#yes i’d willingly be his little pet i have no more shame about it

[pinkkittysaw]

the barnabas thoughts are getting to me

[boislut-neo]

Bois list~!

You can find a full list of bois and girls at the bottom of the page~! ^^

Beacon Academy is a school to teach young bois how to be the biggest slut they can be. Every student is taught to worship cock, to worship the balls underneath it, and to know his place as a cumdump whore who needs a sweaty sack to rest against his face.

There are mandatory classes to teach the students everything they need to become the best set of fuckholes they can be!

Wanna see our best best girly bois dressed in yoga pants showing off their sexy bodies? Head on down to the Yoga class! There you can find groups of trained whores putting their ass’ into shape for your enjoyment, go ahead, have a feel! Pick a skank and fuck him in the middle of the class, make all the other sluts jealous you didn’t pick them!

There’s the pole dancing/lap dancing class where bois are taught the importance of workin’ it like a stripper! Watch those stupid sluts work the pole like they were born to~! Have a favorite? Tell him to shake that ass on your lap~! he’ll be happy to give you a lap dance, especially if he can feel your cock pressing against his plump ass~!

And then, there’s my favorite~! Twerking class~!! Watch, as the particularly bottom heavy sissies of beacon start shakin’ their ass’ to the beat of the music, showing just how willing they are to twerk for some fat cock~! Give their ass’ a nice hard smack, it’s practically a requirement~! Wanna make a boi really happy~? Whip out your cock and start slapping it against someone’s bouncing ass, make sure your meaty cock feels every jiggle as you do~!

Let’s not forget about our faunus bois~! They love wearing collars, they love getting led around on leashes, they love doing tricks. They love being stupid slutty pets for everyone~! Pet them when they’ve been good, spank them when they’ve been bad, make sure to use their faunus traits to your advantage~! Cat faunus have rough, textured tongues that feel great against your cock and balls, give it a try~! Remember, it’s not racist if they beg you for it~!

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Nora Valkyrie

Nora is an air headed bimbo with cock on his dumb little mind. Who needs smarts when you could have a nice fat cock in your ass~? Call him cutesy names like Baby Boi, Sweetheart, Faggot, Slut, Whore, he loves it! His last Daddy taught him that gropings were compliments and he should thank whoever smacks his ass as they pass by.

“Hello~ This is an invitation to do whatever the fuck you want to me~! Whatever that means. The others told me to say that~! They said I’d meet my new Daddy and that he’d make me feel extra good~! Oh! And Emerald told me to say, I hope my slutty body and plump little ass can make you cum lots~! Hehehe~ My last Daddy taught me what that one means~!”

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Emerald Sustrai

Emerald is a naughty little whore who needs to get his fat ass fucked till his legs start shaking and he’s begging for more. Use him, abuse him, call him a bitch, pull his hair, smack his ass. Hell, you can get away with slapping him across the face.

“This is an invitation to do whatever the fuck you want to me, make me regret it~ Want me to twerk for you? Tell me where to shake my fat ass~ You want a blowjob? You better make me suck your balls first~ You wanna fuck me? Tell me to spread my ass for that cock~ I want bruises, I want marks, I want people to ask me if I’m okay because you fucked me so hard! I don’t know how many times I have to say it! Use me! Fuck me! Spank me! I’ve been a bad little twink and I need someone to punish me~!“

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Neo

Can’t a guy make a little money doing what he loves~? Neo is a greedy whore, in every sense of the word. Coming up to about crotch height with just about everyone he meets, he loves when a cock flops out onto his girly face. Buy him and you can use him like a little fuckdoll~ Pick him up and fuck his tiny hole, he can take it~ A tiny beautiful slut with a fetish for being manhandled and abused! What��s not to love~?

Neo stood smirking, a sign in his hand “This is an invitation to do whatever the fuck you want to me. As long as you can afford me, I’ll be the perfect little pocket slut~!” Neo gave a wink, his hand making a lewd gesture as if jerking off a cock.

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Velvet Scarlentina

Poor little Velvet is Beacon’s very own big booty bullied bunny bitch~! Shy, cute, fun to bully, adorable when she cries, has a fat bunny booty built for spanking, a cute little face made for slapping, and is the perfect pretty little pain slut even if she cries and whines about it being untrue~! This sweet little hunny bunny loves having her rabbit ears yanked, practically cumming on the spot as she’s dragged into the men’s bathroom to be used as a cumdumpster, loves getting slapped and groped by every person that wants a handful of her fat, jiggly ass~! Tearing up from the deliciously vicious torment she gets everyday, sniffling and sobbing as her partner leads her around on a leash, selling her holes for pennies to complete strangers~!

Everyone knows the the little slut is acting, getting off to her own sobbing and begging as she’s treated like a piece of meat thrown to the wolves, acting like she’s being forced even as she signed up for it willingly, signed up to get treated like the filthy faunus slut she wants to be, crying like a little princess even as she gets drunk off of sniffing and sucking fat, sweaty nuts~! Yes, Velvet loves being the damsel in distress, the “unwilling* toy to get used and abused, to get smacked around, hands around her throat, called the worst things you could think of~! This sweet little bunny might just have a rape fetish, the poor thing~!

“…Th-…This is an invitation to-.. to do whatever the f-fuck you want to me.. Sniff! P-Please don’t pull my ears, they’re really sensitive.. I don’t-.. Coco makes me dress up like a complete whore, a-and she told me that if anyone tells me to shake my cottontail, I h-have to t-twerk for them and grind on their c-cock.. Please be gentle!”

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Pyrrha Nikos

Pyrrha is the master of the pole, the best dancer at Beacon, and an all around eager slut. This beautiful redhead came to Beacon to experience life a little differently, and has come to love his new life as a nutsucking whore. He just can’t get enough of how people stare at his slutty body hungrily while he works the pole like a cheap stripper, or how they stare at his voluptuous, bouncy ass while looking at him like a piece of meat~ This perverted champion was a virgin before enrolling into Beacon, and it wasn’t until his second night that he was finally broken in by the entire football team. Fresh out of practice, each one had a turn with the shy yet eager girlyboi, teaching him everything he needed to know about how to properly clean a sweaty pair of cumchurners.

On top of being the best poledancer the school has ever had, Pyrrha also finds himself as captain of the cheer squad, having joined the group the morning after his lovely greeting by the team. Now you can find Pyrrha in the locker rooms after every game, win or lose, ready to be the stress toy for the guys who haven’t even showered yet. And it was this constant exposure to big, sweaty, smelly men that lead the poor little slut to becoming Beacon’s biggest scent freak as well~

“Hello~! Th-This is an invitation to do whatever the fuck you want t-to me, Darling~! I hope we all get along wonderfully! Would you like for me to p-polish your balls~? Maybe you’d like for me to show you why the team calls me their personal goal post~? I-It’s because my legs are aways open~ Why not use my ponytail as a handlebar while you use and abuse my tight, hot, slutty little asshole~? please be as rough and forceful as you can~ Yank on my hair and smack my ass, make me your dirty little bitch~! I’m here to please, so use my body however you fucking want and stuff me full of you cum~! A-And if you don’t mind.. Could you please slap your cock all over my face and let my worship your balls~? I-I love doing that~”

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Penny Polendina

Penny, the adorably eager little slutbot, has been enrolled into Beacon as the prototype model for Altas’ soon to be announced line of sexdroids, and he’s very eager to learn how to be the perfect little slut he was designed to be~ A little airheaded, and too innocent for his own good, Penny will do just about anything you order him to, if he thinks it’ll teach him how to be a better fuckdoll~ From his fat little heart-shaped ass, to his perky little nipples and mini prick, this sentient sextoy was made to be the perfect set of holes for even the roughest of users~ This little bitch is incapable of feeling pain, does not have to breath, and was made with self heating, vibrating holes. Though he can twerk with the best of them, his blowjobs are his defining feature~ Now, this little redhead is very eager to learn how to be the best slut money can buy, doesn’t know how to say no, and loves making new friends. So why not grab a handful of his plush little bottom and do whatever you want to this cute little whore! Choke him, slap him, spit in his face, call him a useless pile of scrap metal! He’ll love every second of it, and say thank you with smile on his face~

As Beacon’s unofficial school mascot, Penny was the perfect fit for joining the cheer squad with his fellow redhead! Bubbly, adorable, perky, and looks damn fine in a mini-skirt, he’s the center of attention at any cheer practice session~! Everyone’s favorite thing to do with the little roboslut is to ‘flip his switch’, activate his slutty programming, and set it into overdrive~ Gone is the lovable, quirky little sweetheart, and in his place is one of the biggest sluts Beacon has ever seen~! Slut-mode Penny has no shame when it comes to dropping to his knees in a crowd, inviting everyone there to have a turn with his eager little mouth while he stares up with a look of pure, whorish hunger~ Penny won’t stop until he runs out of battery, taking groups of people all at the same time as they fill each of his holes. Some students even using him as a simple nut cleaner.

“Salutations! This is an invitation to do whatever the fuck you want to me, please help me learn how to be a slut! I enjoy anal, cumshots, and larger men! Before I came here, Mister Ironwood would use me as his personal sack warmer so I would sit under his desk for hours with his cock dripping on my face while I continuously suckled on his balls~ It always tasted so good, it’s now my favorite part of men to put in my mouth~! He also used to call me his good little sissy, so I love that as well! I’m well versed in all kinds of seduction and sex acts, so please specify what you’d like for me to do for you Sir~!”

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Ruby Rose

Little Ruby Rose is not as innocent as he looks, his Daddy made sure of that. While he may not be the most depraved, he definitely loves fat cocks and big yummy balls. He loves when big strong men treat him like a toy, picking him up, slamming him against a wall, and making him squeal like a whore. He may not have the massive tits that that bimbos usually do, but Ruby has an ass made for fucking, slapping, and groping.

“This is an invitation to do whatever the fuck you want to me! I can’t wait to make some new friends~! I love cookies, strawberry cake, and big fat sweaty cocks! I hope you like me calling you Daddy, ‘cause I really do! I know I’m kinda new to this, but this ass can take whatever you give~ Please fuck me extra hard, and maybe spank me while you pull my hair~? Please Daddy~!”

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Weiss Schnee

Weiss is not your typical bitchy rich boi. He loves big fat cocks to slap him across the face and have a pair of heavy balls rubbed all over it. He loves tarnishing the Schnee name by posting video after video of him taking the biggest cocks in every one of his little holes. He loves to service faunus cock and send the proof to her father.

“I hope you’re watching ‘Daddy’~! Watch your disgracefuly slutty son debase himself for all this fat cock! Ahem! This is an invitation to do whatever the fuck you want to me~! Make this privileged little bitch your dirty fucking cumdump and send all the vids and pics to *** ***-****! My ‘Daddy’ will probably want to kill you though!”

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Blake Belladonna

Blake Bellabooty, the kitty cat cock slut. He has one the best ass’ around, and he knows it. Yoga pants, booty shorts, thongs, anything to make his fat ass the center of attention. He loves twerking his ass for pretty much anyone who asks. He especially loves shaking it on someone’s lap, grinding his bubble butt right up against a hard throbbing cock. Blake has a rivalry going on with Emerald, both of them believing they have the most fuckable ass, which usually leads to a twerk battle with both of them taking off clothing as to get more votes. By the end they’re always completely naked in public, bouncing their booty’s and showing off their holes for the crowd while begging for votes and cock.

“This is an invitation to do whatever the fuck you want to me. I like petplay so ask me for my collar and leash~ I love having huge cocks fucking me into a little slutty mess while someone spanks my fat ass. And yes, it is a fat ass. My ass, the Bellabooty, was made to get fucked, made to be used~”

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Yang Xiao Long

Yang is a total party slut~! He’s the life of every party and orgy he can get into to, the center of attention. You can find him dressed to the nines in slutty clothes, shaking his ass for anybody who asks while offering his body up for public use~! A total daddy’s boi, he can’t get enough punishment.

“This is an invitation to do whatever the fuck you want to me~! I love parties, cum, cock, and anybody who want’s to be my daddy~! I just wanna live life like the slut I am and suck some fat sweaty dicks whenever I can~! Come on, let me dance for you, whip that cock out, let’s have some fun~!“

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(I’ll be doing the same thing for all the bois at some point) 

Girls to bois: Ruby Rose Weiss Schnee Blake Belladonna Yang Xiao Long Nora Valkyrie Pyrrha Nikos Penny Polendina Ciel Soleil Cinder Fall Emerald Sustrai Neo Salem Glynda Goodwitch Coco Adel Velvet Scarlatina Neon Katt Winter Schnee Kali Belladonna Sienna Khan Ilia Amitola Fembois: Neo (I just really like the idea of him being a trap~!) Jaune Arc Lie Ren Sun Wukong Oscar Pine Whitley Schnee Adam Taurus Mercury Black Roman Torchwick Qrow Branwen (A drunk trap!) Ozpin James Ironwood

[This is a work in progress! Not all of them may stay! I might have missed some, just assume that if I’ve posted about them on my main blog, they’re allowed here to!]

[arlandvery]

Alabaster Stones (Come and Lay Your Bones) Chapter 2

So yay, chapter 2! Chapter 1 for the energy savers! And Ao3 for good measure! Thank you to @yandere-love-love-love for their shout out last chapter and @veninos-posion for helping me develop the idea more.

The harem never changed, Tomura reflected, watching the omegas flutter about like brightly colored insects. Birds might have been more apt, with their habit of cooing and clucking at him, trying to entice him. He continued to stare into the fountain, watching the fish as they darted among the flowers and leaves, occasionally poking their mouths up for food. Were these the same fish that he’d fed and taken care of or had they changed? Who knew?

Sensei’s constant needling had brought him here. Tomura didn’t know if he’d fuck one of them yet but being in the harem would at least give the illusion that he was looking to release some of his stress. But none of them…did anything for him.

The harem was still the same hollow shell that it had been hen he was a boy. The omegas were older, that much more desperate for attention now that he was the heir apparent and they’d yet to be bred. Sensei hadn’t touched some of them in months. It was probably a good thing that he’d isolated Mother, he reflected sullenly, staring down at his blurry reflection. The harem had been terribly competitive, and that was before Sensei had chosen a favorite- he could recall several poisonings when he was still small.

Small…

His reflection disappeared as one of the fish popped up, mouthing for food. Pathetic cretin.

Mother had always liked them though. She had a weakness for small, helpless things. It explained her gentleness to Tomura.

The man had held him for all of the journey from the burned out remains of his home village. His arms were strong and warm and Tenko had felt so safe. He’d tucked his face into the man’s chest and not moved by choice since he’d been scooped up, afraid that he would be put down again, that he would be abandoned, or sent back into the dark.

The palace loomed over them, casting them in shadow as the man brought him inside. Tenko dared to look and see the massive gates swinging open for them, then peered up at the man.

He just smiled down at him, “welcome home, Tenko.”

Home

The man brought him through many winding hallways, each of them growing darker and darker, until he was in a room more beautiful than anything that he’d ever seen.

There was the immediate rush of high-pitched voices, and the smells of perfume, incense, nests and omega- Tenko felt dizzy with all of it.

“Master!”

“You’ve come home!

“Welcome, will you be joining us?” Too many voices, too much…

The man, the Emperor, Tenko learned later, set him down gently and laughed when he pressed close to his leg, too scared to be intimidated. The omegas that had gathered around them laughed and cooed over him.

“Master who is this precious thing?”

“A stray I found being abused. He was too pretty to be left alone.” The Emperor’s hand carded through Tenko’s hair, seemingly not caring about the grime and grease. The gesture stung because of the tangles, but he was just too eager for that kindness. “I thought he might benefit from your lovely company.”

One of the omegas laughed and cupped Tenko’s cheek. He was lovely, with hair so blonde it was nearly silver, and his hands were soft enough that Tenko knew he’d never worked hard in his life. He was clean and beautiful and smelled nice, and he was dressed so lovely that Tenko couldn’t stop looking at him.

The Emperor grinned and introduced the beautiful man as Azami, “my favored companion.”

“He is a pretty thing, isn’t he?” The omega mused, smiling a little.

“Imagine what he’ll look like when he’s clean.” Another snickered, Tenko blushed. The man gave the omega a look so ugly that it might have been kinder just to hit her.

“Regardless, will we be educating this one, Master?”

The Emperor turned it over, staying silent as he looked down at Tenko. Tenko shuffled awkwardly, feeling exposed. He was hungry and tired and ashamed of how he looked.

“Not yet. I’d hate for him to present as an alpha and all of your work go to waste. He’ll just be educated and housed here for the moment.” Tenko wondered if he was imagining the way that the omega’s face relaxed a bit.

“Of course, Master. We’ll care for him.” Hopeful, Tenko allowed himself to be drawn away from the Emperor.

“A tailor will be here in the morning to get you something to wear, child.”

Before he left the company of his omegas though, the Emperor drew him close and embraced him one more time. Tenko felt himself relax and hug back.

“From this day, you are under my protection. Do you understand?” The Emperor’s voice was soft and nice, and Tenko nodded. The man cupped his cheek again. “From today on, your name is Shigaraki Tomura. You aren’t Tenko anymore- you aren’t bound by his pain, or his limits.”

It sounded wonderful. To be a new person entirely.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“You may call me Sensei, Tomura.”

Tomura flicked a pebble into the fountain, frowning at the ripples.

Behind him there was a burst of laughter behind him, and Tomura stiffened instinctively, thinking of Azami and his smiles and biting words.

The door to the suites opened and a hush fell over the harem as a warm sweet scent swept through it. It worked like magic, and Tomura turned to face Mother and her guards as she entered, smiling, red cheeked, as though nothing out of place had happened.

“My Lady!” One of the younger omegas cried happily, flocking to her. Mother laughed and let them touch her. It made the warm feeling in his chest wilt where it was, leaving him hollow and cold. No one should touch her, no one deserved to touch her.

“My Lady, you look wonderful!”

“Positively glowing!”

“Do you think it will take this time?” Unless you were looking for it, you would have missed the flash of pain in Mother’s eyes, but no one could miss the smug look on Lady Kiku’s face, or the way that the two women stared each other down, the pretense of civility barely there.

“I suppose,” Mother mused, casting her eyes down finally, “that we’ll have to wait and see, Lady Kiku.” The other concubine snorted and glided away, her attendant following behind her, practically running to keep up with her smooth gait.

With the trash absent, that left Mother to preside over the concubines for a bit, the alpha bitch of the lot of them, no matter how they all might hate it. Including her. They brought her petty problems and paid her worthless compliments by turn, each more false and useless than the last. The lies stacked on top of each other, turning the warm, friendly air into something rabid and feral. Each and every one of the men and women here would have gladly slit Mother’s throat for a chance to be the Emperor’s Pet.

The favored position was much coveted and very precarious- usually only the extremely lucky or wickedly clever made it. And only one of them lasted long. Assassination attempts, whether physical or by reputation, were common and expected. Mother had the disadvantage- she’d been a poor child when she was sold to the Emperor; she’d had no political teaching, no way to defend herself.

But that was what Tomura was here for.

Sensei might have given the order for Tomura to make the scrying skull, but it had been the thought of leaving Mother alone with no one watching her that inspired him to put so much work into it.

He sat at the fountain for hours, waiting for her, until finally her business ruling over the roost was finished and she could spare a minute to join him, siting down beside him.

“Mother,” he breathed, blown away by her smile. Her real one, not the fake one she gave the harem, or seductive one she gave Sensei when he wanted her.

“How are you, Tomura?” She asked, touching his hand. He was still surprised by how soft hers had grown. Did she miss the blisters and the strength in them built up from the manual labor?

“Fine. Sensei thought my being here would help calm me down.” And he’d been right, just, probably not in the way that he thought.

Moher grinned, “that’s good. How are your studies coming?”

“Fine. I’m having difficulty imbuing glyphs at the moment, but it’s coming along well enough. Sensei says it’s because the magic that I’m infusing them with is opposite my natural magic.” She nodded along and signaled. A servant appeared moments later with a low table and tea.

Normal tea.

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen you,” she admitted, crumbling up a biscuit delicately. Tomura watched with a small smile as she fed the fish. One more thing that didn’t change here. “I’ve missed you, To-chan.” He melted a little at those words.

He wished, not for the first time, that there were no guards around. The eunuchs always watched her, watched them. Sensei might be willing to tease him and taunt him, grant him little victories that meant nothing in the long run, the man took no chances. His Pet belonged only to him, and while Tomura was his heir, he was still an alpha.

If they were gone, he thought, I’d hold her. I wouldn’t fuck her or mark her. I’d just hold her again, feel her heartbeat beneath the palm of my hand.

“I can’t remember the last time we had a meal together,” she continued, only half playfully.

“Sensei keeps me busy.” Tomura muttered into his tea cup. The truth was just as bitter.

“I’m sure he does, To-chan.” She examined the surface of the pond. “Are you two getting along?” The pain crept back in her voice, and she couldn’t quite stop the twitch of her hands towards her abdomen.

“He’s Sensei, why wouldn’t we get along?”

It would hurt her, knowing that Tomura knew what she did. For her it was a shameful secret, proof of her lack of charm. She was still unbonded, she willingly gave up having pups every heat. Tomura saw it as a testament to herr commitment, and her love for him.

Just not the right kind of love.

But that was fine.

She’d learn.

Azami might have been beautiful, but he wasn’t kind.

He didn’t dare physically hurt Ten- Tomura, but he didn’t have to.

The concubines saw Tomura as future competition and wanted to put him in his place now.

“You’ve jus entered the harem, dear Tomura,” Azami would purr as his makeup was applied. He set impossible tasks for the boy, wanting to see him fail, for Sensei to see that the ‘new pretty boy’ was useless. He trailed after them and picked up their garbage, served their tea, fed their pets and kept them cleaned, he made the beds and collected discarded clothes. Because Azami was the one in the Emperor’s bed so often, the rest of them followed his lead in turning Tomura into their handservant.

All except one.

They called her “Fetch”, because that was what she did. She fetched things and did thigs. She’d been there longer though, and unlike Tomura, was slated only to be concubine. They abused her because she wasn’t from their background.

“A farmer,” Azami sneered, pinching her chin with his too sharp nails, “in the Emperor’s harem. Can you imagine, Tomura?”

(Later, Tomura would learn that this tactic was called ‘divide and conquer’, and used I himself, more than once. But back then, he’d been a child still unused to being fed 3 times a day and allowed to sleep in a bed)

“I can smell the manure from here,” one of Azami’s maid muttered, making the man laugh.

But Fetch was good to him.

“Let me help,” she’d whisper, slipping beside him. She would often neglect her tasks so that he would finish faster.

Because they were underservants and still unpresented, Fetch and Tomura slept in a little alcove next to one another.

“Why are you so nice to me?” Tomura whispered one night.

“You’re not nobility, right?” The girl whispered right back, turning in her bed so that they were facing one another. She was older than him, perhaps 10 to Tomura’s 5. He nodded. “Well, commoners should stick together.” She admitted, but Tomura could see her frowning. “Besides, it’s not right that they treat you like that. You’re just a baby.”

It didn’t sound like an insult, and it made Tomura feel warm.

That warmth spread from his chest and soon his eyes were burning.

In a moment, Fetch was out of bed and wrapping the small boy in her arms and tucking him close to her. Tomura cried into her nightgown while she quietly hummed and petted his hair, letting him let it out. Tomura cried himself to sleep and woke up still in her arms, face tucked into her neck.

It was the first time they might have shared a bed, but it wasn’t the last.

If Fetch had been helpful before, now she was downright caring. She was always there to help him and take care of him. She covered for him when it was time for his lessons, because even if Sensei ordered it Azami and his omegas didn’t let up on his chores- often Fetch did some of it while he was gone. In return, he repeated his lessons for her so she could learn too.

Tomura wondered if this was what it was like to have a mother.

Fetch was always Mother after that.

She laughed and hugged him the first time she heard it.

Azami watched them with a serpent’s gaze.

“I’ve heard that rebellion activity has quieted.”

Tomura couldn’t hide a grin. Mother’d been snooping again.

“Where did you hear that?”

“A little bird.” She said flippantly, smiling back. “Can you blame a woman for being invested in her son’s safety?”

“Matters of war, Mother.”

“Matters of my son, Tomura.”

He brought her hand up and kissed the back of it, unable to help himself. Her smile was warm and soft like melted caramel.

One of the eunuchs coughed. Mother took the hint and removed her hand.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

[fableweaver]

Arc of the Dragon Keeper

“It baint be much o a tale milady,” Colm said over their camp fire. They had traveled a few days until at last Colm seemed comfortable to tell his story. His reaction to Hors had been mild, telling that he had already seen the dragon earlier.

“I still wish to hear it,” Iounn said and Colm glanced at his daughter. She and Lofn were playing cat’s cradle together, they had become fast friends. “Has your daughter not heard the tale?”

“Nowt, she were always too young,” Colm said as he glanced at his daughter. He sighed and turned back to Iounn looking haunted. “I were young, as ye might guess. I were a sheepherder o the moors, n it were the Winter Solstice. I meet a lass n we tuffled, but the next mornin she cried rape. She were actually the daughter o a baron, in Daun it baint be uncommon fer the nobles ta scrape elbows with common folk. She had ta keep her reputation, sos she cried rape.

“Her da had me in a cell faster than ye could blink. Only later she were found with child. Soon as the child were born we were sold ta Nyrgard, been traded bout ever since.”

“How long is your sentence?” Iounn asked.

“Baint ken,” he answered. “I always thought it’d be fer life.”

“I could…”

“Nowt milady,” Colm said quickly. “Without ye I baint have a livelihood, I’d be a freed slave with a child. Worse yet a criminal.”

“Point well taken,” Iounn said. “You could head back to my steading.”

“With what?” Colm asked. “Ye gave enough already ta buy me n Nora. Milady let me serve ye at least fer now.”

“Very well,” Iounn said resigned. “But next village I am buying you and Nora some clean clothes. I’ll not have my servants looking like a bag of rags.”

“Thank ye milady,” Colm said with a kind smile.

“Wonderful, two more to our company,” Hors said dryly.

“You don’t want Colm and Nora along?” Iounn asked dryly.

“By all means the more the merrier,” Hors said. “Especially the child, she has a touch of the Elder Magic.”

“Elder Magic?” Iounn said while Colm looked startled.

“The powers o the Phay,” Colm said. “Mine daughter be a green witch?”

“No, she will outgrow it, many like her do,” Hors said. “It is more common for those of the young races than the outlanders.”

“Young Races?” Iounn asked.

“Daunish, Hyrian, Aldan, Lirian, Xinian, and Rhodin,” Hors answered. “We of the Phay called the races of men ‘young races’ because they were young to us. We had found Miread and lived in it for eons before the races of men rose up from beasts. They were to become the Aldan, Little Kindred as we liked to call them, after ages of some of the Phay siring children on them. The Rhodin came from the beasts as well, but they kept aloof from us keeping their own ways.

“The Daunish, Mud Men, came next out of the mud and they used stone tools. They and the Dwarves wared often, though the Daunish kept to the lowland moors while the dwarves kept to the mountains. The Hyrians, Water Children, were wary of our kind, but we respected them and they respected us. The Xinians, Demons of Burning Sands, we had few interactions with them in their desert. The Lirians, Men with Silken Hair, however were warlike, we had wars with their kind for centuries.

“I remember when the first outlanders arrived, the Elmerians we called them the Quivering Children. They were peaceful and joined us willingly, living alongside the Aldan. It wasn’t until the Markians arrived that things changed. They brought a plague with them that devastated the humans though did not touch our kind. The Nyrgarders came after the Markians and held war with everything that moved. As I remember the Nyrgarders came from the same land as the Markians, fleeing the starvation that the plague had caused in your home lands.

“Tell me, have any gone back?” Hors asked looking at Iounn.

“None have returned,” Iounn answered. “We barely survived the crossing the first time as I was told.”

“I guess that is why the others have not sought their own homelands then,” Hors said sounding disappointed. “Last were the Regarians as I remember, their greed for gold was like a starving lion. They held wars for that metal, I don’t know why.”

“Last?” Iounn asked. “What about the Dridians?”

“Dridians?” Hors said as he blinked, his double lids flashing over his large eyes.

“The mages,” Colm said. “Many say they be why ye marched, that ye baint able ta stand another powerful race like ye. They say the High Magic baint mix well with Elder Magic.”

“We marched before the Dridians even arrived,” Hors said interested. “And we wouldn’t have cared if they had power or not. As for this High Magic, I don’t know anything of it.”

“Then why did ye march?” Colm asked his eyes burning. Iounn realized then that Colm had a deeper understanding of the Phay than she did; the Daunish had their own mysteries. Hors was now staring at the fire, his tail strangely still.

“The Lost Court was in chaos,” he said lowly, Iounn feeling a chill down her spine; he was telling a story and Phay stories had power. “Titania wanted to march, Mab wanted to stay and make peace, Mór Ríoghain wanted war, and Oberon and the rest were on the fence or playing several sides. I used my power as one of the eldest, to call for the march. Many had their own reasons for wanting to March, but my own were known only to me.

“Decades before we marched, one of my subjects came to me. Lyl was a beautiful young dragoness, but very foolish. She came to me because she had taken human form to lay with a human man, only to come with child. Even in her dragon form the child remained, and she feared the choice. See the Phay have larger spirits than men, making us long lived and invincible, almost immortal as you would say. The male Phay were able to sire children on human females easily, however Phay females cannot bear a mortal child easily. Their spirit is so hot it would burn the child, so either a female Phay must abandon the child, or their ember of power that makes us Phay.

“Shucking such a large part of one’s soul is not easy and comes with much pain. Few have done it, those who made their own races like the Dwarves. It makes children with small souls, larger than the average men, but small compared to the elder Phay. Those are the ones who must tie themselves to Fors Wheel lest they become lost on the lay lines. Giving up one’s ember means becoming mortal like those Phay and ride the wheel.

“Lyl came to me afraid. It was before Eileen had braved giving up her ember, so we did not think it could be done. She did not want to lose the child, our kind rarely breeds as men do and she was not old enough to dream her own. She thought she might be able to dream the child within her since it was already started. I took her to a dreaming place and stood guard outside, waiting.

“Five years I waited as Lyl dreamed, our kind could always dream our own form in sleep but it took a long time. I was patient, until I heard her cry out. I dug into the dreaming place to get to her, but by the time I arrived Lyl was dead. I found her body twisted in pain, her chest and belly hollow and bloody. Lyl’s dreams had turned to nightmares; the child had eaten its way out of her as she had tried to dream it.

“The creature was not dragon or Phay, it was not even complete. I saw its spirit try to live in the monstrosity of flesh it had made, only to fail. It fled from me into the lines, and was gone before I could stop it. I looked to Lyl, trying to find her spirit, but that too had been eaten by her child. I burned her body and that dreaming place to slag.

“That child still lives. He is a soul eater lurking the lines, going to dark places and opening paths he should never have opened. Those of the lines call him the Crippled One, but his true name is Aeon, the name of the dreaming place I destroyed was passed to him.

“You asked why we marched, we marched because I feared Aeon who was naught but hunger; he cannot be more than it because he was born empty. He would consume all the Phay and still he would not be satisfied. I thought my kin would be safe in Tir Aesclinn until I could hunt Aeon down and stop him. I wandered the lines hunting for him, but could never find him.  So I took to Fors’ Wheel, my time along the lines had shrunken my spirit enough I could ride upon her wheel.

“Now that I think on it the Crippled One probably hid from me. My search hindered him until I went on Fors Wheel, the Crippled One was free to move and make his plans. I believe those plans involve taking over Miread and making it his own, so I went on Fors Wheel to be reborn. I needed a body to be reborn to however, and that was when you sang Iounn, awakening one of our old eggs. I took it and here I am, reborn. I must seek news, and find out what Aeon intends; if he is reborn I must be there to kill both his body and spirit and destroy him at last.”

They sat around the fire silent, in awe of Hors story. At last Iounn had questions come to her, and asked them freely.

“Why me?” Iounn asked at last.

“I don’t know,” Hors answered. “You sang the song and I followed, it might be a simple as that. But I see something on your spirit, it is hard since I am so young now, but I cannot tell what.”

“It be fate,” Colm said and Hors laughed, Colm looking startled by the strange noise of his laugh.

“Fate? Where did you hear such a thing?” Hors said. “I have lived a long time master Colm and I have yet to see or meet any creature or god controlling our lives. There are those of the Phay that can tweak things here or there however…” He trailed off as if thinking now.

“Why did you not tell me this story first thing?” Iounn asked.

“Lyl was my greatest shame,” Hors said. “She was not my child, nor any other blood relative other than being one of my kind. Nor was she a close friend or lover, she was much younger than I. Yet as her king I failed her.”

“You did the best you could Hors,” Iounn said as she pet him. “That is all the gods ask.”

“Thank you Iounn,” Hors said deeply, his voice so low she could barely hear him.

“I’d hate ta ask this, but can ye kill Aeon?” Colm asked. “Ye couldn’t afore.”

“I did not know his true name then, I should have realized he had stolen part of the name of the dreaming place he was in. I know now.”

“Even so Hors I think Colm is right,” Iounn said. “You can’t even fly yet, only glide.”

“It may take Aeon years, decades to find a way to be reborn,” Hors said.

“And you said it would take lifetimes for you to even grow to adolescence,” Iounn said and Hors sighed wearily.

“You are right,” Hors said. “I am no longer a match for Aeon. But I have power and his true name; if I gain aid in the Elder Magic we can defeat him.”

“Aid liken the Phay?” Colm asked. “Er a green witch?”

“It would have to be a very powerful witch,” Hors said. “The aid of the Phay would be better, but in order for me to gain the aid of the Elder Kindred they would have to march.”

“Right inta the arms o Aeon,” Colm said and Hors nodded. “How do the Phay march, n do ye ken when they might?”

“You are Daunish, you have heard of the omens right?” Hors asked and Colm nodded. “Those omens are the signs that the Phay will march, the song stirs the aether and causes the omens. That is another reason I need news, I need to know how close they are to marching. The more omens and the stronger they are, the closer the Phay are to marching. They cannot march however without the song being answered by the Stone Flute.

“The Stone Flute was carved out of the bones of Kur, the eldest of the Phay, mother of my race, and the first of the Phay to have formed in Miread. It has always been a guide for our kind, when it plays the song the Phay will march. Not anyone can play it, only one of the Elder Phay can play the answer of the song.”

“Can you?” Iounn asked.

“No, I do not have the power in such a young body,” Hors answered.

“But all the other elders are in Tir Aesclinn aren’t they?” Iounn asked.

“One is not,” Hors said with a smile. “Eileen, Mab dreamed her in Tir Aesclinn, she was the first of our dreamed children and still had the Elder power of the first of our kin. Even after shedding her ember to bear the mortal child within her, she’s retained much of the Elder Magic. She was the one to play the song when we first marched, and I think it has to be her who plays it again.”

“But she is long dead isn’t she?” Iounn asked.

“Yes and reborn many times,” Hors answered.

“So it seems you have many missions Hors,” Iounn said. “Kill an immortal dark spirit, find a lost stone flute, and find the reborn spirit of a princess of the Phay. Is that right?”

“Pretty much,” Hors said as he nodded. “And I do not know which to do first as I do not know if the flute has been found or if Eileen is even alive right now. A search means travel, and in this form travel is hard and long.”

“Do ye even ken where the flute be?” Colm asked.

“No, I had hoped one of you might. Any legend or mention of songs might be helpful.”

“None come to mind,” Iounn said. She looked to Tollack and Josef, but they hadn’t been playing a game of bones and not listening.

“I been hearin many tales but I baint ken o any flute,” Colm said. “Where were it last seen?”

“In Eileen’s hands before we marched,” Hors answered annoyed. “What the Aldan did with it after that I do not know.”

“Alda then would be a good place to start,” Iounn said. “I suppose you couldn’t give any hints to Eileen’s new life?”

“Well she would only be reborn as an Aldan or with Aldan blood,” Hors answered. “Her spirit is still sizable so she must have a body that can bear it and only one with Aldan blood could. I don’t think she would be reborn as one of the Younger Phay, like a Dwarf or Merrow, their spirits are shaped different. She was a fairy before she gave up her ember, so her spirit would have to be in a body shaped much the same.”

“What about the Dridians?” Iounn asked. “They have power.”

“I don’t know anything about the High Magic or the size of the mage’s spirits,” Hors said. “It could be them. Alda though sounds like our best place to start the search, for Eileen and the Flute. But if Aeon is moving I must know what he is doing.”

“Of course,” Iounn said and then looked to Colm whose brow was furrowed. “Are you alright with this Colm? You are bringing your daughter into the middle of great struggle.”

“I used ta listen ta tales o the Phay all the time from mine gram,” Colm answered. “Those tales been dying even afore mine gram. I’d be glad ta see the Phay return unce again.”

“Then let us see to it,” Hors said grimly.

It was another month of travel until they reach Hólmsted, Hors taking the time with resignation. There was nothing he could do about their pace, they were traveling at a regular pace. Hurrying would have harmed the horses, and they couldn’t keep such a pace up. Through the mountains travel was hard, the season was prime for travel and the passes were clear.

They saw Hólmsted, the city of sleeping giants, days before they arrived. Clearing the arms of the Ionnfell Mountains they looked out onto Thorrak Bay, the waters gray blue in the summer sun. The shores were rocky here, sheer cliffs, rocky beaches, and treacherous sea caves. Standing on a peek over the gray waters was Hólmsted. The keep and city were all made of stone, though details from here were hard to see. Just below the peak a wharf of ships laid, Iounn betting the base of the mountain had natural caves providing a safe port.

The mountain rocks here were dark pinnacles and rough tumbles to the sea. It was treacherous ground, giving them few times to look at the city and they made slow progress. The horses were all the tough mountain breed of Nyrgard, sturdy but ugly brutes. Despite having the city in sight it still took them another day to reach the foot of the mountain. Here a shanty town had sprung up, a town of wagons and rude houses. A crude wooden palisade had been raised around the town, yet there were still camps out around it.

Riding through along the road Iounn looked at the poor excuses of humanity that had gathered around the foot of the mountain. They were mostly Elmerian, some Nyrgarders, and a smattering of Rhodin. There were many wagons, and not just the colorful Rhodin wagons. None of the wagons bearing goods could make it up the mountain so they all stopped here. Warehouses stood over all the rude huts, though Iounn was sure the king had his own private larders up at the keep.

Riding through the shanty town, ignoring the hoots and calls of beggars, they reached the only stone structure of the town. The Thunder Gate was built with two towers, the gate standing between them. The leaves of the gate stood open, built of massive redwood logs bound with iron. They rode under the portcullis, the iron spikes much like the fangs of a beast. They stopped in the gate, a guard standing before them with a pike resting on his shoulder.

“Name milady?” he said curt but polite.

“I am Iounn, Baroness of Stóstund,” she answered, showing her signet ring. “And my daughter Lofn. I am here to announce the death of my husband to the Court of Legends.”

“Very well milady,” the guard said with a quick look at her ring. “You may pass, be careful up the trail, it can be treacherous.”

“Thank you sir,” Iounn said and the man stepped aside.

“There were crossbows trained on us,” Hors said quietly once they were clear of the gates.

“They have a right to guard the king,” Iounn answered. “I am relieved that such care is taken.”

Hors made a non-committal sound and they kept riding. The trail switched back up the mountain side, occasionally disappearing into a tunnel lit by torches. The trail was built mostly for horses and their mountain bred horses handled it well. They reached the top with no small effort, the horses breathing heavily.

Hólmsted stood at the top of the mountain, high walls looming over the path. The gates were open and after another showing of her ring and introduction they were let through into the main city. Though not a large as many southern cities Hólmsted was thriving. The streets were all paved and buildings all made of evenly cut stone with timber roofs. The stone was dark, making the city seem a bit gloomy. There was no sign of green or growing things, just stone and lumber.

The people they passed were all Nyrgardic, dressed in fur and leather, many wearing mail. It wasn’t uncommon to see Nyrgarders armored and armed despite being protected in the walls of Hólmsted. Iounn had never seen so many people and she stared openly at the grand buildings and crowds of people as they made their way to the central keep. As they rode a cry went up and the crowd began to part. Iounn moved her horse to the side of the road, her party following suit.

A party of horsemen rode by, all looking ready for a hunt. The man in the lead was a Regarian, his hair golden and skin fair. He was on the chubby side, his face looking soft shaved of a beard in the southern style. She instinctively bowed in her saddle to the man and he looked her way. He stopped his horse so suddenly some of the guards following him had to wheel about to avoid crashing into him.

“Who are you milady?” the man asked interested. He was perhaps around her age, but it was hard for Iounn to judge on such a pudgy face. Other than the excess fat he was a fairly handsome man, his blue eyes as deep as the sky.

“I am Iounn Baroness of Stóstund,” she answered. “I’m afraid my steading is so far away I do not know you milord, though I can tell you are a man of great standing.”

“I am, nor do I fault you for your ignorance Lady Iounn,” the man answered preening. “I am the Prince Regent of Nyrgard, Armand Roque.”

“A pleasure to meet you majesty,” Iounn said with a quick bow to hide her distaste. When the Kings Wars had ended Arian Drasir the first had arranged several marriages to the other kingdoms. It wasn’t to ensure loyalty, but to have an heir to their royal line so that if they ever rebelled he could place the child on the throne. For Lir he had married his daughter, the current king’s sister, to one of their sons.

For Nyrgard Arian Drasir the first had chosen his bastard son. Son of a minor baron Armand Roque had little interest other than hunting so rumors went. He had married Sten Tyr’s only daughter Frida Tyr, but as a bastard he could not take the throne so was given the title of Prince Regent. According to Nyrgard’s peace treaty their child would be named heir over all Sten’s other sons, giving Drasir control over the Nyrgardic throne. Frida had died giving birth to the crown prince Modi Tyr.

“What brings you to Hólmsted milady?” Armand asked, his Regarian accent making the name sound flat.

“Business of my late husband’s,” Iounn answered and she saw Armand’s interest which he quickly masked with feigned grief.

“I am sorry for your loss milady,” Armand said.

“I thank you majesty,” Iounn answered. “We must be along, we are holding up traffic.”

“Of course, milady,” Armand said. “I look forward to seeing you in the Court of Legends.”

Iounn kept her face lax as he turned and left, trying not to make a childish face after the retreating lord’s back.

The main keep’s walls stood higher over all the other buildings, made of the dark intimidating stone again. The gates here were open as well, but there were more guards once again. Iounn showed her ring, but instead of being let inside a guard ordered her to wait by the gate. It wasn’t long before a man hurried out. He wore a fur robe, his beard well braided and blonde hair clean. He was Nyrgardic, though didn’t look like a warrior.

“Greetings Lady Iounn,” he said with a bow.  “I am the second prince Ekkehard Tyr and the King’s seneschal; I am here to welcome you to court.”

“I thank you milord,” Iounn said knowing it would be rude of her to point out his insult at making her wait at the gate.

“Come, servants will see to your horses,” Ekkehard said. Iounn dismounted and then helped Lofn down from her pony. They led their horses into the paved courtyard where servants hurried to lead them away to the stables. Ekkehard walked off towards the hall, his fur robe billowing after him. Iounn followed, Lofn at her side, Colm just behind her with Nora in tow, and Tollack and Josef last.

“What brings you to Hólmsted milady?” Ekkehard asked conversationally as they walked.

“My husband passed over in the winter,” Iounn answered and Ekkehard looked appropriately morose. He though was around her age, and his eyes lingered on her chest. “I am here to bring news of his death.”

“Surely that is not all milady?” Ekkehard asked. “A messenger bird could carry such a missive.”

“No, I admit I yearned to see the Court of Legends for myself,” she answered.

“Well I hope it impresses you,” Ekkehard said as they reached the massive doors. They entered though through a side port, the main doors too large to open alone. Inside the main hall was staggering; the ceiling so far above the candle light did not reach it. Massive stone pillars lined the hall, hearths with roaring blazes between every other pillar. Tables were set up by each fireplace, giving no order to the room.

In the middle of the hall was a stone pillar that reached to the ceiling. As they walked closer Iounn saw it was carved in the likeness of a tree, so detailed she could see bark.

“It isn’t a carving,” Ekkehard said grinning. “That is Yggdrasil.”

Iounn gasped in awe reaching out reverently to the petrified tree. Yggdrasil had been a legend of Nyrgarders from their homeland, a tree that had birthed the world. The tree had crumbled centuries after standing tall as giants. That had been the sign that her people had needed after years of wars and plague. They left their homeland, and brought what was left of the world tree with them.

Regretfully she pulled away from the stone tree and followed Ekkehard towards the far end of the hall. Here the stone wall was carved into a story of their crossing and battles with giants. Banners with the king’s emblem, a wolverine rampant, hung everywhere in the hall. A table stood on a dais here, and the royal family was seated there.

King Sten Tyr was old, his hair white and face lined. He wasn’t infirm though, his forearms still thick and back straight. He wore the gold torc in sign of his ruler ship, as did his children. His sons sat next to him, Iounn though didn’t know their names. She also noted that there were no women at the table, the Queen had died she knew as well as Sten’s only daughter. None of the princes were married, which worried Iounn.

“Father!” Ekkehard said as he walked up to the table. “May I present Iounn the Baroness of Stóstund?”

“Stóstund…” Sten said musing. “Ah Gridor’s steading, off in the mountains.”

“His son inherited after the war majesty,” Iounn said with a bow. “My husband Goran was the holder after him. He passed last winter and now our son Sigur is Baron of Stóstund.”

“I mourn for your loss milady,” Sten said kindly, his empathy genuine. “I am startled so much time has passed.”

“Thank you majesty,” Iounn said. “Is the Queen here?”

“Alas my wife died some time ago,” Sten answered. “The grief of losing her only daughter was too much for her.”

“I am grieved to hear that majesty,” Iounn said putting her hand to her heart.

“Go and ask,” the man next to the king said as he leaned forward. The first prince looked drunk already, his dark hair and beard braided like a warrior’s. “Why haven’t any of us married?”

“Ignore Roland milady,” Ekkehard said. “My elder brother took to drink after Modi was born and took his throne.”

“If I weren’t such a great warrior I’d have died in the King’s Wars and been spared such humiliation,” Roland moaned as he took a long pull from his drinking horn.

“Where is the crown prince?” Iounn asked looking around for the cause of such troubles.

“Who cares?” another of the princes said. Iounn looked to him and saw he was fair of hair and handsome, but the dark circles under his eyes told of melancholy.

“Raban is the storm cloud of our family,” Ekkehard said. “Third sons are like that.”

“And you’re an ass Ekkehard!” the last prince shouted. He was a young man that sat with a cocky attitude and looked to have yet to have a good beating. He looked much like Raban though his healthier complexion marked him apart from his brother.

“That would be Dirk,” Ekkehard said. “His mouth is bigger than his…”

“Enough Ekkehard,” Sten said dryly. “Do not use such language to a lady. Come Lady Iounn, join me at the table.”

“Thank you majesty,” Iounn said honored.

“Your servants may eat with the others,” Sten said waving towards one of the far fireplaces. Colm led his daughter off towards the table, Tollack and Josef wandered towards one of the tables with guards. Iounn went to the main table and there was a bit of shuffling as room was made for her and Lofn.

A servant set a plate before her and Iounn was pleased to see an array of beef wrapped in bacon, yellow potatoes and pearl onions joined in thick gravy. There was fresh bread and butter, and Iounn set to eating with a will, but her table manners remained neat. Once or twice she did remind Lofn to eat neatly as well.

“It is always a pleasure to see a woman eat,” Sten said after Iounn had finished. She took a delicate sip of her mead, having enjoyed the meal immensely. “Tell me Lady Iounn, is that a cat I see hiding in your hair?”

“He is a dear little friend of mine,” Iounn answered. She dared not lie directly to the king, but she of course could not reveal Hors. Sten looked interested and signaled to one of the hovering servants.

“Go and fetch some liver for Lady Iounn’s cat,” he said and the servant bowed.

“I’m sorry milord but he is quite shy,” Iounn said. “I would like the liver to feed him in my rooms, but he won’t eat in front of others.”

“A shame,” Sten said disappointed. “He looks quite intelligent from his eyes.”

“Thank you majesty,” Iounn said, trying to think of a way to change the subject.

“If you’re the king where is your crown?” Lofn asked and Sten laughed.

“I wear a torc in tradition of our homeland,” Sten answered smiling at Lofn. “Your daughter is lovely milady, is she your only daughter?”

“No, I have another I left at home,” Iounn said and then told the King about her children. She found once she began talking of them she felt how much she missed them. Sten listened to her patiently as his sons argued and caroused around them, getting more and more drunk.

“You are fortunate to have children heed you,” Sten said at last seeming sad. “And that their hard work has been rewarded.”

“A situation may always be changed to your benefit if you only look hard,” Iounn said and Sten sighed.

“You know of our situation,” Sten said. “What am I to do?”

Iounn thought about it and she felt Hors shift a little on her shoulder.

“Regency,” Hors whispered to her, so softly she could barely hear him.

“A regency,” Iounn said and Sten looked startled. “You are getting on in your years majesty, but Modi is still far too young to take the throne. If you abdicate and name Roland as the regent, then he may rule.”

“But the treaty…” Sten said. “And Roque…”

“The treaty only says that you must name Modi as heir to be king,” Iounn said. “It says nothing of a regent I bet, or how long Modi must be king. As for Roque as long as he can hunt I doubt he will care. Roland may stay as the regent for decades, Modi doesn’t have to take the throne when he is of age does he?”

“I’m not sure,” Sten said. “I will have to look at the treaty.”

“Tomorrow majesty,” Iounn said. “I have had a long day traveling, might we take care of these legalities later? It might be better for Roland to sober up first as well.”

“Yes,” Sten said wearily as he looked at his drunk son. He of course had not heard anything they had said. “Rooms should be ready for you and your servants.”

He waved again to a maid and she stepped forward.

“Thank you, your majesty,” Iounn said as she stood and followed the servant, Lofn quickly following her. They stopped to gather Colm and Nora, but Tollack and Josef were in their cups so Iounn decided to leave them behind. The maid led them through dark stone hallways and up a few stairs. She stopped outside a door, opened it, bowed, and left without a word. Iounn entered to find a clean small room with a big bed, table and chairs, and a fireplace with a fire already burning. Colm went and lit a few candles from the fire and set them on the table.

“Nora and mine will sleep on the floor milady,” Colm said, indicating the bed mat that lay in the corner.

“Nora may join me and Lofn in the bed,” Iounn said with a smile. “There is nothing improper about that.”

“Thank ye milady,” Colm said turning to Nora. “Thank the lady Nora.”

“Thank ye,” Nora said quietly.

“Wash up both of you,” Iounn said to the girls. “Then bed.”

“Yes mother,” Lofn answered and went to the basin to wash her face.

“Don’t your kind ever bathe?” Hors said as he pulled himself out of Iounn’s hair and hood, going to the table.

“It is hard to warm the water,” Iounn answered. “If you like we can arrange it.”

“Yes, no offense but you do smell,” Hors said as he began to groom himself with his tongue.

“I will arrange it milady,” Colm said as he left. It didn’t take long; the servants of the king were apt in their duties. They adjoined to another room that had a bath tub and Iounn, Lofn, and Nora all washed. Nora seemed a bit shy, but when Lofn stripped her clothes she joined as well. Clean they returned to their chamber to dry their hair before the fire. Iounn sat before the fire brushing out Nora’s long red hair. She was amazed by the color; a dusky orange with hints of red and brown.

They went to bed once their hair was dry, Iounn glad to be in a bed once again. The next morning she rose early, Lofn and Nora rising as well. A servant arrived and served them a breakfast of soft boiled eggs, bacon, bread, and imported oranges from Xin.

“Is the king awake?” Iounn asked.

“He sleeps in milady,” the servant answered with a bow. “Court will not gather until luncheon.”

“I see,” Iounn said disappointed. She had wanted to question the king about events across the kingdoms. “Thank you, have you eaten yet?”

“I have milady thank you,” the woman said with a smile. “Though…” she snuck an orange slice popping it in her mouth. She gave a curtsy and hurried out.

“Ye have a way with servants milady,” Colm said smiling as he too ate a piece of orange. “This be good.”

“So what will we do this morning?” Lofn asked eating her egg.

“How about we explore the castle?” Iounn asked and Lofn smiled.

The castle turned out to be fairly vast as they began to explore it. Iounn led the way through the halls, past servants and various halls until they reached the outside. It wasn’t hard to find the gardens, situated under the west tower by the west wall. They were over grown, rose bushes and weeds tangled together in overgrown knots. Iounn sighed; it looked like the gardens had gone neglected since the deaths of the matrons of the royal house. It was a cool morning but clear, the summer days staying a bit warm still.  

Lofn and Nora quickly outpaced Iounn’s slow walk, running ahead and giggling. The sound of a mandolin being played drew her, a wonderfully deep baritone singing along with the song. She followed the music to a pine tree, a man sitting under it and singing. He looked up at her, but did not stop and Iounn walked to sit in the soft pine needles by his feet. Colm lingered by the path, his hands folded behind him in the stance of a servant.

At last the bard finished his song and looked to Iounn who sat near him.

“I thank you milady for the audience,” he said with a bow of his head. He was a handsome man, about ten years Iounn’s junior telling by his youthful face. His dark hair was tied loosely back and beard neatly trimmed. His eyes were an icy blue, not cold but clear.

“It was a pleasure milord,” Iounn said with an answering bow. “Telling by your nose you must be one of the princes, though I thought I met them all at court yesterday.”

“I am the fifth son Soren,” he said as he rolled his eyes. “I do not particularly like getting roaring drunk with my brothers. Though it seems I missed meeting you milady.”

“I am Iounn Baroness of Stóstund.”

“A pleasure milady,” he said with a grin.

“Are you a bard milord?”

“Yes I am, I just completed my training. My father was very proud to have at least one son do something with his life.”

“There is nothing holding back your brothers,” Iounn said. “But their own blindness to what they think they can do.”

“Very true milady,” Soren said smiling. “Tell me what brings…”

A shriek made them stop and Iounn leap to her feet. Thinking Lofn was in danger she hurried through the garden to the source of the sound. She found Lofn on top of a boy a little older than her, shoving his face in the mud. Nora stood nearby, a large splatter of mud all over her. It was the boy that was shrieking and Iounn hurried to pull Lofn off him.

“What are you doing young lady?” Iounn asked holding Lofn by the elbow, it was very unlike her to start a fight. She had never even raised a hand to Jorn’s worst taunts.

“He threw mud at Nora!” Lofn said defensively. “For no reason!”

“She’s a mud girl!” the boy answered as he sat up and wiped his face. Iounn saw then he was a Regarian, his fair skin and hair marking him as such.

“Looks like you met your match Modi,” Soren said as he laughed and Iounn felt the blood drain from her face. “Relax milady no one will care if your daughter shoved mud in that brat’s face. His father’s hunting all the time and everyone else wishes he were dead.”

“Thanks uncle Soren,” Prince Modi said mournfully as he got to his feet wiping his face. Iounn clicked her tongue and took out a cloth. She tenderly cleaned the prince’s face of the mud, the boy scowling at her.

“Better,” she said when done. “Now both of you apologize.”

“Me apologize?” Modi said indignant.

“But mother…”

“Lofn,” Iounn said sternly looking down at her daughter. Lofn flinched and turned to the prince.

“I am sorry milord,” Lofn said with a bow. “My anger got the best of me.”

“Good,” Modi said proudly turning up his nose.

“Now you,” Lofn said. Modi looked about to argue but Iounn reached out and twisted his ear. The boy yelped until Iounn let him go.

“Sorry,” he muttered rubbing his ear. Iounn reached for him again and he raised his voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Lofn said with a smile. “But it is not I you owe the apology to.” She turned to Nora who was busy brushing the mud from her smock. She blushed as they all looked at her.

“I’m not apologizing to some mud…” Iounn twisted Modi’s ear again and he howled. “Alright,” he said and Iounn released him. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you milord,” Nora said in a small voice before running to hide behind her father.

“Well done Lady Iounn,” Soren said. “I’ve never seen Modi give in.”

The boy scowled looking ready to argue, but a simple glare from Iounn killed the words on his lips.

“All that was needed was the hand of a mother,” Iounn answered. She looked at Modi and saw his sadness that his mother was not there. She held her hand out to him but the boy turned away. She sighed and turned back to Soren. “I take it his father never took him in hand.”

“Too busy hunting and whoring,” Soren answered.

“And you?” Iounn asked and Soren frowned. “Why have you not looked after him, he is your kin.”

“Not by choice,” Soren answered crossly. “Frida was my only sister and that brat took her life! He took my brother’s throne; he’s stolen everything from us! Damn Regarian scum.”

Modi’s head dropped with each harsh word, Iounn understanding his petulance now. He tried to give himself as much self-worth as he could, because everyone else denied it to him. Iounn looked at Soren with a steady eye before she slapped him full across the face. He looked so astonished she nearly laughed.

“He is a child born into this fate not by his choice,” Iounn said. “You of all people should know you can shape your fate and not let it rule you.”

Soren stood staring off at nothing, struggling to swallow her words. Modi was in turn staring at her looking awed.

“Thank you,” Modi said at last as he looked away, wiping his nose. Iounn sighed and once again wiped his face with a cloth. This time Modi let her and then took her hand.

“I am sorry,” Soren said, looking at Modi. “I guess I haven’t been a very good uncle.”

“No,” Modi said in a small voice.

“It is never too late to mend bonds,” Iounn said.

“Sure it is, when one of us is dead,” Soren said with a grin. “Not that it is likely.”

“One certainly hopes not,” Iounn said, seeing Soren had a morbid sense of humor. “How about a song milord to lighten our hearts?”

The children looked enthused by this and Soren smiled. He returned to his seat by the pine tree and began a simple tune that Iounn knew well. It was a tale of Jónas Thórson, a sailor that explored much of the Wandering Sea. He was said to have been swallowed by a whale, lost forever to the sea. Everyone applauded when Soren finished, and the bard prince took a flourished bow. Iounn felt Hors on her shoulder dig his claws in a bit, and she remembered why they were here.

“Milord…”

“Please Lady Iounn call me Soren,” he said with a grin. She realized then he was flirting with her, and she felt suddenly like laughing. He was so young he seemed like her son.

“Lord Soren, I was wondering if you have heard the news of the kingdoms of late,” she said trying to keep her tone formal. “I’d like to hear what has been happening in the wider world.”

“I have milady,” Soren answered pleased. “The Princess Jeanne of the Mark has married Elrik the heir to the throne of the High King. I heard there was an up roar at the ceremony, a fanatic of a recent cult broke into the temple and set off some kind of magic explosion.”

“What kind of cult?” Iounn asked.

“I’m not sure but I heard they worship a single god,” Soren said. “They call him Lord of All or something like that. It is mostly Elmerians and slaves that follow the cult, in small rural villages and the like.”

Iounn heard Hors hiss but he said nothing else.

“What other news?” Iounn asked.

“There are storms to the north on the Wandering Sea,” Soren said. “All summer they’ve been raging and now that winter is coming I doubt they will abate. It’s limited trade and my father has been lamenting on the loss of the taxes. There have been reports of earth tremors near Daun and the northern lights have been seen by some far to the north.”

“What else?” Iounn asked.

“Some have said the birds act strange,” Soren said after some thought. “They have been migrating to odd places. I am no animal expert so I can’t tell you more.”

“What of the south?” Iounn asked, wondering if there was more.

“There’s been nothing from Hyria no surprise there. Regis and the Mark have been all talk over the wedding. Dridia is always an enigma and Alda have kept to their borders. In Lir the new king has taken the throne. In Xin I heard the Pridesmen have been raiding and they have a king called Zar Ne Zar.”

Iounn felt Hors prick his ears up at the mention of Xin.

“Is there any more news of Xin?” Iounn asked.

“Not that I’ve heard but you can guess how the desert is, so much hidden out in those wastes.”

“Right of course,” Iounn said disappointed. “Thank you.”

“You wanted to hear more?” Soren asked disappointed. “If you go down to the docks you might be able to hear more.”

“I will do that,” Iounn said. “Excuse me a moment I need to think.”

She stood and went behind a rose bush, Hors climbing out of her hair to perch on a nearby tree branch.

“Did you learn what you needed?” Iounn asked.

“Not entirely,” he answered flicking his tail. “The cult he spoke of, they are following Aeon. I’m not sure what he is up to with them, but he is controlling them.”

“You’re sure?” Iounn asked.

“It is just a guess but it is something Aeon would do I think,” Hors said. “He would need followers to do his bidding and having them call him lord would be good for his ego.”

“So we should avoid this cult?” Iounn asked.

“Yes, but learn what we can of their plans,” Hors said. “We need to know what Aeon is up to.”

“You seemed fairly interested in Xin,” Iounn said.

“That is because it was where Kur died,” Hors said. “She died in battle against the Serpent King, they both died. The Serpent King’s body became the dead sands to the south, his flesh became snake sand. If you touch it you’d turn to stone. Kur’s body is the Spine Mountains, though her head landed in the middle of the desert. I don’t know entirely how, but the Ark River’s source is where her head fell.

“This was long before the race of men came to the desert, before most of our kin even arrived in Miread. Ever since Kur fell there the desert has been closer to the aether. When the Phay plan to march signs begin to appear, more of these signs show up in Xin because it is closer.”

“So more of the signs will be in Xin,” Iounn said. “Should we try and go there. Looking for news of the desert will be hard outside of it.”

“Maybe, how would we get there?” Hors asked.

“Well we could take a ship to Lir and ride south,” Iounn said. “That would be faster. But wouldn’t going by land be better to learn more news?”

“We would have to travel through lands I’m sure are crawling with the cult,” Hors said his tail twitching. “We should stay here and gather information before we make any decisions.”

“Right,” Iounn said as she nodded feeling a little excited. She felt excited just talking about such faraway places like Xin or Lir. A journey was on the horizon.

[rippermartyrstefan-blog]

No Devils Left in Hell (1)

Caroline His hand easily slipped around her, and the angel Couldn't help but recoil slightly. He expected her to have fun, to act as if she hadn't just been kidnapped and been given blood by him to bind them forever. "Don't pretend to know me, Niklaus." She hisses, her eyes remaining glued to the floor. "I've dealt with you for long enough, I know how to deal with demons." Or that's what she had told herself, as she was trying to appear brave. But really, what did innocence know? Her eyes meet his for a moment, taking a step to the side. "So I get to get away from you for a night? This party is sounding more and more like fun." She mocks, peeking out and into the crown momentarily. Everyone...every single person out there was wearing black, but her. "Are you trying to make me stick out? Flash your shiny new angel toy around?" 

Niklaus joined the chat 11:14 AM

Niklaus She was immediately angry at him, which was what he expected. Perhaps it was not such a good thing to let their fellow party-goers see how unafraid she was of him, but again, he could not help but enjoy her spirit. "But I do know you. You forget how long I watched you. Studied you." He could see many curious faces, many jealous, or impressed, or a combination of all. He relished in all of them. His father was yet to make an appearance but he saw Rebekah and Kol huddled together, raising a glass in his direction. No doubt they expected he would let them torment Caroline for their own fun. But she was his and his alone. "I am quite singular, or so I'd like to think. You might find them quite different from me. And yes, I'm willing to leave you to your own devices. I expect you'll return to me before long. Not only because you prefer my company but because you will want the protection only I can offer you." He gazed at the space she had put between them with a frown, then caught her eyes, giving her a warning. "Can you feel their hungry gazes upon you, angel? It is only out of fear of me that you are untouchable." He did not expect her to thank him for it. It would be enough when she returned, somewhat willingly, to him. "You are the guest of honour. Of course I wanted to make you look your best. And I find that white makes you ravishingly beautiful, sweetheart." 11:25 AM

Caroline "Oh, how could I forget that. How could I forget the way you spied on me for god knows how long." What exactly could he have learned from that, she kept on wondering. She'd like to believe she was somewhat mysterious, but she couldn't really be. She wasn't able to experience enough to really gain her own personality, in her opinion. Constantly locked up, to protect their most precious asset. And now what was the point of that? She had ended up in this hell hole-quite literally-anyway. "You're all the same. All some type of evil characteristic in demon form. You just happen to be one of the more...powerful ones." Some would say the most powerful, but she wasn't about to inflate his ego. After his words, after he made it seem as if he was all she had, she was determined to stay away from him as long as she could. "Let's get something straight. If you call me another nickname, I'll make it known just how much I don't want to be here by going right back up to my bedroom." She was blushing, despite herself, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Let's add not looking at me like that to the list too." 11:39 AM

Niklaus: "I know that I will never forget the time we shared together. It was all... very enlightening." She was peculiar to him, difficult to understand. One moment she was fragile, shy and the next, commanding and glorious. She could be so much more than what the angels had allowed her to be. Perhaps there was a part of her that knew that, wanted more. It would fall to him to help her achieve that, of course. "Ah, but my power is yours for the using, if you wish for it. We could do great things, together, my dear.And I will call you all the nicknames you want, if it means we go to your bedroom," he smirked, willfully misunderstanding her. Her cheeks were reddened, something he was wholly unaccustomed to seeing. There was no shame amongst his own people. But the effect was pretty, he supposed, though it served as another reminder of how very different they were. His hand lifted to touch her cheek, delicately brushing the soft red skin. "Ah, but looking at you gives me such pleasure. And that is what this night is all about. Look around you," he gestured to the crowds in front of them, listening the the cacophony of noise they made, "My friends all know to embrace their desires. Here, we do exactly as we wish in our innermost hearts. Perhaps you'll enjoy that, for once. Letting go of innocence." 11:51 AM

Caroline "That wasn't us sharing time together. You watched me from a distance, listened in on my conversations and stared at me. That's not time together." She had only been with him for barely a week, and already she could feel herself changing. Becoming defiant despite herself, stubborn. But if it was against a demon, then wasn't that for the best? Okay, he must just be trying to enrage her, because his next words cause her cheeks to redden even more, if it were possible. "I don't wish for any of it, and you know that. It's only a matter of time before I escape you, or heaven comes and retrieves me." She ignores the whole bedroom thing...knowing any words she said were just going to become more and more jumbled. "Get your hand off of me." She hisses, slapping it away from herself. They hadn't kissed yet, but these motions were frequent and not far between. "You want to know my innermost desire? To be as far away from you as I can, to not have to be at this stupid ball and gawked at like some pet at a zoo." She turns away from the people below them, crossing her arms. "You forget I am innocence. I can't just let go of it." 12:06 PM

Niklaus: "I have to disagree. I think part of you felt me there, love. And now that we're together, there's something more. A connection. You're more like me than you realize. So full of longing for power and control. And there's part of you that wants revenge, too, isn't there? Mostly, you want the world at your feet. But we'll start with the angels, won't we?" He smiled, more than a little possessed with excitement. His planning had been so careful, so secret for so long that to have it out in the open felt good. To confide in another felt good. Which was something he had never needed or wanted before. This was troubling. She had an effect on him that was unwanted. "Ah, but like you said, I'm very powerful. And here, this... this is my kingdom. Or it will be. Heaven cannot touch me or you while we're here. Consider us safe and sound from your last captors." He felt certain that there was truth in his words, that part of her desired him. But she was so sheltered from that, and so sure of what was required of herself as part of heaven. She wouldn't lower herself, in other words. Not unless he was very, very tempting. And that, Niklaus could be. "Fine," he spoke, temper flaring. "Go off by yourself, love. See what it gets you. But don't forget that point of this party... being who you really are. Is innocence really you? Just something to think on." 12:32 PM

Caroline Part of her steadfastly disagreed with his words. As far as wanting the world at her feet, she believed they had a right to happiness. To the glories heaven littered them with. Because in their flaws, humans were amazing. And revenge just wasn't a part of her. But she wanted that power, that control he spoke of. Control over herself, over who she could be. To decide if she wanted to be more than innocence, which he had so cleverly picked up on. The connection sparked between them constantly, a mix of fury and anger and...something more. "You forget you haven't succeeded in winning yet. Perhaps you've underestimated your father." Her eyes met his again, the girl glaring up at him. "But not from my captive now, it seems." She growls out at him, her fingers practically digging into her palms. She quickly moves away from him before he can say anything else, all eyes on her. It's an eery feeling, and she avoids the large crowd, instantly dipping into what seem to look like gardens. Somewhere quiet, somewhere away from his smoldering gaze constantly on her. 12:49 PM

Niklaus: "You can't deny it, can you? I see you struggling to, but it's there, in you, and you can't lie to me." He was satisfied with that. It gave him confidence that she would fall, that she would be his. His anger quickened when she mentioned Mikael, "Don't speak of what you don't understand. No-one knows my father better than me. I can see his grip on this kingdom fading. Less and less he comes to these parties, connects with our people. He has begun to see us all as... depraved. Can you imagine that? The king of hell, gone soft and maddened, isolated from his people? They will lose confidence in him. And I will rise and take everything from him." He watched her walk away, still glowering. There was something so entrancing about her, but equally she had the ability to infuriate him like no other. He would let her experience just what it was like to be in the midst of hell, with no one by her side. 12:57 PM

Caroline "I can. I believe humans deserve better than how you treat them, and revenge is a petty emotion to experience." But she couldn't deny the connection between them, which was the most frustrating part of it all. After all, she was from heaven. Lying wasn't in her bones. She takes angry steps towards him, eyes more fierce then she thinks they've ever been. "How can you want to do that to your own father? Destroy everything he's built up, and just because you're some angry, jealous, selfish little child? It seems you don't have any want to help those you call your kin, but to merely say you own them. And you expect me to want to be next to you in this fight. You're truly mad." Perhaps it was best she had disappeared into the gardens, away from him and the anger he brought about in her. Despite this being hell, the air outside is chilly, Caroline running her hands down her arms as she looks around. It's beautiful...but the devil's in the details. The roses seem to drip of blood, the cries can be heard from a distance, and she's positive if she were to touch anything, some fatal disease would capture her. 1:10 PM

Niklaus left the chat 2:07 PM

Stefan joined the chat 2:08 PM

Stefan joined the chat 2:11 PM

Stefan was standing around, as he often did at these events. To him, they were all a waste of time. Most of these people hated each other, and they all knew it. Perhaps it was because of his... past, but he thought it ridiculous. Niklaus, on the other hand, loved the performance of it all. As did his siblings and most of the other demons, whereas Stefan? Preferred to be alone. He wished he was now. The excitement tonight were the rumours milling around that Niklaus had captured an angel. Stefan wouldn't be surprised if Nik had managed it, only that he hadn't bragged about it to Stefan yet. He was conflicted between feeling sorry for the angel - an unpleasant remnant of his former life - or being pleased that he'd get to watch one of them suffer. It wouldn't be anything the lot of them didn't deserve... except one. Stefan's weakness still remained the same. Brushing off the pain that suddenly came over him, he took a sip of alcohol. It never dulled the pain, but it was a coping mechanism he clung to, 2:20 PM

Caroline She floated around the garden...but she was growing bored. Impatient as the night progressed, and it seemed Niklaus was having the time of her life. She walked back into the building...and instantly stopped. She wasn't supposed to see him again. To recount that time she had almost fallen from heaven, had come so close they had locked her up for the rest of her time there. But oddly...she didn't regret any of it. Before she knows what she's doing she's moving towards him, her hand reaching out to his shoulder. "Stefan..." The blonde whispers, before stepping in front of him. As long as Niklaus didn't see, he couldn't ask questions. Because god, she couldn't answer those questions. "I...I didn't know if you'd be here. Did you...did you know it was me?" 2:34 PM

Stefan hears a voice calling his name and stops still. That voice has haunted him for years. His neck flips around, feeling a small hand cover his shoulder. Not her. It can't be her. Not here. "Caroline," he chokes out in a hushed breath. Laying eyes on her for the first time in so many years makes him feel like he's no longer in hell. "You're... You're the angel?" He immediately regrets any thoughts he'd had about enjoying watching the angel in pain. Caroline doesn't deserve that, not at all. But of course it's her. It's so like Niklaus, to crave Innocence, to want to destroy it. Thinking of him hurting Caroline the way Stefan has seen him hurt so many people... it's torture. "No, you can't be here. You need to be safe. This can't be happening." His panic might draw attention to them and he can't let on who she is. No one knows yet - except Niklaus himself - but it would be open season on Caroline if the people - monsters - surrounding him knew the most protected, most precious angel in heaven was amongst them. Not even Niklaus could hold them back. "What the hell is he thinking? That bastard." Stefan mutters furiously, pulling her hand off his shoulder. He regrets losing the contact with her, but knows things are very, very different to when they made themselves belong to each other. 2:48 PM

Caroline She's never seen him panic like this, freak out as much as he is in this moment. Perhaps that's what hell does to people. Or perhaps he knows the true horrors hell has in store for her. "Stefan...calm down. Niklaus will here you, and there is no way we want him knowing, right?" She whispers, looking around the room. She can't see him in sight, and she sighs out in relief. She doesn't care about the consequences of touching him, though, and when he pulls her hand away, she just takes his hand, ushering him towards the garden. Once they make it outside she closes the doors, looking up at him. "Looks like I found the one good part of hell." She whispers, her hand running across his cheek. "He was thinking he wanted to take over hell. And I'm his ticket to that. He...he wants me to be his queen, Stefan." God, she couldn't tell him the rest. Even telling him that was too painful, too much for her as she took a step back. 

[illuminating-dragons]

Dreams and Visions (22/51): Ew

Time Period: BBC

Chapter Summary:  The Reichenbach conclusion. Warning for character death (though if you know me by now you'll probably guess it isn't someone anyone cares about.) pt.3 of Reichenbach Arc

Read it on AO3

Mike was driving as quickly as he could, Molly shouting in the backseat, switching between her phone and Sherlock's as she tried to coordinate with Mycroft and Greg. Sherlock sat motionless in the passenger seat, eyes fixed straight ahead. They were going to save John—no, he was going to save John. That was all there was to it.

John stared at Moriarty. He didn't put up his hands; there was no need. Moriarty knew he wouldn't move.

“How long have you known?” John asked, his face tense.

Moriarty chuckled. “Known about what? Your fuckbuddy's little plan to make me dance to his tune, to make me think I'd won then bang! Snatch the game away?”

John swallowed hard. The sun was coming up now, and he could see that they were alone on the rooftop. Not that that was really much help; his gun, after all, was in Moriarty's hand, and even his army training was unlikely to save him if he attacked Moriarty head on. Best to play along.

Moriarty sighed, looking almost gloomy. “I've known for about...oh, I'd say a month, now? Miss Donovan's an excellent spy. Tell her I'm trying to get rid of Sherlock and she's loyal as anything. I probably could have told her I was really Moriarty and not 'Rich Brook'...I doubt she would have cared.”

“And how did she know? We've never discussed it  in front of her.”

“No, but you did discuss it with Greg Lestrade. And at Scotland Yard, too. Dear me, Dr. Watson, dear me!”

John swallowed his nausea. It had been his idea to include Greg, his insistence that the DI was their friend and he deserved to know at least part of the plan. They'd told him late at night, near one in the morning. He had thought Donovan had left with Anderson. His mistake.

“Anyways, once I knew that, I decided to keep dancing!” Moriarty did a strange little hop-skip, the gun rock-steady in his hand. “Let you make your little plans—quite good, I must say. Though not quite as good as mine.”

“And what was yours?” John asked, squaring his shoulders even as his heart sank. He had a strange feeling he knew what was coming; the feeling that had pressed on him for months now, that they'd been missing something obvious.

“Well, what my plan has been from the beginning, Johnny!” Moriarty smiled brightly. “Come on, walk with me.”

He stepped forward and grabbed hold of John, yanking him by his bad shoulder towards the edge of the roof. Moriarty peered down; John did as well. There were a few people walking around even this early, and he briefly contemplated calling for help.

“Don't do it, John,” Moriarty whispered. “Why bother? You'll be down there soon enough.”

John tensed, yanking himself away from Moriarty. To his surprise, Moriarty let him do it, let John step away until they were several feet apart.

“So what? You're going to shoot me, and...throw me over? Seems a bit dull, for you. And messy.”

Moriarty laughed. “Oh pet, you being dead, Sherlock seeing you broken and bloody, that's certainly part of the final number. How's your precious detective going to deal when you're gone, hmm? I do think that'll destroy him—burn him out, as they say.”

John shuddered. That was it, that was the piece they hadn't considered. “It was me,” he whispered. “This whole time, you've been targeting me.”

“And he gets it!” Moriarty put the gun inside his coat and clapped. “Bravo, Johnny! I certainly did think about destroying Sherlock and having him kill himself—that would have been the worst ending for him, once upon a time. My first plan, you know, so I'm not surprised that Sherlock was able to deduce that.”  He took a step closer to John. “But you see it now, don't you? The pool, Miss Adler, even this whole Reichenbach affair—I was doing my best to make him suffer through you.”

“We weren't together from the start,” John whispered.

Moriarty shrugged. “It was inevitable, really. You crave danger, he craved an audience. Throw in a little UST—the Virgin learning how bodies worked, wish my cameras didn't break in your bedroom, I would have loved to see that! Two junkies choosing to fuck each other instead of fucking each other over, isn't that how your story has gone?”

Bile was coming up in John's throat. “I love him.”

“Oh, of course you do,” Moriarty crooned. “You do, and that's the best part! You'd do anything for him, and that's you're going to do now!”

“Kill myself?” John croaked.

“Well, yes, that's the idea.” Moriarty shrugged, his eyes going cold. “It's the personal touch, you see. Coming from me it would just be an act of war—this? This is an act of love, desperate, painful love! It will haunt him forever. I'm really going to enjoy watching that. Shame you won't see it.”

John shook his head. “No.”

Moriarty raised his eyebrow. “No?”

“No, you bastard. I won't leave him, not willingly. I promised.” John slipped into a fighting stance. “You want me dead? You kill me.” Maybe, just maybe he had a chance. If he could push Moriarty off the side…

Moriarty sighed. “I knew you were going to be difficult. Well, time to pull out the big guns.” Surprisingly, he didn’t take out his gun.

John raised his eyebrows. “Well?”

Moriarty giggled. "Oh, the big guns aren't here. Well, one of them's...somewhere around here, telling you exactly where would be cheating. There's one near Scotland Yard as well, and one just across from your flat. Big is a relative term, but I'd say they're guns you need to worry about."

John went cold. "What do you mean?"

"Well I had to have some kind of insurance, pet. To make sure you couldn't win no matter how lucky you got." Moriarty's eyes went dead, just for a flash of a second, and John flinched. "So here's how this works—if you don't jump, fine. You live. But your family dies."

The world went cold. "Sherlock."

Moriarty nodded. "He should be here soon; Donovan will have given into her guilt. But not just Sherlock."

"Mrs. Hudson. Greg."

"Yes." Moriarty smiled. "I really should have given you more credit, John. Really I should have; you're quite clever when you want to be. I suppose it doesn't really matter, though. You'd better jump."

John seized Moriarty by the lapels, holding him close to the edge, heart racing with panic. "And if I throw you off?"

Moriarty was infuriatingly calm for someone who was inches away from plummeting to their death. "What, you think my goons will stop shooting just because I'm dead? You've clearly never met Seb. The others are loyal enough to my cash—they'll finish the job. Doesn't matter, really. Would you really trade one for the other two?"

"Shut up!" John yanked Moriarty back, releasing him and beginning to pace. "What do you want?"

Moriarty sneered at him, all hilarity gone from his face. "I want you to suffer, John Watson. I want Sherlock Holmes to suffer. You let him think he could be happy with anyone other than me, and he believed it."

John recoiled. "You're in love with him?"

"I AM HIM!" Moriarty's howl split the morning quiet. "He is me, I am him—we're two freaks against the entire world, dancing in the same hellfire! He should never have thought about anyone else. But you, you were the player I didn't anticipate. The third wheel. We were supposed to destroy each other, Watson. Now I'll watch you destroy him."

The sound of a speeding car drew John's attention. Mike's old car was coming down the road. John's breath caught in his throat. When he turned back it was a second too late; Moriarty had the gun drawn now.

"Time to make a choice, Captain," Moriarty's voice was back to its regular sing song. "Your life, or your family's?"

John glared at the man, his eyes desperate with pain. His hands shook as he turned his back to Moriarty and walked towards the edge of the roof.

"There we are, good pet."

John glanced over his shoulder and watched Moriarty take out a phone. He tossed it to John, who caught it with nearly-numb fingers.

"Call him. Stop him from going inside."

John looked down; Sherlock had gotten out of the car and was running full tilt towards St. Bart's. Hands shaking John dialed Sherlock's number, watched as his lover stopped in his tracks and whipped out his phone.

"John!"

"Sherlock, stop moving!"

Sherlock looked around wildly. "Where are you, John?"

"Stay still!" John said urgently, his eyes flicking between Sherlock and the surrounding buildings, searching desperately for a sign of the sniper. If he could just protect Sherlock...there were a thousand words between them, a thousand memories that even Moriarty knew nothing for. Maybe he could find a way to warn him.

John felt the gun press into his back.

"I'm up on the roof," he whispered. He saw Sherlock look up, could almost make out the confused horror on his face.

"Moriarty?"

"Behind me," John replied, voice trying not to shake. "He has a gun."

"What does he want?"

"He wants me to jump. And he wants you to watch."

"No. No, John, don't! Moriarty, I swear to God!"

"How dull Sherlock, you actually believe in God! And here I thought your decay was only in the matter of the Doctor!" Moriarty was right at John's ear, almost crooning into the phone. "I'll shut up, though, this is supposed to be your and John's moment."

"John!" Sherlock's voice broke something in John; deeper than his heart, down into the very core of who he was. He never wanted Sherlock to sound like that, to feel that broken. He's going to feel that way all the time when you're gone, the voice in his head whispered knowingly, sounding horribly like his father. You never should have loved him, you never should have let him feel what happiness was if you were going to just let him down.

"Sherlock, I don't have a choice."

"Yes, you do! Fight, John, please!"

"I can't," John choked. "I can't, because he's got you."

"No he doesn't!"

"Yes he does," John whispered. "He has snipers."

Sherlock didn't answer for a moment.

"Me."

"Not just you."

“Mrs. Hudson."

"Not just her."

"Lestrade."

"Sherlock, you're all going to die if I don't." Moriarty was laughing softly in the ear without a phone pressed frantically against it, but John could barely hear him. “I can’t—dear, I can’t do that.”

“We’ll figure something out!”

“There’s no time, love,” John whispered. “And you know it.” With his last ounce of defiance, he pulled the phone away from his ear and turned to Moriarty with a glare. “Can you give us a moment, please?”

Moriarty backed off with a smirk. “Of course. Take all the time you need. Although my marksmen do have itchy trigger fingers…maybe not too long.” He walked until he stood ten feet from John, and then pointedly put his fingers in his ears.

Sherlock was gasping into the phone when John turned back to it, crying softly. John felt tears run down his own face as he looked down, shuddering. He was about to die. Not from a wound or a charge, but from stepping off a building. Falling. Hitting the ground in front of the man he loved. At least his death might spare the others from a bullet, but since when did Moriarty tell the truth?

Moriarty coughed loudly, and John snapped out of it. He didn’t have much time here. He had to make it count for Sherlock.

“Listen to me very carefully, dear,” he said, slowly and calmly. “This is not your fault. This is my choice, and if I could make another one I would, but I can’t, so please…try to forgive me? I love you so much, Sherlock.” John swallowed hard. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and loving you was the best adventure I’ve ever had. And I’m sure I’ll see you again someday, somewhere. Just remember that no matter what, as long as part of me exists I will love you, alright? Even if that’s only in your memories.”

 “John, please.” Sherlock was sobbing now. “Don’t go.”

John shook his head, not bothering to wipe his tears. “Give my love to everyone. Goodbye, Sherlock.”

He hung up; what was the point of going on? There’d never been enough time to say everything to Sherlock.

Tossing the phone away, John stepped up on the ledge. He was going to step forward looking straight ahead, back straight and head held high. Dying as a soldier, because even now he didn’t know how to die as a lover.

John closed his eyes, started to take a step—

And a shot rang out.

John’s eyes snapped open, stumbling backwards, heel catching on the ledge but wait, who was shooting?

He spun around just in time to see Moriarty fall to the ground, slumping over to reveal a disgusting hole in the back of his head. A tall man with pale blonde hair stood near the door, a gun raised. John stared back at him.

“Who are you?”

“MI6,” the man replied. “Formerly.”

“How did you—the snipers!”

“Taken care of while you were talking,” The man answered.

John’s head swam, and he stumbled.

The shooter stepped forward. “You need to get down, Dr. Watson. Sherlock Holmes must be worried. You don’t really need to worry about the details right now, do you?” His tone was considerate, but John didn’t move. If this was a trap…

The man sighed. “I was sent by an interested government party, who’s been keeping track of both Sherlock Holmes and you for some time now, worried for your safety. You’ve got some very avid readers, Dr. Watson.”

“Who?”

“Does it matter?” The other man shook his head. “Go down, Dr. Watson. It’s over, I swear.”

John considered him for a moment. “You saved my life,” he said hoarsely, “I think you can call me John.”

The shooter grinned. “James,” he replied.

John turned back to the street, where Sherlock was staring up. John gave him a thumbs up, and his heart broke again when Sherlock collapsed, dropping to his knees.

John whirled again, wanting to thank James, but to his surprise the man was already gone. He walked slowly towards the door, stopping only for a second to bend down and check Moriarty’s pulse. Gone. Done. It was strange to see the consulting criminal so still so…so human, despite his best efforts.

The next few moments were a blur, but John must have climbed down the stairs, for the next thing he knew he was running out of the front door of St. Bart’s and into Sherlock’s arms, being kissed, then shaken within an inch of his life, then kissed again, being crushed by Sherlock, ignoring explanations in favour of just holding on. They could do that, he realized in a daze, they could take their time, because there was the rest of their lives to say everything else. For now, the only thing John wanted to say was “I love you,” and he said it over and over again,  because that phone call had nearly been the last chance.

It was strangely, wonderfully perfect, then, that all Sherlock wanted to say back was “I love you, too.”