who created that pointless war and left you lost in your own immortal soul. You throw in the rest for Lord Seth and all the lives that have been taken by your hands. You throw your regret into the fire and mourn. 

You forget Jaehyun’s next to you, until he puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. You lean into his touch, and the two of you mourn together.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You spend another sleepless night in bed thinking of Peter, thinking of the King, thinking of this kingdom. And when sunlight peaks from behind your curtains, you decide you’re tired of waiting. You send a hopeful Risal to Prince Peter. 

The Risal returns while you’re shooting arrows alone. When Younghoon came back and learned how you were using plates as targets and Jaehyun as a stand, he had crafted targets hanging from the tree branches for you to use instead. You were thankful for Younghoon’s generosity, but now, as you notch another arrow through your bowstring, you feel Jaehyun’s absence like a gaping hole, you feel it greatly. 

The arrow hits the wooden target with a sharp thud. 

It’s while you’re pulling the arrows from the target and placing them back in your quiver that you hear the Risal’s screech. You hold your arm out and wait for the bird to swoop down. 

No message, you think when the Risal comes back empty. You aren’t surprised that Peter received your message but didn’t bother to send one back. You have been sending the eldest Prince Risals since he departed from the Golden Palace at the start of spring, and every single one of your Risals came back with no reply. So no, you aren’t surprised, but that doesn’t stop the way your shoulders sag and your lips dip in a repetitive, dull dissapointment. 

You spend the rest of the day drowning in your own worries. 

And when your thoughts somehow travel to Younghoon’s handcrafted hanging targets. And to Jaehyun and how he opened up his home to you, and how he listens. You decide it’s time to tell Captain Younghoon and Lord Jaehyun the truth; the truth you owe them. 

“Did Peter respond to your Risal?” Jaehyun asks at dinner that night. You answer his questions with a tired sigh and a small no. 

You recognize that it’s time to repay their kindness with honesty. So when Jaehyun and Younghoon share a look and ask you timidly why exactly Prince Peter was sent away to begin with, you know. This is your chance. So you take it by the neck and run. 

You recall to Jaehyun and Younghoon the day things started changing within the Golden Palace. The day Peter came to you sad and betrayed and alone. 

“This isn’t right,” Peter muttered to you on that cold winter day. He sat in your sitting room, his hands holding up his head from falling off his shoulders altogether. You took a long sip of your tea. This was no surprise to you. From the day Peter had turned old enough to understand the workings of this kingdom and sit in on council meetings, he had been meeting with you like this. Letting you in on his doubts about the policies being put in order. About this kingdom. Doubts about his place as a Prince and other ones about his own father. Eventually, Roen joined these meetings. Then Orindell did too. It had become custom, for the four of them, a Gift of the Spirit and three Princes, to sit in your sitting room, to talk about and worry for your kingdom, that was slipping into disorder and that you all loved so much.

On that cold winter day, however, only Peter sat with you. Roen was on a northern campaign, and Orindell travelled with the Knights of the Holy Order leading his knights as their Commander, and all too young for the responsibility and the role. But an amazing Commander nonetheless. 

“He can’t do this,” Peter had groaned, “and I’m not sure how much longer I can sit by and watch.” 

You halted, your teacup moments away from reaching your lips. You set it back down. 

“Prince Peter, what are you suggesting?” 

He huffed and shook his head. You had thought he looked wild and angry and unhinged. “He’s set himself on a course to drive this kingdom into the dirt. Father hasn’t been himself for some time now. Something is wrong. Something that we can’t see. And the longer we wait, the worse he’ll get.”

“Peter,” you said again, the name sounding like a plea. 

“He is no longer fit to be king!” Peter slammed his hand down on the table. 

You clicked your tongue, unaffected by Peter’s sudden outburst. “So it’s a coup you’re suggesting then?” 

He sighed. “I’ve already decided. He has to be stopped.” He paused, looking at you with eyes that reminded you of the days he and his brothers would run around the palace courtyard. Your heart ached at the memory. “I want you to help me. But I’ll do this without your help too.”

And so you started planning Peter’s eventual overthrow of the King and of his father. 

“We kept it a secret, Peter and I,” you continue. Jaehyun and Younghoon listen silently but intently. “We didn’t even tell his brothers. The only other person we told was Juyeon. And while we plotted against the King, I started remembering things. For some reason, being around Peter so much, helped me remember. The memories are broken and blurry, but in them I saw flashes of my past and found forgotten conversations with the King. He would speak with me privately quite often as a consultant of sorts. And it was in recovering those shared words, that things really started to change for Peter and me. Because in my memories, the King sounds as insane as the rebellious eastern Lords make him out to be. In one moment, he’s crying about how alone he feels in this world and how he longs to go home. And in the next, he’s asking me how he can talk to Angels. It was clear to Peter and I that his father wasn’t himself anymore. The King had gone mad. 

“We started hearing about his experiments at the start of summer. The King insisted that these experiments would allow him to talk to an Angel and that they’d make him less lonely. And you must understand, all of this was hard for Peter. It was difficult for him to watch his own father spiral into insanity. So when Peter got evidence of the King’s experiments, he took matters into his own hands. He openly defied his father, in front of the council, and so the King sent him away.

“They’re both so impulsive it’s almost laughable how the whole thing played out. But either way, the night before he left Peter came to me and told me how he wasn’t giving up. He told me that when he returned to the Golden Palace it’d be as the King. So I told him…” You trail off, searching for the best way to say this next part without making yourself sound as mad as the King. 

It’s Younghoon who asks, leaning off the edge of his seat like he can’t stand the suspense of it. “What did you tell Prince Peter?” 

“I told him to go to the Nomads’ Lands.” 

Jaehyun chokes on his water. 

You continue on with the story, unbothered. 

“Although the King was the one to send him away, I think he was also the saddest to watch Peter go. I know it must be hard to believe, but the King wasn’t always as crazy as he is now. He’s always been impulsive, yes, but he used to be strong, charming, kingly. And he was devastated by his son’s absence in their home. Ultimately, I think that’s what drove him over the edge. That’s what made him so desperate to stop feeling so alone. So desperate he injected Lord Seth with one of his experiments, and he made me watch. But I knew as well as the King that the experiment had gone wrong. Yet he insisted on it working. He was so desperate he convinced himself that if we just waited everything would work out. Lord Seth was locked in the palace prisons that night, and no one but the King and I knew.

“I told you,” you look at Jaehyun, “that I had my reasons. I didn’t want to kill him. I take no pleasure in murder. But the experiment had gone wrong, and Lord Seth was in pain. If you had heard the way he cried and screamed and the way it echoed throughout the prison walls and the way—” 

You break. No, you don’t just break. You shatter. It’s been so long since you’ve made yourself feel the shame of your crimes. But now looking straight into the eyes of the sins you’ve committed. You crack and break and shatter into a million pieces. Each of your infinite shards tainted with a cruel shade of guilt. 

Jaehyun reaches over and covers your hand that rests atop of the table with his own. And although he’s only touching one small part of you, you feel his warmth in every part of your soul.

And when he says, “You took him out of his misery. If I were half as brave as you, I’d do the same,” you feel as if he’s lending you his strength. 

He squeezes your hands once, then pulls away. You feel suddenly, foolishly cold. 

“So that’s why Peter was sent away,” you finish, looking up at Younghoon and Jaehyun. “And that’s why I was sent away too.” You feel tired and drained. Like you’ve fought off an entire army of men. Like you’ve been swimming against the current of the Zalazar River for years. You wonder helplessly and hopelessly why it’s so exhausting to remember yet so easy to forget. 

It’s Younghoon who speaks again at last. “Thank you Lady Gift for entrusting us with such sensitive information. I think you know as well as I do that it’s time you tell Prince Roen and Prince Orindell the truth too.” 

“Yes,” you mutter, already dreading the lengthy Risal you would have to write before bed, “I do.” 

“I’m still curious about one thing,” Jaehyun says with a hand under his chin, “why did you send Peter to the Nomads?”

Suddenly, you’re reminded of your last conversation with Juyeon, and how he held your face and begged you to remember and how your head hurt too much to see straight by the end of the night. Yet when Jaehyun asks the same question, his voice bouncing off the walls of your mind, an answer appears as clear as day and as white as snow. When Jaehyun asks, you know. 

“The Nomads weren’t always as they are now. They weren’t as hostile or private. That night, I remembered that the Nomads were known to be bridges between Humans and the Elders. I sent him to the Nomads’ Lands in the hopes that they’d share with him the knowledge of the Elders.” 

Jaehyun only nods. And you’re glad for the silence that emerges, because you need a moment to process what you’ve just said yourself. The Elders were known to be channels for the Gods to spout their wisdom and hear the prayers of the people. All historic scrolls and religious teachings were based on the knowledge of the Elders. Another purpose of the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts was to be a bridge between the Elders and the Humans similar to the way the Nomads were a bridge. Perhaps that’s another reason why this kingdom feels so lost. You never learned how to communicate with the Elders. Thanks to Avi and his act of arson, the kingdom has none of the previous teachings from the Elders, and thanks to you, the kingdom has no new ones. 

But still, knowing that doesn’t calm the questions that arise in your mind. What knowledge from the Elders could the Nomads possibly have that would make you send Peter to them? 

The dinner ends abruptly when Younghoon stands up exclaiming how he’s tired from all that he’s just learned and bids you goodnight. You and Jaehyun do the same soon after. 

You write to Roen that night. And in your Risal, you tell him everything. You tell him about Peter, the experiments, Lord Seth, his father, your memories, the Nomads, and more. In the last line you ask Roen to extend this information to Orindell as well. You seal the letter and climb into bed with aching fingers. 

The response from Roen comes a few days later. 

Dear Fortitude, I didn’t know about Lord Seth. Thank you for doing what you did. Not even he deserved to be kept alive in pain and hurting. But everything else, Orindell and I, we already knew. Peter told us everything the night before he left. But thank you nonetheless. -Roen 

That sounds right to you. Those three boys, those brothers, they were like that. At each other’s throats one day and hugging each other the next. Chasing Orindell around the palace grounds. Playing pranks on Peter. And setting silly traps for Roen. Tackling each other to the ground and then spilling all their secrets. They’re each other's best friend as much as they’re brothers. It was only natural Peter told them the truth. And you’re glad he did. 

You sleep wonderfully that night

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun hopes you never learn how to braid your own hair.  Your hair was so soft and it smelled nice too. Jaehyun took some sort of pleasure in being the one to braid your hair back every time the wind was too strong and you forgot a hair tie which happened more often than not. 

“It must be hard,” you say as Jaehyun sections your hair into three parts, “for Younghoon to spend so much time away from his family.” 

His hand lingers by the nape of your neck. 

“Yes, it must.” 

The next day Jaehyun tells Younghoon to go back home. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Younghoon laughs, although the laugh sounds hesitant and it sounds lonely. 

“Go home, Younghoon.” Jaehyun insists. “Paid leave.” 

Younghoon packs up his things that very night. 

***

You have been quiet for some time now. Not just quiet in sound, but also quiet in the way you walk and eat. You silently send Risals back and forth with Roen, and then quietly accept the lack of response from Peter. You quietly begin taking more walks and then silently start taking them alone. You have been quiet since Younghoon left, but looking back, it appears that this quiet has been looming in the air for some time now. It’s been teetering up behind Jaehyun, taunting him back and forth since the night you told him and Younghoon everything. Jaehyun isn’t so sure what to make of it. But he does know that he misses you even though you spend every second under the same roof. 

He hates the quiet. 

“Lord Jaehyun! Come quick!” Vina screams from somewhere in the estate. Jaehyun bolts out of his room and finds her running towards him in the halls. “It’s Lady Gift,” she says breathless, eyes wide with worry and fear, “I think she plans to jump.” 

Jaehyun runs. 

He runs past Vina, out of the estate, onto the grassy path, towards the beach, and then westward. He runs and runs and runs. 

And there you are. Standing on top of Angel’s Peak, ready to jump. Silently. Jaehyun’s heart stops. 

“Don’t try to stop me!” You yell at Jaehyun and Vina watching you frozen in the sand. “I’ll jump, and I’ll survive.” 

“Lady Gift!” Vina yells back. “You’ll die. Come down. It’s not—“ 

Jaehyun puts a hand on Vina’s shoulder. Asking, pleading her to stop. 

“Lady Gift,” he doesn’t yell or scream, and yet he speaks loud enough for you to hear over the wind and waves. Jaehyun surprises himself with how calm his voice sounds. “Do you know how to swim?” 

You falter, grasping your sleeves as if they hold the answer.

“I might.” You finally respond. 

Jaehyun sighs. “I won’t try to stop you.” You look surprised. “But just wait a moment before you jump.” 

He starts pulling off his shoes, and then also his shirt. He can feel Vina stiffen beside him. 

“Lord Jaehyun, what are you doing?” Vina asks frantically. 

“I just wanna make sure the water’s safe,” he says before diving into the ocean. 

The water is cold. But he pushes himself through the water, swimming to the base of Angel’s Peak and feeling the strength of the sea with each movement of his arms. The waves are loud and crashing, but they aren’t strong. 

“Jaehyun!” He hears you scream from the cliff above. It sounds like you’re asking him to stop. He does not. 

He reaches the base of the cliff, his body now acclimated to the cold temperature of the water. He dives under the water and looks for something, anything that could hit you in your fall. The water is empty and clear. 

“The water is safe.” He calls back up swimming to a safer spot, away from where you will fall. “Run and jump, or you won’t make it past the ledge.” 

You nod looking up past the horizon, eyes closed. 

“And remember,” you open one eye to look down on him, “feet first.” 

You smirk. Then disappear from Jaehyun’s view. You run up to the edge. And jump. 

Except that you don’t just jump. You fling your body off the cliff. You fling your entire lifespan into the sky. And you fall. 

Jaehyun swears that time stops when you do. As if you aren’t falling but descending. As if the air is holding you up by the arms. You drop from the sky as if you’ve been preparing to do so your entire life. As if every second, minute, day, and year has amounted to this jump, this dive. And you fall and fall and fall. For longer than is humanly possible. Feet first, like Jaehyun had said. But you don’t crash into the water. No, the waves rise up to meet you. As if the sea has been waiting for you since forever. You disappear into the ocean. Jaehyun watches. Amazed. 

It’s when Vina screams his name that he’s pulled out of his trance. It’s then he realizes that you have yet to re-emerge from under the water. 

He panics. Fear coursing, shooting through him. He sucks in a breath. 

And dives. 

He lets the current take him to you. And there you are. Submerged in the water between the tides. Your eyes closed. Alive but unconscious. Alive but not fighting. He had asked you once what it took to kill you, and you had answered: giving up. And Jaehyun thinks that this must be it. Your body floating, sinking, falling in the water. This must be what it meant to give up. 

But Jaehyun isn’t going to let you give up so easily. He grabs you in his arms and throws back the water until you’re both above the surface. He fights and swims like he’s never done before. He rips through the current with a frightening amount of adrenaline. Vina pulls you both out of the water. And Jaehyun bangs at your chest and blows life into your lungs until you are choking and breathing and alive. Jaehyun falls into the sand beside you. 

“I’ll go get towels, and clean clothes.” Vina says scurrying away in the sand. 

Jaehyun and you lay side by side, wet hair and clothes sticking to your bodies. Exhausted. 

“It looked like you were dying,” Jaehyun mumbles the moment he can spare enough breath to do so, “there, under the water.” He turns his head. “Were you trying to?” 

“I don’t want to die, Jaehyun.” Your voice comes out as breathless as his.

“Did you want to feel like you’re dying?” 

You shake your head. 

“Then what?” 

“I wanted to feel mortal.” 

He looks away from you, and they watch the clouds in a shattering silence.

“I want to do it again.” 

Jaehyun laughs, amused by your desire to fling yourself off cliffs. “Oh I beg you, at least learn how to swim first.” 

You look at him then. Forehead creased and utterly confused. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

And later that night in the darkness of your bedroom and comfort of your covers. You think and overthink and think again how Jaehyun didn’t try to stop you. How he let you jump and made sure the water was safe. How he carried you back to shore. And how unbelievably good it felt to be in his arms. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

The quiet is gone. It’s like you jumped off Angel’s Peak and dropped the silence in the water. Jaehyun is glad because, above all things, the quiet made him worry. 

You only wait a day before you’re asking Jaehyun to teach you how to swim. And when you do, excitement gushing from your voice, it’s obvious he doesn’t have much of a choice. Not that it matters, Jaehyun would have agreed to teach you regardless, his choice or not. 

Jaehyun’s father taught him how to swim. He taught him how to paddle and tread the water. He taught him about the currents, the waves, the seaweed, and the fish. 

Jaehyun extends everything he knows to you. 

You struggle at first. Even with the little things, like not losing your balance against the waves and floating in the water. But you’re stubborn. You struggle and fight with the sea until it’s bowing at your feet. By the end of the first week, you glide through the water and body surf the waves as if you’ve been doing it for years. And two days after that, you swim even better than Jaehyun. You race him to the rocks and back. You win everytime. Though Jaehyun takes pride in the way he doesn’t end far behind. Jaehyun also takes pride in how he was the one to teach you, and how good you’ve become in such little time. 

You smile at him, ducking your head under the water, and Jaehyun feels an unreal sort of elation. It’s then that he takes his pride and shoves it into the ocean. 

***

“I lied,” you confess the night you both can’t sleep and meet for the second time at the rocks. Jaehyun immediately assumes the worst, his mind racing with possibilities. “A while ago, Younghoon asked me if I would fight him. I told him I don’t like to fight anymore. But it was a lie. I do.” 

He exhales, so relieved it comes out as a laugh. “Next time don’t make it sound so grave.” 

You shove his propped knee, and he topples over dramatically. You snicker at the display. 

When you continue, your voice is tainted with an odd shade of guilt. “And I don’t just like fighting. I enjoy it too.” 

Jaehyun smiles a bit. “How so?” 

You hesitate, looking at Jaehyun like he holds the answer in his palms, but frown when you notice his smile. “Why are you smiling?” 

He shrugs. “It’s nice to hear you talking again.” 

“Oh.” You look down at your feet. Jaehyun feels suddenly warm. 

He shakes the feeling. “You say you like fighting as if it’s a bad thing.” 

“Is it?” 

Jaehyun expects it to be rhetorical, but you meet his eyes sincerely. Jaehyun realizes, in what feels like a moment too late, that you genuinely don't know. “It doesn’t have to be.” 

“I suppose.” You tap your foot against the rock. The beat feels familiar to Jaehyun. 

“So then,” he says when the tapping comes to stop, “why don’t you fight?” 

You bring your knees impossibly closer to your chest. “After Avi died, I felt so lost. He was the last person to know me for me. And so, after a fire was lit in his memorial, I left the Golden Palace and I…” 

You stop there as if the story has come to a sudden end. 

This time the tapping comes from Jaehyun’s foot. “Is it the fog again?” 

“No.” You tell him confidently. “I can’t remember well. But it’s not because of some fog. It’s like my memories of those years have been blacked out. Erased from my mind. By choice.” Jaehyun watches the way you unsurely picks at your nails and the way your hair billows in the wind. “All I know is that after Avi died, I was so angry. At the world. At myself. I went on a rampage. I was in this state of so much pain and hurt and loss that nothing mattered anymore. I didn’t care who I hurt along the way, and only the Gods know how many I must’ve hurt.”

Jaehyun listens. He lets your words travel and touch every part of his body and soul until he feels the pain and anger himself. Until he wants to sob at the tear that rolls down the side of your face. 

“I remember the fire that was lit for Avi, and then I remember running from the Golden Palace. After that, it's all black and blur. But then one day I woke up and the anger was gone. Like it had dissolved overnight. The next week I met Roe.”

You pause, and in the silence Jaehyun yearns to take the years you spent in suffering and carry them in his arms. He wants to hide the years you spent angry and alone in the pockets of his largest coat. 

“I’m scared, Jaehyun.” You whisper, voice wavering in the salty wind. “I’m scared that if I let myself fight again, I won’t come back from it. How can I carry the name Fortitude when I don’t even have enough courage to face myself?”

The words hit him like a punch to gut. He recoils under the weight. A gust of wind blows then, pushing and pulling the hairs that have escaped from your braid. He wants to reach his hand out and tuck the hair away. He only realizes a second after that he hasn’t swallowed down the impulse fast enough. He’s surprised to see you soften the teeniest bit when his fingers graze your forehead. He feels suddenly, impossibly weightless.

“You aren’t the person you were then.” He says. “You’ve learned. You’ve grown. But the biggest difference is that now you aren’t alone.” You let out a breath as if you’ve been holding it for years. For all Jaehyun knows, that might be the truth. He continues. “The day you jumped off Angel’s Peak, you fell into the water and you sank. For the smallest of seconds, I lost you between the waves. But I found you and pulled you to shore.” He pauses, reminded of the terror he felt for the second that you were gone. “What I mean is that if you lose yourself in the waves of a fight, you have people to pull you out from the riptide. You have me, Younghoon, Juyeon, Peter, Roen, Orindell; hell even Vina would pull you out if she had the chance.” You manage a small, sad laugh, and the sound of it alone fills Jaehyun with an indescribable warmth. “You're not alone anymore. Even if you do get lost, you’ll find a way back, with or without our help. If you want to fight, fight. You have nothing to be scared of. Not anymore.”

You lay back suddenly, arms extended above your head and eyes closed. You smile. Like you’re free. As if you’ve been granted freedom from the ropes tied by your own doing. You yawn. 

“Oh how happy Younghoon will be to hear all this.” 

Jaehyun chuckles. “He’ll be jumping at the chance to spar with you.” 

You stand up and say, “thank you for listening,” before walking away. 

“And Jaehyun,” you stop, your back still facing him, “it feels nice to talk with you again too.” 

Jaehyun is the Zalazar River in the fall. Bright red and burning. 

***

Jaehyun floats on his back in the waveless water watching you above him who’s grown to love cliff jumping from Angel’s Peak.

You jump like you did before except that this time you don’t fling your life into the water. You jump and fall from the sky. Then you sink and sink and sink. And emerge from the water, alive. 

“Are there any other cliffs?” You ask as you swim around each other. 

“What, are you bored of Angel’s Peak already?” 

“Perhaps.” 

Jaehyun laughs, and you splash him with water. He dives and chases you back to shore. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“Aren’t you close to Captain Juyeon?” Jaehyun wonders aloud when a Risal swoops down from the sky the day you and Jaehyun are sitting in the courtyard. 

“He’s like a brother to me.” You say while you send the bird away, keeping the letter sealed and in your lap. 

“Then, why haven’t you been exchanging Risals with him as well?” 

You scoff. “I wish I could, but he’s scared of the bird.” Jaehyun giggles, and it spreads like wildfire in the breeze.

“You must miss him.” He mutters, and you hum a yes, opening the letter wordlessly. 

The letter you receive however is not the one you expect. And it certainly isn’t the letter you want. 

You read and then reread the letter from Orindell. It was an apology of sorts, though the words seem scattered and unsure. You huff, dropping the letter in your lap. Jaehyun notices but doesn’t say anything, focusing instead on that cat that’s climbed in his lap.

You think about Orindell, the boy who you’ve known his entire life, and how well he grew up. Orindell never let his brothers get the best of him despite being the youngest. Wherever they beat him in strength and size, he countered with wit and skill. It proved useful for Orindell; he was quick to take interest in matters of battle strategy and war efficiency. Orindell climbed the administrative ranks of the Knights of the Holy Order faster than anyone you had seen before, and in a blink of an eye, he became the youngest ever Commander of the Knights. You had felt swollen with pride for the youngest Prince. 

And maybe that’s why it hurt so much when he confessed to you in the winter. And yet here Orindell is, apologizing for pushing his love on you and for asking your hand in marriage. Here he is taking back his wrongdoings in writing. You sigh helplessly.  

“Is something wrong?” Jaehyun asks from across the table not taking his eyes off the cat still curled up in his lap. You slide the letter over to him. He reads it slowly. Then laughs. “I was not aware you carried Prince Orindell’s heart in your bags.” 

You narrow your eyes. “I. Do. Not.” You snatch the letter back. 

“I take it you don’t harbor similar feelings for Prince Orindell then?” The question sounds hopeful. 

“No, not at all.” You deny. “Orindell is like a child to me.” 

“He’s only a few years younger than myself.” Jaehyun says looking up, his eyes strangely dark. “Do you see me as a child too?” 

You flick the letter. “I’ve known Orindell since he was born. I watched him grow. He feels like family to me. But I met you at this age, so it doesn’t feel like you’re much younger than I am. It’s odd how age seems to work in my head. I know I’m older than you and Younghoon by ages, and yet I see you both as equals.” You take a sip of your drink. “Plus, Orindell still acts like a child.” Jaehyun smiles at that. 

“Oddly enough,” Jaehyun mumbles, bringing the full glass to his lips, “that makes sense.” 

You think back to the letter, and sense fondness in Orindell’s apology. Something in your mind clicks. 

“I was so mad at him,” You say to the air around you, “at Orindell. For months. I wanted him to tell me he never felt that way, that he fooled himself into something deeper than a platonic love. But I realize now that he can’t take it back even if he wanted to. Orindell can’t help how he feels.” You look up and find Jaehyun watching you. “He’s apologized for what he can. But he can’t apologize for falling in love.”

Jaehyun smiles sweetly. The kind of smile that makes your heart numb. “Oh Fortitude, I could’ve told you that months ago.” 

“I fear,” you begin, leaning forward in your seat, “that in rejecting Orindell, I’ll lose him as well.”

Jaehyun points to the letter. “He’s apologized. He doesn’t want to lose you either.” 

You repeat it in your mind. 

He doesn’t want to lose you either. 

It makes you feel suddenly, inexplicably upset and confused. Why is it so easy to love yet so hard to accept? How can love be so strong but still fleeting like everything else? You know Orindell’s feelings for you will pass, and yet knowing it doesn’t make you feel much better. Love waxes and wanes like the phases of the moon, but does it ever fade? You think of how Orindell feels towards you. How you have felt towards others in the past. And today sitting in the courtyard, the picture your shoved down feelings create finally starts to make sense. You find the image to be startling but unsurprising all the same. Finally, you understand the pain of poets, the pain Orindell must feel, and the pain you once felt yourself. 

Love is a burden. A burden you’re only now learning how to accept. 

You want to welcome the warm weight with open arms. 

***

That night you send a Risal to the Golden Palace addressed for Prince Orindell. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun sorts through his papers and files through responsibilities mindlessly on the day a letter for him comes. He pushes it to the side of his mind when you come into his office sputtering something about the latest news from the Golden Palace and how things have been so much better between you and Prince Orindell. 

He waits a moment once you’ve finished. “Do you remember me telling you about my sister, Insia?” You nod at his question, falling into the armchair near him. “Well, I just got this from her.” Jaehyun holds up the letter. “It’s her son’s birthday, and they’ve invited me to celebrate.” 

“Oh how sweet!” You gush, although your voice sounds a bit higher than normal. You pull at your sleeves. “How long will you be gone?” 

“Actually,” Jaehyun hesitates, his next question teetering on the tip of his tongue, “I was wondering if you’d like to come as well?” 

***

The boat ride to the island Insia lives on is pleasant. Jaehyun humors you with stories of his childhood and of Insia, and you listen to Jaehyun talk as if your life depends on it. When they dock, Jaehyun drags you to a bakery to buy candy and sweets for Insia’s children and then some more for yourselves. 

By late afternoon they reach Insia and her husband Cyrin’s house. Jaehyun always liked their house. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was comfortable and somehow perfect. They lived right on the beach. The back door leading to a sandy shore and sparkling blue waters. 

“Hold on,” Jaehyun says abruptly, taking your hand in his, “before we go in, I want to show you something.” 

He leads you around the house and beyond the white fence that separates the streets from the beach. You take off your shoes before proceeding in the sand. It takes one more turn and another second of walking on your already aching feet before it’s visible. 

The sea. 

The water that surrounds the island is bluer and clearer than the waters back home. The waves shine in the last bit of the light from the setting sun. Jaehyun feels at home despite being hours away from it. 

He looks over at you. And you smile so brightly the sun seems to dim in that moment. The awe in your eyes and lightness in your sigh reminds Jaehyun of the first time he took you to see the sea. He’s reminded of how his chest wanted to burst at the sight of your smile. He finds himself in a similar predicament today, except that now the bursting chest was something he had grown quite used to. It was something he had grown to adore. Jaehyun loved the sea. But looking at you and the wonder in each one of your bones, he thinks you might love it more. 

“Uncle Jaehyun!” A voice yells from behind them. Jaehyun whips around only to be tackled by the weight of a 7 year old clinging onto his body and legs. A second later he’s tackled by another child. He pulls them both into his arms and smothers them with as much love as he can fit into a hug. 

You kneel down in the sand, and introduce yourself to the children. “You must be Elia.” You say to the older girl who’s detached herself from Jaehyun. Elia nods enthusiastically. “And you,” you point to the younger boy, shyly hiding behind Jaehyun’s legs, “must be the birthday boy.” 

“That’s my brother Herschel, and he’s turning five years old tomorrow.” Elia jumps in before Herschel can answer. Jaehyun plops down himself and the children follow. The four of you sitting in a circle in the warm sand. 

“Or so I’ve heard.” you say, pulling the box of sweets from a bag. “Well, to celebrate your Uncle Jaehyun and I brought you some sweets—“

The children pounce on the box before you can finish. Jaehyun clutches his stomach in laughter. 

“Jaehyun!” Insia yells from the back deck of her home. Although the yell sounds more like she’s about to nag him instead of welcoming her only brother to her home. “Those sweets will rot their teeth!” 

“You’re torturing them Insia!” He yells back, getting up from the sand to greet his sister. “Children need sweets.” 

Insia scrunches her nose. “You spoil them too much.” She says before pulling Jaehyun into a hug.

Jaehyun leads Insia to where you and the children sit in the sand, and asks about the whereabouts of his youngest niece, Devi, who is still less than a year old. Insia resposds that she’s napping and that Cyrin’s watching her. 

You stand up to greet Insia. 

“Lady Gift, it’s such an honor that you’ve come to visit. We’re humbled to have you stay in our home.” 

“Oh please, no. I’m the one who’s humbled that you’ve opened up your home to me. And please call me Fortitude. I despise formalities.” 

“Well, in that case,” Insia coos, looping her arm with yours, “please come inside. Jaehyun’s told me so much about you. I think we’ll get along wonderfully this weekend.” 

***

Insia, like always, is right. You and her get along wonderfully. After the kids are put to bed, you and Insia begin talking in the sitting area, and in the span of your conversation, Jaehyun and Cyrin are able to finish not one but two card games at the kitchen table. Cyrin puts up the cards while Jaehyun watches you and Insia converse. He finds it almost surprising that the two of you still have something to talk about considering how different you both are. But the surprise is a pleasant one, for Jaehyun takes much pleasure in watching two people he cares for so deeply talk and laugh together comfortably. 

“Jaehyun, you must stay here longer.” Cyrin insists. “If not for the whole weekend, then at least for the day after Herschel’s party.” 

Jaehyun hesitates. “I don’t know. Younghoon is already coming back the day before we’re supposed to, and I’d hate to make him wait for us longer than he already will be.” 

“Oh please,” Insia dismisses, you and her approaching the table, “Younghoon sees you everyday; he’ll be fine. I barely see you anymore, especially after Devi was born. The least you could do is give me the pleasure of celebrating your birthday with you.” 

“Your birthday?” You mutter from your side of the table. You meet Jaehyun’s eyes. “Forgive me Jaehyun. I had no idea.” Jaehyun dismisses the apology.                     

Cyrin and Insia share a look. The kind of look that only couples who know each other in and out could share. The kind of look that holds entire conversations in one glance. They share another look after that too. Insia scoffs, turning dramatically to you. 

“Would you mind humouring Cyrin with an arm wrestle? He wants to see how well he can hold up against a Gift of the Spirit.”

Jaehyun’s reminded of how a similar conversation between Younghoon and you went. Jaehyun inhales sharply, watching your reaction carefully. You surprise him by laughing. 

“I’m no joke.” Cyrin defends in response to your laughter. “There’s yet a person on this island to beat me.” 

You lean towards him. “Ah, but no person on this island is me.” You ready your arm up. Cyrin takes it eagerly. 

Jaehyun likes this. How you tease Cyrin. How you’re not afraid of your powers anymore. How you beam with confidence. 

“You do know who I am right?” You say, before the back of hand slams down on the table. Cyrin yelps in shock, and Insia hides snickers behind her hand while you laugh loudly and freely. You turn towards Jaehyun, and the two of you share a look of your own. 

And through the silent conversation, Jaehyun knows. Younghoon would have to wait a bit longer for your return. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

The next morning you send a Risal to Younghoon telling him that you and Jaehyun would be staying for the entire weekend. He responds with a simple tell Herschel and Jaehyun I said happy birthday. You do. 

Later that day, Insia requests you and Jaehyun to take the children outside while she prepares the house for the part that night. 

You pick up Devi and rock the child in your arms, following Jaehyun and the other two children out of the house, onto the back deck, and then to the beach. You carefully take a seat in the sand. 

You learned back when the Princes were young that you had an inexplicable knack with babies. So when Devi softens and presses herself against your body, it appears the knack has not yet been lost. You turn into mush when Devi stops crying, reaching for you. You give her a finger to hold onto and Devi takes it at once. 

You look away from the adorable baby cradled between your arms, and your eyes land on Jaehyun. Jaehyun plays with Elia and Herschel, really plays with them. Running and rolling around in the sand. Splashing them with water and pouting when the two siblings get mad at each other. You wonder for a moment what it would be like if this was your family. Married, with children, and living far away on this island. You wonder for a moment how it would feel to be normal and to be mortal. And the thought strikes you with an odd sort of sadness. One that grabs at your heart and shakes it until the blood is gone. One that makes your ribs disappear and your body feel hollow and numb. 

But then Jaehyun lifts Herschel onto his shoulders, and your sadness vanishes the second he does. He smiles at you. Giggles. Calls you twice with something you can’t quite place lingering on his tongue. 

Your chest starts to hum. He smiles at you again, and the humming grows and shifts into a song. A song that’s breathtakingly beautiful. One with chords so delightfully articulated that you don’t want to go a day without hearing them. You want your chest to hum and sing this song for the rest of your life.

Suddenly, Devi squeezes the fingers she’s been holding onto, and in that moment, while watching Jaehyun play with his sister’s children and while carrying Jaehyun’s niece in your own two arms, you feel impossibly, shatteringly happy. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

The birthday party had been a smash, with children appearing from every crevice of the house and cake smothered on Herschel’s face. Insia and Cyrin seemed happy with it. You seemed happy with it. The children seemed happy with it. And their happiness made Jaehyun happy as well. 

Tonight is another sleepless night for Jaehyun, but since he isn’t home with a familiar rock to sit on, he heads to a balcony in Insia’s home that overlooks the coast. He brings an extra coat; the balcony would be cold. Still, he shivers in the howling wind, letting the crashing waves ease his mind slowly and methodically. You join him at some point, and Jaehyun smiles when he hears the balcony door open. He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s you. His smile turns into a frown when he notices you dressed plainly, no scarf and no coat. 

“Are you immune to coldness then?”

You shiver, wrapping your arms around your torso. “Unfortunately, no.” 

“Here.” Jaehyun hands you the extra coat. 

You take it and stare at the cloth before wrapping it around your shoulders. “Do you always bring extra coats?” 

“No.” He leans against the wall. “But if you insist on not dressing properly, I suppose I’ll have to start.” 

You look down, smiling. You walk to the edge of the balcony and rest your elbows on the railing. The two of you are quiet together for some time. 

“I wish you told me earlier that your birthday is approaching, Jaehyun.” You say. “I could’ve prepared something for you.” 

He bites the inside of his cheek. “It hadn’t seemed important enough to bring up before.”

“Why wouldn’t it be important?”

“It’s just one day.” 

“It should still be celebrated.” You insist, sounding suddenly mad. As if Jaehyun not telling you was an insult. Jaehyun positions himself closer. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks as softly as possible. 

And at his words, your head drops, like you couldn’t bear to hold it up any longer. You cry silently, face hidden from Jaehyun by your own body, stammering over your own sniffles. He takes your hand in his and holds it to his heart. “Please,” he begs because the sight of you in so much silent pain hurts him more than he can admit, “tell me what’s happened.”

And so you do. You tell him how you’ve become rotten with jealousy for Insia and her perfect family. And how you want nothing more than to be normal. You tell Jaehyun how much you wish you could take back being the Gift of Fortitude. And with each word that leaves from your lips, Jaehyun comes to realize that what you tell him  now isn’t like anything you’ve told him before. What keeps you up tonight isn’t a forgotten memory or worry for someone else. No, tonight, you allow sleep to stay out of reach and let tears fall down the side of your cheek because of a wound that’s still fresh and bleeding and new. Tonight, your pain is not one Jaehyun can take away. No matter how badly he wants to. 

He stares at you, frozen. And Jaehyun thinks, not for the first time, about all the people you’ve lost. Sunwoo, Avi, your parents, Roe. He thinks about all the years behind your eyes, and all the scars in your mind. He thinks about how you’ve given everything you have to give, and how you gave it all from the heart. You sacrificed your entire life for this kingdom. And this sadness, this never-ending pain, you did not deserve. He stares at you, the Gift of Fortitude, and thinks about all that you’ve endured. 

Finally, he speaks. “A while ago, you told me that Fortitude meant courage, and that the name alone was such a burden. But later, with Younghoon, I looked up the meaning of Fortitude. It means more than just courage. It means to be brave and stand tall in the midst of pain. It means to endure. And oh, only the Gods know how much in this life you’ve endured.” 

Your voice breaks, and at last, your cries are no longer silent. He holds you close, and you shake, sobbing, under the arms he has around you. When he pulls away, he finds that he’s no longer looking at you, but instead the face of a God. Or rather, his God. And Jaehyun isn’t sure what to do or how to act because suddenly he sees his God in you. He says your name like a prayer. Like a religious verse spilling from his lips. 

And because he can’t think of anything more to say, he squeezes your hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss to each one of your knuckles. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You are a ball of flames. Hot and burning in hues of orange, red, and blue. The song in your chest from earlier erupts into a symphony. But it’s a sad and dramatic orchestra so you continue to weep and cry until the flames have been reduced to scorch marks on your knuckles. Jaehyun’s coat suddenly feels heavy on your shoulders. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun did it on instinct. He kissed your hand because in the moment it felt like the most natural thing to do. 

He doesn’t regret it.

He kisses it again. He lets his lips linger. And when Jaehyun lowers your hand back to his heart, he wonders if you can feel how wildly it beats and bangs from inside him.  

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You feel it. You feel the wildness of your own heart as well.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

You stand like that for so long. You crying. Jaehyun looking into the eyes of God. Your hand against Jaehyun’s restless heart. 

You stand like that until you rip your hand away. He lets it fall from his grip. “Leave me be Jaehyun.” You say, tears still fleeing down your face.

He takes a step back from. “You’ve endured enough. Please, don’t make yourself endure this unhappiness too.”   

With that, he bids you goodnight, leaving you alone on the balcony with nothing but yourself, the sea, and Jaehyun’s coat. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

That night is long and slow, but the sun welcomes you with a new day of warmth. A new day that also happens to be Jaehyun’s birthday. You do your best to ignore the sadness inside of you. A sadness caused by more than just your want for normalcy. You look down at the hand Jaehyun held in his the night before. You look at your scorched knuckles. You don’t want to look into it any further. 

It storms the entire day, so you spend Jaehyun’s birthday inside playing cards, playing chess, and playing with the children. Insia announces she’ll be preparing a feast for dinner. Jaehyun thanks her then smiles, and to you, it looks sad.

***

There’s a knock on the door while you’re preparing yourself for dinner. You open it to Insia who looks you up and down, shakes her head, and mutters a small ‘that won’t do’ before disappearing down the hall. She returns moments later with a collection of her own dresses and lays them out on your bed. 

“How about this?” Insia offers holding up a red dress. 

You look down at the blue dress you already put on. “What’s wrong with this one?” 

“Nothing, I just thought you might want to dress up tonight.” 

“And why would I want to do that?” 

“For Jaehyun.” Insia says it blandly. 

You feel like the wind’s been knocked out of you. “For Jaehyun?” You echo. 

“Nevermind then,” Insia sighs, as if she’s talking to a child who won’t cooperate. She puts the dress down, and comes over, taking your hands in hers. What is it with these siblings and holding your hands? And why does it hurt so much when they do? “I was only giving you options. This dress is lovely too. I’m sure Jaehyun will be delighted no matter which dress you come to dinner in.” Insia leaves, and you ponder why in the world it would matter to Jaehyun which dress you came down in? Then you wonder why Jaehyun should take any delight in your appearance? The questions bring back a familiar sadness. 

The bodice of the dress Insia brought is fitting, and the skirt was made to flow beautifully. It’s a newer style, one of the many fashion trends that went over your head. But it is indeed a pretty dress, so you change into it anyways. 

Insia was right. Jaehyun looks delighted when you do eventually come down. Even you can’t look past the way his eyes seem to sparkle. “You look stunning.” He tells you as you make your way over to the dining room. “How come you’ve never worn this dress before?” 

“It isn’t mine.” You confess. “Insia lent it to me for the night.” 

“Ah,” Jaehyun exhales, “that makes much more sense. I wouldn’t have thought this dress to fit your style.” Jaehyun takes his seat, and you ponder yet again how Jaehyun has come acquainted with what is your style and what isn’t? 

The dinner is a feast like Insia had said, but still, you can’t bring yourself to enjoy it. Your mind feels heavy and restless. You desperately want to rid your brain of the thoughts that plague it, and so your eyes land mindlessly on Jaehyun. You watch the way he cares for his nieces and nephews and the way he listens when they talk. You watch him eat and the way he smiles and throws his head back in laughter. You watch and notice all these little things about Jaehyun and find that you care for each one of them. You care for them deeply. It makes your heart feel as heavy as your head. You stand up abruptly and excuse yourself from dinner early, unable to continue silently suffering the pain of your heavy heart and heavy head. You don’t hear Jaehyun follow you out. 

It’s when you’re halfway up the stairs that he catches up. 

“Please, Jaehyun. Go back.” You continue, not looking back. 

“No. Tell me what’s happened.” 

You turn a corner, your room now near. “Don’t let me ruin your birthday. Go back to the dinner your sister prepared for you.” 

You push your door open, and Jaehyun follows you inside. “Please, just tell me if you’re alright.” Jaehyun asks you so softly, so sweetly, it makes you feel impossibly frustrated. You wish Jaehyun wasn’t so gentle with you. It made it impossible to ignore the way your heart warms whenever he is near. 

“Why do you care?” You ask hashly, gathering fistfulls of Insia’s red dress in your hands. 

“I’ve always cared.” He sounds hurt, like the words have cut him.

“No Jaehyun, why? Why do you care?” If your words before cut him, this was you digging your fingers into the wound. 

“I care…” he falters, searching for something in your face. You wish he didn’t look at you the way he does. “I care because I worry for you.” 

“Well,” you huff, “why do you worry then?” Your words come out as more of an accusation than a question, although you yourself aren’t sure what it’s an accusation of. 

Jaehyun searches your face again, and his eyes, his beautiful eyes, burn over every spot they touch. He must find what he’s looking for because in an instant his face, no, his entire body softens and he crumples into the chair behind him. Head bowed before you. 

“I’m sorry,” he utters, “I’m sorry. I can’t hide this any longer. I can’t help it. I—“

You cut him off, crying. “Oh, please Jaehyun, don’t say it please.” You beg because you aren’t sure if you can bear to hear him say it aloud. And because you can’t ignore the desperation in Jaehyun’s voice. 

“I won’t hide it from you. I can’t hide it, not anymore, not now that you know because I do. I love you. And I’ve loved you for so long now.” 

You aren’t sure what makes you do it. Perhaps it’s the sadness in his voice or the love on his tongue. Perhaps you go towards Jaehyun because of your own will. But no matter the reason, you stand near where he sits and brushes the hair away from his eyes. He grabs your hand when you do and holds it against his head, bowing before it. As if he wouldn’t be able to stand it if your hand was doing anything but touching his face. As if he is offering his entire self to you. And you hate how much comfort you take in this. In having the back of your palm pressed against Jaehyun’s head. But you do, you take comfort in this little action. In this little declaration of love. 

You fling your hand out of Jaehyun’s grip and stumble to your bed, which you fall onto, burying your face into the soft sheets, weeping. You weep because you don’t like love. And because love will always lead to loss. And because you’re tired of losing. You weep because you don’t want to lose Jaehyun. 

And suddenly, Jaehyun is standing next to you. You can sense that Jaehyun is crying too. He caresses your hair gently. 

“I don’t mean to push my love on you. I just can’t bear to hide it anymore. Because hiding it feels like a lie, and I don’t wish to lie to you.” He pauses, his hand lingering behind your ear. “Please, don’t push me away. The last thing I want is for things to change.” And you know Jaehyun is smarter than to think this won’t change anything. Love had a way of forging its own path in life. He continues. “I can’t bear to lose you. I can’t fathom a life where I lose you. I love you but I don’t expect you to love me too. I never will. Don’t push me away. Please.” He presses a silent kiss to your hair, and it only makes you weep harder. 

“Leave me be, Jaehyun.” You say for the second time this weekend. And it hurts to say as much as it did before, because in actuality the last thing you want is for Jaehyun to be anywhere but by your side. But you send him away regardless because when he is near, your heart beats too fast for your mind to think of anything but him and his smile and his laugh. Jaehyun shuts the door quietly. 

You think how unfair it is that you should take so much pleasure in the kisses he presses to your hands and hair. And pleasure in his company and in every single innocent touch. You think how unfair it is that Jaehyun must love you. You think it’s unfair and cruel and mean and wrong. You cry for the unfairness of the world, and then you cry yourself to sleep as well. 

*** 

You spend the next day, your last day on this island, in your room. They bring you meals, but you aren’t able to eat a single one. You spend the whole day in your head. 

It’s evening when you do eventually leave your room. You go straight to Jaehyun’s, and slip a letter under the door.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun spends most of the day on the beach, throwing his worries into the reef and watching them roll away with the waves. When he returns to his room, he finds a letter from you. His heart stops. 

Dear Jaehyun, Last night, you said that you couldn’t bear to lose me. That you couldn’t fathom a life where you lose me. But the thing is, love has always led to loss, and I will always be the one losing. Because one day, you’ll die and I won’t. I don’t have to fathom a life without you. I just have to wait for it. I’m tired of loving and losing. One day, I’ll lose you as a friend, don’t make me lose you as a lover too. -Fortitude

When he finishes reading the letter, his heart starts beating again. Except that it doesn’t beat, it breaks. He had been reckless with his words. He isn’t going to make that mistake again. He writes you a letter of his own. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE— Dear Fortitude, Forgive me. I was careless and stupid with my words, and I can’t pretend to understand your specific pain. You told me once, long ago, that you aren’t immortal. Which means your pain is not forever either.  But even then, you are not alone in loss. We all love. We all lose. Everyone is bound for that sadness, including me and you. We know that and yet still, we wear our hearts on our sleeves and fall in love again and again, over and over. Don’t let the pain of loss keep you from the joy of love. Please.  -Jaehyun

You find yourself thinking of the time after the death of Avi. The time where you lived without love. The period of time that you’ve blocked from memory. Perhaps, Jaehyun is right. Perhaps there is no life without love. And not just romantic love, but platonic love, familial love, and love in all its forms. The thought feels heavy in your mind. 

***

You’re walking through the halls of the house at night when you find Jaehyun. He’s on the same balcony as two nights ago, staring at the sea. You stand in the hall and watch him. 

You recall how strong the wind was that night and how Jaehyun had an extra coat. You remember how warm it felt to have something of his draped over your shoulders. And looking back, it seems so simple. It seems obvious that when Jaehyun gave you his coat, it was more than just a kind gesture. It was a declaration of his love. It hits you then, how many times Jaehyun has told you, or rather showed you his love. He showed you when he held your hand against his beating heart and when he pressed kisses to your knuckles. He said ‘I love you’ every single time he listened to you talk and all those days he spent teaching you how to swim. He showed you when he let you jump from Angel’s Peak, when he didn’t let you sink, and when he carried you back to the beach. He told you that he loved you when he gave you a burning log to throw in the fire at his father’s memorial. He told you that day he ran in the sand with you, like the child you never got to be, and he said it each time he braided your hair. And like a wave crashing over, you realize that Jaehyun has been declaring his love in a million different ways since the day he offered the sea as yours to take. Your heart carries each one of these confessions, each one of Jaehyun’s silent declarations, until it sinks and sinks and sinks within your own body. 

In all your years, through all your loss, you’ve grown to dislike romantic love. But looking at him now, you realize Jaehyun’s love for you is more than just romantic. His love for you is one of respect and admiration. His love for you is one of understanding. His love for you is pure. Purer than any love you have known before. You look at Jaehyun again, really look at Jaehyun. You look at the way the moonlight bounces off his skin and hair, and the way he rests his elbows over the railing. You look at the way he bends one knee. You look at Jaehyun and see more than you’ve ever seen in him before. You look at Jaehyun and see a God. But not just any God, you see your God. And you have no idea what to do. 

It’s while staring at his figure on the balcony that you realize you love Jaehyun too. It’s then that you realize you have been falling in love with the little things since the day he took you to see the sea. But oh, how the little things were everywhere and everything. 

And suddenly the realization is bursting through the balcony doors and into the arms of the man you love. The realization pours out from your eyes and heart. The realization spills from your lips and paints itself across the night sky. The realization is screaming, breaking itself free. In your head, you chant. I love you. I love you. I love you. Out loud, you say, “And you must know, I’ll love you for a very long time.”

And Jaehyun’s laughing, holding you in his arms, blissfully, as if there’s nothing that could have made him happier. As if there’s no place he'd rather be than right here with you on this balcony overlooking the sea. He laughs and then leans his forehead against yours. “I love you too, and you must know that right now, I want to kiss you quite terribly.”

And because he loves you. And because you love him. And because he made you laugh after a weekend spent crying, you tilt up your chin and close the distance. For a moment, everything fits perfectly, and you, once again, feel shatteringly happy. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun imagines the feeling fluttering in his chest that morning can only be described as bliss. But to him it is more. It’s more than blissful to wake up to you sleeping in his shirt on his bed tangled in his sheets and limbs. But alas, bliss would do for now. 

He takes his bliss and presses it to your shoulder then neck then jaw then cheek. He presses a number of blissful kisses to the infinite spots on your face he’s yet to kiss until you’re awake pushing at Jaehyun’s face.  

“I’m not ready to wake up,” you groan, turning your body flush against Jaehyun. 

“We’ll miss the boat back if we don’t get up soon.” He reminds, tracing mindless shapes against the curve of your hips. 

You sigh and bury your face deeper into his chest. “I’ve ruined our weekend haven’t I?” 

He pulls you impossibly closer. “You haven’t ruined anything.” 

***

The boat ride from the island back to the mainland is long and slow, and the entire time, Jaehyun is jumping in his seat, ready to return home. 

“You must miss him.” You mutter from next to him. Jaehyun doesn’t have to ask to know you’re talking about Younghoon. He nods, turning to you. 

“And how about you, what do you miss?” 

You look up at the sky, smiling. “I miss,” you tap on Jaehyun’s knee, “jumping from Angel’s Peak.” Jaehyun laughs, capturing the moment and capturing your hand in his.

When you do eventually dock, Jaehyun leads you away from the road home and towards the beach. He surprises himself with the gesture as much as he does you. By the time you reach the sand, you’re running. And you run and run and run. Past the estate. Whipping off your coats and shoes. Discarding your worries in the sand. Running. Wild. In love. You both run until you reach the rocks. And you’re climbing Angel’s Peak while Jaehyun’s diving, piercing his body into the water. You climb then run then jump, piercing the sea yourself moments later. And you both swim around each other ducking and diving in the water. 

Suddenly it’s a contest: who can hold their breath the longest. Jaehyun counts the seconds.  One. Two. (You kiss him) Three. Four. 

Five. (He kisses you) Six. 

You return to the estate finally, greeting Younghoon drenched and swollen with love. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

It’s the day after you and Jaehyun return from Insia and Cyrin’s home that you and Younghoon fight for the first time. In all honesty, you have been itching to fight with someone again ever since your talk with Jaehyun. And when you told Younghoon at dinner the night before, that you would be willing to fight him, he was itching to fight with you as well. 

For the first couple days, you start simple. A few rehearsed drills and fighting moves. Jaehyun usually watches, sitting in a corner of the courtyard with a book. And when you feel comfortable enough to do so, you advance to Younghoon attacking with jabs and punches here and there and you blocking them while also studying his technique. You learn that Younghoon is a good fighter, but his movements are choppy and slow as if he hasn’t fought in a while which in his defense, he hasn’t. You imagine Younghoon would be better equipped in a sword fight rather than the hand to hand combat you were drilling now. By the end of the first week, Younghoon gets restless, wanting to do more. You reluctantly agree. It’s fine at first, you focus mainly on deflecting his attacks and blocking his moves. When you sidestep from an attack, you see your chance and take it, punching Younghoon in the gut. You only realize after the fact that you’ve done it too hard. Nothing fatal, but a punch hard enough that if you had hit him an inch higher, his rib would’ve broken from the impact. You refuse to fight Younghoon for a while after that. When you do return to fighting, a whole week later back to the basic drills and blocking, you no longer allow Jaehyun to watch. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

The days that follow are some of the happiest for Jaehyun. Jaehyun and you spend whole days in each other's bedrooms and under the sheets. Younghoon catches on to the two of you almost immediately. Perhaps he caught on before you realized anything yourselves. 

The other days you spend walking along the shore or drinking tea in the courtyard. And on the days Jaehyun must do work in his office, Younghoon and you play chess in the corner. You continue to send Risals: to Roen and Orindell and another unanswered one to Peter. 

You and Younghoon continue training without Jaehyun in attendance. Once you get the hang of controlling the strength of your blows and kicks with an almost frightening amount of precision, you let Jaehyun return to his spot in the corner. And even Jaehyun, who knows nothing about fighting, is amazed by your skill. Skill that is far too good to be fighting with Younghoon, who looks ready to die from exhaustion after every single one of your fights. And yet, despite the way you barely break a sweat, you look unbelievably happy after each and every fight. 

Word gets out eventually, likely thanks to Vina’s gossiping, that the Gift of Fortitude has fighting shows in the courtyard of Lord Jaehyun’s estate. And soon enough, every afternoon a flock of young boys, guards, and locally stationed Knights arrive at the courtyard to watch you fight. You no longer mind the crowd. A few brave Knights and guards even try challenging you. You go especially easy for the sake of their bodies, but spare no care when it comes to attacking their egos. But still, even those fights make you happy. 

The happiest you look, however, is when Vina asks you to teach her something. You make Vina begin immediately. And as it turns out you’re a wonderful teacher, although when Jaehyun mentions this, you deny it telling Jaehyun it’s only because you taught Juyeon and the Princes. Nonetheless, you teach Vina moves and tricks that would be useful to her like how to use the weight of her opponent against her and how to properly hold a knife and attack with it. It doesn’t take long for Jaehyun’s courtyard to be filled with young boys and girls alike all learning how to defend themselves and fight from you.

And every second that you aren’t teaching and Jaehyun isn’t working, you spend in the water, wading between the waves and floating on your backs. You jump from Angel’s Peak until you feel that you've outgrown it, beginning to search for higher cliffs in the horizon. You race each other from the docks to the rocks and hold numerous contests to see who can hold their breath for longer. You win everything every time, and Jaehyun has never been so happy. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You’re sitting in the courtyard alone playing with the stray cats, when you hear the Risal’s call signaling the return of the letter you sent to the Golden Palace and to Price Orindell. 

Dear Fortitude, I regret to inform you that father has been acting oddly again. Roen and I suspect that he might be preparing to try another ‘experiment’. Roen fears what’s to come if we don’t hear from Peter soon. I take it you haven’t heard from him yourself. I’ve begun to worry for Peter as you do. Do you think he’s okay? Father wants me to cut the pay for the Knights, but how does he expect me to keep an army loyal to this kingdom if we don’t pay them properly? Honestly, Fortitude, I worry for father too. I know he must be taken off the throne, but I worry for him beyond the crown. I worry for his health. He’s getting sicker by the days. It’s difficult to see one’s own father spiral into madness. I’m already saddened with thoughts of how all this will turn out. I’m afraid I’ve made this letter into a collection of my worries. Do you think I worry too much? I hope you’re taking care of yourself. In better news, Captain Juyeon and his squadron have been stationed near Lord Jaehyun’s estate by the Commander himself. Consider it a gift from me to you. He should be arriving in a day or two. And please, give Juyeon a punch for me. - Orindell 

You think a visit from Juyeon might be the first piece of good news you’ve received from the palace in weeks. You jump up and run back into the estate to tell Younghoon and Jaehyun. 

***

You’re in the kitchen with Vina eating fruit when Juyeon arrives. 

“He’s here.” Jaehyun tells you, popping his head in the kitchen.

You snap up and look at Jaehyun as if waiting for him to admit he’s joking. He only nods. 

So you grab his hand and run. 

The first thing you do when you see Juyeon is punch him, as hard as Orindell would. 

“Ow!” He yelps, then tilts his head, confused. “Did your punches get weaker?” 

You finally hug him, and exhale into his shoulder. “That punch was from Orindell.” You pull away from the embrace. “And this one,” you punch his other arm, much harder than before but not any harder than he’s already used to, “is from me.” 

He winces, clutching both arms. “You could’ve just said no.”

You smile. “But where’s the fun in that.”

Once Juyeon, Jaehyun, and Younghoon have all been properly introduced, the other two give you and Juyeon some time to catch up. You take him to the beach for a walk. 

“How long are you staying?” 

Juyeon sighs. “Not long. We leave in two days.” 

You sigh as well. “That’s much too soon.” 

“Yes, but in lighter news,” Juyeon says, jostling you with his shoulder, “Orindell told me you two made peace.” 

“We did.” You hum with a smile. 

And so you continue to walk and talk along the shore. Juyeon tells you about all his travels in the time you’ve been apart. And you tell him about the time you’ve spent here, at Jaehyun’s estate. You tell him about jumping from Angel’s Peak and learning how to swim. You tell him about Jaehyun, Younghoon, Vina, Insia, Cyrin, and the kids. You tell him about how the fog in your mind is so much weaker than it was when you left from the Golden Palace, and how much you’ve been able to learn about your past and about yourself. Although you decide to wait to tell Juyeon the specifics. 

Juyeon listens closely, nodding his head along. Once you’re done, he smiles mischievously, a new question on his tongue. “And so how long did it take you to realize you’re in love with Lord Jaehyun?” 

Your mouth drops, and you look at Juyeon shocked. “Well, longer than it took you to put it together.” 

“Ah, well, not everyone is as clueless as you when it comes to matters of the heart.” He tells you with a laugh. “If the King knew how much you’re enjoying the southern sea, I think he’d whisk you back to the palace immediately. You look happy.” 

You turn your head towards the water and wait for a wave to crash before responding. “I am.” The admission seems to make Juyeon happy as well. “Also, I’ve been meaning to say, but I think it’s about time we fought each other, Captain Juyeon.” 

He stops in his tracks. “Really?” 

You nod. And then you tell him about how you’ve outgrown your fear of fighting and losing yourself in it. And how you’ve come to control your own strength against your opponent. “Every afternoon, either I’m teaching the local children how to fight or I’m fighting Captain Younghoon and one of the guards. But now that you’re here, I think it’s time I put all those years I spent teaching you how to fight to use.” You pause, waiting for his response. 

He grips your shoulders and smiles excitedly. “You should know, I have been waiting for this day since I was 17 years old.” 

***

“Please don’t beat the life out of me.” Juyeon jokes that afternoon as you face each other in the courtyard ready to fight. 

“I won’t. Although, I wish I could beat out of you your fear of Risals.” At that, Juyeon laughs. The courtyard is filled with Jaehyun, Younghoon, mina, the guards, Juyeon’s squadron, the other Knights, and your students all awaiting the match between Captain Juyeon, one of the best fighters in the Knights of the Holy Order, and the Gift of Fortitude. You find you’re also excited for this match. Juyeon is a good fighter. You trained him for over five years, and in that time, you taught him all your moves. He knows the way you pick your fights and plot your moves. And perhaps, after his training with the Knights, Juyeon will surprise you with some new moves that you have yet to see. That being said, you don't doubt your ability to win. You might struggle a bit more than you do when fighting with Younghoon, but the thought makes your blood jump with excitement more than anything. 

You circle each other for a second, and when Juyeon does charge towards you fist clenched, it takes you a moment to register that he’s moved before you dodge the punch. You block his arm with yours and use the momentum to twirl around him, bringing your knee up to jam into his side. He lunges at you again. And then once more. You let the second blow hit your stomach just to see how strong Juyeon is and regret it the moment you do. He’s strong, and your own tolerance for pain is low. You sidestep from his next kick and use the imbalance to tackle him to the ground. And in the few seconds it takes for him to react, you pummel into his stomach with the same force that he punched you with and slap him on the face once, although the slap is petty and harmless. He clutches his cheek with fake shock before pushing you off him and to the ground, your back on the grass. He pins down your arms. “Don’t blame me for your own decision to take the hit.” He teases while also landing punches to your stomach for the small second he has you caged under his own body weight. You exhale dramatically heaving your legs up to throw him off. It’s only once you’re up that you feel the pain of his blows, although the pain does not feel as bad as it did before. You’re both on your feet again. Circling each other. Punching and kicking faster than you’ve seen in a while and faster than you’ve had to do yourself in years. You’re tackling each other to the ground in one moment and back on your feet in the next. Juyeon is fast. And you feel rusty fighting him. He’s punching and lunging at you with no rest even managing to hit you on some occasions but not in the way he wants for you’re always able to duck or twist your body just in time for the impact. You swipe your leg under his and it takes almost all your strength for the move to topple him onto his back. You find yourself thinking that you’ve instilled in Juyeon the importance of a good stance too well. But once he’s on his back, you kick him onto this stomach and quickly pounce onto him, trapping his hands behind his back with one hand and using your other hand to push his face into the grass. You use one foot to pin down both of his legs by the ankle and shove your other knee into the small of his back. 

“Surrender.” You pant. 

You lift his head up out of the grass by his hair. You’re surprised to hear that he’s laughing although it comes out ragged behind his heavy breathing. “I surrender.” 

And you fall onto your back in the grass next to him, clutching your stomach that’s beginning to ache with your own laughs. You are exhausted and jumping within your own body from the excitement all at the same time. You lay on the grass utterly delighted with the fight.

And once the people in the courtyard realize it’s ended, they erupt in an applause. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

It’s at dinner with everyone that you tell Juyeon all that you’ve remembered in the past months. You tell him about the Holy Wars and Lord Seth’s death. At last, you give him an answer to the question about the Nomads he asked that night back at the Golden Palace. He seems satisfied with all that you’ve told him, as if the pieces are finally coming together and in a sense, they are.  

“So then there’s just one more question left to ask.” He muses, sitting back in his chair. “Do you remember what else you told Peter the night before he left?” 

You suck in a breath. Had you told him something else? Perhaps whatever else you told Peter that night had something to do with why you advised him to go to the Nomads’ Land specifically, beyond their connection with the Elders. Perhaps it had something to do with—

oh. 

Suddenly your head splits into two, and in the chasm that emerges, you remember. 

“I do.” You breathe, cradling your head in your hands and unbelieving of your own memories. “Who told you?” 

“Peter told Roen and Orindell before he left. Orindell told me. We all had questions for you. But Roen was always on some eastern campaign, and you and Orindell weren’t even talking. I tried asking you, but you denied it every time I brought it up. You could barely remember before, but today you said that you’re remembering more now. You said the fog in your mind is clearing. Is it clear enough to tell me more? Do you remember enough to explain why you said what you did?” 

You’re silent, trying to make sense of your own foggy memories. It’s Jaehyun who eventually asks it. He leans towards you, and the hand he places on your hunched back feels like a vote of confidence and another of comfort, “are you alright?” You nod. He waits a beat. “What did you tell Peter that night?”

You look at Jaehyun. Then Younghoon. Then Juyeon; he nods. All three watch you carefully. 

“I told him that…” you gulp, picking at the table and then your shirt as well, “I told him one of the Seven Sins is still alive. I sent him to the Nomads’ Lands because I think they’ll know how to find the Sin” 

Jaehyun and Younghoon look at you insanely, almost as insanely as you feel. 

Juyeon starts laughing at the madness of it all. 

It’s a hard thing for you to explain, but you try anyway. “I know it’s difficult to believe. But I know it in my gut, and I think I’ve known it for quite some time now.” You tell them how when the Gifts arrived at your village and pronounced you the Gift of Fortitude, it was like you had been relieved of this lump in your throat or like they had reached into your stomach and pulled out a rock sitting at the bottom. It was only after the Holy Wars ended, with the signing of a treaty by you and Avi, that you realized the lump in your throat and the rock in your gut had returned. But you lived with the lump for so long and learned to tolerate the rock so well that you almost forgot about it entirely. That was until one day you woke in your rooms at the Golden Palace to a clear throat and empty stomach. You didn’t even realize what it meant until the week you told Peter.

And somewhere in the midst of recounting everything to Jaehyun, Juyeon, and Younghoon, your mind feels suddenly, blissfully clear. That night, you do more than just remember.

You shoot up from your seat, startling all three of them. You find paper in the next room and begin to write to Peter. Because in your clarity, you see more than you’ve ever seen before. You know how to help Peter find the Sin. Your hand flies across the paper, clarity leading the pen with a mind of its own. And by the time you’re done, Jaehyun, Younghoon, and Juyeon have followed you into the kitchen. All four of them stare at your scribblings. 

“What is that?” 

“I think it’s supposed to be a letter.” 

“No, no. It’s a drawing.” 

“Actually,” you cut all three of them off, “I think it’s meant to be a map.” 

The three boys share a look. 

“What do you mean you think?” 

“You’re the one who drew it, how can you not know?” 

“I still think it’s a drawing.”

“Please.” You spit at the boys, grinding your teeth at the bubbling pain in your head. “It’s a map. And it’s for Peter.” You retrieve your Risal, and pray silently that your message finds him, and that he’ll be able to make sense of your muddled clarity. “Peter will know.” You add before whispering his name to the Risal and watching the bird disappear into the night sky. 

Juyeon shifts his weight between his feet. The question that leaves his lips sounds painfully hopeful. “You really can’t remember?”

Then, all at once, your pain returns. Blurring your vision, making you feel nauseous and unsure. Your body, your mind, your limbs feel weak. Weaker than after you swim for miles with Jaehyun. Weaker than after your fight with Juyeon. This pain is more than physical. This pain consumes you. It infiltrates your entire being. But this is a pain you know. This is how you feel every time the fog in your mind reclaims its territory. 

You fall to your knees, Jaehyun catching you in his arms before you hit the ground completely. You grimace into his shoulder. He says something to Younghoon who shuffles away hurriedly before carrying you in his arms away from the kitchen and back to your bedroom. The last thing you remember before everything turns black is the pain in your head and Jaehyun’s voice in your ear. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun can’t sleep that night. He sits by your bedside instead and waits for you to wake up, unable to erase the look on your face moments before you passed out. Jaehyun is no stranger to the fog in your mind, but at dinner something was different, off. When you first started telling Jaehyun about your past, you suffered from headaches often, but as time passed and as your past became a familiar topic of conversation, the headaches faded away. Jaehyun can’t even remember the last time you requested the migraine medicine from Vina. And more than that, you never seemed to forget what you remembered with Jaehyun. But last night was nothing like what Jaehyun had seen before. In one moment, you knew everything with a startling amount of certainty, and then in the next, you were kneeling on the floor, crying in pain. Jaehyun can’t seem to rid his mind of the look on your face, a look that expressed more than just your pain, a look that screamed confusion. Jaehyun can’t forget how lost you looked in your own mind and how hard you were trying to claw your way out. Jaehyun tries to think of something else. 

He hears rustling beside him, and you’re up, attempting to sit up in the bed. He coaxes you into laying back down. And once you’re really awake, rubbing circles to your temples, Jaehyun asks if you’re feeling any better. 

“Not by much.” You groan, dropping your hands on the bed. 

Jaehyun takes a seat on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. He takes your free hand in his and squeezes. “Tell me what you remember.”

And so you do. “Was it a map that I sent to Peter?” You ask once you’ve reached the end. Jaehyun nods, and you sigh an ‘oh’ turning your head away. 

A silence engulfs the room, and there’s something in your voice when you whisper, “why is it that I can’t remember why I sent it?” that makes a piece of Jaehyun break. He doesn’t know what to say. So you stare at the ceiling until you silently slip back into sleep. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE— The Risal returns the next day while you and Jaehyun are sitting at the rocks alone. It’s been months since anyone has heard from Peter, so when the Risal lands on your arm dropping a letter in your lap, you’re more than just shocked. You read it silently. 

Dear Fortitude,  Firstly, I presume I should apologize for not answering any of your previous Risals. I had no good news to share. That is, until now. We’ve deciphered your code. We know exactly what to do now. I’m not sure how you knew this was what we needed to finish. Meet us at my castle. From there, we’ll go together. The end is near.  -Peter

“What’s it say?” Jaehyun questions. You look at him softly before handing him the letter to read for himself. 

He’s quiet then, “oh.” He folds the letter, placing it back in your lap. “I thought you said it was a map.” 

“Jaehyun.” You whisper, not letting him ignore the thoughts and worries that plague both your minds. 

He pouts and looks out towards the sea. When he speaks at last, he does it so softly, it makes a part of you burn. “You should go.” 

You hurl a small rock into the water. “What if I don’t want to?” 

“I hate to say it, but you—“ 

“I know.” You take a shallow breath. “I have to.” 

Things are put into place quietly after that. All of the Princes have their own castle although none of them spend much time at them. Peter’s castle is northwest of King’s City, a day's worth of riding with a strong horse. You would ride with Juyeon’s squadron to King’s City, and from there you would ride to Peter castle which was built right into the side of the western mountains alone. It would take you three days of riding if you’re lucky. Five days if you’re not. In truth, you don’t want to leave Jaehyun's estate, and you most certainly don’t want to bid goodbye to the sea. 

This is what you want: to throw yourself off of Angel’s Peak like a sack of flour. You want to swim in the cold, freezing water. You want to swim away from the kingdom. From the King. From your worries. From your fears. You want to swim far far away to some remote, undiscovered island where you no longer have to be the Gift of Fortitude. And you want to do it all with Jaehyun. 

But you pack your bags instead, send Peter a Risal telling him you’ll arrive at his castle soon. You say goodbye to Jaehyun and Younghoon that night. You and Juyeon would be leaving before they wake. And later that night, you go to Jaehyun’s room and sleep in his bed and cry into his pillow because you don’t want to leave. But more than that, you don’t want to leave him. You say goodbye again. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun jolts out of bed. He feels disgustingly cold when he realizes that he’s woken up alone. That you’re already gone. But then he hears shouting and horseshoes against pavement from out of his window. He looks behind the curtains and makes out six figures on horseback, just beginning to ride away from the estate. He’s running out of his room, slipping on shoes and a shirt, and dragging his horse out of the stables, desperately trying to catch up to Juyeon’s squadron and needing to catch up to you. 

He’s riding faster than wind through the town roads, screaming your name. And when he finally catches up to you, in the forest path, he leaps off his horse and runs to you. You see him at the same time he sees you, jumping off your horse as well and flinging yourself into Jaehyun’s arm. Only once he’s embracing you in his arms does Jaehyun realize he’s crying. Juyeon leads his squadron further down the path, slowly so that you can catch up afterwards, but away to give you privacy. 

“You didn’t say goodbye.” He cries into your hair. 

“I didn’t want to wake you.” 

“You should’ve. I barely sleep as it is.” 

“All the more reason not to, Jaehyun.” 

He squeezes his arms around you. 

“Ask me to stay.” You whisper into his neck, sad and lonely. 

“I can’t.” He whispers back. You pull away and look at his face. Swiping your thumbs across his cheeks. 

“Tell me you hate me then.” You weep. “And that you want me to go. Tell me you want me far away from here.“

“Fortitude—” 

“Tell me something to make me hate you.” 

“—I can’t.” 

You inhale sharply, grabbing fitfulls of his shirt in your hands. “Then tell me something that will make it easier to bear the pain of leaving you.” 

He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, noticing that your hair is in a braid. Jaehyun hesitates. “Did you do your hair yourself? When did you learn how to braid it?”

You slap his chest. “You dummy. I’ve known how to braid since the first time you showed me.” And then you’re crying again, burying your face into his chest. Jaehyun’s laughing and crying, stroking your braided hair because how foolish is it you both should have wanted nothing more than to be near each other since the very beginning. And how foolish is it that it took you so long to admit, to yourselves and to each other. 

“I love you.”

“Not that,” you bawl, “tell me anything but that.” 

“I love you.” He repeats. “And one day, when all this is over, we’ll go west. To where the mountains meet the sea. So that you’ll have an infinite number of cliffs to throw yourself off of.” You nod, laughing through the tears. Jaehyun kisses you. Once. Twice. Again. And over. 

“I’ll come back, Jaehyun.” You promise. “I’ll come back here, to you.” 

“Well, yeah, you have to.” You look at him confused but amused. He continues softly. “Because the sea is still yours to take.” 

You laugh once. Kiss him twice. Then mount your horse riding down the path again. And Jaehyun watches you go, holding your last I love you to his chest.

a/n: i feel a little odd and scared to be reposting this piece... again. but i’ve been flirting with the idea of reposting it for tbz for too long for me to not lol. also i didn’t edit or proofread this very thoroughly so if the names got mixed up somewhere within this monster then thats why my bad

[messwriting]

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

SCARRED HANDS

Iwaizumi Hajime (Older) x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings:  Mafia AU related plot, including drugs. gun traffic and homicide. Violence. SERIOUS TALK ABOUT GAMBLING, ADDICTION, DEBT AND FAMILY ISSUES/FORGIVENESS. Hajime is older, about early forties while Reader is in her twenties, so: Age gap.  Slow-burn (I think?). Presence of an OC named Rei in a side-ship with Mattsun. In this first part there’s no smut.

Part One | Part Two (soon) Word count: 7.5k

Note: This is my second contribution to The Smut Pile Collab, hosted by the lovelies @present-mel​, @pleasantanathema​ and @linestrider​. Thank you so much Claudia, @thisisthehardestthing​​​, for beta-ing this and all your amazing comments who have made me scream so much i’m pretty sure my neighbors are wary for my sanity. There’s a side OC/Mattsun here that is my small gift to @mixedhell​​ for everything she has always done for me and for being such a great beta, friend and enabler. <3

I was trying to not break this in two parts, but as it seems my brain keeps hellbent on putting more plot in this, it has become unavoidable. Uh, enjoy? This is my excuse of a fic to just love Iwaizumi at any and all given opportunity! Second part in the works but with no release date yet. <3

Iwaizumi never wanted this life. 

He thinks about it while cleaning his bloody knuckles with a wet cloth, taking care to surround the parts where the skin had broken, scars over scars to the point that he practically did not know what was old and what was recent. The pain didn't bother him anymore, a constant in his life to the point that he barely registered the new injuries. That was the life of the second-in-command of the Seijoh Mafia.

He lived a poor childhood, violent teenage years. At the time, he didn’t have much choice in resorting to crime. It was easy, even; he was good with his hands, fast and built broad and strong since he was young. When his only and best friend told him he wanted to be the Boss, he’d almost laughed before seeing that familiar glint in his friend's eyes – that pure, fierce determination Oikawa had been practically born with– and, void of a dream for himself, he pledged himself to that of his only family.

“Take him to the back,” Hajime tells his trusted duo, who watched over him and the man they’ve been working for the past hour. Matsukawa nods shortly and puts out the cigarette he was smoking, still in half, on the nearest surface, before addressing the bloody man tied to a chair.

“What are you going to do now?” Hanamaki asks from the entrance threshold, not looking at him but rather to the night sky above them outside the deposit in the outskirts of the town. His joint is ending, sweet smoke blowing out and swirling up. 

“I’ll tell Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says like it was obvious. “He’s gonna have to be more careful with his companies.”

Hanamaki snorts while smiling. “Not that he’ll listen.”

Hajime shrugs, throwing the blood-stained rag back without a care for where it’ll land. “That’s his problem.” Then he sighs, looking up at the smoke from Hanamaki’s joint swirling around the wind. “The mole is ours.”

--

Iwaizumi has a special place, if he could call it that. 

He discovered the owner had died with consternation, when he went to the place at his usual time and found it, for what was probably the first time in more than a decade, closed. The diner operated until the ignoble hours of the night, which is why, since Iwaizumi was still a soldier, he used to spend the last hours of his day or the early hours of his mornings there, in what he’d call his little break in between work; his moment of calm even on the most eventful nights of his violent life.

Since he had risen the ranks rather quickly, the habit had given way to certain care with the frequency in which he visited the place, although the time had little variation and was always after two in the morning. 

It was the moment when the night calmed down, the clubs and parties booming, the restaurants that opened at early hours already closed; the brave few passers-by running to their safe places on empty streets while the cars running through the streets lessened by the minute. This was the time when night-shift policemen were already tired of both the events of their shift and the long worked hours, nodding off in their cars.

The diner was on a street just a few blocks away from the heaviest area of ​​the city, where clubs and parties continued until the bright hours of the morning; the drug traffic in these places had been feeding the old mafia veins for decades, since before Iwaizumi, and he was certain he would meet his end way before it did. 

The place was small, nothing much, two big windows beyond the door showing the old, almost vintage interior, careless by the owner who never paid much attention to the decorative aspect of the place. Twenty years ago, when Iwaizumi went from being a simple associate to a soldier, just beginning his life as a man, the place was busier, almost famous - and even then the nights were always the quietest shift, the time where degenerates inherited the city.

Iwaizumi didn't know exactly what had disappointed him so much when he found out that old Lou had gone for the better. Lou wasn't even the old man’s real name - he just adopted it once the name of the diner -- Lou’s Diner -- ended up merging with his in the daily life of being the business owner. Iwaizumi was a constant presence in the place enough to know that Lou, in fact, was the name of the old man's wife, who had died young.

In fact, Iwaizumi spent the days following the discovery of the man’s passing trying to figure out where the place would end - Lou had never said anything about family, but there was always the possibility that the business had been pledged in warrant of some debt and if not, there was the bank. The old man wasn’t exactly what you’d call an exemplary business manager.

A surprise came again when Iwaizumi drove past the place during the day and for the first time in three weeks, there was movement inside the diner - and his first thought is theft. 

It wouldn’t be surprising, considering both the neighborhood and the fact that with the place closed three weeks before, every thug in the street knows that everything is still there.

Iwa sighs, then makes a u-turn so he can park close to the alley on the diner’s corner. He’s surprised, but he realizes it is, in fact, not the case. Unless the young woman holding a broom and looking around as she rolls up the sleeves of a loose oversized T-shirt over normal jeans shorts were, somehow, a phenomenal smuggler.

Against his better judgment, Iwaizumi gets out of his BMW and steps carefully onto the sidewalk, checking his surroundings with practiced ease. The glass doors of the diner are wide open, sidewalk wet and leaking soapy water into the street. Iwa crosses through it with little care, pausing for a moment while the oblivious girl inside keeps brushing away.

“Hello,” Iwaizumi salutes from the wide open doors, perhaps to also let the place breathe some air after the days closed. You startle, the broom in your hand flying to the floor with a loud crash. 

“Holy fuck!” you yelp, turning around with both hands in front of your body. “Are you trying to kill me, dude?” 

Iwaizumi almost chuckles, the corners of his lips turning up. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He takes his hands out of his pockets, showing them in front of his body as a sign of peace. And it isn’t like he can’t easily kill you and anyone you may have inside with just them.

“Oh god. My heart,” you murmur, clenching your shirt over your chest while sucking in a few breaths. Your eyes finally come up to his. “Sorry, I think I was just too distracted.”

Hajime nods. He isn’t a man to say sorry twice. “I was just passing by and noticed the diner open. It’s been closed for some weeks, so I was just checking.”

“Oh, sure.” Your mouth opens in a small ‘o’, and Iwaizumi is surprised at how it got his attention. Pretty lips on an even prettier face. “Yeah… I’m reopening it this week. I just need to fix some things around here.”

Iwaizumi gives you a once over. Discreetly. He leans against the doorframe, curiosity winning him over.  “So, you bought it?”

“What?” you laugh, hand coming to wipe the sweat from your brow. “No. I inherited it."

Iwaizumi assumes that he was unable to hide his surprise by the way your lips move to form an amused smile.

“Ha, yes, most people have the same reaction as you.” You bend to grab the broom in the ground and Iwaizumi’s eyes tread for a second too long along the spanse of your body while you’re not looking. “Which is funny, and also tells a whole tale about the old man.”

“I suppose it does,” Iwaizumi nods once while speaking.

He looks over the place, sees the few changes being done; the paint cans on the ground, the boxes by the corner, the shelfs being replaced and the new color of the upholstered sofas. You in the middle of it all -- the new and the old. 

“I’ll leave you to your cleaning, then. It’s good to know the place isn’t closing.” 

Before you can say anything else, he’s already taking his leave. 

You turn around to thank him but Iwaizumi is already far down the sidewalk, not sparing a glance at you once his back is turned. Your head bends sideways almost involuntary, eyes threading the expanse of his broad back, clad in a beautiful light blue social shirt, rolled sleeves over bulging forearms, with black slacks and expensive looking shoes. While you hoped you didn’t stare before, now you are free to do so and wow, that is a beautiful male specimen if you ever saw one. 

Your first thought is that he didn’t belong in here -- the scenario of a beaten up street and a mildly abandoned diner, in the middle of the day on the foul part of the city. Then again, he looks rather at ease, familiarized, and it isn’t like you can know someone from just one look. 

If anything, a good looking man like that always comes with a catch.

“Hey,” your friend comes through the kitchen doors, looking pretty much like you, tired and sweaty after the morning deep cleaning. “What's going on here? I heard something but I was on the phone”

“Oh,” you say, then grin mischievously at her. “A hot piece of man just passed by asking about the diner.”

“No!” your friend almost cried, lips pressing together in a pout. “See! This is why I keep being single! I never get to see any hotties from the fucking kitchen.”

“Hey, not my fault you decided to be a cook.”

--

Iwaizumi tells himself he’s just checking on the place he likes.

It’s out of a weird misplaced sentimentality, he reasons. He’s been going there for years after all. He’s checking out the new owner, that’s it. The young woman who somehow inherited Lou’s bar. The pretty young woman who was redecorating and cleaning the place that probably didn’t get any love for the last fifteen years. And that’s what Iwaizumi is telling himself when he crosses the city at late hours of the night because the first thing he needs to know is if you’re stupid enough to actually open the place until the ungodly hours of mornings like the old man used to.

And, sure enough, you are. 

It’s past three in the morning when Iwaizumi parks on the other side of the street, but the regulars pour in like clockwork at the sight of the open diner -- old fellas, mostly, and some passersby who work at night. The whores, and the tired workers, all mingling the later it gets. Iwaizumi counts five clients, which is a busy night, and somehow he struggles to find security in your arrangement. 

It’s a weird feeling to have for someone -- worry -- and for all the constant preoccupation he has going on in his life with Oikawa, he’s sure he hasn't felt that particular brand of it in some time. 

For that same reason, Hajime turns around and leaves.

A week later and he’s back. 

This time it’s earlier in the night, just past midnight and the diner is empty save for three regulars he knows well enough. Iwaizumi hates to admit it, but he’s curious; Matsukawa told him that the place had been closing at four and reopening at eleven, with not exactly lots of clients, but with enough patrons to not be discouraged. 

But it was the fact that the man depicted the place as “nice” that got Iwaizumi interested.  Mattsun is not the kind to throw empty comments like those and there was a glint in this man's eyes that made him suspicious. If a small hint of jealousy sparks on Iwa’s chest, he says it’s for the place.

He signals for Makki to turn a curve so he can get off on the other side of the street and tells him to park somewhere out of sight. He doesn’t like to have the BMW close, working as a beacon; the fact Iwa already dares to have a routine place is trouble enough. 

“Bring me a coffee when you come back.” The strawberry blonde tells him while perching himself over the car window, driving off before Iwaizumi can give him a nasty stare. Iwa takes his time on the pavement directly across the diner, lighting a cigarette while moving to cross the street. 

The bell that rings when he crosses the door threshold surprises him for a moment, bringing the stares of everyone inside to him. Some of the old regulars nod his way, and Iwaizumi nods in return, a stiff greeting but one they grew used to in the years of sharing the space.

You look eager, eyebrows shooting up as if you’re not expecting to see him standing in the middle of the place like that. Then, your lips turn up into a smile and Iwaizumi almost misses the sentiment behind it. It’s been far too long since someone looks this pleased into seeing him anywhere. 

Well, with the exception of Oikawa. But that’s because he normally shows up to save the man’s stupid ass.

Iwaizumi walks over to his usual spot, in the back, by the window and sits on the newer looking red sofa. The scratched old table looks bright with new polishing. He notes the changes, appreciates them even: the cleaner looking designs despite the vintage diner ambience, the cream walls, the new smell of good food and well brewed coffee. 

The ground is clean for the first time in a few years, the glass windows and doors looking good and there’s an overall different air around the small place. It feels good. Iwaizumi isn’t used to it. You come close to him, no uniform but jeans and a loose white shirt with a black apron tied around your middle, a coffee pot in one hand and a cup in the other.

“Hello there. Good night -- or day, depending on how your life works.” Your smile is disconcerting. You signal with your head to the coffee. “Want some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“No worries.” You pour some for him and ask if he wants milk or cream, which he doesn’t. Iwaizumi likes his coffee black. “Can I bring the menu?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say no. But he’s curious about what you’re doing with the place, so he nods. Again, you smile while nodding and leaving, and Iwaizumi is baffled by your disposition to be nice at this hour. The old mas was more of a fuck-it kinda person, so it’s a small whishplash to have actual service in here.

Before you leave, however, you turn back and smile at him in what Hajime can only define as playfully. 

“Glad you finally decided to come in and give us a shot.” Your eyes are bright with mirth, proud of yourself for being so observant, and in the late hours of night he feels charged. “I promise you it’s not so bad.”

Oh, Hajime thinks as his face feels slightly warm, a twitch on his fingertips while he looks at your pretty face. This can’t be good.

You wait a bit. Seeing as the whole movement inside the diner changes with the small addition of one man at the corner table. You realise people haven’t sat on that table during the late nights, even when Iwaizumi had yet to even enter the place before.

So, you brace yourself with all the courage you’ve been mustering, and pretend to offer him a refill of coffee while walking over. You’ve been conjuring up theories for him since you saw him the first time, perched on the doors while you were cleaning, and it didn’t help that you kept seeing his car passing around the place for some time before he finally decided to come to the diner.

“Are you an old regular or something?” you ask while refilling his cup with hot, freshly brewed coffee. You’d lie if anyone asked if you did a whole new coffee pot just to find an opening to talk to him.

“Why do you ask?” His eyes are always so deep, the musky green color seemingly pulling you in, black irises eating you up. Your pulse quickens but you hold his eyes on yours even as your face grows warm.

“It’s just that you’re always here.” The words tumble out of your mouth quickly as you deposit the coffee pot on the table, looking at him almost eagerly. “Most of my regulars seem to know you and leave you alone. So I thought that maybe, you know, you may come here for the old times sake.”

He holds your eyes with his for a moment, then looks down to the cup of coffee while he brings it to his lips. 

“I guess you could say that.” 

It feels like a period. Like he isn’t much for small talk, so you pat the apron in front of you, pick up the coffee pot from the table and nod while looking back to the counter to mask your disappointment with such a short conversation.

“Hmm, got’cha.”

“So, the old man was your father?” His voice picks up a tone higher and you turn with big eyes to him. He looks quiet, observant while he looks up at you and somehow, without nothing to hold on, you decide you want to talk to him some more.

“No, I never knew my dad. The stupid man was my grandpa.” 

“Hm,” Iwaizumi nods, his eyes still on you. For some reason you can’t stand the silence, so you keep talking.

“He’d left the business for me and if I'm honest things were not going great where I was so,” you shrug. “I thought about giving this a shot.”

“And your mom?” His eyes on yours make you feel pressured and also lacking, your mouth working before your mind can really think. “She’s been dead since I was a kid.”

He blinks, surprised, and when he speaks he sounds so genuine you smile, “sorry to hear that.” 

“No problem. It’s life, right?” you ask rhetorically, an unwavering smile on your face and bright eyes despite the forlorn subject. Hajime’s chest does something weird at the sight, eyes moving down to the coffee mug by his hands.

Is it? Hajime doesn’t know. But he also hasn't had parents or any kind of family besides Oikawa and the trouble duo, so he nods, murmuring agreement. You leave him alone for the rest of the night, but not without getting his name and introducing yourself; and you do it mostly because you’re still unsure about the man. He’s quiet, mostly keeps to himself while drinking his coffee and sometimes ordering something he never finishes, but other than that, he doesn’t do much. Which, despite that, doesn’t change the fact he sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of the place. 

His clothes are expensive even if they’re simple; his watch and rings glints under the diner lights, catching attention; and his eyes are like two black gunbarrels pointed straight at you in a face with a jawline sharp enough to cut. 

He makes you feel slightly unnerved and a whole lot interested. 

 Hajime wonders, as he exits the dinner and walks the short distance to where Makki has parked the car, if he has enough reasons to be worried about you. He enters the back of the expensive black BMW, gives the annoying blonde his promised coffee and nods so he can start driving. Iwaizumi settles on the backseat and turns to look at Hanamaki, eyeing him through the rearview mirror.

“Makki.” 

“Yes, Boss.” The answer comes immediately.

“Is this place in anyone's rotation?” Makki’s eyes thread to the mirror to look Hajime back.

“Old Lou’s dinner?”

“Yes.”

Makki’s brows furrow in thought while he seems to think it over. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so.” His eyes lock on Hajime’s figure through the rearview mirror and Iwa counts the seconds until he asks, since his curiosity always wins. ”Why?”

“Check it for me.”  It’s the end of conversation, and Makki knows. He nods.

“‘kay, Iwa.”

Iwaizumi’s thoughts are brewing, his brows furrowing deeply while he thinks over the whole exchange from earlier.

In a short conversation of a few minutes, you already unsuspectingly told him that you had no family left, no one to miss you if you’re gone. From that he can infer the easy things -- that you probably live alone, seeing as he’s never seen a boyfriend in the restaurant or calling you while you’re working the counter; that you must either live in your grandpa’s house or a small apartment if you’re trying to make more money by renting the old man’s place; that you probably leave alone after closing the dinner -- and he got all that by an easy small talk over coffee. 

Iwa’s lips turn sour while he turns to watch over the streets late at night, the dangerous things that lie in the dark. He ignores that he, himself, is one of them. 

Yes, maybe he should check on you.

--

Iwaizumi observes with a frown while Oikawa waltzes inside his penthouse with his new friend. The woman is, much like all of Oikawa’s partners, beautiful. Luxurious hair and curves, all wrapped in an equally expensive package the color of bright fucking red. Tonight things are less busy in the place, with Iwaizumi and the duo in the living room, while Kunimi keeps watch on the door from his position bended over the counter. Like with everything in his life, the man looks bored and done at the same time.

“I have to give it to him, he does have taste.” Hanamaki points it out unemotionally, his eyes threading along the lady of the moment hanging off Oikawa’s arm. Mattsun looks up from his phone in time to catch a look, his arched brow doing an appearance.

“Yeah, but that’s not new.”

“The idiot blows through women as you do with joints.” Iwaizumi scoffs, twirling his cup of whisky and enjoys the moment to sip his drink. “Which is stupid, both of you.”

“Couldn’t hear your criticism over the sound of you downing that whisky.” Hanamaki pipes in and Mattsun laughs but quickly retrieves himself back to his phone once Iwaizumi gives both of them a nasty glare. 

On the other side of the room, Oikawa parts ways with his company, probably telling the woman to go somewhere inside his apartment while he handles business. His companion’s normally don’t ask much about what he does -- the less they know, the less they lie.

While Iwaizumi does understand the appeal of having someone to warm his bed at night like that, it just seems ridiculous to parade them around as Oikawa does; as if they’re a walking vitrine of his power and money, clad in so many brilliants, Hajime wonders if Oikawa can even see them through the shine.

Iwaizumi sighs when Oikawa finally moves in their direction, crossing his leg over his thigh as he stretches his back against the chair backrest. He drinks the rest of the whisky in one go.

 “I see you already treated yourself to some beverage, Iwa-chan.”

The ridiculous nickname stuck, even after all these years, no matter how many glares and curses Hajime threw his way– and Oikawa has seen Hajime kill men before. Still, the brunette stays unwavering in his teasing -- and Iwa has made arrangements to make sure no one but him feels free to use that denomination.

“Good whisky ain’t making me nicer, shittykawa.” There’s also the fact Iwaizumi maintains his mockery with his friend, even as most of the Mob now call him Boss. He supposes it’s good to have few good childhood memories, if one can.

“At least it makes you less grumpy.” 

Iwaizumi wonders if people would believe him if he told them the Boss pokes his tongue out and flops on the sofa then again, Oikawa’s charm is in being unwavering himself. When Oikawa crosses his leg over his knee and blinks feral, focused eyes over Iwaizumi, it’s easy to see the beast that brought him into the position as the chief in command of the Seijoh Mafia. “So, what did you have to tell me that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“You’re being reckless,” Iwa starts, calm. “I’ve told you about being careful with your companion’s while I’m busy handling that subject.”

Oikawa pretends not to listen, falling back on his big chair without a care in the world. 

“She’s a friend!” His face turns smug, even while there’s a small whine in his voice. It’s a stark difference from the feral Oikawa Tooru that put fear in the hearts of every Mafia in the bordering neighborhoods where they acted and climbed the ranks so fast, he became the head of Seijoh mob while only closing in on his early thirties -- and that was ten years ago. Still, around Iwaizumi, Oikawa keeps being the same brat he ever was.

“You need to get laid, Iwa.” The brunette laughs a bit, pouring more whisky for both of them. “How long it’s been, huh? Two decades? That’s how long your frown has been etched onto your face.”

Makki and Mattsun try to hide their smiles, but it’s futile.

“Don’t worry about my love life.”

“Love life?” Now Oikawa laughs, hand smacking his knee in his amusement. “I’m talking fucking, Iwa. We don’t have time for love.”

“Another reason why you shouldn’t worry about what doesn’t pertain to you.”

“Ohh~” Iwaizumi hates that he saw the singsong coming, “such big words. Gosh, that must mean it’s been years without action down there.”

“Why the worry, Tooru?” Iwaizumi asks, voice turning deep, eyes threading over Oikawa’s face. That has happened -- and ended, but it didn’t mean the two men didn’t play around it sometimes.

“Is the sex you’ve been getting so bad, you’ve been worried about mine?” Iwa scoffs, drinks a full mouth of whisky and turns to look at Oikawa once again. 

“You look too old to be getting any action,” Oikawa mocks him, snickering behind his glass. “Look at those lines and wrinkles, oh gosh Iwa, we’re the same age, you’re making me look bad.”

“Shut up, trashykawa,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “I’m just going to tell you this time: fucking behave. I’m looking into the mole, but you need to watch your back.”

“I thought that was your job, though.”

“Makes it a bit fucking hard when you bring home a diferent friend every night. Babysitting a toddler would be easier than you.” Iwaizumi grumbles and scoffs, finishing his drink in one go. “I’m doing my job. Now listen to me so that I can do it well.”

Iwaizumi slams his glass on the wooden coffee table and stands, the sound loud but not enough to disturb the rest of the men around the place. Maddog does look at Iwaizumi as if thinking what’s the cause for his distress, but the man has learned long ago that Oikawa rattles on everyone's nerves at some point -- Iwa just happens to be ticked more than the rest, a consequence of being friends with the man, he assumes.

Iwa pats his slacks, re-doing the button on his suit and walks away, moving a hand in the air as a way to say goodbye to Oikawa. “Your friend is waiting for you.” 

Hanamaki and Matsukawa are behind him before he stops in front of the elevator doors, Kunimi not even looking up as the three of them leave. “Try not to be dead by the morning.”

“I’ll do my best~” Oikawa singsongs back, a carefree smile on his face. 

Mattsun is driving tonight and that means Hanamaki is speaking the whole time, going on about how the Karasuno Mob is growing, potentially able to slip between Seijoh and Shiratorizawa’s territory if they’re not careful. Iwaizumi listens, but doesn’t really offer anything to the discussion; he’s too caught up in his head, wondering about what he’s going to do with Oikawa and how he can flush out the mole as fast as possible until something catches his ear, every thought in his mind freezing at the mention of the diner neighborhood.

“What did you say?”

“Huh?” Makki stops, looking back through the seat. “Oh, some of ours have been talking about seeing Shiratorizawa around downtown territory.” Makki turns serious, and it happens so rarely that the moment his demeanor shifts, Iwaizumi actually grasps his worries by the simple difference in the air surrounding the blonde. “Johzenji too.”

Now, that’s worrisome. While Seijoh and Shiratorizawa have some shared business in downtown and somewhat of a truce on those places, Johzenji is way too far from its limits, crossing borders they know they should not. Iwaizumi catches sight of how his frown actually caves lines on his forehead and Oikawa’s snickers pops in his mind as if the male was right there, he scoffs but his look is serious.

They can’t leave it that way.

Hajime tells himself that the fact that your face pops in his mind and the thought of a territorial war a few blocks away from the Diner makes his hands constrict into fists, has nothing to do with how fast he decided he must handle it. 

But it gets a little less believable as he orders Matsukawa to keep an eye out on your street, like if it wasn’t clear that by your street -- he meant you.

--

You notice the man staying around.

Actually, you doubt anyone hasn’t noticed the tall man who likes to linger just a bit too much around your diner as if he’s your hired security guard or something. He’s taller than most people, broad and built enough for you to see it in the way his clothes cling to his form, and has this fixation with metal, because both his ears are pierced and his knuckles are always adorned with thick rings. He looks bad, and has a cigarette pending from his lips to crown the look. Which, of course, prompts half the women population who enjoy your diner to look. It probably doesn’t help that despite his aloof behavior he can be quite the charmer.

And you’re suspecting your cook and friend is falling for it.

“If you light that cigarette right now after I’ve just told you to leave and smoke outside, I swear to god I’ll use the fire extinguisher on you, Matsukawa-san.” You always chastise him out of the Dinner once he starts smoking, since Issei has no respect for the very big, very red “no smoking” sign you had to purchase just because of him. He grins at you from his high seat on the counter and lifts his hands in a sign of rendition.

“Okay, honey. I’ll drop it.” 

You eye him very sharply until his fingers finally close around his cigar and he takes it out the clasp of his lips. You watch until he pockets it again in his metal case. Then, you finally blink and nod, turning to enter inside your kitchen. You’ve made the mistake of trusting him before, letting him out of your sight once he signaled defeat when you reprimanded him, just to come out and find him smoking anyway. So, now, you take the extra precautions with him, reason why you open the door without warning to check on him, finding him calmly studying the menu. 

He eyes you and blinks, a big grin splitting his face. 

“I’ll behave,” he crosses a finger over his heart like a scout. ”Promise.” 

You snort, but turn around and enter the kitchen space, yelling at your friend the newest orders, to which she just yells back a fine.

You grab the done plates– buttermilk pancakes and swiss omelette with orange juice and black coffee– and push the door outside with your hip, while calmly balancing everything on your tray. 

It’s a quiet late-morning, most of the regulars have already left for work and you’re dealing with the unusual clients, just three if you count Mattsun.

Once you’re back at the counter, Matsukawa is signaling with the menu for you to come over. 

“So, what’s your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“First, I’d like you to drop the san, it makes me feels fucking old.” 

You tease him just the bit by giving him a pointed look with a very arched eyebrow. 

“Stop it,” he hisses at you, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you fuckin-”

“You are old,” you tell him, pleased with yourself when he hisses as if burned, making you sport a big smile while on it. He’s glaring at you. “See, this is how I feel when I catch you smoking once I tell you not to.”

His lopsided grin is a panty-dropper; too bad you’re thinking about how it would be if someone else grinned at you like that. “Valid.” 

The seconds tick by while you wait for Matsukawa to say his order but he just stares at you as if you’re slowly losing your mind. You sigh, resist the urge to facepalm but do press two fingers into the middle of your forehead in an upwards motion to help with the stress, to look at him again and smile. 

“Your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“Again with the -san? Let me make a deal with you. You call me Issei and I’ll never smoke inside again.”

You eye him suspiciously but ultimately decide it’s a nice deal. 

“Deal,” you say, while jutting your lips out to hide a smile, still looking for hints he may be lying. “And if I catch you smoking inside again I’ll start calling you Jiji.”

Issei’s eyes go large, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline until he coughs and sputters, “you wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

The stare-down goes for a few seconds until you end it by saying, “I’ll get your regular,” and turning around to leave.

“This isn’t over!”

“Yeah, yeah, just behave.”

Once you’re in the kitchen, the clattering and noises are loud.

“You should chill a bit before you end up completely mutilating the pans, Rei. Half my money is in your kitchen.”

She throws you a nasty glare from across all the other way by her stove, doing God knows what but whatever it is smells heavenly.

“Do you believe the gall of this idiot outside?”

“Yep,” you chirp, but you eye her closely while she continues. You know her enough to know what’ll happen next.

“He had the fucking nerve to say my food was too salty.”

“Uh,” Escapes your lips, but you narrow your eyes at her, taking in the redness of her face, the way she looks overheated and the gesticulating arms while she walks around using too much strength while opening and closing the kitchen cabinets.

“SALTY!” She hollers to the emptiness of her kitchen, which pretty much makes it echo through the walls. You’re half certain you can hear Matsukawa chuckling outside. You wait for it, by now you know it’s coming. “I’ll show him what the fuck being too salty means.” She keeps going, cranky and beating the pans with that bit too much strength so that the clanks and tinkling sound loud even to you. You wait just a little bit more. “That handsome motherfucker, I’ll fucking deck him with my frying pan!”

And there it is.

You snicker just the tiniest bit, and put the order for his regular. She snatches it from your hand and points a paring knife at you.

“Don’t you dare say anything.” She does look fairly threatening, but the thing is that you’ve been on the other side of that knife one too many times to care now.

“Hey, if you like insufferable assholes, who am I to judge?”

“Fuck you.”

--

The movement is slow tonight, the cold weather with a drizzle makes your regulars stay home and the streets stay empty. It’s just a bit past midnight and you already know you’re closing early. Iwaizumi has been seated at his usual spot for a good twenty minutes already and, much like every other night, he’s just doing nothing -- looking over the street, reading the paper, sometimes a book or daring to look at his phone. Rei is still moving around in the kitchen and there’s only one other person in the diner -- an old man eating his soup calmly on the whole other side.

You feel restless; your eyes keep darting to him as if waiting to be caught, definitely not being the subtle person you hope to be, nothing catches your attention when Iwaizumi sits calmly by the window reading the paper and sipping on fresh coffee. Your eyes thread through his broad shoulders, poorly hidden under the fitted black social button up, rolled sleeves showing big, veiny forearms leading to strong, broad hands that seem even bigger when they engulf the coffee mug.

Hajime wears one ring, thick, black and a matching watch that probably costs as much as this whole place. You don’t need to see it to know his dark grey slacks are fitted; you’ve caught sight of it when he entered and you think there’ll be hell on earth before you forget how perfectly it hugs his frame, how delicious his ass is and how his waist is marked, beautifully, by the black belt. You thank the gods that he had already disposed of his suit jacket, or you’d be unable to survive so long.

 You’re probably drooling, so you tear your eyes from him to make yourself a hot cup of coffee and hope that you can pretend the flustered feeling in your insides is from the steaming caffeine quickening your heart. However, seeing as your eyes drag slowly back to him, you think that’s a lost battle. 

You drink a bit, breathe some more and decide to say fuck it. You’re not risking anything -- if he doesn’t want to talk, he can just say so. So you wash your hands, shed your apron and pick your coffee mug back up while walking to him. Before you even tread more than two steps, his deep, hard green eyes are already looking at you. They’re so impenetrable and focused, you wonder if he looks long enough, will he see your mind?

The thought makes your face heat up and you swallow the saliva pooling on your mouth before speaking,“mind if I sit?”

He nods no, but still answers, “go ahead.”

You slide on the seat in front of him, and for a second you regret your choice. Up close and with nowhere else to look, he’s even bigger -- his frame engulfs anything past his shoulders, his eyes demanding the sole focus of yours and you give it to him. But there’s a thought in your mind that helps you fight back the urge to let yourself slide and drown in the pool of deep green.

“So, I've been meaning to ask,” you tread carefully, knowing it’s a minefield ahead. You’ve been alone in this world with just your grandpa for a long time, and he was no saint. You’re no stranger to the fact that his diner has always been in mob-controlled territory. You’ve seen him bullied into paying back gambling loans too many times to not know how a bad man looks, and still, here you are, body warming and trembling just by the sight of what must be the baddest of them all.  “Were you friends with my grandpa or something?”

Iwaizumi looks at you, blinks and then hums a question, slightly furrowed brows his only sign of confusion. “Hm?”

“It’s just that I’ve noticed… that you seem like you’ve been taking care of this place… of me.” You speak while your eyes keep darting between his face and down, a warm feeling seeping from your eyes that makes his brain slow down, too caught up in watching you until he realizes he walked into a tricky question.

Fuck. Think fast, Hajime. 

“We weren’t exactly friends. But he was a mean card player and he got a lot of money out of me.” Iwaizumi speaks fondly, which is probably the only thing indicating that he isn’t here for some wicked king of payback. You nod while your brows slide up.

“I’m sure you also took a lot of money from him.”

“If I was lucky,” he pauses, “I don’t like to bet. But it was nice to play against him, even without betting.”

“I’m surprised he wanted to play without betting.”

“Rare occasions.” Iwa muses with a small smile in the corner of his lips.

Iwaizumi looks at you again, that deep stare as if he’s trying to catch your soul intent. “What I mean with that is… He never talked about you. Or having a family, for that matter.”

“Well… it’s like you put it. He was a gambler. And before he got good, he was bad. We struggled a lot with his debt while I was growing up. Once I left the house and I was working and got into college... he called me, asking for money.  He knew I had a college fund -- small, but you know, enough to get by for a few years. I gave some of it to him and I told him that if he was going to call me for money, it’d be better if he didn’t call at all, so… our relationship was pretty strained this last few years.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to say. So he tests around something he hasn't used in a long time, “sorry.”

“It’s fine. I just couldn’t possibly deal with his debt on top of mine, you know. And it was his choice not to call me for other reasons, so.” You shrug your shoulders, eyes downcast for a moment. If Iwaizumi ever knew how to console someone, he’d forgotten it a long time ago, but he’ll swear on his gun and every god above that he wishes he was sensible enough now to offer any kind of words that can resemble solace. He doesn’t know what you find in his face that makes you do a funny face, nose wrinkling, while smiling.

“It’s ok, I don’t hate him, you know. I just... He’s dead and I can’t help but think these things are in the past. Which may be fucked up but I’ve made my choice not to go through life with these demons.”

Iwaizumi nods, solemn. He knows a thing or twelve about going through life with demons and he wishes that you didn’t have to bear this even for the smallest of seconds. It gnaws inside your being, and the places where their claws sink usually fester. But, he doesn’t even risk thinking about what it’d be like for him to live without them -- they’re the closest to penitence for a whole life of sin he’s ever gonna get.

Talking to Hajime makes hours fly by like minutes. 

He’s not very talkative himself, but he’s a great listener and he gives you fair, honest answers so you try to do the same. You ask him about the old man, what he’d been doing, and Hajime doesn’t even blink while saying that he kept gambling until his death; tells you how he’d been worried that the diner had been offered as collateral to some debt and would fall victim of your grandpa’s addiction even after his death. You tell him about life after college, how disheartening and anxious it was, how you’ve struggled without finding a job and hustled your way together with Rei. You tell him how you’ve felt good to win the Diner -- the new ideas and purpose, the excitement and how fun it was to think about life like this -- a business owner. 

The one thing Hajime doesn’t tell you about is his job, which you feel is answer enough; and when you ask him about the late nights at the Diner, his lips quirk up and your heart quickens, whole body warming at how he tells you the diner has a special place in his life and that he doesn’t likes to sleep, only crashing once the sun come out.

He stays with you as you bid Rei farewell and close the restaurant, walks you to his car and drives you to your house. His car doesn’t move until you make it safe inside and only when your face comes to the window, does it starts to move away.

-

[to be continued]

[tenderdean]

i was talking to @andromedaskyline about how we just know whatever this ending is gonna be will be—well, a punch to the gut at best, but then it got us thinking about what kind of ending we want for dean and listen. listen.

when all is said and done, dean is alive and well, and he drives off into the sunlit horizon, and at the end of that road after however much time he needs to recover—

he starts a halfway house.

a halfway house for hunters, yes, but mostly for kids.

kids like claire and krissy and josephine, and alex and patience. kids that fell out of their normal lives and into hunting, with no feasible way back out. kids like dean.

it’s a place to crash and recuperate, where there’s a roof over their heads and a bed to call their own and a food-stocked pantry (it never runs low. dean never lets it run low.) but also: a waypoint.

dean’s still got sonny’s number, and if there’s one person who can help a kid find a future or a family or a purpose, it’s sonny. (it’s also dean—but he’s not used to advertising himself; it’ll always feel like overselling.) he sits up late at night working through college applications, scholarship applications, to help these kids through the nightmare that is lying convincingly on paperwork. he teaches these kids all the things he had to learn by his lonesome: how to cook, how to clean and mend clothes and treat wounds and hustle pool without getting decked in the face. and if they’re set on hunting—and he gets it, he does, because retiring was never an option for him when there’s lives to be saved, and he knows how—then he rolls up his sleeves and he teaches them.

hunters are a special kind of people, too rebellious for their own good, but he knows not to push. anyone can leave, but anyone can also stay. and when they do, he’s got things to tell them: the fastest way to decapitate a vamp and torch a wendigo, where to park their getaway car, which weapons to always have on hand and which to leave in the motel room, never to leave a case too early to miss something or late enough for the cops to get you. who to call when they do. basic skills, survival skills, but there’s nothing basic about them anymore when they’ve amounted to his entire life and he’s perfected them, had to perfect them to stay alive through it all.

he’s seen things, butted heads with things that go unmentioned in even the thickest of lore books, and he makes sure they know how to take all of them down, or else how to sweet-talk it back where it came from. he makes sure every kid knows the vampire antidote by heart. he also tells them about purgatory, and to think hard before mercy-killing anything into an existence of blood-slash-blood-no-rest-no-peace. some things can save themselves: if they want to, let them, but make sure they follow through. it’s about the saving, not the killing, and if the two of them become muddied you have to save yourself first.

dean has a bed for you, in that case. a bed and a mean burger and an ear tilted in your direction.

sometimes, sam calls: dean lets it go to voicemail, and that’s a gift to them both. dean will leave a voicemail of his own, in time. he’ll talk for however long he wants to, about whatever he wants to, answers the questions he likes and doesn’t answer those he doesn’t. talks about the kids, all the time, about how much he wishes he could’ve done this for kevin. there’s no interrupting in voicemail, no pointed glares, and the new routine is maybe the healthiest they’ve ever had.

he still goes out on hunts, as a teaching outing with the kids or to let off steam or because it’s an all hands on deck sort of thing. he can’t let himself get rusty, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t indulge: memory foam on his bed, a monthly road trip in the Impala planned and followed through with, a nice, slim pair of new boots perhaps more often than he needs. it’ll take a while, but someday in the future, he even goes to the beach. leaves the united states to do it, and comes back toasty and bug-bitten and about fifty tons lighter by way of his soul.

it evolves, as kids leave and new ones come in, because no one can leave dean’s house without his number. it becomes a hub. dean makes sure there’s a weapons arsenal in the garage, stakes of various obscure woods and silver bullets by the thousand and machetes besides. they’re all for borrowing—he’ll get new ones if some don’t return. the rest of the garage is divided: the impala and all that’s needed for her upkeep, and a workbench, a visor, a torch. he works on side-projects. lets his inner inventor out to play. EMFs that can detect hex bags, glasses that fracture the light just weirdly enough that no ghost can slip past the wearer unnoticed.

that’s how, in ten years, he’ll reinvent the Colt. he makes as many bullets as he can, and it’s expensive, slow work, but it’s the largest ace any of them have ever had up their sleeves and he wants it to be available to anyone who needs it.

knowledge isn’t something to hoard, not when it can save lives. and fuck if holding the world together with his bare hands more than once, more than twice, didn’t leave him with some unconventional wisdoms, some hard-earned truths and bits of trivia that could never end up being useful but also very well could. he’s prepared for that. makes sure his kids are prepared, too.

it’s not just the kids anymore, though, not when the hunters among them have branched out and met other hunters and the world knows his name, anyway, for all kinds of reasons, good and bad. his is not a name that slips someone’s mind when it’s mentioned in passing. hasn’t been for a long, long while, and that was never a good thing until this: until it just grows around him, not murder-plots or resentment or a heathy dose of fear of being associated with him, not like a snare drawing tight but a garden. (he keeps one, out back. hasn’t really got that much of a knack for it, but some of the kids like ripping roots out of dirt, and hell, so does he.)

it’s not replacing bobby. he doesn’t pretend to be the FBI superintendent or social services or someone’s lawyer, not when he’s not out there in a suit. when a phone rings, the person on the other end always knows his name.

it starts out messy, and it’ll always be messy, but it becomes more structured as they go. a demon case comes in: they’ve got people specializing in that, send them out. a rugaru: the same. and if it’s something that’s truly Out There, they send dean, and he’ll handle that. when he comes home, he’ll make sure that next time, it won’t be just him who knows what to do.

some kids start penning down comprehensive lore books, his dad’s journal with the volume turned up, with only the stuff that’s true and none of the fluff, the muddied waters. dean contributes to that more than he expects, at first, and suddenly they’re crowding and crawling around him, eager for his input. turns out he has a lot to say.

not enough for the kids, though, it seems, because they keep sneaking carver edlund’s books into the house when he has banned them, has made it a bold point on his penned-down list of house rules. he finds them stuffed under mattresses and as pdfs on phones. he burns what he can. but he also says, okay, all right, i’ll write a fucking memoir if that’s what it takes to get you people to stop smuggling this trash in. and he lays down the basics: azazel’s plot and meddling angels, an apocalypse or two, what’s there besides the earth and how to make sure you never go there. nothing warranting gaudy pulp covers with half-naked men on them. if anyone wants to know which brother did what, they’ll have to be damn good at reading between the lines, because dean’s too over it to point fingers, especially not when his words might stick around for other generations to read and judge and point their own. he doesn’t put his name on it. leaves it anonymous.

what he doesn’t count on are the notes in the margins, the whispered conversations after dinner or the glances he’ll get: that he’s the hero of that story, he’s just too humble to write it down.

he only yells about that once.

in the end, it’s like this: there’s no american men of letters, but there’s people of action, and they all cluster around the heart of the country where the drive is about the same to each coast, and at the heart of that is dean.

in the very, very end, it’s like this: his memoir goes into print, and there’s a preface telling his name in bold letters, and clarifying the details he had made sure to leave extra vague. if you’re in a roadhouse bar somewhere—and there’s more of them now, run by those who wouldn’t stay but wouldn’t leave, either—there’s a solid chance you’ll run into a dean or deanna or ten, and they can tell you exactly who they were named after and why.

but right now, it’s just a chance, something to build out of nothing, something he wishes he had back when. something to turn his north towards, to pour all his strengths in that have grown from pain and weakness. they do always say the best leaders are those who never wanted to lead. out of all the rubble, something that’ll hold up without him there to keep it together, though he’s the heart that beats in it, anyway. he’s the home it grew up in.

[dancingthesambaa]

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 13

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 13: The Apocalypse (But with More Bulls)

A group of children huddled together as they tried to escape the robotic drones that surrounded them in the ice cream shop. The streets were no longer safe as they had been filled with roaming Bull drones and they ripped and tore no matter what or who stood in their way. They hoped that they would be able to wait it out until help arrived, but they didn’t count on the drones coming into the building and finding them.

“AHHHHH!” They all screamed as the bulls began to leap at them.

SMASH! BASH! CRASH!

Their eyes widened as they saw the machines falling to the ground in bits and pieces until there was nothing left except for an ominous violet figure before them.

“S-s-stay away!” One of the older children nervously warned as she stood in front of them with her arms stretched out.

“Dude, he-she-they just saved our butts,” another child put a hand on her shoulder, “I think they are one of the good guys.”

“We don’t know that!” She argued.

“I mean, they are standing right there and haven’t attacked us yet sooo,” a younger girl pointed out. “Point in the good guy direction.”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“Wait, I know him!” They all snapped their heads to the youngest in their group as he ran up to the figure.

“Bao!”

“Wait!”

“Are you crazy?!”

“MAC MAC!” He grinned as he threw his body to him, “I am so happy you are here!”

The monkey said nothing as he caught the child and gently patted the child's head.

“Sooo, Imma go out on a limb here and say he's good,” said the girl with the prosthetic arm. She happily smirked at their groans.

“Oh yeah, he is my sister's former teacher, though I don’t think I've ever seen you like this,” he pondered.

“Clone,” the demon uttered.

“Clone?”

“Follow me,” he instead said as he walked to the door, “I’ll take you where it’s safe.”

“Really?”

“Awesome!”

“That’s a relief.”

“Can I bring some ice cream?”

The children all chatter with a bit more pep in their step as they trudge through the war torn streets and fallen buildings until they laid eyes on a set of buildings that looked relatively untouched by the madness surrounding them with a pristine white hospital building in the middle of it all. Some people were littered around the street, but when they stepped into the hospital it was a lot more hectic as not only doctors and nurses were bustling around trying to tend to as many wounded as they could. But there were also regular people trying to give a helping hand as they either did basic first aid to those who needed it or helped the staff collect the supplies they needed.

“Whoa,” they all collectively gape at the semi organized chaos inside.

“Bao!” The child looks to see Bohai's relieved expression, “thank the gods you and your friends are okay.”

“Mac Mac saved us,” he wiggled out of the monkey arms to get a hug from the jellyfish demon then he looked around the room. “Where’s Yanyu? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, she was working when this all went down, so she is currently in the back taking care of a bunch of patients. Are you all alright?”

“Just scrapes and bruises,” one of the girls says as she covers the mouth of the one armed girl. “You are not making another missing arm joke, you hear me.”

“Fine,” she huffed then she grinned mischievously as she looked at Bohai, “so do you guys need a hand, I can only spare you one though.”

“For the love of-!”

“Stoppp!”

“Nooo!”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she laughed at the agony.

“If you want to bring the staff some snacks and drinks, and yes I’m including everyone in this list, that would be awesome. They really need to pick me up right now,” he showed them to a small area where copious amounts of food and drinks were laid out. “People have been bribing them since this all started, but no one really had a break yet.”

“You can count on us!” The oldest girl saluted as she and the rest gathered snacks in their arms and began to spread out all through the hospital, except for Bao who was still holding onto the jellyfish. Even the clone Macaque had left had begun to venture through the hospital and began to help out a few patients.

“…is everyone else alright,” he whispered out in hesitation.

Bohai kneeled down and smiled, “I think they will be just fine, your brothers and sisters are smart after all. I know they will pull through.”

“Right,” he nodded and shared a grin.

“And we have people and demons looking for anyone who needs help,” that included his friends on the list as Daiyu took to the skies and over the seas, Minsheng and Ahmed took to the streets looking for stragglers, and Macaque leaping from building to building checking to see if there are any lingering people trapped inside. “So don’t worry about them, instead how about we focus on feeding some hungry people. I know how cranky they can get when their bellies are empty.”

“Like Yan Yan when she forgot to eat because she had a 30 hour shift and she tied us all up when we mentioned her leftover food in the fridge.”

“Exactly.”

“How does this keep happening to us!” Mei yelled out as she and MK were hanging onto the sword for dear life as they dangled above the pit of despair.

“I don’t know!” MK yelled too as he clung onto Mei’s legs. “How do we get down?!”

“I don’t know!” She adjusted her grip on the sword, “we are currently on our way to fight the Demon Bull King, one of Monkey King greatest enemies, with less than 2 weapons on us if you don’t count my daggers and your brass knuckles, the rest of our team still keeping the ones up top busy and-wait!” Mei’s eyes brighten, “not everyone!”

“Huh? Who?!”

“Macaque!” Mei could feel a breath of relief come through her, “he’s still in the city dealing with the other clones, but I think this warrants a higher attention.” If anyone, other than the Monkey King and MK, can stop the Bull King, it’s him.

“I don’t know,” MK flinched as Mei's head creaked to him and her eyes began to twitch.

“Oh no, we are so not doing this, I am calling fuzzbutt whether you like it or not,” she stated and she sucked in a deep breath.

“Wait,” he quickly climbed her and put his hands over her mouth, “we don’t need to call him, I can handle this.”

“Do you not see where we are?” She would emphasize their precarious situation, but she is currently holding onto the only thing that is stopping the both of them from becoming mush on the floor. “What is your problem with calling him for help?”

“Nothing,” he too quickly defended himself.

“Then you should have no problem if I call him.”

“You're not calling for him.”

I’m calling him.”

“No, you're not,” he argued.

“I am!”

“You're not!”

“Am!”

“Not!”

“Am!”

“Not!”

“Am!”

“Not!”

“Not!”

“Am! Wait-dammit!” He cursed as he got tricked.

“Ha! I win, and I'm calling him!” Mei grinned.

MK was about to refute her when he saw a terrifying sight above them. “Noooo.”

She raised her eyebrow as she turned to see what he was looking at and she almost let go of her sword as she saw hundreds of deactivated Bull drones stationary all over the walls and mere meters from where they were at.

“Shit.”

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

Mei’s phone buzzed quite loudly.

“Shit.”

Blue eyes lit up one by one as the drones quickly woke up at the sound as their heads all snapped towards the two lone humans.

“SHIT!”

“GHA!” Red son grunted out as he was flung back. He gritted his teeth as the sharp rocks pierced him, but he shakily stood up as he stood behind his mother, who was also silently huffing for air as the two of them faced down the enraged Bull King. He knew something was wrong, there had to be something, otherwise, his father wouldn't so carelessly nor even attempt to accuse the two of them of traitorous intent based on the barest of threads.

‘There has to be,’ he desperately thought as he silently looked at his hands and gripped it as it began to heat up. ‘But there is no defining evidence…I should have never taken that key.’ He regretted silently as they were once more prepared to go toe to toe with the Bull King when out of nowhere.

“AHHHHHHHH!” BOOM

MK lands face first into the ground.

“Noodle boy?!” What is he doing here?!

“Little thief,” Bull King hissed out as he then gripped his head and uttered. “Sun Wukong.”

Both he and his mother were startled by that admission as they couldn’t help but share a glance, as they passively watched Bull King begin his assault on the Monkey King successor.

Red son gritted his teeth as he watched his friend get pulverized by his father. ‘I have to do something, but what can I do? Something nefarious is afoot with father and yet I am standing here like a dame instead of helping MK. MK? No! No, I mean I have to help father snap out of whatever has come over him instead of beating upon my fri-noodle boy! Hurting noodle boy…he is hurting noodle boy…MK.” He snapped out of his thoughts when he saw the horrifying sight of the rage filled demon looming over MK with his fists raised high in the air.

“NO!” He burst into flames and charged forward, but was stopped by his mother as she swiftly sent out two airstrikes to the Bull King and used her fan to sweep the boy away from his demise and plopped him down next to the both of them.

“Wha-” he groggily got up as he looked up in surprise at Princess Iron Fan.

“It’s the canister, they have driven him mad with power,” she said as she hatefully eyed the glowing blue canisters upon the Bull King back.

“Well that’s a problem,” he blinked as he saw the skeletal remains floating about in the sludge of energy.

Then in a feral-like fury where only instinct took full control of body rather than the mind, the Bull King had snarled at them and began to charge on all fours.

“All right,” he used his staff to pick himself up, “time for round 2.”

“No, we fight together,” the prince said in determination as he readied his stance and was about to charge once more when another voice echoed.

“Seems like you guys can use a hand,” their eyes widen as they see the Bull King sink into the ground as a massive transparent violent hand of energy crushed him.

“Dad/Macaque!” MK and Red son cried out in relief as Iron Fan said it a bit more calmly as MK continued. “How are you here?!”

“Jade rang for me,” the voice echoed out as it continued its struggle against pinning the demon down. “Said some interesting things too.”

Mei's hands twitched anxiously as she waited for any sign of MK. She had just finished cleaning up the rest of the drones in the caves, but she thought it best if she kept here in case there would be any bot or people trying to sneak in to aid the nefarious family. Yet, that didn’t stop her from wanting to go down there and help her friend, no matter how stupid or dangerous that may be.

“You know what, screw this. Sorry MK, but we need all the help,” she gave a quick apology as she sucked in a deep breath and yelled, “MACAQUUEEE!”

Her voice vibrated through the walls.

She knew that she could have easily called him on her phone and he would have come just as quick, but that didn’t really matter in the long run as he saw a dark figure leap his way over to her. “Took you long enough,” she said with a small grin as he phased into the mech.

“Sorry, the city is in chaos as you know,” Macaque sarcastically said as he eyed her state to see any injuries.

“I’m fine,” she quickly said, “but MK is down there fighting DBK!”

“What!” His golden eyes that were tinted with violet eyes snapped onto her light green ones as all six ears twitched.

“Yeah, he didn’t want me to tell you, but I think we have bigger things to worry about.”

“Don’t want me-no,” he stopped himself short before he could go deeper. “Putting that to the side, for now, bigger problems first. Will you be fine if I go to your idiot brother.”

“I am currently inside of a monkey mech,” she deadpanned, “I am more than fine.”

He shot her a smirk and ruffled her already messed up hair and sunk back into the shadows and began to move deeper into the pit.

“Ahaha, about that,” MK nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“We are talking about this later.”

“Yeah that’s fair,” he slumped down.

Then a figure leaped out from the shadows of the Bull King as the Bull King rapidly gained back its bearing and destroyed the hand pinning it down.

Macaque whistled, “Well, I thought that it would at least keep you down a little longer than that, but apparently I’m wrong.”

“It’s the canister!” MK yelled, “they’re amplifying his powers.”

“You don’t say,” he muttered as he eyed the glowing blue power of energy then stared at it a bit harder as something felt off about it. “Somethings not right.”

Princess Iron Fan raised an eyebrow at his comment but quickly pushed it aside as she readied herself. “We can save questions for later, right now we have to get those off of my husband.”

“Right,” he nodded and his eyes went back to the Bull King who was getting up, “alright anyone got a plan.”

“Both Red son and I shall distract him, while the two of you get that monstrosity off him,” she said.

“Gotcha, you ready comet,” he summoned a few of his clones.

MK hesitated before nodding as he put his staff forward, “born ready.”

Then, without warning, the rest of the royal family burst into action as the two attacked the Bull King in a rapid fire as he was suddenly surrounded by a huge fire tornado.

“YOU SHALL FALL TOGETHER!” He roared out as he dispersed it with a loud crackle of energy.

Both of them, who was very much still injured and winded from their already long fight, were pushed back as they fell into the rubble. They slowly tried to get up as the glowing King stomped his way towards them.

His form seemed to almost ripple in anticipation as he locked his glowing blue eyes on their downed forms. No hesitation in his steps as the voices in his head urged him to finally end the traitors.

End the traitors

Destroy them for their treachery

Build a kingdom worth your name

Let their bones turn into ashes

Let their blood soak into the ground

Let their flesh set a reminder

You are the true king

“Yesss,” he hissed out his agreement as he raised his arms to finish them (ignoring the heavy invisible restraint against his arm and a small voice yelling at him to stop.) He would end this now.

Then his head was hit by a rock.

He snarled as he turned to look at MK, who was still in a throwing position.

“Hey, guess I’m a better pitcher than a hitter!” He joked, but then yelped as he felt himself get caught in the Bull’s hand.

“I’ve had about enough of you, one would think that you would learn more of the little sage tricks,” he snarled.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he shrugged.

Bull King snarled as he proceeded to squeeze him until he was nothing but bones and blood.

“Wait! Wait!” He cried out until he poofed out in a golden light.

“What!” He shouted as he looked at the falling hair, “a clone!?”

“Yup!” He looked to see the real MK in mid-air, “and I didn’t learn little tricks from only the Monkey King,” he grinned as he summoned a hoard full of clones.

He snarled and was about to jump up to meet them when he felt his hooves and hands being grabbed, he looked down to see many Macaque clones holding him down, while some were grabbing his hands.

“Get ready for a nice wake up call,” the real Macaque smirked as he kept into the shadow to keep a steady supply of energy to his clones.

“HERE COMES MONKIE KID!” MK cried out as he and his clones proceeded to all out attack the Bull King until the canister was finally knocked off his back and with one final burst of energy, it had dispersed.

Freedom

Freedom

Gather back

Become one again

Vessel

Freedom

The black furred monkey felt a shiver running up his spine as he heard the voices ringing in his ears. He looked around and sure enough, it seemed that he was the only one who heard the ominous whispers.

‘That wasn’t a normal power madness,’ he concluded as he realized what really happened. Before he could tell the rest he felt a gust of wind come about as the three demons proceeded to leave.

“Are you serious?!” MK panicked as the rocks began to fall down all around them. “You really just left us here!”

“Honestly not surprised,” he shrugged his shoulder and grabbed his kid by the back of his shirt, “now come on and let’s get out of here before the rocks do us in.”

“How?!”

BOOM!

They looked to see a giant Monkey Mech burst in as Mei smiled at them.

“Everything went well! Need a lift?”

“Mei!”

“Nice timing Mushu.”

“That was some fight huh,” Sandy said as he ate his noodles on top of the giant mech with everyone else. “But we managed to stop DBK.”

“Nice job defeating him MK,” Tang grinned as he slurped up the remains of his bowl.

“I don’t know, I don’t think I really defeated him,” he muttered as he fiddled with his chopsticks. “There was something weird, that power he had just made him…different.”

“But we won right,” she looked on the bright side.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” the historian appeared over Pigsy's shoulder and was casually grabbing some noodles from his bowl. “You don’t need this right sugar.”

“Get your hands off my food!” He pulled away from his lover as everyone around them laughed.

Amid their exuberant energy, they haven’t quite realized that the area was almost desolate with anyone else, including animals and bugs that usually roam around here. The only animal anywhere near them was a bird that perched right on top of one of the outer rocks in the clearing. It seemed to be in a tranquil state as it took in the scene, so it spread its wings to fly off when a voice stopped him.

“You know you could have jumped down and talked to them instead of standing there like an actual creeper,” said Macaque as he emerged from the shadow.

The bird gave him wide eyes as he instinctively transformed back into his original form, “Didn’t really think I should just go in there when all is said and done,” Wukong said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Wow, it must have taken a long time to think about that with the way you were sitting there,” he rolled his eyes and leaned against the rock.

“I’m not that bad,” he muttered and settled back down on top of the rock.

“Could have fooled me with the number of times you have a stupid idea.”

“Oh like you haven’t had one.”

“I have my own fair share, but it doesn’t even pale in comparison to yours, should I bring up the Kinnara incident,” he smirked.

“How was I supposed to know that she would kick our ass for interrupting her song,” he grumbled.

“Your ass,” he emphasized, “I had the common sense to stay behind, one would think not to mess with a being whose own gaze can pierce through you.”

“Didn’t seem that way to me.”

“Well, you didn’t have something called survival instinct.”

“To be fair I had plenty of instincts, but I just chose to ignore it back then and thought she was a harmless target,” he then shuddered, “so many regrets that day.”

“Pfft,” he chuckled lowly and Wukong couldn’t help but join in. He knew he was very stupid back then and so much more impulsive and looking back on it now, it is rather funny. But the laughter couldn’t last forever as it then died down as the atmosphere turned into an awkward silence.

Both monkeys knew they were avoiding the bigger problem at hand, but neither wanted to bring that up. At the same time though, they couldn’t ignore it forever, and eventually one of them will have to make the first step soon.

So Macaque opened his mouth and said, “Well if you ever feel like leaving your mountain other than stalking my kid, the forest is always open.”

“Really,” his eyes widened.

‘You really want to see me again.’ The silent question was asked.

“It is a public area, though you might want to bring starlight along with you if you want to see the not so public sights,” he said with a shrug.

‘Yes, I do.’ Was the silent answer.

“I’ll definitely do that! Maybe sometime next week?” He couldn’t stop his smile from growing widely.

“That work, well I got to get back. Too much damn medicine to make and that’s with my clone's help,” he grumbled as he pushed back off the rock.

“See you then,” he said with a short wave.

Macaque flippantly waved his hand as he sank back into the shadows.

Wukong grinned as he watched his friend's aura travel through his shadows until he had reached the city limits. It was only then he turned back into his bird form and took off towards his mountain once more.

“So the hospital is really that backed up again,” MK asked as he sat on top of the rooftop with his dad the next day.

“Like a car side swiping a train,” he groaned as he laid down. “I just got done helping not even an hour ago.”

“I bet Yanyu had to drag you out,” the monkey successor snorted.

“Nah, she was snoring in the back room, she passed the fuck out a few hours back after a successful surgery,” he grinned in pride. His student has really come far since he first started teaching her and to think that she had doubts about her ability, now look at her working alongside the attending physicians. He can still remember her running towards him and lunged at him with utter joy on her face when she told him that she passed her qualifying exam. He is really proud of her.

“She deserves it,” he nodded.

“She does,” the monkey hummed as he got up, “but I think it’s time we talk about that little thing back in the cave.”

MK nervously straightened up as he scratched the back of his neck, “hahaha what do you mean?”

“You are still a terrible liar comet, why didn’t you call me,” he looked him in the eyes.

“I was going to,” he mumbled, not sounding at all convincing.

“Really,” his voice dripped with sarcasm.

MK tried to keep a straight face, but it didn’t last long as he groaned and put his face in his hands, “Alright fine I wasn’t! But I could have handled it! You're always there and I know I can count on you, but something I need to do by myself. I’m not a child anymore.”

“And I know your not, and I have tried my best to not hound on you,” he said then he let out a sigh, “believe me when I say that I know I worry a little too much-”

“A little?!” Mei shouted as she lifted the hatch up.

“Mei! How long have you been there?!” The twenty years old shouted.

“Hehehe, long enough,” she nervously giggled as she slowly climbed out and sat next to her brother. She had forgotten she was eavesdropping on them and just had to blurt out. “Kinda forgot, but I still stand by my point.”

“I know, I mean ever since you left I've been trying to hold back from outright following you around,” he reluctantly said, not even blinking an eye at Mei’s sudden appearance.

“And I'm glad you haven’t, Mei already has a tracker on all of us,” he shot a glare at his sister.

“Wait really?”

“Yes siree!”

“…I feel like I should talk to you more about that kind of stalking,” he eyed her as he was forcibly reminded of another monkey and his stalking.

“Have you seen the number of times we unintentionally get into weird situations, let alone the times we actively seek it out?” She deadpanned.

“And I take that back,” he retracted his words. “But regardless, I trust you Starbright. I trust you even when I want to scoop both you and your sister up and hide you away from the world. But when shit like this happens, I get fucking worried cause that could have ended in a complete disaster, you understand?”

“But it didn’t!” He protested.

“But it could have,” he shot back and leaned in close, “and I’m so fucking grateful that it didn’t. Cause what if something did happen and the both of you wound up biting more than you could chew, fuck the two of you could have died and I wouldn’t have known shit until I saw your corpse.”

“I-I,” MK didn’t know what to say as he lowered his head alongside Mei. Both teenagers were at a loss of words at the reality of the situation, especially MK.

Macaque took a deep breath and let out a huge sigh as he brought both children close to him, “Look, I trust you to take care of yourself, but if you think you land in a situation you can’t handle, please call me. I know I sound repetitive at this point, but I stand by my fucking word that I will come, okay.”

Both of them looked up to meet their dad’s concerned eyes and nodded.

“You got it,” Mei smiled and leaned further into his fur.

“Okay,” MK sniffed as cuddled closer to him.

The black furred monkey smiled down at both of them and gave them each a kiss to the forehead and silently watched the bustling city below just a little longer.

“I’m fine my queen,” Bull King grumbled as he walked through the cave. “I sustained only minor injuries.”

“I know you have, but you were overtaken by a sinister energy source that managed to drive you mad with power that put your meridians past the point of exhaustion,” she deadpanned. “You need to rest.”

“It still doesn’t make sense how such a source can overtake father's mind,” Red son muttered as he looked through an ancient book. “I have heard tales of items having power from their previous owners and using it to their own design, but never of just raw aura. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“You're not wrong spitfire,” they turned to see Macaque phasing out from the shadow of a rock.

“Six Eared Macaque,” Bull King grumbled before he suddenly caught a bag that was thrown at him. “What is-”

“Spiritual roots from the Kunlun Peak, brew those in tea and they should help your median lines get back into condition before the month is up,” the monkey said as he walked closer.

“This is most useful, I will transfer the money-” Macaque cut her off.

“Consider this repaying the favor of saving my son Raki.”

“If I had not attempted to harm your child in my plight of madness there would be no need for this,” DBK gritted out and slightly lowered his head. He knew that the slight of offense of their agreement was on him and his mad conquest of power, if the Six Eared Macaque declared retribution for his actions then he would have to honor his word. What the outcome will be for both sides remains a mystery.

“Yeahhh what you did was stupid, but that’s actually what I came down to talk to you guys about,” he patted Red Son on the shoulder, “your kid is right about the power madness, what happen to you was not that.”

“What?” Both father and son blurted out.

“Explain,” the mother's eyes narrowed as her hand twitched.

“You were being possessed by one bitch of a spirit, what kind, I don’t know, but I do know the signs of possession when I see one.”

“How?”

“Was the different colored glowing eyes not obvious enough? His spouts of madness? Him going completely feral? Whatever you guys found is powerful, powerful enough to influence you BK.”

There was a silence as the surreal announcement enveloped them then someone growled as two craters appeared on the walls.

“Who dares think they have the audacity,” Queen Iron Fan hissed out as the wind began to swirl around her.

“I swear when I find the leech who manipulates me, I will tear their body limb from limb, bone to bone, blood into ashes and let their soul never find rest,” the King growled out in utter hatred.

Prince Red Son said nothing as sparks of fire flickered on and off around different corners of the cave and his hand trembled with fury.

The Royal Bull family does not take lightly to insults upon their names. They are known for sparking dread within people, making those fall to their feet, being a symbol of fear and power spread all through the nation and someone had the insolence to try to not only take control of their King but even fucking dare try to rip the family apart and kill them under his own hands?

They shall feel their wrath, this they declare.

“Well I have my message out of the way,” he wasn’t even fazed by their spirited anger, “Red a word.”

This snapped the prince out of his fury as he walked over to his pseudo uncle, “How may I help you?”

“Not me per say, but certainly my two kids who are worried the hell for you.”

“Their okay right,” he quickly questioned as he knew MK was alright but hadn't seen signs of Mei.

“A little bruised up, but they had worse, but my advice to you kiddo is talk to them. They have been worried out of their minds and I’m sure whatever you might have done they’ll forgive you.” He knew that Red Son wasn’t talking to them out of some sort of self doubt and guilt, but he wasn’t about to pry into what he did.

“You really think so?”

“You’ll have to ask them yourself.”

“…I will,” he nodded, “Thank you.”

“No problem, but let me tell you that since I have known you for a long time and I know you wouldn’t do abuse trust so lightly, especially from people you give a shit about, I’ll let you off with a light warning,” his eyes began to faintly glow a light violet color, “I may not know what you did, but don’t try to maliciously deceive them again, okay.”

“Yes sir,” he immediately said.

“Good boy,” he smirked and ruffled his hair, “now stop fucking around and send them a text before I duct tape their mouths myself.”

“They’ve been that bad?”

“I almost sicced Daiyu on the both just so they could do something else other than complain,” he deadpanned.

“…full permission to do the same if they get past that point,” he smirked.

“You don’t need to even ask me.”

“Yes!” He excitedly pumped his fist.

[itsclydebitches]

Ignore this if someone mentioned all this, but I feel an intense desire to bitch about V8's dead man bashing when I see it. Like, even before the plane, Ironwood told Clover to arrest Robyn if she interfered with their supply run, and he side-eyed Qrow and basically went "uh, yeah sure". You're tellin' me he'd go from "hesitant to arrest a thief even under direct orders" to "would bomb a city for no reason, actually"? Do not want. Leave the leaf alone and never mention him again CRWBY pls thx.

[Ray Holt meme voice] We've discussed this before and we'll discuss it again!

To add to this, RWBY's writing has a serious problem with retroactive knowledge. Meaning, info the characters get later is used to justify decisions made when they didn't have that information. When Robyn chats with Qrow and announces that he's the better huntsmen because he's doing "what's right," she's referencing everything that's happened since the air crash as well as what led up to it. Perhaps more importantly, her conversation banks on the audience's knowledge far more than her own. We know Ironwood shot Oscar, killed the councilman, helped hack Penny, has issued a bomb threat, etc. Robyn... knows none of this. She's been in the tundra and then in a jail cell, entirely ignorant of what's going on with the exception of Qrow's incredibly biased version of Clover's death. A declaration like this should clue the audience into the discrepancies here: "Hey, Robyn is talking nonsense because from her point of view Clover didn't do anything except try to follow the arrest warrant, she has no idea how bad Ironwood has gotten, and we know Qrow's recounting of the things she was unconscious for is... lacking." But instead, fans accepted these claims at face value because RWBY is a show where the writing doesn't distinguish - and the fandom also doesn't distinguish - between what characters know and when they know it. The idea that Clover would turn into a bomb-dropping villain is not only an unsubstantiated presumption, but it's built almost ENTIRELY on the audience's understanding of events, not Robyn's. Robyn essentially just goes, "Ironwood is a villain, so that means the guy who previously obeyed him was villainous too. You're the good guy, Qrow." The conversation banks on us, the viewer, filling in all of the "Ironwood is villain" gaps, supplemented with the knowledge that, yes, the other Ace Ops still chose to follow him for a time... ignoring that Clover is his own person who may have made different choices (like Marrow), that Robyn never learned why Qrow was under arrest in the first place, that she herself was never under arrest and only ended up in jail because she attacked first, that Qrow was found with Clover's body and blood on his sword but she apparently never worries about this like Harriet does, and that she's been sitting in a cell for the whole volume learning nothing and remaining ignorant to the fact that yes, Ironwood is actually that bad now. The fact that WE know Ironwood is a villain now doesn't justify Robyn's baseless assumption that he was last volume, or her ignorant assumptions that he is now. All Robyn should know at this point is that Salem arrived, Ironwood wanted to leave, Qrow was under arrest for some reason, she attacked first, got knocked out, was taken in with the guy who - according to all evidence present - killed Clover, and then just stews in her fury that she was arrested for... attacking Clover, resulting in an enemy escaping, a crashed airship, and his eventual death? Oh yeah, there's definitely no reason why she'd ever be taken in for that, and if Robyn had even a semblance of a decent personality she might have thought that through in her cell. Instead she functions as a mouthpiece for the story as a whole - look how evil Ironwood is, evil enough that anyone who ever believed in him would totally be evil too just not RWBYJNOR - rather than actually functioning as a character who reacts to the knowledge she does or does not have.

[wallgirl]

The Little Nereid Part 7

2700 words, part 7 of a ?15? part fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful.

Categories: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending; no NSFW content; graphic violence in future parts.

---

"Dynamene, may I come in?" A gentle knock sounded on Dynamene's door. She looked up from where she had curled up on her bed, reading. By now, it had been a few hours since Poseidon had left to hear the audience of her sisters. Perhaps that was what Actaea was here about now. Dynamene perked up at the prospect of finally being let in on the secret.

"Yes, come on in," Dynamene called, sitting upright and setting her book aside. Actaea entered with a smile, but there was something rather tense about it under the surface.

"We just had an audience with Poseidon," she began, sitting on the bed next to Dynamene.

"Yes, so I understand," Dynamene replied, her voice a bit miffed. "I don't understand why you all left me out of it. I was worried. What was it about? Did something happen?"

Actaea shook her head. "Nothing to worry about, Dyna. In fact, far from it. You see, we got permission from Lord Poseidon to go home for a month." Her smile widened.

Dynamene blinked at her, completely caught off-guard. "Go home for a month? You mean... to our family's palace?"

"Yes!" Actaea took hold of her hands. "Think of it as a final coming-of-age gift. You've been stressed out lately, right? A visit home will surely freshen your spirits. Don't you think?"

"I..." Dynamene's gaze searched the room, still processing the sudden news. What had brought this on out of nowhere? "I guess."

"A dozen of us will be coming along with you. Me, Ianeira, Eione, Thoe, Callianassa, and some others... We'll get to go and see our parents, our old friends, and Nerites. Oh, it's been a while, hasn't it? I'm sure he's grown even bigger now."

Dynamene couldn't help but smile at the mention of their younger brother. "You're right, I'm sure he has. It'll be great to see him again. When are we going?"

"Tomorrow!" Actaea stood and crossed to Dynamene's dresser. She began to open the drawers and pull out clothing. "We leave tomorrow afternoon. So why don't we get you packed?"

Dynamene gaped. "Tomorrow?"

"Yes! After breakfast. So come on. Which of these chitons do you want to bring?"

Dynamene's smile faded slightly. Why was Actaea acting so strangely about this? Maybe she was just tired. It had been a long day, after all.

Her eyes wandered to her jewelry, then to her mother-of-pearl bracelet. If she was going to be gone for a month... She wouldn't see Poseidon for weeks. Her heart sank. Of course another obstacle would come up as she was getting closer to him. She would have to wait to receive that second bracelet. She couldn't help giving a sigh of disappointment. Well, he was the one who had brought up getting her another; surely he wouldn't forget. Poseidon was a man of his word.

"What is it?" Actaea said, looking up from the trunk she'd begun packing for Dynamene.

"It's nothing important. It's just that..." Dynamene bit her lower lip shyly before continuing on. "Poseidon promised to get me a second bracelet this afternoon. It's not a big deal that we'll be gone for a while, though. I suppose he'll just have to give it to me when we come back."

Actaea stared at her, her expression almost disturbed. Dynamene stilled at the sight of her face. "What's the matter, Actaea?"

"Nothing, nothing!" Actaea turned back to the trunk. "Come over here and give me a hand, now. I can't pick out every peplos for you, now, can I?"

Dynamene slid off her bed with a hesitant giggle and joined her sister. "I suppose not. I'm not a little girl anymore, after all."

They'd only been folding robes for a few minutes in placid silence when the sound of the wind picking up outside gave them pause. "Is that the wind?" Dynamene asked, tilting her head to get a better listen. The sisters looked to the open window, whose drawn curtains were billowing with the breeze.

Actaea stepped carefully to the window and parted the curtains. Outside, the roaring waves were crashing with much more force than was typical. It was impossible to see anything in the heavy darkness of night, but the wind was blowing hard enough to cause a stir within Dynamene's room. The candles lighting the space sputtered and flickered under the sudden gust. Actaea quickly pulled the exterior shutters closed and latched them securely.

"Why is the ocean like that?" Dynamene whispered. "The weather doesn't seem like anything unusual... It's not raining, is it?"

"No," Actaea sighed breathlessly, dusting her hands off. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. Ten-to-one it'll pass within an hour. Let's finish getting you packed."

Dynamene's stare didn't move from the shuttered window. The wind continued to whistle through cracks in the wood. "Right," she replied slowly.

---

The next morning, heavy rain had joined the churning ocean to produce a full-blown storm. Dynamene peered out her window with uncertainty. Although it was well into the daylight hours now, the sky hadn't lightened much from the previous night. Would they be able to travel in weather like this? Surely they wouldn't be able to safely navigate the seas in their spirit form with waves that high.

"Perhaps Poseidon could calm it down for us," she whispered to herself as she pinned a hooded cloak snuggly about her shoulders. Picking up her packed trunk, she cast one last look at her room with a sigh. It would be a month until she returned, and she was already strangely homesick for it.

She joined the rest of her sisters at the dining hall. The other Nereids that were coming along were dressed in travel gear as well. The din of conversation and chatter did little to drown out the rush of rain outside. She spotted Ianeira, who was wringing her hands as she stared out a tall window. "I guess we won't be seaing this journey, will we?" She asked, stepping closer to join her.

"No," Ianeira answered, turning to face her. "We'll be going by land; by carriage, to be more precise. You're all packed?"

"Yes," Dynamene said, lifting her trunk to show her. "All ready."

"Perfect. We'll leave right after breakfast, then." Ianeira turned to take a place at one of the banquet tables.

The same sense of uneasy that Actaea had carried with her the night before returned to Dynamene. She stared after her eldest sister in confusion before making the decision to call out. "Ianeira?"

"Yes, Dynamene?" She replied, turning back around.

"Is... this trip really about my birthday?" Dynamene ventured, her brow furrowed in suspicion.

"Of course, Dynamene. What other reason would we have for going?" Ianeira answered smoothly. There was no hesitation in her voice, and Dynamene struggled for a suitable response.

"I... I guess it's just that..."

Dynamene's voice trailed off as the rapid clicking of heavy boots approached the dining hall. All of the Nereids got to their feet, taken aback by the sudden appearance of their master.

Poseidon stood in the entrance to the hall, his imposing figure emitting an aura that filled the space around him with unease. His eyes were dark today again, and there was a detached air to his gaze. The Nereids waited with a heavy silence for him to speak.

"Hades is coming to visit later today. Those of you who will be staying behind must see to your duties as soon as possible." His tone was flat and cool.

This set off a chain reaction of murmurs and gasps. Hades had only visited twice before in all the time the Nereids had served Poseidon, and those had been in times of crisis. What could possibly warrant him visiting now?

"Has something happened at Olympus, do you think?" One Nereid whispered. Dynamene stared at Poseidon in fright. A sinking feeling began to settle in her stomach. If a visit from Hera meant bad news, a visit from Hades meant disaster. What was going on?

Evidently, Poseidon felt no reason to explain further, because he had already turned around and was walking back down the dark hallway. Throwing restraint to the wind, Dynamene clenched her jaw and ran after him.

"Dynamene, wait!" Ianeira cried, reaching for Dynamene's cloak. But she was already far out of reach, and she caught nothing but air.

---

Dynamene sprinted down the black hall, trying to decipher which way Poseidon had gone. "Poseidon!" She called, looking around. "I mean, Lord Poseidon!" She halted at the intersection of two hallways, shoulders sinking hopelessly. He had seemingly vanished into thin air. She had no chance of finding him in the dark like this.

"Return to the dining hall," his voice sounded from behind her, and she jumped. How had he crept up on her like that? Whirling around to face him, she saw a familiar old chill in his eyes. She tried to search his gaze, but his eyes weren't focused on her. Cold disbelief began to course through her veins.

"Lord Poseidon, please, what's going on? Why is Lord Hades coming here? Please tell me, I'm worried," Dynamene begged. "He only visits when something bad has happened."

His expression changed naught, even at the sound of her worried pleas. "It is none of your concern. Now go back."

Dynamene's expression crumpled at the familiar sound of detachment in his voice. It was one she hadn't heard in a few weeks; not since the day of her birthday. What had changed in the past night?

"I... I'm worried about you," she tried once more. But she already knew her placates were in vain. He wasn't even looking at her. He didn't see her.

"Enough. I don't have time for this," he responded sharply. "Go back now." He turned away from her.

She stared at him in shock. Why is he like this all of a sudden? Does it have to do with Hades visiting? Or is it something that I did? Her lower lip trembled at his harsh words, and her throat grew tight.

He halted, but she turned away from him in humiliation. She couldn't let him see her cry. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

To her shock, he took hold of her shoulder and turned her back to face him. She continued to stare at the ground, refusing to look at him. But he rose one strong hand and smoothed a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. The gesture forced her to stare up at him in disbelief. His expression was still sullen, but his eyes were softer than before.

"Do not worry about Hades's visit," he said, his voice quieter than before. "I have already spoken to him. It has nothing to do with any catastrophe or emergency. Just another pointless visit from a sibling." Having made sure the lock was perfectly tucked back in place, he drew his hand away.

She rubbed her tears away with a shaky fist. "You know, I find it hard to believe that," she said, trying to force her voice to remain steady. It was a useless struggle; she was too overcome with a strangely bittersweet emotion. "But I guess I have no choice but to." And without any further ado, she threw her arms around him.

Poseidon froze as she embraced him. Had anyone ever embraced him like this? No, it was too brazen and unexpected. He looked down at her in disbelief. He could feel the soft skin of her face resting against his chest, and the damp sensation of the tears that lingered on her cheeks. Her arms were too weak to really squeeze him, but she clung tightly to him, as if her life depended on it.

Dynamene exhaled, allowing herself to relax against him. This was her solace. The roller-coaster of emotion that she had suffered the past few weeks meant nothing now. She could hear his heartbeat for real now, not just sensed from a distance away. His body was muscular and firm, unyielding against the softer shape of hers. It was like nothing she'd ever felt before, and she didn't want it to end.

But she knew she had crossed the strict boundaries he kept, so after just a few far-too-brief moments she pulled away. "I'm sorry," she whispered shyly, her face glowing pink with daring. "I'm sorry, I... I will see you later, Lord Poseidon." She didn't dare look at his face as she quickly drew up the hood of her cloak and dashed back down to the hall to rejoin her sisters.

Poseidon looked down at his chest where the remainder of her tears dotted his skin. Her tears were just seawater, no different from the splash of the ocean he was used to feeling. Yet, somehow, these droplets were entirely different. How was it that they seemed to each hold a whole world, a whole unspoken tale, within?

He brushed his fingertips gently against the wetness and brought his hand before his eyes. Tears were for the weak, from the weak. He had no use for them. Tears were a wasted effort that yielded no results except to advertise one's cowardice. He'd never cried, even as an infant, and no one had ever cried for him. That was the way he preferred it; an unyielding, solid reality without the soft give of emotions like these. And yet, these soft teardrops...

He clenched his fist around them, holding them tight. Not out of weakness or cowardice, but for some other completely different reason...

She had cried them for him.

---

"Dynamene, what were you thinking?!" Ianeira cried, grabbing Dynamene by the shoulders as she returned. "Poseidon is clearly not in the mood to be trifled with."

"It's alright," Dynamene said softly. "I... I just told him that I was concerned. But he said it's nothing to worry about." She hid her face in the hood in an attempt to conceal the redness of her eyes and the lingering blush on her cheeks.

Ianeira sighed in exasperation, examining Dynamene's expression. "Very well. The carriages arrived a little bit ago. We should head out now, in case the storm gets worse."

The dozen Nereids that were joining Dynamene on her excursion home quickly got the luggage loaded into the carriages. The outside world was all gray and dim underneath the rain. Dynamene stared out at the sea, captivated by the angry churning of the waves and the crashing white crests. The ocean was never this upset near the palace, where Poseidon's influence kept it calm. Could it be that his mood was affecting it?

"We're all set now, Dynamene," called Eione from the nearest carriage. "Come on." She held out a hand.

Dynamene pulled her cloak tighter about herself and allowed Eione to help her up into the carriage. "Are you all set?" Eione asked. "Better get tucked in well; this weather's not friendly at all." She produced from one chest a thick blanket that she deftly wrapped about the two of them. She leaned out of the carriage just enough to call to the rest of the caravan. "Dynamene's here with me, we're all set to go!" A few moments later, the wheels of the carriage gave a creak and they began their bumpy journey away onto the less-traveled dirt road that led away from the palace through the mountains.

Dynamene looked back through the rain-covered window at the palace, gray and looming in the dismal weather. She was reluctant to leave. If the ocean was a sign of Poseidon's true disposition, things didn't bode well. But what could she do to help anyways? She had nothing but her words to offer, and she had no idea what was troubling him. If it wasn't the prospect of Hades coming, what was it?

She turned back to sit properly, adjusting the blanket around her. Resting her head against Eione's strong shoulder, she allowed herself to close her eyes and relax. I'll be back soon. After this trip, I hope we won't be apart for a while to come.

And you know, when I come home, maybe, just maybe, you'll wrap your your arms around me too.

---

Author’s Notes: Aughhh Why was this one so strangely difficult to write? This part kind of took on a mind of its own in the middle. Poseidon and Dynamene weren't originally supposed to have a conversation here, but because of how things are going to develop later, I decided to have them together here. I think I made the right choice. Dynamene finally got to hug him, so I guess that's a milestone.

Hades is comingggggg No, it's not because of some huge disaster or gory conflict, this isn't that type of fanfic. Poseidon was telling the truth about that much. We've only had one chapter of Hades in the manga, but I actually felt like his character was easier to grasp than his younger brother's, so I don't think he'll give me too much trouble.

From here on out, the plot will get a lot more actiony; a lot of things are going to happen. We'll also be seeing Aphrodite in the near future, about three parts away. In total, there will be about eight parts left. I'm looking forward to finally putting the pieces of everything together for a draMATIC climax.

To my tumblr readers: this fanfic is also on ao3 now, under the same title. I will be updating there first from now on, so please look for it there. Thank you!

[criticalroleisdestroyingme]

Oh Death

She said to me

"Oh, Death

Come close my eyes, woah"

I know, I'm more fool than wise

After losing the Mighty Nein in Nicodranas, Astrid and Eadwulf are sent on their next assignment. Tracking a loose end in the Frozen North, they stumble across a few more surprises, and the pieces start to add up.

The aforementioned songfic of "Oh Death" by SUGR?. Canon divergent at the end of C2E131. Written from the perspective of a highly angsty Astrid with plenty of Blumendrei and Shadowgast. Advice for Essek based on this post by @slayerscake.

A note to those who count the words of Sending - I kept it accurate to where Matt took a pause for Astrid’s Sending back to Jester, of 26 and 24.

Read more below!

Oh, when I see her looking at me

You best believe

She's only looking past me

What a mess Bren left behind him before he again vanished to the North. It took a full day for Trent’s ire to settle from a raging forest fire into a controlled burn, sending his operatives to seek out their trail. Curiously, Trent did not allow any others into his vault to pick up any trace of Bren - he must have found the amulets, otherwise the search would have been simple. It didn’t take a spymaster to determine what else Bren must have spirited away to send him on such a determined chase, and Wulf quickly agreed that whether intentional or not, Bren now had in his possession the most damning evidence of the enhancements all Volstrucker wore beneath their skin.

Was this their chance to finally…? Bren hadn’t reacted the way she hoped during their meeting, eyebrows furrowing as she had quietly whispered her seditious musings in his ear. He didn’t trust her, didn’t trust them, of course he shouldn’t, Wulf added. She bitterly hoped their actions in Nicodranas would cement that trust, but maybe Bren no longer operated on their wavelength. He couldn’t, shouldn’t allow himself to trust his compromised classmates, only using them for his ends before moving on to that thing that was so much bigger, so much nobler. His eyes never truly met hers as they waltzed, staring through her skull, focused on his own goals, convinced he would be saving the world. She had shared the contents of the meeting with Wulf, of course, but not that wave of guilt that had surged through her for forcing her ambition onto him, collapsing in the alleyway after leaving the dancehall. He had moved on, had so many bigger things to deal with than the crimes of a single man and petty politics.

After dispatching two agents to the coast to board a ship, she was again summoned to Trent’s side with Wulf. Darktow, really Bren? The ruse had seemed so obvious from their clandestine conversation about his goal, but her master was determined to contain the leak and to Trent, no lead was worth overlooking. Trent had hissed that their next assignment was to pay a visit to that Crick loose end, since they were clearly too compromised to be trusted with more important missions. The traitor’s position was confirmed via scry to be in the heart of Eiselcross - fortuitous to be so near to Bren’s destination. Maybe after they dispatch the Shadowhand, they could seek him again, Wulf suggested, and finalize plans to rid the world of another corrupted mage.

She said to me

"Oh, Death

Come close my eyes, woah"

I know, I'm more fool than wise

Her trail goes cold a few hours after they pass through the mountain range ringing the crash site of Aeor, but they’re nearly to Kryn outpost, which was still the best place to check first. Recent reports indicated the drow was getting twitchy (reasonably so, she thought), so it came as no surprise that he had procured divination wards on his latest visit back to Ghor Dranas. Strange that he had not engaged them until after his position was reconfirmed in the frozen north, and the coincidence tickles the back of her mind. She and Wulf decide to press on towards the outpost regardless - to relay this to Trent before confirming the target’s position by eye would earn them a scathing reply.

Easily obscured by invisibility, they slip past the spires of ice ringing the Xhorhassian outpost once they arrive. After around fifteen minutes, they spot the Shadowhand as he exits his chambers and rushes to the storerooms, reemerging a few minutes later with supplies for travel and a heavier mantle. Good, it should be a simple task to take out him and whatever scouts accompany him, rather than dealing with the entire outpost. He lingers outside his chambers, discussing something with the captain of the guard too quietly to be heard from their position on the outskirts. Wulf creeps forward to listen in as she maintains her position, memorizing the guard patrols out of pure habit. She’s making a mental map of the outpost when a familiar but unexpected voice creeps in.

“It’s me… Jester-” whispers into her mind, followed by… a fit of giggles? “Hey, I don’t know if you’re alone. If.. you’re.. not-” another fit. How did Bren’s companions get anything done? “-and you’re following us…” the longest pause yet. Should she start her reply? What did the woman even want? As she opens her mouth to speak, eyes on the perimeter for any unforeseen patrols, it finally comes in. “Clear your throat,” she chokes out amid giggles, “if you’re not following us.”

“I’m so very…” lost? Disturbed? Overwhelmed by the lack of any meaningful information presented in those twenty-five words? “Confused.” She settles on. “What did you say?” Entertaining further conversation in spite of her location may not have been wise, but she couldn’t help herself, needing to know Bren’s next move.

“Sorry-” Warranted. “I need to know if you’re following us. If you know where we are. What’s the plan with you guys? Hope you’re alone! If you’re not-” the message cuts out. She rubs her temples, considering her response a moment. How to impress upon her the importance of what her party now carried with them, what she wanted them to accomplish? This was going to take more than one message, she thought, pulling her wire free from her components.

“A Volstrucker has never disentangled from Trent before. No one who knows what he does, how he breaks us, has shared their trauma with the world,” effortlessly continuing her response with another Sending, “with the king. Imagine the threat you are to him, now that you carry respect of both Crown and Kryn. So, yes,” she concludes, “he’s invested.” Was it enough? No further response.

“Who was that?” Wulf’s voice shocks her as he returns, still cloaked in his invisibility.

“Bren’s companions. The tiefling.”

“Ah,” he grunts. Lingers in silence for a moment. “Will he…?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. Glad to still be invisible, despite Wulf knowing exactly the look on her face. Probably has the same look on his. Her hand reaches out, contacting his upper arm blindly, then gives it a rub. “Later. Our target?”

“Too far, too quiet. Something about the ruin; an entrance his rangers are guarding.”

“Well then, we will have to make our move during his journey to them,” she replies, not keen on chasing this wizard into the depths of Aeor. A grunt of agreement, and they settle together, crouched on the icy ground, awaiting further movement of the traitor and his forces. A few more minutes and the guard captain nods and walks away, barking orders in Undercommon to his men, and the Shadowhand floats alone outside his door. His hand raises to knock, lowers, raises once more, then softly taps the door before opening it.

“He’s not alone in there,” Wulf interprets easily. She squints her eyes, trying to block the glare of the snow and ice to spot the reason for his hesitation, but the low-lit room gave up no secrets before the door closed behind him. Another minute and the door reopens, and neither Volstrucker notices the Shadowhand’s relaxed shoulders as he drifts out, sucking air through their teeth at the sight of who follows him.

Oh, I- I- I- I- I- I- I never wanted anything as little as I want this now

Oh, I- I- I- I- I take my pistol, gonna make you proud

“We should have known, we should have fucking known-” Wulf spits as they tail the group to the northwest, the pair’s white cloaks obscuring them well at this distance.

“Shh! Let me think.” Her words bite at her own tongue, mind racing. It was so obvious - Bren’s party spent so much time in Xhorhas, were so close to the Bright Queen herself that their word alone was enough to halt a full scale attack on the capital. Of course they would know the Shadowhand, at least know of him, and with their connection in the North from the Empire extinguished, of fucking course they would be allying with the Dynasty once more. The source of the Shadowhand’s protection from divination was now also unfortunately obvious - he had been recruited by the team to go stop the supposed end of the world.

This was going to get messy. It would be impossible to take out the Shadowhand without alerting Bren to their presence. How could they convince Bren to work alongside them to expose Trent if they ended up in battle against him? “Scheiße,” she hissed, Wulf growling in agreement.

She wondered what the Shadowhand would be getting in return for his assistance. Protection from the assassins hot on his trail? Yes, but surely this master manipulator would have gotten more out of the deal than that. The drow had fooled his entire country, betrayed his own religion, just for the sake of some arcane research.

She smirked, jaw clicking into place. That’s it. He’s a traitor to his own nation. Make him confess to it, surely Bren would want him dead as well after learning their ally was a conspirator with the Assembly, had stolen the beacons his group worked so hard to return to the Kryn. They could still make this work, and come out of Eiselcross both having completed their current mission and securing Bren, all of them, as allies in their next.

Wulf growled again, pulling her from her thoughts. Looking back at the Shadowhand, he had fallen in line with Bren and was conversing while they pressed onward, taking comfort in a glowing orb he held outside his mantle. Bren had moved in shoulder to shoulder with the drow, leaning in and wrapping his hand around the drow’s forearm in a supposed bid to get closer to the source of light. His group carried on ahead of them, saying nothing as they snuck glances back towards the pair. She felt her cheek burn where Bren had previously leaned his face on hers during their waltz. Wulf was saying something but the blood pounding in her head was far too loud.

She said to me

"Oh, Death

It's way too wet on your cheeks to be nothing"

But what does she know?

Really, what does she know?

The troupe had slowed for a short rest now, and she crept closer unthinking, Wulf trailing behind her. The cold wind whipped her hood back and pulled her light locks free, carrying snips of conversation back to them. “The- I’m sorry, the lesbians?”

“Yes, Yasha there and Expositor Lionett. They’re quite capable on the frontline, and often I find the best means of dealing damage to the enemy is through enhancing their abilities and staying out of sight. So ja, buff the lesbians.” Concluding with a pat on the Kryn’s forearm, Bren appeared to finally spot his hand’s location and jolt back, sheepish grin mirroring one she had not seen for years since she caught him and Wulf outside her dormitory door with a bottle of whisky and a proposal. That pink tint to his cheeks is visible from here, betraying his intentions so plainly. Betraying them. Betraying her.

“I- I see. Any other... tips I should be aware of?” the Shadowhand had asked, looking to the rest of the group and quickly pulling the orb back towards himself once Bren had released him, before thinking and proffering it to the others. Her own cheek stung still. To her side, Wulf reached over and too-gently touched it, rubbing away a layer of ice built up. The half-orc sat up from his resting point across from them, putting his hands towards the orb without any comment on the pair’s previous position.

“Ah, yes - while Jester is a cleric,” he intoned, leaning towards the blue tiefling gently, “try to go unconscious near Caduceus.”

“Fjord!”

“What?! You prefer a more… proactive approach to battle!”

Soothing with a hand on her shoulder, the gray firbolg also leans in and places a teapot atop the orb. “The Wildmother is interested in preserving the natural cycle of life, and if it is not your time, She will not let you pass. At least, not while I have anything to say about it.”

Bren had pulled away now, eyes softening as he looked between the drow and the rest of the group. She drew a wire from her pocket and she took a breath, steeling herself before casting Sending once more.

“Bren.” He stiffened stick-straight. “Do not be alarmed. Wulf and I are approaching your position.” She paused. “Just us. We wish to speak.” She does not trust herself to use the remaining words without stumbling.

“Caleb? Trent again? Or...” The Cobalt Soul expositor perked up, but Bren had lifted a hand to her and shook his head.

“Astrid.” Came clear into her mind as she heard the monk curse in the distance. “If it is just the two of you, please approach. I’m sure our company raises questions.” A pause of his own. “You could have told Jester you were here.”

Overlapping Bren’s voice, Wulf whispers, “What are you doing?” but she’s already stood tall and pushed her hair from her eyes.

“Just trust me.”

Oh, I- I- I- I- I never wanted it to be this way

Oh, you know I- I- I- I hold on to everything you say

“Shadowhand to the Bright Queen, Essek Thelyss. Please meet my, ah, associates Astrid and Eadwulf of the Dwendalian Empire.” Bren gestures. They had all stood as the Volstrucker approached, remaining in their previous circle, but the halfling had drawn her crossbow from her hip and the dark woman had also unsheathed a gleaming blade.

Careful with his words, as if his present company could be spooked like a horse, the Shadowhand spoke with low, smooth tones. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” His eyes betrayed his tone, flitting towards each of Bren’s group in turn. “To what do we owe this visit?”

She smiled coolly. “There is no need for deception here, Herr Thelyss. In fact, it would benefit us all to be forthright. You needn’t pretend this is our first encounter.”

These words should have shook the Kryn to the core, so blunt and expository, the jaws of her trap slowly ratcheting open. His demeanor had not shifted, however, as Bren glanced between the two. “Fair enough, Madam Beck.” The Nein jumped slightly at this, far more than her initial reveal. Had Bren never shared her last name with his companions? “And Mister Grieve, I assume you are well?”

“Well enough in this frozen waste,” was Wulf’s gruff reply, arms crossed to the left and slightly behind her, but within her field of view.

“Then please, join our circle,“ came Bren’s voice, shaking surely due to the cold. She stepped forward at the invitation, and took the space to his other side, the halfling stepping aside but cautiously keeping a hand on the base of her crossbow. “Come now, Veth, there’s no need for that among friends.” Wulf stepped through the circle, taking a position next to the firbolg he liked so much during that dinner before. “We have plenty to share, and I’m sure they do as well.”

Bren always had such a way with words, she thought. Certainly better than Wulf, a perfect voice to tug at one’s heartstrings. He could say so much with so little. If there is any love left between us, cursing his words as they came back to her. Perhaps he was even greater a manipulator than the spymaster to his right. Plenty of love was left, it seemed, but how much belonged to her?

“Ohmigosh Astrid, we are so happy to see you! Why didn’t you say you were close before? We could have been traveling together this whole time!“ the tiefling bubbled, a little too enthusiastically. She was no fool.

“My apologies, Jester.” She gave another cool smile, then directed her gaze around Bren to settle on the drow once more. “There were matters we had to confirm before we could make our presence known to you and Bren.” He stiffened alongside Bren, glancing down at the other wizard with a question in his eyes, and her smile turned slightly more predatory. “Herr Thelyss, might I inquire as to your business in Eiselcross? Seeking additional Beacons, I presume?”

The level of confusion did not rise in the group as she expected, however. The Shadowhand’s eyes narrowed and turned back to her as she pressed further. “Had the Martinet not already promised to share our research?”

“Astrid.”

Bren stepped forward, blocking her line of sight to the Kryn.

“Caleb, please.” A dark hand touched his shoulder (how dare he, her fingers twitched), pushing the man back towards his previous position. “Madam Beck,” he continued, “your insinuations would be quite dangerous in almost any circle but this one.” His shoulders back, he lifted slightly higher off the ground. “I am not interested in being toyed with. Clearly you were sent to dispose of me, so go ahead. Complete your business. But do not waste my friends’ time with your attempts to reveal that which is no longer concealed from them.”

He knew? Bren fucking knew? They all knew what this man had done and walked out into a frozen hellhole with him? Showed him trust, and affection of all things? Her mind swam, staring her target in his face as she searched for any fracture, any sign of weakness. He can’t possibly have told them everything. How could they forgive him for starting the war they had foolishly pledged to end on their own? How could Bren trust him, but not-

“It’s true, Astrid.” Bren said softly in that verdammt voice. “We caught on before the peace talks out at sea. Lord Dezran Thain,” he gave the honorific a teasing lilt, “was a bit too careless. He should not have chosen to be a lord in a city in which he did not know of its main attraction.” He smiled towards Jester.

“Yeah, I don’t know of a single person from Nicodranas who doesn’t know my mamma. Sorry Essek,” she winked at him. He gave an awkward smile in response. Silence hung over the group for a moment.

Wulf finally piped up again. “Well, you’re correct that we were here to kill the Shadowhand.” The group quickly tightened at his words, apart from the firbolg who still stood beside him casually, focused on making tea in that pot on top of the orb. “But... how we do that now is a mystery to me.” His lazy glance cast over her, then Bren, then narrowing briefly on the traitor. He gave a shrug as he unceremoniously sat in the snow. “So let’s talk.”

“Yes, I think there’s much to discuss,” the firbolg said, pulling the now-warm pot from the orb and beginning to pour cups. He smiled towards her sympathetically, somehow looking through her and reaching across the circle with a mug before sitting back and offering another to Wulf. She took it delicately, glancing at the pattern of soft petals on a dark branch.

As the other cups were passed out and the group slowly sat back down, Wulf popped open his flask and poured his whisky into the cup until it reached the brim, then capped it and flicked it across the circle to her. Barely looking up from the cup, she caught the flask mid-air with practiced precision, choosing to take a swig from it directly rather than sullying the tea. A calloused hand with blackened fingertips entered her view from the left as she tilted her head back down. Requesting, but not demanding. Too kind, too tender, and it made her heart ache as the liquor burned her throat. Not meeting his eyes, she passed the flask along.

“Prost.”

Oh, k- k- k- k- k- keep your pity to yourself

Oh, I'll make you wish that you didn't love someone else