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thewhumpcaretaker · 4 months ago

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No because if Chad Stahelski doesn't drop the Impossible Task, I will write it myself and it'll be WickedSaint. I even have ideas, so Chad... gimme, but I'll still write my version bc yes. I need desperate Santino, I just need Santino feeling proud bc John Wick asked HIM for help (crush asked him out, date idea was killing ppl <3). Imagine, Santino was trying to prove himself to his father, who always had higher expectations, and apparently nothing was good enough, but then JOHN WICK THE BOOGEYMAN asked specifically Santino for help. His father must be rolling in his grave but fuck him, Santino was suffering. And the trust between Santino and John, you could see in the movie how much they trusted each other (until that trust got unfortunately broken). So something definitely happened, John doesn't just trust people. Yes, the marker and all that but still there was some level of respect. (And kissing).

I yapped a lot but I wanted to hear your thoughts on the Impossible Task AHAH

Soooooo I learned a little bit about how to write a film treatment (a kind of outline written before the script) and I went ahead and wrote one for The Impossible Task! I tried to make this completely canon-compliant and something that Chad Stahelski could actually make without breaking his franchise (even if he won't T_T). So, it's short and action-packed, and isn't exactly how I'd like to think things happened, but it fits better with the John Wick movies somewhat than what I usually write for wickedsaint. I have a lot of conflicted feelings about it, especially with how it compares Helen and Santino, but I did my best. This was fun to make!!

P.S. it also relies on some of the plot points from @mrssimply's story, because I'm not that good at coming up with what the impossible task was actually all about. I think she wrote that it was about killing all the crime lords in the area at once, and I reused that idea.

♥♥ The Impossible Task ♥♥

Log Line: John Wick asks his former lover to help him one last time in escaping the business, resulting in a nostalgic, heartbreaking postmortem on their doomed love affair.

TW: canon-typical violence, alcohol, homophobia from Santino's father, what could be interpreted as suicidal ideation from Santino but it's not overt

We open on a dreamy sequence, similar to the opening of John Wick Chapter One. It's cutting between a young John Wick in the Tarkovsky Theater, reading The Little Mermaid (the sad, Hans Christian Anderson version), and a young Santino reading the same book. Santino is dressed in all black, and so is John. Eventually we see that Santino is hiding from everyone at his mother's funeral. He is called away from his book to talk to important people. He refuses, but is dragged offscreen anyway. John is also called away, by The Director, who is scolding him that he should be practicing. He quickly hides the book and runs offscreen too. But we see both boys look back towards the places where the two books are hidden.

We cut to some five years before the events of the John Wick movies. We see John raise his head from under bloody bathwater. Helen is bathing him. She begs him to quit his work and come to her world. He agrees, and kisses her.

Next, we see John coming to Viggo, requesting to leave. He’s “dressed for a resignation.” Viggo thinks, and says that in return, he must kill every other crime lord in the New York tristate area. John protests that it would have to be done all at once, or they would warn each other and flee. Viggo shrugs and says that is the impossible task.

Realizing he can’t do this alone, John sneaks into the D’Antonio estate in Rome. It’s a reversal of the similar scene from John Wick 2. Gianna sees him and tells him that he shouldn’t be here, and to stay away from her little brother before he gets them both killed. John protests that it would be his own funeral, not Santino’s. Gianna says he knows better, implying how violent Giovanni (Santino's father) is, but Santino walks in at that moment.

John and Santino talk, with John explaining that he needs someone who the New York crime lords trust to gather them all in one place. It’s tense. We get the sense that Santino dumped John at some point, but we don’t know why. John doesn’t seem to know why either. John says that he remembers what Santino told him, to come back if he ever seriously needed help. Now he does. He wants Santino to gather everyone in one place, which he is trusted enough to do. Santino asks for his oath in blood.

The next thing we see is the two of them exchanging the marker back in New York, with Winston as their witness. The scene is intercut with flashbacks to a sex scene in a Continental hotel room (it’s fairly PG, but there are some very intense kisses and Santino begging and moaning). Santino’s dirty talk includes asking John to swear that he’ll always serve him when he’s needed. John swears, with “the devil” as his witness. Back in the present day, the two of them conclude the marker ceremony and return to their respective hotel rooms alone.

The two of them suit up for the day. It’s a classic “John Wick getting dressed” scene, except that we’re seeing the same thing for Santino as well. In addition to getting suited up, John buys weapons, including bombs, while Santino starts making phone calls inviting everyone to a boat party that will take place on the New York bay that night. We can see that the plan is to place bombs on the boat, and that Santino will not be onboard once the bombs detonate. He will leave via life raft. We also see that Santino can’t persuad everyone - John has two people to kill who declined the invitation. So he won’t be around while the boat party is happening.

While John is planting the bombs on the boat an hour or two later, we see that Helen is watching from a car nearby, with a medical kit in the vehicle. She is tailing John, presumably to protect him. She looks scared but determined. He doesn’t see her. Meanwhile, Santino shows up at the boat. John scolds him for being there - it’s important that it look like Santino had no involvement in the plot and that this is risky. But Santino just jokes around and hovers over John, seemingly wanting to take this last chance to be close to him. He says he is coming with John on the first kill, “for old time’s sake,” and he’s not bringing his bodyguards. John will be his bodyguard for now. There will be plenty of time to get back to the boat, he says. John reluctantly agrees. He looks painfully nostalgic - we can see that he misses Santino on some level. Finally, we see Helen watching them together, but we don’t see her face. Is she jealous, or no?

They attack the first target early in the day, around noon. The target works in a high end fashion design business as a front, and the store is full of wedding dresses (yes, we’re going full camp.) Things get complicated when the target’s guards get involved, chasing them throughout the building. John takes a lot of trouble to ensure that Santino’s suit is not damaged for the party later. There are lots of antics with the wedding dresses - white dresses covered in blood, white heels used as weapons, etc. Santino is getting increasingly manic throughout all of this as he contemplates John getting married to someone else and eventually ends up with a wedding veil over his head somehow, trying to joke about a situation that hurts him deeply. The fight scene ends. They’re both severely wounded but John has managed not to get much blood on Santino.

Helen comes in and reveals herself to give John medical supplies. John is very upset that she’s there, as he says it’s too risky. Santino seems to take this personally - it’s too dangerous for Helen, but it’s fine if he risks himself? Of course, that’s different because he has training with weapons and she doesn’t, but it doesn’t feel that way for him at the moment. Also, he and Helen are in the same room and it’s awkward. It’s clear that Santino feels threatened and insecure but Helen does not. She thanks Santino for helping to set her future husband free. Santino looks miserable and says something snappy. John gets mad at him - no one treats Helen like that. And it was Santino’s choice to give up on their love. Pretty rich of him to be jealous now. Frustrated, Santino leaves to get back to the boat. There’s not much time left.

John heads to the second target. He doesn’t bother to send Helen away this time - she’s coming no matter what, and it will be better if he can keep an eye on her. They double-team the second fight, which takes place in a butcher shop. Helen stays at a distance but she’s still very helpful. We see the contrast between John and Santino fighting together versus John and Helen fighting together. In both cases, John is protecting the other person and it’s distracting. But in Helen’s case, she seems to be protecting John in return. Instead of egging him on, she tries to minimize collateral damage. She brings an element of innocence to what’s happening and even apologizes to him that he had to do that. To Santino, John’s killing is a beautiful thing, a marriage of their skills as crime lord and assassin. To Helen, it’s butchering, it’s carnage, and she wants to save him. They are both drenched in blood at the end and he kisses her and thanks her for taking him away from all of this. She says she’s sorry his ex still has to be caught in that world. John says regretfully that it’s what he chose.

Then, John gets a call from Gianna. She says she did something stupid: she told Giovanni that Santino is planning something with him. Giovanni is being rash. He has sent people to kill Santino. John and Helen get back in the car and start rushing to the boat to protect him.

Santino gets back to the boat. He looks nervous as hell while greeting the other guests. He’s shaking, etc., but he’s doing his best to hide it. He has already started drinking before the other guests arrived. He’s ignoring his messages from John. We see a suspicious looking group of people board the boat just before it can launch.

John kisses Helen goodbye and leaves her on the shore - he insists she can’t come this time because the whole boat is rigged to blow up and anyway, he’ll be right back. Helen tells him to live for her, and that he can’t die with the old world. He has a new world in front of him. John steals a speedboat and chases the party boat out into the bay.

With the boat out at the center of the bay and detonation coming soon, Santino prepares to board the life raft. But the people sent by Giovanni corner him and prevent him from leaving. (They don't know about the bombs on the boat or exactly what Santino is planning.) It’s interspersed with flashbacks in which we see Santino being beaten by Giovanni after his relationship with John was discovered. This is the first time the audience knows for sure that that’s why he left John.

John climbs up the side of the boat and starts killing, just killing everyone. He ends up killing everyone who would have died to the bomb anyway as he tries to get to Santino. There are boat related fight scene antics (there’s a seafood table and he stabs someone with a crab claw, etc.). Eventually John reaches Santino, but he is so distraught that he refuses to go to the life raft.

There are only seconds left until detonation. John throws Santino overboard and drags him to shore while the boat explodes. Onshore, Santino breaks down. John tries to cheer him up, referencing The Little Mermaid rescuing the prince, and saying he will always save his prince, even if they’re from different worlds now. Santino says that he wanted to be John’s prince but he’s always been the monster, the sea witch, and whether he grants John access to a better life or not, his own life is damned. He tells John the truth about why he left him - to protect him from Giovanni. John cries with him, mourning their relationship and the way that the High Table tore them apart. He says that the real Impossible Task is to walk away from Santino after knowing all of this. He asks Santino to leave, and find love in the ordinary world. To find his “soul” (another little mermaid reference). He says he wants Santino to have a good life like he has with Helen. Santino says he can’t. He will wait for John to come back to HIS world instead. John walks away with Helen while the sun sets.

#wickedsaint #john x santino #john wick x santino d'antonio #john wick film treatment #the impossible task

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lovemayari · 3 years ago

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Would you write a fluff Druig imagine set after Endgame where the reader is Tony Stark’s younger sister who’s hiding her grief as she’s taken over his duties (other than being Iron Man) after his passing so she’s the epitome of the quote “you take care of everyone but who takes care of you?” since he’s developed feelings for her? Thank you!

let me take care of you

editor's notes ; hi anon !!! thank you for requesting KJSDHKJSAHKADSH i kinda got off topic, especially since this is an imagine and...yeah DSKHAJKHAKJ it also focused on the events of endgame, so if you haven't watched it, yeah, there are kinda spoilers. but ngl, i think it's good to see how the y/n also cared for everyone, which can be seen throughout the fic. although not everything is canon compliant since i haven't watched avengers: endgame in a while, so let me know what you think!

wc ; 2.21k

warnings ; a few eternals spoilers ahead but not really lol ALSKFALKFHKJ avengers endgame spoilers, major character death but it's not you or druig lol, uh mediocre fight scenes KJASDHKJDAH, cursing, angst, hurt/comfort esp at the end ! a bit of fluff (let me know if i missed anything!)

summary ; druig has been with you for quite sometime now, especially in your hardest times. he's just tired of you dealing with it alone.

pairing ; druig x stark! reader (you're tony's younger sister, but not too young, kinda like the same age as natasha or younger)

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unbeknownst to the other eternals, sersi wasn't the only one with a human lover. druig has been visiting his lover when thanos and his children attacked earth, and being the younger sister of iron man, you went with your brother to help and defeat thanos. you were with him on titan, screaming when thanos had your brother, forcing dr. strange to give up the stone. you were with him when peter and the others started turning into dust. and five years later, druig watched as you helped your brother figure out how to bring back the others.

as it is not in his mission as an eternal, his family didn't want to intervene with the events before and during the so-called blip. he did, however, visit you in the five years that half the population were gone. despite popular belief, druig does have a soft spot…for you, that is.

"hello, my love," you softly smiled at druig as he placed his forehead against yours. you were in your office (of some sorts), doing your duties to the stark industries to help your brother and his wife, given that they now had morgan. "have you rested, dear?"

you stopped for a while, rubbing your eyes. "hi, druig. i'm okay, just catching up on stark duties. my brother has been focusing on the time travel thingy, so i need to help pepper with the company."

druig was quick to hold your hands, bringing them to his lips, making you laugh. "what are you doing, druig?"

"come with me, y/n," druig said, pressing a light kiss on your lips. his hands snaked your hips, pulling you even closer. protests died on your lips as he kissed you senseless, but of course, the moment is soon interrupted by your phone ringing.

"wait, druig, i need to answer that," druig didn't want to let you go, but he also doesn't want to risk getting you mad, so he reluctantly let you answer.

"hello, tony?"

"i figured it out."

"what?" you were in disbelief. "does it mean…?"

"yes, we're going to try and get them back. meet us at the compound, we need to plan this."

you shuddered, breathing deep. "yeah, okay, i'm on my way."

druig's brows furrowed hearing this. where are you going? you quickly stood up, gathered your things, going to leave but stopped by druig. "what's happening, where are you going?"

"tony found a way to bring them back. i'm sorry, i need to go."

"but,"

"druig," your voice was hard, removing his hold on you. "i'm really sorry, but i have to be there. i need to do this. i'll find you when it's over."

"don't die on me, y/n."

you smiled, kissing him. "i wouldn't dream of it."

needless to say, it went better than expected, especially with tony's help. you chuckled to yourself, remembering natasha's retelling about how scott turned into a baby in one of their failed attempts to time travel. but, of course, the idea of traveling to the past to get the infinity stones to try and reverse what thanos did seemed absurd enough on its own, but then again, your life as an avengers (and the partner of one of the eternals) is bound to get absurd on its own.

after clint came back successful and assignments were handed out for whose team's going to get the stones, you were off. you were going with thor and rocket to asgard while tony's team is going to new york, and nat's and rhodes' are going to morag and vormir.

"see you in a minute," natasha said, smiling at steve.

"be careful, tony," you said, smiling at him as well.

"see you on the flip side, sis."

and so, the teams went to get the stones. your team went with just a minor hitch, but if it helped thor, it's not really a bother. coming back was kind of disorienting, but you were excited…everything would be back the way it was…until it wasn't.

remembering natasha was a quiet affair with the avengers. you flinched when bruce shouted, but clint…he told you about what was said when they went to vormir. your eyes were bloodshot as they argued.

"we need to give her a proper funeral," you said, albeit quietly. "she deserves to be with family."

they all agreed, so you initiated, planning a short but proper funeral for one of your closest friends. druig hung back at the small ceremony, watching you as you cried in your brother's arms. he let you be, knowing you needed the time to grieve.

and, then it was time to bring everyone back. you pat bruce's arm before shielding yourself with your armor, and then he snapped. it was quiet for a while, but then laura was calling clint and then, they're back! everyone's back and yet, you couldn't stop this ominous feeling.

"what the fuck is that?" you asked, eyes wide. you vaguely heard the others shouting before you were trapped as the compound fell and crashed on you. your ears were ringing as you looked at the mess that is the compound and looked for any of the avengers. clint was underneath some rubble beside you so you immediately helped him up.

"we need to find the others." you nodded, helping clint as he gripped the gauntlet. you looked up, seeing nebula. you grinned, calling her but was confused…she seemed weird.

"hey, nebula, mind giving us a hand?" nebula got near you two, reaching for the gauntlet, but you knew better, immediately punching her. "wait, y/n!"

"that's not nebula, i don't know who the fuck you are, but you aren't getting this gauntlet." clint looked at the two of you, clearly confused and a bit concussed.

"just give me the gauntlet."

"never," you powered up your suit, similar to your brothers, and engaged in battle. "clint, you need to get out of here and get to tony."

"okay," you gave him the gauntlet, focusing on the fake nebula in front of you. "be safe, y/n."

you immediately battled 'nebula', focusing on her weak points from what amelia, your AI, told you. you were both interrupted by another nebula and…gamora, from the looks of it.

"y/n, are you alright?"

"nebula! wait, is that really you?"

"yes, you should go to stark, he is currently battling our father, we'll deal with her."

"thank you," you flew, asking amelia where your brother was. when you pinpointed his location, you saw thanos and your brother, steve, and thor. shit. you couldn't risk making it worse so you connected with friday's comms.

"hey, tony. you need any help?"

"y/n! shit, fuck, you need t–," you screamed as thanos used as a shield, his system failing making you fly immediately to his side. you opened his faceplate, asking amelia to scan him and was fortunate enough for just a few bruises.

you watched as steve and thor fought off thanos, as thanos almost killed thor, and as steve wielded mjolnir. you couldn't do anything…not because you didn't want to, but you can't leave your brother.

you helped him up, careful of his bruises as thor was now on the ground. steve fought him more, but thanos got the upper hand, destroying the shield as thanos summoned his army. you were hopeless, arms still around your brother as you both approached thor.

"...on your left," all of you looked at the portals…wait, is everyone…?

you breathed in relief, tears in your eyes as you looked at your family coming through the portals. everyone was back…which means…you flew with your brother, his systems functioning at least, standing besides steve. pepper is donning her own iron suit, a gift tony was reserving for their anniversary. tony looked at you, nodding.

"avengers," steve said, summoning mjolnir. "assemble!"

the fight–no, war, was on. you flew, shooting lasers and helping your brother in battle. you saw cull obsidian punched him, making you retaliate, effectively rendering him unconscious. you saw peter approaching you both as he rambled about what happened. tony was quick to hug him, you second, as he returned the hug.

"okay, we need to go and get the stones away from thanos."

it went forever, you thought, as you fought your way to prevent thanos from getting the stones. but then, he had the gauntlet and all was gone.

"i am inevitable," he snapped his fingers…nothing happened, wait…what? then you saw tony, the stones on his own gauntlet.

but before you could stop him, he looked at thanos. "and i…am iron man."

you all stopped, looking as everyone in thanos' army disintegrated. you were quick to fly beside your brother, seeing the toll it took on his human body when he snapped. you took off your suit and cried, holding your brother as everyone went to you and him. peter was crying beside you as he told tony you won, and pepper…oh, pepper. she sat beside you as you both helped tony sit up.

"hey," pepper's voice was steady but you knew how much this is for her.

"hey, pep," he tried to look at you but you shook your head, telling him it's okay. "hey, y/n."

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?"

"life functions critical," your hand goes to your mouth, stifling the sobs escaping it. he wasn't gonna make it.

"tony, look at me." you sobbed beside pepper, holding one of his hands. she held his face, smiling as tears fell down her face. "we're gonna be okay, you can rest now."

and with that, the arc reactor lost its light. pepper clutched onto her husband as she cried. you let go of his hand, standing beside peter. you didn't stop crying as everyone kneeled to honor tony. the funeral was quaint, your family grieved as you all watched tony's last message. he was gone.

months passed after everyone was back…and your brother was gone. druig came to your room after the funeral and comforted you. he let you cry on his shoulders as he held you, heart easily breaking for one of his beloved mortals. he offered to take you away from everything but you couldn't just leave. there was many things to do, especially with the company. with tony gone, you needed to step in and help pepper and of course, being iron man, your brother left a lot of duties.

you worked and worked and worked, forcing yourself into exhaustion, hoping it would take your mind off of your brother. druig always tried to persuade you but you didn't get swayed. you couldn't. the least you could do for your brother is to continue is his legacy, and that you did. and because of it, you didn't really have time for your partner, and he wasn't going to let it happen any longer.

"y/n," druig's voice was stern. "you need to rest."

"no, druig. i need to finish these reports. tony wou–,"

"no, y/n! you are one foot away from dying! i won't let that happen!"

"druig, you need to und–,"

"no, you need to understand!" his voice was firm as he gripped your shoulders, trying not to tighten them too much. "you're working yourself to death. your family is worried about you. i'm worried about you!"

"but tony–,"

"tony's gone," druig looked apologetic. "i'm sorry, love, but he's gone. and he wouldn't be happy if you died just after he sacrificed himself for you and for everyone he loved and for the whole world."

you finally let druig hug you, his clothes immediately getting wet as you cried. your hands gripped him, scared. "i'm sorry. ever since tony died, i tried to do everything he did. i couldn't let his legacy just die, he doesn't deserve to be forgotten. as his sister, i needed to take on the role, but i…i can't. tony's gone and iron man's gone, and i miss him so fucking much, druig. it hurts."

he pulled you closer, rubbing circles on your back as he assured you. "i know it hurts. i may not truly understand, but living with you mortals for a thousand years or so, i had my fair share of grieving. and, it's okay to grieve. it's okay. but, you need to remember to take care of yourself. ever since winning against thanos, you didn't stop taking care of everyone, even if it didn't concern you. darling, you take care of everyone but who takes care of you?"

his hands moved to your face, wiping away your tears and resting his forehead against yours. "if you let me, i'd gladly take care of you for all eternity."

"oh, druig." you smiled, crying still. "is this really going to work?"

"i'll make it work, my beautiful, beautiful, y/n." you laughed at his nickname for you. he smiled, seeing you a bit happy was a start. "i love you."

"i love you too, druig."

he kissed you softly, relishing in your beauty as he took your lips in his. you laughed once more as he kissed your forehead, resting his on yours once more.

"let me take care of you, y/n."

you smiled, kissing him once more. "i would be honored, my druig."

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shadowsingerofnight · 2 years ago

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This is part one of three of an elucien fic for the #acotarwritingcircle! Parts two and three will be created by different writers.

I would like to thank @azrielshadowssing for coming up with this project because it motivated me to write after ages I just couldn’t anymore. So really, thank you with my whole heart.

This is more or less canon compliant. It takes place after acosf and then some other events that I presumed happened for the sake of the fic. It follows the beginning of Elain and Lucien’s journey to each other, I’d like to think. You will find dual POV. It’s quite long (7.9k words). I loved writing about them and I hope you like it just as much.

You will be able to find all the other fics in the specific tag and right here, along with the next parts to each of them so keep an eye open if that’s something you’d enjoy!

“Is training going well?” Feyre asked, walking towards the chair on the other side of the unlit fireplace. She had winnowed right in the middle of the room just seconds ago, clad in her Illyrian leathers, looking fierce and gentle in that way only she could. Besides her sister and Rhys, only Morrigan could winnow directly into the townhouse, as part of their family. That’s what the spell on it demanded. Elain supposed that logic granted her access too, if she’d known how to actually winnow. There was so little she knew these days. So much she wanted to learn- so much she just wanted.

“Yes, thank you,” she said with a smile. Feyre had assured Elain time and time again that she didn’t have to train, but she had found that she needed it. Needed an outlet for her frustration. Besides, the movements helped her understand this new body she still didn’t know well. And she sure didn’t mind getting strong enough to stand up for herself like she couldn’t before. Protecting whom she couldn’t before.

Elain sighed. She stood from the settee opposite her sister’s and headed for the open window facing the Sidra. Summer was at the door and she could see the signs all over Velaris- from the buds on the trees that would later grow into heavy fruits to the waters of the river so clear she could spy the fish speeding by. The temperature wasn’t yet too hot so she loved to soak in the sunlight when she could, like she was doing moments ago. Especially when that light breeze from the mountains kissed her skin through the windows. It reminded her of stolen touches and a comforting scent.

“I’m happy to hear that,” Feyre said with such love in her eyes that Elain felt her heart fill with it. She often thought she wasn’t worthy of it all. Of anything, really. Of anyone. But her sister’s capacity for love was still something to marvel at. It was so immense and unfaltering that there had been times it had been the only support that had kept Elain from falling apart. That and Nesta’s fierce stubbornness.

She smiled back at her sister, trying to convey words that were still hard to say. But Feyre knew. Feyre knew a lot.

“Well, I’m not trying to become a warrior,” Elain said, “I’m merely keeping my body active and strong.”

Feyre shrugged. “A true warrior is so mostly in the heart, anyway.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s how Cassian got to be the General of all of your mate’s armies,” Elain laughed and her sister chuckled.

“It was part of it, but please do not say anything like that in front of him if you don’t want a full rant about his training routine.” Feyre sighed. Like she was warning Elain from experience. They laughed again.

It occurred to her then that Feyre in fighting leathers likely meant more than just a friendly visit. It was at the same time that her sister’s beautiful face went vacant for a few moments and then her brow creased with worry and confusion.

“What-“ Elain began, but she did not have time to ask what Rhysand was telling her because he was already stalking towards his mate after stepping out of a ripple of star-kissed night. It still baffled her sometimes, how easily this male walked the world, how much he had learned in his long life. Elain often wondered how Feyre did not feel overwhelmed by the kind of knowledge Rhys and the others held. She sure did. And she knew well it was one of the things that still froze her in place about this new life she was trying to figure out.

Unease spread suddenly in Elain’s gut, as if the thought of what she was missing out on had brought it up. A feeling of such deep discomfort that she almost missed the step she had begun taking towards her sister. She balked, her hand going for the wall to keep herself standing. “What is going on,” she whispered. She felt out of breath, like she had run for hours. But she knew- deep in her bones.

“Why was he there?” Feyre asked, her voice almost breaking.

“I don’t know- he wasn’t supposed to be,” Rhys answered, his own voice low and vacant, and turned around to study Elain. There was sorrow in his eyes when he said, “He asked me to apologise for the pain it was going to cause you,” and bowed his head.

There was such emptiness in her mind, she couldn’t get air in her lungs fast enough and tears began streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t know how much of that was caused by the irrationality of the mating bond and how much was not. But regardless, her legs gave out. Feyre seemed to snap out of her own shock and her arms were instantly around Elain, who could do nothing but press her head to her sister’s chest and let the panic and fear take her.

“What happened to Lucien?” she rasped through the very few breaths she was able to take. She couldn’t see them, but she felt Feyre and Rhys just staring at each other and she could smell both the scents of their tears. For Lucien, yes. But also because they knew how this felt- how the life draining out of your mate felt. “We don’t know.” It was Rhys who answered. He swallowed, his eyes struggling to leave Feyre’s face, as if she’d disappear again if he lost sight of her. Elain didn’t know what words passed between them, but after a few moments Rhysand’s eyes weren’t as wild with panic. He said, “He was checking out some anomalies at the Northern border. He was supposed to stay in Velaris. I don’t know how or why, but he told me he was outside of the wards.” A moment passed, when his gaze went back to Feyre. Then he resumed, “It was still close enough that he was able to reach me mind to mind, and I was paying attention, too. But it all happened so fast, I-“

“So what are you doing here? Why didn’t you go help him?” Elain felt the snarl build in her throat, but swallowed it back down. Rhysand looked at his mate and she understood. Understood why he would want to be here when she gazed up and saw her sister weep silently in her hands.

“I sent Azriel, Cassian and Mor.” Then he added, “Amren, Nesta and Gwyn are waiting for them on this side of the wards.”

The soul-shattering pain was still coursing through every inch of her, so deep it frightened her. It terrified her that this could be how it ended, that this was Lucien’s fate. A male so strong and resilient at the same time. He didn’t deserve any of it.

More tears came and this time she knew it wasn’t the mating bond, it was just true sorrow. Her mate. Over before it could really begin. She blamed herself then, for all the times she didn’t let her desires show. For all the times she shied away in fear of all the possibilities he could offer her. For every single time she refused to let herself feel what she so desperately wanted. Elain had always thought that she was doing it because she didn’t want to be fae. Because she refused to think that she would get to love again at some point after she had mourned Graysen for so long. Because this was what everyone expected of her, to live a silent and quiet life. And it might’ve been true in the beginning. She might’ve even wanted that life. But the truth was, in the end, giving in was nothing but a leap of faith. And she didn’t know how. She didn’t know how to break down all those walls everyone had built around her her whole life, consciously or unconsciously. She didn’t know how to lose this façade without disappointing everybody she knew and loved. But she thought about Lucien. He had. He had leaped out of the box they had put him in. First with Jesminda and then leaving his home court even if it meant losing his family. And then again, abandoning the Spring Court. But he had only lost those who hadn’t cared enough. Not his mother, who still loved him dearly. So perhaps, Elain could do the same. She would, she promised herself. For them both. And she knew her sisters would not leave her. They never had.

It seemed so stupid now, to get to this clarity when it would just bring her more pain for what could’ve been. Fate was cruel that way. She thought about all those times they had secretly met around this very city. All the stories he had told her, that had frightened her in a strange way. She understood now what she had really felt had been excitement. She so badly wanted to go on adventures with him. Please don’t die.

She wept, her head still against Feyre’s chest, who was just staring into nothing now- as if she had travelled far away into her memories. Rhys had his arms around them both. And then- then it stopped. Elain gasped for air, her lungs finally filling the right way but she just wept louder because she knew exactly what it meant.

“Take me there,” she rasped. “Please.” Her voice broke. “There must be something I can do, please.”

Rhysand watched her with furrowed brows and she suspected he was talking to the others. He whispered, “How-“ but he didn’t get to finish.

They appeared right in the middle of the room, Mor at the front. Elain looked, her breath still uneven. The scent hit her first - like the freshest of days and burning flames. Then she saw him, sagged between Cassian and Azriel, his shiny, red hair a splotch of colour among the black of the other two. He was dressed in gray, his shirt finely tailored to clad his powerful arms and chest perfectly. And there, right above his heart, the biggest stain of blood she had ever seen. She felt reality down on her- she felt the first wave of shock leave her and a hopeless abyss open, of a world without her mate in it. Without Lucien in it. Her knees wanted to give out again but Feyre calmly put a hand around her waist. Her heart was not racing like Elain’s either. She looked at her sister and found her expression to be more angry than anything. Rhys was smirking at Azriel for some reason. No, not at Azriel.

“I bet you thought you were finally rid of me,” Lucien said from where he was standing without any help. His voice was like sudden lightning- it always had been. She had always been scared of the power a voice could have, the power his voice had had on her from the first time she had heard it. Rhysand snickered and said, “I was already sorting through locations for the party.” He walked toward Lucien and clasped his shoulder with a smile. Elain just watched. The High Lord headed to where Morrigan was waiting, probably to ask for an explanation. Elain would’ve liked that very much, too. Her useless fae senses hadn’t helped her detect that he was still alive because she didn’t know how to listen to them. She couldn’t recognise the calmness that had hit her because of the despair she felt in her soul. Which brought her to realise that maybe most of that intense pain was just that. Not dependent on the mating bond, who had indeed recognised that he was okay.

Elain’s legs finally steadied and when Feyre was sure she wouldn’t fall, she stalked to Lucien saying, “You don’t do that ever again, understood?” When she reached him, she lightly slapped his arm and added, “That’s an order.”

A big smile bloomed on his face and he bowed mockingly. “Understood, my oh-so-powerful High Lady.” Feyre just stared at him, but Cassian and Rhysand were definitely chuckling across the room. Lucien was clearly trying to hide his smile. “I was actually dying, you know?” he whined, “don’t I deserve at least a hug?” He hadn’t yet finished speaking when Feyre’s arms were around his neck. When they let go, Elain felt his eyes on her. But she couldn’t avert her gaze from that stain on his shirt.

“Who,” she demanded, her voice still hoarse. “Who did that to you?” She couldn’t keep in the growl then. Several pairs of eyes moved on her, but for once she didn’t care. She finally looked at him, and their gazes locked and held. She could see confusion there, mixed with the most pure hope she could imagine. Her heart squeezed. She had really made him think she felt nothing for him.

“I will tell you everything,” he said, never once looking away, “but are you okay?”

A raging fire exploded in her chest and then she snarled, “Am I okay?” She felt like smacking him for asking but she knew it wasn’t him she was angry at. “You-“ she struggled to find the words. “I thought you were dead.” She took in a shaky breath and the air that filled her lungs, full of his scent- his very alive scent, was delicious.

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” he said and a faint smile graced his lips.

“Stop that, it’s not funny.”

“No, but it kind of is,” Cassian said from where he was now sprawled on the couch. Elain threw him a dismissive look, that just made him grin from ear to ear. Still smiling, Lucien asked, “But really, how are you? I’m sorry you had to feel that.” She gave him a small smile then. He had almost died and his first thought had been of her. Elain’s first thought was often of him, too, but she had never admitted it to anyone. Not even herself. “I’m fine, thank you,” she replied. “It was awful, though. You should indeed feel bad for almost dying.” He laughed and Elain thought it sounded a lot like a song. When she looked at him again, his russet eye was full of light.

Rhysand cleared his throat. Lucien and Elain had just been staring at each other. She felt the blush coming, but didn’t avert her gaze like she would’ve once done. It seemed to surprise Lucien to the point that he was the one to look away first. She tucked the small victory in her chest, where she planned to keep every single moment from now on.

“Okay,” Rhys finally said. “What the fuck happened?” he inquired, sitting next to Feyre and Cassian on the couch. Mor had disappeared some time ago, and Azriel wasn’t there either- but she couldn’t remember when he had gone away.

“I don’t think I’m in shape for a full report right now”, Lucien replied. He seemed embarrassed about it, like it was some shortcoming. Elain’s blood heated, an instinct to fight whatever might be upsetting him washing through her. But Rhys said, “I’m not asking you for a report.” He talked slowly, like you would explain it to a child. Or to someone who hadn’t known anything different their whole life. “Some of us were really worried, you know.” A pointed look at Elain. Lucien was too much of a gentleman - gentlemale, she supposed - to acknowledge it, but he smiled faintly. His smile was one of the first things she saw when she thought about him, along with that metallic eye of his that seemed to see into one’s soul. Or maybe that was just Lucien. So she moved a little bit closer to the edge of the cliff of faith and when nobody expected her to speak she said, “Well, I did feel like dying as well.” Everybody in the room eyed her subtly, except Cassian who whipped his head at her and stared openly. She added, “So it’s hard not to feel empathetic.” It was the closest she had ever been to acknowledging the mating bond unprompted, in front of everyone.

Likely to spare Elain all the attention, Feyre said, “Fair enough.”

Then she turned to her friend and asked, “Do you feel like telling us what you remember?” Lucien seemed to struggle with looking away from Elain, his mouth tight and his brow creased. She offered him an encouraging smile which seemed to confuse him even more. “Sure- I mean, it is a little bit murky but I can try,” he muttered. “And to be honest, I’m not sure you’re going to believe me.”

“What do you mean?” Cassian asked. He was now standing with his arms crossed, having clearly slipped into the role of the General. Analysing and sorting through information for the safety of his land. Rhysand and Feyre were still sitting on the couch, and although they seemed to act casual, their spines were straight and they had an authority about them she had never been able to grasp. It wasn’t in what they wore or what they said, it was just them. These were the High Lord and Lady, even if the report wasn’t an official one.

Lucien sat in the armchair opposite all of them. He put his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. Elain watched him carefully from the same window she had been standing by what seemed like days ago. He was hunched over, like he had a weight he couldn’t shake on his shoulders. She felt her own hands closing into fists. But there was nobody to fight, so she turned to look outside.

“I- What I saw was so weird and… Impossible.”

As always, there was no hint before Mor winnowed in the room again. Nesta and Amren were with her this time. Amren just sat on the floor right where she appeared, while Nesta nodded towards Feyre and then came to Elain. She kissed both her cheeks and interlaced their arms. Her sister knew too. She had a mate and understood the despair Elain had felt.

Feyre was watching them, her face peaceful despite what was going on. Her eyes so filled with love, Elain wanted to thank her for everything she had done since she was fourteen. It seemed like this was the day of revelations. Nesta offered her a smile, as if she had heard Elain’s thoughts and then nodded- she felt it as well.

I love you, too. Feyre’s voice sounded in her head. From Nesta’s small gasp, she had heard it too. It was still weird, that power her sister possessed but she beamed nonetheless.

“Alright,” Rhys said. “Now that we’re almost all here, you can start when you please, Lucien.”

“Where are Az and Gwyn?” Cassian asked.

“I’m letting them see and hear all of this, don’t worry. Feyre sent them to the library so they can search for information gradually as our friend here gives it to us.”

“That is a smart idea,” Cassian declared, then he added, “No wonder it wasn’t yours.” Everybody chuckled, while Rhysand just rolled his eyes and Feyre gave him a smirk.

Suddenly all the attention was back to Lucien, whose position hadn’t changed. He swallowed before speaking. “I was just nearing the wards in the north of the city when I sensed something. It was such a strange feeling, like I was physically drawn to this thing. It reeked of danger. I know it doesn’t make sense, but it did.” He released an uneven breath and then resumed. “I didn’t want to get too close before calling you, Feyre, but I heard children playing nearby.” Elain’s heart felt heavy. He raised his head then, and looked each of them in the eyes, almost like daring them to object to what he was about to say. “I couldn’t risk it.” Nobody spoke. He swallowed again and cleared his throat. A glass of what seemed like lemonade appeared on the small table next to him. Lucien threw Rhys a grateful look. He just inclined his head slightly.

“So I sought it out.” He took a sip and his eyes flew to Elain. A faint smile danced on Rhysand’s lips. That must have been the lemonade she had prepared just that morning. Lucien knew it well, he had always said it was his favourite thanks to her secret ingredient. She had yet to tell him what it was- a sprinkle of cinnamon powder. For some reason, she blushed. Lucien drank half of the glass before talking again. “When I found it, I thought I was hallucinating. It just appeared out of nowhere, like it was sentient and it was following me.”

“What appeared?” Nesta demanded.

He looked into the glass he was holding, as if he could find the explanation there. “This is the part that’s hard to believe,” he muttered. “It was just a huge sphere of some kind of energy. But even weirder- it felt dead. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“What did it look like?” Feyre asked. There was a long pause before he said, “Nothing. It looked like nothing. It was just a big ball of void.” He studied the room, seeking the judgment he was expecting. Everybody looked more confused than anything. Morrigan was the first to speak. “So a huge ball stabbed you?” Her eyes widened, probably because of how that had sounded. Then she slapped a hand on her mouth but it was too late. Cassian was howling, and everybody else was laughing, Lucien and Elain included.

“Moving on,” Feyre said, still shaking with laughter. “But- did it?” That just made Cassian snort louder.

“It did not. That would’ve definitely been hard to believe.”

“You got too close, didn’t you?” Elain accused him. He threw her an apologetic look and replied, “Yes, I did. Turns out- it was some kind of portal. It brought me right outside the wards.”

“Azriel is asking if you felt being moved, like when you winnow,” Rhys questioned.

“I don’t know. I don’t really remember, but I don’t think so.” Lucien frowned.

“It’s okay. Go on.”

“Well, the second I got out there I was attacked. This is going to be strange as well. I saw a… creature. More like a demon. Something like a Naga, but white. Almost translucent. And slimy. It had red eyes and it dripped what looked like venom, but I can’t be sure because by the time I got a good glimpse I was down with a dagger in my heart.” Elain shivered. She thought about the agony she had felt and could only imagine how it had been for him. She felt dizzy. Lucien started, as if he’d get up and come to her but he caught himself and just readjusted in the armchair. Nesta’s arm was immediately around her. She discovered she would’ve liked it, though. Feeling his arms keep her up. By the intensity on his face, he might’ve beheld it in her expression, too.

Rhysand’s voice was like a callback to reality. “Gwyn wants to know why you’re alive.” Nesta and Cassian looked at each other and seemed to struggle with not laughing. Elain felt like laughing too, despite herself. Rhys snorted and added, “She apologises for coming off rude. She meant how is it possible you’re alive after all of that.” A corner of Lucien’s mouth turned up. “It’s okay, she’s right. I’m still wondering that.” Elain could feel the pain in his voice. She felt very light-headed, like when she had drunk some special wine by mistake. “After it stabbed me, it just stayed there for a few seconds. To make sure I died perhaps. Then it dissolved into thin air, like it was called back or something. So I contacted you and just yanked the dagger out. The wound cauterised immediately and I didn’t feel like dying anymore. In fact, I feel pretty great.” A secret smile graced his lips and Elain thought it might’ve been for her. “But,” he muttered, “I don’t know what this is.” He opened the buttons of his shirt until he could get his left arm out and expose his chest. His very sculpted chest. And abdominal muscles. She might’ve been distracted by those, but the black stain on the skin above his heart was what obliterated her already precarious ability to keep it together. A growl escaped her and she felt that need to protect she hadn’t experienced until today. It was so irrational- she knew he was in no immediate danger and she had nothing and nobody to fight, even if she had known how to properly do it. Everybody had the decency to ignore her- except Cassian, obviously, who wiggled his brows at her. She bared her teeth and he threw his hands up in surrender. Elain went back to Lucien’s scar. Another scar. None of the ones he already had made him any less beautiful, but he didn’t deserve any more pain.

It resembled tree branches. It started right in the middle of his left pectoral and spiralled out in the vague shape of a flower. Her head felt even dizzier.

“It marked you?” Feyre’s voice was filled with panic.

“It does look like the seal of a bargain,” Mor agreed. Then she whipped her head to her cousin and just vanished. When she came back she was holding what Elain guessed was the dagger Lucien had been stabbed with.

“It doesn’t seem to be special,” Nesta pointed out.

“No, it really doesn’t.” It was like the dagger heard them because it started glowing.

And suddenly Elain wasn’t in her body anymore. She wasn’t in the townhouse anymore. Her consciousness flew away, like it happened every time a vision came to her. She wasn’t exactly accustomed to it, but she could manage by now. She could feel her sisters and Lucien fussing over her body, but she had no way of going back. She had found that when a vision wanted to be Seen, there was no ignoring it. She landed in the library at the bottom of the House of Wind. She was in total darkness, except a tiny stream of light that guided her to the fourth level. It was very strange, this darkness. It had never happened, especially with the premonitions that threw themselves at her. Those were usually the most clear. Often disconnected, but clear. She followed the light until she arrived in front of a shelf where just one book glowed faintly. She took it off and opened it. She couldn’t see any words, but she knew that didn’t mean it didn’t have them. It didn’t matter, because she wasn’t there to read the book, anyway. She memorised the title and just how she’d guessed, she was yanked back into her body. When she opened her eyes she saw Lucien first, relief clear on his face as he exhaled a shaky breath.

“What happened, girl? You fell like a sack of potatoes,” Amren said, clearly trying not to laugh.

“That’s not true, I caught her,” Nesta protested.

“Yes, you ruined the fun. I would’ve loved to see his reaction if you hadn’t,” Amren replied, inclining her head towards Lucien. He snarled. Elain just said, “On demons, Memoir. East side of the library- fourth level, second shelf on the left. Just tell Gwyn.” Then she looked at Lucien. “And you.” She pointed a finger at his chest. “You need to be seen by a healer right now, that thing might’ve been poisoned.”

It turned out the dagger wasn’t poisoned. In fact, absolutely nothing was wrong with Lucien. Except for that mark. But for the moment, he wasn’t dying. Which was better than he could say for so many other times in his life.

What was also different was Elain. He couldn’t be sure, but he suspected that his near-death experience had shaken her. He wanted to make sure she didn’t feel obliged to care about him just because he was her mate. But he couldn’t lie to himself, he had hoped. He had seen something different in her the moment he had stepped into that room. She had seemed genuinely relieved he wasn’t dead, but that wasn’t saying much.

He had gone back into the city with Amren and Feyre after seeing the healer. The tiny female had already checked the wards while he was being brought to the townhouse and had found nothing. She had asked him to go back and seek out that feeling of being allured. He hadn’t found it again. And worse, the protections around the city gave no indication of having been breached, when they knew that void thing had gotten in. Sure, there had been small anomalies, but nobody would’ve ever guessed that. So someone, or something, could just kidnap people from Velaris. Lucien suspected it wouldn’t happen again, though. It had felt personal, somehow. He had already told Rhys. Lucien had let him and Feyre into his head too. They wanted to see this demon thing, to be able to recognise it. And also to be able to search for it. The book that Elain had Seen was indeed a very long list of demon species and lineage. Apparently they had even had Princes or something like that. Azriel and his mate were already going through it, but having a clear image of the thing would definitely make things easier. Feyre had forbidden him to move from the room he had been provided. In the townhouse. With Elain’s permission. She had said, “You stay there and rest or I will shapeshift you into a frog.” He didn’t know if she was bluffing or she could actually do it but that would’ve been quite an inconvenience. So he had rested, but he really needed to talk to Elain now. He found her sitting in the same armchair he had been in just hours ago, both arms around herself.

“Do they still give you headaches?” he asked by way of greeting. He sat on the couch. She sighed. “Yes, unfortunately they do.” She had complained once to him about the pain she was in after every vision. It was why she resented her power so much.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you, but there’s nothing you can do, so don’t worry.”

“Of course I worry.” He opened his mouth to say more but he didn’t find any words.

“Out with it, Lucien,” she said and his name on her tongue- it still made his stomach clench. Her voice dripped with displeasure, a lot like he had often heard Nesta sound.

“Out with what? Are you angry with me?” Her eyes sparked.

“You can bet I’m angry with you. You almost died!” she nearly yelled.

“I’m sorry you had to feel that, but-“

“That has nothing to do with it,” she interrupted. He let out an exasperated sigh and demanded, “Then what, Elain?” She shivered. “What do I always do that is so wrong?”

She started crying, but he could tell it was the frustration that prompted it. “You plague me!” This time she did yell.

“I plague you?” he shouted back, “Do you have any idea how hard I’ve had to work to not let the memory of you take over my life? Do you? How many times I’ve had to consciously erase the image of your beautiful face, of the way your eyes shine when you’re in your garden or the way the sun catches your hair? Just because it was all I could see?” His breath was laboured, like letting these words out was the most difficult thing he had ever done. It probably was. “Hmm?” he demanded again. “Your kindness? Your cleverness? Your strength? Do you know how miserable it’s been?”

Her eyes were wide, incredulous. “You’ve never shown it like this.”

He couldn’t believe her. “I’ve never-“ He got up from the couch and covered the distance between them in two strikes. He pointed a finger at her. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t. You’ve shown me mild interest at best, indifference at worst. And I don’t blame you, it’s your choice. But you don’t get to throw it in my face.” She got on her feet and pointed right back. She was almost a foot shorter than him, but her gaze was fierce, daring. “If you think you’ve ever been indifferent to me, you should reconsider being an emissary because reading people is nothing you’re good at.” Then she sidestepped him and went into the kitchen. Lucien was left gaping in the middle of the sitting-room. “I usually am,” he fumbled.

He followed her, as he had done for years now.

She was filling a glass with water, her cheeks flushed. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Look, I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay here. And for caring if I died or not,” he muttered. Elain stopped with the glass halfway to her mouth and her gaze snapped to his, her face soft. “You don’t have to thank me for caring, Lucien,” she whispered. He forgot that sometimes- his life had taught him better than to believe he was owed anything. “A lot of people care about you here, you know,” she added. He smiled, “I know.” Feyre had been a blessing in his life, a friend like he’d never had before. And he could tell he was growing on her court. Well, except maybe Amren. Elain smiled too.

“What is this really about? Why are you saying all of this now?” he asked softly.

“You almost left me,” she whispered and her voice broke. His heart dropped into his stomach and then it started racing. “You almost made me live in a world without you in it.”

“Well, if it took me one step away from dying to make you understand it was something you didn’t want, I’m glad it happened,” he said, trying to keep the conversation as light as possible because he couldn’t bear to see her like this. She said, “It’s not funny.” But the corners of her mouth turned up. They just stared at each other for a moment and then she took a shaky breath and seemed to stifle tears. He instinctively walked towards her.

“What’s wrong?” Lucien could feel the panic in his own voice. Elain raised her head and looked straight into his soul. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to get out.” Her eyes were pleading. He knew what she meant so he said, “I’ll be with you every step of the way if you’ll let me.”

“I’d like that.” His heart felt like bursting. He didn’t want to dare too much but he whispered, “May- May I hold you?”

Against all odds, she nodded. So Lucien did. It was like crashing. He took her in his arms and it felt like forever in the warmth of an embrace. Her own arms around his waist, her head resting on his chest, she whispered, “Your heart sounds a lot like mine.” It did, he could’ve sworn they beat along the same notes.

Having her so close was so much better than he had imagined and nothing in his life, none of the scarce good memories he had, compared to this. He closed his eyes and rested his own head on hers. “So, I really charmed you with all those visits, huh?” She sniffled and chuckled. “You did. But I’ve always been afraid you saw me just because of the mating bond.”

He was left speechless for some time, mildly upset he had never thought that was a thing she could worry about. He lifted his head and waited until she did the same. “The mating bond isn’t even the reason I looked your way the first time. But even if it was, it’s definitely not why I kept looking.” She nodded, but seemed unconvinced. He would make sure to change that.

“It’s just ironic, you know. That I have this supposed gift that allows me to See everything, but I have never been seen.” Lucien felt the immense sadness she harboured in her heart and his own broke a little. “I see you. I see the mask you wear and I see you underneath. You’ll never feel like this again, I promise.” He understood her so well. He had been spendable his whole existence, remaining on the outskirts of other people’s lives without ever seeming to find the center of his own. That might’ve been about to change, though.

He watched her, searching for a sign she actually believed him. The honesty and trust he found were breathtaking. “Never again.” She got on her toes and kissed his cheek in what felt like a promise. He didn’t know what she was promising, but he would take anything she was willing to give. “Never again,” she whispered.

Her hand, resting on his chest, started to glow. She yanked it away, as if she was afraid of hurting him. But it wasn’t actually her, he saw- it was the mark. He made quick work of the buttons of his shirt and exposed it. It had already stopped whirring but the roots had rearranged in what looked like words; he didn’t recognise the language. “Well, that was weird,” he said.

“Are you okay?” His heart squeezed and he nodded. “Did I do that?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but we should go and see if Azriel and Gwyn found anything.”

Azriel and Gwyn had indeed found something- what Lucien could confirm was the exact creature that had attacked him. A lechatelieritos demon, apparently. He didn’t even know demons existed. “They don’t anymore. Not properly at least. The connection to their home world has been sealed millennia ago. Some of them became trapped here and were hunted near to extinction. Most of those that remained can’t bear sunlight so they prowl the woods at night,” Rhys explained when they gathered in the library.

“This must be a powerful one, if it could be out in the sun,” Elain pointed out.

“Not exactly,” Gwyn said. “It was specifically bred that way. It is a messenger demon.” She showed them the page in the Memoir.

Feyre groaned. “I might’ve not been able to read until not long ago, but that is incomprehensible,” she muttered. Rhys put his arm around her waist and Gwyn chuckled. “I couldn’t understand it either,” Azriel said, smiling. “If I didn’t have a brilliant mate, I would still be in despair.” He kissed Gwyn’s temple. She blushed. “Yes, well that’s because none of you should actually be able to understand it. Even I don’t fully.” She tapped the page with a finger and said, “This is old Day Court language. I could grasp some words thanks to several translations I did for Merrill and piece it together from there. But I still can’t tell who made this demon or who controls it. I do know that it has to do with some light spirits or something like that, which is consistent with the Court this language belongs to.”

“You two should call Helion,” Lucien suggested. A strange look passed between Feyre and Rhys and then his friend said, “We will. We will ask him for help with this and also for access to his Libraries. I think you should go down there and see what you can find out about the demon and whatever else Helion might tell you.” He found the phrasing of that strange, but ignored it because Elain stepped beside him and declared, “I’m going with him.”

Everyone was left speechless for several moments, until Rhysand raised one groomed brow. “If that’s what you wish-“

“It is. I’m going with him,” she repeated. “The book showed itself to me. It might happen again in Day’s Libraries.”

Lucien could see the conflict on Feyre’s face, he could see that she wanted to keep Elain as safe as possible but was also fighting that urge because she knew how it could stifle a soul. His heart still ached for her. Sometimes, people needed space to become who they were supposed to be and Feyre knew that well. “It would be my honour to have you as my travel companion and offer you my protection if you offer me yours.” He took Elain’s hand and kissed it. She seemed flustered and only managed to nod. He smirked at her. Feyre cleared her throat. “Now that we’ve settled that,” a pointed look at Lucien, “While you’re away we will keep an eye out for the ball thing here in the city and organise expeditions to search the territory around the wards on the other side. See if we can find anything. That’s what we can do for now, until you provide more insight. Azriel, you tell Cassian to start making tables for the search parties. Call in a few Illyrians if need be. Gwyn, please tell Nesta and the other Valkyries. See if any of them are willing to go outside, but do not insist. It’s always their choice. Have I been clear enough?” He marvelled at his friend. She was a natural leader. Rhysand was watching her with such intensity that Lucien felt like invading their privacy. “Yes, my Lady,” Gwyn and Azriel replied together, grinning. “Great,” Feyre declared. Then she added, “Rhys.”

“Darling?”

“Go and contact Helion. I need to check up on Nyx.”

“Yes, my Lady,” he smirked. She just rolled her eyes.

Lucien waited until Feyre and Rhysand were gone- not before his friend had thrown the “we’ll talk later” look back at him. They would- he would tell her about the mark too, but right now she didn’t need more to worry about. He turned to Gwyn. “Can I ask you one more thing?” She nodded eagerly. He moved his shirt, the first four buttons already left unbuttoned. “Do you have any idea what this says?” he questioned. She took her time, observing each letter, then she sighed. “Unfortunately, I don’t. It looks like it’s even older than the language of the book. Definitely still Day Court, though. That word right there,” she pointed at his chest, “That seems to be a variation of the word “Day”. A little different, more pompous- but that should be it.”

“Thank you.”

“When did it change?” Azriel asked. Lucien looked to Elain, who seemed to want to disappear. It was adorable but it still stung a bit. Rationally, he knew this could not be rushed and yet- yet, he had been waiting for years. He mentally slapped himself. She owed him nothing other than what she wanted to offer. So he replied, “I just woke up to it like this.” The lie was smooth but Azriel didn’t look convinced and Gwyn wiggled her brows at Elain. She smiled a bit.

Helion was a decent enough male. Elain knew him and Rhys had always been more or less friends. They put up the same kind of mask when they presented themselves to the rest of the world. But the way he looked at Lucien made even her uncomfortable. It was not the same way he watched Azriel or Morrigan. It was like he was constantly searching for something in him- like he was trying to piece something together.

They had gathered in the river house this time and they were waiting for the High Lord of Day to translate the history of the lechatelieritos demon. He kept stealing glances at Lucien now and then, who actively tried to ignore him. But Elain wondered if he saw it was not lust that prompted the attention.

“This is very weird,” Helion declared. “I don’t understand how this was here.”

“What do you mean?” Rhys asked.

“Well, this is the demon specifically bred to deliver the message of a great change in the Day Court. It’s a prophecy we’ve had for centuries and that has never left our borders.” He sat back in his chair, his arms slacked at his sides. “But now I have to tell you about it because it marked one of you, didn’t it?” he asked.

Don’t show him yet. Feyre’s voice was clear and firm in her head. It was definitely directed at Lucien, but she had let everybody hear it in order to keep them from saying anything. Lucien’s face was impassible, but she felt it- his confusion, all the questions circling in his head. What could he possibly have to do with a centuries old Day prophecy? She wondered the same.

“Tell us about it,” Feyre offered, smiling sweetly. Helion narrowed his eyes at her, but Elain could see respect there. For a clever and resourceful new High Lady. She felt very proud.

Because the High Lord needed to see the mark himself, to know what it said, he would translate it for them eventually. But they couldn’t be sure he would still tell them what to expect from the prophecy after he got what he wanted. He smirked at her. “You’re a fast learner.” Feyre just shrugged. Helion sighed. “There’s not much, actually. The ones born in ruling families are taught from a young age that one day we might receive a message. It might be burnt with blood or traced with a flower. I think the flower part was added to make it a little less scary, but alas. There’s a creature that delivers the message and if we see it we don’t have to be afraid because even light can be blinding sometimes. It’s because it is supposedly very ugly, but we figured that out later on. Anyway, we might not see it, because we don’t know how the message comes, or where, or when. The mark, though, should provide the answer as to what to do next.” He spoke almost robotically, like it was something he had heard and repeated thousands of times. He probably had.

Rhys nodded at Lucien, who started stripping again. Helion demanded, “It marked you?” He sounded skeptical. “You’re not even from the Solar Courts,” he spat. But it sounded off, like it was something he had made a habit out of saying but didn’t really mean. Lucien was not impressed and looked him up and down before replying, “Well, you should’ve told your demon that before it stabbed me in the heart.”

Elain could’ve sworn she heard Cassian howling a few rooms away, where he was waiting with Az, Gwyn and Nesta. Feyre and Rhys hadn’t wanted to pressure Helion too much but there was no way they would stay away so a compromise had been found. No one had protested when she had claimed Lucien’s side, though. Helion could probably still smell all of them- and now hear them too.

The High Lord snorted and urged, “Let’s see it, then.”

But all the cockiness faded when Lucien revealed the mark. Helion looked at it and then he looked at Lucien, as if that missing piece he was searching for finally clicked into place. Then, just for a split second, his gaze flew to Elain. His skin paled so abruptly he suddenly looked sick. She couldn’t imagine what in that little mark could cause such a reaction. She searched the room for answers, but Amren and Mor, who had remained silent the whole time, were as confused as she was. Lucien even more. Rhys and Feyre, on the other hand, just looked worried. They were clearly talking to each other through that strange gift of theirs.

“Helion,” Rhys called. “What does it say?” he asked, but he sounded like he already knew.

Helion seemed to not care about the mark anymore. He was just staring at Lucien, who could do nothing but stare back.

“It just says “Heir of Day and Lady of Sight”.”

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bakubabes-and-ramble · 4 years ago

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Headcanon: The Gundalian culture is based on individualism, the Neathian culture is based on collectivism

Race interpretation part one: Neathia

Summary: The Neathian culture is built on the core values of communities and collective thinking. While conformity within the society is of a high level, they pursue a 'closed gate' diplomacy towards other races - resulting in a 'bubble' phenomenon and becoming vulnerable to losing their sense of belonging. Centralised urban system, with regional reciprocity and redistribution, whereby the Queen plays a coordinator role, and exists as a unifying symbol along with the military.

(Wall-of-text warning ; with block-breaker illustrations, but a huge amount of information ahead.)

Okay, this topic is something I was thinking about for a long time, and I finally hit the point to collect my thoughts and write them down. I've seen a lot of people trying to build up/further and enrich the cultural and social-political features of the alien races we've seen in the series (namely Vestals, Neathians and Gundalians), and I felt some inspiration to put my take on these things into words.

It's not only intriguing to try one's hand on the world-further-building, but I felt, I have to explain how I imagine the build-up of the Neathian and Gundalian culture and society to make the story of the 'Neathian Special Squad' ('NSS') more understandable 'symbolically' and from the aspect of a 'cultural clash'. /For those, who follow the NSS: This is something that definitely happens later on, you just don't know about it yet./

I have to put a small disclaimer here: This entire piece of writing was conspired out of fun and passion towards the series. It was not meant to be a 100% professor approved scientific research, but a seemingly logical untangling of my personal train of thoughts concerning the fantasy creatures of the third season. And this means, there is going to be some personal opinion mixed in as well (especially at the rewriting parts).

I wish the readers to enjoy reading it regardless. You are always free to disagree or not to take it seriously. :) To me, headcanonizing and imagining things always meant to be fun.

Side note: I'll add canon elements as examples or refer to the events of Gundalian Invaders, although I have to admit, I'll do this mostly from memory. So If I get anything wrong, or just remember incorrectly, you are welcome to add-in or correct me! :)

Season: Bakugan: Gundalian Invaders (and Mechtanium Surge)

Language: English dub

Okay, let's go!

Gundalian Invaders - Slightly rewritten

The first and foremost reason I actually started writing this post, is because I had some issues with the characterisation of the Gundalians and Neathians in the third season. One side is depicted blatantly, purposelessly and one-dimensionally evil, while the other is portrayed to be the goodie-two-shoes victims with no backlashes. I wanted to swing over this simplicity and make an attempt at explaining, how I imagined these races to function. These interpretations were explored with the intention of both keeping the main features of the races, staying canon-compliant where possible, but change canon elements/propose ideas to turn the races into interesting (and on a theoretical level functioning) societies.

For these added or assumed ideas to work, some lore elements have to be changed or removed: For example the way Bakugan got to be on the planets. For this explanation see: a further point below.

This post discusses only Neathia for now. (Gundalia will probably get it's own post, as there is much more canon-divergence to be talked about.)

Neathians

1. The beginnings and core values

Due to the power of the Sacred Orb, almost the entire planet have relished in a lush fertility since the beginnings. (And this is why there are huge plants in their jungles. The wildlife also experienced a great upsurge by the life-force of the Orb.) This prosperity quickly enabled the Neathian race to organize into a peaceful and sharing society, because the wars over resources became redundant and unnecessary. The established racial mindset reallocated the focus from the individual needs to the communal efforts, and gives a ground for the Neathian values and collective thinking up to even the days of the season.

Neathians think mainly in groups: Let those be pairs (e.g. Fabia and Jin as fiancés; Linus and Neo Zipperator as brawling partners), teams (Neathian Special Squad; Friendship circles), communities (Castle Knights), and the biggest of them all, their entire race. These are all bigger or smaller communities within communities, and they play a major role in how Neathians perceive the world and themselves. Being in these relationship structures defines their place, grants them their basic mental frame, which they are able to think in, and not only their resources, but also their goals are shared with each other. This kind of goal assimilation is what makes them really efficient team players, and also provides them a strong social support from a mentalhygiene perspective. This important role of the sense of belonging makes Neathians both empowered while being in close social constructs , and extremely susceptible to losing these connections.

Thinking like this, when Fabia lost her fiancè or Linus lost Neo, their grief extended further than their deaths or the traumatic events. Losing strong bonds like these put Neathians in a technical identity crisis, as it is a part of their personal perception and mental frame which were dismantled through these events. We have seen Fabia going to extremes to retrieve Aranaut - and to retrieve that part of her, which was lost with Jin. Just as when Rubanoid was handed to Linus, a new connection was formed to either replace or continue the old one in a different form. Fabia's communal bonds were successfully restored, when she also became a member of the brawlers.

The Neathian society is based on caring and cooperation to achieve a collective well-being. This is why communities play such a major role in their self-perception and world-perception.

2. Open-sources, but enclosed diplomacy

For most part, I've always imagined the Neathian race as an although proud and generous, but closed society. They share commodities with each other - within their society -, but it is very important, that only within it. The outside world (meaning outside of their habited planet) is fundamentally shut out of these transactions.

I often refer to this phenomenon of enclosedeness as the 'Neathian bubble':

Not only their mindset operates in closed communities, but their diplomacy too. They are generally passive towards other races, missing trust and a reason to pick up the communication /Up until the Gundalians came and the war started/. This perspective could be applied to understand, why could they be more insistent on and better at operating defensive mechanisms (layered shield generator), than initiating communication with the rest of the universe (Unlike Gundalians, Neathians have no ships or bigger means of transportation. Yes, teleportation is accessible for them, but I don't think they use it that often outside of Neathia.)

I treat this as an explanation for why Neathia had only asked for outside help after the second shield generator went down - the situation became desperate and already being involved in the conflict, it was time to try and reach out for aid. According to these headcanons, I also think, Serena wasn't putting - or at least shouldn't have put - faith in the Brawlers so easily. The reason they weren't tested to prove their trustworthiness further than one question, is because she trusted Fabia's judgement. Without the support of a Neathian, outlanders are almost automatically dismissed. Their (or their Queen's) empathy and compassion may overwrite this code, but even by then they have to be made certain by proving the cause.

Just as when Fabia accepted Ren, because she had seen how much he tried to prove himself. Winning Neathians’ trust is supposed to be a big and determining moment, because they ‘internalise’ you into their scoiety.

Neathians are capable of empathy and kindness (this is something they actively practice among each other), even towards outsiders, they just need time and proof to accept them. Trust is just not automatic towards them, and even so they keep their distance until they get used to it.

3. Personal paralel counterparts - Night elves and the Highborne of WoW

When I think about Neathians, I often put them into paralel with the Night elves and the Highborne from World of Warcraft. For most part, I use their artistic motives, architecture, fashion and cultural approach as an inspiration for Neathians, as they are recognised as 'The pretty space elves' in my book too.

Beside the above mentioned, what could be imported from their WoW counterparts is a rather matriarchal social apparat. For example, Neathians traditionally having a Queen, and women being present in the military or in higher positions, playing important roles. //Just as by the Night elves leadership, religious and military roles being traditionally occupied by women (priestesses, wardens, sentinels).//

Another elven impression, which is more or less universal, is their sense of pride (I like to say it as the expression of 'Neathian pride '). Highborne in World of Warcraft are a quite prestigious race and are usually said to be a little 'aristocratic'. I can imagine the Neathians being lightly less, but somewhat similar on these terms, when it comes down to interacting with their own or other races: For example being proud of their appearance (Emphasizing their unique V-shaped forehead with adequate clothing and accessories), structuring buildings and constructs based on aesthetic instead of real functionality (using diamond as the main material of construction, structuring buildings with elegant but futuristic shapes), or being confident and showing immovable standing and opinion on things (towards outsiders).

As far as I know, the Warcraft elves used to be similarly passive and uninitiative - even mistrusting - towards other races too. And in this, it played part, that they also had exclusive access to a powerful source of power and prosperity, the Well of Eternity (an almost one-on-one counterpart to the Sacred Orb).

While the half-tribal connections of the Night elves derive from their ancient bonds with nature and druidism, the Neathian society feels more likely being based on a futuristic envisionment of these social relations. A civilisation that perfectly blends technology (teleportation technology, communication devices) with classic fantasy elements (knights), while still remaining tribal in the core (shared communality is just put into a modern environment). /Although I like to lean more into the fantasy setting, the technical advancement is undeniable there./

4. Overall economy

If we wanted to negotiate about their economy, I would say reciprocity and localised redistribution are the dominant mechanisms of it. The basic definition of economy builds on the premise of distribution of scarce resources. In this case, resources are not scarce, in fact, due to the Orb they are very much prosperous and renewing. This accessibility discounts the value of the traditional market trading, and supports the establishment of semi-centralised recollection and redistribution. The semi-centralisation here means regional production and consumption, whereby the accomodation of the population happens mainly territorialy, but these regional centres still have a connection to each other and the capitol. This economy is based on caring and well-being, and the high level of conformity and trust within the collective society results in a lack of currency usage (so, my headcanon is basically, that they don't use money).

5. Urbanisation and territorial layout

The reason we talk about a more physical apsect of the planets, is because the core values of the races both play a role, and mutually affect how I imagine their civilised hubs being developed. Communities form hubs and cities with strong connections - just like their society!

When I mentioned localised redistribution, I was also refering to the urban structure of the Neathian planet. Important to note, that Neathia is not just a city, or a country - just like Gundalia, it's the entire planet. What we've seen in the show is the capital of their urban system - which makes sense to be technically built around / in the immediate enclosure of the Sacred Orb, for it's the source of the relishing power. Assuming this, along the capital there could be a centralised territorial layout with rural areas (cities, villages), and untouched wilderness (due to the overflourishing flora and fauna; the urbanisation doesn't affect the entirety of the planet, there are a lot of uninhabited/uncharted areas).

Here is a simple schematic illustration of the above.

The rural hubs not having physical connection with other centres due to the dangerous and untamable wilderness (see: Giant plants in the show) could have lead to the advancement of the teleportation technology. The cities are connected through this port-system, and also with the capital, which serves as the centre of the network.

6. The role of the queen and the military

The main purpose of the current Queen is an overall governance with the direct help of a council consisting of the local leaders of the hubs. The queen bears not only a political, but a symbolical importance to the people. The concept of the Queen is a unifying symbol, someone who watches over the nation. The Neathians can stand behind her and being represented by her. But it's important to note, that her status is not as glorified as to be a despotic being, and her power is not extending much further than overall policies, diplomatic representation and helping the transactions of the local leaderships. There is much more power and independence shifted into the regional governance, rendering the Queen's position to be an effective coordinator between them and unifier, who keeps the nation together. /Still thinking about the way the queen is chosen/comes to the throne, but I had the idea of the next Queen being elected by the current Queen, so the order of succession is not based on the Queen’s family, nor being a community vote of the people./

The peace-oriented existence in itself doesn't require a military to exists, therefore I treat the Castle Knights as a mainly defensive organisation. This military serves as Neathia's defenders, bearing symbolic and community building purposes. Among the Castle Knights - just as the name itself suggests - the traditional medieval knight values show up primarily, such as loyality, humility, courage, faithfulness and the act of mercy. In their comprehension, being a Castle Knight is an act of service towards their country and the Queen, and is not mainly for warfare reasons. (To some extent, I assume martial arts and other forms of fighting - even brawling - is essentially a spiritual activity, which they pursue in order to keep their inner- and physical balance.)

As we've seen it the show, I assume the Palace also functions as the military's operation base. The head of the military is the current commander (formerly Jin, recently Elright), and under them operate several divisions with captains as division leaders. The separate divisions are Physical Fighting (both with weapon, like those defensive shock-sticks the guards are using - formerly offensive melee weapons until the fall of NSS - and hand-to-hand combat, e.g. used by Fabia), Technical staff (operating the shield generators and overseeing their areas) and Bakugan Brawling (this headcanon part is still under construction, but Elright used to be the former leader of this, and the reason he was promoted to commander after Jin’s death, is because the Neathians' realisation of the war swinging in favor of the Bakugan fights, so it was logical to put him as the next 'general leader'). /There may be other divisions outside of these, I just put out some ideas here./ Every guard receives education to some extent in all of these fields, but they end up specialising in something.

//The Neathian Special Squad (NSS) had it’s own divison under Captain Pyrehart, they were a special strike team with a unusual task: Staggering, forcing back or just divide the Gundalian leadership’s attention from focusing on their assault. Basically poking them with melee weapons until they either go away, or can’t concentrate on helping their Bakugan on the field and their monsters get defeated. According to the story - made up by me of course - after a tragedic mission this unit wasn’t restored, and the war effort shifted onto long-range fighting with Bakugan, Gear and Bakugan Assaults.//

7. So...where are the Bakugan?

They have been mentioned here and there, but I'm sure, whoever made it this far into this theorising information dump, may wonder at this point: 'But what about the Bakugan?'

My simplest answer is, that I firmly want to believe, both Gundalia and Neathia had a civilised and established culture before the Bakugan appeared there.

According to the original lore, Bakugan existed on the planets since almost the beginnings. Now, this is part of those lore bits I would definitively change during a rewrite: I want to believe, Bakugan only appeared in their very recent history, almost as recently, as on Earth and Vestal itself.

Perhaps a Bakugan lore- and GI rewrite explanation deserved it's own post, but for the further understanding allow me to explain here a little: A similar event of raining cards - what the first season started with - occured on Neathia and Gundalia too, caused by the dimensional boom of Michael Gehabich and his transporter. The twist on this - and the effective solution to the problem of possible timeline inconsistencies - is that although the explosion caused this interference at one point in time, across cosmos and universes time flows differently. So technicaly the result of it - the raining cards and Bakugan being transported into the particular worlds - could happen at different point of their relative times - even years earlier or later! On Neathia and Gundalia it could happened a few years before on Earth, which covers most of the questions of the timeline-consistency /such as Ren being assigned to watch over Linehalt as a child etc./

Bakugan coming to these places has only an added effect: Just as on Earth, they are not (yet?) integrated into the society and culture of the planets so deeply to be any kind of pillar of their existence or basic civilisation. There could be a start (as having specialised researches, technology revolving around Bakugan, taking part in the war,..) regarding this internalisation process, but it still runs on the surface, and not in the 'veins' of the culture.

I hope this breakdown made sense in some form or another. I just felt an urge to pour out the content of my head. Looking back,this became longer and more detailed, than I originally intended, while also surely missing things because there is no worldbuilding without holes or further questions. The attempt to lay down the basics was made regardless haha!

As always, feel free to disagree and follow your own visions concerning the races and worldbuilding. :) This post was made to reflect back my personal interpretation of Neathians - just for fun and thinking out loud.

For the very end, I leave a disclamer here, which was supposed to go at the beginning, but it felt redundant to put there, so here it is:

I tried to approach it from a more sociological side, as focusing on a bigger, overall picture, common features, than create exact statements. (I would rather call this a speculation regarding the features of the races themselves, their core values, common attitudes, mindset - and this doesn't mean other questions are fully out of the picture. We are just discussing things, which can be derived from the features of the society itself, and make up a more or less coherent chain of thought for now. Other 'for fun' or miscellaneous headcanons, like fashion or physical traits will be covered another time.)

Thank you for coming to this TED mambling!

#bakugan #gundalian invaders #neathia #gundalia #headcanon #long post #text #bumblispeaks

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merryfortune · 3 years ago

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Prince Charming Can't Tell Odette from Odile or Odile from Odette

Clover and Violets 2022

Day 16. Mask

Title: Prince Charming Can't Tell Odette from Odile or Odile from Odette

Ship 1: Athenashipping | Gloria/Serena

Ship 2: not applicable | Grace/Serena

Word Count: 1,815

Rating: T

Universe: Arc V - Canon Divergent

Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Teen Drama, Inspired by Cinderella, Inspired by Swan Lake, Love Triangles, Ambiguous Ending, Minor or Implied Relationships

“Ugh, why do I have to wear a boy’s costume?” Serena complained as she stomped out of the change room in a tailed jacket and knee-high boots.

Yuri quirked a brow, “You would rather one of those frilly dresses that most girls are wearing then?”

“...No.” Serena mumbled and that put that to rest, leaving Yuri rather smug.

The costumes in question were what was available after the third and second years had raided the costume box. Although, there wouldn’t have been much variety even if first years could go first to raid as most costumes were of elegance and debonair qualities as this was meant to be quite the upscale soiree for the duellists of Duel Academia. After all, held once a year and in grand esteem, a most important masquerade ball was hosted by the staff and it was quite the media circus due to the novelty of their school so no, dear students, you cannot go in anything less than your Sunday best. Certainly not as a ghost, zombie, or pirate either. Only princes and princesses were allowed at this ball.

“Here, don’t forget to wear this.” Yuri said and he handed Serena a mask.

She sighed. She was really not all that fond of the sequins and feathers but once she got used to the feeling of the mask itself on her face, she was able to find it most acceptable to wear. Even if she wasn’t all that excited for the masquerade ball, it was mandatory to go, especially if one wanted to make it on the pro circuit like she. Knowing how to schmooze was an invaluable skill and one that Serena lacked so, she forced herself to go, knowing deep inside herself that she was going to stand by the refreshments table and do nothing else.

She was most certainly not going to dance. She had two left feet and hated dancing. Or at least that’s what Serena was planning on doing.

Serena spent at least forty minutes doing that, however. She was enjoying the likes of prawn cocktails and crab rangoons, downing fruit punch and other beverages, hovering by the table, making seemingly no impression on anyone. Yuri had long since abandoned her because whilst he enjoyed the dressing up part of the event, the music and the dancing was also not his forte but Dennis had roped him into a foxtrot and they were still going at it.

But Serena was all fine by herself. The mysterious girl who approached her, however, was not quite so fine leaving her to her own devices of awkwardness and seeming introversion. And Serena didn’t mind one bit.

She was entranced by this student - this older student - and felt that she knew her from somewhere. She had to, they went to the same school after all and there was only a finite number of students, but all dressed up, Serena felt clueless. Especially before such beauty and she was extremely beautiful, like a tiger in the jungle of dim lights and confetti and crepe paper decorations.

“I’ve been admiring you from afar, you know, your a promising rookie,” she complimented Serena, taking her away from the refreshments table and leading her effortlessly, gracefully, to the dancefloor, into a crowd of gorgeously furnished peers of theirs, “but I never found the right time to get closer. Until now.”

“Really?” Serena felt a lump in her throat.

“Yes, really.” she giggled cutely.

Though Serena was the one dressed as a prince between them, this princess before her was taking the masculine lead in all her femininity. She looked the picture of a perfect fairy tale in her pale pink gown with all the frills and ribbons suiting such an image; her long blonde hair down and floaty as she moved. Her high heels clicked on the linenoum of the gymnasium floor as she led Serena through a waltz.

“You are a very cute little duellist, I hope to see more of you.” the girl praised.

Serena smiled awkwardly. She held onto the girl’s hand and she really wanted to ask her for her name but for some reason, she just couldn’t make the words leave from her mouth. Possibly fortunate as the girl continued to speak. Though she was speaking about all sorts of irrelevant things, nothing that would constitute as identifying information beyond just that she was a member of the Obelisk Blue Dorm - and Serena had half expected that due to how she carried herself. She suspected this student was a second or third year and quite the ace.

She had such a magnificent aura about her and Serena was all swept up in it, a burgeoning infatuation colouring her cheeks with blush. Her heart skipped a beat and she wanted for everything when these few magical moments - of over an hour of dancing, it would turn out - was over. And Serena still did not know who this mystery student was, just that when the clock struck twelve, she apologised and bowed, saying that it was too late for her.

Serena could only watch, a question on her lips, as this girl fled away from her and met with another student, also of long, blonde hair and in a dress of opposite, darkened colours of her and then vanished. She watched as they disappeared into a hallway, scurrying off, and she wondered whatever could be the matter. Serena didn’t even notice as an exhausted Yuri trudged up to her.

“Oh my,” he gasped, seeing how starstruck her eyes were, “someone is in love.”

That snapped Serena out of her dreamy, fugue state and she ruffled up immediately, “Am not!” she snapped.

“We’ll see about that.” Yuri hummed.

“Whatever, let’s go, this place sucks, I’m bored.” Serena complained and Yuri deemed only half of what she said as being genuine.

Yuri shrugged and escorted the rather danced off her feet Serena back to their dorm. They parted at the entryway and Serena returned to her room. She collapsed onto her bed as soon as she could, only tearing off that mask that she had forgotten she was wearing at all before going to sleep where she dreamed of that mysterious girl she had spent all night with. She fell asleep to the memory of her dry, floral perfume and the elegance of how she twirled her, still feeling as though she were in that waltz. One step, two step, and then back and forth, Serena sighed and slept especially well.

In the morning, she was still in a daze and that was probably quite good because in the morning, as she pulled herself from bed and dragged herself to the dining hall, she discovered something. She had caused quite the ruckus the night before at the masquerade ball and she had no idea how or why. She was still wearing the costume with its puffy pants and its epaulette-having shoulders and she wasn’t the only one.

The girl from the night before was still in her costume, too.

She stole Serena’s breath away in her bleary, not a morning person state realised as all the buzz was because of them. The dining hall had become quite the parade as people tried to work out which way it was going to be and Serena felt her spirits lift in disbelief as she got closer.

She was standing on a table, her back turned to the entryway that Serena approached from. The dress was the exact same, the baby pink and the white frills, the glimpses of glass slippers underneath all the excess of her gown. And when Serena was finally at the edge of the table, her hands placed upon it as she looked up in wonder to the girl, she turned around and giggled.

The chiming sound of her mischievous laughter was exactly what Serena had remembered the night before. Her heart began to pound faster and she tried to ask what she had been dying to ask all night.

“Can I finally know your name?” she asked.

“Of course, my sweet.” she replied and she flipped her long, blonde hair off her shoulder but Serena could have sworn, was it always that gold a tone or was it merely silver because of the dark lighting of the ball?

She tore her mask off and revealed her face. Serena felt her stomach drop. There were a few girls around across all the dorms with long blonde hair, which was why she didn’t want to get her hopes up that it was either of two, possibly three, specific Obelisk Blue dorm third years that she had managed to charm but miracle of miracles. Those piercing yellow eyes, Serena was enraptured by just how feline and hungry they were. She was… Unmasked, she was one of the Tyler sisters but being a head down, thumbs up kind of girl, Serena was uncertain which one.

Especially as her sister burst in, “Stop it, older sister, why are you tormenting me like this?”

The whole dining hall stopped to gasp as the other Tyler Twin, who had significantly lighter hair than the one on the table, raced in. She was crying, clutching her heart as she tried to catch up to the brouhaha that was unfolding as very rare morning entertainment.

“Serena, Serena, please,” she begged, “it was me who danced with you last night, not Gloria. She stole my dress just… just to torment me! She knows I have an admiration for you, one she does not possess herself.” She panted and cried, her face going red as she tried to convince Serena of what had happened last night in the dark and in the dancing.

“She lies, she is simply envious of what you and I have,” Gloria sneered, yet her expression was neutral, “it was you and I who spent all night together before the midnight curfew. Please, Serena, surely you know which twin you have become so enamoured for.”

"No!" Grace yelled, protested. "It was us. We were the ones who danced all night, surely you know who it truly was, who was under the mask?" Her demeanour was hot and fiery, fighting against her sister unfair or was it just as Gloria said? It was just some ruse of envy.

“I… I, um…” Serena stammered as she glanced between both sisters who demanded her attention but she could hardly hear their pleas over the sound of her heart pounding. She didn’t know and it struck her like thunder and lightning that she did know and the uncertainty, the agony, was killing her, ruining that dream of admiration and beauty.

She had to choose, to discern, and so she gathered herself to speak through all that clouded her judgement and she could only hope that in the precious few seconds that would follow, it would be the correct name that she spoke.

#femslash #femslash february 2022 #femslash february #yugioh arc v #arc v fanfic #arc v #yugioh #serena (arc v)#gloria tyler #grace tyler #athenashipping #grace x serena #serena x grace #writing tag #clover and violets 2022 #clover and violets #so the authorial intent here is that serena danced w/ grace and gloria is the one in the wrong but if you can read it otherwise #i heartily encourage it :)

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lastwagontrainhopper · 4 years ago

Text

A guiding hand

Royai week day 2 - Serene (let’s collectively ignore how late I am posting this ok thaaaanks)

Summary: “She expected Roy to follow up with a flirty comment or joke; that was usually how this type of conversation went. Instead, after a moment, he let out a sight. When he spoke again, his voice had a melancholic tone to it.

"That right there is the one sight that I really miss. ” ”

---

The Colonel and his Lieutenant share a late-night conversation. (Blind!Roy)

Words: 2489

Tags: Blind Roy Mustang, Fluff and Angst, Late Night Conversations, Established Relationship, Canon Compliant

read on aot

“They had left their windows wide open, letting in a soft breeze to relieve them from the heavy summer heat. The curtains were rising and falling without a sound, fluttering in the air like ghosts. Even the streets around the house were quiet at that hour; the only thing that broke the stillness of the night was Riza's voice.

"As for Senator Harn's wife, she was wearing a very elegant apricot-colored dress. With her signature high hairdo, of course.”

Their blankets had long been kicked away to the bottom of the bed in a messy pile. Roy was lying on his back, facing to the ceiling, one hand playing idly with a lock of Riza's hair.

"Apricot?" His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "That's the yellow with a touch of pink, right?”

"That was pretty much it, yes." Riza was lying on her side, her head against her hand, elbow propped up on the pillow. The room was covered in shadows, but the flickering lights from the window on the street allowed her to see the outline of Roy's face.

"And you said Harn had a royal blue jacket...That must have made for an odd contrast.”

Riza smirked. "Yes, that's what several people seemed to think. It looked as if the General and his wife had not consulted with one another before coming to the gala.”

A sly smile spread across Roy’s face. "Ha! And you just know the rumors about their marriage are already flying high. It's sort of ironic, considering how Harn is constantly babbling to the Parliament about the “traditional family” and the “sanctity of marriage” and whatnot." His hand came to lightly circle Riza's wrist, his thumb tapping the back of her hand. "I’m sure you now understand how crucial fashion is in Central. It's not just a matter of taste: it's inherently political.”

"Sure," she answered, unconvinced. "Anyway. The Harns didn't capture the guests' attention that long, since the buffet was brought shortly after.”

Roy hummed appreciated. "And that was a good one. I've rarely tasted crab this delicious.”

"Yes, and they must have put as much effort into the presentation as in the cooking, because the set-up was magnificent. Everything was served on glittering silver plates, which reflected the glow of the chandeliers. On each table, the dishes were arranged in a sort of pyramid, culminating with the piece of meat or seafood. It looked extremely fragile, like...like some sort of house of cards, or crystal architecture, defying gravity - but they all stood the evening without crashing down. It was breathtaking.”

This had become the most constant part of their day. Almost every night, as they lay in bed before going to sleep, Riza would describe to Roy a long list of the things he hadn’t been able to see during the day. When they had first started this habit, as they were working on the the reconstruction of Ishval, Riza's descriptions had been much more pragmatic, like a mission report: which building seemed in need of repair? Which tribal leader looked unsatisfied during their morning meeting? She did her best to give him this information as the day went by, but there were always important details that she missed.

As the years had passed and the two had distanced themselves from the military, Riza's description had slowly become more lyrical. She began to tell him about beautiful sights that he was missing – a particularly colorful sunset, or the way the city lights looked at night. As time went by, she started to enjoy these conversations and more more, and they became increasingly long. It got to the point where, as Riza saw something pretty during the day, she found herself immediately thinking of the way she would describe it to Roy later at night.

"You should try to write a book," he had told her once. "You're so good at this - I can picture in my mind everything that you're telling me about like I was seeing it."

"It wouldn't be the same," she had answered, shaking her head. "I like hearing your reactions."

He had arched his eyebrows, smirking. "And yet you scold me every time I interrupt you.”

"Stop being overdramatic,” she had retorted. “Now let me continue." They had left it at that.

Sometimes Riza would rest her head on his chest as she went on with her stories. This was what Roy preferred. Ever since losing his eyesight, he had grown much fonder of physical contact, even casual, with her - after all, it was the surest way he could know that she was by his side. But Riza liked to remain slightly further, just next to him, so that she would be able to observe him during their late-night conversation. His face would take on such a special expression at those times, almost peaceful, or...serene.

Serene. That would have been the last word anyone would have chosen to describe Roy under normal circumstances. Despite his reputation as a slacker, he was a man that was constantly busy thinking about one thing or another, pondering, planning his next ploy – or his next date with a certain Lieutenant. His eyes in particular had always betrayed the constant working of his mind: they were restless, always darting around the room to study the people they were talking to, noticing details in their postures, noting suspicious movements out of the corner of his eye.

And, Riza knew it well, even the moments of rest didn’t bring Roy much serenity. More often than not, his sleep was plagued by violent nightmares that would wake him screaming in the middle of the night - or at least, that tensed and distorted his expression as he slept.

This had not changed since the Promised Day. But since Roy’s fight in the underground of Central, his blind eyes had lost their piercing look and had taken on a milky appearance. In the first few weeks, Riza had hated meeting that blank stare - it reminded her too much of what his eyes used to look like, as well as symbolizing her failure as a bodyguard.

But eventually, she had come to see a certain beauty in them, and in the calmness they brought to Roy's expression. He was still as expressive as ever, with his trademark crooked smile and taunting eyebrows. But in the evening, when they were alone together, his face truly relaxed. As Riza described the day's events to him, he would focus entirely on her voice, letting his mind recreate the image she was painting. His eyebrows would loosen and his forehead became smooth, free of its usual furrow; his mouth would fall half-open. At this particular moment, Roy took on a serene expression that Riza had never seen on him before, and she never got tired of looking at it.

"I need to tell you, unfortunately," Riza broke the silence that had settled, "that you were not the best-dressed man at the reception.”

Roy propped himself up on his elbows, frowning with surprise. So much for serenity.

"What? Who was?”

“You’re not going to be happy about this,” Riza said, trying to hide the small smile in her voice. "But Colonel Birks made quite an impression. He wore a rather daring suit, made of a black fabric from which red velvet patterns stood out.”

Roy huffed with indignation. "Velvet! Nonsense. He obviously can’t stop pushing the boundaries of extravagance – and of bad taste.”

"I don't know," Riza said evasively. “I thought it was pretty elegant…and I wasn't the only one.”

Roy ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it. "Outdressing the president should be considered insubordination," he muttered under his breath. "I'll call Ms. Zhao tomorrow. I need something more avant-garde for the next gala. Maybe with some silk mixed in with a cotton suit?”

He lay down again on the bed and raised his arm, inviting her to come closer. Riza moved to nestle up against him, putting her head on his shoulder, a hand on his chest. Roy wrapped an arm around her waist and buried his nose in her hair. Whenever he did that, his breaths would tickle Riza's neck, making her giggle; she would always pretend to be annoyed but it, but they both knew better.

After a moment, Roy tucked some of her hair away from her face. He brought his lips close to her ear. "Tell me again what you were wearing."

Riza felt a shiver go down her spine. That deep voice that Roy used when he whispered always got a reaction out of her, no matter what cliché or silly thing he would say.

A wry smile crossed her lips. "At this point, you know my wardrobe better than I do, Roy. ”

"I know," he answered, unabashed. "But I like hearing you describe it."

Riza chuckled. “Well,” she began, “I was wearing the flowy emerald green skirt that Rebecca got me for Christmas, a brown leather belt, and my white blouse. The one with the embroidery on the collar. ”

He hummed in appreciation. "With your golden high heels, I'm guessing."

"With my golden high heels," she nodded, "because even though my feet are killing by the end of the night when I wear them, they do really go well with that skirt." Her hand started to play with the ring that Roy wore as a necklace. "I didn't put much makeup on because of how humid the weather was. But I did wear my bright red lipstick."

She felt his cheeky smile even before he spoke. "I can recognize it by taste, now."

If they weren’t pressed so close together, she would have dug her elbow into his ribs. She rolled her eyes instead. "I also had my gold bracelet to go with the shoes, and the earrings you bought me to complete it all. What else...my hair was in a bun, and, of course, I had my necklace."

She expected Roy to follow up with a flirty comment or a joke; that was usually how this type of conversation went. Instead, after a moment, he let out a sight. When he spoke, his voice had a melancholic tone to it.

"That right there is the one sight that I really miss. ”

Riza felt her smile drop. A lump appeared in her throat. Roy rarely complained about his blindness; even in the months following the Promised Day, he had adapted to his new lifestyle with impressive resilience. At first, it seemed as if his disability had affected his Lieutenant, plagued by guilt, more than himself. Still, Riza knew that he must have carried a lot of silent regrets through the years. There was so much Roy had had to give up, so many compromises he had had to reluctantly accept on his plan to reform Amestris – and on his personal life.

Riza disentangled herself gently from his grasp and straighten up, half sitting, to observe him. One of his arms was folded under his head, and he still seemed to be looking at the ceiling - but of course, that was just an impression. She ran a hand through his hair, brushing them away from his face. He smiled slightly at her touch, but she didn't need to see the pupils of his eyes to know that his heart wasn't in it.

She didn't like seeing him like this. With thoses cloudy eyes, melancholy turned his serene expression into a confused one - like he was a child that got lost and couldn't look for his way home.

Riza laid down again and rested her head on the pillow, her face turned toward Roy. She started to gently stroke his arm. "At least, you can keep in your mind the image of what I – and you – looked like in the prime of our youth," she said after a moment in a playful tone, trying to comfort him. "You won't need to see us get all old and wrinkled.”

To her surprise, Roy's face saddened further.

"Don't say that. Beautiful women are like fine wine, they only get better with age - that's what Chris used to say. I always wanted to see how you would look as you grew old.”

Riza raised her eyebrow, surprised. "Really?" she answered in spite of herself.

He nodded. "Not everyone ages gracefully, of course. But I know that wrinkles would look flattering on you; you have such elegant features. And silvery hair never fails to give this distinguished look - at least on women," he added, running a hand through his hair, suddenly self-conscious. His eyebrows furrowed. "Do I already have grey hair?"

Riza felt her shoulders relax. "You're almost completely bald by now, Roy."

He winced. "Please don't joke with that. I don't know what I would do if this were to happen.

Riza simply smiled, and they fell back into a comfortable silence. She watched Roy’s chest rise and fall with his breathing, lulled by the calm rhythm.

"You know, I always wished I could see you grow old, also because it would have meant that we made it."

Riza felt her breath catch in her throat.

She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek, hoping her touch could tell him what her words couldn’t.

“We did make it, Roy.” Now of all time, she wished he could see her face.

"I know," he said. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a light kiss against her knuckles. "I know."

Riza propped herself up on her elbow. She close her fingers around his, and squeezed firmly.

"Listen. We'll just do like with everything else. When my hair turns grey, I'll describe it to you. And as for the wrinkles," she placed his hand on her face, "you can see that for yourself."

Roy made a small smile. For the first time, he turned to face her, placing the tip of his fingers on both sides of her face. That was something he never tired of doing. Before he had lost his sight, he had always been able to read her like a book, understanding the meaning behind even the most subtle of her facial expressions. Now, he could do it in a much more literal sense, by tracing the surface of her body, reading the lines on her skin as if they were words written in braille.

"And when my face is so wrinkled it's unrecognizable,” she continued, "you will know the story behind each one of them.” She injected a smile into her voice. “The ones I already have on my forehead, for example, come from the stress of having spent so many years asking you to do your paperwork.”

His fingers brushed her forehead, and he smiled, abashed. "And you're all the more beautiful for it, my dear." He reached toward her and, guided by his hands, placed a light kiss on her head. “I can’t wait to see the rest.” ”

#royaiweek21 #royai #blind roy #fma #fanfic

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zevlors-tail · 4 years ago

Note

Random question

Do you think Villain Deku would have still saved Eri?

Given the chance?

This has been sitting in my asks for ages and I need something to endlessly talk about this morning that’s SFW so let’s get into this.

My general answer is yes, yes he would, but there’s a lot more to it than just that.

I feel like it depends on which version we’re talking about. I feel like everyone has a different version of Villain!Deku that they think about when he’s mentioned. But the most common ones I’ve seen are as follows:

-Crazy/Insane Villain!Deku (mostly independent) -LOV Villain!Deku/Traitor Villain!Deku -Independent/Stable Villain!Deku (so like not part of LOV but not crazy either) -ProHero!Deku turned Villain!Deku after hero society wears him down (kind of goes along with that last one)

Also, we should probably take into consideration the timeline in which the events with Overhaul and Eri happen. Depending on which version of Vil!Deku we’re talking about, the timeline would either have to change a bit or in my personal opinion, he might not have turned villain yet in some cases. That being said, I’ll kind of give a brief synopsis on the different versions and how I think he’d interact with Eri/if I think he’d save her or not.

Crazy/Insane Villain!Deku: Put simply, no. I don’t think he would. Realistically (hardy har har Sweater, this is all hypothetical and Vil!Deku isn’t even canon), I think if he was genuinely driven mad and insane, he wouldn’t think about things like that. That’s all there is to it. He probably only cares about himself and what he thinks made him this way. Unless, of course, Eri and Overhaul get in the way of something he wants, or if they happen to become important for some unknown reason. I suppose it would be possible for him to save her if the circumstances aligned with his desires, but overall I don’t see it happening.

LOV/Traitor!Villain!Deku: Oh, definitely. In this au I think Deku would probably be taken in by the League after being rejected by All Might, or something similar to that. Somehow he finds his way to the villains, it’s not too important how. But they offer him a place to belong, to be accepted, to have a dream and a goal he can actually attain. He’s stable, he’s intelligent, and he’s extremely observant. No matter if he’s the independent traitor or if the League sent him to gather information from UA, he’s going to be there learning things either way, and so he’ll go through things similar to canon but not quite the same. Ultimately he’d probably bump into Eri at some point considering he spends over half his day with heroes and he’s pretending to be one, so I think it would lead up the same way it did in canon almost? And honestly? Traitor/LOV Vil!Deku could end up being a LOT more passionate about saving her than canon!Deku ever was. I say this because in this au I feel like he’d be extremely sympathetic for those without quirks (I know he is in canon but for some reason it just seems like after suffering so much in the au, he would be 10 times more sensitive to it idk), those who have been abused by hero society, and those who have been wronged by the members of society that have quirks and should be protecting others. He’s a villain because he wants to make a difference, and saving Eri would definitely make a difference in his book. He’ll probably get the LOV to help if he thinks the heroes can’t do it, otherwise he might try and save her himself. He knows he could take on Overhaul easy peasy, especially with the LOV behind him.

Independent/Stable Villain!Deku: So maybe All Might rejected him, and he never went to UA, and maybe he became a villain without a quirk. Or his quirk manifested super late, or AFO gave him powers. Whichever route you choose to go, somehow we end up with a stable Villain!Deku who can bust some ass by himself. I personally think this version of him would save Eri, yes. But this version is more on the down low with it; it’s not something he’ll admit to if you ask him about it. He’s a villain, why would he be interested in saving little girls who aren’t worth his time? That’s what he’ll tell you, anyways. But he did save her. He couldn’t stand the thought of not saving her. Overhaul is lower than dirt in his eyes, Eri is a victim needing rescuing, and Deku is still very in touch with his humanity and feelings. Just because the world turned sour for him doesn’t mean it has to be that way for everyone else. He knows who the real enemy is: Hero Society and their ideals and false hope. It’s their fault and no one else’s; they’re the ones to blame for his life, for the poor treatment of those without quirks. But again, he puts up a front, has a hard exterior because he’s been hurt. He acts jaded but he’s a good person at heart. Bad things happen to good people. Doesn’t mean it’s fair, but it’s what you make of it that counts, right?

ProHero!Deku turned Villain!Deku: This is a personal favorite of mine. In this version we have Deku who went through all his hero training and became a Pro before life knocked him down and “ruined” him, so to speak. This is a Deku who’s been weighed down so much by hero society and his hero work and abilities that he turned villain/vigilante for his own personal reasons. Maybe he felt like nothing was really changing, or maybe he got tired of being good. Who knows. Either way, I think he’d save Eri. But the interesting bit about this version is that there’s technically two different ways it could go. 1) Canon compliant, and he saves Eri before he even turns villain. Depending on your viewpoint, you might consider this a reason he turned villain in the first place. It did happen long ago, but it probably left a bitter taste in his mouth. It was one of the first big battles he had as a hero in training, and it left a huge imprint on him. Or... 2) Let’s shift the timeline a bit and say that he never bumped into Eri, that she never got rescued, that she’s been captive this whole time while he grows up and becomes a Pro. She’d be older then, Sir Nighteye might still be alive, and Overhaul would be a menace. Let’s say Deku turns villain relatively young and during his first few years as a Pro. If he gets wind of what Overhaul’s doing, it would be considerably more gruesome than the canon battle was, and he would save Eri no doubt. But the twist here is a bit more angsty because like I said, she would be older, and by that point she might actually have been dead (kind of takes away from the point, but...) or turned into a lifeless puppet for Overhaul with no feelings or emotions. Personally I don’t think you could come back from that. So if he did save her, there’s no telling how that would turn out.

Thanks for letting me ramble! I love stuff like this, I just wasn’t feeling up to answering it until now. But I love exploring AU’s and thoughts and ideas like these. Thanks for asking!

#eri #villain!deku #villain deku #villain izuku #villain!izuku #thoughts and analysis #character analysis #overhaul #LOV #traitor!deku #traitor deku #traitor izuku #sweater thinks

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thelightofthingshopedfor · 4 years ago

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lol okay so I dashed off most of this the day of and then kept not posting it because I kept thinking I needed to add stuff, but then I ended up adding more stuff mostly in reblogs instead (should all be under the “my meta” tag if anyone’s curious) and now episode 2 is technically coming out tomorrow night in my time zone so obviously I need to just post this. bullet points of disconnected thoughts, some of which are probably at least slightly outdated by now but whatever, here you go

seems very possible Mobius left the tape with him on purpose because he figured Loki wouldn’t be able to resist looking at it

would have to check the timing but I’m pretty sure he started looking terrified as soon as Thanos came onscreen without really knowing the context (aside from the very basic outline of “it’s been several years and he reconciled with Thor”), which at least underscores that they weren’t buddies--Loki knew something awful was about to happen the second Thanos showed up sadly this is not true, the clip he sees first is him trying to stab Thanos, so...yeah it stands to reason that he’d know it was about to end badly no matter what

other people have mentioned this but I love that we got to see Loki just like...existing?? like I know he’s never been the protagonist before and seeing him as the protagonist has always been one of the things that’s excited me most about the show, but now that it’s here I’m just kind of struck by how HE’S THE PROTAGONIST so we’re getting all these emotions and little gestures and moments when he’s alone that we only got in tiny, sadly easy-to-overlook snatches before (and it also occurred to me that I don’t think we’ve ever seen Loki eat anything, which is something else that might change)

also his projection is fascinating, and so is the fact that he explicitly turned it around on himself, which seems relevant to all the theories about a lot of his other statements (”freedom is life’s great lie,” most of what he said to Natasha, etc.) being things that were drummed into him on Sanctuary rather than stuff he just came up with on his own, so that seems to cover a lot of the stuff he says in Avengers and here

on the other hand it seems unlikely we’re ever going to get confirmation that Bad Stuff happened to him on Sanctuary aside from what we already saw in Avengers, which is frustrating, although to be fair I also wasn’t expecting to see Loki crying about his family in the first episode (and the most I’m really hoping for, still, is that nothing will explicitly contradict the idea, so...we’re good on that thus far, I guess)

so the first half of the episode was...ehhh, I don’t know, but the second half was amazing. I know some people didn’t like that part either, but I felt like...okay, I don’t love him being humiliated so I would’ve preferred different framing for some of this BUT a lot of casual viewers still see Loki as a cackling caricature without having picked up on any of the stuff that very clearly showed otherwise, and this show wants to treat Loki as a person, someone worthy of audience sympathy, so they kind of had to go in hard and fast on that aspect to get everyone up to speed. like, yes, fans who’ve been paying attention know that Loki’s a person, that he’s wounded, that he doesn’t hurt people just because it’s fun for him, that he feels things very deeply, that he loves his family, but somehow the mainstream perception of him has missed like 85% of that, and the show’s just not going to have much impact unless it gets everybody on board with those very basic ideas. in terms of story structure it probably doesn’t make sense for this to be his lowest point, but starting from the bottom and eventually getting somewhere better is fairly standard, so at this point I can imagine tons of ways things could improve for him

yeah I do hate the whole Sacred Timeline thing, see also my posts about how much I loved that Endgame canonically (I thought) established multiple timelines where everything was fine, so yeah I’m pissed about that because it means those timelines were canonically pruned

like I don’t...hate it as a storytelling device? I just hate it for fandom reasons, and I’ve hated it in other fandoms when canon did something that seemed to open things up to all this incredible possibility and then went “actually no, we’re boxing it up again into this one specific Way That Things Happened” and for fanwork purposes it doesn’t matter all that much, I don’t think it’s actually that much harder to do AUs or go “okay well in this universe the TVA doesn’t exist, whatever” (in fact I wouldn’t be surprised if AO3 quickly develops a new canonical “not TVA compliant” tag for basically all Loki fic), but it is annoying that it’s now like “canonically, every AU is Not Allowed”, and if that ends up sticking as the status quo with the TVA considered good guys or at least a necessary evil then yeah, I’m going to be annoyed

HOWEVER

I don’t think that’s inevitable for a variety of reasons

this whole show is going to deal with multiverse shenanigans and so will Dr. Strange 2, so it seems completely possible that the end result could be a status quo of “there’s a multiverse actually and that’s fine” (...although yes, I’ll be doubly annoyed if the end result of this show is a restored multiverse of some kind and the end result of Dr. Strange 2 is condensing it back down to a single timeline)

the multiverse is a long-running comics tradition, which still seems to be the case even after...whatever event it was that collided a bunch of them and tried for a Highlander thing, look I wasn’t really following it and I know some characters ended up in other universes from where they started but I’m pretty sure we still have a multiverse of some kind

almost all the recent Loki-centric comics have focused on questions of fate and agency

Agent of Asgard in particular was about Loki eventually going “fuck you I won’t do what you tell me” and forging a new path (and, okay, it does seem like runs other than AoA have been the most influential here but again we’ve only seen one episode)

Loki, specifically, is an agent of chaos and change, like that’s his whole thing going way back to mythology, because sometimes stagnancy is death and chaos is healthy, and of course myth!Loki (and earlier versions of comics!Loki) is always responsible for triggering Ragnarok, which isn’t just the end of the world but is also a natural, crucial part of a cycle of renewal, and yes the MCU already did Ragnarok but that doesn’t at all mean they can’t play more with those ideas

Tom Hiddleston has brought up this specific point several times in recent interviews, that sometimes chaos is the one thing that's really needed

also, on Jimmy Kimmel the day of the episode, he kind of...planted a seed about the TVA maybe not being uncomplicated good guys because seriously what gives them the right to make these decisions for literally everyone

so at the very least I think it’s completely possible that things aren’t quite what they seem, and that for instance we’re supposed to discover that Mobius is consciously manipulating him to turn him into the type of tool the TVA wants him to be

also “the timeline wants to break free” shows up on a lot of merch, which does seem to indicate a free will vs. predestination theme

I’m not at all familiar with comics!TVA, although I understand they’re considered villains (although to be fair, so were the Skrulls, and at least thus far that’s been inverted for the MCU), but their whole thing reminded me of a few other entities in a way that could be relevant:

the tape running out was like the Norns cutting the thread of somebody’s life

Those Who Sit Above In Shadow in AoA (and also maybe whatever was below the God Quarry in Infinity Wars although I’m less familiar with that)

the gods in Cabin In The Woods, who were also kind of audience proxies in that they really just cared about the sacrifice being entertaining, which kinda seems like the only logical reason for the Timekeepers to prefer any given series of events over another

my personal hope for the series: the Timekeepers are ultimately the Big Bad and the rogue Loki variant is ultimately right in trying to wipe out the TVA (because sure I realize it’s maybe dumb of me but I still don’t want any Loki to be completely a bad guy!!); the major named TVA characters realize they’re the baddies actually and team up with a whole army of Lokis to take them down and GIVE US BACK OUR MULTIVERSE

#meta #my meta #loki meta #loki spoilers #loki series spoilers #loki show spoilers #loki show #loki #marvel cinematic universe

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elizabeth-mitchells · 4 years ago

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the only touchstone of truth

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: I Care A Lot (2020) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fran/Marla Grayson Characters: Marla Grayson, Fran (I Care A Lot) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Origin Story, Canon Backstory, First Meetings, First Kiss, First Dates, Getting Together, Morally Ambiguous Character, Illegal Activities, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Partners in Crime, crime wives

Chapter 2:

There was something different about Marla that day. She wasn’t bored, she wasn’t idly waiting. She was waiting, true, but only because that was part of her plan. Standing behind her counter, her shop more or less back in shape, she wore a different blouse, higher heels, and a smile that sharpened, even more, when somebody came in. Marla sent a quick nod to Curtis, who had instructions on what to do. He pulled out his phone and walked away toward the storage room of the place.

“Marla,” the man greeted her with a perfectly polite and respectful tone that already started to crumble on his second sentence, “I wonder, what on Earth are you trying to do?”

“Mr. Nelson, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marla replied, “It’s a pleasure to have you visit us.” What an honor to have you millionaire, corporate, chain store, ugly ass step on my broken dreams physically this time.

“You cleaned up the store,” he sighed, looking around as if to take a hold of his emotions.

This promptly reminded the blonde of the couple of hours she spent with Curtis destroying her own shop and then putting it back together again. In the upcoming years, Marla would learn just how far she was capable of playing dirty, and many would accuse her of being unscrupulous, among worse adjectives, but nobody would ever dare call her lazy, that was for sure. With or without morals, Marla was an extremely hardworking woman, and she wasn’t afraid of getting her hands dirty, for better or for worse. A practical habit that she cultivated during her days of playing fair, and kept, for some reason. Most likely because idleness simply went against her nature, and she had promised herself not to rest until she achieved her goals.

“We did, yes. Lots of hard work,” the blonde nodded, “such a shame what happened.”

“Such a shame,” the man echoed the sentiment, speaking on autopilot, but when he focused his eyes on Marla again he was all ice. “You’re accusing us of doing it,” he said.

Purposefully, Marla gave him a deep shrug and another shark-like smile. “I believe it’s the police who marked your company as suspects,” she replied in a mockingly innocent tone.

“We didn’t do it. And the accusation is bad publicity for our business. Drop the lawsuit,” he ordered, his voice starting to shake just slightly. When Marla only shook her head slowly, he scoffed. “You’re nothing, Marla Gray,” he seethed, “Your little business is over. Why would we try to boycott you out of all people? You’re not even competition. Drop the lawsuit.”

“Grayson.”

“What?” he was still laughing with a combination of awkwardness and annoyance.

“My name is Marla Grayson,” she stated using the full power of the commanding nature that she knew she had, “and I will fight for this shop until the end.”

He scoffed again, clearly losing his patience. The man walked to the door of the store and back to the counter once, twice, until he calmed down and not quite looking Marla in the eyes, he offered, “Twenty thousand dollars, and you’ll drop the lawsuit.”

“No,” Marla denied it immediately and before she could fully think about how offensive the offer was, he continued.

“Fifty thousand, Marla,” he said, his face red and his voice trembling. It was a pretty number that put Marla at a crossroads between the attempt to feel offended and the impulse to just ask for more. Either way, that number would not do. She only tilted her head and her expression said it all. “A hundred thousand dollars, dammit! Final offer!”

At this point, Marla made it a point to pick up her vape pen and look as bored as possible. “Please get out of my store, Mr. Nelson. I’ll see you in court,” she concluded.

He shook his head, he was breathing heavily and wildly waved a finger in her direction. “No! This is not over,” he protested, “How dare you say no to me?! I’ll make you regret it, you know?” He made a pause and after seeing that his threat did nothing to disturb her, and in fact, she only exhaled the smoke in a terribly irritating way, he slammed his hands on the counter right in front of her, “Dammit just take the money!”

“I will not,” Marla fumed back at him, barely letting show a hint of her patience running out.

“And you better stop screaming.”

Both Marla and her unwanted guest hastily looked toward the door of the shop. There was Fran, casually leaning against the doorway, not so casually showing off her plaque. At first, the man didn’t even move from his place. But Fran let out a quick whistle and said, “This aggressive visit will not look on your case, Mr. Nelson.”

Finally, the big store owner groaned loudly and without even sparing either woman a word, he stormed away from the place for good.

This quick turn of events left Marla and Fran alone in the shop. Marla stayed behind the counter that she managed to handle like an equivalent to a throne, and Fran took a couple of effortless steps forward until she stood in the middle of the place, directing a small and easy smile at the other woman.

“I must say,” Fran started to say, “I didn’t expect to receive this ‘Marla needs help, come over right now’ text from a number, I assume, that isn’t yours.” She waved her phone once for emphasis.

“Personally, I don’t usually give my number to strangers,” Marla replied, earning herself a chuckle from Fran, who looked away for a second, but when their eyes met again, Marla was sincere as she said, “Thank you for coming, by the way.”

Fran nodded, accepting her gratitude without making a big deal of it. This gave Marla an opportunity to study her again. Fran looked similar to what she did that night showing up to the shop after the staged attack. A ponytail holding on for dear life to wild hair that just begged to be freed, a more or less regular detective’s outfit that most likely wasn’t designed with the purpose of fitting Fran’s curves so scandalously well on every single right place. And then there was the way she simply stood in the middle of the store with immeasurable confidence. Nothing to hide behind, nothing to lean into, just her in an open space without any issue with Marla’s eyes glued to her. She wasn’t standing there like she owned the place, not exactly. It looked like she couldn’t care less about ownership, but her world consisted of only her, and she didn’t care enough about any authority to give them the power of deciding if she belonged or if she was out of place. Fran carried herself as if the rest of the world’s ideas of right or wrong were mere suggestions. Nothing sounded more appealing to Marla.

“You weren’t exactly in trouble though,” Fran contemplated, reluctantly breaking the silence, “you looked like you had it handled.”

“But you did scare him off,” Marla grinned.

“And you didn’t take the money.”

“Do I look like someone that would have taken the money?”

Fran laughed, because they both knew the answer to that question very well. She walked forward until she could lean her arms on the infamous counter, not quite in front of Marla, just a little to the side. “Maybe you should have,” she finally mused, “this might be bigger than you, gorgeous.”

This development in their interactions came with considerable consequences for Marla, who had underestimated the effect it would have on her to have Fran again standing so close to her. She wouldn’t back down though, she wouldn’t lose her higher ground, but she couldn’t deny the fact that Fran shook her to her core in a magnitude previously unknown to Marla. She couldn’t come up with a reasonable answer until it was obviously too late, so she stayed silent, picked up her pen, and after taking a drag she left it on the counter. This seemed to spark Fran’s attention, who had previously been content to just study Marla’s face from up close and during the daylight.

“So, are you going to offer me one of these,” the brunette wondered, lightly tapping with her fingertip the tip of the pen standing between them, “or a coffee… a drink… should you at least walk me to my car?”

“I will… walk you to your car,” Marla decided, after a quick and not exactly pleasant assessment of the situation. There was nothing she’d love more than to take Fran’s hand and either lead her out of that damned store or guide her to the other side of the locked door of her office. But there were already smoke signals in the air between them that she couldn’t ignore. This could be dangerous, this was possibly great, this was certainly bigger than either of them was accustomed to. Marla was stunned by the undeniable fact that she wasn’t sure how to handle Fran, and equally as unsettled but no less excited about the fact that she had no idea how Fran would handle her. She had no doubt they could handle each other, but until she felt completely confident in a perfect plan of action, she would have to see for how long and how much she could feed this ferocious and inexplicable fire that was burning between them.

As they approached Fran’s vehicle, Marla made two statements. “I will not take the money,” she said, followed by, “and that’s not a car.”

Fran winked, “My mistake.” She leaned back on the motorcycle and focused her attention on the blonde in front of her.

“I’m taking that asshole to court,” Marla managed to say, despite that unexpected and entirely alluring image of Fran standing just like that. She should have known that even the safest option among all that the brunette had offered would still come with a trick to test Marla’s hesitant boundaries.

“For something you did?”

“I’ll have to close either way,” Marla rolled her eyes, “He took me out of business. I have to take something from him. Something big.”

Fran tilted her head. “Do you have experience in court?” she wondered.

“I’m confident I can manage,” Marla smiled.

“Of course,” the other woman chuckled. “Though,” she added, “if only you had… an acquaintance, who happened to be knowledgeable in the shady alleyways of court and would be willing to give you a hand.”

Fran was barely done with her word when suddenly Marla was almost on top of her. Marla had moved quickly and swiftly, standing impossibly close to Fran, somehow not touching, but if any of them were to so much as breathe a little harder than usual their bodies would meet in all the right places. Which was maybe the reason Fran was suddenly holding her breath. Marla had placed both hands on the bike, on either side of Fran’s hips, trapping her in place, while holding her face just inches away from the other woman.

“What do you want,” Marla slowly asked, “Fran?”

“Why do you assume I want something?”

Being softly hit with Fran’s breath on her cheek was an unexpected consequence of Marla’s plan, but she held her ground. Very deliberately, one of her hands moved slowly and confidently to one of the back pockets of Fran’s pants. The brunette, to her credit, her only reaction was a noticeable clench of her jaw, but she stood still while Marla pulled out her phone and mercifully stepped away to let both of them breathe a little easier.

“Unlock it, I’ll save my number,” Marla held out Fran’s own phone for her and proceeded to follow through with her words.

Fran got her heart rate almost back to normal as she watched Marla quickly tap the screen, and deciding the only right thing to possibly say at that moment was to answer Marla’s question, she said, “Give me a percentage of the money you’ll make with the lawsuit. So I can finally quit the police.”

Beyond pleased with that answer, Marla bit her lip for a moment then returned the phone. “And here I thought you were just trying to have dinner with me,” she said to Fran right before walking away from her, but not before looking back just in time to catch the other woman staring, and adding a final smile she threw over her shoulder, “See you soon, Fran.”

#this update was sponsored by Marla 'i love your ass' Grayson #i care a lot #i care a lot fanfiction #marla x fran #fran x marla #marla grayson #fran

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notes-from-sarah · 4 years ago

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The Thimblerig Plot

Link on Fanfiction.net

Link on Archive of Our Own

Rating: T

Summary: Anakin is captured by Count Dooku and slated for execution. This is a problem for Sidious who must quickly free Anakin without arousing his current place-holder apprentice’s suspicions. Hiring a Mandalorian might be the only solution. Set during Star Wars: The Clone Wars. Lucas era canon compliant.

Chapter 1 - A Small Problem

A/N: Set after Star Wars: The Clone Wars Season 5, Episode 16. The Clone Wars Season 7/The Final Season is not considered canon for this work.

*****

"Master," Darth Tyranus' dulcet tones filtered through the static filled holo connection, "I have tremendous news to report."

The recorded message had been sent some hours ago by this point, Sidious had only just now been able to tear himself away from his duties and find out how the battle had gone. He had foreseen Tyranus' victory at Cressill and he knew that the message would contain news of the Separatist conquest. The Dark Side was a swift friend, bringing him news sometimes even years before an event.

"I have brought an end to Republic interference on Cressill. The system is now under the loving guidance of the Confederacy."

Good, thought Sidious. The fall of Cressill would weaken the entire sector and spread the Jedi even thinner than before. Soon, the Republic would be so weak that the slightest pressure would bring the whole corrupt, bloated mass tumbling down. A dark smile broke over his features.

"I am also pleased to report that I have captured alive the Jedi knight Anakin Skywalker, the so-called Hero of the Republic. I am en route to Raxus now where a highly publicized execution at the Separatist capital will take place. I think such a move will be sufficiently demoralizing for Republic forces." Tyranus' bluish holo projection waved and sputtered as the signal struggled to maintain strength.

Sidious blinked, trying to make sense of what Tyranus had said. If he executed Anakin–

"Skywalker is regularly a thorn in the side of the Separatist forces. His capture and death will put us on the path to victory." Tyranus' image looked smug and his tone was self-congratulatory. The hazy holo image somehow not managing to hide the odious man's victorious smirk.

Sidious couldn't wait to be rid of the fool.

"I will contact you when I have reached Raxus." Tyranus vanished, his curt holo transmission ending with no revelation of the count's plans once he reached the planet.

Sidious twisted his lip, this couldn't have come at a worse time. Things had to be orchestrated just so, there was no room for error in this endeavor. He needed Anakin alive, and until Anakin was his apprentice, he needed Tyranus alive. He couldn't, at this moment, be without either of them. Somehow, Anakin had to escape and Tyranus had to allow it and neither of them be any the wiser to his true role in all of this. He would have to play this round very carefully, he knew all too well that a slighted apprentice was a dangerous thing.

Sidious submerged himself in the Dark Side, only it could tell him what to do.

*****

Dooku paced back and forth in front of the cell where Anakin was held, his luxurious cape just sweeping over the floor panels of the ship. The young Jedi was currently being restrained with a combination of electro-cuffs and a few tranquilizers. No need to tempt fate, after all. The young man had been something of an ever-present pest since that day in Geonosis, now he would be rid of him for good. Kenobi's former padawan was about to deal a severe blow to the Republic's morale. Once they landed on Raxus the war would be all but over. Had he realized on Geonosis how troublesome Skywalker would eventually prove to be Dooku would have ended him immediately back then.

Anakin grunted, the tranquilizers starting to wear off.

"Awake at last," said Dooku, "I was afraid you'd be asleep for hours."

"Dooku," Anakin started to struggle to his feet, but feeling the effects of the drugs seemed to think better of it. "What slimy hole did you slither out of? You always take great pains to be as far from the front as possible, I was surprised to find you on Cressill."

"Isn't that why you were on Cressill in the first place, young Jedi? Weren't you there to capture me and bring an end to this war?" Dooku leaned on the word young knowing how provocative it would be.

Anakin scowled. "I suppose you think you have the upper hand here, don't you?"

Dooku looked pointedly at the bars and cell walls before returning his gaze to Anakin. "Yes, I do."

"Well, I wouldn't get comfortable if I were you." Anakin pulled against his cuffs a bit, but promptly stopped when the electro-cuffs began to crackle. "As usual, you play the part of the coward."

"Young one," said Dooku, brushing aside the accusation of cowardice, "you have no idea how happy your impending death makes me." It would be a delicious moment when the stupid fool met his fate. Some part of Dooku knew that destroying Anakin was the single greatest thing he could do to change the course of the war. His master would be so pleased.

Anakin shook his hair out of his eyes. "Is that supposed to scare me? You're nothing but a feeble old man, you're never going to get away with this. I'll be out of here before you know it and on my way back with my legion before you even realize I'm gone."

Dooku smirked. "I got away last time you and I went head to head, I don't see how you've changed any. Even with a thousand clone slaves I don't know what you could possibly do against the power of the Dark Side."

Anakin scowled even deeper. "Mark my words, Dooku, this will end on my terms."

"Somehow, I don't think so, young one." Dooku raised a hand to summon a droid. "Now, I think you'd best go back to sleep." Punching in a code the cell door opened enough to permit the robot entry.

The round droid hovered into the cell carrying with it a long, sharp needle.

Anakin flinched as the needle found its mark. "You're never going to win, Dooku," he managed to say as the tranquilizers took effect.

"Such a childish sentiment. Goodnight, sweet prince."

*****

Bo-Katan rose at the sound of the lock to her cell door being disengaged. True to his word, Kenobi had raised the alarm about the anarchy on Mandalore. The resulting military action on the planet had swiftly resulted in her capture and confinement. She didn't know if the Republic had quashed the violence, but she rather suspected they had not. It was most certainly still ongoing and would continue to until the day the last Mando had been bled dry.

The door slid open and a Republic guard stepped into the room, two more hovered in the corridor outside the cell. All were armed and armored. "You are summoned for an audience. Turn around so that I can cuff you and bring you to the chamber."

"Who wants to talk to me?" Bo-Katan was suspicious. She'd been here for weeks already and so far no one had given a damn that she was in custody. The fighting must not being going well. Undoubtedly they wanted her to give them information on the inner workings of Mando culture, or Death Watch in particular. Whatever they wanted was sure to strip away even more of Mandalore's independence. She had told Kenobi to tell the Republic when her sister died, she regretted doing that.

"I'm not permitted to say for security reasons. You will find out soon enough." The guard motioned for Bo-Katan to turn around, the cuffs ready in her hand.

Bo-Katan turned, holding her hands behind her back. The guard cuffed her securely and led her out of the cell.

"Don't try anything extreme," warned the guard as she brandished her weapon, "I know you Mandalorians all have a death wish and I'm not about to get in trouble because of some suicidal heroics."

…

Bo-Katan was led into a spacious room with a huge picture window. Coruscant was big on a scale that was almost unimaginable. Mandalore seemed like a child's dollhouse in comparison. She stared at the traffic flow in the twilight sky, it was almost mesmerizing.

"Hello, Lady Kryze, it's good to see you finally."

Bo-Katan turned to see none other than the supreme chancellor. His neat hair and velvet robes the polar opposite of her own far shabbier appearance. She glanced the elderly man up and down as he strode across the room to his desk where he took a seat. She was fairly certain she could take him and escape custody if she really wanted too. She was a Mandalorian warrior, after all. And he? Just a withered prune. "Chancellor," her voice was cool, but not nearly as cold as Satine's would have been, her sister had had a talent for bone-chilling iciness. "To what do I owe the honor?"

The chancellor smiled blandly at her. "No need for the hostile tone, Lady Kryze. I apologize that I have not looked into your predicament till now. Your plight is a most stirring one, but I'm afraid the labors of the war have kept my every moment busy until just now."

Bo-Katan despised being patronized. "I thought the Republic would be ecstatic that they have a chance to grab another system for their side." She took a step closer to the desk. Asking Kenobi to bring in the Republic had certainly been a mistake. "Unless the Republic's takeover isn't going well and you've decided that you need my help." She would never forgive those offworlders who had killed everyone she loved and tore her planet to pieces.

"That is not quite why I asked you here today." Palpatine gave her a watery, meaningless smile. "In fact, I do believe the outside forces on Mandalore have expelled, much of the current fighting is between various factions of Mandalorians. I actually wanted to speak to you about you." Palpatine leaned back in his chair and observed her for a long moment.

Bo-Katan waited for him to continue. The cuffs chafed against her wrists and she twisted her hands uncomfortably in the silence.

"You, Lady Kryze, are a bit of an enigma." Palpatine folded his hands together. "Ostensibly, you are fighting against Separatist forces on Mandalore, and are in line with the Republic, so really you should go free and lead the anti-Separatist faction on Mandalore."

Bo-Katan was certain there was a however coming up somewhere.

"However," Palpatine continued, "that does not absolve you of your affiliation with Death Watch and it's anti-democratic activities. Death Watch has committed serious crimes against the Republic."

Here comes the deal, thought Bo-Katan. Whatever he offered she would very likely have to accept it. It wasn't so easy to get to Mandalore from the inside of a cell.

Palpatine rose and walked behind her. Releasing the lock on the cuffs he freed her hands. "I think the Republic will be able to overlook your past indiscretions on account of services rendered."

Bo-Katan turned to face the old man again. "And what services are those?"

"The Republic needs you, Lady Kryze. This war has too many fronts, it's impossible for the Jedi or the Grand Army to be everywhere they are needed. The Republic has need of a stealthy and cunning warrior, such as yourself, to complete an urgent mission behind enemy lines."

"What's in it for me, why should I risk my neck for a government I don't believe in?" Bo-Katan wasn't going to mince words. He had better have something good to offer.

"If you complete this task then you have my word that the Republic will back you to reclaim the throne of Mandalore. I can offer you money, troops, weapons, whatever you need to take back what is yours." Palpatine placed the cuffs on his desk. "However, if you are unable to accomplish the mission, then I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to appoint a provisional council to govern Mandalore. Regrettably, such a council is unlikely to have any Mandalorian members, after all, most of them are caught up in a civil war and are of dubious loyalty to the Republic."

There it was, as neat a deal as could be offered. Bo-Katan crossed her arms over her chest. The Republic couldn't get away with this forever. For now, though, she'd have to acquiesce. She looked the old man square in the eye. "So, what's the mission?"

#Star Wars #Star Wars: The Clone Wars #Bo-Katan Kryze #Boba Fett #Asajj Ventress #Anakin Skywalker #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Rescue Mission #Action/Adventure #Mandalorians #Jedi #Sith #Pic from the official Star Wars website

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thedefinitionofendgame · 4 years ago

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Love Is Enough

Surrera and Station 19 family multi-chap | Rated T | Canon-compliant

*spoilers for season 4 of station 19*

A/N: we all knew I was going to write a fic about the s4 finale after it ended the way it did. I am very upset at the writers for portraying Sullivan in the way they did—they did him dirty 110%. anyways, that’s where I come in with a fix-it fic. while all events that took place in the finale did happen prior to the start of this fic, that’s where similarities end. this is how Surrera makes it back to each other and how Sullivan makes it up to the team. also cute marina scenes because they’re married now (the only good part of the finale)

•

You can read this work on ao3 as well ; Prequel fic for Code Red

Written & cover by @thedefinitionofendgame

Chapter 1 - I Don't Know How

Andy was beginning to regret sleeping on the couch. When she had moved into Sullivan’s place after their marriage, she wasn’t so sure about a brown leather couch that had stiff rectangle sides. It turned out to be a good couch for movie watching and pretty sturdy for sex, but sleeping was a whole different story. Especially after seven days of this.

Sullivan—her husband but she had resorted to calling him only by his last name when she was mad—had told her that she could sleep in their bed and that he’d take the couch. But Andy was too angry to accept any pity from him. She could barely look at him, and wished she could just sleep at the station. However, with everything happening, the station was worse than sleeping in the same house as him. A traitor to her, her station 19 family and most of all to her best friend Maya. While it was out of respect for her best friend that she was angry at Sullivan, she was also just pissed off that he would try yet again to move up the ranks fast. Who on Earth ever thought that was a good idea? Clearly not Sullivan, because if he had stopped that thought for a goddamn moment, he wouldn’t have tried to swoop in and take Maya’s job.

“Stupid vulture,” Andy muttered under her breath, as she rolled over two inches and ended up off the couch. He was vulture-like; swooping in and stealing something that wasn’t his. Vultures ate dead animals on the sides of roads and Sullivan moving in after Maya’s captaincy job went up in flames, was really no different. Yes, Andy quite liked her new comparison of her husband to a vulture.

Unfortunately, Sullivan walked downstairs at that moment to see her smirking. “Something funny?” He asked, in the husky voice that he used only in the morning before his coffee. Ugh, she needed to take her mind off that immediately.

“No.” Andy refused to meet his gaze. Picking up the blanket she had stolen off their bed, she moved to climb the stairs. “I am going to take a shower and get ready. You better be out of this house by the time I return downstairs.”

Sullivan sighed. He had tried for the past week to try to get his wife to hear him out, but she wasn’t having it. He knew how stubborn and headstrong she was, although he never thought she would ever use it for longer than a couple hours on him. After day two, Sullivan found out he was very wrong. So he just begrudgingly agreed to whatever she told him. “Alright. You do know we could drive together? Save money on gas.”

“There is no way I’m sitting in the same car with you for the twenty minute drive to work. I can barely be in the same room as you for two.” With a final swish of her hair over her shoulder, she climbed the stairs and slammed their bedroom door behind her.

Sighing louder this time, Sullivan poured himself a coffee and leaned against the kitchen counter to drink it. He could hear the water start upstairs and he wished that he and Andy weren’t fighting. For reasons other than sex, of course. But his mind couldn’t help but wander because on a regular day he would’ve chased her to the bathroom and had his way with her. Clearly that wasn’t going to happen for a very long time now. Knowing he had better be gone by the time Andy got out of the shower, Sullivan quickly downed his coffee, grabbed his keys, wallet and phone, then left wondering if it was always going to be like this. He sure hoped not.

»«

When she emerged from the shower in a cloud of steam, Andy listened at the door for movement and wondered if Sullivan had actually left or not. She stepped outside of the bedroom but was met with silence. Andy silently thanked her husband for leaving; he had finally taken the hint that she didn’t want to hear his excuses. What he had done was unforgivable, and frankly Andy didn’t know if she would ever be able to look at him the same way. He really thought that it would be possible to justify his actions after everything that happened. Maybe Maya losing her job had been inevitable, yet it was not inevitable for Sullivan to volunteer himself for the captaincy position.

Andy thought she knew her husband. She thought she knew the man she had fallen in love with. While she understood how being demoted had affected him, mentally and physically, that did not mean he could go and take Maya’s captaincy job. When she had found out what he did, there had been so much yelling and screaming, Andy was surprised the neighbours didn’t call over wondering what the hell was going on. Her behaviour at the wedding was two days after what happened, and she was still steaming with anger.

Now, Andy was mad. But she wasn’t upset so much as disappointed. Yeah, that was what she felt. Disappointment. Nearly everyone she knew had been flabbergasted to say the least, that she had married the battalion chief after dating him in secret for a few months. Heck, Andy was a bit surprised herself. Yet Maya Bishop had stuck by her side and congratulated her about her marriage, even when the rest of the station freaked out. Travis and Vic had calmed down soon enough, though Jack seemed to be the most judgmental. Rightfully so, as Andy had turned down Jack’s proposal ages ago but accepted Sullivan’s when it was even more of a surprise. That didn’t mean Andy hadn’t been a bit hurt about it, and she had even ranted to Maya about everyone’s reactions later that night. Maya and Andy had had their rough moments—what friendship didn’t, was the real question—although in the end they were there for each other. They stuck up for each other, and they stood beside one another. Andy agreed with Maya’s call that day with the young boy who needed to get to a hospital as fast as possible. In the same situation, Andy would’ve done the same thing. She had been very tempted to tell Fire Chief McAllister that fact herself. Fear of losing her own job held her back at the time but now she wanted nothing more than to storm his office and tell him just what she thought.

Ugh, he just makes me so mad! Andy thought, slamming down her hairbrush. There were tangles in her curls still, yet she couldn’t be bothered to get rid of them. Instead she twisted her hair into a low bun and threw on some clothes. Time to face another day of work. Maybe she would go see Maya afterwards, and share her new nickname for Sullivan with her. At least that might make her smile. Maya could use all the love she could get right now, although luckily Carina was there to put her wife through the motions everyday…

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“Do you want me to go over there and punch him?” Carina asked, pacing up and down the short hallway between their living room and bedroom. “Because I will, and I don’t think he wants to hear an Italian woman screaming at him alongside the stinging blow to the face.”

Maya tried to smile to let her wife know that she was thankful for the sentiment, but everything was just too fresh to make a joke about. “No. I don’t want that. Plus what would Andy say?”

Carina’s eyes narrowed, then she relaxed them and the corners of her mouth turned up. “I heard Andy’s been arguing with Sullivan non-stop at the station. Even giving him the silent treatment. Like she said the other day, she’s on your side. So I personally believe she’d thank me if I decided to punch her husband.”

“Haha.” Maya finally laughed even though inside she felt like crying. It had been five days since she had lost her job. Lost her standing as captain and the respect it had built. She had been the first captain of Station 19, and frankly one of the first captains of the SFD. And for what, to be demoted back to firefighter for a small protocol issue? Damn, well clearly someone had it out for her from the beginning.

It made her feel a little bit better, though, to know that Andy was on her side. She could easily have taken her husband’s but she chose her best friend’s side. That was some dedication. Maya just hoped Andy and Sullivan’s marriage would be okay. She remembered making comments about their marriage on her own wedding day and how perfect they were. Little did Maya know at the time, Andy and Sullivan were fighting behind closed doors about his choice to swoop in and attempt to steal Maya’s job.

At this point, she didn’t even know what was going on at the station. Maya hadn’t been back to work since she got demoted, mainly because she had planned to take time off after her wedding. She and Carina couldn’t travel anywhere due to COVID restrictions, but they had planned to lounge around and have sex all day long. So much for those plans. It was yet another thing Maya was sorry about, and would need to make up for in the future. Luckily Carina didn’t seem to have a problem with their plans being cancelled. She preferred to play the game of “what other way can I make Sullivan miserable” every minute. Even though Maya knew Carina wouldn’t follow through with any of them, some of the things she thought up were sort of clever. The answers ranged from filling his turnout boots with lego bricks, to kicking him in the shins; both things Maya had thought about doing the day after she found out her verdict.

While Maya wasn’t anywhere near ready to forgive Sullivan, she certainly wasn’t as angry with him as Carina was. She was hurt and confused, but not angry. Which surprised Maya, because she normally jumped to conclusions when it came to wrong-doings. Though maybe Maya was growing as a person after this demotion. God, it still hurt to think about it.

Maya swung her feet off the couch and stood up. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announced.

Carina stopped pacing immediately. “Would you like company?”

Sadly, Maya shook her head. “No thanks, babe. But I would love some of the soup you made last night.”

“Okay, I’ll warm some up right now.” Carina quickly came over and wrapped her arms around Maya. “I love you, no matter what. I married you for you and I’m prepared to be here for all of it; the good, the bad and the ugly.”

“I love you too,” Maya said and leaned into her wife’s embrace. Maybe one day things would be okay. But clearly not for a very, very long time.

#station 19 #station 19 fic #surrera #sullivan x andy #robert sullivan #andy herrera #fix-it fic #code red prequel #the definition of endgame

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queencarolinemikaelson · 5 years ago

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Beyond Mikaelson

Klaroline Bingo as hosted by @klaroline-events Prompt // Dagger

This is set early season three, and is fairly canon compliant until then, except Caroline is an Original. Very Mikaelson heavy, and a little bit gruesome/gory in parts. It’s also very long.

This will be my last contribution to KC Bingo, thank you so much to the team at @klaroline-events! I wouldn’t have got any of these out without prompting, and I’m glad to have participated in another fandom event! xxx

“Rebekah, where are you? Pick up the phone darling, daddy’s dead. It’s time for a family reunion.”

Klaus Mikaelson’s phone beeped quietly, signalling he had a call waiting on another line.

The hybrid couldn’t help the smug smirk that crossed his lips as the name Stefan Salvatore flashed on the screen.

This was going to be fun.

“Stefan! Miss me already?”

“I’m just calling to thank you for my freedom,” Stefan said on the other end of the phone, sounding far too sardonic.

“Well I like to believe I’m a man of my word… more or less,” Klaus smirked.

“The thing is,” Stefan continued. “It came at too high of a price. You took everything from me, Klaus.”

“Let bygones be bygones, trust me. Resentment gets old.”

“You know what never gets old?” Stefan asked, in a tone that had alarm bells ringing in Klaus’ mind. “Revenge.”

As the line went dead, and Klaus opened the back of his van, only to reveal nothing, Stefan’s words truly sank in.

And Klaus felt a white-hot rage bubble through his veins; a rage unprovoked in centuries.

It would be weeks until Klaus’ coffins were returned, and when they were, Klaus’ shoulders sagged in relief.

They were safe.

They were home.

They could be whole again; all five of them.

Wait… five?

Any shred of tension that left his body instantly returned.

There were five coffins, five.

Klaus often thought of there being only five in his family, which was likely why it took him so long to cotton to the fact he shouldn’t have five coffins.

He should have six.

Quaking with unparalleled rage, and a panic long lost to time, Klaus tore at the lids from the caskets, flinging each open so roughly he nearly destroyed their hinges.

Elijah.

Finn.

Rebekah.

Kol.

Klaus squeezed his eyes together for a moment, as he stood before the final coffin, knowing everything had a fifty-fifty chance of being okay. If they were together, they would be okay.

But as Klaus tried to open the box, he was met with complete resistance.

And he knew, that box belonged to his mother.

And he just knew, they had her.

His hands shaking, Klaus pulled his phone from his pocket, dialling Stefan’s number.

“Hello there Klaus, not the family reunion you were expecting?”

The young vampire sounded so gleeful that Klaus mentally signed his death wish then and there. Their history be damned, there was no repenting for this.

“Where is the sixth coffin, Stefan?” he asked, his voice shaking as much as his hands.

“Well, see, the thing is Klaus, we found your little cave paintings. We can account for everyone in the coffins, except for this one. She’s quite beautiful, isn’t she? I’m not letting loose an unknown entity in my town, Klaus. Not now. Not ever.”

“Stefan, I suggest you listen…”

“No, Klaus, you listen,” Stefan interrupted. “You’ll get a map. You’ll be able to find at least some of her. And that’s a promise.”

“Stefan, if I do not have her back before sunset, you will regret it.”

“You took everything from me, Klaus,” Stefan cried, his gleeful composure making way for his true anger. “I can’t regret anything anymore than I already do.”

“You have five hours, Stefan. For the sake of this town I hope you hand over my box,” Klaus said, coldly. “The consequences of this will be yours, and yours alone.”

Klaus hung up. He didn’t need any more of Stefan’s amateur postulating.

Nothing mattered, not without her.

Without much more than a heartbeat, Klaus circled the room, removing each dagger from the chests of his siblings.

He couldn’t worry about how they would react to him.

Not now.

It took nearly three hours before all his siblings were awake, each waking in their own time; Bekah first, Finn last.

And during that time, it had become quite apparent that, Elijah and Finn at least would not be easily swayed into helping him.

“I don’t much care that you finally killed our Father, I will never mistake our brotherhood for trustworthiness again, Niklaus,” Finn said, in the old, awkward tongue they all once spoke.

“I’m afraid I may have to agree with our eldest brother,” Elijah said, coldly, true betrayal shining in his eyes.

“I never trusted any of you,” Kol said melodramatically, eager to stir the pot. Yes, he was a little miffed that he’d been in a box for about 200 years – but had daggered and undaggered his brothers (never Bekah though) many times himself over the years. Who was he to judge?

It was Rebekah – of course it was Rebekah – who first noticed Klaus’ haunted expression.

“What is it, Nik,” she whispered, fearing the answer.

“It’s Caroline,” he said.

Her name dropped from his lips like a secret, and immediately every Mikaelson ear was tuned in, and listening.

“They have Caroline.”

Caroline was a name buried by time. It was a secret more fiercely protected than any other the Mikaelsons’ held. For she always was their saviour.

“Who are they?” Finn asked.

“The vampire who has her is named Stefan Salvatore. I need your help. We can’t let him hurt her,” Klaus explained, his sparing vulnerability revealed, even if fleetingly.

Klaus’ vulnerability, coupled with their love for their baby sister, steeled the nerves of the Mikaelson siblings. Klaus may have long since given up his right for family trust, and may have done vile and cruel things to each of them over the years. But then they all had.

Except for Caroline. Her unwavering support and love for them transcended the centuries they lived together. She would care for them, laugh with them, cry with them. And through it all, she brought a sparkling joy to their lives.

Until one day, the horrors of being a Mikaelson caught up with her, and she tried to leave. She did it with such grace; such respect.

But they had not taken kindly to her desertion, and had laid to to rest because of it.

There wasn’t a waking moment since that day, when each Mikaelson hadn’t felt their guilt keenly.

“I hope she forgives us,” Kol said quietly.

“Let’s just… get her back first,” Finn said.

“What do you need us to do?”

Caroline’s eyes were shut as she began wriggling her toes, revelling in the feeling of stretching through the awful stiffness. In her first moments awake, she felt dread and betrayal, though she couldn’t for the life of her work out where those emotions came from…

Birds were chirping in the distance, the air was fresh, and it seemed like an all-round good day to be alive.

Though she was almost instantly disabused of that notion, as she made a move to roll over, and was met with searing pains shooting through her body.

Her eyes flew open, and her heart raced, as she took in her unfamiliar surroundings; very low light, menacing stone walls, vervain soaked ropes and chains firmly tying her to a jagged wooden table. A bloodied silver dagger was on the ground, not too far from her, as though it had been pulled from her and tossed away.

A dagger.

And suddenly, Caroline’s agonised confusion made way for terrible remembrance.

“I want to travel alone for a while.”

Caroline spoke so softly, but so resolutely, that the light mood around the table seemed to still, as her statement was met with looks of confusion.

“I beg your pardon?” Elijah said, incredulously, breaking the silence after a moment.

“I want to travel alone,” her voice was steady, but she dared not meet anyone’s eyes just yet. “I love every single one of you, more than my heart can bear. But families are meant to go their separate ways at some point, to live as their own souls.”

Caroline began fiddling with her fingers nervously, but continued to speak, knowing this was her only chance to convince them of her pure intentions.

“And we are a family cursed with eternity. Yes, we are sometimes stronger together, but we’re also angrier, bloodier, more terrifying. I want to discover a world beyond our existence, we have eternity to be together, what will a few decades, maybe a century, of time alone mean in a thousand years?”

“It’ll mean you left us for a few decades, maybe a century,” Finn said, coolly. “Are we not enough for you, little sister?”

“No, it’s not…”

“Caroline, you can’t leave,” Rebekah began.

“You are our sister,” Kol pleaded.

And thus, the damn of silence was broken, each sibling layering their own heartbreak and panic over the next.

“How could you possibly do this?”

“Are we that horrible a –”

“What did I ever –”

“This desertion is –”

“Please, Caroline, please.”

The only to remain silent was Klaus, fury and fear etched in every line of his face, choosing instead to regard her with the coldest of eyes – silence had always been his knife of choice with her.

“We’ll be better. I’ll try and –”

“Who on earth will –”

“You are to leave us, just like them, and –”

“ENOUGH!”

Her own anger and frustration at their judgement of her bubbled over and she couldn’t help the as the scream leapt from her mouth, her eyes turning dark, veins snaking up her face.

“Would this have been easier if I left with absolutely no warning? If I just snuck off in the middle of the night? Without saying goodbye?” Caroline asked, disbelievingly, into the silence her loss of control had created. “I love each and everyone of you, and we will see each other again. But I just want to live, for myself.”

There was silence for another moment, until Klaus finally spoke up.

“And what if Mikael finds you?”

His voice was frank, nearly nasty, and Caroline wished her husband could understand.

“He won’t, I will be less conspicuous on my own,” Caroline replied softly, the sad truth of her statement wracking through her family.

Klaus glared at her, the fear of losing her slowly seeping from his body before their very eyes, making way for only fury.

“Oh yes, Caroline, run away like the little girl from the village who could never see me with Tatia. Run away like the true Forbes your blood says you are. Remember when your parents ran from you? Because you were a monster? You will always be a monster, Caroline.”

His voice was malicious, cruel, but Caroline knew him, she knew him better than anyone, and she knew this was his way of making it hurt less.

It didn’t make it okay, but it did steel within her that this was the right choice for her.

“It won’t be forever, Nik, I promise,” Caroline said, gently placing a hand over his. “Just a little while.”

And with that, and all the grace in the world, Caroline rose, and smiled wanly at those around the table.

“I’m going to bed for the night, we can resume this discussion in the morning.”

As she retreated, she thought she heard Elijah say, “what are we to do about this?” but she blocked it out. Her mind was made up, their pleas and arguments for her to stay would not sway her.

The next morning, Caroline woke just after daybreak. She felt somewhat numb, as she relived the previous evening, but relieved that she finally shared her desires.

She rose quickly, and decided to prepare a meal for them all to share; a last supper of sorts.

As she bustled to the kitchen, she was surprised to find Rebekah already there, as the other woman usually liked to stay in bed far later than dawn.

“Good morning, Bekah,” Caroline said, softly smiling at her, as she leant against the bench next to her sister. “You’re up early.”

A flicker of something unreadable flashed over Rebekah’s face before it was extinguished with a warm smile.

“I feel awful about last night, I couldn’t sleep,” Rebekah said, real sorrow in her eyes, as she took Caroline’s hand. “You’re my sister, Caroline, and I don’t want you to leave.”

“I know, my love,” Caroline said, resting her head on Rebekah’s shoulder. “You could come with me, you know, the Mikaelson girls against the world.”

Rebekah frowned, and Caroline’s face lit up excitedly.

“Yes! Just imagine, we could go wherever we want, love whomever we please,” Caroline’s face fell a little before continuing. “I love Nik, always and forever, but it’s been over 200 years since our wedding. I think I’ve seen him share his love with dozens upon dozens of others, because I understand that life for us is different. But he’s never shown me the same mercy. Not once.”

“I could come?” Rebekah said, her mind racing with the possibilities. “What about wanting to leave us?”

“It’s not about leaving you, or any of you, it’s about living beyond this family. Living as Caroline, not as a Mikaelson. Don’t you ever want to just live slowly? Where the day is cherished, and longed for, rather than feared?”

“We have to fear the day, Caroline, we are vampires!”

“Yes, the original vampires that can only be killed by our deranged father! Living slowly means we won’t have to fear Mikael’s retribution, because he will never be able to find us!”

For a moment, Rebekah let herself dream of a life beyond the Mikaelson name. A life with only Caroline by her side, as sisters. Her sister had always been the best of her family – the most compassionate, the gentlest, the kindest.

But she shook herself; that life could not happen. That life belonged to a girl who died many years ago.

“Caroline, it is a life I do not want, I love my brothers too much.”

The two blondes looked sadly at each other, until Caroline squeezed the hand still holding Rebekah’s and sprung into action.

“Well, let us not waste this day then, my dear sister!” she said brightly. “I was going to cook a feast for our family, care to help me?”

Rebekah smiled, and nodded. Caroline once again missing the flash of guilt across her sister’s face.

It was a few hours before the two women finished their creation, and Caroline sent Bekah away to gather their brothers for the meal, as she picked up the final dish for the table.

It was a beautifully decorated ceramic dish her family purchased her as a gift, even before the six of them turned. She had treasured it and cared for it ever since. She would undoubtedly miss this place, her family, and all the adventures that came along with them – but she hoped it would do some good; learn that a family can exist as individuals.

“Good morning,” Caroline said cheerfully, as she made it to the dining area where each of her siblings were awkwardly standing around waiting for her. “Where’s Niklaus?”

She peered around, trying to find the eyes of her husband. In her distraction, Caroline didn’t notice the predatory ring her family was making around her, until she heard a light ‘whooshing’ sound, and suddenly her husband was in front of her, a glinting silver dagger in his grasp.

“I’m sorry, Caroline,” he whispered, as he plunged it into her chest.

As a reflex, Caroline’s hands flew to grasp her husband’s arms, her beautiful dish falling from her hands, becoming a mess on the tiles below.

“Please, have mercy, Niklaus,” she gurgled, as the ice cold pain worked its way through her body from her heart outwards. Her eyes flicked to the faces of her siblings, and it absolutely shattered her heart to see them watch this happen – knowing they knew this was coming.

Her eyes flicked back to Klaus’ in her last moment, and she didn’t see regret or remorse or love. She saw only fear.

Caroline let the memories and pain wash over her, and cursed herself for not being more like her family.

For if she had listened to their scheming that night, had been more mistrustful she would have learned that fleeing in the middle of the night is what she should have done.

She let out a desolate sob.

She sobbed out of fear of not knowing where she was, or when she was. She sobbed out of utter desperation for the pain shooting now constantly through her body. And she sobbed out of deep, deep betrayal at the hand of those she so loved.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

A snide voice came from a shrouded corner of the room, and Caroline was immediately silent. Her grief was for her alone, not this stranger.

“Torture time!”

The man moved from the shadows, to reveal a sadistic, smug smile – that was not dissimilar to an expression that was common on Niklaus’ face – and within an instant, had buried a jagged-edged knife into her side.

Caroline winced at the pain, but did her best to remain silent and defiant, unwilling to give this cretin the satisfaction.

“I’m going to chop you into little tiny pieces and make a scavenger hunt for the Hybrid that wants you back so desperately.”

He continued speaking as he stabbed her, and cut chunks from her flesh, but Caroline couldn’t decipher any of his words, the language he spoke far different from any she recognised.

So she did what she did best, she remained silent, and somewhat calm throughout terrible violence.

She nearly chuckled to herself at how compliant she had always been with her family. Letting them destroy towns and lives, for no reason other than the sport of it. And for them to repay that loyalty with a silver dagger, and goodness knows how many years in a coffin…

She was sickened with herself.

Klaus’s leg was twitching anxiously, waiting for the communications to come from his siblings.

The minute he had the green light, he would tear Stefan’s world down, piece by pathetic piece, for even considering toying with Caroline.

His phone buzzed with Rebekah’s name.

“Little sister?”

“Hello brother, almost every thing is in place. Finn has the quarterback and the teacher, I’ve got the doppelganger, thank you for lending me you electric razor, by the way! Kol has the witch and the doppelganger’s brother. The only issue is Elijah can’t find Damon.”

Klaus gritted his teeth.

“I think we might just start without Damon, then; we can’t wait any longer. Have Elijah help Kol instead,” Klaus said.

“And have you done your part, brother?”

“Of course I have,” Klaus snapped.

It was agreed that to lure to bait out, unfamiliar faces would be best – giving Finn, Kol, and even Elijah to an extent an advantage over Rebekah and Klaus. Though, Rebekah had put her foot down, saying she ‘dibs-ed’ the doppelganger.

And thus, Klaus’ task was to line the perimeter of the Salvatore estate with gasoline, and maybe something explosive, then dig a fire break around it, so if Stefan decided not to talk, they could control burn his life around his wretched ears.

“Are you on route?”

“Yes, we’re about five minutes away, I suppose,” Rebekah said.

“Make sure you all stagger your arrival for maximum impact,” Klaus ordered. “I want Stefan to feel hope until the very last moment.”

Without another word, Klaus hung up his call to Rebekah, and sprang into action.

And before those five minutes were up, Klaus was pulling up outside the Salvatore boarding house. He knocked commandingly on the front door, and was infuriated when he was met with a smug smirk from his former friend.

“Stefan, lovely to see you mate, I’m here to collect my prize.”

“Your prize, Klaus, isn’t here. As I said, you will never see her again, not in one piece anyway.”

For Caroline’s sake, Klaus did everything in his power to keep his calm.

“Well, in that case, perhaps we can remake an episode of This Is Your Life?”

As if on cue, Finn arrived, flashing to the front and dumping the unconscious bodies of Alaric and Matt at Stefan’s feet.

“Finn, brother, apparently Mr Salvatore here has plans to mince our darling sister, perhaps you could show him the same courtesy, using these two as surrogates of course.”

“With pleasure.”

Stefan looked between the two brothers, confused and wary, having been unable to decipher much of what they were saying.

But the meaning of the sentence wasn’t missed, as the brown haired Mikaelson bent down, and ripped the finger encasing the Gilbert ring clean from Alaric’s body, before turning to dislocate Matt’s shoulder, leaving it pointing in a wholly unnatural direction.

“Now I will ask again, Stefan, where is she?”

“I will never tell you,” Stefan spat, coldly disregarding the suffering of his friends.

“On your own head,” Klaus said, taking a step back, as Elijah and Kol, arrived on the scene, each restraining a struggling body.

“What would be the best way to torture these two?” Klaus mused aloud to his brothers.

“This one’s true torture will come in due course,” Elijah said, nonchalantly, his vice grip clamped around the muscular arms of Jeremy Gilbert. “However, I suppose I could inflict some physical torture. For effect, of course.”

“Well it’s easy for this pretty little thing,” Kol said, grinning wickedly, biting into his wrist, as forcing it to the mouth of Bonnie Bennett. “Break that connection with nature, become that disgusting creature she reviles so much.”

“Please, stop. Let me go,” Bonnie said, weakly, struggling meekly against Kol’s strong grip. “Stefan please, I can’t turn.”

“Tick-tock, Stefan, time does march on,” Klaus said. “Where is she?”

“I will not tell you,” Stefan said, furiously ignoring Bonnie’s whimpering pleas, or Jeremy’s grunts of pain.

“Fine then. Rebekah!” Klaus hollered over his shoulder.

Stefan furiously hoped they hadn’t found her. He’d told her to stay inside, to not come out for any reason. Surely she would be safe, surely she had –

But he was cut off mid-thought as a swath of brown hair was thrown in his face, and Elena’s perfect face came into view.

Stefan’s knees nearly buckled, taking in her appearance. Her face was tear-streaked, yes, but that was hardly noticeable through the blood dripping down her face from her mangled head, large chunks of skin ripped from her skull.

“I thought I would arrest her of that horribly boring hair of hers,” Rebekah said, poisonously. “It was just so straight all the time.”

“Stefan,” Elena snivelled. “Please, just tell them what they want, please.”

Stefan’s nostrils flared, and fury, and agony coursed through his veins.

“I will kill her Stefan,” Rebekah stated, her hands placing her hands on either side of Elena’s garbled face.

“What about his hybrids,” Elena said, desperately trying to bargain for her own life. “Without me, you don’t get anymore hybrids.

“You broke the curse, brother?” Kol asked.

Klaus smirked in replied and flicked his eyebrows.

“Well, congratulations!”

In lieu of responding, Klaus menacingly strode toward were Rebekah suspended Elena by her head in mid air.

“Without Caroline, hybrids mean nothing to me,” Klaus spat in her face. “So someone tell me, or all six of your pathetic little lives will be snuffed out in the most horrific way possible. And then I will find that horrendous brother, and snuff him as well. Then burn this town, and all its residents to the ground.”

The four conscious Mystic Falls residents stoically kept their silence, for a few moments, until Klaus said, “Fine then, Elijah!”

Before anyone could blink, Elijah had broken Jeremy’s back, and the young boy gargled out a cry of pain.

“No!” Elena shrieked.

“He has approximately a minute left, we can still heal him,” Klaus said, in a sing-song voice, radiating a wrath Stefan never thought possible. “Bonnie is next on the menu, and if she dies, well, we all know her fate.”

“She’s in the Lockwood cellar! With Damon,” Elena sobbed.

“Elena, no!”

“Please just help Jeremy, I need Jeremy.”

“Well, then, that wasn’t so hard,” Klaus said, as he narrowed a smirk at Stefan. “Heal the boy, Elijah. Then make them unable to follow us.”

Each Mikaelson sibling delivered a blow to their charge, and suddenly all was silent, as the whimpers and grunts of pain made way for heavy breathing.

“Does anyone actually know where this ‘Lockwood cellar’ actually is,” Kol said, letting Bonnie’s body flop unceremoniously to the dirt below.

“Well, no but I’m sure it can’t be that hard to find, given that there is a ‘Lockwood Estate’ only a few miles from here,” Klaus said. “Uh-uh-uh.”

It was at that moment Stefan attempted to run, though he made the mistake of passing Klaus, who stuck his hand out and grabbed the young vampire by the neck.

“You took everything from me, Klaus, and now this?”

“I warned you very clearly, Stefan,” Klaus said, coldly. “You and your gang have been quite lucky with your upper hand over me during the sacrifice. But I don’t fight with vigour much anymore, nothing is worth it. But you reunited the Mikaelson family, but kept one of our own to do with as you please.”

Klaus dug his fingers into Stefan’s neck, puncturing hole straight into his windpipe, and watched avidly as the blood drained from the wound.

“But Caroline, she is worth fighting for.”

Klaus dropped Stefan to the ground, only to stake him twice a moment later, one through each leg.

“Can’t you kill him already?” Rebekah whined.

“No.”

“Can we still set the fire, at least?” Kol grinned, his eyes lighting up.

“Why not,” Klaus mused.

It had been over an hour of this man striking and maiming her. And she desolately thought that perhaps in whatever time it was now, not even her family were there for her anymore.

Throughout the hour, the man, who had identified himself as ‘Damon Salvatore’ – what a strange name – had moved her from being tied to a wooden plank, to being hung from the ceiling on suspended metal hooks.

“I had these installed, just for you,” he simpered, at some point or other, though Caroline still did not understand the language he spoke.

She was in desperate agony, as this man had arrested her of her fingers, then her hands, and now he was working on her legs. She still refused to give him the satisfaction of showing him how pained she truly was, but even she wasn’t sure why she was trying to be so stoic.

Damon raised a wooden knife to her face, and was just about to drag it across her cheek when there was a violent crash from above.

He whipped around, but before he could do anything, a figure flashed into the dark dungeon and slammed his body into the stone wall.

In her haze, she couldn’t quite make out the face, but at that moment, she lost her battle with consciousness and fell back into blackness once more.

“I know it’s impossible for her to be dead, but do you think she’s dead?”

“Shut it, Kol, she’ll be awake soon.”

“She’s had blood though, why isn’t she stronger?”

“The magic literally had to heal a foot, hands, fingers and ear that was cut off, obviously that’s going to take longer than a little gash in the palm.”

The first thing Caroline registered when she began to regain consciousness was the unmistakable sound of her siblings having a whispered argument. She’d heard similar conversations many times over their lives; outside doors they shouldn’t be outside of, over someone who was sleeping, in a crowded room of too many prying ears.

Though, unlike those times, she couldn’t understand what they were saying, for they too spoke in the same foreign tongue the man in the dungeon had spoken.

She nearly shuddered as she remembered the ordeal in the dungeon, but she didn’t want to reveal her consciousness just yet.

Though it didn’t seem as though she had a chance to rest any longer, as she felt a soft hand pick up her own and squeeze it.

“Caroline,” he said. “I know you awake.”

He spoke in a tongue she recognised, and that, more than anything, compelled Caroline to open her eyes. Her gaze was met with Klaus, his own eyes filled to the brim with love and care – very much at odds with how they looked the last time she saw them.

“Hello Niklaus,” she said, her voice small and delicate.

“Caroline!”

In an instant, each of her siblings were crowded around her, all of them vying for her attention; all of them saying how much they missed her, how sorry they were, making excuses for what they did to her.

“What year is it?” she said, ignoring their words, her voice trembling a little.

“2011.”

It was Klaus’ admission, not too small to take responsibility of his actions, though each sibling had nearly a thousand years’ worth of guilt on their face.

“2011?” she repeated. “So, I’ve been daggered in that box for…”

“Nearly nine hundred years,” Elijah finished.

“If it makes you feel any better, Caroline,” Finn said. “They got me only about 200 years after you, and I was only woken a few days ago.”

“Yes, and me and Bekah have been in and out of the boxes since about then as well.”

“Is this a joke to you?” she levelled Kol, who at the decency to look a little ashamed.

Caroline’s cold gaze moved to her husband – though it nearly revolted her to call him that now.

“And you… you’ve been living… awake… that whole time.”

“Yes, my love,” Klaus said, his deepest shame staring him in the face. “I will do anything to ensure your forgiveness. I love you, Caroline.”

Tears began to well in Caroline’s eyes at his proclamation. For he, still, after over 800 years apart loved her – or so he said.

And for Caroline, her love for him, and for her family, had not been time-tested. She had fallen asleep what felt like yesterday, and then woken up today, no time having passed at all. She loved them all like she loved them then – though their deep and unjust betrayal of her battled to be acknowledged.

“How is one supposed to live in 2011,” she asked. “You all seem to speak the same strange language that the man in the dungeon spoke.”

“It’s called English,” Kol said. “Old Finn over hear isn’t very familiar with it either, though he’s taken to it quite quickly.”

“There’s really a lot of things you would need to catch up on…” Rebekah said.

“Clothes, cars, television.”

“Electricity! The internet.”

“Hot showers – I guess, showers at all.”

“Flushing toilets.”

“Shorts and jeans!”

“Western medicine.”

Caroline listened closely as her siblings listed off so many words she never heard of, nor could even conceive, and it made her blood boil with anger.

“I think you all need to go,” she said, so quietly, they could barely hear her.

“But Caroline…”

“Go!” she spat. “Find something that will teach me this English, then stay away from me for a few days.”

Later that day, Caroline heard a knock at the door of her room.

The knock was light but firm, and Caroline just knew that it was Rebekah on the other side. Apparently some things hadn’t changed over the years.

Without waiting for Caroline to invite her in, Rebekah opened the door and stepped through it, a burly, unshaven man following her in.

“This is Alaric, he’s a teacher,” Rebekah said. “He’s going to teach you modern English. You shouldn’t have too much trouble with it, when you… left… we spoke what they now call ‘Middle English’. There is overlap with root words, and sentence structure. And in any case, you were always the best of us at picking up new skills.”

“I didn’t leave, Rebekah,” Caroline snapped. “The five of you put me down. For 800 years.”

Rebekah flushed furiously, but didn’t say anything, just left the room.

“Uh hi,” the man named Ric said. “I know you probably can’t understand what I’m saying, but I have no idea how to help you… I’m a history teacher, not an English-as-a-second-language teacher. But is there a difference to a thousand-year-old vampire who won’t take no for answer? No there’s not.”

Caroline smiled tight lipped at him, not catching a word more than ‘vampire’.

“This is a chair, I guess,” Ric said, pointing to the chair.

“Chair,” Caroline repeated.

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’ awkwardly. “Chair…”

Six weeks later

It had been over a month since Caroline and the rest of the Mikaelson’s had been reunited, and she was still with them in Mystic Falss.

She had been living quite the wild crash course in modern day life, and she was annoyed to admit, she was slipping back into old patterns with each of her siblings. Joking with Kol, reading with Elijah and Finn, giggling with Rebekah. She had even kissed Klaus a few times.

She was now pretty fluent in modern English, and knew about showers and the internet. She refused to get behind the wheel of a car, because she didn’t see the use of them at all anyway.

She was tentative friends with Ric, who she learned only yesterday had been compelled to teach her – a compulsion she freed him of immediately.

She was regaled with many things the family had done other the centuries, and had been given the run down of what went on in the little town of Mystic Falls, during the sacrifice, and the aftermath, as well as what had taken place to get her back.

And through all of this she had not left the Mikaelson Estate alone. It wasn’t that she felt trapped there, as such, but she also knew if she tried to go anywhere, she would be sent with at least two of her siblings, and it irritated her somewhat that even now they were holding her as a bit of a hostage.

“I am going to the village,” Caroline said, now trying to speak only modern English, where possible. “Alone.”

“No you are not,” Klaus spluttered.

“Yes, I am,” Caroline said defiantly. “I am an adult woman, Niklaus, and you will not tell me what I can do. Goodbye.”

With that, Caroline turned on the heel of her very new boot, and flashed away.

Once in the centre of town, Caroline actually didn’t know what to do with herself.

But was spared the trouble of coming up with an idea when someone walked into her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she said, apologetically. “I am very clumsy.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the man said. “It’s – it’s you.”

“Do I know you?” Caroline asked, peering at the tall, dark haired man with interest.

“I’m Stefan Salvatore, maybe you’ve heard…”

“Oh… yes… I’m Caroline,” Caroline replied, awkwardly. “I’m really sorry my family were so awful to you… they can get pretty protective.”

“I’m sorry I told my brother to chop you up into little pieces…”

“Your brother?” Caroline said, incredulously. “Yes, you should be sorry, that hurt.”

Caroline let out a tinkling laugh, unable to hold much of a grudge against the man before her. Sure, Niklaus hated him, but didn’t mean she had to. In fact, it would probably irk Niklaus greatly if she were to befriend this young vampire.

And boy Caroline would love to do anything to irritate Klaus.

“Do you want to get a drink? I’ve been in that box for almost 900 years, I have five friends in this time, and they put me there. I could use… someone new.”

Stefan frowned, sensing it was a bad idea.

“It’s not a trap, I promise.”

Caroline gave him her most sunny smile – it was a smile that got her in and out of trouble a lot of the years – and Stefan relented.

Stefan led Caroline to the Mystic Bar and Grill and Caroline took a seat awkwardly, while Stefan ordered for the two of them.

“So, who are you to the Mikaelsons?” Stefan asked.

“Niklaus and I married when I was quite young, so he’s my husband, and the rest are my siblings.”

“By marriage?”

“Yes, but I grew up in the hut next to theirs. They’re more my family than my blood family ever was.”

The two of them chatted away, Caroline learned a lot about Stefan’s life as a vampire, as well as his life in Mystic Falls over the last two years. She couldn’t always understand the words he used, but he was kind enough to stop and explain whenever such a word came up.

Caroline couldn’t help but feel at ease talking to him, despite his obvious unstable side, she could sense there was a lot of goodness in his heart – even if it had been poisoned somewhat by time and sadness.

It was a familiar sense – it was what happened to her family.

“May I ask a personal question?” Stefan asked, to which Caroline nodded. “Why did Klaus dagger you?”

“It was not just Niklaus,” Caroline said, sadly. “We were all living together, and they all liked being vampires, the murder and the power. I didn’t want that. So I told them I wanted to travel alone for a while. None of them wanted me to go.”

“I see,” Stefan said, shrewdly. “That’s why they were so willing to band together to save you, when they should have been angry with each other.”

“I suppose, plus I am the best sibling.”

“I can see that,” Stefan replied, slipping the lightest of flirts into his voice. “I guess you’re lucky I came into your life. I freed you.”

Caroline stiffened.

It was a thought she’d had a few times since waking, though it was one she always pushed to explore later. But having it so casually raised with her, she realised she couldn’t deny the question anymore.

“I’ve got to go.”

Klaus was sitting agitated in his study.

It had been six whole weeks since his family had been reunited, and there were times when it felt like nothing had changed. But there were also times when he could set fire to west wing of the house and still would receive no attention from any of them.

He supposed that was fine. It wasn’t an unfamiliar dynamic.

But, he reasoned, he was the only one of the six of them who remained awake the entire time. He guessed he wished they needed him more, the way he needed them.

Suddenly the door to his office flung open, and there stood Caroline.

Her eyes were full of tears, her cheeks flushed from what he could only assume was the run home from town.

“Would you have woken me if Stefan hadn’t kept me?” Caroline asked, in a strangled voice, reverting back to their old tongue for her own ease.

“What?” he asked, defensively.

“Stefan just said to me that maybe it was lucky he took me, because he freed me from your betrayal.”

“Stefan just said to you, Caroline? Your friends with Stefan now?”

“Don’t avoid my question, Niklaus,” she said, dangerously. “Would you have woken me now? Would you have woken any of us now?”

“Mikael is dead, Caroline, it was my plan to insight a family reunion.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question!” she sobbed. “If Stefan hadn’t woken me to torture you, would you have woken me now? You reasoning has always been Mikael would have killed me if I was alone. So, now he’s dead, would you have woken me?”

Klaus mouth stayed tightly shut, unable, or at least unwilling, to answer her.

“How could you?” she asked, her voice so broken.

“Caroline, you have to understand, you –”

“Understand what, Niklaus? That I wanted a life beyond this family, beyond you?”

“I was –”

“I don’t care, what you were,” Caroline cried, tears freely pouring down her face. “You robbed me of eight hundred years of life that you got to live. You got to live beyond me! Why could you never offer me the same kindness?”

“What if I lost you?”

“What if you lost me?” she shrieked, the words tearing her throat. “Your sense of love and loyalty to me is completely insane if you think keeping me dead in a box wasn’t losing me, Klaus.”

“Caroline, please, I –”

“Don’t you dare say you love me, Klaus,” Caroline spat, the tears on her flaming cheeks mixing with the sweat and mucus dripping down her face, forming a grotesque imprint of the Caroline he’d loved and lost so long ago. “I could have been there in 1492 when you tried to break the hybrid curse the first time, I could have been there when you adopted your son in New Orleans, I could have raised him with you! I could have been there to cheer you on when you finally succeeded in breaking the curse this year! I could have been around for all of it!”

“But you were leaving!” Klaus said, finally beginning to match her level of rage. “How can you not see how ridiculous your notions of ‘being there’ are, when you were – by your own admission – trying to not be there!”

“You’re unbelievable, Klaus,” Caroline scoffed. “That you still fail to see my side of this at all, proof that I was right back then.”

“I can’t stand you when you’re like this, Caroline,” Klaus muttered. “Just get out of my sight.”

“No,” Caroline said, giving Klaus a look of pure petulance. “What did you do with my stuff?”

“What?”

“Way back then, what did you do with my stuff? My books, my dresses, my everything!”

“I packed them in a box and it travelled with us.”

“Good, where is it?” Caroline asked, petulantly. “I want it.”

“Cellar.”

Klaus grunted the last two syllables as he brushed past Caroline, and stalked away from her.

She rolled her eyes, but made her way to the cellar instead of engaging him further.

Elena Gilbert was sitting on the couch in her home shaking intermittently.

The past year had taken its toll on the young woman, and the events of only the last couple of days had served to shake her more deeply than she thought possible.

She refused to see Stefan, or Damon – both complicit in disregarding her life, and the life of her family for their own revenge fantasies. She ordered both Jeremy and Bonnie be in her vicinity at all times, though she rarely spoke to them. Matt and Ric were allowed a little more freedom, but had to call or text her every couple of hours.

Despite the fact she was completely healed, thanks to vampire blood, Elena could still vividly feel the vicious and cold pain Rebekah inflicted upon her. And every time she looked in the mirror, and saw her bare head, her eyes would fill with tears, for her scalp was just a visual representation of all she lost since turning sixteen.

She flinched as there was a sudden knock at the door.

She knew Bonnie and Jeremy were upstairs, and Matt and Ric were at school, and surely Stefan and Damon knew better than to come grovelling for her forgiveness so soon?

Trying to pull herself together, she bravely stood up, wrapped her cardigan more firmly around her, and answered the door.

“Hi,” the blonde on the other side of the door said softly. “I’m Caroline. Are you Elena?”

Elena nodded jerkily, but didn’t say anything.

It was at this point, Bonnie came down the stairs, and, recognising Caroline, pulled Elena from the door.

“Elena, don’t, she’s one of them.”

Caroline smiled sadly – that was a line she heard frequently her entire life. She was one of them; a Mikaelson. Once she vowed her life and heart to Niklaus, she doomed herself to an eternity of spite and shame.

“They don’t know I’m here,” Caroline said gently. “I don’t even want to be invited in.”

“What do you want?” Bonnie said, tersely.

“To apologise; my family betrayed me, and I guess they thought their saving me this time would make up for that. I’m sorry for everything they’ve undoubtedly done to you. My husband, especially.”

“Which one’s your husband?” Jeremy asked, from his position behind the two girls.

“I’m sure you can guess,” Caroline huffed. “Niklaus is a brutish man, and I am loathed to admit regret for anything, but now…”

She left her sentence hanging in the air, leaving all four of them to contemplate the terrible twists and turns their lives had taken.

“It is strange,” Caroline said. “I feel as though, perhaps in another life, another universe, I could be a close friend to you three. But I don’t believe that’s for this life.”

For the first time in a few days, Elena gave a small, guarded smile to the blonde at her doorstep, and it was enough for Caroline. It was all the solace she would get from this particular encounter.

“I brought you this, I used a photocopier, whatever that is, to make you a copy from one of my old books.”

Caroline placed an envelope at the foot of the door, and took a step back, gesturing for them to take it.

“What is it?”

“It’s a spell I weaved myself, back when I was a girl, I was a witch, you know,” Caroline said, wanly. “It should spark hair growth. Over night, you should be able to regrow all the hair my brat of a sister stole from you, in any style you want. There’s also instructions on how to spell your hair to different colours, lengths etcetera.”

Elena’s eyes widened, and tears filled them.

“I know it’s not much salvation from the destruction that tends to follow my family, but hopefully it’s something. The world needs pure souls like the three of yours, and I want you to still believe there are good people out there.”

Without another word, Caroline turned and left.

She heard a quiet ‘thank you’ when she was half way across the street, and she smiled sadly again, unsure of where to go now.

It was a few days later, as that sun began to peak its beams through the trees, and Klaus was quietly reading when he heard a heartbroken wail, that was unmistakeably his little sister.

“Rebekah!” he called, jumping from his armchair and dashing toward her.

She was crumpled in a heap on the marbled floors of their kitchen.

“What’s the matter,” Klaus said, alarmed, as the rest of their brothers joined them.

“It’s Caroline,” she cried, barely audible through the choking sobs ripping through her. “She’s left us."

It was then Klaus noticed the the thick paper clutched in Rebekah’s hand, and the matching envelopes addressed neatly to each other them on the kitchen bench.

“I don’t know if she’ll want to come back this time,” Elijah said.

“Of course she will,” Finn encouraged.

“She can’t keep away from us forever, she won’t be able to help herself,” Kol joked, weakly.

Klaus reached for his own letter, dread coursing through his veins.

And, as he read both letters she left for him, he couldn’t help but think maybe he would never see her face again.

Hope you enjoyed! I also hope there’s not too many mistakes, I couldn’t bring myself to read this monster again!! Much love xx

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic #kcbingo2020

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splendidlyimperfect · 4 years ago

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When Natsu runs into five-year-old Sting and Rogue at the Grand Magic Games, he thinks they're cute kids with a serious case of hero worship. But when it turns out that they're both Dragon Slayers and they belong to the ruthless Sabertooth Guild, something doesn't feel quite right. Natsu and Gray quickly grow protective of the two little kids, and they do their best to build a relationship with them to try to keep them safe and figure out what exactly is going on at Sabertooth.

alternate chapter art here

Chapter Summary: Natsu and Gray are both unsettled by the revelation about Sting and Rogue's dragon slaying powers, and Gray realizes he has something in common with Rogue.

Chapters (2/?): 1 | 2 Fandom: Fairy Tail Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine Additional Tags: Canon Universe, Not Canon Compliant, like not even close, Dai Matou Enbu | Grand Magic Games Arc, Sort Of, Childhood Friends, Cute Kids, Hero Worship, Fairy Tail Dragon Slayers, Protectiveness, protective Natsu, Protective Gray, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Parenthood, sorta - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Character, Nonbinary Character, Trans Gray, Trans Sting, Nonbinary Rogue, they're just adorable baby dragon slayers and Natsu wants to adopt them, and kind of does, Mutual Pining, because Gray and Natsu are idiots

-----

The walk back to the inn was quiet. Erza and Lucy quickly slipped into a recap of the day’s events, but Natsu was edgy and distracted, still trying his hardest to figure out what had felt wrong about the two boys.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you think too hard.” Gray appeared beside Natsu and bumped his shoulder, knocking him out of step.

“Hilarious.” Natsu nudged him back, but it lacked the usual enthusiasm of their bickering.

“I try.” Gray shoved his hands into his pockets, staying next to Natsu as they made their way through the dark streets. He didn’t say anything, which wasn’t unusual for him, but Natsu felt like there was a weight behind the lack of words.

“It doesn’t feel right,” Natsu finally said once they had arrived at the inn and the girls had headed in to sleep. He leaned against the wall next to Gray and stared up at the sky. The sun had set, and the sky was a dark tapestry littered with pinpricks of stars. “I dunno why it’s bugging me so much. We weren’t much older when we joined Fairy Tail.”

Gray nodded, absently patting his pocket where he used to keep his cigarettes. Natsu batted his hand away, trying to ignore the warm spark when their fingers touched.

It doesn’t mean anything, Natsu thought as he pulled his hand back and shoved it in his pocket. He’s your best friend.

Continue reading on AO3

Gray didn’t answer for a while. The silence that settled between them was easy and familiar, and Natsu felt himself unconsciously leaning closer to Gray. Everyone always teased Natsu about how much he talked, but when he was alone with Gray, it didn’t feel necessary. The urgent need to fill the air with cheerful words was replaced by a deep, quiet sense of familiarity that felt like home.

“I think,” Gray said after a while, keeping his gaze on the sky, “it feels wrong because they’re alone. I mean, not alone, but there aren’t any other kids in their guild.” He kicked at a rock, watching it bounce across the street and clatter down into the gutter. “They’re so young. And nobody’s looking out for them.”

“Yukino is,” Natsu pointed out, and Gray nodded. “But she seems…”

“Afraid?”

“Mm. She doesn’t really fit with them either.” Natsu sighed, prodding at a bruise that was still forming on his ribs. It was courtesy of a vicious kick from Orga during their fight that morning – one that Natsu and Gray had nearly lost to Sabertooth’s ruthless tactics.

Silence fell between them again. The soft chill that normally radiated from Gray was tempered by Natsu’s heat, keeping them both comfortably warm in the cool spring air. Natsu absently held out his hand and summoned a small flame, running it back and forth across his knuckles. Gray blew a stream of frosty air at it, and it froze for a second, glinting orange and gold in the dim light of the streetlamp.

“I think Sting’s trans,” Gray said as the flame went out.

Natsu raised an eyebrow, tipping his head to look at the soft expression on Gray’s face. Natsu still remembered the day he’d come out, even though it was years ago. They’d been nine or ten, sparring as usual, and Droy had told Natsu that he shouldn’t hit girls. Gray had yelled that he wasn’t a girl, said some words that he’d probably picked up from Gildarts, then punched Droy and stormed away from the guild. Natsu had followed him down to the river and they’d spent the afternoon together, carefully holding hands and watching the water sparkle in the afternoon sun.

Nothing had changed. Gray was still Gray, and Natsu had still loved him just as fiercely.

“How do you know?”

Gray shrugged. “I dunno, something…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely. Natsu nodded. He’d known right away that Rogue wasn’t a boy or a girl, just like Freed, but he couldn’t quite explain how.

“I wish they could come with us,” Natsu said. “There’s something off – not just about Sabertooth, about them. I can’t figure it out and it’s driving me crazy.”

“You could try to talk to Yukino,” Gray suggested. “Not to take them or anything, just to maybe, I dunno, offer to help them. Train them, I mean. With the dragon slayer stuff. Jiemma might go for that if that’s what he’s… keeping them for.”

“That’s… actually a good idea.”

“I happen to have those sometimes.”

“Only when you’re inspired by my brilliance.”

Gray laughed – a rare, quiet sound that made Natsu’s cheeks warm and his stomach twist in a gentle, familiar way.

“C’mon,” Gray said, pushing himself off the wall and nudging Natsu’s arm. “It’s late, let’s go to bed.”

Natsu swallowed back the disappointment that washed over him – he wanted to stay here, shoulders touching, talking quietly in the night. He liked having Gray to himself. It happened so rarely now that they were adults, and Natsu missed the afternoons they used to spend by the river. He missed holding hands. He missed falling asleep together under the afternoon sun and waking up with his head on Gray’s shoulder.

“I’ll be right in,” he said, forcing himself to smile.

Gray frowned. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Natsu said quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You shouldn’t drink so much of that; you’re going to have a heart attack.”

Gray glared half-heartedly at Lucy over his fourth cup of coffee. Even with that much caffeine flowing through him, he was still exhausted. Sleep had evaded him for most of the night. At first, he’d spent his time waiting for Natsu to come inside, wishing he’d stayed out with him. Then, once Natsu had finally crawled into the bed across from Gray and was snoring softly, the nightmares had started.

Gray hadn’t dreamed about his mom in a long time. He’d woken up in the early hours of the morning, skin and sheets covered in a thick layer of frost, and had been surprised to find tears frozen to his cheeks.

“’m fine,” he mumbled. “Stupid beds are uncomfortable.”

Lucy nodded sympathetically as she sat down at the table across from him. The inn had its own small kitchen, and Gray was grateful for the option to eat here, mostly alone, instead of heading to the market to find food with everyone else. He still felt unsettled and wasn’t quite ready to face the world.

“Are you okay?” Lucy’s gentle question made the fragile barrier around Gray’s heart splinter a little and he sighed, dropping his head into his hands. Somehow, she was always able to see past his bullshit.

“Just bad dreams.”

“Is it because of the kids?”

Gray peeked up at her. “You’re freakishly perceptive, you know that, right?”

Lucy laughed, poking at her pancakes. “So that’s a yes, then.”

“I guess.” Gray rubbed his face. “I dunno. They’re little and alone.” The words stuck in his throat and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself together. “It just…”

“Reminds you of yourself?”

“Would you stop that?”

“Nope.”

Gray groaned. “Yes, okay? And I know a lot of us had shitty childhoods, but it made me think about my mom, and how it sucks they don’t have their parents. That’s all.”

Lucy reached across the table and took Gray’s hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s okay to miss your mom,” she said gently. “I miss mine, too. And I know that Natsu’s thinking about his dad. You’re not alone, Gray.”

He let out a noisy breath and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Yeah, I know.” He squeezed her hand, giving her a small half-smile before letting go and grabbing his coffee again. The taste was bitter as he downed it in one gulp, then stood up and pushed his chair away from the table.

“You’d better get going,” Lucy said, gesturing at the clock on the wall behind him. “I’m pretty sure you’re up first this morning.”

“Mm.” Gray stretched, then leaned across the table and quickly kissed the top of Lucy’s head. He pulled away before she could say anything, turning toward the door so she couldn’t see the redness in his cheeks. “See you later?” For some reason it came out as a question, almost seeking reassurance.

Of course, Lucy provided it. “I’ll be cheering for you,” she said. “Good luck!”

The fight was exhausting. Gray was matched one-on-one against someone named Renne from a guild he couldn’t even remember, and the lack of sleep caught up to him halfway through the fight. Something hit him hard in the forehead and he stumbled backward, blinking when blood dripped into his eyes.

C’mon, Princess. Natsu’s voice filled Gray’s mind and for a moment, he thought it was his imagination. Then he glanced up into the stands and realized that Natsu was staring down at him with Max by his side, borrowing his telepathic magic. You’ve got this.

Gray shook his head to clear his blurred vision, launching a barrage of ice blades from his hands as Renne teleported behind him. Another hit landed on his jaw and he grunted in pain, stumbling forward and cursing under his breath. Frustration and embarrassment washed over him as blood filled his mouth.

The kids are watching. Natsu’s voice appeared again. Look up.

Gray spun around, gaze moving from Natsu’s grinning face to the enormous screen that panned across the crowd. Right now, it was focused on Sabertooth, and there, leaning against the railing, were Sting and Rogue. Sting had a wild grin on his face and was bouncing up and down in excitement, turning to talk to Yukino as he pointed at Gray. Rogue was standing behind him, looking much more subdued, but when Gray realized they were still holding the snake he’d made, something warm flooded through him.

Fuck this, he thought, spitting blood onto the ground and turning back to Renne. I’m not gonna lose. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

As soon as he thought about it, the devil slayer magic he’d been ignoring for so long started to thrum under his skin. An anticipation grew along with the power, layered with an irritated almost-whisper of, why did you wait so long, let me out, let me free, let me destroy.

Gray gritted his teeth, pushing back against the destructive desires of the magic. It itched and stung, just like every time he called on it, pushing at him like it didn’t quite fit in his body. The black marks raced across his skin like ink on parchment, twisting in patterns that Gray still didn’t understand. He didn’t use the magic often – even after a year, the new powers still unsettled him.

He exhaled, letting the tension and fatigue flow out of his body, then looked up at Renne again. Everything about her was sharper. Gray could see her magic now; a purplish-blue aura that darted around her, quick and nimble. It tasted bitter, overpowering the coppery tang of blood that clung to the inside of his mouth.

A look of surprise appeared on her face that was quickly replaced by disgust, and she cursed as she charged at him. Her magic flowed just ahead of her, and Gray watched the movements carefully, stepping out of the way of her attack. She stumbled uncertainly, then glared at him as she disappeared in a burst of light.

Gray closed his eyes, letting the magic flow out of him like a sixth sense, feeling through the air until it found a heartbeat. He whipped around as the magic snapped back to him, crystallizing along his arms until sharp blades spread from his fingers to elbows. Renne appeared exactly where he’d expected, and her nasty grin was quickly replaced by a look of surprise when he caught her blow one-handed and tossed her to the ground.

A hungry sensation raced through Gray at the expression on her face, but he pushed it back, refusing to give in to the vicious desires of his magic. The commentators shouted something, and a cheer spread through the crowd, but it all turned to a dull roar as Gray pushed the magic out again, letting it crystallize into a group of wicked-looking ice shards that hung around Renne.

“What the hell kind of magic is this?” she hissed, pushing herself to her feet. The shards moved closer to her, bathing her in the bruised purple light of the devil slayer’s ice.

“Mine,” Gray said simply. Then he closed his fist and detonated the ice. It exploded into thousands of tiny fragments that whipped around Rennee, sharp and deadly. She swore as one of them nicked her arm, then scowled at Gray and teleported away.

He closed his eyes again, following the magic as it moved. It darted back and forth around him and through the air, leaving behind a sour, acidic smell, then stopped on near the edge of the stadium. Gray quickly dropped to one knee, pressing his hands to the ground and sending out a shockwave that culminated in a mass of razor-sharp ice spikes exploding underneath where Rennee reappeared.

She disappeared again and Gray could feel her anger and resentment, a dark blue color seething through the lines of her magic. It made her even easier to track. He kept his eyes closed, shifting to follow each teleport and block it with the hungry magic that flowed through him.

A few attempts later, he caught her. She materialized into a prison of dark purple ice that raced across her skin until it covered her torso and pinned her arms to her chest. She stumbled forward, landing on her knees and not standing again.

The commentator’s voices were fuzzy as a cheer raced through the stadium and the Fairy Tail logo filled the screen. Gray exhaled in relief as he released the magic around Renne, pulling it back to him and letting it dissolve. The marks quickly disappeared into his skin, leaving him worn out and oddly cold.

“Freak,” Renne hissed as she stumbled to her feet. “That magic is evil. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Gray didn’t have an answer for her, and he dropped his gaze to the ground as she turned on her heel and walked away.

I knew you could do it. Natsu’s voice appeared in Gray’s head again and he looked up to see the stupid, brilliant smile that always made his heart ache. You looked pretty badass, too. Gray was glad he was far enough away from Natsu that he couldn’t see the embarrassed flush that crept into his cheeks. I think you’ve got a new fan, Natsu added, nodding to the screen again.

The camera had panned to the left, but the edge of the screen still caught the Sabertooth viewing area. Sting had been cut out of the picture, but Rogue was still there, clutching the snake to their chest and gazing down at Gray with a wide-eyed look of adoration. The warm feeling from earlier swelled in Gray’s chest again – for some reason, that look was worth more than all the cheers from the rest of the stadium.

The dizzy, uncomfortable feeling that always appeared after using the devil slayer magic plagued Gray for the rest of the day. He tried his best to shake it off and cheer for his team, but the feeling dug its claws into him and wouldn’t let go.

Freak.

Evil.

Demon.

The echo of Renne’s voice drifted around in his mind, next to the headache and the unsettling feeling of his skin not fitting quite right.

“You okay?” Natsu asked once they’d left the stadium for the day. The evening sky was a soft pink and cast gentle shadows across the cobblestone street. The market was closed for the evening and the quiet was a calm reprieve from the shouts and excitement of the games.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Gray grumbled. “I’m fine.”

“Liar.” Natsu gave him a sideways look but Gray refused to return it. “You look like shit.”

Gray snorted. “Thanks.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” Gray caught Natsu’s grin out of the corner of his eye. “Seriously, though. You used the magic.”

Gray’s stomach twisted. “Of course I used magic,” he said quickly. “It’s called the Grand Magic Games.”

“That’s not what I meant, idiot, and you know it.”

Gray sighed, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. He missed being able to hold Natsu’s hand. They’d done it for years, and the gentle warmth of Natsu’s palm against his had always been enough to make Gray feel safe. Then they’d grown up and it had started to feel like something else, and it hurt Gray too much to keep touching Natsu and knowing he couldn’t have him like that.

“I just—”

Gray’s words were interrupted by a yell, and a familiar voice shouting, “Stop it!”

“Sting?” Gray frowned at Natsu, looking around the empty market for the little boy. It took a second and another shout for him to see the head of curly blond hair on the other side of the fountain in the center of the square.

“Are they out here again by themselves?” Natsu asked, sighing in exasperation as they both quickened their pace and headed toward Sting. “I swear, I’m gonna—”

“Leave them alone!”

Sting yelled again, and they arrived at the fountain just in time to see someone shove him. It was a boy who looked to be a couple years older than Sting and Rogue, and an ugly look crossed his face as Sting stumbled backward.

“He’s stupid and you are too,” the boy said, hands clenching into fists. A terrified-looking Rogue stood just behind Sting, and a spark of protective anger flared in Gray’s chest. Sting’s cheeks were red, and he looked like he was about to cry, but he didn’t back down. His hands shook as the boy took a step toward him.

“Hey!” Natsu’s shout caught the boy’s attention as he stepped forward, and he whipped around to face them. His eyes widened when he realized who Natsu was. “What do you think you’re—”

Before Gray could grab him, the boy was gone, darting out of the market and into the maze of alleys that wound through the city.

There was a moment of silence, and then Sting burst into tears.

“Hey bud.” Natsu’s voice was gentle as he crouched down next to Sting. “Are you okay?” Sting shook his head, and Natsu made a sad sound, pulling the little boy into a hug. “It’s okay,” Natsu said softly as Sting pressed his face into his shoulder. “You’re safe.”

Gray turned to Rogue, who was staring uncertainly at Sting and Natsu. Gray hesitated, not quite sure if he should step in or let Natsu handle it. Kids weren’t his forte – even with Asuka he sometimes felt awkward and out of place, unsure of how to respond to her exuberance and desire to play.

Then Rogue rubbed their face and Gray realized they were about to cry as well.

“Hey, c’mere,” Gray said gently, holding out his hand. Rogue stared at Sting for a few more seconds, then cautiously took Gray’s hand and followed him over to the fountain. Gray sat down on the edge and lifted Rogue up to sit beside him, surprised by how light they were. Rogue quickly curled up against him as they sniffled and tried to hide their tears.

“Is Sting in trouble?”

“Of course not,” Gray reassured them, wrapping his arm around them as they snuggled closer to him. The easy trust that Rogue seemed to have in him made Gray feel warm and important. “That kid was a jerk,” he said. “Neither of you did anything wrong. Did he hurt you?”

Rogue shook their head, sniffing and wiping their face with their sleeve. “He said my eyes was weird,” they said quietly. Anger flared up in Gray’s chest again and he contemplated chasing the kid down. “Sting telled him to go away but he didn’t listen. Why he was mean?”

“I don’t know,” Gray said honestly. “Sometimes people aren’t very nice and there isn’t a good reason for it.”

Rogue didn’t answer, just rested their head against Gray’s shoulder and played with the frayed edge of their sleeve. Gray looked back at Natsu, who was still crouched next to Sting with a hand on his arm. Sting had stopped crying and his face was set in a stubborn frown, and Gray almost laughed when he realized it was the same look Natsu had always worn at that age.

“You’re nice,” Rogue said, pulling Gray’s attention back to them. “I like you.”

Gray stilled, not quite sure why the words made his cheeks burn. “I like you too,” he said carefully. He looked back at Natsu, who had managed to get Sting to smile, then back down at Rogue. He felt wildly out of his element and he had no idea how to make Rogue feel better. Then he thought of the way Rogue’s face had lit up at the snake sculpture he’d made the day before.

“Hey, you wanna see something cool?”

Rogue looked up at him, half of their face hidden behind a curtain of dark hair. “See what?”

Gray held out both hands, summoning his magic as slowly as he could. Snowflakes drifted up and around his palms as they started to glow with a faint blue light. Rogue’s face immediately brightened with excitement and they leaned forward, staring at the magic.

“You can make a snake again?” they asked as they gazed at the soft blue light.

“Sure,” Gray said, relaxing as Rogue’s tearful expression transformed into a small, shy smile. “I can make anything you want.”

“Anything?” Rogue’s eyes widened further.

“Yep.” Gray moved his fingers and the ice twisted into a snake again, then into a thin, delicate snowflake, then into a small cat. Rogue watched the whole time, head tilted to the side, entranced by the movements.

“You can do it black?” they asked, looking down at their own hands.

Gray frowned. “Black?” Rogue touched Gray’s forearm and his eyes widened as he realized they meant the devil slayer marks.

“That’s sort of—”

“Like mine.” Rogue held his palm out next to Gray’s and a tiny, black wisp appeared. “See?” Gray watched as it flickered and twisted, then dropped back down onto Rogue’s hand. A bit of it spread out under their skin for a moment, just like the marks on Gray’s arms. “It’s only little cause I did a big one and it scareded Yukino but it was an accident. I didn’t mean to.”

The uncertainty and shame in Rogue’s voice made Gray’s heart ache.

“I’m sure she was just surprised,” he reassured Rogue. Then he pushed away his exhaustion and slowly pulled at the devil slayer magic until a pattern of dark marks swirled across his arms. The soft blue glow in his palms darkened as he focused the magic, keeping it from overwhelming him. He jumped when he felt something on his wrist, but it was just Rogue’s fingertips, tracing the pattern of the marks.

“Show me yours again,” Gray said, nudging Rogue’s hands. They hesitated, then held up their palm next to Gray’s, summoning another wisp of shadow that danced along their fingers. “You can make it bigger,” Gray said. Rogue gave him a dubious look. “It’s okay, I promise.”

“’kay.” Rogue squirmed forward, bringing their other hand up as the shadow grew, spiraling and flickering until it was nearly the size of a house cat. Gray nudged it with his own magic, drawing the shadow into the cloud of dark snowflakes.

“See?” He smiled at the delighted expression on Rogue’s face. “It’s not scary. It’s pretty.” The marks on his arms shifted again and he felt the magic trying to stretch. “What should we make?” he asked, trying to ignore the sensation.

“A frog?” Rogue asked. “I like frogs.”

Gray laughed, shifting his magic alongside Rogue’s and molding it into the shape of a small frog that fit in the palm of their hand. Instead of the bright, clear blue from the other day, this one was deep purple, with wisps of shadow twisted inside the ice. It was beautiful, in a strange way.

“Thank you.” Rogue tipped their head onto Gray’s shoulder, letting out a happy sigh and snuggling close as they ran their fingers over the frog. He exhaled, letting the magic sink back into his skin as he wrapped his arm around Rogue again.

They sat in silence for a while as Gray watched Natsu and Sting. Natsu had moved to sit cross-legged on the ground and Sting was in his lap, still red-eyed but no longer crying. The soft, fond feelings that Gray tried so hard to keep to himself surfaced easily as he watched the two of them. Natsu’s smile was genuine and his hands were gentle, and he was beautiful in the shadows of the setting sun.

“All right, you two,” Natsu said eventually, standing and scooping Sting into his arms. “Oof, you’re heavy.”

“I’m five,” Sting said, managing to look indignant even while wrapping his arms around Natsu’s neck. “That’s big.”

“That is big,” Natsu agreed, giving Gray a soft smile as he stood as well, holding a sleepy Rogue in his arms. “Now, let’s go find Yukino.”

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guiltysecretpasttime · 4 years ago

Text

Adversity (Chapter 2)

This is a follow-up to the first chapter here. Cross-posted in AO3.

Overview: Lin and Tenzin are both at the height of their respective careers – she with the Metalbending Police and he with the Air Nation. Questions about their future begin to arise and things come to a head when Lin responded to an emergency call. Would her job take them from each other forever? Eventual HEA. Non-canon compliant, AU. (Notes at the end of the post.)

Tenzin woke up with a start.

From his vantage on his bed, he could see the soft colors of the sky changing as dawn made itself known.

He swore quietly. He did not mean to fall asleep at the island. If he hurried, he figured he could probably still catch Lin before she left for work.

He tried to sit up; only to be weighed down by a toned arm slumped over him. He rubbed off sleep from his eyes and saw his girlfriend lightly slumbering on his chest. The airbender wondered how did the earthbender end up sleeping in his childhood bedroom at Air Temple Island.

Tenzin recognized that it was not a peaceful sleep, however. There were days that she was tense and there were days that she was relaxed. Today, her unblemished sleeping expression was marred by a small frown.

Tenzin skated his fingers on her forearm. His movements jolted her awake.

“Wha-?”

Without warning, the earthbender shot her arm up - hitting the master airbender on the nose.

"Ow!"

Lin bolted upright. "Tenzin - what- oh!" She turned to her side, seeing her lover of more than a decade clutching his nose and rubbing it. "I am so sorry," Lin reached out to touch his face. "I didn't mean to!"

Certain that there was nothing broken and that there was no blood, Tenzin took Lin's hand and held it to his cheek. Time and time again, he forgot that he should never try to startle this law enforcer in her sleep.

"Ten," The uncharacteristically soft voice of the chief of police whispered. "I'm sorry for missing dinner last night. I'm sorry -I just…" Lin trailed off. "I forgot."

Lin was not one to make excuses. Tenzin loved that about her - she was authentic and honest to a fault. As he looked at her contrite expression, all his annoyances from the previous night faded.

In the light of dawn and in bed, it did not seem so bad.

“It's fine.” He replied, meaning it the first time in the past twenty-four hours, kissing her forehead softly.

----------

After spending a few more quiet moments in each other’s arms, Lin broke the silence. “Were you going to meditate?”

“No, actually, I uh, I planned to get home before you left for the station.” Tenzin rubbed the back of his neck. Then everything came tumbling out. “Honestly, I was really…” He searched for a word to describe his emotions. Annoyed. “Irritated.” He tested it. “At first, at least. Then worried – you didn't even think to let me know you'd be late.”

She motioned to speak but he continued. “I know. I know you said someone from the station would likely get in touch with me if ever – in the event of -.” He did not want to say “an accident” or “death” out loud, being a tad superstitious that way. “And you're Lin Beifong, Chief of the Republic City Metalbending Police. You’re practically indestructible, I know.” He held her tighter. “But to me, you’re Lin Beifong, the woman I love. Take care of yourself.”

“I shouldn’t have worried you, I should have called earlier.” Lin averted her eyes and burrowed in his embrace. She sensed something else was bothering Tenzin. “How was your day yesterday?” She ventured, peeking at his face from her position.

Tenzin shifted uncomfortably then sighed. “The air acolytes do not take me seriously. They were laughing quietly most of the session. They were never like that when dad conducted the session.” He huffed. “They probably don’t think I’m an airbending master.”

“It's just the first session.” Lin had another guess why they were laughing but did not speak up about it just yet. “I’m sure they weren’t laughing at you.”

“Why of course they were – they’d look at me then laugh amongst themselves.” Tenzin looked distraught.

“I don’t think so…”

Lin has seen how some of the younger Air Acolytes looked at the youngest airbender.

At the age of thirty-one, he did strike an intimidating yet appealing figure. While lean, his muscular limbs (and hidden well-formed abs, Lin thought smugly) belied a strength that he had acquired on his rigorous training sessions. Not to mention the upbringing of Katara and Aang turned him into quite an intelligent gentleman.

And obviously, Lin supposed, the prospect being the wife of the son of the Avatar does not hurt his chances with the ladies much either.

Wife? Not pausing to think about where that thought came from, she sought to assure him. “You’re doing great, I’m sure of that, Tenzin. Don’t worry so much – they, the Air Acolytes adore you.” She patted his cheek.

Tenzin rolled his eyes, his good mood restored. “You don’t have to be so sarcastic about it. It’s too early.”

Lin made a non-committal noise as she pushed to put her feet on the floor beside the bed.

“I just said it’s too early,” Tenzin reached over to stop her from standing up. “You’re getting up? You really enjoy contradicting me, don’t you?”

Lin laughed. “Well, I do – but yes, I need to go. I just wanted to make sure I got to you before we started today.”

“Let’s eat before you go – I’m sure Mother had some leftovers set aside from last night.” Seeing the woman’s unmoved expression, he changed his suggestion. “Or at least let me make you tea?”

“Tea would be fine.” Lin conceded as she went to change her clothes.

Tenzin got to the kitchen quicker as he did not need a change in clothes, having fallen asleep in his robes.

Lin followed soon afterwards, barefoot but in her daily uniform, carrying an overnight bag.

“You’re going straight to the station?” Tenzin got some cups out as the tea continued to steep.

“Yes, it’s going to be a long day.” Lin did not look forward to these meetings and public speaking engagements. There was a reason why she did not choose to be a diplomat or a councilwoman. She was a woman of action, like her mother.

She rummaged through the bag, checking that she had everything in place.

“How are you getting back to Republic City?” He poured her a cup tea. “I don’t suppose the ferries are operating now.” He leaned back, tugging at his beard while watching her sip her tea. “Or late last night either. How did you get to Air Temple Island anyway?”

She gave him a crooked smile. “I phoned in a favor.”

“What – how – how?” Tenzin stammered, staring at her. “This isn’t illegal, is it?”

“Of course not, it’s me you’re talking to.” Lin scoffed, finishing her drink. “I once helped a dockmaster catch a couple of smugglers in a case I worked on as a detective a few years ago.” She pulled her metal boots from the doorway. “He said I could borrow a boat or a ship anytime I’ll need it.”

“Good morning, children.” Katara entered the room quietly. Only Katara could get away calling the Gaang’s offspring as children, even if most of them are past their thirties.

“Hello, mother.” Tenzin poured her a cup of tea too.

“Lin,” Katara greeted the woman in the Republic City police uniform. “You’re here.”

Lin leaned over to give her adoptive aunt a hug. “Yes, but I’ll need to head on now.” She saw Katara gesture towards the dining table, indicating breakfast. “Thanks, Aunt, but I’ll need to prep for today.”

The waterbender gave a light laugh seeing Lin make a face, recalling that Toph did not like those kinds of meetings as well. “Well, all right. We’ll see you later?”

Lin gave a non-committal sound as she got up to leave.

“Good luck, sweetie.”

Tenzin moved to give her a quick kiss before she hurried off, the ground reaching to meet her as she bent her way to the docks where her borrowed boat waited.

----------

Tenzin waited inconspicuously at the City Hall lobby. Well, at least as inconspicuous as an airbending master (one of two in the entire world) could be. He fidgeted from the stone bench he was sitting on. He figured he better wait until the council meeting was over. He wanted to take Lin out for an early lunch. If the meeting was good, they can celebrate. If it was particularly challenging (or infuriating, Lin might say), he can help her let off some steam.

He was lost in this reverie when the doors flung open.

There was a lot of commotion as the press started taking photos. Security was able to halt any further movement of the press into the council hall.

The Chief of Police rapidly exited the room, looking ahead and exiting the building; her three metalbenders struggled to catch up. The press followed, her stoic expression not discouraging them from plying her with questions.

It all happened so fast that Tenzin did not even get to call out to get her attention.

His father and uncle came out of the hall soon afterwards, albeit in a slower pace.

“Son!” Aang noticed him looking at the entryway of city hall. “You’ve come to join us?”

“Uh – Lin – I,” Tenzin’s eyes darted from where Lin just passed to his father, standing in askance at him.

“Let’s go, Tenten.” Sokka slapped his back, never mind that the airbender was a couple of inches taller. “If we’re lucky, we’ll find a good spot.”

“Good spot?”

“Yes, we preferred not to go the VIP route. Lin would have hated that.” Aang started to walk out of city hall, pleasantly surprised that all attention went with the young Beifong woman than the avatar.

“Well, she would have given it to us still if we asked for it.” Sokka considered, holding up his hand, trying to look against the sunlight as though searching for someone.

“Always hated attention,” The airbender stood patiently, waiting. “Very un-Beifong of her, I should think.”

“Who is very un-Beifong?” A voice rang from behind them, coming from one of the pillars.

“Toph!” Sokka rushed to give her a hug, which the blind earthbender deflected with a punch to his forearm.

“Hey, Snoozles.” She stepped aside as the Water Tribe chief greeted his wife who had picked her up from the pier. “Thanks for sending these two old ladies to fetch me – no need to do so though.” Toph Beifong sniggered, as she felt Katara and Suki roll their eyes as the Beifong heiress was only a few years younger than them.

“Good to see you, Sifu.” Aang tilted his head in acknowledgment to his earthbending teacher, who positioned her foot subtly then smiled somewhat sadly in return.

Tenzin tensed as he felt the milky green eyes turn to him. “Chief Beifong –.”

“That’s Toph Beifong to you, Junior,” Toph snarked, but accepted his bow. “I don’t see Lin around, you know.”

“Hi Sweetie,” Katara gave Aang quick kiss on the cheek. “Tenzin, there you are. I was looking for you earlier.”

Tenzin was bewildered at the gathering of their family at the steps of Republic City Hall. “Why are you all here?”

Toph slapped Tenzin upside the head. “I know I’m not the perfect goody-goody mother like your mother here. But don’t you think I’d at least try to be there for my child?”

The younger airbender still looked in confused as the group paired off and proceeded to what Tenzin saw as the direction of the police department.

Tenzin and Toph soon outstripped Suki, Sokka, Katara and Aang as Sokka got sidetracked by a street food vendor.

“It’s more difficult for her, you know.” Toph spoke, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

“I’m sorry?”

“Lin is in a more difficult situation now than I was in the police force.”

The tattooed airbender threw his girlfriend’s mother a glance. “Well, I understand there is a difference being the current chief versus being the actual founder of the entire force…” He trailed off.

“That’s not all of it,” Toph leveled the pavement in ahead of them, removing the uneven placement of bricks which were a result of shoddy workmanship. “I know she truly climbed up the ranks on her own. She deserves this position based on her own merit.” She felt Tenzin nod beside her. “It was different when I first resigned – she was a just a detective then. Captain Lee became my successor; he stayed there for seven years or so. I remained as consultant to the force during that same period. And, you know how Lin was mentored as his eventual successor.”

Tenzin was not sure where this discussion was going. He also was not sure why they were all trudging towards the police headquarters.

“Lin is truly on her own now.” Toph paused as they neared their destination. “I wouldn’t be around – I haven’t been around for some time now. It’s all up to her now to keep everyone in line and help make Republic City safer.”

Having reached the Republic City Police headquarters, Tenzin saw that an assembly was about to begin. The press was already positioned at the forecourt and a crowd of citizens have likewise gathered. The police force was also stationed in the area, with the Republic City Police and the Metalbending Police sectioned separately.

He squinted and easily found the Chief of Police at the head of the stairs, beside a podium which was set up for the occasion. She seemed to be barking out instructions to her subordinates.

Tenzin was surprised to notice that while there were other women police in the force, there were none in the elite Metalbending division. No one, at least, except for their leader.

“But you’re a girl too.” Tenzin blurted out without thinking.

Toph raised an eyebrow at him, amused. “Why, thank you for noticing. I figured you must have realized that at some point, given that I gave birth to two kids.” She slapped her foot down, sensing the perimeter to see if there are possible threats to the gathering in front of the police department.

“I mean, you and Lin,” Tenzin turned red, stammering. His brother would laugh at him if he were there. Despite being an eloquent speaker, Tenzin easily gets flustered among family and friends. “Lin is a woman too.”

Satisfied with her perimeter check, Toph turned to the airhead beside her. “I’m sure you’d know that pretty well, eh?” She gave a laugh, enjoying the racing heartrate and heat of embarrassment radiating from the man. “I’m also sure you’ve done due to diligence to confirm that she’s a woman?” She took pity at him. “Well, yes, there would probably be similar experiences between my daughter and myself, but she’s her own person. While she would need reminding sometimes, this is very apparent to the police force.” She flicked a hand to indicate the group of uniformed officers. “It’s challenging enough to get into the academy and get a good position in the force. Just think of all the male egos thinking she got a free ride not knowing she probably had to deal with worse as she was raised by me?”

“It would be hard to make sure they get in line,” Tenzin started to understand.

“Yes,” Toph nodded in appreciation. “Mind you, all the old ones – no problem with that. They all trained with me and Lin. They’ve been around longer.” She shook her head in emphasis. “No, I’m not worried about old-timers – they respect her.”

“The rest are probably terrified of Lin,” Tenzin ventured, recalling work stories about the newer officers that Lin shared as they ate dinner at home.

“Don’t be simplistic – I never felt any of the officers look at me the way they do at Lin.” Lin’s mother responded irritably, not being able to get through the man and so deciding to be as blunt as possible now. “They’re all too terrified of me for them to make a move on her. Times change, junior, and I’m no longer around Republic City as much. The mere threat of my presence used to be enough to deter them, but now,” Toph’s tone hardened, facing the general direction of the police force. “Not even her distant manner and aloof comportment can dampen her appeal.” At the airbender’s sharp intake of breath, Toph knew he finally understood what she was telling him. “I’m not threatening you – far from it. I don’t think Lin would do anything about it if she knew; she’s too attached to you for some reason.” Toph rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I just thought you should know - keep you on your toes, remind you to appreciate my girl. Otherwise, you might have never known; I think you’re a dense airhead like your father.” Just behind them, she could vaguely hear Suki wheedling some jerky from Sokka to subtly remind him of his healer’s recommendation to lay off salty food. “Or your mother for that matter.” Bending a brick in Sokka’s path so he tripped, tossing the paper bag of jerky in the air. “Definitely from your mother’s side.” The blind woman grinned, opening her palm to catch the paper bag as it fell.

“Hey, that’s mine!”

As his uncle struggled to take the bag from the master metalbender, who cackled as she started to eat the jerky, Tenzin could only watch Lin Beifong from afar, processing all that her mother imparted with him.

The current Chief of Police stood tall and poised amidst the frequent flashing of cameras, consulting a folder on the podium. She was getting ready to begin.

Lin was taller than the average woman from any of the Four Nations. Growing up, she did not feel comfortable about it. Already a bit more athletic than the average Republic City lady in the finishing school that the Beifongs went to, Lin felt her height was an impediment. Tenzin had always appreciated Lin’s height; he used to say that it was the perfect height for him to give her a hug. However, it certainly did not help that Bumi would occasionally tease her that she was possibly taller by a head compared to more than half the men in his regiment. That was until she learned to metalbend and once zipped open his fly while he was chatting up a group of women during one of their parents’ parties. Tenzin smirked in the recollection of Bumi apologizing to the women and to pleading with Toph not to arrest him for indecent exposure.

Watching the woman now, any insecurity seems to have been tamped out as Lin welcomed everyone confidently. Tenzin let her voice wash over him as she gave an introduction and an update regarding the earlier council meeting.

He did not see any reason to doubt the warning the former Chief of Police shared. Scanning over the crowd, he saw everyone listening attentively to her measured statements. He wondered how many of these people (and her people) were harboring romantic (or even less than wholesome and unsavory, he thought darkly) intentions towards his girlfriend.

His girlfriend. It clicked in his mind.

“But I’m her boyfriend. I’m an airbending master.” Tenzin whispered furiously at the oldest Beifong woman. “Shouldn’t I be enough of a deterrent to whatever they might be thinking of doing?”

The blind metalbender let out a snort. “You – not saying this to offend you, junior – are a pacifist. And these,” She nodded towards the sea of metal before them. “Are kick-ass metalbenders off to defend the entire United Republic in any way they can. Do you think they’ll be impressed just because you’re the only Airbender of your generation?” She crossed her arms. “Didn’t think so. Wait a minute – junior, do you even know what we’re doing here?”

“What? Of course, I do.” Tenzin aimed for a blank expression and a steady heartbeat, seeing that Toph had angled herself to face him. He barely caught the tail-end of Lin’s introduction speech.

“And so that is the overview of the achievements of the Republic City Police during the first ninety days of my official term as Chief of Police.” Lin’s voice echoed in the forecourt. “We will now proceed with the details regarding each of these items and how they relate towards the City Council’s performance pillars.”

Tenzin’s eyes widened. He had been too preoccupied with his own concerns that he had failed to check-in on Lin. Today was a milestone day in Lin Beifong’s career as the Chief of the Metalbending and Republic City Police department.

“You forgot – didn’t you?”

The airbender felt the ground gave way below him and then suddenly rise up to launch him to the sky.

“You, airhead! You’re more clueless than Twinkletoes!”

He was vaguely aware of his father trying to calm down Toph and hundreds of people turned to see what the commotion was about. But first, he needed to land.

Using his airbending, Tenzin descended beside the column of earth that Toph had seen fit to eject him from.

He raised a hand and gave a small smile at Lin’s stunned face as she was forced to pause her speech due to the disturbance. The tightening of her lips did not bode too well for him at this point.

Toph stopped arguing with Aang long enough to realize that the forecourt was silent except for them. “What?” She sensed her daughter’s mortification from yards away. “Proud of you, Chief!” She made a fist bump. No one moved a muscle as Lin waved one hand to the side and crossed her other arm to her chest. “Well, fine, let me drag myself and Master Tenzin here to the precinct for disorderly conduct or something.” She bent the ground to attach to Tenzin’s legs and literally dragged him sputtering in indignation, to the side entrance. “Carry on, carry on. See you later!”

Bumi sniggered from beside his mother. “Who would’ve thought it would be Mr Well-Behaved who would be called for a time out today?” He quickly put on his innocent face when Katara glared at him.

Aang smiled brightly at everyone else looking at their corner, waving them to turn their attention to the podium and for Lin to proceed with her speech.

Lin was right: it was going to be a long day and it was not noon yet.

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Notes: Thanks lone reader :) Let me know what you think!

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