#you deserve to high five vane me thinks

[intotheelliwoods]

They can never catch a break... I think we need 2 weeks vacation time to recover from this one

[sayonarasanity]

windmill

this fic is based on the song Windmill by Lor (and I highly recommend you to listen to it while reading especially or later for it is an incredible song)

AO3

summary: Here is the thing about Levi, his heart is a windmill in the middle of a wilderness where there was no wind to make it twirl, there was no wind to make it beat, pound and feel. Just feel.

  Until one day he got hit by a storm so wild, so rare and so incredibly terrifying but in the most beautiful and breath-taking way that it left him defenceless, vulnerable and weak. Like a tiny little flower which had long passed its day of blossoming in a fierce, winter dawn yet it stood erect with its fragile body, challenging against the merciless winds and the brutal frost.

He fell in love.

Windmill, are you still afraid of nothing?

Here is the thing about human life, it isn’t everlasting.

But what is? The world and each and everything within it are mundane. The day is doomed with the night, the sun is doomed with the moon, life is doomed with death, men are doomed with gravity. If something starts, then it is fated to end. It is a vicious circle, living that is. Waking up only to sleep again at night. Earning money only to spend it an hour later on a trouser which you thought was necessary but maybe it wasn’t. Cooking for hours and hours just so you can eat it in mere ten minutes because your body needs food so that you can keep on living, living and living.

Like a windmill, turning, turning and turning to the day when there is not even a breeze to swirl you and you are frozen, unspoken and rigid. 

And here is the thing about Levi, his heart is a windmill in the middle of a wilderness where there was no wind to make it twirl, there was no wind to make it beat, pound and feel. Just feel. 

Until one day he got hit by a storm so wild, so rare and so incredibly terrifying but in the most beautiful and breath-taking way that it left him defenceless, vulnerable and weak. Like a tiny little flower which had long passed its day of blossoming in a fierce, winter dawn yet it stood erect with its fragile body, challenging against the merciless winds and the brutal frost.

He fell in love.

And he fell in love not like jumping to death from a high up building, piercing through the clouds. It wasn’t as quick as that. He fell in love as if he had jumped into a river. It was slow and it hurt during the process of acknowledging it. Like accepting the fact that you were dying. Yet, instead of fighting against it, he welcomed the embrace of the water like he welcomed his mother’s hold. He let the arms wrap around him firmly. Then gradually the snow cold changed to sunny warm and the heavy water he thought that choked him turned into fresh, light air. 

And he fell in love rather quietly, but he fell in love deep. Then his heart started to move and twirl with the wind. 

She was the whirlwind, and he was the windmill. She was wild, sturdy and destructive. When he waited motionless and steady for merely a breeze to touch his vane, she had brought him a storm. 

And he got carried away with it. 

“Why do you keep looking at that thing?” She asks one day when they are in his apartment and he stands in front of one of his shelves in the living room. 

“It’s a windmill,” he explains, taking his eyes away from the scale model of it to focus them on her. 

“I know that,” she says. The shelf is not that high, so she puts her hands on the edge of it and rests her chin on top of her hands. “I wonder if there is a specific meaning behind it.”

“Like what?”

She shrugs and blows, making the vanes of the windmill move slightly. “Like a memory or… a specific reason that only you know, but you don’t want anybody else to learn.”

He raises a brow. “Then why do you ask?”

“I am a curious one, you know,” she smirks. The afternoon sun highlights her eyes and plays with the colour of her short hair which ends just above her shoulders. Some strands of her brown hair shine a sweet red. It is tied slovenly behind with a little hairpin. “And I would like to learn about my boyfriend’s secrets.” 

Right, boyfriend. Apparently, by some miracle or a dice tossed by luck or during a single second in which God or whoever had a tiny pity on him or because of a good-hearted, gentle and humane ancestor of his she had loved him back. 

“There is no secret,” he looks back at the little maquette. There is really no secret behind it. He had made it himself about four or five years ago when he was still at college, studying architecture. It was just that with time it had gained a place more special and a meaning more solid and a presence heavier.

“Is that so?” she asks, raising her brows and smiling lips pressed, playfully. “Rest assured, I won’t get offended if it’s a gift from one of your earlier lovers.” 

“I don’t have earlier lovers,” he deadpans, glaring at her sideways. 

“What is it then?” She straightens and comes closer, dropping her chin on his shoulder. He spares a few seconds just staring at her inquisitive eyes, demanding answers. His heart beats calm, and he hears its pounds and feels its vibrations. Because of her…

Is the wind still your friend?

“I liken it to my heart,” he looks away, already regretting the words that left his mouth out of command.

There is a pause in the air and faint pink on his cheeks. “Oh,” she reacts at last.  

He cannot move his eyes to her this time, as the silence stretches like a furry, tired cat and it nerves him with each tick-tock he hears from the watch that is hung on the wall. It lasts so long that in the end, he shifts uncomfortably, and Hanji lifts her chin from his shoulder, her eyes, clouded and thoughtful behind her glasses, are focused on the windmill. 

“I see,” she says.

The next day she brings a propeller, almost the same size as the windmill and places it next to it. When she turns it on, the vanes of the scale model twirl slowly. 

Then she looks at Levi who is standing still and astonished. The wind howls in his ears, and his heart beats unsteady because it faces the same storm again. Vicious, wild and free.

And she smiles because she knows.

- 

Levi doesn’t exactly know or rather remember but they end up drunk as hell on one Saturday night. 

They are outside, stumbling together towards the coast road where benches are lined up side by side. The air smells like early summer, with newly blossoming flowers and salt. There is a full moon above the sea, and it reflects argent on the surface of the dark, tranquil water. People walk by every now and then and there are stray dogs and cats around. 

When they somehow manage to sit down on an empty bench, Hanji slips and puts her head on his lap facing the pitch-black sky. She giggles to herself as she watches the stars there are barely visible because of the city lights. “So pretty.”

“Hmm,” he approves, observing her relaxed features, coloured cheeks and the goofy grin on her face. 

“Hey, Hanji,” he rolls out of her tongue. He doesn’t even think or plan on what to say. The following words just stumble their ways out of his mouth. “You are—did you know that I couldn’t drink tea without some honey in it?”

She moves her eyes to his and giggles again, covering her mouth with her hand. “Yes, I realized.”

“Oh,” he blinks as if it’s enough to scatter the clouds in his head. But— whatever. It doesn’t matter now. When he has the stars and moon above, the sea ahead and the girl he loves lying on his lap. “Don’t tell anyone. Nobody knows.”

She nods and draws an invisible zip on her mouth. 

“You know why?” He pushes her glasses up her nose. “The reason why I can’t… drink it without honey?”

Hanji lifts her shoulders up. “Because it tastes like piss without it?”

“Yes.” He is a little surprised at her guessing it right. 

“But Levi,” she laughs. “How do you know what piss tastes like?”

“I don’t—I just know.” He closes her mouth with his hand when her laughter keeps interrupting his sentences. “Shut up, idiot. You are ruining the moment.”

To his surprise, she wraps her fingers around his wrist and kisses his palm. He breathes and his stomach moves as if he was in a car and suddenly rode down a hill. She closes her eyes tightly once to indicate that she is listening. 

“Okay,” he goes on. “So, I can’t drink tea without honey because it tastes like piss.” He inhales, despite his drunken haze. He probably won’t even remember—or will he? How drunk is he anyway? Oh, well. Doesn’t matter. 

“That’s… how my life would be.” Miracles happen. While sober he would rather die than utter these words out loud. Maybe it’s a good thing that he is tanked up. Because she deserves to learn. “Without you.”

Her are eyes wide open, and Levi thinks there are galaxies hidden in them. He doesn’t know if there is anything that is infinite or a life that would last forever. Does  forever  even exist? Does the sky have an end or space a beginning? Humans are such incapable creatures. Cannot go back a day before or has no idea what will happen a second later. Hanji is a human being, flesh, bone, blood and a little too much brain, a little too many feelings, and sentiments. And she is not indefinite, at all. But somehow, she makes him feel like she is. 

“Levi,” she says, pulling his hand away from her mouth. Her eyes are still big behind her glasses and her cheeks are even redder than before. “Does this mean you’re going to call me honey from now on?”

And somehow, she manages to annoy him with every goddamn chance she gets.

He frowns and pushes her shoulder, almost making her fall down the bench. She is bursting with laughter in seconds and wraps her arms around his waist to secure herself and buries her face in his abdomen.

“I’m breaking up with you,” he announces coldly.

“You cannot break up with me. We are drunk.”

“I can. I just did.”

“No,” she groans and presses her face deeper in his stomach. 

“Let go, you ungrateful woman.”

“I caaan’t,” she whimpers. “Levi I—” The rest of her words are muffled; he cannot pick up their meaning and form a logical sentence in his mind. 

“What?” He asks, bending his head down.

“I said, I loppffhhhppp…” 

“I don’t understand what you are saying, Hanji.” He puts his hand on her shoulder to push her back. He is convinced at this point that she is not forming legible words, intentionally.

Unexpectedly, she withdraws and puts her hands on his shoulders to lift herself up. Then leans in to rest her head right beside his neck, nuzzling his skin. “We should go back,” she murmurs. “My place is closer.”  

Levi has no idea what time it is when they miraculously manage to enter her house after a taxi drive which felt like years. They take unsteady and clumsy steps inside the house until Levi finds a door of which room, he is unaware of. He only looks for something to lay down on, then catches the sight of a couch with the limited light provided through the half-drawn curtains. He throws himself to it, without even bothering to take his jacket off. He only kicks his shoes out of his feet and tosses until he finds a comfortable position to sleep. 

Hanji gets into the room a few seconds later. Levi watches her with half-lidded eyes and sees that she has a blanket in her hands. He frowns. How the hell had she had enough wits in her head to think of a blanket? But sleep weighs down on him incredibly heavy and so very unusually that he is almost scared to make it run away. He doesn’t have the strength the utter proper words at the moment anyway. 

Hanji lies down on his chest, covering them with the blanket. He automatically wraps his arms around her as she presses her forehead on his neck. She whines. “I hope I don’t throw up during the night.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he mutters. The clean freak inside of him is alarmed and screams with worry and dismay. He has no voice though. Just a wide mouth open in a silent yell and eyes filled with apprehension. 

“Would you break up with me if I did?” Hanji asks, and he feels her smile in her sleepy voice.

A moment of consideration. “No.”

She huffs out a drowsy chuckle. “Levi,” she murmurs and sighs. “I love, love, love you.”

Are you still afraid of something? Is it you who command?

“Idiot,” he says affectionately. The vanes of the windmill twirl ever so rapidly, and he considers how weird it is for his heart to beat, pound and feel for somebody else, for her only. “I love, love, love you too.”

-

The subway moves swift through the night and they are alone inside the compartment at this hour of the day. Levi watches their reflection on the window when Hanji takes a few photos with her phone. Grinning from ear to ear while Levi has a dead, worn-out look rooted deeply in his eyes. Travelling around the city to visit historical places, museums and parks within just one single day was the worst idea he had ever agreed to. He barely had the energy to merely sit.

“Gonna post these on Instagram,” she twitters happily, swinging left and right. 

“Don’t forget to announce my funeral,” Levi murmurs. 

Hanji snorts and locking her phone she puts it back in her pocket. Then she shifts and lies her head on his lap, staring up at him. 

“Why do you always lie on my lap in public places?” He asks, looking down at her.

She shrugs. “I enjoy the view above.”

“Tch.” One corner of his lips quivers and he moves his gaze up, looking at the window across from him again. This time he realizes that there is heavy rain outside, the raindrops tap furiously against the glass. “Shit,” he swears tiredly. “It’s raining.”

She follows his gaze. There isn’t much before they reach their stop. They are going to soak to their goddamn underwears. It had been sunny the whole day. Curse his luck.

“Alas!” she sighs, but she doesn’t sound much concerned. “Levi,” she says then, and when their gazes are locked again, she beams at him. “Would you kiss me under the rain?” 

He blinks down at her first, his heart stammering hard against his ribcage. His eyes examine her features carefully. “Would you like me to?”

“Yes,” she breaths. “I’ve never done it before.”

“Me neither.”

“How do you think it would be?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I’ve never done it before.”

Her smile widens to display her straight, white teeth. “We should try it.”

“Maybe.” He watches her lips. They are a sweet shade of pink and they look maddeningly soft. And he wants to taste them so very desperately. 

“Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen to your chastity.”

His gaze travels up to her eyes. “I am sure.”

It is still pouring rain when they leave the subway. Hanji leads them through the streets, with her fingers around his. He licks the rain on his lips and squints to get a better view of her. He smells wet asphalt and trees and earth. The odour of the pine trees is evident despite the rain. The splashing drops bounce on the ground like they are dancing up and down, but they slow down until they stop under a streetlamp. 

“We should do it before the rain ends,” Hanji explains excitedly. As if what they were going to do wasn’t something basically everyone did but a life-changing, world-saving act of heroism. 

Her lips taste like rain and they are warm against his own. When her hands cling to the collars of his jacket, he cups her cheeks and tilts his head. Much to their unfortunate luck, the rain almost ceases, turns into a drizzle that barely had any function of wetting anything. She smiles, but Levi doesn’t pull back for a little longer. Holds her gently, keeps her close. 

Are you still afraid of the wind?

“Let’s dance,” she whispers against his lips. Her breath warm, her taste still on his tongue. 

“There is no song.” And the rain stopped already. 

She wraps an arm around his neck and holds one of his hands. He slides his other arm on her waist keeping up with her movements, while she   rests her forehead on his temple. “We don’t need a song.”

They start to move slowly, following the notes of a song that doesn’t exist. The wind is blowing still, quietly. If he listens carefully, he can hear the pitter patters of the water dropping down from the rooftops, and the soft sounds of the wheels of the cars rolling on the wet ground, a plane taking off, a man coming back from work, his rapid footsteps.  Tap, tap, tap.  And his heart, content like he is lying down on the grass, with breezes caressing his face, ruffling his hair ever so slightly. Watching how quietly the vanes turn on top of a hill.

Oh, windmill.

You’re a place where I can cry.

You’re a place where I can lie.

You’re a place where I can die. 

[greetthedawn]

AN:

I set out with the intention to write 6 chapters over 6 weeks. It turned into 16 chapters over 6 years.

I got Black Flag on my 17th birthday, and now at 23 it remains my favorite story, full stop. I'm ready to move onto other projects, but I know I'll come back to these characters in time. Never at this length or with this attention to detail, probably, but I'm pleased with what I've accomplished here.

At the risk of sounding Oscars speech-y, I want to thank you all for giving this story the support that kept me coming back to it time and time again. I'd also like to thank my college roomie who has been beta-reading and cheer-leading for me these past two years. I never would have finished this story in a vacuum.

I hope you enjoy this last chapter of Come With Me Now!

___________________________________________________

So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light

‘cause oh that gave me such a fright

but I will hold as long as you like

just promise me we’ll be all right

___________________________________________________

Edward's final act as governor of his own little cove was to finally affix a proper headstone to his late wife's false grave.

He had delayed the task longer than he had originally intended when he had buried the box of her letters just over a year earlier. This was in part because he had grown rather fond of the grave marker Mary had fashioned from an old stool seat. The carvings had held up quite well in that time and it had individuality to it. The time had come, however, to leave Caroline with a memorial that would last in the absence of his care.

The date was October 1723. Edward and Mary had tied up their loose threads in the West Indies. The Assassins had finished shifting their base of operations to Great Inagua. There were no longer any pressing matters keeping them tied to the Americas, and their agreed-upon year had come to an end. The day had come to sail for England.

Edward had truly pushed off this task until the last available moment. Their crew – what men who had chosen to leave with them – were at the docks preparing the Jackdaw for the departure. Mary was in the manor giving each room a last comb-over to ensure they hadn't forgotten any necessary or treasured belongings in their packing. Meanwhile, Kenway was elbow-deep in the dirt with a trowel.

When the hole was reasonably deep enough to hold it firm, Edward shifted the tablet stone away from the tree where it had been propped up and lowered the bottom third into the earth. With a huff, he sat back on his knees to admire his work.

He reached out to brush his fingers across the engraving and muttered, "Two years, I promised you. It turned into eleven, but I'm leaving now. I'm coming back, and I'll come to visit you when I get there. That's a promise I'll keep. I do that these days… I'll find your real resting place, and I'll sit with you whenever I'm in Bristol, just as I have here beneath this tree the past year." He pulled his fingers back from the lines that traced out her name. "I'll see you so soon."

When he had finished repacking the earth around the new headstone, he rose, dusted himself off, and tucked the stool seat under his arm. He made for the house, taking in his lovely garden for the last time as he went. He was satisfied, on Ah Tabai's word, that the false grave would remain in place for as long as the Brotherhood held the cove.

He entered the main hall of the manor and was struck, as he always was, by the grandeur. His eyes fell over every painting and trinket he and his men had won on their travels and brought back there to adorn the walls of their base with. Every trophy, every scuff on the woodwork, every empty bottle told a story of a sailor truly living. He had built something out of this room, something he was proud of. Each of his finest deeds had come together in some way to scaffold what this cove had become.

Beyond the memories he shared with his crew in that house, it had been the cradle where his relationship with Mary had found its legs. She had been at his side when they'd taken the cove, had led him to the manor through the tunnel she'd found in its bowels. It had been in the office where she'd first urged him to the aid of the Assassins, at the docks where she'd invited him to Tulum, and on the patio where they'd finally torn down their defenses and begun to stitch their hearts into one.

He imagined, perhaps, that giving over guardianship of this cove and all its memories to his Assassin brothers would be a small glimpse of what he might one day feel when Jennifer was grown and married and starting a new life with a partner of her own. I cared for her. I watched her grow. I gave her what I had, and she turned it into something greater than myself. She has been my life's great joy, and now I trust you to treasure her the same.

He gave a bittersweet sigh, trailing his fingers over the rough, paint-chipped grain of the back of his usual chair at the head of the long banquet table. He allowed himself five long breaths to imprint the room in his mind's eye. Then, he left through the door opposite the one he had come in.

His heart smiled when his eyes fell on his wife. Mary sat at a small, round table in the sunshine just outside the door. On its surface rested two cups, a bottle of rum, and the journal that held her research and communications on Precursor artifacts. Her hair was tied up in her disguise as James Kidd, but she held herself as Mary. She had an easy set to her shoulders and mouth that told him she was relaxed, present in the moment, unconcerned about who was looking or how she was perceived.

"You didn't nearly forget that was locked in my desk, did you?" he asked, pulling out a chair for himself and gesturing to her notebook.

She offered him a warm smile and poured a drink into the empty cup, sliding it across the table. "I rather had a mind to keep it under lock and key 'til we were ready to sail." She shrugged. "It's too valuable to leave unattended on deck. It's a good job it didn't slip my mind though." She nodded toward the wooden grave marker he'd leaned against the leg of the table. "You bringing that along?" Her tone was amused.

He nodded with a humble grin. "I found it strangely difficult to part with," he answered around the rim of his cup. "Much like this here cove." He gestured generally with his gaze at the grandeur of their surroundings. He imagined their accommodations in London, once they'd settled, would be spectacular. There, however, in Great Inagua, he was a king, and a beloved one at that. He wondered if his heart would ever be graced by that feeling again, to be a leader among men alike in mind and purpose. He hoped he would, in some capacity or another. For all he knew though, he was leaving it behind on the docks.

Mary thumbed the handle of her mug thoughtfully. "I feel like I'm parting with Nassau all over again, though I didn't know that's what I was doing the last time I was there. I didn't know that was a final goodbye, the way I do now."

Edward nodded in mournful agreement. "I think I did. When Vane and I broke through that blockade with his fireship, there was something final about it. Perhaps I might return to the island, I had thought at the time, but our Republic, the community we had built with Thatch and Hornigold and all the rest, that had died the very day Rogers brought the King's Navy to our shores."

She reached across the table to give a reassuring touch to his hand that was picking at the grain of the wood. "At least we know this community here will stand long after we've left it to our stern."

He gripped her hand tightly in return and cast his gaze out over the valley below. From where he sat, he could just barely see the crosstrees of the Jackdaw and the rooftops of the trim shanties and huts of the village. The air buzzed with life and opportunity. The morning was late, and the sun shone high over the liveliness of his dominion. Its warmth was reflected in the pride he carried in his heart; no longer pride for who he was, but rather for what he had helped create.

A short distance down the patio, Assassins and pirates drank together at a large table by the banister. Smiles and friendly jests seemed to waft among them like a gentle breeze. For an endless moment, the scene shifted in Edward's eyes to one he had always dreamed of making a reality, but which had never borne fruit: his fellow devils of the sea, all gathered amicably at his manor, sharing a bottle with not a care in mind.

He saw Stede Bonnet, all draped in merchant's finery and smiles. The portly old chap had carried such a heart for adventure and contempt for domesticity, though perhaps piracy had not been the optimal way for him to explore those sentiments. Such a kind-hearted man had not deserved to meet his maker at the hangman's noose. Edward prayed, wherever his widow and children were, that they were well and remembered Stede fondly.

At Bonnet's side sat Vane. As brash and uncorked as he'd always been, Edward had truly liked Charles and counted him as a friend. The man had had a clever eye for mischief and malfeasance that he expected would not find its parallel in their lifetimes. That was how he wanted to remember Vane, and that was how he envisioned him at that table. His eventual madness and betrayal were long forgiven and forgotten.

The counterbalance to Vane's cockiness that had thrown Edward's life expertly askew was Jack Rackham's wildness. A true beast with a bottle, he'd been, and there was little love lost between them. So many evils of past years had been set in motion by that catalyst of a man. Edward could forgive him for all but that which had cost Anne and Mary so dearly. That grudge was not yet ready to die. Despite it all, Calico Jack had been an influential figure in Nassau and Kenway's youth all the same, and they'd shared more than a few jovial pints in the golden days of their pirate republic. He appeared at the table in Edward's mind's eye with the rest, his cheek propped on his fist and a tipsy, peaceful grin on his face.

His feelings about Hornigold, seated across the table, were perhaps the most complicated he held for any of his old friends. None of the men he'd killed before or since had cursed him with as many sleepless nights. He respected Ben, truly, in spite of how things had ended up. The mentor to his mentor, he'd been a man of true esteem and poise. He'd always been searching for something bigger, something more meaningful than even Nassau could provide. They'd had that in common. Regrettably, however, Hornigold had found it in the Templars. Edward knew his friend believed he'd found the answer to poverty, disease, oppression, all of it, and that Torres had held the key to prosperity for every man. Perhaps there was some kernel, some seed of goodness to the world their Order sought to bring forth, but Kenway was equally convinced that no mortal man could hold such a powerful key and not be corrupted by it. It was that corruption that had led Benjamin to his end on Edward's blade, but as the Assassin reflected on the days the old man had spent carefully training him to command the respect of his crew and fear of his victims, he knew he would only remember Hornigold in fond terms.

At Ben's side, he pictured Anne. Sweet, sweet Anne, with flowers in her hair and a confidence in her manner that the most lush and arrogant man in their ranks could never hope to rival. She'd been a perplexing blend of crass and elegant that had brought joy to all who were blessed to have known her. In truth, her death had rattled him to his core because he had truly thought her invincible against all the particular evils these islands had to bear. She'd been an angel in a hellhole and had not earned her fate. Her loss had been the final, great failing of Edward's greed and hubris. If he was cursed to live in a world where her absence echoed so loudly, he would do his very best to honor her with his life.

Bernard Kenway had been an outstanding father, as they come, but Edward had been a less than exemplary son. For the boy that he had been when he'd reached the West Indies, however, Thatch had been the father he'd needed. He saw him then, sitting at the head of the table where he belonged, just as he had sat at the head of Nassau. Edward still felt his absence in every room of important people. When decisions were being made, plans being laid, he often found himself pausing to give space for the gruff words of wisdom that would never again come. Fuck this world and fuck its gold, Edward thought, remembering his mentor's final words. You were always a hero to your men, Thatch. He and everyone he'd known and loved in the past decade would be forgotten by history as scoundrels and traitors, he knew that, but Jenny and any siblings she might have would be raised on bedtime stories of Blackbeard, the most fearsome and admirable pirate who ever lived. If his descendants knew the name, that would be enough. Edward Thatch deserved a legacy.

Mary squeezed his hand lightly, jarring him out of his reverie. She gave him a sad, knowing smile. "The ghosts haunt you too, do they?"

He nodded, blinking against the stinging in his eyes. The men at the table morphed back into their brothers and crewmen. "In every tavern. At every party."

Her gaze was sorrowful and understanding. "Any place where men are drunk and merry." She raised her glass a little higher before bringing it to her lips, a small, private toast to those lost. "London society could never appreciate the pleasures of frivolity as they did."

He tapped his mug to hers. "Of the things we're leaving behind, I think I'll miss them most of all."

"You don't think they'll follow us to England?" Her tone was sad, but unsurprised.

"They belong here. If we'd died a handful of years back, we'd belong here too. Our memories will go where we do, but their spirits will remain in these jungles." He paused for a moment. "Perhaps one day we'll join them." He was almost hopeful they might.

Mary smirked. "If we live long enough to come back here, I doubt I'll want to live long enough to leave twice." She stood, pulling him to his feet by their linked hands. "But until then, we're needed a long way from here. Come on now. It's time we're off."

Edward picked up Caroline's makeshift headstone and Mary pocketed her not notebook. Leaving the bottle on the table behind, they descended the steps toward the gate that led to town. He stopped them there to turn back toward the manor for a final time. He pictured the ghosts at the table once more, imagining himself almost able to hear Anne's singsong voice and Thatch's wheezing laughter on the wind. It would have been a privilege to sail away with any one of them, but he was taking the one friend he truly had to have at his side. That would have to be enough for this lifetime.

He turned and kissed his wife, long and gentle. "The only place I'm needed is wherever you happen to be."

___________________________________________________ 

So lead me back

Turn south from that place

And close my eyes from my recent disgrace

‘Cause you know my call

We’ll share my all

Now children come

And they will hear me roar

___________________________________________________

A small crowd had gathered on the docks for their departure. Their crewmen were saying goodbye to their loved ones, having a last cup of rum with their friends, pleading with their favorite dancers to stay in their arms just a moment longer and cry a little when they left port. A number of them, Edward knew, had intent to return after a year or two, but none seemed to be able to resist the sentimentality and celebrity of such a departure.

He and Mary made a point to stop and shake the hand of each captain in their fleet as they pushed toward the Jackdaw. At the gangplank of their vessel, Ikal and Glenna were helping load the last crates of supplies. Glenna gave them polite smiles but moved out of their way without a word. It was as warm of farewell as Kenway had hoped to receive. Ikal, in contrast, passed off the crate in his arms to another sailor in order to address them. Edward placed the stool seat on top of it as the man passed him to board the ship, intending to collect it later once he had his crew settled on the open sea.

"I wouldn't worry about her, were I you," he said with a touch of affection and a smirk about his partner. "She bears you no ill will anymore, though I doubt your absence will be greatly noted."

"I would expect nothing more," Mary laughed. She pulled him into an amicable embrace. "I'm glad to part as friends, truly."

"I am, as well," he agreed, releasing her.

Edward offered his hand, which Ikal took without hesitation. "I can never repay you for the service you did our family in helping to find Jennifer."

Ikal smiled pleasantly. "No, I don't suppose you can." With a last nod to Mary, he followed Glenna down the docks.

Edward and Mary exchanged an amused glance and boarded their ship. He greatly doubted they'd ever hear from that pair again.

The deck was all a bustle of activity as final preparations were made for departure. Massey darted in front of them, doing his best to chase the black and white cat that hunted their rats down below deck where it would not get under foot. Jenny toddled over to them, awkwardly carrying the fluffy gray tabby that loved Mary so well. The animal was nearly as long as the girl was tall, and it hung limply with its forelegs stuck straight out ahead. Its expression was unsettled but it didn't make any effort to wriggle free of her grasp. Edward had never met such a tolerant animal, though he'd still rather have a dog. Cats might be better mousers on ships, but wouldn't do much in the way of protecting an estate, he expected.

"What a wonderful helper you are! Thank you for catching that kitty!" he praised his daughter. Mary scooped the cat up and Edward bundled Jenny into his arms.

"Uncle Muh-see not help!" she pointed out, clearly amused by her babysitter's lack of success. She was all smiles that morning.

"No, he's no help at all, is he?" he encouraged, nuzzling his nose against hers, making her scrunch up her face and giggle.

A frazzled Massey worked his way back toward them after securing the first cat below deck. Mary passed the other off to him and it leaned into his embrace eagerly. "I don't suppose you'd stay on as our governess when once we've established ourselves in England?" Mary chided warmly.

The lad gave a playful huff. "As it happens, I've secured employment already." The news clearly excited him. "Bell's sister was recently married to an horologist's son in the city, and the family was gracious enough to offer us positions at the shop. We'll mostly be running errands, delivering clocks and the like, but I'm hopeful the old man will teach us the trade one day." He cast their daughter an affectionate grin. "We'll cross paths at the London bureau though, I'm sure, and I imagine I'll call on you often. Any chance to see the little Lady Jenny." The girl clapped at the sound of her name. She reached out her arms for him and Edward passed her over.

"Well, we're glad you're coming with us all the same," Edward patted Massey on the back as he and Jenny made their way to the upper deck. The young sailor nodded to Adéwalé and Ah Tabai as they passed on the stairs.

"It's hard to believe you won't be here tomorrow," Adé greeted his old captain with a firm hug.

"I'm in as much disbelief about it as you are, mate," Edward breathed.

"Have you decided on a heading?" his friend asked.

"Bristol!" he declared. "I've got some business I need to settle there before I can truly begin my life anew. Once we've finished, we'll find somewhere to settle for good."

"If the wind ever carries you to England, you'll have a warm bed and a seat at our table," Mary assured him as they hugged as well. "You need only ask. Both of you."

"I do not think our kind would be welcomed in such a corner of the world," Ah Tabai sighed. "but there will always be a home for you and your family in these waters if you find yourselves dissatisfied with the stillness of high society."

She smiled warmly. "I doubt either of us will ever be truly still. We'll keep that close in mind, though." She turned to Adé again and procured the small notebook from her coat. She pressed it into his hands. "These are all the notes I have from my communications with our brothers in the colonies. I've written ahead for you, so they'll know of my departure by now. They're chasing some fascinating leads on Precursor sites at the moment. I expect you'll enjoy the work."

He took the notes with a grateful nod. "Perhaps we're due for a meeting, too. I would like to see more of the Americas before my days are done." He clasped Mary and Edward by the shoulders, like he had when marrying them. "My dear friends, you'll write when you've safely landed. Understood?"

They smiled and nodded, hugging him together once more.

Edward turned to Ah Tabai and they clasped forearms in farewell. "Mentor," he started. "I must thank you. You gave me a final chance to prove myself, and I hope I've done justice to the faith you placed in me."

Ah Tabai laughed and held up his hands. "I cannot accept your thanks. In truth, I had given up on you, Edward Kenway. It was Mary who forced my hand, and I cannot say I am sad to see that her instinct continues to prove fruitful." He bowed his head. "Safe travels. May you honor the Creed, and may it bring you honor." He left them then, and Adéwalé followed him off the ship.

Mary and Edward waved them off. "I must say, I'll dearly miss his gravitas," he laughed. She rolled her eyes with a small smile.

Around them, the bustle was beginning to quiet. Preparations were largely finished and those who were not leaving with them began to disembark. The two of them moved toward the starboard side so as not to stand in the way. Men said their fond goodbyes as they passed. Edward knew each by name and did his best to etch their faces into his memory. He glanced over at Mary and could see by the set of her face that the weight of their departure was setting in for her.

Her hand went to her belt, settling on the ruby hilt of the dagger he'd gifted her so long ago, Venganza. Revenge. She pulled it free, balancing the weight between her palms, and looked at him. After a quiet moment, she said, "I don't need this anymore…" The words lingered on her tongue, like she was coming to grips with them in that very moment.

He laid his hand over hers. The steel between their fingers chilled his skin. "Then don't bring it with you."

She nodded and pulled back. Her fingers wrapped naturally around the well-worn leather grip and she paused, indulging in the sensation of its weight in her hand for a moment. Then she turned on her heel and pitched the dagger over the side of the ship, far out into cove. It sliced quietly through the gentle waves and sank, taking pains of the past along with it.

He set a hand on her shoulder and she sighed, seeming to release a weight off her heart. She looked back at him and there was new light in her eyes. "I'm ready now."

He smiled and led the way to the helm.

Jenny had settled to the right of the wheel with a toy. Looking at her then, Edward could scarcely believe he'd ever worried he might not love her. She had so much Mary in her, and a spirit uniquely her own. Every small thing she did or said was a marvel to him.

He was, for a moment, plagued by self-doubt, as he was more occasionally than he would have liked. The Atlantic crossing was not an easy journey. The life that waited for them on the other side was hardly safe, either. His mind went back to his argument with Mary on the evening of their marriage. A choice, he reminded himself, that was their agreement. In spite of his concerns, he could never quite bring himself to feel guilty for taking her away from the safety of the family that had once adopted her. He knew that, had she stayed with them and grown up as Maria Reyes, she would have known nothing but the easy and proper life he wished for her. A small part of him did mourn that loss for her. At his core, though, he must admit that he was still too selfish to truly regret taking it away from her. She belonged with her mother, and with him. In that sense, paired against that alternative, a choice was a blessing. A choice was enough. He couldn't wait to see what she would someday do with it.

"Captain!" Bell called, interrupting Edward's thoughts. The young sailor came to join them, Massey on his tail. "The men are ready to depart. Would you like to take the helm today, or shall I?"

Edward waved him off. "If this is the last time we'll steer the Jack out of this port, I would prefer to do it myself."

"You two go help at the mainmast," Mary suggested. 'We'll handle things up here.

"As you command, Master Kidd," Bell nodded. The set of his mouth was eager, excited. "We'll wait for your call." The two lads descended to their posts.

Edward huffed and tentatively curled his fingers around the underside of one handle on the wheel. He glanced down to his right palm and the long, white scar that ran across the skin there. It was the one Mary had given him when he had attacked her in his desperate panic at the Assassin graveyard, thinking her a ghost. The memory seemed so far away, though the mark was among the more recent that adorned his body. He pulled his gaze away from the thin, pale line and onto his wife at his side as she lifted their daughter to her hip. Jenny grabbed at the beads in Mary's hair – twins to those he still wore on his necklace – making her smile and shake her head to toss them around for the toddler's amusement. She noticed his stare as she did so and paused, giving him a puzzled look. He smiled back at her and touched his hand to her shoulder in their familiar gesture of trust and reassurance.

"I'm ready now too."

With a grin, she clasped his shoulder in return and glanced out over the deck. "Ready, lads!" she called out. "Loose all! Let's catch the wind!"

___________________________________________________

And the ghosts that we knew will

Flicker from view

And we’ll live a long life

___________________________________________________ 

Song: Ghosts That We Knew - Mumford & Sons

[shadowedlamplight]

Lily’s Worst Memory

Fandom: Harry Potter Words: 3,034 Warnings: None that I can think of

I wrote this for a class and decided I’d post it. Snape’s Worst Memory from Lily’s perspective.

AO3 Link

Story under the cut

The Knockback Jinx, the Tongue-Tying Curse, any form of Verdimillious, though Tria would probably be best…

Lily tapped her quill against her desk, wracking her brains for spells she was certain she knew. She just needed to breathe and focus. She started counting on her fingers:

Knockback, Tongue-Tie, Ver, Duo, Tria… Rictusempra, might work… a well-placed Conjunctivitis Curse too, if–

“Five more minutes!”

Lily jumped at Professor Flitwick’s voice and glanced up at the large clock at the front of the hall. It read that there were five minutes left of the exam period, just as Flitwick had said. She cursed under her breath. Merlin, she hated timed essays. She took a slow, deep breath. She could do this.

If a witch or wizard is facing an opponent of greater magical skill than they, using simple spells to prevent their opponents from casting is best. Such spells may include the Knockback Jinx, the Tongue-Tying Curse, or the Conjunctivitis Curse. Other spells, such as Verdimillious or Rictusempra could work, but will do less to inhibit an opponent than those previously mentioned. In the case of such spells being blocked, however…

As Lily started putting the words to parchment, she found that the rest were ready to follow, and she wrote as quickly as she could without smearing the wet ink. Perhaps this essay wouldn’t turn out as terrible as she had feared. She only needed one or two more sentences to finish this paragraph, and then–

“Quills down, please!” Lily froze, her quill in the middle of a word, and closed her eyes. Damn. “That means you too, Stebbins! Please remain seated while I collect your parchment! Accio!” Lily set down her quill and watched forlornly as her exam flew to the front of the hall.

The rolls of parchment knocked Professor Flitwick to the floor and Lily snorted. From what Alice had told her it was not the first time it had happened, and Lily guessed that it would not be the last. She glanced in the direction of where she knew Severus sat, behind Adrian Vane, but he was absorbed in the question sheet, likely critiquing the questions rather than his own answers. She would find him later to ask how he had done—Severus was good company, but his frustration with professors’ expectations (low, in his opinion) got old rather quickly. Lily sighed softly and began tucking away her quills, parchment, and ink while Flitwick was brought back to his feet.

“Thank you . . . thank you. Very well, everybody, you’re free to go!”

Lily rose from her seat and slung her bag over her shoulder. She tried not to focus too much on the final question. It was only question, on one exam, and she still had her practical to make up points. This was not the end of the world! It just felt like it…

“Hey, Evans!”

Lily jumped half a foot in the air and turned, about to pull her wand on Potter and whatever flirtation or prank he had planned next, then scowled when she saw Marlene McKinnon’s laughing face and Potter nowhere to be found.

“Y-your face!” Marlene cackled. “Merlin, I’ve been waiting to do that, and you–” She broke off in another peal of laughter, almost doubling over.

Lily rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, walking again towards the Entrance Hall.

“Hey, wait, c’mon– Lily!” Lily couldn’t help smirking slightly at the sound of Marlene running to catch up to her; longer legs were a definite advantage. “Jeez, can’t you give a girl a break?” Marlene looped her arm through Lily’s and pushed her black bangs out of her eyes.

“Hm. I’m not quite sure you deserve one after that.”

“Oh please, it was funny. Besides, you have to admit, that was a good Potter impression, right?” Lily stared resolutely ahead. She wouldn’t give Marlene the satisfaction. “Right?” Marlene tugged a bit on her arm, but Lily ignored her still. “Right?” Marlene careened into her and the two of them nearly found themselves on the ground—Lily couldn’t help but laugh.

“All right, all right, yes! I thought it was him for a second.” Marlene made an exclamatory sound. “But only for a second!”

“A second still counts, Lily, my dear!”

Lily rolled her eyes again—but she was smiling now—and unhooked her arm from Marlene’s.

Marlene looked at her curiously. “Where are you off to?”

“The library. I want to just brush up on some of the spells that might come up in the–”

“Nope.”

“I– What?” Lily raised an eyebrow in Marlene’s direction. The other girl was staring back at her defiantly, hands on her hips.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said ‘Nope.’”

“I heard you, but I don’t–”

“You are not going back into that musty old library to study spells that you already know, that we all know you’re going to cast perfectly.”

“Don’t let Mr. Pennifold hear you calling his library musty.”

Marlene ignored her deflection. “Lily, come on! It’s still early, the sun is shining, the birds are singing–”

“Marlene, I really need to study.”

“You do not!” Marlene drew herself to her full height (which was not particularly high, all things considered) and looked Lily fiercely in the eye. “Lilian Evans–”

“It’s just Lily, you know that.”

“–I will not rest until you see the sun on this day!”

“Look, the sun is right there through that window. See, I've seen it, now– Marlene!”

Marlene was now dragging Lily by the hand through the Entrance Hall toward the main doors.

“You and I,” she said grandly, “are going down to the lake, and we’re going to see Dorcas, and you are going to relax—yes, I know!” She gasped when Lily made a sound of protest. “Relaxation, what is that? It’s been so long, you’ve forgotten. Well, not to worry, love, we’ll have you fixed up quick as a flash.”

Lily groaned, but Marlene was not to be argued with when she was this determined. Hopefully if Lily sat with them by the lake for a few minutes she would be able to sneak off and get some extra practice in.

When they met Dorcas, she was lying down by the lakeside with her eyes closed, practically sunbathing but for her robes, more than happy to ignore the rest of the world. As they approached, Lily glanced at Marlene, and to no great surprise she was grinning rather deviously. Lily stifled a smile.

“Are yo–” she started, but as quickly as she started speaking, Marlene had dropped her hand and was rushing toward Dorcas. Lily shook her head fondly and followed more slowly behind. Marlene ran up and dropped abruptly to her knees at Dorcas’ side, and Lily burst out laughing at what could only be described as a squawk from Dorcas.

“Horrid,” Dorcas spat as she sat up, glaring at Marlene and Lily in turn. Lily sat down on her other side. “Absolutely horrid, the both of you.”

“And what am I horrid for?” Lily asked in mock-indignation.

“You let it happen, didn’t you?”

Lily hummed. “Maybe I did.” Dorcas shoved her, and Lily laughed. “I’m sorry, Dorcas, but you’re so funny when you’re startled.”

Dorcas grumbled, even if Lily knew that she wasn’t really upset. “Yeah, sure, funny my ars–”

“It’s so hot out!” Marlene cut her off, and Lily had to cover her mouth with her hand lest she receive Dorcas’ glare as well. Marlene simply smiled in the face of it. Braver than an Auror, that one. “Can you believe it’s already June?”

“I certainly can’t,” Lily said, jumping on this new topic and trying not to giggle at the expression on Dorcas’ face.

“Come on, let’s cool off.” Marlene was already taking off her socks and shoes as she said it, and Dorcas and Lily quickly followed her example. The cool water of the lake was a shock to their sweaty feet, but it felt lovely in all the warmth. It wasn’t an oppressive heat, but Spring was certainly ending, and it was hot enough that Dorcas had tied her long blonde hair into a messy knot at the nape of her neck. Lily thought it was lovely. Perhaps Marlene had been right—she shouldn’t put so much stress on herself.

Lily told her so and Marlene grinned widely.

“You see? That big brain of yours needs to breathe every once in a while, Lils. You can’t just keep it stifled up in that castle or you’ll go bonkers.”

Lily snorted. “Maybe,” she said, “but I could never get to be as bonkers as you.”

“Oh really?” Marlene asked, suddenly haughty. For all that she liked to tease them, Marlene could learn to take a bit of her own medicine.

“Oh yeah, she’s right,” Dorcas said seriously. Marlene turned to her. “You’re certifiably mad, got the report from the Healer myself.”

“You–” Marlene started, but she was drowned out briefly by the sound of loud laughter behind them. The three girls turned around to see that something of a crowd had formed closer to the castle.

Dorcas groaned. “What in hell is going on now?” She flopped back on the grass. “Does there always have to be something going on? Can’t we exist for an hour without some other sort of drama? Half an hour at least!”

Lily didn’t disagree with her that there was a lot of drama, but it kept things interesting at the least. Something to focus on other than classes and the bitter cold that plagued the castle for much of the year.

Marlene craned her neck to see between the students that made up the slowly growing crowd. Whatever it was, it seemed to be entertaining.

“Looks like it’s just Black and Potter up to their usual nonsense.” Lily made a disinterested noise. Scratch that entertainment idea, the crowd must simply be drawn by their stupidity. “And… oh.”

“What?” Lily looked curiously at Marlene. She wasn’t a gossip per say, but Marlene was always interested in what had caught their classmates’ attention.

“Nothing, it’s just…” Lily stared at her. She seemed reluctant to say. Marlene grimaced. “It looks like they’re pestering Snape again.”

Lily’s eyes went wide. “Sev’s up there?” She scrambled to get her feet under her and pulled out her wand. Fury was swelling in her like a hot air balloon. Who did those… those arseholes think they were?!

Marlene looked quickly between the scene and Lily, biting her lip. “Lily, maybe you shouldn’t…”

Lily paid her no mind though, and she saw Dorcas waving Marlene off from the corner of her eye. “Let her go. It’s not like you’d stop her.”

She wasn’t wrong. Lily had already crossed half the distance to the crowd. She was close enough now that she could see Severus on the ground, spitting up some pink substance, and Potter, Black, and Pettigrew looming over him like vultures. Lily grit her teeth and increased her speed.

“Leave him ALONE!”

Potter and Black immediately looked around, Potter already mussing up his stupid hair. Lily was coming right for him and the few people who were in her way moved quickly out of it.

“All right, Evans?” Potter asked pleasantly, as though he weren’t torturing her best friend in front of their entire year.

“Leave him alone,” Lily repeated, aiming for calm. Potter only ever seemed encouraged when she was angry at him. “What’s he done to you?”

“Well,” Potter said—slowly, as though he were actually thinking, “it’s more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean…”

Her classmates laughed, especially Black and Pettigrew, but Lily only glared more fiercely, eyes narrowed.

“You think you’re funny,” she said coldly. “But you’re just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone.”

“I will if you go out with me, Evans,” Potter said quickly. “Go on… Go out with me, and I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again.”

A wave of disgust rolled through Lily, and it took all she could not to spit in his face. How could anyone stand to be around him?

“I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid,” she said firmly.

“Bad luck, Prongs,” said Black, as he had so many times before, and he turned swiftly, wand out. “OY!”

Lily turned just in time to see that Severus had broken out of whatever jinx Potter had placed to hex him back, drawing blood. It might have even been one he had made up himself. He hadn’t shown her all of them, but she knew he was always thinking, always coming up with ways to improve their spells—or to harm, as had been the case since he started spending time with Mulciber and his lot.

Potter responded just as quickly, and in a moment and a flash of light, Severus was hanging upside down by his ankle, and his robes fell over his head, Sev’s legs and underwear hanging out for the world to see. Everyone around her laughed.

Lily almost, almost smiled, only because that spell was a particular favorite of hers to see—but not when it was done this cruelly. She schooled her expression.

“Let him down!”

“Certainly,” Potter said, and with a quick jerk, Severus had fallen back on the ground.

Severus worked to get to his feet, held his wand aloft, but the moment he was off the ground Black hit him with the Body-Bind Curse, and he had fallen again.

Lily saw red. She drew her wand on them. “LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

Potter and Black looked warily at her wand. The only time they showed her any sort of respect, it seemed, was when she had them at wandpoint.

“Ah, Evans, don’t make me hex you.” Potter seemed to mean it, too. As if. But at least it would give her an edge.

“Take the curse off him, then!”

Potter sighed—much like a child who’d had his dessert privileges taken away—and quietly muttered the countercurse in Snape’s direction.

“There you go,” Potter said mockingly, as Snape struggled to stand. “You’re lucky Evans was here, Snivellus–”

“I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!”

Lily blinked, staring frozen at Severus. Had he really…?

“Fine,” she said coolly. “I won’t bother in future. And I’d wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus.” She blinked again, more rapidly, but she wouldn’t react in public. She should have known, from the way he’d been acting–

“Apologize to Evans!” Potter screamed, and Lily was so done with stupid boys and their stupid egos.

“I don’t want you to make him apologize,” she shouted, turning on him. “You’re as bad as he is…”

“What?” Potter asked, and he seemed truly startled by her reaction, idiot that he was. “I’d NEVER call you a—you-know-what!”

“Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you’ve just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can–” Lily shook her head in disgust– “I’m surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK.”

She turned sharply around and started briskly away from them—all of them.

“Evans!” Potter shouted behind her. “Hey, EVANS!”

Lily refused to turn around, refused to give him the satisfaction, and soon enough he’d stopped calling after her.

She hurried back to their spot on the lake and grabbed her shoes and socks, almost falling over in her haste to put them on.

“Lily?” said a quiet voice. Lily looked up and both Dorcas and Marlene were looking at her, their faces drawn. By the expressions on their faces she knew that they had heard. She looked down again. Dorcas continued, “Are you–”

“I’m going to find a classroom,” Lily said swiftly, still not looking at them. She fumbled once, twice with the laces of her shoes before she’d tied them. “To work in, that is. I still need–” Her voice wavered for a moment and she paused before trying again. “I still need to practice the spells for the practical exam, and I’d rather do it inside.”

“Do you… want some company?” Marlene asked tentatively.

“No, I think I’d really rather be alone,” Lily said. She looked up briefly to smile without humor, and the look on Marlene’s face made her ache. She averted her gaze again. How many times had they told her that Sev was no good? How many times had they tried to convince her to stay away from him, the same as she had warned him away from Avery and Mulciber. She should have expected this. Marlene and Dorcas clearly had.

“All right… If you’re certain…” Marlene said. Lily didn’t bother meeting their eyes again. She didn’t think she would be able to bear it. She started stuffing the few things she had pulled out back into her bag

“I am. I really am, thank you, girls, but I’m fine.” She gave that little smile again and felt her eyes burn at the corners. Lily steeled herself. Not until she was safe within the castle walls where no one else would see. She didn’t know which was worse, the shame or the hurt. At this point they seemed to have melded together.

“Okay…” Marlene said softly.

“Should we come find you before the exam?” Dorcas asked.

Lily shook her head firmly. “No, I’ll– I’ll meet you in the Great Hall. Wouldn’t want you to be late, trying to look for me. I’ll be all right.”

“Okay…”

Lily straightened up and placed her bag her shoulder. She smiled tightly at Dorcas and Marlene. “See you two at the practical, all right?”

“All right,” Marlene said.

“We’re here if you need anything,” Dorcas said pointedly.

Lily nodded stiffly and turned around, walking swiftly toward the castle. She took the long way around just to avoid Potter and his little crowd. Besides, this way was quieter, more peaceful. And, if she had to wipe at her face for any reason, well, there was no one there to see it.

[theolddarkmachine]

12 Days of ODM: Day 8

Dedicated to: My Sheith Anon

Prompt: Winged AU where Shiro has a prosthetic wing and Keith comforts him

AO3

Shiro’s kindness helped Keith open up, finally allowing himself to accept someone into his life without fear that they would leave while Keith’s temperamental personality acted as a shield against the jealous eyes that would rake over Shiro’s wings.

Don’t listen to them, Keith would growl as a group would walk by, shooting his own acid filled glare at them as he wrapped a protective arm around Shiro’s shoulders as if he could keep their undeserving gazes away with his body. His own wings were a muted grey, the same color of the sky after a rainstorm.

The color of your eyes, Keith had once laughed as he’d tapped a finger on the tip of Shiro’s nose.

Ah man, Sheith anon, I wish I knew who you were so I could thank you for this prompt. It was FANTASTIC. Liiiiike wowie wow. It was one of the last ones I got but the first I finished, literally all in the car on the way to a football game because it just took me over. It was awesome. So I hope you see this and you think so too! Merry Christmas!

*******************

Soft feathers whispered over Shiro’s cheek, their down a caress over the sharp crest of bone that he refused to acknowledge was slick with tears. His eyes were shut to the plumes of his wing, biting his teeth into his bottom lip in order to feel anything other than the deep ache that had eaten deep into his right shoulder blade. Once, both his wings had been pure white, glowing with their celestial magic that wove traces of gold through their vanes. He remembered how the higher angels used to whisper about how his wings were unlike any they’d seen.

He’s truly been touched by the Light, they’d say behind cupped hands and through clenched teeth. When he was younger, he’d never understood the way their voices hissed and twisted, only hearing the words they said. It wasn’t until he was a teenager that he began to hear the jealousy that turned the sentiments sour. Envious disdain glinted in their eyes as they dragged their gazes over the wings that had been as white as the snow they were used to conjure.

There was only one gaze he ever found solace in, its crushed velvet orbs sparkling with swirling galaxies that lit up whenever they looked at him. That gaze never hid anything behind masks of false kindnesses, only ever offering open honesty in the form of awe.

When Shiro had met the purple eyed boy named Keith, they had just been five years old. The former had grown up at the monastery, while the latter had just been brought by the high angels with nothing but a chip on his shoulder and a temper most said befitted a demon. At the time, he hadn’t been sure as to why he’d wanted to pursue friendship with the dark haired cherub that glared at anyone that dared come too close. Mostly, he thought he felt bad for the new angel who was nothing but large mauve eyes, fluffy grey wings and an angry pout.

Everyone needs a friend, was his reasoning when he’d asked Keith if he wanted to play with him, offering a soft hand and a carved wooden toy. It hadn’t been until much later that Shiro realized the thing that had pulled him towards Keith was their shared predicaments. Black sheep recognized black sheep when they were amongst a herd of white. No one knew why he was the only person Keith let in, but they remained inseparable after that, and hey quickly fell into a friendship so close that they became referred to as a paired set.

Shiro and Keith.

Keith and Shiro.

Shiro’s kindness helped Keith open up, finally allowing himself to accept someone into his life without fear that they would leave while Keith’s temperamental personality acted as a shield against the jealous eyes that would rake over Shiro’s wings.

Don’t listen to them, Keith would growl as a group would walk by, shooting his own acid filled glare at them as he wrapped a protective arm around Shiro’s shoulders as if he could keep their undeserving gazes away with his body. His own wings were a muted grey, the same color of the sky after a rainstorm.

The color of your eyes, Keith had once laughed as he’d tapped a finger on the tip of Shiro’s nose.

Keith was everything Shiro wasn’t. Dark where he was light; lean where he was thick; angry where he’d been kind. Where the other angels had looked at Shiro with envy, they’d looked at Keith with disdain, making both outcasts of their own kind. It proved to be a blessing, as the duo was left to naturally pair together when they were old enough to finally go out for the Snow Fall. Each year the angels of the monastery flew through the skies on Christmas Eve to conjure the Christmas snow that the humans would wake up to. That first Snow Fall only proved their combined talents for the magic that filled the air with the crystal flurries. It was said by the high angels that that year had been the most successful they’d had in years.

They’d celebrated with their first kiss that tasted of triumph and sweet snow, ignoring how it had only narrowed the eyes of their fellow angels that had already envied them.

Sighing deeply against the memory, Shiro clenched his already closed eyelids as if dropping further into their darkness would push away the phantom glares and once pristine wings.

If he opened his eyes now, he’d be met by the shocking white of his left wing, and the now synthetic inky black of his right. It looked as unnatural as it felt, and the bone it was anchored to with pins and screws always ached with the hollowness of the loss of its natural wing. The darkness of the artificial feathers that taunted him at the edge of his vision was a constant reminder of the accident he only wished to forget.

He could hear the way the sky had screamed almost as if it was still howling in his ears. It was a sound that haunted his dreams, filled with so much rage and envy it had turned the calm snowfall of the Christmas Eve into a blizzard. His only thought at the time had been to wrap his arms around Keith to protect him from the stabbing shards of ice that were slicing into their skin. He’d thrown every ounce of his power into a prayer that would protect the man in his arms, only stopping when the knife like stab of pain had torn through the muscle of his back as the vicious wind and ice ripped him apart. Keith’s voice screaming his name had been the last thing he’d remembered as they’d hurtled down to the ground below.

When he’d woken, he’d been met with red rimmed eyes and a crushing hug. Keith had explained that one of the angels had been overtaken by his jealousy, losing control of his power and throwing the anger he’d felt into a storm that had torn his wing from his shoulder blades.

He got what he deserved, Keith had said, pushing his words through thick anger and teeth. Not that it had mattered. Even though he’d received his punishment, he’d already done his damage. Now Shiro was left with an obsidian reminder that lurked behind him like a cursed shadow.

That had been three years ago, and though he had completed the physical therapy and was allowed to fly again, he still couldn’t go out for the Snow Fall.

Not just couldn’t, but wouldn’t.

Though the prosthetic felt every bit as natural as the wing before it, it was artificial and no longer held the power to create the flurries he’d so loved to make. The realization of it had cut him deeper than the wound, and every year on Christmas Eve, he felt the deep longing to take to the sky and create the flakes that would fill the humans with joy. It was the kind of ache that settled deep within bones as if the very marrow within them were trying to peel them apart from the inside out.

The soft sound of the door to his and Keith’s room broke him of his self pitying reverie, drawing his attention instead to the soft padding of feet against marble before the bed dipped with a new weight. Warmth heated his skin as he felt his lover carefully work his way between the wings that had shrouded him, stopping only once he too was encapsulated within their soft feathers. Breath tickled over his collarbone, Keith not even saying anything at all as he wrapped an arm around Shiro’s waist and pulled himself closer. The scent of sandalwood and lavender filled his senses, momentarily pushing back all else as he got lost in everything Keith was.

“Aren’t you supposed to be out with the others?” His muttered into the crown of his best friend’s hair, eyes still shut to the outside world. Each year, Keith had said he’d stay behind with Shiro and every year he insisted Keith go. They both didn’t need to miss out on the Snow Fall. His companion nuzzled his nose against the sharp crest of his collar before his lips ghosted against his skin, igniting a line of fire under their touch.

“Something more important came up,” Keith said, his tone nonchalant as he continued to pepper kisses over Shiro’s skin.

“More important than the Snow Fall?” He deadpanned, fighting against the swelling in his chest that was filling the space between them with electricity. The question earned him a low hum that vibrated through the air of their feathered cocoon.

“Much more important.” Soft pressure at the base of his throat made Shiro bite back a groan, head spinning as he tried to remember how to speak. It was wrong for Keith to still be there, sitting on the sidelines because he could no longer participate. It wasn’t fair to him, no matter how much he enjoyed the feeling of his body pressed against his own.

“Keith, I told you not to worry about me. I’m fine.” The lie was sour on the tip of his tongue. After having said it so often, he would have thought he’d at least become accustomed to the taste. Keith’s sigh rolled like a wave over his pulse. Quiet fell over them, filled with nothing but their breathing as they both waited for his response.

“Go on a flight with me,” he finally said. The words were so sudden, so unexpected that Shiro felt himself tense in the half halo of Keith’s arm. His palm flattened against his lower back as if it meant to steady him.

“I’m not—” He started, not even sure what he had been about to say before Keith cut him off.

“You haven’t flown with me since,” his voice faltered, fumbling over the hushed words. Taking a breath, he started again. “You haven’t flown with me since it happened.” Time slowed, stretching over the darkened room as they lay in silence.

“Please, Takashi.” Only Keith used his true name, whispering it into darkness as his fingers clutched their sheets and during moments of complete vulnerability. The sound of it on his lips was Shiro’s favorite melody, the hard beginning fading into a soft ending as if it was filled with silk and cashmere. When he said it, Shiro knew he wouldn’t be able to deny him anything.

Pulling his wings inward and against his back, exposing their bodies to the cooler air of the room, he finally opened his eyes and turned his smoke gaze onto the man pressed into his chest. An amethyst galaxy lay before him, inviting and wanting and suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to get lost amongst the stars.

“Alright,” he heard himself breathe. “Let’s go for a flight.”

***

The halls of the monastery were eerily quiet, the angels that normally roamed them all absent as they’d gone out for Snow Fall. Normally Keith would appreciate the silence and lack of others to interact with, but now the weight of the quiet was unsettling as he led Shiro through the marbled halls towards the stairs that would take them up to the roof. Christmas Eve had been hard ever since the accident. Shiro had tried to hide the cracks that formed in his armor each year as the date drew near, masking it behind false niceties and well wishes for the others Snow Fall. It may have worked on everyone else, but Keith wasn’t just anyone else, and he could see the muted silver of his eyes and the way the corners of his mouth just barely pulled down. Every year for the past three, he’d humored his best friend, still going out to conjure the snow that would bring so many happiness. But it was hard to try and create happiness for others when the source of his own had been left behind to rip himself apart.

He hadn’t actually known what exactly he had planned to do until the words had left his mouth, startling them both.

Go on a flight with me.

It was such a simple request, one that should normally have been easy to grant. Before losing his wing, Shiro and Keith hardly spent any time out of the skies. It was peaceful up there away from everyone else and their envious gazes; away from their angelic duties; away from everything that wasn’t them and the clouds.

Since the accident, Shiro had grounded himself, only flying at the request of the doctors that had repaired the torn wing and only for the minimum amount of time. Keith knew enough about the prognosis to know that his best friend had very little chance of conjuring snow again, but there was no reason for him to lose both things he’d loved.

Chilled air swirled around them as he pushed the door to the roof open, holding it wide for his companion before he let it fall back shut. Before them stretched a quartz rooftop and above them the jeweled darkness of the open sky. It was the kind of night they used to spend flying as high as they could in an attempt to see if they could catch a star.

“It’s a nice night,” Shiro said, voice cautiously void of the many emotions flitting through the storm hue of his eyes.

Pain.

Worry.

Fear.

Longing.

The final emotion screamed the loudest, the iridescent shimmer of his desire to be in the sky overwhelming all else. Keith’s hand found his as he laced their fingers together and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s the perfect night for a flight,” he said with a smile. Carefully unfurling his own wings, Keith slowly began to beat them, their span pushing the air around them in a tepid whirlwind that blew the strands of Shiro’s white bangs over the bridge of his nose. A small smile tugged at the corner of his companion’s mouth as the velvet air danced over his skin.

“Are you ready?” Keith asked, his feet already pulling away from the ground as he started to rise into the air with the lazy beats of his wings. The fingers within his grasp gave a small pulse of acknowledgement before they slipped from his as he rose too high above Shiro to maintain his hold. A small resigned sigh was the only answer Keith received before he watched as his best friend unfurled his wings.

His ascent was shaky, cream and onyx beating around him as Shiro made his way into the star flecked sky. Keith watched him with a softness around his eyes, coasting in the air above and waiting for his lover to reach the same altitude. A chill began to pick up in the air, running goosebumps over his skin with a fusion cold and thrill.

The loss of his wing had caused Shiro to become withdrawn, folding in on himself like a flower that had been starved of the sun. Though he’d never explicitly said it, Keith knew the loss had weighed heavy on him. When the storm had ripped away his right wing, it had taken his pride with it and left him a halved individual. It was crueler than if he’d lost them both, the one a constant reminder of what had been. Even though years had passed, Keith still heard the whispers that drawled around them as the other angels walked by with shaking heads. It took everything he had to keep his fury locked behind just a glare. They’d always envied him for his wings and now that one was gone they tried to pretend they didn’t harbor a small flame of satisfaction deep within their supposedly pure hearts that Shiro no longer held the Light’s favor.

Gaze flickering over his companion as he rose in the air, he couldn’t help but scoff as the thought. They were fools to think he had lost any of the beauty and benevolence that encompassed everything Shiro was when his wing had been taken. The way the starlight glowed against his lily petal skin was proof enough of that. Air stilled in his chest as a silver gaze flickered upwards to meet his amethyst one through the stark white of Shiro’s bangs. He’d known him almost his entire life and yet his best friend never ceased to steal the breath directly from his lungs.

“You alright?” He asked, voice pitched low as if speaking too loudly would break the spell that had been cast over the star filled sky. A soft sheen of sweat slicked his companion’s forehead with the exertion. It didn’t stop the smile that crinkled the corners of the storm filled eyes.

“I’ll live,” Shiro replied, voice a shade close to breathless. His eyes roamed from Keith’s face as he looked upwards to the constellations that stretched out above them, a serene silence settling over them as he took it in. “I forgot how beautiful it was up here.”

Keith couldn’t stop himself from brushing the pads of his fingers up the long line of his best friend’s jaw, stopping only once they reached the shaved edge of hair behind his ear. Heat filled his palm as Shiro leveled his head to push his cheek into the touch. Flame licked steel warmed the skin over Keith’s cheeks.

“You belong in the sky, Shiro.” Up against the backdrop of black, with stars in his hair and Polaris shining down on him, he truly looked every bit the snow angel he was born to be. Maybe the others couldn’t stand to see him there, but the only one of them that truly belonged in the celestial skies, was Shiro.

As electricity and heat started to crackle in the space between them, the same way it always had, a single snow flurry dropped onto the back of Keith’s hand.

Melting into his skin, another sparkling flake fell onto his hand, followed promptly by another. They were large and fluffy, glimmering as they danced around them as if

welcoming old friends. White crystals buried themselves in Shiro’s hair, dotting it with shimmering diamonds before they melted away. In their wake they left a long forgotten gleam in the gray of his eyes as his companion’s smile stretched further over his lips. Snow continued to fall around them, accumulating on the roof below and creating a thick blanket of white. It was the kind of snow most angels only dreamed of creating. The kind that filled the air with joyous squeals as people woke on Christmas morning to see the wonderland that welcomed them.

It was the kind of ethereal, near supernatural, snowfall that was filled with so much love it could melt even the hardest of hearts.

Keith and Shiro both watched the way the flurries flirted across the sky in silent awe. It was the latter that finally broke the quiet, voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you.” Moisture glinted over the soft grey stare as he pulled Keith into his chest. Soft lips pressed into the waves just above his ear as he whispered his thanks over and over. Wrapping his arms around Shiro’s waist and fisting his hands into the fabric of his shirt, Keith nuzzled his nose into the skin at his neck as he pressed a kiss to the collarbone that peeked over its hem. His smile tickled against the skin.

“I didn’t do this, Shiro.” He pulled back enough so he could look up at his best friend, grin filled with stars and eyes dancing with mirth. A beat passed as he let Keith’s words settle over him, expression flickering comically between confusion, thought and finally, pure unadulterated joy.

Keith knew if he could drag his eyes away from the glowing man before him long enough to look at the wings that kept him in the air, he’d see the way snow twisted and glistened over the feathers. He’d see the silver that ran through the vanes, tinging them with the metallic shine of frost. Lips crushing against his own stole his chance to look as Shiro closed the space between them. It tasted of sweet mint and the Christmas chill as Keith parted his lips to inhale his companion like smoke. His tongue licking behind his teeth dragged a moan from deep in Keith’s throat that Shiro captured in his mouth as they pushed into each other. Keith sunk his teeth into the fullness of his lover’s bottom lip, pulling it ever so slightly as he leant away from the contact, mouth kissed pink and laughter on his tongue.

“Blessed be thy snow,” Keith said, his voice breathless as he spoke the prayer. Shiro brushed his nose against Keith’s as he dropped his forehead against his.

“May the Light shine upon you,” Shiro finished the words with a smile.

The snow continued to fall around them as they embraced, lost in each other and the sparkling flurries of Shiro’s Christmas miracle.

*