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sisterlelianas · 3 years

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another life (oh, if only you knew)

ao3 link

this is a “small” (🤡) one-shot where our lady alcina dimitrescu meets the woman who ends up being her future lover for the first time before she’s turned into a vampire. they meet again, centuries later and are both unprepared to face each other, in their own way. In other words: they are gay ❤️ + someone tell these two fools how to navigate their feelings for each other, PLEASE

word count: 10.810 words (yeah, i know)

author’s notes: a huge chunk of this was written before i played the game, meaning most of it (including things regarding Heisenberg’s powers, etc) is not canon compliant, still, i feel like going against canon is a good thing for us, anyway. y’all know what i mean. SO! this one-shot is actually really close to my heart. alcina and the girls live in my head absolutely rent free and i don’t even mind. hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it

p.s. this is the first fic that i have ever posted and written. blame it on our milf

Big, social gatherings were useful in their own, distinct way. Meeting counts, their wives, the countesses... the secret lovers of those same counts, which everyone, but the wives, were aware of... there were plenty of those. Never a dull moment, truly. Attending a party your dear, darling husband organised, however, was a different story. Alcina Dimitrescu was not the kind of woman to be more than glad to step back from her role and allow a man to take the reigns for her, to allow him to play the part of the head of the house. She oftentimes found herself wishing for his... mysterious disappearance. He could even flat out drop dead - she was not picky.

The overwhelming noise of constant blabbering from her guests was beginning to irritate her, though. Meaningless social affairs were most definitely beneath the Countess - hiding the frown that would frequently settle on the corners of her mouth, after a particularly loud cackle from one of the men, by sipping some wine seemed to be turning into a recurring move for the woman. Everywhere she looked all she could see was uninteresting people playing a part. Acting as if they were all happy to be there. What else was new? The same faces carrying out the same conversations. The worst part was that her husband had the most... particular taste in friends. They were all male, of course, and so incredibly stupid and dull. The kind you look at and just know they won’t be saying anything insightful throughout the entire affair. Men, the Countess mused. What else could you expect from such limited beings? The mere thought of them making her frown deeper, her lips pursing slightly for what seemed like a millisecond.

Her husband was fuelled by attention - seemed to thrive off it, actually. She turned to look at him from the red, bergère chair she was sitting on and observed his behaviour from afar. One hand was in his pocket, the other holding a golden goblet filled to the brim with red wine. The contents of it would often spill and fall to the floor whenever he would give a hearty laugh or swing his arms around to better illustrate whatever dull-witted point he was trying to make. The goblet was filled to the brim no longer and his cheeks were rosy, meaning he was far from being sober, at that point. It was only a matter of time before she had to step in and chastise him for acting like a fool whose goal seemed to be disgracing House Dimitrescu, something the Countess would never turn a blind eye to. She held on to her own goblet of wine tighter, then. Luckily, it was not made of glass, or it would have shattered.

She exhaled harshly from her nose, once, before a charming, almost musical laugh broke her reverie. She had to keep herself from snapping her head to the side to look at where the sound had come from, making her movements slow and precise instead, so as to not draw attention to herself or her newfound curiosity. Well, well. Now that was a pleasant sight. The sound had come from a woman. An extremely beautiful one, at that. Her hair was brown, braided most elegantly, and complemented her features in a way that was almost indescribable. The warm lighting of the ballroom they were in altered it’s hue, reminding the other woman of free, autumn leaves, drifting gracefully in the wind. The Countess wondered how long the woman’s hair would be if she were to free it from the pins that were holding it in place.

Her dress was red, cut somewhat generously at the front. Bold, for the gathering she was attending, though it certainly made a statement, it would seem. The frame fitting, silken dress appeared to draw the attention of several men, who, of course, barely even bothered to make eye contact with the woman whenever they spoke to her. This made Alcina’s lips curl down momentarily in disgust. Men could truly be such dogs, she thought.

The brown haired woman captured the attention of every person around her whenever she’d speak, although the smile she wore did not reach her hazel coloured eyes - it had a subtle, mechanical look to it - and her posture was slightly too stiff, as if she studied every move before actually moving. Her smile, her demeanour... it was all clearly forced, but only those who were paying very close attention could see through her mask. The woman’s eyes then shifted downwards when she sipped her wine. She felt a pair of eyes on her - sort of like how you feel when roaming around in a haunted house, you don’t see anything, yet feel everything, only this time, the feeling was more than welcomed. Drifting her eyes upwards, she finally met the Countess’s gaze. Almost like a magnet. How intriguing. She was, indeed, hauntingly beautiful, the mysterious woman thought.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, in a way that was almost too cliché. The brunette half-hoped she could relive the moment all over again. She could not look away. They both couldn’t.

The woman’s lips were still hidden behind the glass of wine, but her eyes told the Countess all she needed to know. They stared at each other for what seemed like centuries and every second of it was absolutely delicious - the brunette didn’t shy away from Alcina’s prying eyes at all, she seemed to revel in the fact that she was the one the Countess was looking at - her chest puffed slightly, her head tilting upwards a bit, and when she finally removed the goblet from her face she had an almost missable smirk painting her soft, red lips, making one of Alcina’s eyebrows arch slightly. Ah, at this rate, the things you could see just by looking into another person’s eyes was almost criminal.

Their staring contest was, much to Alcina’s chagrin, broken when a particularly loud and obnoxious laugh came from her husband. The fool was probably trying to charm one of his guests for the umpteenth time that evening. Having had enough, she stood up at once and took long strides towards him so as to not allow him to embarrass himself, or, rather, her, any further. The room didn’t fall silent, but several people spoke in a hushed tone as they watched the Countess walk towards the opposite side of the room. The way she moved was almost hypnotic - the skirts of her dress shifted delicately, her face completely still, not betraying any emotions, not a hair on her head out of place. It was almost as if she was floating.

“Beloved,” the sound of her voice evoked an immediate reaction out of her husband, who quickly turned to face her, visibly sputtering, and out of several other people near them. Heads literally turned.

Everyone knew who was at the helm of House Dimitrescu, it didn’t matter how many parties her husband attempted to throw or how many Counts he tried to butter up. There was only one, and it was not him. It was her. He knew this. She knew this. Everyone did, and playing the part of the good, perfect, respectable wife was beginning to wear the woman down in a way that was borderline dangerous, at that point. Men are technically allowed to rule sometimes, unfortunately. This was not one of those times.

“My dearest wife-“ her husband started, slurring his words slightly. She immediately cut him off by grasping his arm in a way that told him to stop talking, but also looked relatively loving to whoever was watching, “A word,” she was not asking, she was telling.

The brown haired woman, who had previously captured the Countess’s attention, watched as the couple walked, with their arms linked, towards a secluded part of their castle. She noticed how the black haired woman nodded curtly towards her guests as she walked past them, not wanting to be a poor host despite being displeased with her husband’s behaviour. Brown eyes took in the other woman’s.... figure as she walked away. A sight to behold, as she had initially guessed. Her dress hugged all her curves in the most mouthwatering way. It was almost too difficult for one to tear their eyes from her.

In the meantime, the party was simply not the same when she was absent. Like an ever-present energy, not a soul in that room could look at the Countess and mistake her for a person who could go unnoticed. Even if she wasn’t in the room physically, everything had her name written all over it. It was hers. It was all hers.

——

Several moments passed before the Countess and her husband decided to grace the party with their presence once more, still, the brunette immediately took note of it and watched as the other woman navigated the room confidently to greet some of her other guests, never once breaking into a full smile, however. Maybe they just hadn’t earned it.

If she wanted to greet her and leave a lasting impression, before having to leave the party, it had to be now.

——

“— they are positively dreadful. I cannot bear the sight of them. The man calls himself a painter yet cannot seem to find within himself the ability to paint properly!” a man loudly said, some of the guests laughing along with him. Others at him. Alcina’s facial expression, on the other hand, remained completely neutral with no signs of her cracking a smile anytime soon. The man noticed and, unfortunately for him, made an attempt to mansplain art to the Lady of the House. The group fell silent, uncomfortably so, as the man waited on Alcina to grace him with a response. It did not seem like he was getting one.

“You are out of your depth, Constantin,” Alcina immediately recognised the lilting voice, looked over her left shoulder and towards the sound. It was her. The phrase was voiced with a hint of playfulness so as to not humiliate the man any further, “Our host knows more about the wonders of the arts than you ever will.” She was standing directly beside Alcina now, yet seemingly refused to meet her gaze, choosing not to break eye contact with the man who dared question the Lady’s knowledge instead.

“In fact,” she inhaled through her nose, pursed her lips - allowing a hint of contempt to escape her for a fleeting moment - and clasped her hands at her front, “I believe we are all uncultured, empty-headed people in comparison, no? Some more than others”, she gave the man a pointed look, making the people around her chuckle in consensual agreement. That’s when she finally turned her head to face the other woman, whose gaze had been boring holes into her head as soon as she had decided to stand beside her. That’s when the brunette noticed that no one else was near the Countess, but all directly in front of her. It was as if she had stepped onto the woman’s stage. The realisation made her bow her head humbly before turning her body to fully face her, “I don’t believe we’ve met, my Countess”, she extended her hand, “Angela Drăculea, I have been meaning to make your acquaintance for awhile, now”.

This time, her smile had reached her eyes, which were now half-lidded. The laugh lines that formed charmingly around them only seemed to become more noticeable once Alcina took her hand in her own and hummed in acknowledgement, “I don’t believe our husbands have met”, she stated matter of factly.

“I beg your pardon?” the other woman said. They were still holding each other’s hands, the feeling sending shivers down Angela’s spine - she even seemed to draw nearer when the Countess spoke, which did not go unnoticed. Like a sailor being charmed by a siren, completely unaware of the perils surrounding such action. Alcina’s gaze refused to leave her own. It soon became intoxicating.

“He would have introduced us by now,” her calming voice said, before finally dropping the other woman’s hand, “Unless you come here uninvited and are a trespasser,” once again, it was not posed as an inquiry, it was as if she was throwing statements at the other woman, gauging her reaction to them.

The brunette squinted her eyes without dropping her endearing smile, “Our husbands have not met, no.” she squared her shoulders, then, and allowed her gaze to drift downwards, towards the Countess’s necklace, though she doubted that that’s what the other woman was really looking at, “I am afraid I have no husband to introduce in the first place,” she playfully said, giving her a knowing smile and looking into her eyes once more. Angela was good at matching other people’s energy. If they teased, she would tease back. If they taunted, she would follow. If they threatened...

A hint of a smile ghosted Alcina’s lips, “Is that so?”

The atmosphere changed around them almost immediately. Some of the guests even squirmed uncomfortably whilst watching the verbal exchange unfold. It was not a normal conversation by any means. The brunette seemed to be speaking to the Countess for a particular reason. Alcina, on the other hand, was testing her. Watching her. Studying her, in a way that was not totally uncomfortable but also let the other woman know that she was not to be taken for a fool. Even so, their audience didn’t seem to bother this so-called ‘Angela’, Alcina noted. If anything, it only seemed to encourage her. Interesting, she thought.

The woman gave a smile, that was absolutely sinful, and bit down on her bottom lip for a split second. The woman opened her mouth to say something before placing her, now empty, goblet of wine on a round, silver platter one of the servants, who walked past her, was holding, “Indeed,”

“Rather unusual, wouldn’t you say?”, her tone lost all signs of amusement, then, and her expression turned almost sour. The sudden change of heart caught the brunette off guard, but unfortunately to Alcina, she was quick-witted and would not back down easily.

“Some would say so, yes,” her chin tilted upwards almost imperceptibly. She couldn’t stand taller than the other woman even if she tried, however. They were about the same height, Angela was slightly shorter, but the way the Lady of the House carried herself made her look taller than any other person in that room, almost incomprehensibly so, “Some would even go as far as to question my womanhood. Be that as it may... it is not how I see it.”

Alcina’s nostrils flared for a brief second, she had a feeling that the woman before her was about to cross a line that should never be crossed. Not with her. It was as if she was pushing all her buttons just to see if she could. A mistake. Nevertheless, she pressed on, “How do you see it?”, she glowered, daring her to speak her mind.

Angela didn’t look the tiniest bit regretful. It drove Alcina mad. She was a lady, therefore making a scene was absolutely out of the question, but Gods be damned, if the woman in front of her didn’t stay in line—

“Complete and utter freedom.” she cooed. The last thing Alcina expected was for the woman to bend at the waist, then, seemingly choosing to remove herself from the conversation now before it ended poorly, and moved to hold the Countess’s hand in her own once more. She paused, allowing Alcina to remove her hand from her grasp. When that didn’t come, she looked up from under her lashes, not moving from the position she was in, and placed a deliberate kiss on her hand, feeling it tense up under her touch.

Once they stood at eye level, the first thing Angela observed was the Lady’s facial expression. First, her eyes flashed dangerously. Then, her jaw clenched. But then, and much to the brunettes dismay, Alcina’s face went blank. All terrible signs, when one is making an attempt at courtship, really. No matter though, because the last thing Angela noticed before finally moving away from the Countess were her eyes. One’s body always betrays them, it would seem, for the woman’s pupils were blown and only one word was written all over her face. Desire.

“In another life, perhaps?” was all the infuriating woman said, a soft smile on her face, before finally moving away, turning her back on the Lady and disappearing into the crowd. She left just as the Countess’s husband decided to join in on the conversation he had just missed. Whatever it was that he said, it earned him a hissed out reply from his wife.

———————————————

“My decision is final, there will be no argument. Remember from whence you came,” was all the priestess had to say for the room to settle down, “Unless any of you provide me with a reason as to why our plan should change, I advise you all spare me your childish, petty squabbles”. Her voice was cold and left no room for disagreement. Heisenberg looked at his sister, his chest puffed and a ridiculously smug grin on his face. There was nothing more she wanted to do at that moment than wipe it off his face. With his hammer, perhaps.

He had always been an irksome man, yet became even more so after his transformation. Alcina was thankful for the fact that she did not have to deal with his presence on a daily basis. He was like an annoying smell you simply could not get rid of and having to deal with familial issues even after your death felt like a poor joke. He did not respect her. She would have to change that.

“Thank you, Mother Miranda,” he patronisingly said, bowing to his sister mockingly, “you will not be disappointed”. There was his wolffish grin again. Alcina tsked and moved to stand behind her seat once more. Losing Ethan Winters did not irritate her too much - she did not care for the man nor for his safety - the fact that she was losing him to her brother, of all people, however... Now, that was a different story. It seemed that, even in death, men attempted to reach for things that were not theirs to claim. She knew her brother. His irresponsible nature would end up getting the best of him and she would have to clean up his mess. That’s how it always went. She and her daughters would’ve killed the mortal so much quicker.

He turned to face the man in shackles then, opened his arms wide and began, loudly, “Lycans and gentlemen, we thank you for waiting! And, now, let the games beg—“

He would have finished his speech if he had not been rudely interrupted by the sound of the doors, leading to the old, dilapidated chapel, slamming against the walls, a woman standing on the threshold. She was wearing all black garments, which were softly swaying in the cold, winter breeze, her face fully shadowed and hidden both by her hood and some kind of plain, black material covering the lower half of her face. Not a single hint of skin in sight. Her ensamble was not poor or dirty in the slightest. It was perhaps a bit hard on the eyes, but one could tell it was carefully handpicked by its wearer. Clothes do make others perceive you differently, after all. Whatever it was that she was trying to achieve by dressing in such fashion, it seemed that she had succeeded.

Her posture was straight and one of her, gloved, hands was holding on to some kind of satchel. Everyone in the room was surprised by the sudden interruption, including the mortal, who was now making pathetic attempts to uncomfortably turn and face whatever new threat he would have to deal with later. Everyone looked as if the woman was trespassing. Everyone but the priestess.

“You have decided to join us after all, I see,” her tone was far from welcoming. It almost sounded as if she was reprimanding the woman, not just for interrupting their meeting, but for showing up at all, “Do you come bearing news?”, once again, her tone was flat, giving away the impression of utter disinterest and boredom.

Heisenberg was leaning against his hammer and pinching the bridge of his nose with his right hand, probably wondering when he was going to be allowed to play with his food. Alcina, on the other hand, was watching this woman, who had not yet made a sound, carefully. It was almost like they had been interrupted by a ghost. A ghost they were not meant to see. She took the other woman in once more, noticing how she was, surprisingly, not as short as the others around her. Still not as tall as the Countess, but definitely much taller than her brother, for instance. How interesting.

“My suspicions were correct,” that voice.... where could she have heard it before? Lady Dimitrescu stood taller then, her eyes widening for a split second and her lips forming a thin line before she could keep her facial expressions under check. It could not be, could it? After all those years?

“You took your precious time,” Miranda critiqued, “what have you learned?”, the room was dead silent, save for a few lycans who were growling lowly at the new guest. All eyes were set on this newcomer, which, interestingly enough, seemed to upset her. Her hand had left her satchel and was now gripping her black cloak, as if she was trying to wrap it around herself even tighter. Only one other person in the room kept most of her body covered - Donna, the head of House Benenviento, but even she was a poor example. One woman was a... grieving daughter, the other was not.

“Our enemy, our true enemy, is one Chris Redfield. He plans to strike from the shadows once we are all too exhausted to retaliate.” Her voice was being somewhat muffled by the material covering her face, but it was clear enough that no one needed to listen closely to understand what she was saying. Even if she looked utterly uncomfortable, her posture did not give that away at all. She stood tall. Proud. She did not cower or shift closer to the shadows, no matter how badly she wanted to. In all honesty, it was not a poor effort, but there was one person who could see right through her.

“And you know this how, exactly?” Heisenberg drawled. Moving away from his hammer and sliding his glasses down the bridge of his nose just to take a better look at the woman.

“He is here. In your village. Roaming around your property. Studying you. Something that is only happening because you were much too busy hunting down this stupid, useless man for sport,” the woman snapped, yet kept the volume of her voice relatively low and her tone neutral, clearly not entertained by the man’s behaviour. Her eyes gave out this orange glow with a red tint to it - they flashed whenever Heisenberg tried to address her. Some curses become a blessing though, because the man’s infuriating demeanour made the woman let go of her cloak, her posture straightening once more, but not out of discomfort this time.

“Careful, Angela,” the priestess warned, cutting their argument short, “know your place.” it was posed as a warning, not a threat, but, frankly, Angela had been roaming the Earth for far too long, now, and standing down was not something she was inclined to do. Ever.

“With all due respect, my Priestess, my place is something I am excruciating and painfully aware of.” Angela spat out, her tone making Alcina’s lips curl upwards in acknowledgement for a brief moment. That did sound like the woman she had met on that dreadful party all those years ago. Though she was, obviously, not the same as she once was... in more ways than one.

The room fell silent for the umpteenth time that day and remained that way for a few, uncomfortable seconds. Angela’s chest rose and fell steadily, her eyes never leaving the priestess’s. The awkward, tense moment was broken when the House Beneviento puppet, Angie, coughed once, followed by a small, meek “.... sorry...”. This was going to be a long day.

“I just want my daughter—“ general grumbles of annoyance and a loud ‘shut the fuck up’ came from the people around him. Well. Maybe that would have to come later.

“You cannot be suggesting we let this man go?” the word was practically spat out, which was definitely in character for Lady Dimitrescu, “For once, I agree with my sister,” was what Heisenberg said, earning him a disgusted look from the Countess.

“Maybe I have not made myself clear,” Angela turned to face Alcina for the first time in literal centuries, then. The taller woman wished she could see her face, her fingers twitched momentarily at the thought. Still, she refused to let any kind of emotion seep through her mask, opting to pretend to be completely unfazed by their conversation instead.

The other woman did not seem particularly glad to see her, which sent an uncomfortable feeling through the lady vampire’s chest. This kind of behaviour was not to be rewarded.

.... Surely she had not forgotten her?

“I suggest we move our efforts towards a more fruitful endeavour, such as doing away with the man who wants to eradicate us. It is entirely up to you, however,” her eyes scanned the taller woman’s face. Looking at her eyes, her hair, the laugh lines around her mouth and, then, settling on her lips before looking away entirely.

It was strange, seeing her like this. Her fiery personality was, of course, still there, but before the Countess stood a woman who was merely a shell of who she used to be. She had often thought about the woman who had boldly courted her for all to see. Wondered if she had lived a full life. Happy and free, as she was. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. She looked utterly miserable now, which was a clear indication of just how consensual the experiments that were inflicted upon her were. There they stood. What had once separated them centuries ago seemed to separate them now. One was still a caged animal, struggling to get free.

A pang of something hit Alcina’s chest. That was definitely not a feeling she welcomed with open arms. Some things are meant to be secured under lock and key. Never to be brought up, not once. This was one of those things.

The woman bowed her head slightly, a sign of respect towards the Countess. Having seen that, Heisenberg made a disgusted sound, immediately destroying whatever moment they were about to have.

“Fine. If this one goes, I want the other one,” he turned towards Miranda, “It is only fair,” the smug smile returning to his face.

The Houses argued amongst each other whilst Angela stood on the sidelines watching it all unfold. The dynamic between them seemed about what you’d expect from a bunch of dysfunctional monsters whose Mother was hellbent on calling them a family, though it was borderline comical most of the time. Angela pursed her lips and looked away from the scene with disinterest, her gaze landing on the mortal, instead. Funnily enough, he looked more confused than frightened, which almost made the woman’s lips curl up in amusement. His expression was understandable.

She was pulled away from her thoughts when Alcina threw a particularly petty insult at her brother, her eyes flashing dangerously and her booming voice carrying throughout the entire building. Even after centuries having passed, she remained the most strikingly powerful and beautiful woman Angela had ever seen. She took her time observing her then - the way the veins on her neck became more noticeable when she began raising her voice; the way her nose scrunched up in disgust whenever her brother tried to speak to her; the way she scoffed and waved her hand at him dismissively whenever he made another stupid comment. Even so, she remained positively regal throughout the entire verbal exchange. Angela wished for nothing more than to be a painter, at that exact moment, so she could immortalise the Countess as she saw her. Gazing upon her this freely almost felt like a privilege.

If only she could go back in time, she would have taken her away from that blasted party and her stupid husband and kept her all to herself, though she doubts the Countess would have let her.

Sighing in relief when Miranda put an end to their fighting for the second time that morning, Angela awaited her orders. She could spend the rest of her days admiring the taller woman, the screaming, on the other hand, was beginning to wear her down. That was when the priestess finally made her decision. Ethan Winters was no longer a priority, though he should not be allowed to leave the village as of yet. This earned her several shouts of protest from the man, who ended up being taken away by two of Miranda’s helpers.

“Do not stray from the village, Angela. I need you here,” Miranda commanded, “Alcina, take her with you. You are to await further instructions,” her wings fluttered as she spoke. Her demeanour calm, as always.

Heisenberg’s mouth opened, but before he could say anything, Angela interjected, “Very well. I will find my own way to the Castle,” and with that, she abruptly turned and walked confidently towards the exit. She needed to get out of there as soon as possible. The amount of eyes on her were making her skin crawl.

“She’s going to walk there?”, Heisenberg scrutinised, glaring at the woman as she left. His sister didn’t seem to be paying attention to what he had said, seemingly lost in thought, which was definitely uncharacteristic of her.

“Heisenberg...,” the priestess warned. The conversation was over.

Having realised his mistake, he raised his hands up in defeat, though his eyebrows were still snapped together, either in confusion or irritation.

——-

Angela could technically use her powers to get to the Castle in the blink of an eye, yet saw fit to do the exact opposite of that. Call it stubbornness or whatever else you wish - she saw her powers as entirely unnatural. Animalistic, even. There was not one thing about her transformation that she had come to terms with over the decades. There was no encore, there was no sense of accomplishment. It didn’t make her feel more powerful. No, there was only blood, sweat and tears. That’s all there ever was. No need to romanticise it. You couldn’t, even if you tried.

She looked up, trying to take in the Castle in all its glory. She wondered what the Countess had done to her husband once she was turned, the thought making her purse her lips in amusement. She didn’t seem particularly fond of the man, so her best guess was that he died an excruciating death. Whether or not he deserved it was not up to her to decide. She got exactly what she wanted, in the end. She was officially the Head of the House, no man holding her back and keeping her from achieving her fullest potential. Good. She deserved it. She deserved all of it.

Yet... facing her now, after all that had transpired? Gods forgive her. She didn’t know if she could take it.

She walked steadily towards the main entrance, her fist hovering over the flat surface of the door before finally giving it three, strong knocks. The doors were opened by two, frail looking maids who immediately stepped to the side to let her in. Choosing not to give it much thought, Angela walked through the threshold and looked around. It all looked exactly the same. A pang of nostalgia and sadness hit the woman’s chest, but her reverie was broken when the sound of two loudly beating hearts overcame her senses. Her head turned slowly towards the two maids. Their chests were rising and falling rapidly, meaning they definitely saw her as a threat - she didn’t blame them, all they could see were her eyes, and they were not really welcoming, either. Her gaze traveled along the women’s faces yet settled on their necks as soon and she noticed how they had both been... branded. The bite marks were small, so they were not given to them by the Countess. How intriguing.

“Lady Drăculea,” Ugh, “so nice of you to finally join us,” he sauntered towards her, his hammer resting on his right shoulder, “how was your morning stroll? Not too many corpses on the way, I hope”, he grinned. There were... a lot of corpses, actually. It made her stomach turn, but she would never tell him this, regardless of whether or not he was right. His ego was already too big for his own good.

“Why do you pester me,” she asked, her tone flat and her mouth twitching downwards when she realised he planned on annoying her even further. Thank goodness her face was covered, that way he had absolutely no way of knowing if he was getting under her skin.

He gave out a mocking smile and pressed on even further, “You know, I have just been made aware of the most interesting piece of information,” he toyed with the handle of his hammer and eyed the woman up and down, sizing her up. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

Angela clenched her jaw, her mouth set in a hard line. She moved to the side in an attempt to walk past him, but he would not let her - sidestepping in front of her whenever she tried to leave.

“This isn’t your first time in the Castle. You came here once long before you were turned into one of us,” he stated matter of factly. He turned to the side, then, and used his free hand to wave it around, never letting go of his hammer, “this must really take you back. Say,” he moved closer then, his voice barely a whisper, “on a scale of one to ten, how awful was my sister?” there was his stupid grin again. Angela didn’t have the faintest clue as to how he came to know of her past - Alcina certainly had not told him, so that leaves.... who, exactly?

She heard the distinct sound of heels clicking on marble in the distance before finally deciding to give the Countess’s brother a reply, “I remember being bothered by a pesky, little man that evening and I can certainly relate to that now,” she said, curtly, “this feeling brings me back more than the haunting halls of this Castle ever could”, that was when a flash of white entered her peripheral vision. There stood the Lady of the House, in all her glorious beauty, at the top of the stairs. Her left, gloved hand resting on the railing, she seemed to be accessing the situation, trying to decide whether or not she would step in and get her brother in line. The two, poor maids were still standing on the very same spot, not being allowed to leave until the guest moves away from the front entrance and into the Castle. It was, overall, an incredibly uncomfortable situation.

Heisenberg stared at her blankly at first, but then his face broke into an almost predatory smile. He stepped closer to Angela, who refused to step back, “I am going to tell you this once and only once. Do not test me any further. I am not as patient as the Priestess, dog,” she sneered, her voice dripping with venom. It looked as if she had grown ten inches taller. Maybe she had. It certainly felt like she had. Heisenberg’s grip on his hammer tightened at the final word the woman spat out, the air around them almost crackling from all the tension. Funny how she was several inches taller than him and yet the man was still brave, or bold... stupid enough to irk her. She half hoped he would keep going - she needed to release some pent up anger anyway. Heisenberg’s posture stiffened.

Having had enough of the display of ego measuring, the Countess decided to interrupt their special moment before they ruined her day even further, “That’s enough,” she said, her voice had an edge to it. She was obviously not pleased with their behaviour - they were both just guests in her Castle, after all. She continued then, her voice much more neutral this time around, “Your chambers are this way,” she was speaking to the woman, yet her eyes were trained on her brother. The Countess slowly extended a long arm towards one of the corridors to her right, her movements precise, and her left hand, still resting on the railing, gripped it tighter.

Angela took that as her queue to finally leave Heisenberg behind, glaring at him one last time before moving away from the door, which put the two maids out of their misery and allowed them to leave the spot they were stuck in moments ago, and going up the stairs. Alcina was still standing near the railing and still eyeing her brother, who now had turned to face the two women, craning his neck slightly to look up at them. Angela watched as the two siblings seemed to communicate telepathically. She didn’t fully understand it, but felt as if it was not something she wanted to insert herself into or interrupt.

Her brother grunted something under his breath before tipping his hat at his sister and finally walking out. She was asking — no, telling — him to stand down. He was on her turf, now. No one understands the implications of that better than a dog, Angela thought.

They were alone now and, for someone who was bold enough to flirt with a married Countess at a social gathering her husband hosted, Angela did not seem to be able to meet her gaze. The taller woman enjoyed seeing her squirm, apparently, because they remained silent for a few, long seconds before the brunette was forced to say something to break the ice, “I humbly thank you, my Countess, for your gracious hospitality. It has not gone unnoticed”. Maybe her boldness was not what it used to be, but her courteousness and charm were still very much intact, Alcina noted.

All that came from Alcina was a soft hum. She stood there, accessing the woman before her. It was almost as if she was expecting something from her - Angela, being the chivalrous person that she was, knew exactly what was missing, but chose to ignore it for the time being, “That way, yes?”, she looked down the corridor Alcina had previously extended her arm towards. She secretly hoped she could simply go looking for the room herself. Standing near the Countess was torture - in the best way possible, of course.

“Indeed,” came the sharp response. She was not pleased with Angela’s choices leading up to this moment. The Lady’s lips curled downwards, something the other woman missed, since she was not even looking at her to begin with. A mistake.

Not one more word was said before the raven haired woman turned and began taking long strides towards her guest’s assigned chambers. Angela followed. She always would.

Clenching her fists to keep herself from drifting her eyes downwards and along the Countess’s frame, arriving to her guest room came as a distraction and was therefore a god given gift. Someone please. Put her out of her misery.

She watched as Alcina opened the, now ridiculously small, door, bending over at the waist to enter the room. Angela had to do the same, only she did not bend as low as her host. The room was elegantly decorated, as was expected, and surprisingly clean. She wondered just how many maids Alcina actually had and how long it would take scrape the floors clean, let alone dust each and every room off. She was glad she was not in their shoes, to say the very least.

“I won’t be needing that,” Angela said, flatly.

She could sense the taller woman’s rising anger, but her statement left the Countess confused enough that she ended up allowing the brunette to keep her head, “A mirror,” Alcina deadpanned. It was posed as a question, but when Angela turned her head to look the woman in the eyes, all she saw was utter disinterest.

“Yes. I would rather not,” she clasped her hands at her front and looked around the room. She should really stop doing that. The way she refused to meet Alcina’s eyes when she spoke to her was beginning to anger her. She could tell.

“The tone you have been carrying thus far is extremely ill-advised. You are a guest in my Castle. Do not make me remind you again,” her voice was as cold as steel, yet the Lady of the House seemed to show leniency for the second time that morning. If Angela were someone else, her head would probably be on a spike in the Castle grounds. Still, abusing her luck any further would be unwise.

The shorter woman’s pulse quickened and she bit on the insides of her cheek to keep herself grounded. Turning to fully face the Lady once more, she began removing the garments that were covering her face. First her hood and then her black mask, letting it settle around her neck, instead.

Alcina’s eyes seemed to immediately absorb the newly exposed features, her gaze scanning her face shamelessly before falling squarely on her lips and on a scar on the left side of her upper lip, which was new to her. Her hair also looked different. Gone was the intricate hairstyle with braids - taking its place was a loose bun. Alcina’s eyes were, once again, the only thing that betrayed her emotions and cracked her mask, for everything else in the woman, from her face down to her posture, was absolutely still and unreadable. Angela was aware of the fact that she looked older. Pale. The agony she felt over the decades written all over her face.

She did not bother to decipher how Alcina saw her now, it was ultimately pointless and she doubted the Countess cared that much about whatever it was that she thought she saw in her. It had been years since the smaller woman had looked at herself in a mirror - she refused to do it ever since her transformation, in fact, which explained her aversion towards them now.

“Forgive me, offending you was not my intention. It never will be,” her eyes were tired, yet she did not break eye contact with the woman this time, “it was poor of me,” she was visibly choosing her words in the most careful way possible, “I simply need to cover it, is all,” she hoped that her choice of words did not anger her host this time around. She awaited her response

...

“Do as you must,” and with that, the Lady left.

Angela sighed to herself and began looking for spare sheets so she could cover the blasted thing and not have to look at it any longer. Thankfully, no one was there to see her as she struggled to place the sheets over the mirror - not wanting to look at herself as she did it made the affair ten times harder. It almost made her laugh, in fact. It was too ridiculous. A low chuckle resonated throughout the room all of the sudden. It... didn’t come from her. Turning slowly, she was met with a pair of bright, yellow eyes, lurking in the shadows.

“It would be easier if you turned them to the side and tucked them behind it,” the young woman said, nodding her head towards the sheets Angela was holding. The brunette stared at her for a few seconds before looking down and taking her advice, turning the sheets, placing them over the mirror - though she turned her face to not look at her reflection - and, after a couple of attempts, managing to tuck them behind the damned thing. Finally.

“Well, would you look at that,” Angela mused.

“That took you way longer than it should have,” the faceless woman deadpanned.

That seemed to catch Angela off guard and she snorted, against her better judgment, before clearing her throat and facing the pair of eyes once more, “I don’t think we’ve met. Angela D—“, she thought about extending a hand to greet the mysterious figure in the shadows, but was interrupted before she could even finish saying her name.

“I know who you are,” she teased, “Mother has told us all we need to know about you,” she continued. That made Angela’s posture straighten. Us? Mother?

“I seem to be at a disadvantage, then. The Countess has not told me your name,” Angela countered. She didn’t feel threatened by the girl, still, she seemed clever. And nothing good can come out of Alcina’s children, surely.

The mystery girl left the shadows then and, curiously enough, she did not seem to resemble Alcina at all, yet the way she carried herself did remind her of the Countess. Her calm, yet reserved demeanour almost too close to her mother’s.

“Bela,” she told the taller woman, her face blank.

“It is an honour to meet one of the Countess’s daughters,” she bowed her head slightly at the girl.

“Mother spoke of you often,” the girl told her, apparently seeming to be more inclined towards skipping the pleasantries, “though I must warn you, do not upset her,” monotoned the daughter, “my sisters and I are not kind to those who do.”

Angela didn’t take it as a threat, though she knew she probably should. Part of her was glad Alcina had such devoted daughters. The other half was amused at the child’s boldness.

“I understand,” she told her, wanting to reassure her. Upsetting the Lady of the House was definitely not on Angela’s list of things to do, yet she didn’t want her daughters to think that she, a guest, planned on harming their mother. Gods forbid.

“Good,” Bela finished. As soon as the word was out of her mouth she all but dissipated in front of Angela’s eyes, leaving in her wake a cloud of small insects who disappeared through the cracks in the walls and left the room. Were the cracks there to allow them to traverse the Castle faster...? Angela stood there for a second, trying to understand what had just happened before giving up and shaking her head slightly. Hopefully this day was done with throwing things at her and actually allowed her to finally rest before being summoned by Miranda.

She was out of luck, it seemed. The nights were always so much harder on her for no apparent reason. At least not one that she was aware of. Before she tried to go to bed and call it a day, she had to ask Alcina for.... a bigger nightdress. It was utterly embarrassing, but thankfully the Countess was kind enough to not make any comments. The maids then gave her a silk nightgown - it didn’t fit her particularly well since the Lady was still taller than her, but it was better than wearing nothing at all.

She was in bed and staring at the ceiling, her fingers intertwined and her hands resting on her chest. She was tired, but knew that having a good nights sleep was not something that would happen any time soon. Even if she did manage to rest her eyes for a couple of hours, the nightmares would certainly wake her up. She longed for the nights, before her transformation, when she simply had to shut her eyes to fall asleep for as long as she wished. Now she didn’t need to sleep as much, true, but the nightmares proved themselves to be much more than a nuisance. They plagued her almost every night. It frustrated the woman beyond words.

Choosing to do something else with her “free” time, she got up, put her, or Alcina’s, slippers on, which were also not the right size for her, and left her room. The Castle was not as cold as it appeared to be, for whatever reason, so discomfort was not something she had to deal with as she explored the halls of a Castle she had already been in... in another life. Something caught her eye, then, as she roamed around, taking everything in. A piano. An expensive looking one, at that. She drew nearer to take a closer look, running her hands over the keys without pressing too hard on them so as to not make any sound. It was clean. Not a speck of dust on it. Those poor maids.

She felt a pair of eyes on her again, but the way the energy in the room shifted dramatically told her this wasn’t one of the daughters.

“Do you play?” Angela asked softly, her fingers still running over the surface of the piano. She heard a low hum first - the actual reply came a few seconds later.

“Yes, though it’s been centuries since I last indulged in it,” said the Countess, her tone was almost matching the other woman’s. It wasn’t soft per se, but it was softer than usual.

“Ah,” Angela let out a bitter, halfhearted chuckle, “the mundane getting left behind once more, yes?”, she rested her hand on top of the piano and turned her head slightly, awaiting the other woman’s response but still not looking at her.

“You speak of the past most fondly,” Alcina’s tone indicated that she disapproved of such notion, though she was clearly trying to not flat out say it. The comment made Angela’s expression close up immediately and she moved to stand next to a big window, trying to distract herself from the unpleasant thoughts creeping up on her. Ah. The moon and her were well acquainted by now.

“If I could go back in time, I would.” she retorted. That was all she wanted to say on the matter, though she doubted the conversation would end there.

Alcina was still watching her from the shadows, her gaze trained on her. The scenario reminded Angela of a sinner confessing the unspeakable to a priest. Funny how the Countess was the priest in that situation. The thought had Angela biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling. The amusement quickly dissipated from her mind, however, as it often did.

“I have.... regrets. Nothing has meaning now,” the woman confessed, she crossed her arms at her midriff then, her nails digging into her biceps.

“If you feel as if there may not be meaning, then find one and seize it,” the reply was not meant to sting, but it did nonetheless. Of course she would say that. Why wouldn’t she?

“It is easier said than done,” Angela said bitterly. The conversation was beginning to turn sour.

She heard the Lady tsk and then felt her getting closer, her steps almost soundless. She doesn’t hear the telltale clicking of her heels, so she must not be wearing them, “Excuses, excuses,” she was standing right next to her now, though she wasn’t facing the shorter woman. They were both looking out. Facing the moon. Angela found it preferable, that way. Stripping herself of all her walls in front of the Countess was easier if she did not have to stare into her eyes. The shadows served as her shield. The dark making her feel at home.

They stayed in comfortable silence for awhile before Angela broke it “I still feel it,” she had an almost pained expression, her voice no more than a whisper, “withering away, like a dying ember, and rotting inside me,”

That made Alcina turn her head to face her, waiting for her to continue. She watched as the woman’s arms dropped, only for her to begin pinching the area between her index finger and thumb with her other hand. It looked painful.

“My humanity,” Silence. Her jaw clenched and her bottom lip trembled for a brief second, not out of sadness but anger, “she took everything from me” she sneered.

“Mother Miranda only does what is best for us,” Angela wanted to interrupt her before she even had the chance to finish her sentence, but thought better of it. She pinched her hand harder. Alcina noticed.

“Do not say that. It might be what you tell yourself, but do not say it to me. Please.” Her face twisted in both anger and frustration. She was trying her damnedest not to snap at the Countess.

“The world could fit in your hands now. Seeing that as a curse and not a blessing is completely unfathomable,” Alcina coldly said. It was almost as if she was daring the shorter woman to test her patience once more.

“To you,”

“To me, and everyone else,”

Angela knew she could not make the other woman listen. Alcina had everything she had ever wanted - her transformation opened doors for her that would otherwise remain closed. Angela could understand that and was glad that the Lady of the House belonged to no one but herself. Still, that’s not how she saw it. Angela was taken, against her will, and experimented on by a woman whose only goal was to take what made Angela herself, turning her into one those.... things. And for what? What purpose did that serve her? They were all failed experiments. The rejects wrapped around her finger, some more than others. It was hell. How could Alcina not see that?

The point was, Alcina would never understand what she felt. Angela didn’t even fully understand it herself, to be quite honest. All she knew was she was not living. She wouldn’t wish what she was going through on her worst enemy.

Knowing that debating the Countess was a pointless resistance for her, she simply turned to walk away, wanting to put some distance between them. She was so incredibly tired...

... and she would have left, if the other woman hadn’t grabbed her wrist with inhuman speed. Being forced to turn her entire body and face the Countess, she tried to pull her wrist back, which she failed to do. Alcina was unsurprisingly strong and her grip unrelenting. The amount of force she used caused Angela to stumble forward a bit and into her - they were practically breathing the same air now, though the shorter woman had to crane her head upwards to actually lock eyes with the Countess. Her height allowed her to be at eye level with Alcina’s collarbone, but no more than that. It didn’t bother her too much.... no reason behind it.

“Do not turn your back on me,” the Countess warned, a scowl painting her face.

Even in this moment she looked absolutely magnificent, making Angela’s heart squeeze almost painfully in her chest for the first time in years. It dawned on her then, that the Countess was out of her normal attire - she wore a silken nightgown, much like her own, only hers actually fit her, and a sheer, black robe with a floral pattern; her hat was also missing. Closing her eyes to keep her gaze from wandering lower, all she could feel was the woman’s cold, yet impossibly soft, hand wrapped around her wrist.

She knew the tips of her ears would’ve turned pink by now, if they could. Thinking about it only made it worse. Her chest was heaving, her heart hammering in her chest, and their breaths mingled. Angela gulped slightly before opening her eyes again. She desperately wished to caress the other woman’s face, right about now - the light provided by the moon highlighted her features in the most beautiful of ways. She was utterly and completely under the Countess’s spell.

Alcina was still holding on to her wrist and using the same amount of force. Angela’s hand was trapped in between their bodies, if the Countess were to let go of her.... Well.

There was a scowl on her face no longer and she seemed to be struggling to keep her facial expressions under control. Her eyes dropped to Angela’s, now parted, lips, particularly on her scar, causing her own lips to twitch. The brunette noticed and was overtook by longing almost immediately. She needed to get away from the other woman, though she didn’t know how and every second that went by made it harder for her to tell Alcina to unhand her. Maybe she didn’t need to get away. Maybe what she needed was to draw even closer.

She could smell something floral - the other woman’s perfume? Maybe to honor the crest of House Dimitrescu? She could smell the Countess’s perfume, so, yes, they were that close.

Choosing to blame it on how intoxicating the woman’s scent was, Angela’s right hand, the one that was free, slowly moved upwards and towards the taller woman’s face, her fingers ghosting over it, not daring to touch just yet. She was silently asking for the Countess’s consent - she knew she should’ve verbalised it, but all her senses were malfunctioning. All she could see was her. All she knew was Her.

Alcina did not object, though her jaw clenched for a brief second. Angela suspected it was not due to anger, so she took it as her confirmation.

Initially, her touch resembled that of a feather - she feared that if she moved too quickly she would lose the woman just as fast. So far, so good. She ran the pads of her index and middle fingers over the Countess’s cheekbones, her eyes tracing the movement. Then, she ran the tips of her fingers over her nose, her brow; memorising every feature. Her pupils dilated when she traced them over the woman’s lips, which were now bare and without any lipstick. She wondered if she was taking more than she should, but her worries floated away when she heard the taller woman’s breath quicken before she was able to control it once more.

Feeling emboldened, Angela cupped the right side of her face. Alcina was no longer forcefully grabbing her wrist, but gently holding it. The brunette’s hand then fell to the right side of her neck, sliding down to settle on the top of her breast and near her heart.

And there they stayed for awhile. The moon their only witness. If this was a dream, Angela would kill whoever dared to wake her up. It didn’t seem like a dream, though, because what the other woman said next was vocalised much too clearly.

“You have haunted me for years,” she professed, her brow furrowed - she was clearly struggling to come to terms with whatever it was that she was currently feeling. Angela didn’t blame her.

“Good,” it was said absentmindedly, though there was honesty behind it.

Alcina’s chin turned upwards. She seemed... determined, maybe? Or was it something else? Angela was distracted.

Oh, it was definitely determination, for the Countess’s hand, the one that was holding Angela’s wrist, snaked around the shorter woman’s neck and pulled her towards her for their lips to meet.

Angela’s eyes all but bulged out of her head at first, but she quickly regained her senses. She was not a shy lover and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about this specific moment several times throughout the years - she was not going to blow it now. Grabbing a fistful of Alcina’s robe and nightgown, she parted her lips, allowing the other woman to deepen the kiss further. They fit together perfectly - it was as if Angela had finally found the missing piece to her jigsaw puzzle. They had finally come full circle. This is what they should’ve done the first time they met. They both knew this. This was a second chance they were not going to miss.

Turns out the Countess was an excellent kisser, not that it was of any surprise. She did have centuries to practice, after all, but it still made Angela’s heart flutter in her chest, the feeling settling on the pit of her stomach. Damn, that woman. The shorter woman inhaled through her nose sharply when Alcina’s hand, the one that was previously resting on her neck, moved upwards to grab a fistful of her hair - angling her head just so. Angela was more than happy to comply.

Suddenly, Alcina broke their kiss, her lips now pink, causing Angela to lick her own in anticipation. She wanted nothing more than to hear her name leave those lips. Would the Countess even allow herself to do such a thing? Her thoughts were interrupted when the taller woman wordlessly began freeing her hair from the bun it was in. Her eyes burned with lust, but her movements were slow and gentle - they told a different story.

When her hair cascaded down, Alcina’s lips upturned, making Angela’s twist into a smile. They gazed into each other’s eyes then. Alcina’s, in particular, revealing too much. They both knew this. It was too soon.

The tender moment was broken when the black haired woman took notice of how Angela’s nightgown, which was hers - the thought sending a wave of possessiveness through her chest - was beginning to slip off her shoulders. Something dawned on her face then, and she used her left hand to pull one of the sleeves down, fully exposing Angela’s shoulder to the night air. She shivered, which did not go unnoticed by the other woman - her nipples were practically tearing holes through the soft fabric of the nightgown. The Countess locked eyes with her then, and what she saw only confirmed what was about to happen.

Angela’s eyes wordlessly told her ‘Consume me’. And so she did.

———

It seemed that it was possible for Angela to sleep without being plagued by nightmares, after all. Maybe it was due to how exhausted she was. She chose not to overthink it, now was not the time.

“What’s that,” Heisenberg said, flatly, looking to start another argument for the third time that morning. It seemed that not even during breakfast did the man mind his business. It didn’t help how he was sitting directly in front of her, either. Why had Alcina arranged the seats like that?

Angela’s expression seemed to speak for her, because the man felt like he had to explain what he had meant by his question, “That,” he pointed with his fork, “on your neck,”. Ah. Well.

She can’t talk about how the Head of House Dimitrescu picked her up effortlessly, placed her on top of her grand piano and... pushed her over the edge. Several times. She most definitely cannot talk about how, even after not allowing Angela to catch her breath, the Countess picked her up bridal style - the brunette’s legs shaking too much for her to walk - and took her to her chambers to make the shorter woman sing her name again. Over and over again. She certainly will not mention how the woman branded her with her mouth, though never actually biting into the soft flesh, as she allowed Angela to come down from the heights, her fingers still inside her as she did it. No. She couldn’t say any of that.

The woman looked down at her plate to keep her composure before meeting the man’s prying gaze again, “I woke up with it,” she paused to chew her food, not daring to look at anyone else. Alcina was on her left - she could tell she was watching her - and her girls were on her right - also watching her, “Maybe I have began decomposing faster than expected,”. She heard one of the daughters snicker before being forced to keep it down after being kicked under the table - by Bela, she was guessing.

The reply didn’t seem to satisfy Heisenberg, but he choose not to pry, for he sensed that the truth would probably end up disgusting him.

Angela gave Alcina a sidelong glance then, noticing the way she was hiding how the edge of her lips were turning upwards behind her glass.

......

In another life, indeed.

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x oc #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x oc #(tagging it as x reader so it can reach a wider audience lmk if u want me to change it)#my writing #<3<3<3<3<3<3 #resident evil village #resident evil 8

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gl0rious-purpose · 3 years

Text

Exciting and Fast Things (Loki x TVA!Reader)

Summary: Life at the TVA was boring. Of course, Loki had to be the one to spice up life there, specifically yours.

Word Count: 3214 Words

Author's Note: There is implied sexual content and light swearing, but there's not really a lot of details.

The TVA. The infamous Time Variance Authority. It was the only thing you had known since you were born. Or at least you were taught that. A man by the name of Mobius M. Mobius, who was obsessed with jet skis, had raised you as his daughter. He was kind, gentle, and very much dad material. You never really went to school, the knowledge just magically showed up as you got older. While you got older, your dad had discovered a variant. The variant had been killing minute men all across the timeline, causing a huge disruption in workflow.

The disruption mostly affected you. You worked as a file keeper and you had to constantly keep updating files as the minute men and women were killed and new ones were trained and brought in, minds clearly wiped. Well, in a sense. As far as you know, you were the only one who had been their your whole life, besides Mobius and Ravonna.

While you were working one day, an alarm started going off. It was on that didn't go off as often, but it piqued your interest. The light would flash whatever color an identified variant radiated. This one radiated green. Those who radiated green tended to be perfectionists, analytical, conceptual, cool, calm, inventive and logical. They could even be mischievous. The green ones were always rare, or at least that's what you thought. You've never met one. Well, that was until Mobius had identified the variant killing all personnel.

It was a Loki variant. Out of curiosity, you looked up the Loki variants on your computer. Most of the variants you saw were apparently "pruned." The one they had identified apparently was unlisted because you couldn't find on that was female, but seeing that all of them were fluid with sex and gender, you thought they had just shifted to a different form. As you scrolled through the files, one caught your eye. Loki Laufeyson, Timeline: 2012. You pulled the file up and scanned it. 2012? There's no way they're here now. As you read further, you found the status area. In bright red lettering read 'In Process Of Capture.'

Your thin brows furrowed lightly before returning back to their relaxed position. We capture them? You inquired mentally, not wanting a response. You shook it all off before closing down all the files and clearing the history. That was the number one rule when it came to computers in the TVA. You log in, get the information you require, and then you would clear out without a trace. You truly hated it, but it wasn't your place to complain about an extremely reasonable rule. Closing the area completely and locking it, you stared into the now dark area. I wonder if I'll ever meet on of these green Loki variants. You mused mentally, sighing as your keys bounced against your thigh as you made your way to your shared apartment with Mobius.

Several Months Later...

Months had passed since the Loki variant was identified. You've never seen your dad more excited than that moment. Well, besides when he met you and he got new jet ski magazines. You only got them because they made him happy, but you were more into motorcycles. Running the risk of getting thrown off an open bike at high speed just appealed to you. Maybe you liked the idea of it. Or maybe it was the thrill. One of these days, you were determined to ride one at least.

Today, however, was not one of those days.

A week ago, the minute personnel was able to capture the 2012 Loki variant. While The Avengers going back in time to break the timeline was fate, Loki escaping with the tesseract was not. You stood by the docking bay, waiting eagerly to see the green variant. Your dad had been so excited about this, he wanted you to be there. He wanted you to see that all the hard work paid off. Of course, you had to stay in a corner, far out of harm's way. As the portal open up, the minute personnel pushed the variant through. Your breathing faltered as you took him in. He was menacing, but in a good way. He was extremely tall. If he were to stand by you, he would've loomed over you like a giant. The idea made you shiver, not with anxiety, but with.. anticipation. You wanted that to happen.

A loud clink caused you to focus back in on what was happening. The personnel was unlocking his chains, leaving his mouth guard for last. As they dropped the chains, they looked at the guard before deciding to leave it on until they got to booking. You stared intensely at the variant. The almost viridian green suit flattered his form quite well. Instinctively, your mouth turned up into a smirk at his appearance, eyes flickering to the sudden movement. Mobius had walked up to the variant, clearly pleased with himself.

"Loki Laufeyson. Glad you could be here." Mobius spoke courtly to him, which caused the man in front of him to roll his eyes. If you didn't know Mobius, you would've thought he would've pruned him right there and then at the action. But that's the thing – you did know him. Mobius would rather work along side this variant and understand him better in person than removing him from the timeline completely. Mobius gave a smile and stepped aside to let the guards through. They walked swiftly, afraid that Loki might try something while not locked up. You staring must've been felt because suddenly his eyes flickered over to your location. If you weren't mistaken, you could've swore you saw a hint of mischief glimmering in his eyes. Once he was out of sight, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Oh my god...You couldn't help, but mentally swooned over the variant. You had to manually take care of your breathing as you tried to compose yourself as Mobius came over, huge smile plastered on his face.

"Wasn't that awesome?!" Mobius spoke in a breathy voice, overwhelmed by the encounter. You shot him a small grin, happy that he finally got what he wanted. He pulled you into a huge, bear hug, rocking you back and forth. Mobius pulled away, pressed a kiss to your forehead. He shot you a toothy grin before glancing at one of his own personnel. They gave him some type of gesture, you believe it was to indicate that the variant was ready to be interviewed and he nodded before looking back at you.

"Well, I better go over the variant's history. I'll send my findings up to be filed in a bit." You barely nodded at him before you saw him basically run out of there to get to the interview room. Back against the wall, you stood there for a couple minutes. You would've spoken to Mobius instead of giving simple gestures, but it felt like Loki had stolen your voice. Clearing your throat, you pushed yourself off of the wall and walked out of the docking bay to the files room.

As you got settled in and started to dive into your work, your mind kept wandering to the variant. He was just so hypnotizing and he had you spellbound. Without moving your head, your eyes glanced up at the personnel walking by as you remember somewhere in the file that said his mother – well, adopted mother – had taught him magic. Had he casted an incantation on you? You pondered on this for a while before rolling your eyes.

"We all know magic is incapable of use here." You muttered, internally scolding yourself at the thought. You reached over to grab a file you had to digitize and placed it in the scanner. As you watched the devices bar of light through the closed lid, you realized that you weren't going to get a moment without thinking about the variant. You groaned, sitting back in your chair as you waited for the scanning to finish. You thought this was going to be a long day like the rest. However, it was starting to change. A long day? This was going to be a long week.

Every work day went the same way, but it appeared Mobius was spending more and more time with the Loki variant. Please let Mobius get his work done with Loki. You internally pleaded this for several mornings as you watched him rush from the apartment to meet up with the God. You placed your hands on the counter as your hung your head, mentally exhausted from thinking about Loki. Maybe you should talk to him? You suggested to yourself as you took in a deep breath, looking up. As you looked up, a magazine caught your eyes. You slid your body over the counter as you reached for it, smiling at the motorcycle on the front.

"Great," you started, slightly sarcastically. "An excuse not to have to file dad's notes yet. Score!" You celebrated a little before grabbing your things and walking down to files. You were going to file those note whether you liked it or not, you were just going to make it the first thing you did. Walking out, you locked the door, juggling the items you had in your hands. As you swung your bag over your shoulder in the hall, magazine in hand, you heard minute personnel talking behind you, boots rapidly hitting the ground loudly.

"Did you hear? Mobius is actually trusting the Loki variant to roam the place." The first one spoke, clearly astonished. The other one scoffed behind you.

"I think he's definitely gonna help." The second one's snide remark made you pick up the pace a bit, eager to get away from the negativity.

"Yeah, help himself." The first guard replied in a snarky manner before they both let out demeaning giggles rang out, nauseating you. You swallowed the feeling as you picked up the pace and made it to files. Looking up at the clock on the wall, you saw you were extremely early. Maybe I can get more work done. You mused to yourself as you got the area unlocked and ready for business. Dropping into your chair, you turned on the computer and logged in. As it logged in and took you to the homescreen, you zoned out. Was Mobius really letting Loki walk around freely? You pondered on what the hunters had said, jumping at a file being dropping on the counter. You looked at the guard, who in turn looked at you apologetically, muttering a 'sorry' before scurrying off to their post. You shook your head as you grabbed the file and placed it on the scanner. By the way it was going, you could already tell it was gonna be a long work day.

As hours passed, by the fourth hour of work, you had already gotten all your work done. Even though time moves differently here, it could at least speed the fuck up. You thought, grumpily. Normally at this time, you would have more files coming. You had gotten a notification that no more files were going to come until tomorrow due to printing error. As you sat there, wondering what to do, you remembered your motorcycle magazine. Grabbing it gleefully, you eagerly started to flip through the magazine. As you read each page, you basically checked out if the world around you. In fact, you were so engrossed with the magazine, you barely noticed that Loki had walked up to the counter in front of your desk. He leaned over the desk, examining you, waiting for you to notice his presence. His eyes raked over your body, enticed with what he was seeing. You were the most ravishing person he had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. Gods, the things he would do to you if he had permission. He leaned further, not realizing you hadn't seen him. After a couple minutes, he decided to clear his throat to catch your attention. The sound startled you as you quickly closed the magazine and threw it under files, looking at the person briefly. As you adjusted yourself, you did a double-take of the person leaning comfortably across from you. You gulped, hoping your sudden nervousness wasn't apparent. He gave you a smile as he caught your eyes, easing the tensions, but causing your stomach to twist into knots. A sailor's knot to be specific, and it was quite uncomfortable. You turned your body more towards him, not realizing it allowed him to take you in fully. His blue eyes flickered down before they rose slowly back to yours.

"Hello, Loki Laufeyson." You spoke slowly, hoping your voice was as steady as you tried to make it. He hummed in response, scanning your chest for a name tag.

"Hello..." His voice trailed off, realizing he couldn't find your name anywhere.

"..None of your business." You finished his sentence, wanting to mess with him before you actually let him know your name. You couldn't imagine how wide his eyes would be when he learned who your dad was. You watched him suck in his cheeks, trying to figure out how to respond. His eyes closed as he head leaned back fully, allowed your eyes to slowly trail from the underside of his jaw to the bottom of his throat. It was the strangest thing, but you thought it was attractive seeing him like that. I'd like to see that more often. You chewed on your lip as some questionable thoughts came to mind. His head fell back down, face covered with determination.

"Excuse my manners. You know my name, but I don't know yours. What is your name? A woman as ravishing as you must have a lovely name.." Loki's voice seemed to grow deeper as the sentence trailed off, flicking his out against his bottom lip as looking you up and down again, hoping you noticed. Without warning, your cheeks grew a little hot. Your eyes flickered down as you tried to make your cheeks go back to their normal hue, mentally scolding yourself. Loki smirked mischievously at your reaction. He watched your head turn back to him, ready to respond.

"It's Y/N. Y/N Mobius." You paused as you watched the gears turn in his head before his mouth formed an 'o' shape. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. That was definitely not the reaction you were expecting, let alone the one you wanted.

"He talked about you. I didn't connect the dots that you were his daughter until now." Loki shrugged nonchalantly, giving you a warm, cunning smile. All you did was nod in response. Now that these foolish semantics were done, you decide to find out why he was really here.

"Anyway, why are you here?" You inquired, reaching over to clear the computer before logging off. You won't remember to do so after this conversation. You glanced over at him as he quickly put his words together.

"Well, Y/N, I came to see the prettiest person at the TVA." He stated his true intentions, watching your face intently for a reaction. As he watched you stare blankly at him, he realized you might've been oblivious to his flirting attempts. This is going to be harder than I thought. He grumbled internally, throwing a mischievous smile on.

"That would be you, darling." The nickname rolled off of Loki's silver tongue, making your stomach twist tighter. Ignoring the internal war, you have a quick smile before going back to just staring at him. Your unimpressed look threw Loki off completely. He breathed in deeply, realizing he'd have to change the subject to keep this interaction going. He needed this to work.

"Um, anyway... What were you reading? You know, before I distracted you." He wiggled his eyebrows at you, watching your eyes flicker to the finish pile of files. Sighing, you dug out the magazine and tossed onto the counter besides Loki's arms. He eyes the magazine, taking in every detail.

"It's a motorcycle magazine." You explained blatantly, knowing he knew what it was. He hummed in response before chuckling.

"Your dad likes jet skis and you like motorcycles. Huh." He pondered for a second before continuing. "How interesting." One of his brows raised as he looked up at you, intrigued.

"What can I say? We both are drawn to exciting and fast things. It's our passion." You explained, hoping Loki was going somewhere with this conversation. If he wasn't, you were very much prepared to go home and sleep. He looked down as he licked his lips, eyes peering back up at you through his brows.

"You know, I'm very exciting." Loki stopped his sentence, hoping he had captured your attention. Your attentive eyes stared back at him, head tilting slightly to the right. Make this good, Laufeyson...You internally urged him, eyes squinting slightly.

"And I can go as fast as you like." His eyes flickered to your lips before moving back up, sending you a quick wink as he laughed darkly. You laughed nervously, biting your lip as you brought your hand up to the computer, turning it off. Well, if he's interested. Loki watched you push yourself away from the computer desk, eyes dropping down to your thighs. As much as he tried to stop himself and half some self control, he stared at them, sizing you up a bit. He nodded as his eyes trailed back up your body again, this time he did it seductively, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. You walked over to him slowly, hands slowly sliding up his body before settling on his chest, palm towards him. Loki watched you, eager for your next moves. You moved your right hand to grab his tie, gently tugging him towards you. Leaning your mouth up against the corner of his, the corners of your lips turning up teasingly, eyes fluttering closed.

"If you're so confident about that, let's find out." You whispered to him seductively, reaching out and biting his bottom lip. Loki growled at you, roughly grabbing your hips as he hungrily pressed his lips to yours, his tongue making it's way quickly into your own. You moaned as he continued to battle your own tongue, wrapping your arms around his neck. His tongue grazed against the inside of your mouth, exploring every inch. Suddenly remembering you were out in the open, kissing a variant, you pulled away for air. As you briskly locked everything up, leaving the magazine on the counter, you grabbed Loki's wrist and dragged him back to the shared apartment. You looked behind, winking at him before he hurried to walk beside you, slipping an arm around your waist. The slyness? The mischief? The analytical skills? Loki was without a doubt a green variant, and you were sure his personal skills were going to keep proving that.

You weren't entirely sure of what was going to happen tonight, but you were very eager to let it happen. You just hoped Mobius was so busy talking shop with Ravonna that he wouldn't be coming home.

You can also read this fic here <3

#Loki #Loki One Shot #TVA #TVA AU #Marvel AU #Marvel One Shots #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Mobius M. Mobius #Angst #Light Fluff #Implied Smut

46 notes · View notes

queenof-literature · 3 years

Note

Could you maybe do a story when Wild experiences a flashback near the other links?

Thank you for the request @dawn-wild-star !!!

To those who saw my WIP game tag, this isn’t the same fic I’m sorry this one just got done first.

This turned out with more Time & Twilight & Wild fluff and angst than I intended.

TW: Panic Attack

Blank

Time watched the various groups of Links from his place leaning against a tree. He was often the one who would need to keep the group moving, not that it was hard with no many antsy Spirits of Courage, but they had some leeway to camp early today. Time continued to play soft melodies through the ocarina at his lips. He couldn’t name the tune, he simply played whatever came to mind.

The Links had arrived somewhere on the surface of Sky's Hyrule, the young man hoped to make it to Skyloft in two days to see his Zelda once again. Time truly hoped whatever force opened the portals let Sky have time at his home with his Zelda and his friends. Hylia knows the young man deserves it, all the boys do.

Four, Hyrule, Sky and Wind were all sparring before it turned into an odd game of tag. Time didn’t really understand the rules, but he didn’t think the boys playing did either.

Twilight and Warriors were down by a small stream the group had found, washing Epona and chatting idly.

Legend sat near Wild as the younger flipped the variety of vegetables and rice within the simple pot on the campfire. Wild said he couldn’t do much without a larger pot found in his Hyrule, but even what he could do in his portable pot was always amazing.

Time didn’t know what the two were talking about, choosing not to eavesdrop, but the two looked content to just chat while Wild cooked. Time had to admit, he was always excited for dinner now that Wild was around. Not only was the hero amazing at cooking, it was a hobby he enjoyed as well.

Time took the lull in action to simply relax and observe the world around him.

“Uhhh… Time?” Legend called out, and it wasn’t the boy’s calling out that worried him, it was the hesitance hidden in his voice. “I think that… thing is happening again.” He gestured to Wild. Looking closer Time noticed Wild was staring at something. Glancing over, he could see the Master Sword, leaned carefully against a mossy rock.

“Wild?” Legend questioned. “You gonna keep staring and burn our food?” Legend hesitantly reached up to Wild’s shoulder and shook gently. Time quickly walked over to check on their cook, expecting Wild to flinch out of zoning out as he often did with a touch or shake.

For a moment, nothing happened. Time and Legend were so focused on the lack of response, they didn’t notice Wild’s right hand slip, right onto the edge of the pot. It only took a few seconds for them to notice, but those few seconds allowed for the side of Wild’s hand to smoulder and burn.

“Shit!” Legend cursed, swiftly pulling Wild’s hand away from the fire. The burn was already starting to blister. “I… I didn’t know moving him would…” Legend trailed off in an unusual sign of surprise and guilt.

“It’s not your fault.” Time assured as he gently took Wild’s hand. The boy hadn’t even flinched, still staring off. Time couldn’t see a hint of life in the boy’s eyes. Time didn’t want to admit how hard it was looking at Wild’s normally expressive face, now completely blank. “I didn’t notice either.” Time glanced up from Wild’s hurt hand, and into Legend’s icy eyes, not liking the guilt he saw swirling in them. “Legend, I’m serious.” Time stared into Legend’s eyes.

“Stop looking at me and take care of him.” Legend scoffed, and Time sighed.

“Pup!” Time called loud enough for the young man to hear from the creek. Carefully Time dragged Wild away slightly from the fire, making sure no stray limbs touched the flames.

Time heard rustling and fast approaching steps.

“Time?” Twilight called out, rushing over at Time’s urgent tone. Time assumed Warriors would bring back Epona. Time simply gestured to Wild, Twilight knew more about this. “Cub?” Twilight asked, kneeling down besides him. At first he thought the boy was upset or hurt, but this reaction, or lack thereof, spoke otherwise. “How long has he not been responding?” Twilight asked Time, eyes falling on Wild’s injured hand. “And did he burn himself?” Legend looked away at this.

“It was an accident.” Time replied, refusing to blame Legend when he had no malintent. “He hasn’t been responding for a few minutes now.”

“Is everything okay?” Four called as his group rushed in from the woods.

“Everything is fine.” Time called, loud enough for Warriors to hear down near the creek. “We think Wild is having another memory.” Time ended with a small question, receiving a nod from Twilight. The four Links all crowded around Wild to see for themselves.

“Don’t crowd him too much.” Twilight warned. “He could wake up anytime, and we don’t want him panicking.” The others backed up slightly, murmuring small apologies.

“What happened to his hand?” Hyrule asked, noticing the bright red skin that Time was cradling in his hands.

“It got burned, I was just about to ask you boys to get bandages and water.” Time gently held out Wild’s hand for Hyrule to look at.

“I got it!” Sky called as he ran off to their pile of supplies. Hyrule began healing Wild’s hand without any prompting, allowing a small amount of Life to filter itself into Wild. Twilight heard more rustling, and turned to see Warriors and a newly rinsed Epona coming up from the creek.

“Thanks for finishing washing her.” Twilight called as Warriors hitched Epona, giving her plenty of leeway to move around.

“No problem. What’s going on?” He asked the group gathered around their cook.

“Memory.” Legend grunted out.

“Rice is burning.” Warriors called out. As worried as he was for Wild, Warriors felt it his job to make sure everything else was alright so the others could tend to him. Carefully removing the rice from the fire, Warriors scrunched his nose. “There’s no saving that.” The captain said as he set the rice aside to cool.

“Wild’s gonna be pissed.” Wind joked, looking worriedly at Wild.

“He’ll be okay, we just need to treat the burn.” Twilight assured, noticing Warriors shift at the mention of a burn. Just then, Sky returned with the requested supplies, handing them to Time. Time opened the container of water, preparing to pour it and clean Wild’s burn.

“Heat up the water first.” Warriors snatched up the container, bringing it over to the fire.

“Won’t that hurt?” Wind tilted his head.

“It’ll take the sting out.” Warriors explained. “I won’t boil it or anything. Trust me, I’ve got plenty of burns.” Warriors held up his arm with his Volga burn scar and winked. The others looked at Hyrule.

“It’s not open or extreme, so we should be fine.” Hyrule shrugged, trusting the captain's knowledge.

“Try to hurry, I don’t really want him to snap out of it at the same time we’re pouring hot water on him.” Twilight spoke while placing his hand on Wild’s other shoulder.

“Do we know how long this will last?” Four asked Twilight, who shook his head.

“No, it could last from a few minutes to a few hours. I just hope it’s a pleasant one.” Twilight murmured that last part mostly to himself, but the others had heard. It set the group on edge that they truly had no idea what was going through Wild’s head, no matter what, his face remained blank.

Hyrule finished healing Wild’s hand as much as he could and put one finger under Wild’s nose.

“His breathing is completely normal.” Hyrule marveled, expecting some sort of stutter, or quickness, any sort of irregularity. But his breathing suggested he was merely asleep.

“The best way to describe it is he’s dreaming.” Twilight suggested, not quite sure how to explain what Wild was going through.

“More like a coma sitting up.” Hyrule mused.

“So… he can’t feel anything?” Legend asked, and Twilight noticed the careful hope in his voice.

“He’ll feel it when he wakes up.” Twilight looked down at Wild’s burn. “Which is why I want to hurry and treat it.

“Calm down cowboy, it’s almost hot enough.” Warriors rolled his eyes from where he was heating up the container of water by the fire. Although he too hoped Wild wouldn’t ‘wake up’ before they finished treating his burns.

Whatever Wild was going through, it scared Warriors, not that he would say it out loud. There was no reason to panic the others. He had seen his soldiers, his brothers in arms, have flashbacks similar to these, but they never lasted this long. They also had some sort of trigger, something that brought back memories. Sometimes they were loud noises, sometimes they were the sight of blood or a wound, sometimes a yell or a panicked order, but they always showed it. Their breath would quicken, they would panic, something. They could also feel what was going on around them to some extent. Wild though, Wild was just… gone. What triggered whatever Wild was going through? It was as if he wasn’t in his body. Perhaps he wasn’t.

Warriors lifted the bottle from the fire, feeling the side. Perfect. Hot, but not scalding.

“It’s ready.” Warriors called lowly, turning around to the group loosely surrounding Wild. “Can I see his hand?” Warriors asked Hyrule, who still held Wild’s partially healed burn. Hyrule nodded and gently passed it over.

“This will hurt.” Warriors looked over to Twilight, silently asking permission to continue. Warriors knew that in reality, he probably didn’t have to ask Twilight’s permission to do what would make WIld feel better in the long run, but it felt right. Especially when Twilight knew far more about the state Wild was in than the rest of them. Twilight nodded at him.

Carefully, Warriors poured a small amount of water on the burn. Really it would be better to do it all at once and get it over with, but he had to check. Could Wild even feel it? His thoughts were confirmed when Wild didn’t even twitch.

“Damn he’s really out of it.” Warriors mumbled, continuing to pour the hot water. The stunned silence he was met with confirmed his statement. After the water was poured, Sky handed him a cloth to dry it. Warriors gently padded the burn, just because Wild couldn’t feel it didn’t mean Warriors was going to be careless. Besides, what if he could feel it and he just couldn’t express it? Warriors steered his mind away from that.

“Bandage?” Warriors reached a hand out. Before Sky could place the bandage in his hand, Legend stopped him.

“Here.” Legend took the bandage, taking a potion out of his smaller bag. He poured a small amount of potion onto the bandage before handing it to Warriors, who nodded in thanks.

“There.” Warriors said as he finished carefully bandaging Wild’s hand. “It’ll be good as new in no time.”

“What do… What do we do now?” Wind glanced at Wild’s expressionless face. He looked so closed off, and yet so open at the same time. Usually the group would be thankful at Wild not hiding his expressions behind a hood or a placed emotion, but this was different. This was just wrong.

“We wait.” Twilight sighed. The rest of the Links deflated, none of them enjoying the idea of not doing anything to help. “But we should probably move him.” Twilight said, glancing towards the fire.

“Is that a good idea?” Four questioned, and Twilight nodded.

“I’ve gotten him to sit down before and it was alright.” Twilight stated, easily bending down and scooping up Wild. Still there was no reaction from the prone figure, still head rolling onto Twilight’s shoulder.

“He’d kill you if he knew you did that.” Warriors smirked.

“That’s why no one’s going to tell him.” Twilight threatened with a glare. He walked over to a log further from the fire. This really was the perfect camping place, logs spread everywhere and carefully placed trees.

Twilight slowly knelt down and leaned Wild against the log, ignoring the shuffling Links in the background who didn’t know what to do with themselves. To be honest, Twilight was grateful to have something to do for the time being. After adjusting Wild to stay against the log, Twilight adjusted the boy’s limbs, straightening his legs slightly so he wouldn’t be sore later. He had no idea how long this would last, but he had a feeling they would be in it for the long haul. He felt a presence behind him, glancing up he saw it was Time.

“Is there anything else we can do?” Time asked softly, trying not to look into Wild’s empty eyes. Twilight shook his head sadly.

“Not that I know of. Just be here when he comes back.”

“We can do that.” Time clapped his hand on Twilight’s back, sitting on another log a short distance away.

“There’s no saving dinner.” Legend glanced in disgust at the burnt meal.

“We can stick with rations tonight.” Time stated, hearing no complaints. Sure they were all used to great food on the road, but as long as WIld was alright they would go back to rations in an instant.

“He’s… really vulnerable.” Hyrule observed awkwardly, glancing at the prone form of his friend, still not even a twitch as afternoon began to turn to early evening.

“I was thinking that too.” Sky agreed.

“What if a Yiga, or a monster, or something just carried him off while he was like this. In his Hyrule how did he survive this?” Wind asked.

“There’s no point in focusing on what ifs.” Time chided. “He’s here now and that’s what’s important.”

“Well yeah. But what if he wanders off a trail and this happens?” Legend crossed his arms. “And some monster comes by and just gobbles him up-”

“Legend!” Sky interrupted.

“What? I’m not the only one thinking of it.” Legend defended.

“Now is not the time for this conversation.” Twilight spoke up. “Let’s get through this one first, it’s only fair for Wild to be aware of this conversation.”

“Shouldn’t he have been up by now?” Four too glanced at Wild, still not moving a muscle next to Twilight.

“Yeah, but I don’t know what else to do.” Twilight sighed.

“What happens when he comes back?” Warriors asked Twilight.

“He just kinda slowly comes to. He sometimes seems a little tired but that’s all.” Twilight answered all of their questions the best he could, although he himself didn’t know all the answers.

“So he doesn’t… panic?” Warriors asked again, and Twilight wondered what the captain was thinking about.

“Not usually, he sometimes seems sad.” The reason Wild was sad didn’t need to be explained. The others could imagine remembering your life from 100 years ago, a life you would never have again, would be painful. With no more questions the group fell into idle conversation once more. There were no grand stories or competitions or comparisons, just small exchanged words as they waited for Wild to wake up.

About 15 minutes later, their waiting ended.

With a heaving breath, as if escaping from the claws of a monster, Wild awoke.

“Wild? You back with us?” Twilight turned around to meet panicked blue eyes. Wild curled in on himself, bringing his knees up to his chest in self comfort, hands reaching to clutch his hair. His panic obviously overshadowed the pain he would feel in his hand.

“Wild, Link, it’s okay.” Twilight sprung up and placed himself in front of Wild. “Your name is Link, we call you Wild.” Twilight reminded gently. “You’re safe, you’re just sitting near a campfire.” Wild’s breaths began to slow.

“Twi…” Wild’s voice spoke up, rougher than it had been for a long time.

“Yeah Cub. You okay?” Twilight looked into Wild’s panicked eyes, and the answer was apparent.

“I-the M-Master Sword it chose me I-”, the entire group looked on, sadness in their eyes as Wild panicked.

“Cub, just breath for a minute. Don’t think about anything else, just focus on me.” Twilight told the boy gently, slowing down his breathing so Wild could copy. Whatever he had seen, they could sort it out in a minute. Right now he just needed to calm down. Twilight had never seen him so panicked after a memory.

“H-He… I don’t understand…” Wild breathed out heavily.

“Cub, shh, it’s okay.” Twilight leaned closer, carefully placing a hand on Wild’s shoulder, frowning and pulling his hand back when he shrunk away.

“I-I didn’t… w-want it… I don’t know why…” Wild was mostly mumbling to himself at this point, and none of the other Links knew what to do.

“Wild, please just breathe.” Twilight practically begged, glancing around for help no one knew how to give. Wild continued to mumble, hands tightening their grip in his hair despite the bandaging, desperate to ground to one of the realities he was currently between.

“Cub.” Twilight called softly, placing a hand on Wild’s shoulder again, hoping to help ground his protege. Wild tensed once again, but Twilight didn’t let go. “You’re here with me and the other Links. We’re in Sky’s Hyrule on the surface, it’s the evening and we’re sitting and talking.”

“Daytime…” Wild mumbled, confused.

“It was daytime.” Twilight confirmed. “But it’s evening now.” A shaky bandaged hand released strands of hair and gripped Twilight’s hand on his shoulder.

“Real?” Wild murmured, mostly to himself but Twilight answered.

“We’re real. That was just a memory, Cub.” Twilight soothed, scooting to sit beside Wild once again, letting the younger take in his surroundings. Wild looked at all the different Links faces, studying them closely. The rest of the Links tried to wipe their horrified expressions off their faces, Sky going as far as to awkwardly wave when Wild’s eyes met his. Twilight noticed Wild’s confused glance at the bandages on his right hand.

“You got burned, it was an accident. You’ll feel better soon.” Twilight promised. Wild only nodded slightly, putting all his trust in Twilight’s words.

“They took me away. I pulled the sword and-and they didn’t even give me a chance to say goodbye.” Wild whispered shakily, eyes still far off, flashes of fighting against knights as they pulled him away. Twilight wrapped his arm fully around Wild, loose as to not trap him. After some silence, Wild latched onto Twilight, throwing one arm across the older’s back, and the other gripping his pelt. Both hands held on desperately, wanting more than anything to anchor himself. Wild felt Twilight’s body wrap around him, the familiar warmth and smell of pine grounding him further.

“Careful of your hand.” Twilight warned softly, but WIld either didn’t hear him or didn’t care.

“Zelda. In a memory she said my father was a knight. Was he there? Why would he let them… There was someone, someone important I never saw again. Why did they take me away?” Wild shivered. Later he would be embarrassed at how thoroughly shaken he was, but right now he was scared and confused and barely knew where he was. His world was crashing down on him and it felt like Twilight was the only one keeping him from tumbling down.

“Keep breathing, Cub. I’m here.” Twilight soothed again, looking up as Time approached carefully, obviously not sure if he should interject.

"Time?" Wild looked up slightly from Twilight's shoulder.

"Yeah Cub, we're all here. You're safe now."

"Why did he let them take me? Do fathers do that?” Wild sounded so lost, and Time froze. He wanted to say he didn’t know, he never had a father. But he saw Malon and Talon, and really him and Talon had grown closer over the years. If Malon was being taken away to a castle to ultimately save the world? Would Talon let them take her? Would he be able to fight off an entire army that would just keep coming? No, but he would try. The truth was, Time didn’t know Wild’s father… but neither did Wild.

“Wild.” Time softly gained the boy’s attention. “What happened to you wasn’t fair and I’m sorry. Even if the world needed saving, they shouldn't have sacrificed the wellbeing of a child to do it. None of it was your fault, and it shouldn't have happened." Wild buried his head into Twilight's neck once more.

"I didn't think I'd really pull it." Wild whispered. "I thought I could try it and go home. I never went home, Twi." Twilight felt his neck grow wet with tears, Wild wasn't outright sobbing, yet his tears ran freely. Twilight doubted he was entirely coherent after a memory like that.

"I'm sorry Wild." Twilight whispered, looking at the other Links, all clearly upset that they had nothing to do to help. Twilight hesitated, before speaking. "You're home now. It's not the same I know but you'll always have a home with us." The other Links nodded determinedly.

"Home…" Wild spoke from his neck.

"Yeah, Cub." Twilight finally felt Wild's grip lessen, he glanced up at Time, looking for confirmation.

"Yeah he's asleep." Time stated.

"He didn't fall asleep. He passed out." Legend pointed out.

"Hopefully he’ll be more aware when he wakes.” Time told the group.

“I knew you all were young when you pulled the sword but…” Twilight trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“We all were too young, no one is denying that.” Warriors spoke softly.

“They just… took him away? Forever?” Sky spoke in disbelief.

“Sounds like it.” Four nodded, eyes dazed and lost in thought.

“It’s too late to change the past.” Time spoke, voice rough and full of regret. “But Twilight is right. We have each other now.” The other Links looked a little comforted, but they still dwelled on what they just saw.

“Will he be like that again when he wakes up again?” Wind asked, sad at the thought of seeing his friend like that once more.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, I’m hoping some time asleep will help his mind reset.” Twilight said as he shifted Wild to be more comfortable for the both of them.

“Should we set up his bed roll?” Warriors offered.

“I don’t think he should wake up alone.” Twilight told him, trying to look down at the boy curled into him. Wild wouldn’t really be waking up alone per say, being surrounded by other heros and all, but Twilight didn’t want him to wake in a panic without Twilight knowing right away.

“I don’t think he’s gonna let go anyways.” Legend smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I know you all probably aren’t tired, but we should decide watches and think about getting to bed soon, or at least settle in.” Time made sure to look pointedly at Twilight.

“If he doesn’t feel up to travel, we shouldn’t make him.” Sky spoke up. WHile he was eager to get to his home, it wasn’t worth it if Wild would be miserable.

“We’ll have to see how he is tomorrow before we make plans.” Time agreed, before turning to Twilight. “You need help getting him settled?” Time offered.

“Nah, I got him.” Twilight told him, attempting to get up. But between Wild’s octorak limbs, the unsteady terrain, and the odd position, he barely got off the ground before plopping back down.

“Uhh maybe a little.”

By the time they got Twilight’s bedroll down, Wild was still clinging to him in his deep slumber.

“He really isn’t gonna let you go.” Four joked with a strained smile.

“When you don’t know what’s real, you look for something to cling to.” Legend spoke with an obvious air of experience, eyes distant.

“I just hope he’s alright.” Sky’s concerned frown hadn’t lifted.

“He will be. Perhaps a bit of misplaced embarrassment and guilt, but we can sort through everything in the morning.” Warriors stated confidently.

With Warriors as the first watch, and the sun long past set, the group settled in. Not many tried to sleep right away, some turned to their quieter hobbies like writing or carving. Many glancing at Wild often to ensure he was still alright. Time helped Twilight and Wild settle into the older’s bedroll.

“Do you need anything, Pup?” Time asked, covering both boys with a blanket and ignoring Twilight’s protests to ‘stop babying him’.

“I think we’re fine.” Twilight said back.

“I asked if you needed something.” Time squinted his eye.

“I’m okay, Time, really. Just worried.” Twilight replied, more convincing this time around.

“I know, Pup, but if Wild isn;t alone, you aren’t either. This isn’t all on you.” Time looked into Twilight’s eyes, seeing a mess of emotions swirling in his dark blue eyes.

“Thanks, Time.” This round the message got through better, and time was grateful.

“Anytime.” Instead of moving away, Time settled on a nearby log, keeping all the boys clear in his sight.

“Time?” Twilight called.

“Yes, Pup?” Time checked over the two once again.

“The same goes for you.” Twilight told him, referring to their previous conversation. “‘This isn’t all on you.’” Twilight smirked as he threw Time’s words back at him.

“Thanks, Pup.” Time smirked at Twilight’s sass.

He wondered where Twilight got that from.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Time: Wow. I finally have the chance to relax!

The Universe: Lol sike.

I know Wild being taken away doesn’t quite match with BOTW canon/AoC canon, but I thought it was an interesting idea to explore.

I enjoy how this turned out, so this may be a part of my Hero of Wild series one day, but this is pretty far ahead of where that series is right now.

I’m also probably going to have to rearrange my timeline and rewrite some stuff to make sense, but that will come later :)

Also I’m not saying to pour hot water on burns, that's just something my old fashioned cowboy family says, and something a lot of people in ye olden days did. It helps with sunburns and minor burns, not so much major burns.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #wild #warriors #time #legend #four #hyrule #sky #twilight #wind #wild centric #fluff #angst #panic attack #omg I forgot to tag this oh no #QoL Story

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

Text

When Our Hands Next Meet

Series summary: Soulmates are given memories of their past lives when their hands touch. For Virgil and Logan, each memory is happier than the last.

This series was created for @analogicalweek and made in collaboration with the lovely @birdsongisland! Please go look at the wonderful piece they did with this and support them with reblogs so their work can be seen!

All the credit to birdsongisland as well for beta reading this!! It wouldn't have come out half as well without them ^-^

Chapter 3: Lay With Me

Chapter Summary: Having a soulbond means sharing dreams- and nightmares. Logan and Virgil comfort each other with hopes for their future.

Day 3 Prompt: Nightmares/Dreams

Warnings: implied death mention, nightmares, claustrophobia. If there are others please let me know!

WC: 2109

AO3 link

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @ace-in-a-shopping-cart @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi @logans-library @im-an-anxious-wreck @edupunkn00b

It was hot and dark and close and loud.

The sharp clanks of pickaxes piercing his ears combined with the sparks flashing in his eyes made his head spin with overstimulation. His hands and arms are numb as the constant vibrations of his own tool send prickling shock waves up his arms. No matter how tightly he would tie the respirator mask, the attempt to seal out the dust flying in the air was in vain as he could practically feel each particle rip its way through his throat and settle in his heaving chest. Still he worked- legs shaking, arms heavy with blackness threatening to snuff out the weak light of his head lamp if ever he grew too comfortable in his precarious position. The general din of tools slamming against rock, raspy hum of those few who could stand to carry a tune and the bark of supervisors pounded against his skull but for all the distractions he could swear he still heard the ominous creak of the wooden support beams beginning to buckle under the weight of the tons of earth above them.

It was a job with risks but one of the only ones he could find readily available and had taken it without a moment's thought when faced with the choice of that or living on the streets. It barely paid a decent enough wage to build up their savings but if it put food on the table at the end of the day he found it hard to complain. He was often described as a victim of circumstance, doomed to the heavy labor of mining for the coal industry for the rest of his days unless by some miracle he managed to find something better. Everything around him was owned by the industry- even the store he bought his overpriced bread from- but everyday he made his way home and was greeted with a warm dinner and an even warmer smile, promises of something better spoken on lips that pressed against his still dusty cheek. So he took a step forward in the claustrophobic darkness and took another swing that just barely broke off anything usable from the wall in front of him and hoped that today when he went home his dreams of something better would finally become a reality.

His next swing was punctuated by a crack that echoes through the low tunnel he was working in, making him squint in confusion at the wall that up until this point had remained stubbornly solid. Another loud crack sounded to his right just as he felt thin trickles of dirt rain down on his helmet from above. He knew what this was- had read about it and been in adjacent tunnels enough to recognize the beginnings of a cave-in- but he knew even before he dropped his tool and yelled out a warning as he started sprinting towards the entrance that it was too late. Desperate screams and warnings swirled around him to mix with the ever more frequent cracks and heart stopping sounds of splintering wood. He wasn’t fast enough, he couldn’t dare hope to compete with the will of earth this deep underground. Dust rose up as the walls began to buckle and cave, debris from the ceiling blinding him and turning him around even as he tried desperately to claw his way out- real exit be damned.

He ended up by one of the only walls still left standing, workers shoving past in an attempt to not be left behind. The exit was already gone as was most of the cave they had been hauling great piles of coal and dirt out of for the past month. He couldn’t see his feet and realized with a start that dirt was pouring around him at a quicker rate than he had cared to notice in his panic, cementing him in place while the support beams above him moaned and splintered. He hardly had time to close his eyes and send out a quick and silent goodbye to the one waiting for him at home before the beams snapped, dirt filling his grave and leaving nothing but a blanket of sudden calm in the wake of disaster.

-----

Logan shot up in bed, breath coming out in sharp gasps as he threw the blankets to the floor and fumbled with the oil lamp on the bedside table. Seeing the warm glow hardly helped setted his nerves, merely reminding him he was in fact in his apartment in bed and not underground with nothing but a few poorly secured sticks holding up the earth above him. Something stirred beside him and he was quick to turn around, placing a calm hand on the cheek of his soulmate who’s eyes snapped open at the touch, panic evident in his sleep deprived gaze.

“You didn’t tell me you were having those dreams again.” Logan murmured kindly, laying on his side as he stroked Virgil’s cheeks. His husband puffed them out in something that resembled a pout, the leftover fear from his nightmare ruining the effect.

“I hate that you see them too. You don’t work in the mines, you shouldn’t have to live them.” One of the upsides- or downsides depending on how you looked at it- of having a soulmate was dream sharing. Whether it was of your most pleasant memories to your most gruesome thoughts, dreams were shared and projected regardless of proximity so that one would always have their soulmate close in a sense. This meant, however, that Virgil’s increased anxiety over being caught in a cave-in with no way of getting back to Logan was easily shared with him no matter how hard he tried to hide it, which infuriated Virgil but made Logan increasingly concerned about being able to leave the town for something better before something actually did happen.

And now they were here, their chests still heaving from the unused adrenaline and looking at each other as if either one of them had the answers they so desperately wanted.

“Do you require space to calm down? I can scrounge up some tea.” Logan wasn’t sure if they actually had any in the house but if they didn’t he’d think of something. Comforting Virgil after dreams like this was always his first priority.

“You experienced the same thing as I did just now. You’re allowed to ask for comfort for yourself.” Virgil gave him a stern look, the effect somewhat ruined by the soft smile still playing on his lips.

“I know but-”

“Logan.” Virgil sighed and reached for his shoulder, flipping them around and somehow managing not to tangle the blankets as he went. “Just come and lay with me.”

Logan had to admit he liked this solution much better, tucking himself snugly under Virgil’s chin and feeling his strong arms wrap around him in the way that always made him feel safe and secure no matter the circumstance. Smiling he snuggled in further and wrapped his own arms around Virgil, trapping his hands in the warm pocket between his back and the sheets. Gradually they both relaxed completely, even as Logan's mind raced and a frown eventually carved its way onto his face. Hoping to hide it he buried his face against Virgil’s chest, earning a kiss to the top of his head for his efforts even if a moment later he was being booped in the same spot by something that he couldn’t quite place in his half asleep jumble of thoughts.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Virgil murmured, prompting Logan to look up and roll his eyes at the stuffed shark not two inches from his nose. Penny the Shark was something they had used back before they figured out how to voice their thoughts as something silly to talk to that didn’t put as much pressure on either of them when it came to speaking about messier things- something Virgil had nervously brought up as a possibility and Logan had immediately agreed to. They hardly needed it now, this far into their relationship, but sometimes it was a nice reminder that there wasn’t any pressure to know how to voice what was bothering you or even know what was wrong in the first place. Plus, Logan mused, it was an extremely adorable sight seeing a half asleep but blushing Virgil hide his face with a bright purple and cartoonishly blushing stuffed shark.

“I’m just thinking of the job I applied for. If I can get it we can start saving up and finally leave. There’d be no reason for you to risk your life in the mines and I could actually help support us instead of you having to do everything.”

Virgil laughed. “And what job would I have if I left the mines?”

“You’re good at whittling.” Logan said immediately. “You can paint- and barring all that you’ve worked heavy labor jobs most of your life, I doubt you’d have trouble finding someone who would hire you for that alone when you’re ready to work again.”

Virgil hummed thoughtfully, bopping the shark up and down and making Logan wrinkle his nose where it kept booping the tip. Loathe to move his chin and ruining his view of the man underneath him he instead freed an arm from its confines and stole the shark away, turning it against his former attacking and viciously tapping his nose with the soft toy. Giggling Virgil ducked beneath it and squeezed him just a bit tighter, bringing him up enough to steal a chaste kiss from the other man, earning a small squeak for his efforts. He grinned as Logan buried his face back into his shirt, grumbling obscenities while cuddling the shark into their sides. Cupping the back of Logan’s head, Virgil gently twirled the hairs around his fingers and hummed softly, staring at the dark ceiling until his eyes began to droop.

“We’ll figure it out, Lo.” He mumbled sleepily. “We’ll have a house with a big porch and an actual yard and neither of us will dream of anything except the kids from your future classroom and the garden we plan on growing in the spring. It’ll just be us with no anxiety or obligations past being happy in our own little bubble.”

He thought he heard Logan make a noise of agreement but he couldn’t be sure, drifting off even as the words left his lips. He had hope things would get better, he always did, with Logan especially he couldn’t imagine a future he wasn’t happy in.

-----

“You’ve been working on that one all day, what is it?”

Virgil looked up from the block wood he had been whittling down to a curve for the better part of the afternoon, finally having gotten the angle right and most of the details etched out. It was a bit crude for his liking and his knives definitely needed sharpening at some point but it wasn’t one he was planning on selling so it was more the thought than the final product that mattered anyway. Holding it up so Logan could see he smiled sheepishly. “It’s Penny. Thought it’d be nice to have something to remember her by.”

Penny the shark had been one of the casualties from their old home, having been burned down in the process of them moving out of it. They were both incredibly grateful that Logan had gotten the job teaching at the nearby university and they had transferred most of their things to the new house before the casualty but as silly as it was the loss still stung, and Logan smiled as he sat down next to his soulmate on their new porch. He hid a grin behind his drink as he watched Virgil’s tongue stick out in concentration, carving out a couple of fins along the bottom of the curve. He knew if he mentioned it Virgil would blush and be flustered and as fun as that was to see he really just wanted to watch him happily creating in his own little world.

It was such a far cry from how things used to be and Logan appreciated how far they were able to come from something he had never been sre they could work themselves out of. But now they were here, with Virgil safe and happy selling creative wares and Logan finally able to teach after years of study and searching for a position. Sitting back he closed his eyes and drank in the peaceful air around them, content to be met with darkness since he was already living his dream with the man he loved.

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#false writes #analogicalweek #analogical week #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #virgil sanders #analogical #tw nightmares #tw death mention #tw claustrophobia #hurt/comfort #logan x virgil #ao3 #collab

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stevesharrlngtons · 4 years

Note

108. Go ahead, baby, I got plenty of time. + Roman 🖤

prompt requests open

“We just have one more stop…” Roman trailed off, ducking his head down to peer up through the windshield at the fast passing scenery.

Roman had insisted on taking you out to dinner that night, to the nicest restaurant Hemlock Grove had to offer. With plush velvet chairs and pricey cuts of meat and aged whiskey and wines. He made a show of holding your hand on the tabletop, fiddling with your fingers during conversations, cupping your palm gently while he ate. When he needed both hands for something, he’d only part for for a moment, before quickly resuming his previous grip.

After two delicious courses and fifty dollar sundaes with rich espressos, you’d both left feeling fat and happy. You were idly discussing plans for the weekend, when Roman took a right down Main Street instead of a left that would lead to the Godfrey Mansion.

“Is this finally it?” You asked, “Is this where you finally kill me?”

Roman chuckled, the hand that lay on your thigh gave your exposed skin a squeeze.

“Not just yet,” He mused, flicking on his turn signal to drive deeper a web of backroads and brush.

“Oh thank lord,” You sighed dramatically, “That gives me more time to earn my keep with you.”

Roman snorted and gave you another pulsing squeeze before removing his hand completely to aid his other in turning the wheel of his Jaguar. You could feel the ghost weight of his palm and fingers still tingling your skin.

He had removed his hand to steer into a sharp turn onto a long gravel road flanked by a lumbering sea of trees. You looked out the passenger window to see the blur of passing greenery and couldn’t help but wonder what Roman was up to. He wasn’t a fan of the outdoors, openly scoffing at the idea of hikes and camping trips. He didn’t like public bodies of water or picnics anywhere but artistically groomed parks. While your murder joke had been just that, you wondered if Roman had in fact killed someone and they were folded in the trunk, waiting for the both of you to dig a hole in the middle of nowhere Pennslynia to dispose of them… You’d have to dig two holes if that were true. You’d strangle Roman to death if he made you dig a grave in heels and a brand new dress.

Just as you were about to seriously inquire on what in the living fuck you two were doing out in the woods, Roman turned once more, which placed you both in front of a massive home. Smaller than the encompassing Godfrey estate, but large nonetheless. This home was much more angular, modern, with a much more muted color palette.

Roman put the car in park and removed the keys from the ignition and simply stared at you. Utterly confused as to why you were at this mystery house was your final destination of the night, you just raised your eyebrows with a shake of your head.

“Well, let’s get out.” He said frankly, before opening his door and stepping out into the cold.

You followed his actions, though you were still completely puzzled by his behavior and the reason for this visit. When you exited the car, Roman extended his hand out for you to take, which you did without hesitation.

“C’mon,” He gestured with his head to the house and you both started to walk up the drive to the entrance.

“Do you know who lives here?” You asked, glancing around for any neighbors or the owners.

“You could say that.” Roman replied with a glint in his eyes, before he began to rummage through his pockets.

“You’re being awful cryptic…” You laugh uncomfortably as Roman procedures a set of keys, which he uses to open the front door.

Roman pushed it open with an effort so it swung wide open to reveal the entire first floor; the entire first floor that was completely empty.

Roman said nothing as he guided you by the hand across the threshold. The sound of the soles of your shoes echoed through the house as you both walked across spotless hardwood. The house smelt like fresh paint and industrial glue.

The home was open concept and extremely modern, something you would no doubt spy on the pages of a magazine. While it felt a bit cold, you saw so much potential all around.

“Do you like it?” Roman asked as he looked at you while your eyes scanned the bare home.

“I mean -- yes. It’s beautiful. Is it a new place for The Tower or something? Like housing for clients or patients or something?” You said, eyes still inspecting the marble countertops and printine fixtures.

“No, not exactly.” Roman swallowed thickly, so loud that you could hear him.

You stopped your wandering and looked at Roman, who suddenly seemed nervous. Not in a sniveling, shaking, sweating way. Roman could never look anything but dignified and regal. But, his eyes were narrowed and blinking, his jaw was clenched and his shoulders squared as if he were waiting for the worst.

“I, uh, I actually bought this place. Out of pocket, not for Godfrey. I bought it for us.”

Us.

At the mention your eyes grew as large as dinner plates and your stomach dropped to your feet.

“What?” You asked, completely baffled.

“Yeah, I found it a few months ago and just closed escrow last week. It’s ours. I bought it for us to live in.”

You opened your mouth multiple times, lips flapping like a fish as you tried to form words to reply to him with.

“Fuck, do you hate it? Shit, fuck! OK, baby, just hear me out --” But you cut him off.

Because you couldn’t find the words to tell him how happy you were, so your lips on his right now would have to suffice. You crushed your mouth to his and wound your shaking fingers in his hair, making sure he couldn’t move an inch away from your affections. Roman made a small grunt at the impact, but quickly recovered, taking a healthy grip of your ass as he kissed you back with fervor.

When you did finally pull apart from your heated kiss, both of you with labored breaths, you had tears on your cheeks.

“I love it, Ro. I love it, so much. I can’t believe you did this for us.” You sniffled and Roman preened.

“For you. For us to move on and start over. Away from that fucking mansion and all the pain it’s caused. It’s just us from now on,” He said, taking your face in his hands.

You hiccuped with a large smile, elated.

Sure, some people might be angry that their partner bought a home without their knowing, but you didn’t care. You just loved the fact that Roman had thought of your collective future, of your new little family, of the love he had for you. You were high off of the adrenaline of surprise and the giddy bubble in your chest from Roman’s spoiling.

“I love you,” You cooed before kissing him once more.

It wasn’t really a kiss, more of you both just both pressing your smiles together to properly convey your happiness in the moment.

“Can we look around?” You knew Roman had work early the next morning.

“Go ahead, baby, we got plenty of time.” He grinned, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You squealed with excitement, practically bouncing in your Manolos as you took Roman’s hand and started for the stairs.

Roman went willingly, his arms straight as an arrow as you drug him around the house, chirping about art galleries, landscaping and antique dealers. He simply nodded and watched you with loving affection, his chest puffed out from the feeling of making you so happy, from the feeling of providing for you, for doing something right.

He watched with his heart in his throat as you began to plan your future together.

#sorry this took a while i was feeling really uninspired #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgård imagine #bill skarsgard imagine #stevesharrlngtonswrites

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letstalkaboutshtufff · 4 years

Text

Obi Wan x Padawan Reader Never Lie to Me

Pairing: Sith Obi Wan Kenobi x padawan reader

Summary : Reader misplaces something important and tries to find it before her Master can find out.

Warnings: language, sexual themes, *slight smut*

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

Hello my loves! Ok so I absolutely love Sith obi wan but for some reason I struggle to write him. I tried something and hopefully it's not complete trash like I think it is lol anywaaaaaaays enjoy😚

18+ readers only!

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

Oh this was bad...this was very very bad....

Okay y/n don't freak out, you can hide this! You can totally hide this!!

Fuck no you couldn't

You groaned sliding down the wall of your chambers. How could you be so stupid?! Losing your lightsaber like that?! Did you have a death wish?!

You could only imagine how enraged your master would be.. you shook your head violently dissipating the horrible thoughts.

No no no, it would not come to that becasue you would find it. It probably fell somewhere by your speeder. Yeah it's there for sure.....probably.....

Sighing you stood up and grabbed a cloak to cover your hip and the usual missing weapon spot that hung there.

You couldn't help but imagine all the horrible scenarios that ran through your mind if Master kenobi found out.

One included merciless unending training, not letting you rest for even a moment.

Another image had you bent over his knee whilst he.... ughhh you could already feel the sting.

Your master and you had a...unique relationship to say the least... he was your master in the ways of the dark side, so you had a strict student master dynamic during training.

He took your training very seriously, leaving little room for error. But as some point his punishments got more....creative..

You couldn't help but feel your face heat up remembering that time you screwed up a mission and he saw to your reprimanding. From then on your relationship became more....personal.

He didnt give you any special treatment, and didnt allow any distractions during training. But the times after training...when he would call you to his chambers and.....

You couldn't help but feel your heart skip a beat, or two, or twenty, and you couldn't help but to recall those moments..

That scent...

Those whispers..

His fingers.....

"What are you thinking about?" A smooth voice cut through your indecent thoughts like butter. You whipped around startled that the man in question was now standing right behind you.

Quickly you made sure your shields were up, something you had made sure to refine. You didnt want him hearing all your dirty thoughts during training...

"I-I was just thinking about the mission.." you took a step back trying to regain your composure. Why did you always manage to act like a floundering idiot when he was around?!

"Hmm, is it really the mission that has you so flustered?" He mused stepping closer.

"Or something else?"he smirked knowingly.

Bastard, he must've read my thoughts before I realized he was here...

"It's-" you attempted to change the subject before he cut you off.

"And I know you know better than to lie to me don't you?" He said slightly more serious. A familiar dark edge to his voice.

You gulped, "Yes master..."

"I was thinking of other things..." you trail off averting your gaze hoping he wouldnt make you say it out loud.

Although he'd technically seen you naked quite a few times now, you still felt so embarrassed regarding anything or your "intimate moments". This was due mostly to the many embarrassing things he made you do....well ok to be fair you didnt REALLY try to stop him...but the second those moments were over you could barely look him in the eyes.

You felt those familiar warm finger gently lift your chin. You met his deep gaze,

"Speaking of other things...you did rather well on the mission, we were able to conquer the planet thanks to your efforts, so I suppose a reward is in order...dont you agree darling?" He whispered the last part in your ear making you shiver slightly.

Oh how you enjoyed those rewards of his...quite possibly the only time he would treat you gently. Well there were those times he wasnt so gentle either...actually maybe you liked those more...

AH WAIT WHAT AM I DOING, I NEED TO FIND MY SABER!!

You place you hands on his chest and gently push.

"A-actually master I wondered if I might have your permission to leave the ship I..wanted too...look around a bit more before we have to leave!" You hurriedly came up with an excuse.

He stepped back, eyeing you for a moment before nodding his approval, "Alright, be back before nightfall" he warned and continued walking down the hall.

As soon as he was out of sight you let out a sigh of relief. Hopefully he bought that story. You quickly made your way to the ship's exit and onto the lush planet known as Misano.

Normally you would've liked a chance to explore and maybe even sneak some souvenirs back. But you had no time for that now. If you didnt find that saber soon you were toast. And it didnt help that Misano turned from a tropical paradise to a frozen tundra trap by nightfall. It was truly a unique planet.

But you could admire it another time, preferably when your life wasn't on the line...

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

You looked up at the setting sky as dread washed over you. You had scoured and searched for your blasted saber for hours but it was no use. You had retraced your steps multiple times and even question some of the citizens to see if they knew anything.

You didnt want to even humor the idea but now it was the most likely truth. Some lowlife had probably picked it up and would soon be rolling in credits.

You pulled your cloak tighter around you as the wind started to pick up. You knew you should start to head back before it got too cold but honestly freezing to death sounded better than whatever punishment you master would enforce...

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

You were now full on shivering as you made your way back to the ship. The sun had set long ago and you now knew why everyone kept warning you to get inside. Your boots the only reason you could trudge through the many layers of snow.

You must've questioned every suspicious looking citizen however no luck. Your saber was probably gone forever and on top of that punishment you were sure your master was going to be angry that you disobeyed and stayed out later than he permissed.

Ughh I should just let myself freeze over...

Another half an hour later you finally made it back to the ship. Immediately you dragged yourself through the halls to your room and ordered your droid servant to run a hot bath. You were extremely lucky that master kenobi hadn't spotted you yet.

You could barely feel anything and felt horribly tired. Even the steam rising from afar felt like heaven as it reached your frost bitten skin.

You removed your practically stiff cloak but had no energy for the rest so you plopped fully clothed into the steaming water, immediately sighing in relief as you slowly felt feeling returning to all parts of your body.

You rested your head back and took a deep breath, inhaling the warm air.

*achoo* fuck...

you could already feel your nose becoming stuffed and there was a slight scratch in your throat. Perfect, getting sick was just what you needed.

After you were fully warmed up, you drained the water and lazily wrapped a fluffy towel around you. You felt the exhaustion of the mission plus everything afterwards tenfold as soon as your body hit the mattress.

You spread out lazily letting the cool sheets relax your now warmed body, covers discarded on the floor.

Your eyes drooped slowly closed once, focused on the space by the end of your bed, you tried to fight off sleep but it was proving difficult,

You opened them but slowly they drooped closed again,

The third time however you saw a blurry outline of a man.

"M-master!" Like a rocket you sat up, heart beating out of your chest. You quickly pulled up the towel over your chest.

"Y-you scared me..." You placed a hand over your beating chest trying to catch your breath. You had been too tired to even sense him coming.

He stood with his arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. "I distinctly remember telling you to be back before dark did I not?" He stepped closer until he was right at the end of the bed.

Oh Crap hes mad.... you sat up a little straighter trying to ignore the fact you were practically naked in front of him.

"I'm sorry master, the time got away from me..." your mouth feeling unnaturally dry as the lie left your lips.

You hated lying to him. Well you hated what usually happened when you lied to him and he found out....

He eyed you silently before leaning over the bed intimidatingly close. He leaned next to your ear before speaking,

"You're lying" a dangerous edge to his voice now

You felt your heart stop and a rush of panic fill you. Fuck fuck fuck.

Slowly he came back into view.

His eyes were a threatning color now. A silent deadly warning to choose your next words carefully. You had just broken his one rule. And he knew...

You felt a million emotions running through you. Fear, for getting caught breaking his most important rule. Shame for being stupid enough to lose something so important. And Guilt for lying to the one person you never ever wanted to lie too...

"Ah I-I'm Sorry!!" You blurted out suddenly. "I-I didn't mean too! But so much was going on with the mission!! A-and I must've been distracted and I swear I tried master I really did! B-but no one knew anything and then it started getting dark and cold a-and I didnt know what to do so I came back, but I didnt want you to be disappointed or mad so I didnt tell you the truth and I'm so so so sorry!!" You bowed your head breathing heavily, hardly realizing that your explanation made no sense. Your eyes shut tightly shielding you from his whatever horrible expression he surely had on his face.

A few moments of dreadful silence passed before you felt him shift.

"Look at me" you barely felt the ghostly touch of his fingers guide your chin up.

You sucked in a nervous breathe when you realized you were only inches from his face. His eyes were dark and penetrating. Whenever he looked at you like this you felt completely exposed. Like he could see right through your soul.

"Now calm down and tell me the truth little one" he said dangerously calm. Sometimes that was even scarier then when he yelled...

Taking a deep breathe you gathered your wits and with a deeply ashamed tone you confessed, "I lost my lightsaber.." you could feel burning at the corner of your eyes but you continued through it, "I looked for it everywhere but..." you looked down again dejectedly. What a dumb apprentice I am.. hes probably so disappointed in me.. "I'm sorry Master.."

You waited for what felt like hours until he spoke, "I know" he said in an even tone.

Your eyes shot open in surprise, "w-what?"

"How many times must I remind you nothing happens without me knowing about it."

"So then..." he knew you were lying all along...

"Yes my apprentice" he grasped your chin slightly harder now but still somehow gentle, "When will you learn..." he slowly ran his thumb over your bottom lip, dragging it down, "that you can't hide anything from me.." he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know..I'm sorry, I was just afrai-" he cut you off with a sharp slap to your thigh.

"What have I told you about lying to me?" he caressed your bare thigh making it harder for you to focus.

"That-that I am never to lie to you...no matter what..." your breath hitched as his hand inched closer across your thigh and to your most sensitive area. However just when he was inches away he abruptly removed all contact.

You immediately felt sad at the loss.

"Exactly, and yet you did exactly that" he nodded his head, "I'm disappointed little one, especially since if you had told the truth..." he reached behind him grabbing something and bringing it forward, "you could've saved yourself alot of trouble"

You let out a gasp, "My saber!!" He let you take it from his grasp, you beamed finally feeling whole again.

"But how did you..?" You asked confused where and how he had found it.

"It fell when you jumped on your speeder during the battle" he explained nodding slightly in exasperation.

So this whole time he had it?! And that means he knew all day that you.....

"I shouldnt have lied" you apologized sincerely. "I just didn't want to disappoint you..especially since I did so well on the mission..." you mustered the best regretful expression you could. "Are you angry with me...?" You couldn't help but ask.

After a moment he smiled slightly, resting his rough palm on your cheek, "No..well not anymore, I was more upset that you risked your health by staying out too long, however I do sense your deep regret, so this time I'll let it slide"

Whoa did I hear that correctly, hes going to let it slide?? My master?? Had he hit his head during battle??

"Thank you Master, I promise it won't happen again" you meant it this time.

"Oh I know it wont pet" you shivered at the pet name he called you. He suddenly force pulled you closer until you were basically straddling him. You let out a shriek.

"Because this time.." he placed a firm hand on the back of your neck pulling you in for a possessive kiss.

He pulled away slightly and you felt his hot breathe by your ear, "I'll make sure you remember what happens when you don't." Suddenly you were on you back, towel thrown across the room.

"Whaa what?! I thought you said I was off the hook?!" You blushed fiercely as he force held your hands and legs to each corner and stood back to admire your helpless form.

He smirked wickedly, "I said you were off the hook for staying out too late.. however..." you gasped as you felt invisible fingers begin to tease your most sensitive area.

"For lying to me.." he eyed you with a gaze now hooded with lust and a dangerous glint, "You will be punished until I am certain you've learned your lesson my darling..."

***************************************************Thanks for reading!! I had alot of trouble writing sith obi wan but I tried my best. Let me know if you guys liked this enough and want to see similar Sith obi wan x apprentice fics. Alsoooo 👀if enough people want a mini 18+ continuation of the *cough* punishment.....lemme know🙈

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closedafterdark · 4 years

Note

you probably have a ton of reqs but if its not 2much trouble could I ask for a johyun titfuck in her lingerie from her photoshoot? tyyy

“And that’s a wrap! Okay everyone, that’s enough for today. Good work!” you say to your staff as you finished taking the final photo of the day. You were recently hired to shoot for Yes Underwear’s newest lingerie releases.

As the staff and crew all thank each other for another successful day of shooting, the muse of your photos comes forward with the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen.

“Think anyone noticed?” she asked, straightening your tie.

“Not a chance. No one knows I’m banging the company’s newest model” you said with a smile as you squeezed her extremely soft bottom.

“Babe! Your hands are so naughty... I like it” Shin Jiwon said to you as she untucked your shirt and slowly began to unbuckle your belt.

“Do you know how angry I got seeing all the male staff drool over these” you said as you squeezed her breasts, causing Jiwon to moan.

“Daddy” she moaned out.

You gently removed her purple jacket and white shorts, leaving her in the black lingerie. Jiwon removed all of your clothing quickly, leaving you fully exposed in front of her as she licked her lips with anticipation.

“Let’s get daddy prepared, shall we?” her voice at a soft volume as you fall in love with her eye smile. Jiwon kneels down and takes you in her hand, pumping delightfully as your painfully erect cock is excited to see her.

“Mmm, look at how hard you are for mommy” Jiwon said, a sly smile painted on her face.

Jiwon gave your cock slow, gentle strokes. She built up the pleasure gradually, listening with delight at your soft moans as she pumps you up and down.

“Does that feel good, daddy?” Jiwon asked, grinning from ear to ear. She knew how easy it was to tease you, the first time she gave you a slow and delicate handjob, she edged you for several hours, causing you to explode like a cum fountain.

Jiwon giggled as she spat on your cock a few times, lubricating it as her tongue went to your slit and collected the now leaking precum.

“Look at how fucking hard my little monster is for me” Jiwon said, her tongue swirling around your sensitive head, puckering her lips as she gave it deep kisses, but teasing you by not taking you inside her mouth just yet.

“I get so wet whenever you moan” Jiwon said, looking at you sweetly as she continued stroking your cock. Your precum continued leaking out. More and more time went by, Jiwon using her tongue dragging it up and down the entirety of your length.

She continued teasing you, her tongue exploring every inch of you as she ran a delicate finger across the head of your cock. She gave you more strokes until she released it, making it plop against your stomach as her tongue licked you from balls to tip with at an agonizingly slow pace.

Jiwon was finally ready to suck your cock. She grabbed a scrunchie from her wrist and tied her hair seductively into a loose ponytail as she grabbed your cock once more and parted her pretty lips with your head.

You groaned, breathing deeply as Jiwon’s assault on your cock felt so good. You knew Jiwon never enjoyed teasing for a short amount of time, as she removed her panties and shimmied them down her beautiful long legs.

Jiwon’s blowjobs were no joke. She’s made you cum quickly more times than you could count. The fact that it was in a public setting and not your bedroom made you speechless, her pace painfully slow. Jiwon’s hands gripped your thighs firmly as her head bobbed ever so gently on your tip.

You didn’t mind whenever she sucked your cock slow, but taking photos of her all day in outfits you wanted her to wear in the bedroom made you want to push her head all the way down your cock. You knew if you did that, she would edge you even worse for the next several days at home.

“Does daddy feel good?” she asked, stroking your shaft and peppering it with kisses.

You grunted as a response, annoyed at how much she was teasing you. Jiwon giggled softly.

“Let’s make you feel even better then” Jiwon said, kissing your tip as she reaches behind her and unhooks her large bra. She now kneeled before you fully exposed, her beautiful large tits ready for your cock. They were so soft, sometimes you would use them as pillows after you two finished having sex.

You let out another loud moan as you feel Jiwon’s soft flesh wrap themselves around you. She spit on your slightly wet cock several more times to help with lubrication.

Jiwon always found the perfect balance between making you cum a lot and doing just enough that you had cum stored up in between sessions.

As she took your cock between her tits, you noticed her titfuck wasn’t the same agonizing pace her blowjob was. Jiwon smiled happily as she squeezed the life out of your cock and titfucked you at a fast pace. She placed her hands on both tits to ensure you were deep inside her cleavage.

The first time Jiwon titfucked you was inside a store fitting room. She fucked you quietly but at a fast pace, making you cum in her mouth to make sure there was no trace of your naughty actions.

Jiwon was very well endowed, one of the biggest from the women you’ve dated so far. You watched as her soft, round breasts swallowed your cock whole. She stuck her tongue out to give your tip licks, your toes curling from how good the pleasure was.

“Daddy likes mommy’s big tits, doesn’t he?” she asked, listening with delight at your loud moans as her tits enveloped your cock.

“I really do, mommy” you said.

Your tip was swelling, ready to burst at any moment. You felt yourself leaking onto her delicious looking cleavage. Regretfully, Jiwon removes your cock from her soft flesh.

“Can’t having you cum just yet, daddy” Jiwon said as she turned around, her powerful thighs and extremely soft ass facing you.

“Now it’s time to see how deep your hard cock will go inside my pussy”

She moans loudly as you line up your tip with her lips, parting them open as you enter her. She smiles in delight as you slam your body into hers, every inch of your throbbing cock being wrapped around her warm, wet walls.

“Fuck...” she moans.

You started off slow, giving Jiwon’s pussy time to adjust to your cock.

“Don’t tease me, daddy. Pound the fuck out of your cumslut” Jiwon said.

You complied, upping the pace a bit at a time until your momentum causes you to go full speed inside her. Jiwon screamed as your cock disappeared between her wet lips, your cock being coated with her love juices every time it entered her warm hole.

“Fuck... that’s so good. You feel so amazing inside me, daddy” Jiwon moaned as you squeezed her extremely soft asscheeks, spanking each one until they were painted a bright shade of red and imprinted your palms.

The sounds of your flesh colliding filled the room as both of you moaned loudly with lust.

“God, you’re so deep. Fuck me harder!”

You turn Jiwon around, laying down as she is now facing you while your cock is still deep inside her. You caress her breasts as her tight walls slam on your dick. You worship them as she rides you, squeezing both fleshy mounds.

Jiwon screamed when you took her pretty pink nipples into your mouth. You did everything to them: lick, suck, slurp, nibble. Jiwon was going crazy with desire, her pussy clamping onto your dick as you felt her getting even wetter. You slapped her tits, massaging them while she moaned.

Her head tilted back, as you smiled at her losing herself to your cock. She slammed herself again and again on your cock, lust in her eyes as she rode you. Her pussy was squeezing the life out of your dick, letting you both know her orgasm was fast approaching.

“Fuck... I’m cumming!” she screamed as her body shakes intensely. Her moans strung through the quiet area one after the other as she rides out her orgasm. Your cock and thighs are completely drenched by her juices.

“Fuck... daddy that was so intense” Jiwon said in the softest whisper you ever heard from her.

She tries her beast to recover from her orgasm, riding you slowly as you grab handfuls of her ass, helping her bounce on your dick. You wait until just the tip is inside her before slamming her back down.

Jiwon screamed and you moaned as you both created a new rhythm for yourselves. You slap her ass as she rides you, filling every inch of her needy pussy with your cock. She was even messier post orgasm, Jiwon was never satisfied with just one. She moaned as you fucked her. The loud slaps of your bodies filled the room as you deeply thrusted into her.

“Daddy, are you close? You have to be with how tight this slut’s pussy is” She said, teasing you to cum immediately.

She takes back control and bounces fiercely on your cock. You tilted your head back and groaned, you wanted to remain inside her forever.

“Jiwon... baby, I’m about to cum”

“Cum inside me, daddy!” she screamed.

You watched as Jiwon happily bounced on your cock as she helped you reach your orgasm. You yelled as your pulsating shaft explodes inside her wet walls, triggering her own orgasm. Hot, thick strands of semen filled her as you pounded her until you felt there was nothing left to give.

#asks #berry good johyun smut #johyun smut #johyun

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satonthelotuspier · 4 years

Text

Truly Indomitable

I’m still here! Honestly, I’m still writing, I just haven’t posted much to tumblr recently for various reasons. I’m still quite active on twitter and AO3 though, for anyone who’s interested, links on my blog header.

That being said, I finally got around to writing the post canon golden core rejection fic I talked about many moons ago. This is endgame Xicheng with some Yunmeng Shuangjie reconciliation (because once you’ve written one rec, you need to write more). There is a pre-fic to this I wrote for the Untamed Spring Fest back in April or May, its been so long I can’t remember when it was (2020 has been A Year right?) but the odds of me being able to find it with tumblr like it is...(it’s series linked on AO3 if anyone is interested)

15k+ words with a happy ending.

Introducing Jiang Cheng’s Vipers.

CW for: Body dysphoria, blood, past torture, MC peril, discussions on death.

“Jiang-zongzhu!” Jiang Cheng heard the call, and ducked behind a tree to avoid one of myriad people who had been bustling for his attention over the past day.

Was there little wonder, with the kind of hassle he was subjected to when attending conferences like this, he was virtually becoming a hermit in Lotus Pier most of the time?

If it wasn’t sect leaders looking to curry favour, or arrange marriages with their daughters (even though he was officially persona non gratis in the eyes of most female cultivators now, due to one or two...unfortunate – yet highly convenient...mishaps,) it was Wei Wuxian and his horde of adoring ducklings, after permission for Jin Ling to join them on this adventure or that adventure. As if the little shit didn’t do as he pleased and paid no attention to Jiang Cheng’s opinions, anyway.

Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, his nephew was the Jin sect leader now, after all, and if he could continue to show that kind of spine in that role, all the better.

He froze, his musings halted, as his body temperature rose suddenly, and he automatically dropped to the ground, placing the bottle of contraband Emperor’s Smile beside him, and tried to clear his mind.

He rarely got much pre-warning when it happened, but he never had, and twenty or so years later, he was more than used to dealing with it.

It began with the increase in temperature, and then the qi began to roll through his channels, burning like fire as it surged and flowed, molten and rampant.

It was the usual mixture of meditation methods Lei Shirong, his sect physician, had vaunted, and force of implacable will, that he eventually quelled the tide, though he knew it was becoming harder and harder for him to gain control as time went by.

He had suffered periodically from the same issue since he had been a young man.

He had initially thought the problem was attributable to the fact he had been given a new golden core, and he just needed time to grow used to it, it hadn’t been the one he formed himself, after all, and was one Baoshan Sanren had given him, with all the implications that had.

No matter how long he’d waited, however, no matter how much he’d worked to bed the new core in, it had always felt like something alien in his body, something uncomfortable, painful, and always unpredictable. Several times, usually in the midst of battle, where he called on his spiritual energy for extended periods of time, he had completely lost control. Once, he had been saved by Lan Xichen, who had carried him away from a Sunshot campaign battlefield and settled his meridians with his own spiritual energy.

When the fact that it was actually Wei Wuxian’s core, rotating behind is lower dantian, had been revealed, it was like everything clicked into place.

How could the core behave like his own, when it had been formed by his shixiong, who was as different from Jiang Cheng as day was to night?

The fact it had been so many years, and it had still not been fully responsive to him, still felt like a stone in his gut, now made sense to him.

And since the Guanyin Temple, Jiang Cheng had felt it suddenly spiral out of control with much more frequency, and it was becoming harder each time to steady that surging tide of qi.

It had never been meant for his body, so how could it behave as if it had?

How could he control it as if it had?

He placed an open palm against his navel, where the core twisted and churned behind his dantian.

It was only a matter of time now, surely, before it reached the point he couldn’t settle it’s reaction. It wasn’t exactly caused by qi deviation, but he thought the outcome would likely be the same.

Hopefully he had a little more time, to make sure Jin Ling was secure as Jin Sect Leader, and make arrangements for the succession of his clan. There were several promising candidates who he could add to his family registry, to ensure the clan he had given everything for, survived after he was gone. Not least his physician, Lei Shirong, or his head disciple, Yang Hai, or his sister, Yang Mei. All were extremely competent, intelligent members of his sect. All were strong cultivators in their own right. And all were unfailingly loyal to Yunmeng Jiang.

He was climbing back to his feet, intending to return to his accommodations and continue his quest to get drunk, when the strident call of; “Jiang Cheng!” had his hackles rising.

Not Wei Wuxian, not now. He genuinely didn’t think he could face the man knowing his body was making the final move towards rejecting the core his shixiong had sacrificed everything to give him.

Wanted or not, it had cost Wei Wuxian so much, he couldn’t look him in the eye and pretend everything was fine at the moment, so he scooped up the jar of Emperor’s Smile, and slipped carefully deeper into the shadows. He found himself in a courtyard surrounded by residences. They were all dark and unlit, silent, probably empty. It wasn’t yet the designated Lan sleeping time, so he thought he had fallen lucky, and, at the sound of Wei Wuxian’s quick, heavy tread still approaching, he did the only thing possible, and slipped over the windowsill of one of the empty buildings, intending to wait Wei Wuxian out.

He settled himself on the floor next to window, and removed the seal on the jar, tipping it up and taking a deep drink. He might as well wait in style.

“Jiang-zongzhu,” a rich, timbred voice sounded from out of the darkness, and the lamps placed around the room suddenly leapt to life, illuminating the sparsely, yet elegantly, furnished rooms, “it’s very kind of you to drop by, quite literally. Altough, I believe it’s customary to wait to be invited.”

He was frozen for a few beats of his heart, which then began rabbiting in his chest thanks to the shock of hearing a voice from the darkness.

How in the world had he been stupid enough, unlucky enough, to accidentally breach the Hanshi; who’s master was currently in seclusion after the events of the Guanyin Temple?

Could he have made a bigger mistake if he’d tried?

The elder man was currently hidden from his sight, sat behind a screen which partitioned off that side of the rooms, and the gentle click of a tea cup being placed on a lacquered table sounded.

“Lan-zongzhu…” he was about to offer his apologies, but heard Wei Wuxian’s still-loud voice from somewhere outside the Hanshi.

“Jiang Cheng! I know you’re here somewhere.”

Lan Xichen murmured an understanding, “Ah,” then remained silent for a while, until they were both sure Wei Wuxian had moved his search on elsewhere.

“Lan-zongzhu, I apologise unreservedly for intruding on your seclusion.” It was now time for him to salvage what he could out of the encounter, and beg for forgiveness.

There was a few moments before the other answered, “No harm done. Perhaps, if you will, merely stay that side of the screen. I assume you wish to wait a while to ensure Wei-gongzi is well and truly gone?”

He flushed a little at the other reading him so very easily, but there was no use denying he had been avoiding that man, like a coward.

“Then I’ll trouble you for a little while longer.” He couldn’t deny it, however, and there was nothing for it other than to accept the elder man’s generous offer.

He lifted the jar in his hands to take another deep, settling drink. Except he had forgotten…

“Jiang Wanyin, is that Emperor’s Smile that you’re drinking, in the Sect Master of the Lan sect’s private rooms, which you have just breached, without permission?”

Suddenly, he was a fifteen year old boy again, caught in the process of sneaking Emperor’s Smile into the Cloud Recesses with Wei Wuxian, and he felt the flush creep up his neck as he put the earthenware jar back on the floor like it had suddenly become red hot to the touch.

Luckily Lan Xichen couldn’t currently see his blushes of shame.

He also couldn’t see that the jar Jiang Cheng held was Emperors Smile. He could just lie.

But that felt very wrong to him, so he made a non-committal sound, to which Lan Xichen chuckled gently in response.

“Some things never change.” Lan Xichen said, a hint of something like nostalgia in his tone, then; “And some things change completely.” And then he was silent.

Jiang Cheng didn’t feel like breaking that silence. He was, after all, intruding on the man’s seclusion. So he sat there for a while, making no sound. He was therefore surprised when eventually Lan Xichen was the one to speak. He had been on the verge of getting up to leave, but Lan Xichen’s voice made him pause.

“How is Jin Rulan fairing, Jiang-zongzhu?”

Jiang Cheng was thrown, and wasn’t entirely sure how to answer. Well, he obviously knew how Jin Ling was fairing, but he didn’t know how much it would be sensible to refer to the Guanyin Temple, it was, after all, what had driven Lan Xichen into secluded meditation, all those months ago. He played for a little time to order his thoughts.

“How is it I was Jiang-zongzhu, then Jiang Wanyin, then back again, in the space of minutes?”

“Jiang Wanyin.” Lan Xichen took the hint, and settled on the less formal mode of address. Alone together in the Hanshi, it made the most sense.

He had decided, in the precious extra seconds the comment had bought him, that there was no point prevaricating. Once the other exited seclusion, the world couldn't be expected to never bring up the subject in front of him ever again.

“It was a blow to him, no doubt. It’s taken a lot of adjusting for him, and the weight of a sect leader sits heavily on his shoulders, he’s so young…”

Even younger than Lan Xichen had been, than Jiang Cheng had been, when they had taken over their respective clans.

“I thought we were done with a world that forced it’s children to grow up as quickly as we had to, when the Wens fell. That I was party to that…that I enabled it…” there was a catch to his voice.

And there was a part of Jiang Cheng that uncharitably thought Lan Xichen should suffer for his guilt, but that was the part of him that had watched, powerless and vulnerable, in the Guanyin Temple, as everyone in the world that he cared about, was put in danger at the hands of Jin Guangyao. Considering his past, no one could have blamed him for his fear for them.

But he also understood what kind of a person Lan Xichen was, and it was a good person. He had a lot of advantages in life, there wasn’t a doubt about that; he came from one of the richest sects in the world, he was an extremely powerful cultivator, he was impossibly handsome, and he could be whatever he wanted, but he was still a genuinely kind person. And they were so very rare.

He knew, in his heart, that Lan Xichen couldn’t be held accountable for Jin Guangyao’s villainy; the man had fooled the entire world for years, with his dazzling dimples and accommodating smile. Jin Guangyao alone was responsible for what had happened. And there would have been no guarantee that his twisted little snake mind wouldn’t have found some way to remove Lan Xichen, if his naivety hadn’t left him blind to what the Chief Cultivator was doing.

Really, the twists and turns of that man’s plots didn’t bear trying to follow, someone as straightforward as Jiang Cheng just couldn’t fathom him.

And he was glad for that.

He might not be perfect when compared to Jin Guangyao’s perceived perfection, he might be rough around the edges when compared to Jin Guangyao’s smoothness, his forcefulness might have looked overbearing when compared to Jin Guangyao’s subtle misdirection, but people got what they saw with Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng was a blunt instrument compared to Jin Guangyao’s sharp little dagger.

Did it make him a better person? He couldn’t say. And he didn’t care much anymore.

Would he have preferred that his nephew was able to be a carefree child for longer? Yes. Of course. Although, since his cousin’s death there had always been an understanding that he was the heir to the Jin sect, and had been treated as such, trained as such. Jiang Cheng knew from personal experience that the heir to a sect only had so much freedom to be a child.

But Jin Ling would be fine. He was strong. He would be fine. He had Wei Wuxian now, and his friends, when Jiang Cheng was gone.

He wet his lips with his tongue. Despite the fact he tried to consider the positives, the thought of leaving Jin Ling alone, like so many others of his family had, tasted sour on his tongue.

There wasn’t much he could do about it, however, the core inside him was a measure of his mortality, and when that measure ran out...

They had drifted into unhappy silence again, each man lost to the abyss of his own negative thoughts.

To try to distract himself, Jiang Cheng picked up the jar, and raised it to his lips. He glanced at the screen, trying to imagine the expression the Jade might be wearing on the other side.

“He seems to have made some firm friends out of the experience, however,” Jiang Cheng said, suddenly uncomfortable at the lack of discussion, “I’m glad. It was something he never had growing up, and it was something I could never give him. I could protect him, and teach him, and be his uncle, but I could never be his confidante, or his peer.”

“The younger generation don’t want old relics like us spoiling their fun.” There was a hint of a smile back in Lan Xichen’s voice.

“Just so.” Jiang Cheng agreed. Wei Wuxian, with his breezy personality and easy charm, however, would tame the birds from the trees.

He was just the kind of “uncle” teenagers would find fun.

He settled back against the wall, and, giving the Emperor’s Smile the attention it deserved, began to recount one of the many incidents he could remember from their time at the Cloud Recesses, where they had gotten into trouble, mostly at Wei Wuxian’s fault for the famed alcohol.

He was feeling a little nostalgic, a little melancholic, and perhaps, a little mellow.

Jin Ling would probably be surprised he was capable of the latter.

“In your honest opinion, is it to be as vaunted as Wei Wuxian would have us believe?” Lan Xichen asked as his low laughter faded.

Jiang Cheng took another mouthful and savoured the taste, considering Lan Xichen’s question.

“Perhaps. It’s very smooth. But Wei Wuxian always had a better head for this kind of thing than I do.”

He had drunk as a youngster to keep up with Wei Wuxian, who had always had more of a taste for alcohol than the young Jiang Cheng. Now, he occasionally overindulged to numb and forget for a while.

“Did it never bother you, growing up with so many rules? Being expected to be so damn perfect all the time?” Perhaps it was the Emperor’s Smile that loosened his tongue enough to ask Lan Xichen that very personal question.

“You of all people know as much as I that a sect leader in waiting is expected to be so much more than any other children of the sect, Wanyin.” Lan Xichen answered, eventually, his voice low. And the use of his courtesy name on it’s own caused the hairs at the back of his neck to stand on end. “But I learned a lot earlier than Wangji it was possible that, while some rules should be considered absolute, others we can learn to bend sometimes, if necessary.”

It was a fair comment, Lan Wangji had been a stickler for rules and order back then. Much less so now, if it came to his beloved Wei Wuxian. Whereas Lan Xichen never seemed to see the world is such shades of black and white. Perhaps it would have been kinder if he had, and hadn’t been quite so accepting of Jin Guangyao’s grey. Perhaps not.

The evening had drawn on, and it was only as Jiang Cheng heard the other stifling a yawn that he realised his intrusion had kept Lan Xichen up beyond his clan’s sleeping

time.

It appeared Lan Xichen still bent those rules when the need arose.

He climbed to his feet, “My apologies, Lan Xichen, it appears as well as being rude enough to trespass on your seclusion, I’ve intruded upon your rest as well. I appreciate your kind, if unwillingly provided, hospitality.”

“Jiang Wanyin, I’ve enjoyed having your company, perhaps you could visit with me again before you’re due to leave.”

“I’m sure you’re merely being kind, and I thank you for it, I would hope not to disturb you again, and bid you a good night”

“Quite the contrary, I would be very happy if you did, Jiang Wanyin. Goodnight, sleep well.”

He took his leave.

He wasn’t sure if it was the numbing effect of the alcohol, but he did, indeed, sleep well that evening.

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

The unusual feeling of being well-rested stayed with Jiang Cheng for most of the rest of the next day. The morning was taken up with routine discussions, and the afternoon was set aside for a joint hunt.

As a sect leader Jiang Cheng wouldn’t be taking part, and he intended to take the opportunity to meet with Jin Ling on his own, and press him on how he was faring, as his friends would all be busy in the activities.

He would search Jin Ling out after he had seen Yang Mei and Yang Hai on their way as Yunmeng Jiang representatives in the same.

To that end they made their way towards the front gate, where the party would be forming.

Yang Hai was recounting the news from Lotus Pier, that he had received via dispatch that morning, but Jiang Cheng, unusually, only half paid attention to him, the other part of his mind had wandered to Lan Xichen’s words of the previous evening. He wondered if he could take them at face value, or whether Lan Xichen was merely being polite?

He had sounded genuine. But Jiang Cheng, as ever, didn’t always trust his ability to read people.

He was jerked out of his thoughts at the sudden appearance of Wei Wuxian, annoyed and frowning.

“Jiang Cheng!”

“Shit.” He didn’t realise he’d verbalised the curse, until Yang Mei stepped forward and into Wei Wuxian’s path.

“Wei-gongzi, Jiang-zongzhu is particularly busy at the moment, perhaps you would like to make an appointment, if there is something you wish to discuss.”

“Jiang Cheng can stop pretending to be too busy to talk to me, and face me like a man.” Wei Wuxian said it mockingly, like he always had. Unfortunately he was now walking among people who didn’t understand his, admittedly trying, character. Wei Wuxian hadn’t been part of Yunmeng Jiang for too many years. Then, he made the mistake of reaching out to take her by the shoulders, intending to move her to one side, so he could pass her to reach Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng of course expected the series of events, and moved quickly to enact what damage control he could. He was between Wei Wuxian and Yang Mei in an instant.

Behind him, the air crackled as two identical navy-coloured whips appeared in Yang Mei’s and Yang Hai’s hands, but Jiang Cheng spread his arm, hand flat and indicating they should stay back as he also raised Sandu, hilt reversed in his hand, to catch Bichen’s forward thrust.

He knew Lan Wangji wouldn’t have moved to kill, and merely reacted to defend Wei Wuxian, but he was also aware Yang Mei and Yang Hai didn’t particularly like Lan Wangji. They were loyal to a fault to Jiang Cheng, and his less than harmonious relationship with Wei Wuxian’s husband was no secret to anyone in the cultivational world. He didn’t know how they would react to the perceived threat. Therefore, he put himself between them before they could all find out.

The greater part of him hoped Lan Wangji would recognise his actions as the de-escalation they had been, but there was a small, secret, part of himself that wished he wouldn’t, Sandu had never been tested against Bichen, and it was a battle that was probably long overdue.

Considering his own impending mortality, it wasn’t really a battle he could lose.

They were all frozen in the odd tableau for a few beats of the heart, before Wei Wuxian, who had been shocked at the demonstration of the twins’ link to his mother’s clan, turned to take Lan Wangji’s wrist, and pull it back, “Lan Zhan,” he said soothingly, and Lan Wangji took his eyes off of Jiang Cheng to look at Wei Wuxian.

Weak, to take your eyes from an enemy, but what was love if it wasn’t a weakness they all shared?

“I shouldn’t have laid hands on one of Jiang Cheng’s Spiders.” Wei Wuxian continued, and Lan Wangji withdrew Bichen after a few seconds, with a nod of agreement.

Jiang Cheng sheathed Sandu, and the pressure in the air behind him indicated the Yangs’ spiritual weapons had also been dismissed.

“We need to go, or we’ll be late.” Jiang Cheng stood back, and turned to Yang Mei, who nodded, and fell into step with her brother, at Jiang Cheng’s shoulders.

“Why are you avoiding me, Jiang Cheng?” Wei Wuxian called after him.

He stopped short, and turned, temper flaring. Even now, the things he did for Wei Wuxian were never enough of him. “Wei Wuxian, you said everything was settled, and we should forget the past and go our own way. You don’t get to yank at me for your amusement, like I’m a dog on a rope. If you wish to speak to me on sect business, make an appointment, like everyone else.” And he spun on his heel and marched off, his Vipers in tow.

His mother had had her Spiders, and Jiang Cheng had his Vipers, sent by his relatives in Meishan Yu shortly after the Siege of the Burial Mounds, the twins had their orders to assimilate into the Jiang sect and protect him, as Yinzhu and Jinzhu had for his A-Niang. They had quickly earned positions as his most trusted disciples.

“Foul-tempered wretch.” Wei Wuxian called at his retreating back.

But he ignored it, Wei Wuxian wanted him to react, to interact. Wei Wuxian didn’t deserve that from him anymore.

“Jiang-zongzhu-,” Yang Hai began to question.

“We have somewhere to be,” he repeated, and that was the end of the matter.

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

Later than evening, and for some unknown reason, he found himself in the Hanshi’s courtyard again.

He had another jar of Emperor’s Smile tucked into the crook of his arm, and he made his way up the steps, and decided entering through the window two nights in succession was pushing his luck. He sat, instead, beneath the window, on the verandah.

It was a relatively warm evening for the time of year, although the mountains of Gusu were always significantly cooler than the lakes of Yunmeng.

Jiang Cheng found it quite soothing to be there though, and unstopped the jar of alcohol, drinking deeply.

There was a soft sound from inside, and Jiang Cheng thought it was likely Lan Xichen sitting on the floor beneath the window, mirroring Jiang Cheng’s posture through the wall.

“You came, Wanyin.”

He made a non-committal sound; but he was a little embarrassed at how happy Lan Xichen sounded about that. He had returned, but he really didn’t know why, except that the more he thought about it, the more it seemed to him that Lan Xichen’s invitation had been a definite request, rather than a suggestion. It wasn’t too much to believe the other had become very lonely in seclusion, and perhaps he was now working towards re-entering society, chatting with Jiang Cheng might be Lan Xichen beginning to interact with the wider world again, in a situation that was still relatively safe for him.

“I was passing, drinking my Emperor’s Smile.” He said it almost challengingly, but Lan Xichen let it pass, as Jiang Cheng had expected him to.

They talked on lighter subjects that the previous evening, it was pleasant and undemanding, to sit and talk about things that didn’t matter in the slightest. This was something Jiang Cheng had never really had. Not since he’d lost his A-Jie and his Shixiong had Jiang Cheng had anyone to talk about anything but the most important matters. He knew that was his own fault, and due to the nature of his personality; he wasn’t easygoing or personable like Wei Wuxian was. He never had been, he had always tended more towards shyness, and seriousness as a boy, even despite Wei Wuxian’s best efforts to change that, and as a man, the seriousness hadn’t changed, but he had become cold, closed off, as a defence. He had lost too much to let anyone else in.

That evening Jiang Cheng excused himself again at the point that it became obvious Lan Xichen was flagging and ready to sleep. Again, the other expressed his hope that they could continue at a later date, and Jiang Cheng again wondered at anyone choosing to spend their time with him.

He wasn’t much of a charming conversationalist, he wasn’t erudite, or witty, but still Lan Xichen had asked him to return.

It became a regular meeting, this faceless companionship through the open window of the Hanshi, some evenings they talked of nothing at all of worth, and others they touched on more delicate, important subjects. It was almost like some form of mutual therapy.

Except Jiang Cheng never touched upon the most important subject of what was happening with his core.

Beyond Lei Shirong, his sect physician, Lan Xichen probably was the closest to knowing about the issue. Not even Wei Wuxian himself knew Jiang Cheng had suffered losses of control, as he had sworn the other two to complete secrecy on the matter. Not that Lan Xichen had reason to believe it had been anything more than a qi deviation he had rescued Jiang Cheng from.

That over the last few days there had been several more instances was a good indication that the core was becoming increasingly unstable. It was likely only a matter of time until he actually went into whatever form of qi deviation it would cause.

He thought he probably ought to return to Lotus Pier. He wanted the end to come in the same place his parents had fallen.

It would be of no real benefit, but it was his wish.

Luckily the conference would only last a few more days, then he could return.

That night, he found Lan Xichen in quite an introspective mood. He spoke more of Jin Guangyao, and how he had tried his best to change the darkness he had always sensed lurked beneath the surface.

Jiang Cheng sympathised, he knew himself how helpless it left a person feeling when someone you cared for began to slip through your fingers, and, like sand, no matter how tightly you tried to grasp it, it only made it trickle away faster.

“I felt so guilty for my part in what happened, for enabling him-,” Lan Xichen paused.

“I don’t think you’d be human if you didn’t feel a sense of guilt, we all do, that we let things happen they way they turn out, even when it isn’t our fault. It’s not unusual.”

They drifted into contemplative silence again. There were very often periods of silence between them, but they didn’t feel uncomfortable, neither felt forced to fill them with pointless noise.

Left to silence, his mind wandered, he had been thinking a lot on the subject of his impending demise recently, and he was again, just full enough of Emperor’s Smile that it had loosened his tongue a little.

“What do you think death is like? Not what you’re told to believe it’s like, what you actually think it’s like?”

The question seemed to have surprised Lan Xichen; he made no immediate response.

“I don’t know,” was the eventual reply, “sometimes I wonder if it might be kinder if there just wasn’t anything, a soul may just find rest in oblivion, unhampered by what it had suffered, and caused to suffer, in life. But that’s also a scary thought, isn’t it? That everything you do, or struggle to be, in this life, doesn’t matter after all. Oblivion isn’t what we strive for as cultivators,.”

Jiang Cheng made a sound of agreement.

“Perhaps this would be a discussion best had with Wei Wuxian-,”

“No.” He realised as soon as he spoke the single denial it was too forceful, too much. “No need to bother him, it was merely a musing.”

Silence again.

Then, “I take it things are still...difficult between you and your shixiong, Wanyin.”

He let the shixiong pass, “We’re different people now, Lan Xichen, that’s all. Wei Wuxian left that life behind him.” He stood up. He knew it was earlier than any of their previous evenings had ended, and he knew it was running away. But there were some things he wasn’t equipped to deal with. And Wei Wuxian, was one of them. “You’ll excuse me, I have an early start tomorrow. There’s still much to get through before the end of the conference. Good night, Xichen.”

“Good night.” Gods, why did that touch of sadness tug so much at Jiang Cheng’s heart? Like a kicked puppy, and if puppies weren’t Jiang Cheng’s biggest weakness. “I’m sorry if I overstepped any boudaries. Sleep well, Wanyin.”

“I-,” he had no idea what he had been about to say, Lan Xichen hadn’t really overstepped, but he was so sensitive on the subject of Wei Wuxian. He closed his eyes; he didn’t know how to extract himself out of this situation without hurting either Lan Xichen, or himself. In the end, he made the same decision he always had when the choice was his, and chose himself. “You didn’t overstep, I’m sorry I’m so-,”

“Don’t, Wanyin. You don’t owe anyone anything you aren’t willing to give. I’m sure you really are busy tomorrow. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to forgive me, and come again tomorrow evening. I know your time is limited, and the conference ends shortly.”

Lan Xichen really was too kind for this world of theirs.

“I’ll do my best.” It was so easy to give such a promise to Lan Xichen. “Sleep well, Xichen.”

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

There was no disguising from himself that Lan Xichen was on tenterhooks after their awkward parting the previous evening. He spent a lot of the following day wondering how it was possible he had become so very dependent on the company of Jiang Wanyin, in such a very short time.

While they had always been cordial in the past, they were never particularly close. Lan Xichen was ashamed to remember he had been too tied up in his brotherhood with Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao, too focussed on trying to help them, to pay very much mind to the young man in Yunmeng who had lost virtually everything, and still limped on, dragging his sect up from the remains of Lotus Pier, by the sheer force of his hard work and will, to return as one of the strongest, most influential sects in the world.

He had been considering for a while, before Jiang Cheng had crashed through his window to avoid Wei Wuxian, that he would shortly start making a move to leave seclusion. He thought he had taken away what measure of peace, and atonement, he could from the process. He knew from personal experience with his father, that when a Lan entered seclusion, the people left on the outside were hurt the most, carrying on the burden, and therefore it had only ever been intended to be a temporary measure for him, to reflect on and repent for his own part in the villainy Jin Guangyao had undertaken, and to mourn for Nie Mingjue properly.

The Jiang Sect leader had smashed into his seclusion, and, with his personality, an odd mixture of sarcasm, matter-of-factness, pragmatism, humour and cutting insight, had reminded Lan Xichen that life was for the living, and there was a world outside the Hanshi, and it wasn’t all bad.

And he had accidentally stepped into a hornets nest last night, and hurt Jiang Wanyin, which he would never wish to do.

What if Jiang Wanyin hadn’t forgiven him? What if he didn’t come back tonight?

Lan Xichen gnawed on his lower lip, glancing at the door to the Hanshi. He could visit Jiang Wanyin, and apologise again, if needed. If he left the Hanshi.

He began pacing as the evening mealtime passed, and the time approached that Jiang Wanyin had normally arrived outside his window, with his jar of Emperor’s Smile.

Nothing. The time came and passed.

He paced a little more.

But it grew obvious Jiang Wanyin wasn’t coming.

He could genuinely be too busy, sect leaders were greatly in demanding during discussion conferences, especially from the larger sects, as lesser sects jostled and fought for a little of their time. Jiang Wanyin was also a very eligible bachelor, despite, as he understood it, most female cultivators having put him on a blacklist.

More fool them.

He paused in his pacing as he examined the thought.

Yes, Jiang Wanyin was a catch. But one had to look beneath the tough exterior, the facade, the defence, to the man underneath.

Something he doubted Jiang Wanyin himself wanted people to do. He wouldn’t be entirely surprised if the other had ended up on this “blacklist” through his own machinations. While the other was blunt, and had a temper, he had still been raised a statesman, politically aware, and he doubted anyone, female or otherwise, would have the power to make Jiang Cheng say, or do anything, that would put him under their scorn, without him meaning to. It just didn’t make any sense.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He would almost want to be a fly on the wall, to see how the gruff Jiang Cheng play-bumbled his way into a woman’s bad graces over the course of an afternoon, or evening.

His paused, and licked his lips. Much like he had, accidentally? In upsetting Jiang Wanyin?

He lost his smile, and moved to shrug into an outer robe. He would just pay Jiang Wanyin a visit. He would likely find the other was actually busy with sect business, and be able to return to the Hanshi, his conscience clear.

Jiang Wanyin didn’t owe him anything, but he did value the sort of companionship they had fallen into over the past evenings.

He of course realised the flaw in his plan as soon as he left the sheltered private clan areas around the Hanshi; he’d had no input into the planning for this event, and he had absolutely no idea where Jiang Wanyin might be located.

Except, it seemed, luck was on his side, as he saw a pair approaching in what were obviously Yunmeng Jiang colours.

The pair noticed him almost at the same time as he noticed them, and they paused, covering their shock up quickly.

He vaguely recognised the pair, always at Jiang Wanyin’s shoulder during other night hunts and conferences.

“Yang-gongzi, and Yang-guniang.” He dug their names out of his memory, Jiang Wanyin wasn’t the only one who’d been groomed to have all these little tricks at his disposal, Lan Xichen had received just as rigorous an education in politics and people pleasing.

“Lan-zongzhu.” The twins greeted him in perfect unison.

“What a fortuitous meeting, I wonder if you can direct me to Jiang-zongzhu’s accommodations? I wasn’t party to the arrangements this time, for obvious reasons.”

They both paused, their respect for another sect’s leader, and their host one at that, fighting against their well known preciousness over their own sect leader.

“We have an appointment.” He smiled. It was only bending the truth slightly, he had come to think of their evening meetings as a set thing, even if Jiang Wanyin hadn’t. And it worked in breaking the pair’s reluctance.

“Jiang-zongzhu was assigned the house next to the magnolia tree, Lan-zongzhu.” Yang Hai gestured in the direction, “please allow us to accompany you,” and Lan Xichen lowered his head in thanks and acknowledgement of their joint bows.

He set off, trailed by the Yang twins, and soon arrived at the residence Jiang Wanyin was currently in possession of.

He paused at the foot of the stairs, at the sound of a sword tearing through the air and burying in something wooden, from inside the house.

He drew Shuoyue automatically, and heard the swords of Yang Mei and Yang Hai slide out of their scabbards behind him, along with the crackle of Meishan Yu spiritual whips.

“Jiang Wanyin?” he called out, half warning that he was outside and intended to enter, half hoping the other would just call out to acknowledge them, and provide a perfectly reasonable explanation for why there was a sudden breaking of something like pottery. And then something flew through the window and smashed into a hundred pieces in the courtyard. It had been a small table.

He could wait no longer.

“Jiang Wanyin!” He dashed up the stairs, and into the residence, the Yangs barely a footstep behind him.

He paused just inside the completely destroyed interior, and sucked a breath in.

Jiang Wanyin stood in the middle of his rooms, he was surrounded by the debris of what had been a table and tea set.

There might have been some confusion over what had happened, except Jiang Wanyin had Sandu in his hand, and Zidian was active.

Blood had begun to leak from his nose, and the corner of his mouth, probably only the start.

He spun to face the door at the sound of the new arrivals, and, not even pausing to identify who the intruders were, swung Zidian.

Lan Xichen had no time to hope he wasn’t too rusty, no time to think. He countered Zidian with the flash of a sword glare, and summoned Liebing.

Except he hesitated at the thought of playing Song of Cleansing, after recognising the qi deviation for what it was. It was a fatal pause. Or it would have been, if Yang Hai’s sword hadn’t flashed over his shoulder to catch and deflect Sandu.

It shocked him out of his indecision, “Use your whips to hold him.” Liebing was returned to the ether, and he raised Shuoyue again defensively.

Although Jiang Cheng was stronger due to the qi running rampant through his channels, he had no control, and stood no chance against three highly trained cultivators, and was soon trapped in the coils of identical navy whips.

As he struggled the first trails of blood collected in the corners of his eyes, and began to roll down his cheeks like tears.

Lan Xichen swallowed. He hadn’t been there, of course, when Nie Mingjue had qi deviated, but it was still a harsh reminder of what had happened to him. He was determined he wouldn’t lose another friend to this.

Decisively, Lan Xichen stepped forward, placed a palm against the struggling Jiang Wanyin’s chest, over his middle dantian, and began to feed qi into the other, quelling and reversing the surging tides causing the other to deviate.

It was no easy thing to achieve, either, the tides were fierce.

Jiang Wanyin eventually lost consciousness, and Yang Hai caught him as he fell. The Yangs’ whips were both dismissed, and between the three of them, then managed to carry the unconscious sect leader to the bed, where he was placed comfortably on top of the blankets.

“I’ll summon a physician.” He left them briefly, to waylay the first Lan disciple he came across, and send the boy to collect Xiao Qingyue, despite the fact he nearly tied his own tongue in a knot at having Lan Xichen, last known to be in seclusion, suddenly appear in front of him like this.

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

His head pounded when he woke up. Jiang Cheng raised a hand and pressed his palm to his forehead. He didn’t remember how much he had drunk last night; it didn’t usually affect him enough to give him a hangover, but why else would his head hurt like this?

He pushed himself upright in the bed, and concentrated on trying to stop his head spinning, then he had to work out why he couldn’t really remember the previous evening.

He glanced up, and gaped at the small coven surrounding his bed. Yang Hai and Yang Mei were at the forefront.

“What in all the gods names are you doing hovering over me like that?” his hands automatically went to his chest, to check he was wearing his inner robe and his chest was covered from prying eyes. It was, so that was a worry dealt with. “Is this some kind hazing ritual? Was I meant to wake up naked in the middle of the woods?” As usual, sarcasm was his default setting when he didn’t feel like he had control of the situation.

There was a soft chuckle, which Jiang Cheng couldn’t process at the moment, because his eyes landed on Lei Shirong, stood against the wall with his arms folded, talking with a serious looking woman in Lan sect robes. She didn’t have the cloud motif stitched into her headband, so she wasn’t a blood Lan.

He realised Jiang Cheng was awake, and staring at him, and they both turned to face him.

“How much do you remember, Jiang-zongzhu?” Lei Shirong asked, and he shook his head. Obviously the headache wasn’t caused by a simple overindulgence in alcohol then.

Which meant it had finally happened.

So why wasn’t he dead already?

“Well, considering you were almost certainly back in Lotus Pier at the last point I can remember, I assume it’s been at least a few days.”

Did that mean those present now knew the truth? That he was a walking corpse, just waiting for the end?

The thing that had been tickling at the back of his mind for a few minutes now solidified, and he turned to the owner of the soft chuckle he had heard earlier.

“You’re out of seclusion.” it was a statement, not a question, it was obvious that he was, after all.

“I am. I came to check up on a friend. Just in time, it seems.”

Yang Hai dropped a bow to Jiang Cheng, then Lan Xichen.

“Lan-zongzhu saved your life, Jiang-zongzhu. We’re eternally grateful, Lan-zongzhu.”

Lei Shirong stepped towards the bed then, followed closely by his Lan equivalent, and picked Jiang Cheng’s wrist up, testing his qi flow and meridians.

“Unfortunately, Jiang-zongzhu, I believe it’s time for you to come clean. We can’t ignore it any longer.” Lei Shirong said, as he stepped back, and the Lan sect healer enacted the same examination. He was about to snatch his wrist out of her hands, when he looked up and met her gaze. He settled like a quelled puppy, and she nodded once in congratulation for his sensibility.

He turned back to Lei Shirong. “Even if I did “come clean”, who here would be able to do anything about it, Lei-dafu?” he asked mockingly, then glanced around the others. He was about to comment that he owed none of those gathered here a damn thing in terms of explanation, but he realised he probably did, and the words died. Yang Hai and Yang Mei definitely needed to know, seeing as they were likely due to inherit a sect very shortly. Perhaps even Lan Xichen deserved the truth, having been concerned enough to check up on him, and then rescue him. And he had referred to himself as a friend.

That caused Jiang Cheng an odd kind of feeling.

But he ignored it for now.

“Where is Wei Wuxian?” he asked instead, looking specifically at Lan Xichen.

The other answered immediately, “Wangji and Wei Wuxian left the Cloud Recesses yesterday morning on a night hunt. They weren’t aware you hadn’t already departed for Lotus Pier, we thought you would prefer Wei Wuxian didn’t know.”

He relaxed a little. The last person in the world he wanted to know was Wei Wuxian. And knowing he was out of the way was soothing.

A low sigh of relief left him, before he began, matter-of-factly, “Very shortly after the razing of Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian and I were hiding in Yiling, on the way to Meishan to seek safety with my mother’s people. In the streets, Wen soldiers were searching for us, and Wei Wuxian had gone out to bring food back. I created a diversion, and was taken back to Lotus Pier.” He forced himself not to lay a hand over the scarring on his upper chest, like he wanted to, and to keep his voice neutral. “Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning rescued me later, but it was too late to save my core. Wen Zhuliu was more than worth his title.”

He saw Lan Xichen wince. “The title wasn’t merely grandstanding?”

Jiang Cheng’s laugh was half-hysterical, but he controlled himself again, eventually, “As literal as can be.” Or how else could that worm Wen Chao best the Violet Spider?

“And that was why Wei Wuxian cooked up his insane plan to have Wen Qing transplant his golden core into me. He lied, and told me he had heard that his mother’s Shifu, Baoshan Sanren, could give me a new core. And I, stupid, naive little boy, believed my shixiong, because if it wasn’t true, what did I have left? I didn’t know the truth until after the second siege of the Burial Mounds, but in hindsight, I do wonder how I could have been so blind as to not realise, even once, in all that time.”

Most of those gathered were hearing this information for the first time, only Lan Xichen, who had been at the Guanyin Temple, knew some of it, and Lei Shirong, who he had told the bare minimum to, as his physician.

“Ironically, ever since the operation, the core has been fighting against me. What you thought of as qi deviations, like when you carried me from the battlefield during the Sunshot Campaign, were instances where Wei Wuxian’s core got away from my control. They usually happened after extended periods of calling upon my spiritual energy, but occasionally they happened without anything apparent being the cause. Until recently I was also been able to redirect and quell the qi with a little concentration and effort, however, they’ve become more frequent, and almost impossible to control. The core is going to kill me, sooner or later.”

“You asked me to keep the incident on the Jianglian front from Wei Wuxian all those years ago, Wanyin, are you seriously telling me Wei Wuxian isn’t aware your body has never really accepted his core?”

Jiang Cheng shook his head. “Telling him his greatest sacrifice was actually a death sentence for me? That would be cruel,” he laughed, because the world probably thought Jiang Wanyin wouldn’t hesitate to be cruel. “And besides, at that time, back on the Jianglian front, I genuinely thought it was this new core that Baoshan Sanren had somehow made, taking time to become used to me, to synchronise with my meridians, channels and dantians. In reality it was never going to, because it was made for Wei Wuxian’s body to use, never mine.”

He settled more comfortably back against the headrest.

There was something almost freeing in finally speaking the truth, as much as it left him exposed and feeling vulnerable.

“Is there really nothing that can be done about it?” Lan Xichen looked at Lei Shirong, who shrugged.

“I’ve been researching for years, Lan-zongzhu. And we never found what happened to Wen Qing’s books after the Sunshot campaign, I did have a hope that after Wei Wuxian found the Jin’s secret treasure room at Jinlin Tai, they may be discovered among the things Jin Guangyao kept there, but they weren’t.”

“Do we have nothing in the Lan Library, Xiao-dafu?” Lan Xichen asked his own sect’s healer, who also shook her head.

“Not even in the forbidden library, Lan-zongzhu, Wen Qing was the theoriser, and the only doctor in the world to perform a Golden Core transplant. The idea is ludicrous on it’s own, without being put into practice. I do wish I could have discussed it with her.”

Lan Xichen rose to his feet, and strode over to stand at the window, looking out into the silent courtyard.

Jiang Cheng threw the covers back, and rose, “Perhaps you could excuse us now, I have some important sect business to take care of.” He turned to Lei Shirong. “I don’t suppose you thought to bring my family registry along with you, did you?”

“It wasn’t foremost in my mind, no.” Lei Shirong replied dryly.

Jiang Cheng frowned at him, and then turned to Lan Xichen, “Perhaps you could be witness and executor for my wishes, then Xichen.”

The other turned back to look at him. Jiang Cheng had almost forgotten how intense those dark amber eyes could become when the Lan sect leader was being serious, focussed. All the time they had spent together since he’d arrived at Cloud Recesses and barrelled unwittingly into the Hanshi, had been without seeing each other face to face.

“Wanyin-.”

“I apologise for having to ask, Xichen, but unlike the Lans, I have no clear blood successor, and have to ensure Yunmeng Jiang will be well cared for after I’m dead. If I make it back to Lotus Pier, I will add Yang Hai and Yang Mei to the registry, it’s my wish my head disciple succeeds me as sect leader upon my death.”

Lan Xichen continued to regard him, “As you wish, Wanyin, I will bear witness to that wish.”

There was something further he wanted to say, but he didn’t know if he could, Jiang Cheng realised, at the look in those eyes.

He waited, never one to push. He had the agreement he wanted, anyway.

“I know of someone who may be able to help. But I don’t know if they would be willing. I’ll dispatch a messenger.”

Jiang Cheng frowned, who could possible help him now? The only person in the world who might have been able to remove the core again had been turned to ashes long ago by the Jins.

Lan Xichen refused to be drawn further on the matter, however, merely begged Jiang Cheng to stay in the Cloud Recesses a little longer.

For Jin Ling’s sake, he agreed. While he may be perfectly ready, willing, and able, to die with equanimity, and at peace with his life, for Jin Ling’s sake he wouldn’t give up. Lan Xichen also promised him that if “things” got much more out of hand before help arrived, he would personally ensure Jiang Cheng was taken back to Lotus Pier to die amongst his ancestors.

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

It was nearly a week later before the one who Lan Xichen had sent a missive to, arrived at Lotus Pier.

In that time there had been a few more incidents, but, with Lan Xichen’s help, they had been kept relatively minor.

It had been trying on Jiang Cheng’s patience, however, that the other had barely left him alone in that time. But he couldn’t complain, as it was to ensure his safety. And at least Lan Xichen wasn’t terrible company. It was just that Jiang Cheng wasn’t used to relying on others, and it was odd to feel the indebtedness to someone else for it.

He frequently fell to wondering, in those days spent waiting, who it was that Lan Xichen thought might be able to help him. And what that help might look like. He was a pragmatic man, and he knew the likeliest form that salvation could take was the complete removal of the golden core. Whatever happened, his life was going to change drastically. He could look on the possibility with equanimity now, something he hadn’t been able to do as a younger man.

He was in a reasonably secure position politically in the current climate, not a refugee running for his life, desperate to avenge the deaths of his parents and sect brothers and sisters, his sect was almost certainly powerful enough to withstand the loss of his personal cultivational power, especially if he maintained good relationships with the other large sects. One of which he was tied to through familial bonds, the other through a childhood friend he was still on reasonable terms with, and the third; well, even though his relationship with Lan Wangji was a fraught one, he thought he and Lan Xichen understood each other quite well now.

The morning was spent in such musings, and sect correspondence. He had already sent Yang Hai back to Lotus Pier, despite his protests. Yang Mei had chosen to remain, despite the assurances there was nothing she would be needed for. Some time in the afternoon a Lan disciple arrived to inform Lan Xichen their guest had arrived, and Lan Xichen rose, Jiang Cheng close on his heels.

“I cannot promise anything, Wanyin.” Lan Xichen paused at the doorway, and turned, to place a holding hand on Jiang Cheng’s arm.

“I’m aware, Xichen. Whatever happens, happens.” He tilted his head a little, gazing into the dark amber depths of Lan Xichen’s, “I’m grateful for your concern, and the fact you’ve done as much as you’re able. I don’t fear my own death at this stage of my life, but I would be incredibly sorry to leave Jin Ling after all he has already lost.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk so cavalierly about your life, Wanyin.” There was a hint of censure in his voice, but Jiang Cheng shook his head.

“With my relationship with this core of Wei Wuxian’s, I’ve had many years to contemplate my own mortality, that’s all. I did originally think it was just going to take some getting used to, but its been a long time now, since I began to understand it only gave me a limited lifespan. It’s one hell of a way to focus on what matters, Xichen, that I can assure you.”

“And you can honestly say to me you don’t feel like you’ve left anything undone, no regrets, nothing you wished you’d achieved, if this was the end?”

He didn’t hide the flicker in his gaze fast enough, he knew that, and damn Lan Xichen for being able to understand him so well.

“Nothing I can control,” he said instead.

Lan Xichen’s perfect eyebrow raised a little, but he turned to move out of the door, Jiang Cheng, again, following.

They made their way through the Cloud Recesses, and Jiang Cheng wasn’t too proud to admit to himself he was actually nervous over the outcome. He genuinely couldn’t hazard a guess over who the person who Lan Xichen had sent a request to was, but they were about to find out.

They entered the Yashi. There were two visitors, one he recognised immediately, and felt a flare of…defensiveness…anger…but it was quickly overtaken by shock.

The pair rose to their feet, and the tall, slim figure of a woman in dark robes turned to face them.

The Ghost General Wen Ning had been enough of a surprise, to be faced by another ghost, was a bigger shock still.

“Lan-zongzhu, Jiang-zongzhu.” Wen Qing greeting them both with a slight bow, despite the distaste on her face. Lan Xichen returned her greeting, and Jiang Cheng must have do so too, although he didn’t recall.

He didn’t miss how carefully watchful Wen Ning was as his sister interacted with the pair.

“I hope your journey wasn’t too taxing, Zhao-guniang.” Lan Xichen said pleasantly, and she made some non-committal response.

“I won’t waste your time, Lan-zongzhu. I came because of the debt I owe you, and because I don’t like the thought of my work being so shoddy it killed someone. There is no love lost between us, but I will assist you, Jiang-zongzhu, if you give me your word I will be left alone afterwards. Lan-zongzhu obviously trusts you enough to reveal what his clan did for me to you, but I would like your personal guarantee on the matter.”

He pressed his lips together, but nodded. His need for vengeance had never stretched to the pair here, but he had never felt any personal responsibility for their fate either; he had just detested the sight of them, it being a grating reminder of everything he had suffered and what he had lost. If they existed in the world still, he didn’t care, as long as he didn’t have to interact with them, see them, be reminded by them. His vengeance on their clan was long since spent, the feeling dead and buried with the deaths of Wen Chao, and, ultimately, Wen Ruohan.

“You came because you’re a healer, Zhao-guniang. You owe me nothing, after all.” Lan Xichen was speaking to Wen...Zhao Qing.

She gave him a sharp, searching look. But it wasn’t mere politeness from Lan Xichen, he was too good, too kind, and a little naive. His actions were never about what he could personally gain from them, his kindness was selfless, genuine, the kind of paragon someone like Jiang Cheng could never hope to emulate in this life.

And, as usual, it confused people.

Lan Xichen understood her implicitly though, in the way that she was a healer first and foremost, and it was very obvious she wanted nothing more than to get to work.

Jiang Cheng had no wish to prolong their contact. And he wasn't even entirely sure he wished to put himself in Wen...Zhao Qing’s debt. He didn’t consider himself in that debt already for what had happened before, between the others, between Wei Wuxian, and Wen Ning, and Wen Qing, as she had been then, they had stolen his right to make an informed decision and choose for himself, to turn down his shixiong’s core, to decide what was put inside of him. That negated any gratitude he should feel, and always had, from the moment he had discovered what had truly happened.

The next few hours were spent in examinations, consultations, and discussions.

After those she spent some time in consideration, and consulting the books she had brought with her, and with Lei Shirong and Xiao Qingyue, who seemed to hang on her every word. In the end, the only treatment option she could offer him was, as he expected, the full removal of the core.

And he had already had quite a long time to consider that. He had always known it was likely the only way to save his life. Basically, he was reconciled to it. Considering it was that, or death, for Jin Ling’s sake there really wasn’t a choice.

He agreed instantly, which seemed to throw those present.

But he would hear no arguments, he had long ago prepared himself for this. In reality, Wei Wuxian had loaned him this core, to enable him to enact his revenge, and resurrect his sect. He had achieved both. He didn’t need anything more, except to be there for his nephew as he grew to full manhood.

“What will happen with the core? Will you be able to return it to Wei Wuxian?” he asked. Ideally, he would avoid Wei Wuxian ever knowing, or being involved, but practically speaking, there was no point in it core going to waste.

He already felt incredibly guilty that Wei Wuxian had sacrificed so much for him, but Jiang Cheng had virtually thrown that away, by being unable to assimilate the core his shixiong had given up for him, wanted or not. If it could be returned, then it would still be useful, still serve a purpose, and salve his conscience. It wouldn’t make what Wei Wuxian had suffered better, wouldn’t remove that, but nothing could turn back time, for any of them.

“I think I will be able to, if you’re willing to be awake when the core is extracted, and if the core survives the process.” Zhao Qing informed him matter-of-factly.

“Whatever is needed.” He agreed without thought.

“You don’t know what being awake entails-,”

“I don’t need to, I’ll have Xichen send a messenger to find them immediately. We don’t have very long.” He left the infirmary, where Xiao Qingyue had invited Zhao Qing to set up her surgery, and delivered his request to the Lan sect leader.

Lan Xichen complied, and dispatched a butterfly messenger, then invited Jiang Cheng to sit and talk for a while, over tea. He was aware Lan Xichen was eager to know the outcomes of his examinations, and Zhao Qing’s findings.

He seemed genuinely disappointed for Jiang Cheng, when he informed him that he had agreed to the removal procedure.

Jiang Cheng told him he was genuinely accepting of the outcome, but, uncomfortable with Lan Xichen’s sadness, he changed the subject.

“It seems I should apologise to you, for dragging you out of your seclusion before you were ready.”

Lan Xichen accepted the change of subject, but not the apology.

“Not necessary, Wanyin, I had been considering it time to end my seclusion, you merely took away the agonising and overthinking about when it should be.”

He laughed at the cheeky smile Lan Xichen directed at him.

Really, he had enjoyed their clandestine discussions through the Hanshi’s window, but talking to Lan Xichen face-to-face, being able to watch the warm expressions flit across his face, the teasing light in his dark amber eyes, was far superior.

“I’m a treasure, its true,” he said, his tone loaded full of self-deprication.

“You truly are, Wanyin.” Lan Xichen agreed, but he meant it sincerely, and their eyes met, and held, but Jiang Cheng couldn’t bear the surge of emotion it caused, and had to break the contact after a few moments.

It was his nature to read too much into another’s feelings; he always had, he knew his own mind well enough to know he was far too ready to cleave to someone who showed him even the smallest amount of affection. He was well aware, and he hated that about himself, but he couldn’t change it. He could stop himself making a fool of himself over it, however.

He rose and made his excuses as soon as it was polite, and made his way back to his accommodations next to the magnolia tree. There was a fat, full moon hanging in the sky and there was a new crispness in the air that suggested autumn had finally arrived, and winter wouldn’t be too far in the future.

There was now a hope in his heart that he might see that winter.

He was a little distracted, and extremely comfortable in the protection of the Cloud Recesses, which was why he was slow to recognise the danger for what it was.

He had reached his door before he felt it. He turned to identify the threat, reaching for Sandu’s hilt.

There was the sudden sound of a dizi, and he only had seconds to identify the twin red pools of rage in the darkness, before something hit him solidly in the chest, and sent him backwards into the residence. Dark, smoking tendrils wrapped themselves around him, pinning him against the wall, he could summon, but not swing Zidian, nor could he form a sword seal to infuse Sandu with his spiritual energy and defend himself with her.

The dark figure stalked into the residence behind him, shadows swirling around him, the only brightness in his blood red eyes. It had been a long time since Jiang Cheng had seen the Yiling Laozu in all his rage-filled, vengeful glory. Even if he was significantly shorter these days…

“Wei Wuxian, you fucker-,” his air was cut off suddenly, a tendril tightening around his throat. He glared daggers at Wei Wuxian, as it was the only response he could make. Not that it had ever worked on that man.

“Appointment made, dear Shidi. I see now is a good time for you.” Really was there anyone in the world who could get under his skin as quickly and effectively as Wei Wuxian? He was going to kick him in the balls the minute he got free. “So, were you ever going to tell me about the core? Why didn’t you tell me it was failing as far back as the Sunshot campaign, when we could have done something about it? What if Xichen-ge hadn’t accidentally found out, and summoned Zhao Qing? WHAT IF YOU HAD DIED OF A QI DEVIATION WITHOUT ANY OF US KNOWING IN TIME TO STOP IT, JIANG CHENG?”

The tendrils pinning him to the wall vanished, and he dropped back to his feet, coughing and choking at the sudden rush of air returning to his lungs.

He looked up just in time to catch the flash of a fist, but not stop it, as Wei Wuxian punched him in the face.

“You stupid fuck.” Wei Wuxian snapped, smashing Chenqing into his belt, then raising both hands to run them down his face as he calmed a little, rage spent.

Jiang Cheng, painfully aware of his own strength compared to the coreless Wei Wuxian, knew he couldn’t return like for like with physical violence, not unless he wanted to break Wei Wuxian’s jaw. And, as tempting as it was, he didn’t really want it.

Verbally, he could definitely fight fire with fire however.

“Try because you fucking lied to me, for years, Wei Wuxian. I didn’t know it was yours, I just thought I needed to get used to it. If you’d told me, even after it was done, I’d have known it wasn’t going to get any better, it wasn’t going to stop feeling like something painful and invasive inside of me. But you never did, you lied and you lied, and kept me in the dark like a stupid child, so don’t blame me.”

“You didn’t tell anyone…”

“Wrong, Wei Wuxian, I discussed it with my physician, who was the only other person in the world who had a right to know If I wished him to know.”

How could Wei Wuxian argue with that?

Except it was Wei Wuxian, who could argue with his own reflection, because he was just that contrary.

“You’re so fucking petty, Jiang Cheng, age hasn’t improved that about you.”

“And you’re so fucking annoying, Wei Wuxian. You haven’t noticeably improved either.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, before Wei Wuxian turned, and walked to the window, planting his hands on the sill, and pulling in a deep breath.

“I don’t want the core back.”

“Fine, then W-Zhao Qing can throw it away.”

Wei Wuxian spun at his comment, frowning, “Why are you always so bloody minded?” he demanded.

“Bloody minded? Wei Wuxian, as much as I hate throwing your sacrifice back in your face, your core is going to kill me if Zhao Qing doesn’t remove it. I can’t use it anymore, my body is rejecting it. Either you take it back, or you don’t, but I can’t keep it.”

Wei Wuxian’s hips hit the windowsill as he leant back, a sigh left him. “I’d hoped she was just grandstanding because you’d asked her to. It’s really a case of it has to come out then.” It wasn’t a question. Wei Wuxian folded his arms and looked away. “I’ll speak to Zhao Qing tomorrow, we’ll finalise things and arrange the operation for as soon as possible.” He stepped away from the window, then, placing a soothing hand on Chenqing, “You know if the core needs to stay viable you have to be awake during the transfer, don’t you? You know it’s painful? You know you can feel your qi settling and never reawakening in your channels, don’t you?”

“Zhao Qing may have tried to mention something of the sort. It’s a novel idea, but perhaps it’s time to stop treating me like a fragile piece of glass, who’ll break at the slightest pressure, Wei Wuxian. I’ve walked through hell in this life, and survived. Perhaps it’s time to start crediting me with having strength, and a mind, of my own.”

Wei Wuxian’s face was unusually expressionless. “Perhaps it is.”

~ Several Months Later ~

He opened the chest, and gently lifted the scroll out. It was an exquisite rendition of a lotus lake, in full bloom, with a shadowed pier in the distance. It was done in beautiful shades of purple and blue and was truly a gorgeous piece.

He had seen enough of Lan Xichen’s paintings over the years, like the sceneries in Jinlin Tai, that he had painted for Jin Guangyao, to know who the artist was, if he had any doubt. Which he didn’t, because it was the third gift that had arrived this month.

It would go over his bed.

“I really should send a return gift,” he said to himself. Unfortunately, himself currently also included his new shadow, Wei Wuxian, who was laid out on top of his bed, swinging Chenqing through the air and watching the tassel trace patterns.

“He doesn’t want a return gift, stupid. He wants your hand in marriage.” His shadow sat up, and stared at him like he was insane.

Perhaps he was.

But he wasn’t yet insane enough to take Wei Wuxian’s words at face value. How could Lan Xichen, the foremost cultivator of his generation, the most handsome man in the cultivational world, want his hand in marriage? He was nothing. Less than nothing. A nobody holding on to power by default, not a cultivator anymore, nothing special, just an ordinary man living his life, and definitely not worth such a man’s regard.

He sighed, and placed the painting back in the chest. He resolved to have it hung later, and send a thank you note for the very kind gift to the Cloud Recesses.

“Why are you even back here? Hasn’t Yang Hai already removed you from Lotus Pier once? Why won’t you stay away?”

“Actually, three times this week, so far, I don’t understand why I keep getting kicked out and Lan Zhan doesn’t, I’ll get a complex, and start feeling like I’m not wanted here.”

“Please do.” Jiang Cheng snapped, and thought he’d have a word with his head disciple, there was no earthly reason Yang Hai and Yang Mei should keep ignoring the Second Jade and just remove Wei Wuxian. Why should this pair of freeloaders be suffered to stay in Lotus Pier just because his supposed right and left hand were scared of Lan Wangji?

“I don’t like your head disciple much, Jiang Cheng, he’s very...dull.”

“Really? You mean efficient, responsible, and dependable.” He recognised Wei Wuxian’s petty jealousy for what it was, and couldn’t help needling him.

“Yes, like I said, dull, boring. Not the kind of head disciple my shidi needs.”

“Exactly the kind of head disciple I need, Wei Wuxian, and we’re not having this discussion.” He stalked over to the bed and caught Wei Wuxian’s wrist, pulling him into a sitting position. “Why don’t you go home, Wei Wuxian? Lan Wangji must be getting bored here by now.”

“I am home, Jiang Cheng. I’ll need to divide my time up a little, but I’m here for now.”

“I don’t need you here.”

“And yet here I still am. Get used to it. And order more alcohol, your kitchens ran out yesterday for the second time. It’s truly an embarrassment.”

“You’re the only embarrassment around here, Wei Wuxian. Don’t drink so much.”

In the time since the transfer, when Zhao Qing had returned Wei Wuxian’s core to him, Wei Wuxian had hovered over Jiang Cheng like a mother hen over her chicks.

It had grated on his nerves from about the second hour, now, it was just a constant irritation. Actually akin to how it had been in the past, really.

He knew why, he really did, and while he appreciated the thought, it was unnecessary. But convincing Wei Wuxian of that was impossible, Wei Wuxian never changed his mind, he was tenacious and stubborn, and he always thought he was right. They’d always had that in common.

Hopefully, though, Wei Wuxian would leave after the mid-year alliance conference, which was due to start in a few days. It was a short catch-up event, meant to build and improve on the agreements and plans that had come out of the larger meeting at the Cloud Recesses several months ago, and so it would only last a day, with a celebration feast in the evening to close. It would also be the first time Jiang Cheng had taken part in the wider cultivational world since Wei Wuxian’s core had been removed. It was safe to say he was anxious over how the world would react to him now.

Recovery had been slow, at least slower than he had wanted, so he pushed himself relentlessly, but at least the constant discomfort and pain, like having a rock in his guts, had gone. And the ever present fear of losing control was now refined solely to his temper.

There was still tenderness around the second incision wound, just below the first, now-white scar on his navel, that Zhao Qing had made; it was still pink and angry, although it would be even more so if Wei Wuxian didn’t wrestle him down and pin him long enough to feed him qi every now and again, usually when the wound was particularly troubling.

Mentally…he thought he was getting there. He hadn’t lied before, there had been some measure of making peace with everything that might happen, this was a definite step up from death, after all.

But it had still been a huge shock.

The procedure itself had been incredibly taxing. Although he had been warned, it hadn’t been the things they’d told him to expect that affected him. The pain he could deal with, and the sensations of his qi flow, of being able to guide and direct it, vanishing, was traumatic, but it was mostly due to the feelings and long buried memories it brought back to the surface. It had felt like being back under the power of the Wens, tied and helpless and begging for mercy as his core was destroyed.

It had brought the nightmares back with increased frequency, although they had never really gone away entirely.

If he felt a little adrift, a little lost, a little like an imposter again, it was to be expected. He was dealing with it the best he could.

Having Jin Ling at Lotus Pier like a protective, yet bad-tempered little bodyguard was actually a help. Not least because his nephew was trying particularly hard not to rile Jiang Cheng up into a temper too often. It wouldn't last, but it was nice while he had it.

Even having Wei Wuxian back, with all the annoyance and aggravation that man caused just by breathing, was a benefit.

As was Lan Xichen’s kind friendship.

He wandered back to the chest and took the scroll out again. It really was an exquisite piece.

“How do you really feel about Xichen-ge, Jiang Cheng?”

He almost dropped the scroll in shock at the question, so sudden in the silence that had fallen. He had almost forgotten. Forgotten that Wei Wuxian was there. Forgotten how shrewd he was behind that sometimes clownish exterior. And forgotten how well he knew Jiang Cheng.

“How do you really feel about broken legs?” But what was the point in pretending? Wei Wuxian already knew, or he wouldn’t ask. And if he decided to tease Jiang Cheng about it, no force in the world, not least Jiang Cheng’s denials, would stop him. “You already know,” he said instead, “you know me far too well to doubt it. We both know I’m in love with him. Like a whipped dog shown an ounce of kindness, ready to wag my tail and beg for scraps of affection. Isn’t that what I’ve always been like?”

Wei Wuxian sighed, which made Jiang Cheng turn to him in surprise. He had expected to be teased, but the other was exasperated with him instead. He didn’t understand.

“What?” he demanded, but Wei Wuxian shook his head.

“Jiang Cheng, Xichen-ge is courting you. Anyone else in the world would recognise it, but you’re so blind you can’t see it for what it is. Just don’t be an idiot when he asks you.” And there went the teasing.

“How can he be? Why would he? Lan Xichen..he’s everything, Wei Wuxian, and I’m nothing. I’m not even a cultivator now.

“I don’t know how to be amusing, or witty, or cute. I have a foul temper, and I don’t know how to let people in. I can’t even be honest about my feelings.”

Wei Wuxian spread his hands, helplessly, then walked towards the door. He paused on the threshold, and looked back, however, “You took me to task, a while ago, for treating you as if you were weak, as if you weren’t able to make your own, informed decisions. Do you remember that, Jiang Cheng?”

Of course he did. He nodded.

“You are not nothing. You are Jiang Cheng, courtesy name Jiang Wanyin. You are the Sandu Shengshou, a mention of your name is enough to make grown men tremble in their boots. You are Yunmeng Jiang; the bones that this sect, that rose from the ashes like a phoenix, are built up around. You did that, Jiang Cheng, not my core, not Lan Xichen. You.

“So maybe you should remember that strength that you promised me you had. That indomitable spirit that you said had walked through hell and survived. And perhaps you should do Xichen-ge the honour of accepting that, just perhaps, he also knows his own mind.”

It was a long time before Jiang Cheng could respond, and Wei Wuxian had long left the room. And the thought terrified him, but when had Jiang Cheng, courtesy name Jiang Wanyin, the Sandu Shengshou, able to make grown men tremble in their boots, ever allowed himself to be scared into inaction? “Perhaps I should,” he whispered.

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

The alliance conference came in the blink of an eye, and the morning passed in a whirlwind of arrivals, and social niceties. There was little time to give anyone, not even Lan Xichen, anything in the way of personal attention, and he had one huge hurdle to overcome before he felt he could actually address what may or may not be between himself and the Lan sect leader.

It was that afternoon, in the hall, where Jiang Cheng had to take the Lotus throne under the eyes of the assembled sect leaders, that loomed large in his mind. Everyone there, who didn’t live under a rock, that was, would likely know the truth. He was spiritually weakened now, coreless. But he had learned at the side of an expert, how to cast the facade of strength, of being an equal to these vultures. Wei Wuxian had swaggered amongst them for years, convincing them he was the most powerful being on the planet, and his ‘fuck you’ attitude had been an integral part of that, (and the demonic cultivation, which actually had made him one of the most powerful beings on the planet, but he chose to ignore that fact). If there was one thing Jiang Cheng had gained over the years, as he had grown up, as his sect had turned into the powerhouse it was today, it was a ‘fuck you’ attitude to rival his shixiongs’.

He stood outside the doors for a few seconds, Yang Hai and Yang Mei, the Sandu Shengshou’s faultlessly loyal Vipers, stood at his back, and at his shoulder stood the Yiling Patriarch, unusually serious, and well-behaved, but with the new look those that knew him well were just growing used to again, that being a Wei Wuxian who carried Suibian, although now her scabbard had been altered to add hooks to hold Chenqing too.

He had told Wei Wuxian his presence wasn’t necessary, with Yang Hai and Yang Mei there. Which was actually a sure-fire way of ensuring he would be there, because he was just that contrary.

“I’m the Chief Cultivator’s husband, I go where I will.” Wei Wuxian had argued, and Jiang Cheng hadn’t actually felt like pointing out that the Chief Cultivator’s husband wasn’t a political position, and even if it had been, that position wouldn’t have given him the right to march in there at the shoulder of the Yunmeng Jiang sect leader.

Because, he actually drew strength from knowing Wei Wuxian was there, and, curling the hand held behind his back into a tight fist, setting his face into it’s usual resting frown, fingers tightening around a sword he couldn’t use, until the knuckles showed white, he stepped forward.

It was quite a sight, no doubt, as they swept down the central aisle, and to the throne, and as he settled, flicking his sleeves out, and resting Sandu against the arm, he threw a look around the room.

There were speculative looks, neutral looks, nothing overtly confrontational. At least not yet. He tried to avoid the one gaze in the room that he wanted to to see, but it was the one he wanted to assess the most, and it was a losing battle. His eyes searched out Lan Xichen’s gently smiling countenance, and he felt something warm and nourishing grow in his chest.

It felt like the moment lasted for a long time, but it was likely mere seconds, before their gazes broke, and business, very much like during any other meeting, began.

It almost went flawlessly.

But, as Jiang Cheng spoke up in the midst of a dispute, someone decided to test the waters.

He would have laid money on Sect Leader Yao being the one to do it, too. He had dared to put Jin Ling down after the Guanyin Temple, because he thought the Jin Sect too weak to retaliate for a slight against one of it’s juniors.

For a man who had a strong moral compass, who claimed to be on the side of justice, he had something of a bully about him.

Still, the statesman in Jiang Cheng allowed his comment to pass, knowing overreaction to a perceived slight would come across as grandstanding from a position of weakness, although he heard Yang Mei let out a small breath of irritation.

Sect Leader Yao decided to push it further, however, and dared to ask why Jiang Cheng thought he was qualified, now, to try to railroad smaller sects.

Despite the fact he had been mediating, and had made no such move, it gave Jiang Cheng the opportunity he needed. He had hoped to get through this conference without a show of power, to give himself more time. But now, or in six months, or a year, it had always been something that would have to happen sooner or later.

He rose, and strode into the centre of the room.

A gesture, and Zidian crackled to life in his hand, her coils falling to rest around his feet like a purple snake, still and threatening, just as deadly in her readiness to strike.

“Yao-zongzhu. I know you think now might be the time to test me. But don’t ever make the mistake of assuming I’m weak, or defenceless. Stronger men, cleverer men, than you have tried to destroy me in the past, and failed. They’re dead. I’m still here, like a phoenix, rising again and again from the ashes of my enemies. I was thirteen when I formed my first core, our generation was quite precocious like that, under the threat of Wen tyranny it was cultivate and become stronger or die. How long do you think it will take me to form a second? With the foundation of thirty years training? Two more years? Three? I’m a stubborn man, too obstinate to know when I’m beaten, you see.” He sucked a breath in through his nose. “Now, may we continue, there is an excellent feast awaiting us after we finish here?”

As expected, Yao backed down, full of bluster and claims Jiang Cheng had misunderstood. He ignored him, and allowed Zidian to return to her resting state.

He had so much iron in his spine at the moment he couldn’t relax, as he sat down. He thought if he did, he’d sag, and reveal his exhaustion, his hands had retreated into the deep sleeves of his formal robes, to hide their shaking. The only part of his body that didn’t show his drained state was his face, which he kept carefully set in it’s frown. He had, of course, been too verbose, and as a consequence had had to use too much spiritual energy to keep Zidian active while he spoke, as a visual demonstration of his power, a reminder of who the Sandu Shengshou was.

He didn’t quite have as much foundation as he might have suggested, yet. But he was working hard towards it; he really was too stubborn to know when he was beaten.

He projected that facade for the rest of the meeting, and made it out of the hall in one piece. He even made it as far as an antechamber, where he dismissed Yang Hai and Yang Mei, and a hovering Wei Wuxian, ordering them to begin the feast, assuring them he would be there shortly, he just needed to meditate for a while, to rest for a few minutes and recover his reserves.

They knew he’d overtaxed himself as well as he did, and he was surprised this wasn’t one of the times he had to fight Wei Wuxian off, from his invasive sharing of qi, but the other went docilely enough, as if knowing Jiang Cheng didn’t have the spare energy left to argue.

He closed the door behind them, and slid down it.

The silent, wrenching sobs, a tangled mixture of exhaustion, relief that he had managed to pull off the biggest act of his life, and pent up emotions over everything that had happened over the past few months, grief, hopelessness, frustration, and anger all mixed together, wracked his frame.

Then, exhausted, he wiped at his eyes, let his head drift back against the door, and cleared his mind enough to meditate.

He couldn’t deny he felt lighter, the biggest obstacle had been overcome, now the rest was just hard work, which he had never shied from.

Well, there was one other thing, that caused his stomach to explode in a sudden fluttering of butterflies. He had promised himself, though, that after the alliance discussion, he would devote himself to the second issue.

A little while later the click of a jar being placed on the floor by his side drove his eyes open.

He almost wished he hadn’t at the dazzling sight of the First Jade of Lan, all pure white robes, and beatific smile, sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him.

The click had been a jar of alcohol.

He fought the urge to lift his hand to protect his eyes from the brightness.

He was about to ask how the other had entered the antechamber, considering he was still rested against the door, but he realised there was a window.

He hadn’t needed a door himself to crash into Lan Xichen’s carefully cultivated seclusion, and it seemed that the other had only taken a page out of Jiang Cheng’s book of impressive entrances.

He failed to hide the chuckle, which made Lan Xichen smile even wider.

Was it rude to tell a man to stop smiling because he was more blinding than the sun?

Probably.

“Xichen.”

“Wanyin.”

They were silent for a while after the greeting.

Then Lan Xichen broke it, “You were magnificent in there, Wanyin. Truly stunning.” Then, no doubt knowing how badly Jiang Cheng was equipped to deal with compliments, he moved on. “Dare I hope the Lan meditation techniques are helping in qi refining?”

He had felt the beginnings of a flush at Lan Xichen’s praise, but could do nothing but pretend it wasn’t happening. How should he respond to someone telling him that he were magnificent?

He really didn’t know. A simple thank you seemed...either like he didn’t care, or received such compliments at least once every Thursday, whereas the truth was no one had ever described Jiang Cheng as magnificent before.

Perhaps Lan Xichen’s seclusion had addled his mind?

But that wasn’t fair was it?

And perhaps you should do Xichen-ge the honour of accepting that, just perhaps, he also knows his own mind.

Wei Wuxian’s words had profoundly affected him. How could he want that for himself if he didn’t offer others the same respect?

“I have never felt magnificent in my life, Xichen, but I thank you for the compliment. The Lan meditation techniques are very useful, thank you again. I’m not always the best suited to them, I’m not always able to find the level of focus they require, but when I can, they’re incredible.”

A gentle smile was his answer, and another pause.

Jiang Cheng thought he knew...hoped he knew...what came next. And Wei Wuxian was right, Jiang Cheng wasn’t weak, he wasn’t a scared child, he was strong, he was driven, he had known what he had to do at every stage in his life so far, because it was what was expected, what was needed.

This time it had to be about what he wanted. He deserved that.

In one single leap, although admittedly, it was a slightly wobbly-legged one, he had closed the distance, and overbalanced the first Jade of Lan.

“Lan Xichen, I love you.” He said, ignoring the fact his face still burned, his embarrassment stronger than a thousand suns, and lowered his head to capture the soft-looking lips of the most handsome man in the cultivational world. He was met half way, and Lan Xichen’s arms found their way around his neck. It was regrettably short, but he poured his whole heart into it, and it was beautiful, as was Lan Xichen, who’s ears were just as pink as Jiang Cheng’s cheeks when they pulled apart, who’s well-kissed lips glistened in the evening light seeping in through the window, who looked at him with such love in his amber gaze.

“I love you, my Wanyin, you gave so much of yourself to me, so selflessly, when I had nothing, and you thought you were at the end, and must have had a million more important concerns that one lonely man stuck in the past, how could I fail to fall for you?”

His embarrassment intensified. How was it even possible at this point?

But love confessions required certain amounts of reciprocation, he wasn’t such a novice he didn’t know that.

“I only gave you what you deserved, what you’d give to anyone in return. Xichen, you’re kindness incarnate, and this cruel, vicious world might have taken advantage of that, but it never killed it in you, and that truly is the most amazing thing of all, a testament to who you are. You deserve to be treated like the beautiful soul you are.”

“And you like the treasure you are. No matter how much the world took from you, you still had more to give.” Xichen reached up to trace his cheekbone gently, “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, Wanyin, truly indomitable. Marry me?”

“Is tomorrow soon enough?”

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pauldron-pieces · 3 years

Text

Destrier Revel’s Backstory: Burn The Wicked

Fandom: Dungeons And Dragons (5E)

Pairing: N/A, Destrier-Centric

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: This is a hypothetical scenario featuring original characters in a world created by my Dungeon Master. As usual, this is non-canon and I own nothing aside from intellectual properties specifically attached to Destrier Revel. This installment is mechanically unsound in a multitude of ways and ignores certain important lore facets. Trigger warnings are listed inside. Enjoy!

Taglist: @sporadic-fics and @cookiethewriter!

Inspired By: Fire Emblem: Three Houses OST: Awakening and Ivan Torrent: Facing Fears

[Urgals are a monstrous race that seem to be a cross between ogres and orcs.]

[Destrier Revel is a level ten human Conquest paladin with six levels of Phoenix sorcerer, and his appearance can be found here.]

[And lastly, this is how I pictured Aetros Ad Astra.]

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains multiple triggering scenes, including vivid descriptions of gore, extreme duress and character death. Stay safe!]

He entered the temple warily, but not before removing his helmet. Destrier knew better than to assume whatever god this temple represented was dormant, and entering any place of worship with one's head covered was a nearly certain way of getting it separated from your shoulders.

This ancient stone structure was different from the clapboard Urgal constructs that dotted the hillside beneath it. Clearly, it was a relic of some bygone time or civilization.

Knowledge is power, Knight Revel. Seek it out, and we may yet win this war. With his late mentor's words ringing in his ears, Destrier proceeded with caution.

Brittle, charred remains crisscrossed the stones beneath his feet, crumbling to dust at his advance. The knight wondered at the thin layer of ashen debris that coated everything despite the lofty height of the temple. The winds that had whipped outside appeared to have gone still.

Further into the temple, far removed from the weak light that filtered in from the arched doorway, was an altar of some kind. Destrier squinted, trying to decipher the runes on the sides of the obsidian stone table with little success.

A soft crackling noise met his ears and for a moment he paid it no mind, too engrossed in the arcane markings. It was almost like a torch or a cooking fire was burning nearby.

Destrier straightened up abruptly with a loud metallic clank! , certain that he had heard words in that strange sound.

He is not one who would normally come to a place like this. The shine of armor does not gleam so in Our temple , the crackling voice mused softly.

"Where are you?" Destrier queried, turning in place and scanning the room. When he came full circle back to the altar, he was surprised to see a small flame flourishing atop the dark stone. "Show yourself!" He called, more than a bit perturbed.

We will not be commanded in Our own temple, foolish one . The voice sounded stronger now, a thick accent lilting through it as well as a touch of amusement. Grovel, and perhaps We will spare you .

Destrier's grip on his lance tightened momentarily, and then he dropped to a knee. "Forgive my impudence. Had I known this truly was a place of worship, I would not have spoken so rashly." The blond apologized. "May I know the name of the master of this temple?"

The flames sputtered and hissed, almost indignant in their noise. You may address Us as Garuda . First-Born of the Stars, Everflame, Light in the Darkness, Aetros Aegis, Ad Astra, et cetera, et cetera.

"Your titles are many and grand. How is it that I have not encountered any of your followers?" Destrier questioned, legitimately curious.

Somehow, he got the sense that the fire was preening. We have slumbered for many years, foolish one. The Urgals at the foot of this mountain have done wonders at keeping the outside world away.

"I am afraid they have all been slain. My men fell upon them in the dawn."

Such is your way. But why have you come here? The flame turned sly, what brings a warrior of your caliber to this place? Certainly an ordinary man would be pillaging the encampment .

"I have been sent out for more than that," Destrier replied. "I search for true victory; the ability to deal a penultimate blow to the enemy. One that they cannot recover from, that we may rout them completely."

Are you not a paladin? This is all you do . The flame said dismissively.

" Hear me , Garuda." Destrier implored, raising his head to watch the flames dance and lick over the stone. "The common folk do not ask for war. They do not ask for heightened taxes, food shortages or midnight raids upon their peaceful settlements. All they ask for is safety , and I cannot even give them that much!" Destrier clenched his fist. "Women and children starve to death in the cities that were supposed to be havens. The Urgals have learned over six years that to destroy our trade routes is to slit the throat of the army, and their savagery is not held in check for innocent civilians."

Knight Revel took a moment to get himself back under control while the fire in front of him flickered thoughtfully. When next he spoke, his voice trembled slightly.

"I would fight to my last breath for my comrades, for any member of the populace. I serve wholly to uphold the king's ideals. King Jonathan is a man of great wisdom and strength, I gladly serve him." The blond man hesitated, tamping down the memories of his mentor grinning wide in triumph, "I was given this missive because they believed in me."

You do not seek the power for yourself, then .

"What good is power, used by one man for one man's benefit?" Destrier asked sharply. He had never been overly invested in advancement for the sake of advancement. Becoming a squire at the tender age of five had seen to that . "My king and my mentor have charged me with this task, and I will see it through in order to extend my king's territories."

Interesting. You believe that there is still power out there for you to find? The flames questioned sardonically.

"I have no other choice but to believe. Our losses are catastrophic in the face of the numbers of the enemy." He could not bring himself to mention Leofore's name. The shame was still too fresh, not yet blunted by drink or the passage of time. "I have been sent to find the knowledge to turn the tides."

What faith are you of, paladin?

"I have no true faith. I am not a follower of the chantry, nor the monastery. My strength comes from my belief in my mentor and, in turn, my king." Destrier answered the question readily, his hand over his heart in the common indicator of sincerity. "I am unbound to any divinity."

This appeared to please Garuda greatly, satisfaction rolling off the small fire in waves of radiant heat. How very interesting . Faithless paladin, knight of a God king, We will grant you the power to try . Over and over if need be, until your war is won.

An enormous, spectral figure wavered into view behind the flame, their whole body somehow twinkling through and through with stars. Horns that curled like a proud ram's graced their head, and in their hands was a flaming weapon. This must be Garuda's true form , Destrier realized belatedly. The being gestured at him, urging him to rise.

Come, faithless paladin. We shall see whether you are able to be reborn in Our starfire. Take hold of the haft.

Knight Destrier Revel, loyal bondsman of King Jonathan, acting commander of a battalion he should not be leading, felt fear grip his soul. "What if I am unable? What if it is too much to bear?" He asked tentatively, leaving his lance on the floor when he stood.

What is the loss of one man to a God king? His own words, turned back upon him mockingly. We will not wait forever. Either take the plunge or let Us return to rest. Garuda extended the hilt of their weapon toward Destrier.

Knowledge is power, Knight Revel. Seek it out, and we may yet win this war . Leofore's words echoed in his head over and over, giving him the resolve he needed to steel himself. Destrier swallowed hard. "I must. I have no recourse." He finally whispered. Two hands reached out and took hold of the haft of the amorphous weapon. One moment it was a mighty axe, the next a spear with two separate blades.

Garuda chuckled, low and dark. Faithless paladin, you were drawn to Our power like a moth to Our flame. You are charged to burn the wicked and rule the ashes, rising again and again at the cost of your body and soul. Will you take Our power?

" Yes ." Destrier responded fiercely, his brown eyes aglow in the light of Garuda's fiery stars.

…

He awoke on ancient stone steps and for a moment, Destrier simply laid there. Overhead, the stars spun in their nightly dance.

His whole body was hot to the point where he was sweating in his armor. When he went to sit up, Destrier found himself unable to support any weight on his hands. He forced himself up with his elbows and levered onto the next step, finally achieving a semi-upright stance.

Something was very wrong with his hands. Destrier began the slow, clumsy process of unfastening the buckles on his left gauntlet, using his teeth instead of uncooperative fingers. But when he tried to remove the loosened armor, the pain was so great he nearly vomited. Gritting his teeth, the knight continued wriggling the armor until it finally released his hand.

Patches of his skin were entirely burned away or grafted to the inside of his gauntlet. His palm was down to raw tissue. Destrier saw bone . Bile surged in his throat again and he choked, clutching his hand close and drawing on the wellspring of healing power that his mentor's training had granted him.

Gods, Leofore, what have I done .

There on the worn steps with no one but the stars to witness his grief, Destrier wept for the loss of his friend.

/x\

His hands healed well, aside from the brand of the flaming haft that stayed squarely in the center of his palms and the inside of his fingers. At least they did not pain him or impede his ability to wield his lance.

Burn the wicked, rule the ashes . We will grant you the power to try .

The first time he absently lit a small fire with nothing but a snap of his fingers, the knight waved it off as a fluke. Naero took it in stride, just asking Destrier for a light instead of relying on Thranrok or matches.

Destrier found himself drawn to the battalion campfire at night, losing his train of thought for hours while he stared at the dancing flames or looked upwards through the smoke at the stars. If his compatriots noticed, they did not mention it. They were all still mourning the loss of Leofore; it mattered little where one of them found comfort or respite.

The knight slowly adjusted his armor to accommodate his strange new talents, star-shaped cutouts finding their way to his gauntlets that he may better utilize his fire in battle.

The first time Destrier fell in combat, that was a bit of a different story.

The Urgals had set upon yet another village, boldly doing it during the sleepy midafternoon. Destrier was sent out with his battalion, Thranrok and Naero alongside him. Gen and Argon had stayed behind this time, believing that their forces wouldn't be needed for this skirmish. The air was thick with the threat of an impending storm, dark clouds gathering in the distance even as the troops moved forward.

The battle quickly dissolved into anarchy. Destrier was cut off from his men in a suspiciously short period of time, the knight fighting desperately against the hordes of Urgals that descended upon him. There was a strangeness in these creatures, a new frenzy. Something had changed in their ranks.

The blond man whirled and thrust, his lance piercing the chest of one of the monsters that had been approaching from the flank. However, that left him wide open on the other side.

An Urgal warhammer caught him in the ribs so hard he was knocked off his feet. Destrier crashed through the side of one of the houses that lined the street, his vision fading to gray momentarily at the impact. He gasped and choked for breath, feeling his shattered ribs grate against one another as he tried to stand. The young man pressed a palm to his side, mending the injury hastily.

Stifled sobbing echoed in the space and Destrier turned his head, spotting the form of a woman huddled in the corner of the room with a baby in her arms. A shadow suddenly darkened the hole he had made in the wall and the massive shape of an especially formidable Urgal forced its way through in pursuit of the knight.

"Back, beast!" Destrier shouted, slamming his bracers together and then using the haft of his lance to catch the Urgal in the chest, stopping it in its tracks. His gauntlets heated rapidly and the creature shrieked in pain, jerking back with glowing handprints branded onto its leather armor. Destrier snarled, moving forward to press his advantage. He could do this. He could keep them safe-

The other Urgal's warhammer smashed into the side of his head. Destrier dimly heard a wet snap , and then everything went dark.

In the breathless silence, a bonfire roared to life.

Burn the wicked, rule the ashes. We have granted you the power to try. Over and over, over and over. Those who would lay hands on your body will not even be able to touch your shadow. Arise again, and again, and again.

For Leofore.

The paladin reached out to the void of stars and something too immense to name reached back, pouring into him with single-minded intent.

Destrier's eyes flew open. Stars and galaxies swirled hazily in his vision, the whole world tinged an odd, smokey gray. He knew, with a strangely clinical certainty, that he had been dead seconds before. He growled, sparks issuing from between clenched teeth as he grabbed the ankle of the nearest Urgal. His body was molten, his armor shimmering with the same heat that birthed constellations and warmed the very vacuum of space, but he did not feel it.

Destrier all but climbed the Urgal in order to stand again, searing marks into the tough skin as he went. The creature screamed and howled in pain, alerting his companion that the dead paladin appeared to still have some fight left in him. Knight Revel buried his lance in the creature's gut as thanks for being too slow to kill him again.

The woman in the corner had gone silent. Destrier prayed she was alive, but he could not spare the attention to check. His helmet had given way under the assault, one more thing for him to focus on. Have to lead them away from here.

The remaining Urgal retreated through the destroyed wall and the knight followed swiftly, his form wrapped in roaring starfire the second the fresh air from outside the structure reached him. The cosmos burned at the corners of his eyes, stars wheeling just outside his field of vision.

Burn the wicked, rule the ashes . Over and over his mind chanted the phrase, over and over until Destrier found himself mouthing it like a mantra. The air around him boiled and sang as though it was a living being and he snapped his fingers, flames smoldering at the hems of Urgal undertunics.

Destrier was more cautious now, even with this incredible power at his disposal. He wove and ducked around attacks, thrusting his heated lance into chests or stomachs wherever he was able.

"This is why you cannot let go of your weapon even for a moment." Leofore admonished as he helped the younger man back up. "One moment is all it takes for the enemy to gain the upper hand, Destrier. Never let your guard down, and do not be so quick to trust!"

Destrier nodded, accepting his practice lance back from the older man. "Thank you for your wise counsel as always, Knight-Commander Leofore." Leofore struck without warning, knocking Destrier's legs out from underneath him and toppling the blond once again.

The commander threw his head back and laughed, then crouched beside the fledgling knight currently flat on his back in the dust. "Do not even trust me , Knight Revel! It will only leave you with misfortune and more bruises." Leofore grinned.

Destrier shook his head to dispel the echoes of his mentor's voice, baring his teeth and snarling. True, his helmet had been lost in the fight. But he still had his lance, the fire and his wits. Naero and Thranrok were somewhere out there on the battlefield as well. As long as his surviving companions drew breath, he would continue to fight.

/x\

The battle was over.

Piles of embers smoldered in the streets, the rainfall coaxing wraiths of smoke to billow skywards through the downpour.

Knight-Captain Destrier stood in the middle of the main thoroughfare, steaming shoulders bowed under the weight of some no doubt cosmic burden. Naero rolled his eyes, sauntering up alongside the larger man.

He went to place a hand on his shoulder and then paused, feeling the heat that still rolled off his armor in waves. "Revel?" Naero queried slowly.

"Why do we bother with any of this?" The paladin responded with a question of his own, his words clipped. Naero circled around him to find that his arms were protectively cradling the body of a woman. "I could do nothing ." Destrier continued, voice thick with unshed tears.

He raised his eyes to Naero's and the elf was confused by the depth of emotion he saw there. This woman was a stranger, a civilian. Dime a dozen. But the way this buffoon was reacting, it was as if she had been his own mother.

A baby's sharp wail of distress interrupted the thoughtful stillness and Destrier flinched, clearly startled. "What?" He muttered in confusion, laying the woman's body on the ground and then clumsily pawing at the ragged shawl wrapped around her.

Naero saw the child at the same time as Destrier, his ears twitching in annoyance at the impressive racket the tiny creature was making.

"It's alive." The knight breathed, sounding shattered by the whole thing. "Gods, it's alive. Naero, it's alive ."

"Have you never seen a baby before, Revel?" Fick asked dryly.

"I couldn't find it, I thought the Urgals had eaten it while I was…" Destrier paused. "Gone," he finished awkwardly.

" 'Gone' ? Dare I ask where your flights of fancy took you in the middle of battle?"

"I died."

"Oh, I'm certain of that." Naero huffed. "More likely you've taken more hits to the head than you can recall, you dimwit. Where is that damn helmet you're so proud of?"

"Broken." Destrier gestured vaguely towards a house that was missing a wall. "I was killed, go see for yourself."

"' Go see for yourself ', he says. Like I'm a fool to doubt such ludicrous claims." Naero grumbled, begrudgingly picking his way around the piles of ashen corpses. "What absolute hogwash."

He fell silent upon actually seeing the inside of the house, his brow furrowed. True to Destrier's word there was his monstrously gaudy helm, caved in on one side and entirely missing the cheek plates. Blood and hair were smeared on the inside of it, as well as bits of what Naero could only assume was human skin. He grimaced, mind racing. Was Destrier telling the truth? Had he really been killed? Gany was leagues away though, how on earth had that buffoon managed to return from the grave without assistance?

"You listen here, Revel." Naero hissed, stomping back up to the knight and jabbing him in the chest with his index finger. "What are you playing at? What deals have you made, eh?"

"Just one." Destrier's honesty was, as always, a bit of a shock. "I am to burn the wicked that my king may rule the ashes."

Fick recoiled slightly. "Damn. It's been a while since I've heard those words." He muttered. He tilted his head back, narrowly studying the armored man who was carefully wrapping the squalling whelp in the remains of his cape. "Should I ask what you're planning on doing with that?"

"Leofore's battalion had several midwives in their ranks. I have adopted the same tactics." Naero did not miss the pained expression that flitted across Destrier's face when he mentioned their deceased friend. "I will take the babe to them and ascertain whether it can be saved."

"Pretending that you are as hardened as Leofore does you no favors, Revel." Naero said bluntly as his compatriot turned to depart.

"Neither does feigning indifference to the plight of helpless innocents, Fick."

Naero watched the other man start his long walk back to their encampment, the elf shaking his head ruefully after several moments. "Seems like this war just got a lot more interesting."

Part Two: For Leofore

#paladin backstory #a paladin and his god #destrier revel #backstory #basically every paladin trope I could squeeze in here #angst #character death #resurrection #I love Destrier so much #my big blond himbo #also shoutout to #wearepaladin #@wearepaladin #that blog is so good oh my GOD #conquest paladin #dungeons and dragons #dnd #dnd character #dnd 5e

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bcdrawsandwrites · 4 years

Text

For Unity By @jaywings and me

Rating: T Genre: Friendship, Angst Characters: urGoh, skekGra, skekSil, skekSo, skekTek, skekVar, urVa, urSu, urSol, urZah, possibly others… Warnings: A LOT OF VIOLENCE. Description: One was as vile and repulsive as his brethren. He murdered, and maimed, and reveled in it. The other was as slow and indirect as the rest of his brethren. He hated his dark half as much as the others did theirs. But who they were did not matter, for Thra saw its moment, and seized its opportunity.

---~~~---

Chapter 5: Interlude: Unaware Summary: In which perspectives shift.

---~~~---

Report on Further Gelfling Division

Prepared excellently for His Most Royal Highness who Reigns Eternally, by skekSil the Chamberlain

As per my last report, my Emperor, those Skeksis living outside the Castle have found that Gelfling clans grow more and more distrustful of each other. Even here in the Castle itself, Stonewood and Spriton guards in particular now find it almost impossible to patrol together.

This is excellent news, yes! The very proof that our efforts succeed! Mmmm… Though, of course, if hatred between Gelfling grows unchecked, so too do our own forces weaken. This problem must be dealt with swiftly.

Word has come from skekNa, who suggests that

There was a loud, echoing click, followed by a prolonged creeeaaak, and the massive library door pushed open.

“There you are!” a crisp, nasally voice exclaimed, and skekOk swept into the room. “I’ve been searching half the castle for you!”

SkekSil, seated at the large desk in the middle of the room, dropped his quill into the inkwell and fanned his partially-written report with his hand. “Looking for me? Why?”

“A Gelfling wants to speak with you.” The Scroll-Keeper sounded rather cross. “A Stonewood guard. He says he has something important to share only with you. And of course I am sent running about the castle like a hapless Podling trying to find you—Why are you skulking in my library again?”

“Ah, apologies, highest apologies, friend Scroll-Keeper!” skekSil simpered. “I will replace everything exactly where found. I am merely writing new report for Emperor—is so hard to find quiet place in Castle to sit and write. You understand, yes? Other Skeksis are so loud and obnoxious. Care not for written word.”

SkekOk huffed, some of his irritation evaporating—or, at least, switching targets. “Yes, I have noticed. Did you know, skekVar once spat rotten tubers all over one of my newly-bound books! Took me weeks to remove the stains…”

“Yes, yes, is clear why so few are allowed in beautiful library—”

“—Very few, in fact. How do you keep getting in here?”

SkekSil cleared his throat quickly. “Where is Gelfling who sent for me?”

“Waiting in the empty guards’ quarters. He said he would not feel safe speaking elsewhere. Awfully demanding, if you ask me.” SkekOk approached the desk and, to skekSil’s annoyance, bent to squint at his report. He clicked his beak. “And why have you put ‘mmmm’ in writing?”

SkekSil stood abruptly, almost knocking the glasses off skekOk’s narrow beak. “Yes! I go, now, to speak with Gelfling. Goodbye.”

He rolled up his parchment and pushed it into his sleeve, then strode out of the library, leaving skekOk alone to mutter something about “illiterates.”

So… a Stonewood Gelfling acting secretive, he mused. Hmmmmm… A complaint about a nasty fight with a Spriton, perhaps, something that he could add to his report? Or something more interesting?

He quickened his step, shuffling his way across the castle until he reached the guards’ quarters that were always empty this time of day. At this point he slowed, and pushed his way through the door and into the room.

Immediately his mood soured as he smacked his head on the extremely low ceiling. He scowled, rubbing the wound. Spit-faced puny Gelfling runts…

“Gelfling?” he called, forcing a sense of cordiality into his voice and removing his hand from his face, moving further into the room. It was wide, used as lodging for many guards, but with bunks stacked along the walls and floor so close together that it was difficult for him to edge between them. The room also appeared dark and empty. “Geeeelfling? You wish to speak to me?”

“Lord Chamberlain?” There was a rustle, a flurry of movement from somewhere to the right, and a nervous Stonewood Gelfling appeared from around one of the bunks, his pointed ears turned backwards. “My lord—thank you for taking the time to meet me—” the Gelfling fell into a hurried bow— “I’m not worthy—”

“Yes, yes, very true,” skekSil said, waving him off. “You say you have message for me? For Chamberlain’s ears only?”

The dark-skinned Gelfling blanched; his pupils constricted, showing more white around them, and his hands intertwined near his chest, fingers trembling. Something was clearly terrifying him, though whether it was from being in the presence of a Skeksis Lord (most likely not, as he was a guard at the Castle), or from the news he carried, skekSil couldn’t be sure. As the puny creature ventured closer, skekSil could see that he had partially-healed burns all down one side, which gave him a faltering step. Recent wounds, clearly, meaning he must have received them from the battle against the Gruenak savages. Unless he had perhaps had a terribly nasty fight with a Spriton.

“My name is Hiral, my lord, of the Stonewood,” the Gelfling, apparently fond of pointing out the obvious, said. He was wringing his hands now. “You told us all to report any strange behavior to you. Well, I was in the Gruenak battle,” —as skekSil had suspected— ”but I was hurt too badly to continue fighting,” —again, obvious— ”...I got too close to one of the fires, you see, and one of those metal-manglers pushed me… My patrol partner Nuren brought me up the hillside away from the battle to recuperate, and when it was almost over, I… saw something.” The Gelfling hesitated, looking shaken.

“Go on,” skekSil prompted, taking care to inject his voice with a gentle, comforting note, as though he were a caring parent. “Tell Chamberlain everything. Gelfling is safe here. Chamberlain gives word, Gelfling will never be in trouble for spilling secrets of Gelfling.”

“But that’s just it, my lord,” Hiral said miserably. “This isn’t about a Gelfling.”

SkekSil stood up a bit straighter and fixed the Gelfling with a stare, his attention fully caught now. “Hmmmm?”

Suddenly the guard’s nervous manner made complete sense. He wasn’t racked with guilt and uncertainty over the misdeeds of a fellow Gelfling—he had witnessed something done by a Skeksis at the battle. But who? And what? Certainly, it could not have been something done against Gelfling, or Hiral would likely not have trusted the Skeksis enough any longer to come and tell skekSil about it, or allow himself to be alone with him.

With this thought, skekSil loosened his posture, softening his eyes and ducking his head the smallest degree, making himself look as harmless as possible.

“Not Gelfling?” he cooed. “Hiral is wise to bring this to Chamberlain. Who, then, does Gelfling speak of?”

A smile twitched at the corner of skekSil’s beak. If it was skekVar, that would be delightful—the cretin was far too interested in getting close to the Emperor for his liking…

The Gelfling looked skekSil in the eye, let out a long breath, and said, “It was the Conqueror, my lord—Lord skekGra. I… I think he’s a traitor.”

SkekSil’s thoughts switched track immediately.

SkekGra? ...Though yes, he should have known… skekGra had been acting strangely since he’d returned from the Gruenak battle, most unlike himself indeed…

The Conqueror was not, and never had been, an obstacle to skekSil’s own plans. He had no political ambitions of his own—he seemed to be perfectly content exactly where he was. Perhaps a bit too content. He could even have been useful, if he were more cooperative, but skekSil had the growing suspicion that skekGra didn’t much like him. Ah well.

“Lord Conqueror was chasing a few of the Gruenaks up the hill,” the Gelfling explained. “I saw him reach them, but then… he let them go without a fight. I don’t know why.”

That was it? SkekSil couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. Still, he had never known the Conqueror to let an enemy live.

He shifted backwards, steepling his fingers. “And you have told no one else of this?”

“No one,” the Gelfling confirmed, and hesitated. “There’s… something else. It—it was hard to see in the rain. But some… creature appeared.”

Hiral looked up at skekSil, uncertain, and skekSil inclined his head slightly.

“It looked hunched over,” the Gelfling continued. “And it almost looked like it had four arms. It made me think of those stories you hear, about creatures that appear in the dead of night—four-armed wizards that steal Gelfling souls, and even the Hunter…” His voice wavered, and he seemed unable to continue.

SkekSil turned his head a fraction so that Hiral would not see the hint of a smirk on his face, though he could not keep his eyes from widening. “...Mmmm… Thank you, Gelfling,” he said. “Is best if Hiral does not concern self with this any longer, and leave Chamberlain to deal with matter. Now, is there anything else, hmmm?”

“No. That’s all. And trust me, I won’t tell anyone else about this...” The Gelfling sat down on the nearest bed, looking pained—his burns were clearly bothering him. He peered back up at skekSil with a hopeful light in his eyes, his ears lifting. “But my lord, what you said about- about bringing information to you—and the reward?”

SkekSil casually waved a hand. “Yes, of course. Gelfling will receive full day’s extra wages.”

“Sent to my family, please, my lord,” Hiral said quickly. “At Stone-in-the-Wood. My two daughters, they’re barely out of babyhood, twins… My brother’s been looking after them, and we don’t have much—”

SkekSil’s eyes narrowed slightly. SkekOk had had a point earlier—this Gelfling was entirely too demanding of his lords. “Of course, Gelfling. Of course.”

He turned swiftly and took his leave before the presumptuous guard could ask for anything else, exiting the barracks and heading toward his own chambers with a hum emanating from his throat and his mind whirling with this new information.

---~~~---

Yes… he eagerly awaited the return of the famed Conqueror.

Take your father's job and watch over the observatory, they said. It would be an easy job, they said.

But they didn't say anything about enormous monsters barging in, sneezing everywhere, and then falling asleep standing up! This had not been part of the job description!

"UrGoh! Ah! UrGoh!"

Throwing herself against his side for the fourth time, Fedle found the strange creature had once again failed to budge. She'd shouted at him, jabbed him with a finger, and even pinched his one of his weird wrinkly hands at once point, but nothing happened. What was she supposed to do with this great thing?! What happened to him?

Fedle stole a glance at Mother Aughra, who still lay softly snoring beneath the Orrery, and felt a tightness in her chest. Aughra had been there for many trine... how long had it been now? A decade or more since she'd last awoken?

She looked from Aughra to urGoh, a sudden worry gripping her: had urGoh fallen asleep as Mother Aughra had? Would he, too, be asleep for a decade or more? It was hard enough having to watch over Aughra, but this enormous beast? She couldn't even reach the top of his shoulder! How would she dust him?

But... no. Aughra was very clearly asleep, her eyes shut, while this beast's eyes were wide open, yet unseeing. She moved to his front, hopping up and down in front of him and waving, but again he failed to respond. Perhaps something had gone wrong with his eyes... if she could bring a stool up to him, she could get a closer look.

Grumbling to herself, Fedle grabbed a stool that sat near a tower of books and pushed it over to the front of the great creature, crawling on top of it to get a better look at his eyes. Perhaps something bright from the Orrery had shone into them and made his vision go funny? That had happened to her once, when a beam of light from the Great Sun hit the metal of the Orrery just as she happened to glance at it, and she couldn't see right for a good few minutes. If she could just block his view...

To her surprise and delight, it seemed to work—urGoh's eyes flicked downward to face the spinning crystal in his palm. Fedle hummed in approval, and was about to address him again when she saw... something.

Something wasn't right about his eyes, his face. It wasn't the unseeing look he'd had before—it was something darker, stranger, as though she were looking into the eyes of another creature entirely...

And without any warning, he collapsed.

Fedle yelped as his head knocked against her stool, sending the seat crashing backward and her along with it. Groaning, she pushed herself upright, and frowned at the massive beast. Well, if he hadn't been asleep before, he was now. But unlike the easy sleep Mother Aughra was in, urGoh seemed to have fallen into a troubled rest, his creased brows furrowing the already-deep wrinkles in his face. She hoped it meant that he wouldn't be asleep for an age.

As she got back to her feet, she looked over the creature's face again, but any sign of that... strangeness she'd seen earlier was completely absent. No, he was merely asleep, and seemingly having unpleasant dreams.

Well, whatever had happened... she was going to see to it that Mother Aughra paid her family extra for this mess.

---~~~---

With a final cry and a satisfying squelch of green blood, the last Arathim was dead.

SkekVar regarded his work with a contented snort. The dark Grottan caves, typically lit with a soft blue glow from the moss, now had a greenish hue to them from the sheer amount of Spitter blood that coated their stony floors. It was a rewarding sight—a sure sign of victory.

No thanks to a certain obsessive, foul-faced idiot who was supposed to be leading this entire campaign. He’d been absent almost the entire time!

Which... wasn't like him at all.

With a sigh, skekVar glanced in the direction of the tunnels he'd come through. In previous campaigns, he had never praised skekGra’s prowess in battle—not without a grumble of spite or a bite of sarcasm to his words, anyway. In truth, skekGra was never anything other than a competent leader in military conquest. It was the reason he was the Conqueror, after all. (In fact, skekVar had even stolen a few techniques from him—while calling them his own, of course—when leading military campaigns without the Conqueror.) Every battle skekGra led was a victory; every pathetic race he'd determined to stamp out had crumbled, with him at the helm.

So what had happened this time? The Conqueror had drawn up the initial attack plans, yes, but after that... he'd run off to chase down a few puny Spitters, and then disappeared. It was lucky for the Conqueror that they had won. If they had lost due to his absence, the Emperor would have flayed him with his own claws.

"Lord skekVar," one Gelfling said, and he turned to face her. It was too dark in these tunnels to make out exactly which clan she was, not that it mattered—these things all looked the same to him. "The Arathim seem to have been vanquished, but we have several wounded that need to be treated immediately."

SkekVar snorted. "Fine, do as you will." His blood-soaked claws itched to be scrubbed in the spa at the Castle, but he supposed skekSo and skekUng would be displeased if more Gelfling soldiers were lost than necessary. Numbers were important, after all—they were part of what helped the Skeksis win victories... alongside competent strategies. Speaking of which...

With another grunt, he turned back to the tunnels again, and raised his voice. "I need any able soldiers to follow me immediately," he said, and trudged back in that direction. Several soldiers fell into step behind him as he fished through his pockets, producing the crumpled map that skekGra had shown him earlier. It was hard to see in the dark, but he was pretty sure they were going the right way. If not... he could probably find the Conqueror by smell alone.

"If I may ask," one Gelfling said, "where are we going, my lord?"

"To find Lord skekGra." Part of him wanted to say something about the Conqueror's absence, but, tempting as it was, he kept his beak shut; speaking against the other Skeksis in front of these things might make the weaklings question their loyalty. The Gelfling knew nothing about the Skeksis punishment rituals, and never heard any negative talk of their lords. As far as they knew, the Skeksis were perfect, unerring Lords of the Crystal, as it should be.

Even so, he heard the soldiers behind him whispering in confusion. "I noticed he wasn't with us in the battle," one said.

"He saved Bayl from a Spitter! I saw it."

"But how come I didn't see him when we got here?"

"Silence!" skekVar spat, and the Gelfling all came to a stop at a fork in the tunnels. "I need to concentrate."

In truth, his sense of smell wasn't exactly hindered by their speech; he just found it grating.

Stretching his neck forward, skekVar drew in a deep, long snort, taking in the scents of the cave to figure out which direction they should go. He registered damp dirt, putrid Arathim blood, the muddled traces of various Gelfling clans, clay, and...

SkekVar froze.

He'd attended more than enough punishment rituals to recognize the sharp, pungent tang of fresh Skeksis blood. The scent was unmistakable.

His gaze drifted to the ground, where he could just make out dark splotches among the rocks and dirt, making a trail further into the tunnel. Vaguely he remembered smelling blood when he’d first come across skekGra in these tunnels, but the other Skeksis had seemed fine despite any wounds he might have borne.

Yet there was blood puddled on the ground, and skekGra had not returned.

“This way,” skekVar grunted to the Gelfling soldiers. He stomped down the path, his scowl fixed firmly on his face in defiance of his racing thoughts, which were beginning to border traitorously on panic.

Surely the Conqueror could not have succumbed to a few measly spiders. The Arathim had few battle techniques other than “screech and try to bite things,” and most of all, they were stupid. The Skeksis had nothing to fear from them except their sheer numbers.

So unless… skekGra had been overrun…

SkekVar quickened his pace, though snapped his beak irritably when he found that the tunnel became too narrow to walk upright, forcing him to awkwardly crawl through the dirt hunched over on his knees like a Gelfling infant.

The Gelflings behind him murmured their dissent as they followed.

“This tunnel gives me the creeps.”

“Is this really the right way? Why in Thra would Lord skekGra come down here?”

“I want to turn back. This isn’t worth it!”

No, it isn’t, skekVar silently agreed, though the fact that the Gelflings’ worries echoed his own was humiliating. How badly injured was skekGra, anyway?

Wounded enough that he couldn’t come back…

He didn’t know how long he crawled through the dark and the cold, how deep under the surface he was and how he would ever find his way out of here again.

“I think the tunnel is widening!” one of the Gelflings behind him said suddenly. SkekVar sniffed the air again, drawing his lips back in surprise. The air seemed fresher here, and he thought he could even see light up ahead. Where were they?

"Wait," one of the Gelflings breathed as they approached the light, "is this not...?"

"Yes! The Grottan have a Tree of their own, don't they?"

Tree? SkekVar shook his head. What in blazes were they talking about? What sort of tree grew...

The tunnel suddenly widened into a massive cavern, twined with roots snaking in all directions. SkekVar heaved himself up properly onto his feet again, staring up at the enormous, twisted tree trunk towering above his group. Well... that answered that question. Around him, the Gelfling let out exclamations of wonder.

"Wow, it is the—"

"Lord skekGra!" A shriek broke through the awed atmosphere, jolting everyone out of their reveries.

Shaking himself, skekVar tore his gaze from the tree to survey the area, and felt a freezing talon close over his heart.

There, lying in a heap on the ground, surrounded by pools of shining blood, was the Conqueror.

“Oh Thra…”

“I’ve never…”

"The Lord Conqueror! He's—" One of the Gelfling swallowed. "He's not dead, is he, Lord skekVar?"

"Of course not!" skekVar snapped, glaring down at the soldier, who cringed away. We cannot die.

...Can we?

He slowly forced himself to approach the other Skeksis' still form, scanning him for any signs of life, though truthfully he didn’t have a clue what to look for. SkekGra’s eyes were tightly closed, his robes torn and his helmet lying several feet away, the decorative ruff around his neck hanging raggedly by a few threads and revealing ugly purple bruises around his throat. Some unpleasant emotion that skekVar refused to identify stirred within him as he stared down at the lifeless body, his own going very still.

We are eternal.

"Ugh! What is that?"

Jerking up his head at the Gelfling's cry, skekVar was surprised to see that skekGra hadn't been alone here in the cavern. Lying a short distance from him was a much smaller figure, this one drenched in dark blood. Something about the smell of it was familiar to him—along with the metallic tang of blood was a clay-like scent, which was like... like...

"Gruenak?" skekVar murmured, leaning closer to it, but he did not step away from skekGra's body. "What's a Gruenak doing out here?"

Tipping his head, he glanced at skekGra once again, and the memory of a chance meeting in a lightless tunnel hit him in a flash.

I saw a group of three cowardly survivors fleeing down this way.

It hadn’t struck him until now that skekGra had never specified that his quarry were not Arathim. He must have been in enough of a hurry to assume skekVar would know what he was talking about. But... how could these creatures have survived? Had they not perished in that last battle a few days ago? The Podlings were still washing Gruenak bloodstains out of his other outfit!

"Could that scum have hurt Lord Conqueror?" one of the Gelfling suggested, staring in open disgust at the Gruenak corpse, and skekVar let out a hiss.

"The Conqueror should tell us himself," he grunted, and finally stooped down to shake the fellow Skeksis' shoulder. "SkekGra, get up! The battle is over! SkekGra!"

Behind him the Gelfling were muttering again, their voices pitched in anxiety. "Could Lord skekGra really be...?"

"But the Lords can't die, can they?"

"What if he doesn't wake up?"

"Quiet!" skekVar snarled, turning to glare at them. He pointed to the one of highest rank. "You, captain! Get out to Domrak, or the Tomb of Relics, or wherever the blasted Grottan are right now, and find a healer!"

"Yes, my lord!" the captain said, and charged back down the tunnel.

"Be quick about it!" skekVar shouted after him, and turned his gaze back to the fallen Skeksis. He tried shaking his shoulder again, and hissed when the Conqueror gave no response. "Conqueror, if you don't get up, I'm... I'm going to give your helpings of dinner to the Gourmand. He'll gladly take them!"

The other Gelfling soldiers were at either side of him now, staring down at skekGra's form silently. He could smell the terror on them, and it made his hackles rise. "Stop moping around!" He waved them away with all four of his arms, lashing his tail. "The Conqueror will be fine."

And yet, unwittingly, he pictured his lone return to the Castle, bearing two ceremonial staffs, with news of a sweeping victory for the Grottans but a staggering loss for the Skeksis…

Shaking the image from his mind, he glared at one of the soldiers. "Make yourself useful and see what else you can find here!"

While the remaining soldiers began a search of the area, skekVar stooped closer to skekGra, trying to listen for signs of... anything. He wished the Scientist were here. Vital signs and health fell under his area of expertise, more or less, so he should know, right? Either way, skekVar did not know, so he hummed in thought, wondering what else he could possibly bribe skekGra with to wake him up.

Slapping his tail against the ground, skekVar leaned in close again. "If you don't get up right now," he said, "then... when I get back to the castle, I'll go to your room, and—no, no, I'll have the Chamberlain go to your room, and have him do what he will with all those nasty puppets of yours. I'm sure he'd make good use out of them!"

He was almost certain he saw the Conqueror's face twitch, and he snorted in satisfaction. Even so, the other Skeksis did not wake up.

One of the Gelflings made a repulsed noise, and skekVar looked up, but it seemed the soldier had only found the severed head of the fallen Gruenak. In the dark, and in the midst of his... well, in the midst of fuming over skekGra, he hadn't even noticed the corpse had been missing a head. But they found nothing more, and skekVar resumed his watch.

"Hey, keep up, will ya? These tunnels aren't that hard to get through!"

SkekVar perked up at the new voice and turned toward the tunnels. A very young female Grottan zipped through the tunnel they'd come out of and landed neatly on one of the roots of the massive tree to survey the situation, a satchel swinging from her shoulder. "What seems to be the problem here?" she asked, as though it weren't obvious.

"Are you the healer?" skekVar asked, straightening his spine.

The girl brushed some dirt off of her outfit. "No, the healers are busy tending to the other Gelfling, so my mother sent me here."

Growling, skekVar eyed her—she wasn't even full grown. What in the name of the Crystal were these Grottan doing sending—

"Princess Argot," the captain gasped as he climbed out through the tunnel after her. "You must bow before the Lords. And I've been... trying to tell you..."

“Oh! I forgot!” the girl interrupted, and fell into a clumsy bow. “I’m Princess Argot, like he said. You’re the first Skeksis I ever seen, my lord.”

Princess, huh? What was that supposed to mean, again? It was always skekZok and skekSil who understood the Gelfling politics. The rest of them never bothered with it. SkekVar shook his head—whatever, it was a title, so she was someone of importance, though the mere thought of speaking to this childling like an equal made his skin crawl.

"It's Lord skekGra, Princess," skekVar said, gesturing to the unmoving Skeksis on the ground. "We believe he was attacked by a stray Gruenak."

"Hm, never heard of a Gruenak bef..." The girl trailed off as her eyes fell upon the Gruenak’s corpse. Immediately her demeanor changed, and she rushed up to it, placing her hand on its back. "Oh... oh no..."

Argot looked back up at skekVar, suddenly appearing every bit her young age with her wide, worried, coal-black eyes, and her ears turned back over scraggly blond-ish hair. “What happened here, my lord? These creatures were under my mother’s protection…”

Around them, the congregated Gelflings let out gasps, glancing quickly at each other. Some of them noticeably tightened their grip on their weapons.

SkekVar let out a puff of air through his nostrils, letting his beak open slightly in the beginnings of a snarl. “And who’s your mother, then, the Maudra?”

The Gelfling child’s eyes hardened slightly, though she still looked shaken. “Well, yes, my lord. They don’t call me princess for my shiny hair!”

“Hmph.” SkekVar bristled at the green-skinned runt’s snotty attitude, but decided that the matter at hand was pressing enough to let it slide. “Then the Grottan Maudra rescued enemies of the Crystal and placed them under her protection?”

Argot stood, her wings rustling and green skin going pale, casting fearful glances at the hostile glares of the other Gelfling. “Enemies? What do you mean?”

“We fought a battle against them two days ago!” skekVar growled. He struggled to remember the paltry explanation the Chamberlain had given to other nosy Gelfling asking the same question. “Those Gruenak savages stand against the Crystal of Truth and spit in the faces of the Skeksis Lords!”

“I didn’t know!” Argot gasped, scrambling away from the body. “Mother didn’t know! We didn’t know! Please, my lord, don’t punish us for this—”

SkekVar narrowed his eyes to dangerous slits. “Attend to Lord skekGra,” he said, “and we’ll see.”

The Gelfling princess immediately hurried to skekGra’s still form and knelt beside him, leaning close. SkekVar craned his neck slightly in an attempt to see what she was doing, but her back was to him.

“That poor girl is too young to see all this,” one of the Gelfling soldiers murmured behind him.

“Do you think they really didn’t know about the Gruenaks?” another on whispered to his friend, who shrugged.

“Who knows? The dirt-dwellers don’t care about anything on the surface. And they’re idiots. I bet this childling doesn’t even know the first thing about—”

“This Lord is alive!” Argot announced, and skekVar almost drooped with relief. The Gelfling under his command seemed to let out their own breaths, some even smiling at each other.

But skekVar’s relief dissipated almost at once. “Then why is he unconscious?”

“That, I don’t know.” The princess stood and paced around skekGra, striding with ease over the uneven roots strewn through the dirt, and rifled through her satchel. “He has burned and bleeding hands, a bitten shoulder—Spitter bite, of course—and bruises on his neck. We have healing salves for those things, but I think you’ll just have to wait for him to wake up on his own. And then he can tell you himself.”

“And won’t we be glad to hear it,” skekVar grunted, shooting a look of poison down at the Conqueror—though with this stunt, he may not be the Conqueror much longer. He waited with mounting impatience while the Gelfling girl cleaned and tended to skekGra’s piddly wounds and lifted his head to drip water down his throat; he muttered commands to his nearest soldiers for someone to mount their swiftest Landstrider and head for the castle at once with news.

At last Argot stood and crossed lightly back to skekVar, bowing low. “I think that’s all I can do for him, my lord. I don’t think he’s in any danger, but you should get him back to the Castle of the Crystal to have your own healers tend to him.”

SkekVar grunted. The castle didn’t have full-time healers, unless you counted the Scientist, but sure.

“My mother and I, as well as our clan, owe you our lives. We thank you for coming to our aid.” These words sounded practiced. Argot continued on, glancing back at skekGra. “And um… As for lifting him into a carriage… Maybe I can ask urLii for help?”

“Early when?” skekVar barked. “I’m getting him out of this place now. Just have to get him to the blasted surface.”

“Oh, that’s the easy part.” Before skekVar could say another word, the princess ran to the trunk of the enormous tree and pressed her hand to it, closing her eyes. After a long moment of nothing happening she blinked her eyes open again, looking at skekVar in surprise. “My lord, is there something special about this Lord?”

SkekVar snorted, tempted to say “absolutely not,” but decided against it. “The Twice-Nine are all extraordinary. Now, get us to the surface.”

But it was already happening. Tree branches reached down, wood creaking loudly, to none-too-gently wrap around both skekGra and, to skekVar’s simultaneous surprise and horror, himself, lifting them swiftly toward the sky.

He struggled against the restraints, but they did not slacken, and he looked down toward the cavern floor in alarm. The princess was still there, waving at him... rather absently, it seemed, for her gaze was trained on skekGra's unconscious form. Was she still worried about him, even after she'd said he would be fine? SkekVar glanced back at the Conqueror, only to give a start—he finally seemed to be stirring.

Before he could think on this much longer, the tree finally lifted them out of... itself, it seemed, before planting them a bit too firmly on the damp ground outside. At least the rain had stopped.

To skekVar's side, skekGra was beginning to murmur incoherently, eyelids fluttering open but not really seeing. With a frustrated grunt, skekVar stooped down to lift him up underneath his good arm. His armor made him heavy, but it was nothing skekVar couldn't handle. "Wake up, idiot," he growled. "We're heading back to the carriage."

"No... no... I can't... no..."

"You can walk just fine. You don't have anything wrong with your feet!" Snorting, he yanked the Conqueror forward, and the other Skeksis' legs seemed to obey automatically, though skekGra did not seem fully conscious. SkekVar shook his head and looked around them: they were atop a tall hill with that massive tree, and he could spot the carriage some distance off. It wouldn't be such a problem if he weren't half-carrying skekGra as it was, and he had to resist the urge to just chuck him down the hill. But the Emperor likely wouldn't approve of that, so he begrudgingly began the ridiculous task of helping the Conqueror down to the carriage.

"Have to... have to..." skekGra murmured, his eyes starting to drift shut again.

"Did you drink a gallon of ale with that blasted Gruenak before you beheaded it? Ugh."

It took a great deal longer than it should have, but skekVar finally managed to get skekGra over to the carriage. By the time they reached it, the Gelflings were already approaching, some of them rushing up to the two of them in concern.

"Lord skekVar! Is Lord skekGra all right?"

"We heard he was gravely injured!"

"Lord skekGra is fine," skekVar said, finally hoisting the half-conscious Skeksis up and shoving him onto the floor of the carriage. SkekGra groaned, but made no other protest, and the Gelfling soldiers did not dare argue. "I'll be taking him back to the castle immediately, unless he has any better ideas."

The two ceremonial staffs they’d brought fell on top of him, but he was out of sight of the Gelfling soldiers, and skekVar didn’t care enough to remove them. They’d brought those staffs for their victory celebration, but it was clear that no one was in any mood for celebrating.

SkekGra’s hands twitched. "H... have to... m-make... have to..."

Make what? skekVar wondered, only to smack his hand against his beak. Of course, he would want to make a puppet show of this, wouldn't he? If skekVar hauled him back to the castle without some souvenirs, he'd probably never hear the end of it. Snorting, skekVar turned toward a few Gelfling toward the back of the group—three of them that had just arrived. "You there! Get back into the tunnels and bring some Arathim pieces with you. Hack off some legs or something. We'll... um, be needing them. For important matters."

The three Gelfling exchanged exhausted glances, but obediently turned around, heading back toward the caves.

That settled, skekVar clambered up into the carriage and settled in his seat, looking back out over his soldiers. "To the Castle!" he said, and pulled the lever.

The armaligs jolted awake and began rolling forward, finally taking them away from what was feeling like a strangely bitter-tasting victory.

#skekgra #skekvar #skeksil #the dark crystal age of resistance #the dark crystal #urgoh #skekok #fanfic #my writing #my art #for unity #SORRY I'M REALLY LATE POSTING THIS CHAPTER HERE #THIS CHAPTER'S BEEN ON AO3 FOR A WHILE NOW BUT I JUST NOW GOT AROUND TO MAKING THE BANNER

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akumadeshitsumon · 5 years

Note

*Jehovah witness knocks on the door* Good sir, are you aware of your natural connection with the Divine father and what potential lies in your hands as His child? What, do you believe, is the significance of your existence in the greater scheme of things?

London, 1889.

It was a grey and rainy afternoon in London, as was so often thecase. Today the rain did not pour, but rather camedown from the sky in a dismal drizzle that did not look like much,but nevertheless left any that spent more than a few minutes in itsoaked to the bone. Animals and humans alike hurried along thestreets, and even though darkness had not yet descended onto the citythere was a distinct grey tone to the light that made it to Earththrough the thick layer of clouds. Sebastian noticed allof this through the townhouse’s kitchen window, which was coveredin hundreds of tiny drops of water. This made it rather hard to seeoutside, but only a glance was needed to know what the situation waslike. It was very fortunate that his master’s plans for the afternoondid not involve any outside activities, because Sebastian was notkeen to expose himself to the cold and the wet. It would not make himsick, of course, but even so it was deeply unpleasant.Therewas a knock at the kitchen door, distracting Sebastian from hismusings about the weather. It was quite common for deliveries to bemade around this time of day, so Sebastian did not think twice aboutopening the door. What he saw there was not quite what he hadexpected. Instead of an unhappy delivery person carrying heavy cratesor riding a cart stacked high with barrels, he found two bedraggledlooking humans in bland grey clothing, looking entirely too cheerfulfor people who had so apparently spent all afternoon in the rain.Water was quite literally dripping out of their clothes, and when oneof them shifted position Sebastian could have sworn he heard waterslosh in their shoes. Before he could ask the pair whattheir purpose was, one of the men launched into a speech atastonishing speed. It was impossible to get a word in edgeways, soSebastian was forced to listen as the man expanded on the history ofChristianity, the true Christian faith, and most of all why joiningtheir movement would apparently save Sebastian’s soul from the firesof hell and lead him to salvation. It was such a torrent of wordsthat Sebastian was momentarily stunned, which was most likely theeffect that the man had intended. As soon as he realisedwhat was happening, it took most of Sebastian’s willpower not to rollhis eyes. Terrific. Religious fanatics, who had ironically chosen theleast likely household in all of London to pitch their story to.Sebastian had heard stories of suchnew and audacious groups coming over from the colonies, but this wasthe first time he had encountered them in the wild. They certainlyseemed persistent - the front one was still talking, clearlypassionate about the topic of divine salvation, while the one at theback nodded emphatically at every definitive statement. The topic ofhell also came up,though it was not described in avery favourable manner.Sebastian almost laughed out loud at the inaccuracies in the man’sstory about hell, but managed to keep his face straight until the manended his impassioned plea with some questions. “Goodsir, are you aware of your natural connection with the Divine fatherand what potential lies in your hands as His child? What, do youbelieve, is the significance of your existence in the greater schemeof things?” Sebastian’s lip twitched, but he managednot to smile. Despite his annoyance he could not help but be amusedat the irony of this entire situation. “I am very aware of myconnection to your Christian God,” he replied, showing but themerest hint of a smirk on his face. “As for the significance ofmy existence, as a mere butler I rarely have time to contemplate suchmatters. Now if you would excuse me, I have some work that I have tocomplete.”He made to shut the door, but the man whohad not yet spoken had the audacity to stick his foot between thedoor and the door frame. There was a thunk and a grunt of pain, butthe man did not remove his foot, forcing Sebastian to open the dooryet again. “Good sir, please reconsider! The well-being of yoursoul is more important than any earthly work.” A hand was thrustthrough the half-open door, holding a rather soggy pamphlet entitled’Zion’s Watch Tower and Herald of Christ’s Presence’. Aquick glance revealed it to be moreof the sameclaptrap.Thesepeople were really getting on his nerves, but they would not go away.The louder of the two was now quoting passages from the pamphlet inSebastian’s hand, attempting to keep Sebastian from fully shuttingthe door. His efforts were, of course, entirely futile, as Sebastianwas much stronger than any human being could hopeto be, but these humans werequite persistent. Sebastian had a feeling that even if he were toshut them out they would not give up, and so he decided on amore extreme countermeasure. So far Sebastianhad been keeping the door half-open,blocking the two men from entering the house,but now he flung it wide, which took both men completely by surprise.The one whose foot had been blocking the door took a step backwards,and the other one who had been holding the doorwas forced to let go in a hurry. Hestumbled and almost fell, butsomehow righted himself again just in time.Sebastiandrew himself up to his full height in the doorway,which grew inexplicably darker with every passing second.Without saying a word he held up the pamphlet, stared the loud mandead in the eyes, and lit the soggy paper on fire in his hand. Theman’s face blanched. Sebastianwinked. “A word ofadvice,” he said, as the two men seemed momentarily frozen infear. “You might wish toproperly inform yourselves onwhom you are speaking to about heaven and hell before you start yourlittle lectures. A moment or two of reflection may serve you well inthe future. Have a good evening, gentlemen.” As he closed the door he heard thetwo men scramble down the steps and take off down the street,frantically chanting their prayers in ever rising voices. Sebastianshook his head. Honestly, he should probably not havedone that, but it might befor the better. He was reasonably certain that these people wouldnever come back to this house after that display, and they wouldprobably warn their colleagues in the city as well. Sure, therewas a very slim chance that theywouldreturn to perform an exorcism, but Sebastian had experience with suchoccasions. In fact, he almost hoped that they would try. It would probably be very amusing.

#akumadeshitsumon #ask Sebastian Michaelis #Ask Sebastian #Sebastian Michaelis #Kuroshitsuji #Black Butler #answer post #anonymous #sorry this took so long anon #it was a bitch to edit #also people please note that this fic does not express my personal opinions #story time

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firebirdsdaughter · 5 years

Text

Random Writing Demo 2 + Edit?…

… No videogame in the world ever released two demos in such quick succession. DX

There goes my metaphor.

The rest still holds, though! This is definitely rough around the edges, and I don’t know if it will be the same in the final version.

Long Post.

This is also known as the moment when trying to refer to everyone got really confusing… ^^;

This Demo occurs after the events of the previous one. But how did we get here?: Before they leave the house, the brothers make Ui promise not to say anything to the others. With their departure, Ui is left to try and get the trio back to their senses alone, as her father is on an extended field expedition. This proves difficult, as the three are quite devastated. As time wears on, she begins to make some progress, but becomes increasingly concerned when they continue not to hear anything from Touwa and Banba. But just when she’s about to forgo her promise and tell the trio everything—despite how painful it would be—there’s a pounding at the door. Ui goes to investigate, but finds nothing there—at least, until something on the ground catches her attention…

Ui stumbled back into the room, wavering on her feet, her face paler than a sheet, hands shaking. She seemed to be trying to say something—her lips were moving, but nothing came out, even as she repetitively pushed something, cupped tightly in her trembling hands, toward them.

Then she stumbled, and started a sharp plummet to the floor. That was enough rouse Asuna to movement, at least, flashing forward to catch the other girl in her arms. After some scrambling, they got themselves in a more comfortable position—Ui leaning frailly against Asuna’s side, still trembling like a leaf, while Pink had her arms wrapped around her shoulders.

“Ui!” Melto’s voice voice was blurry and slow, but it gained urgency as he sluggishly struggled to his feet and moved to her, taking her hands in his. “… You’re bleeding.” Kou shambled over to stand by Blue’s shoulder, peering at what he saw. There was, indeed, red smudged on Ui’s fingers and knuckles, in a familiar pattern they all recognised from scrapes they’d had in the past.

But Ui shook her head frantically, tears brimming in her eyes. Finally, a shred of her voice slipped through. “… Not… Not me…” She mumbled. Then her breathing hitch and she burst into a loud sob. Her hands began to shake so violently that what she was holding slipped from them, falling past Melto’s hands; two small, light objects. On some subconscious instinct, Kou dove forward to catch them—stepping back, he lifted them up to see what they were.

He froze. A necklace and bracelet, each with a pendant zigzagged like a lightning bolt, with a coloured stone set in the side of them, dangling from a braided black cord. The latch of the necklace was snapped and the bracelet cord was ripped—like they had been wrenched off their wearers. And he knew them. Had seen them hundreds of times before, including just that morning, before everything went to hell. He didn’t need the colour of the stones to know who they belonged to.

And as he turned them over in his hands, he realised what Ui meant.

There were dark blotches on the latch of the necklace and on both pendants, of a rusty brown colour; and when the cords brushed his skin, they left dark red smears like the ones on Ui’s hands.

Ui wasn’t bleeding at all. The blood wasn’t hers.

“Those are…” Melto whispered, slowly releasing Ui’s hands to step closer to Kou and peer at the pendants. “Then…” He glanced between the red on Ui’s hands and that on Kou’s. “Then… That’s…” He trailed off in horror.

There was a very long silence.

It was broken by a whimper. “They were… On the ground… On the door step…” Ui sobbed. “… Just… Left… On the ground…” Her breath hitched, and her lip was quivering. “… It’s my fault…” Her voice cracked, and tears began to pour in earnest down her cheeks. “It’s my fault… I should never have… I should never have let them go…” She put her head down on Asuna’s shoulder and began to cry into Pink’s shirt.

“Ui…” Asuna finally found her voice, shaky and weak, squeezing Ui’s shoulders—just a little too tightly, her knuckles paling, though Ui didn’t seem to notice. “… Let them go where?”

“The… The clones…” Ui stammered softly, unable to raise her head from Pink’s shoulder. “They went to fight the clones…”

Melto’s jaw dropped. “Wh… What? Alone?” Ui merely nodded.

Asuna looked between the other two. “… You… Don’t think…” She murmured faintly, “You don’t think they were… Trying to… Protect… Us?” Her teeth sank into her lip so hard it cracked a little, and she blinked furiously—fighting back her own tears in favour of rearranging her arms around Ui, shifting her hands so that they were clenching fistfuls of the other girl’s shirt rather than her arms so as not to accidentally hurt her.

Blue gazed dazedly back at her, realisation dawning on his face. His shoulders slumped, and he leaned heavily against the table. “So that… We didn’t have to…”

Kou just stared at the pendants in his hands in silent horror. Between Touwa’s speed and Banba’s skill, it would be nigh impossible for anyone to get close enough to remove the pendants from them at all. The damage could have meant they were removed in a struggle, but the blood… He couldn’t stop thinking about when the items had been whole, about the last time he’d seen them on their owners—clinging to Banba’s chest, Touwa’s hands on his and Melto’s shoulders. Green’s hand had been warm, and Black’s heartbeat had been strong and steady through his vest. Just a few hours ago, both had been very much alive. And now… Now they had nothing but blood on a broken necklace and bracelet.

Kindness costs.

Had the brothers paid for his, Melto’s, and Asuna’s hesitation with their lives?

Ui’s phone made a sound, and the screen lit up, making everyone else look at it. Ui tried to reach and pick it up from beneath Asuna’s arm, but her hands were shaking too badly and she only succeeded in dropping it immediately. Melto wobbled upright and retrieved it instead, unlocking the screen in the practiced way he’d achieved after watching Ui do it multiple times.

Looking at the notification, he frowned. “A news alert…?” He shot a glance at Ui, who merely shrugged weakly, going back to leaning on Asuna. Melto’s frown deepened, and he tapped the screen to open the link.

It looked like an ordinary news broadcast—except that the banner running across the bottom of the screen was addressing them directly, demanding their attention. Blue touched Red’s elbow to make him finally look up from staring at the Black and Green pendants. For a moment, the camera was pointed at nothing, and then a hand appeared from offscreen, spinning it around, to focus on…

Kou’s breath stopped.

The clone was still a perfect copy of Master Red in image, but the look in the eyes was completely wrong—void of the kindness and affection that belonged there. And even though he couldn’t stop the way his heart still swelled instinctively at even just seeing his mentor’s face again, there was now a cold prick of realisation; from what Ui had said, the brothers had gone to confront the cloned Masters, and never come back.

That meant that this person, with the face of someone he’d loved and respected, was responsible for the bloodied pendants in his hands.

“This is a message for the three pathetic excuses for knights who ran away.” The fake declared, staring out of the screen like he could somehow see them through it, “And you’d better watch, because this will be your only chance to hear it.” Utter silence filled the room, save for Ui’s muted sniffles. The clone heaved a deep sigh, pacing across the screen. “Your cowardice has forced us to resort to more… Extreme measures.” He came to a short stop, spinning on his heel to face the camera again. “Because you have been so… Unwilling to accept your fate, it has become necessary for us to seek out some more effective… Motivation.” He smiled, then—a frightening, sadistic smile that looked so wrong on that face that Kou almost threw up. “I trust that, by now, you’ve received our gifts.” Red’s hands subconsciously tightened on the pendants in his hands, squeezing so hard the metal bent slightly. “Then you’ll be relieved to learn…” The clone stepped toward the camera, and slowly turned it around, away from him, “… That your precious deserters are still alive.”

All of them let out a collective breath of relief. On the screen were, indeed, Banba and Touwa. They were both chained up to stone pillars in what appeared to be the ruins of another temple, and both looked distinctly worse for wear—but they were, without a doubt, alive. Touwa was fidgeting against the restraints, and though Banba was slumped against the pillar he was secured to, even on the tiny phone screen, they could see he was breathing.

“… They’re alive…” Melto managed, reaching blindly for the table to stable himself. “Thank goodness…” Ui blubbered for a moment, almost smiling—then began crying anew, diving back into Asuna’s shoulder while Pink patted her back—looking ready to faint, like a weight too heavy for even her had been lifted off her back. Kou collapsed into a chair, cradling both the necklace and bracelet to his chest, his grip easing slightly, fingers unlocking.

But the relief quickly became tinged with dread. The phone screen was small and a little hard to see, but there was a wound above Touwa’s elbow and one on his head, blood running down his arm and smeared across his forehead—and there were probably other, smaller injuries that they couldn’t see on the video. Banba, meanwhile, was even worse—it looked like the only thing keeping him upright was the pillar he was chained to; there was an ugly stab wound in his shoulder, another large gash across his chest, and they couldn’t attribute how pale he was to the video quality alone.

And the cruelty they could see in the fake Master’s eyes was the opposite of reassuring.

“Well…” The clone in question mused, stepping back onto the screen with his arms folded, casting a faux thoughtful glance at the two hostages, “… Just barely.” His gaze flicked back to the camera, “And whether they stay that way depends on you three.” A few steps brought him back to the centre, staring directly out of the video again. “Meet us at the entrance to the southernmost temple in four hours. If you don’t…” He sent a dark glance over his shoulder at the brothers, the twisted smile creeping onto his face again. “… The next delivery might be even more bloody.” With an equally terrifying chuckle, he sidled back a step “Don’t worry. Maybe we’ll only kill one of them and give you a second chance. Black doesn’t seem like he’ll last much longer, anyway.” For a moment, the clone pretended to consider again. “Though… Perhaps that gives the perfect opportunity to… Reenforce the message.” He gave some sort of hand sign over his shoulder.

Movement in the background made them suddenly realise that the fake Master Blue and Master Pink were in the scene too; they had been standing in the shadows, but at the clone Red’s signal, they both came forward. The fake Pink produced a RyusoulKen—one of the brothers’—and set it against Touwa’s chest as if to ensure he would stay still. Green was clearly as bewildered as they were—at least, until the fake Blue moved threateningly toward Banba.

Touwa went insane. They could hear him shouting for the clones to stay away, and he began kicking and struggling; but the chains and the sword edge against his chest kept him in place. The clone Blue ignored him completely, nudging Black in the arm with his foot once, like he was checking for a reaction—because when their other hostage shifted slightly and winced, he seemed satisfied. Moving closer, he proceeded to set his foot directly on Banba’s injured shoulder and stepped down on it sharply.

For a moment, nothing happened. The only sounds were Touwa’s protests—though Kou would swear he could see Black’s teeth gritting and his hands clenching as he held it in. But then the false Blue twisted his foot and stepped harder, and even the Majestic Knight’s will broke.

They’d seen Banba in emotional pain before, when Touwa had been hurt. But this was different. Equally awful to hear, but also somehow more horrible—an agonised, broken scream that sounded like it was being dragged from his lung by claws. A cry that all of them knew was going to be permanently burned into their memories as one of the single worst sounds they’d ever heard. The fake didn’t let up, either, and the sound continued, pausing only sporadically when Black tried to breathe.

Ui clamped her hands over her ears and tried to hide in Asuna’s mantle, while Pink closed her eyes and ducked her face into the other girl’s hair. All the colour drained from Melto’s face, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head in horror, but he didn’t look away, even though his hand was shaking almost too badly to hold the phone. Kou clutched the pendants in his hands so tightly, it felt like they were cutting into his palms. On the screen, Touwa had resorted to begging them to stop, his voice cracking.

Finally, the fake Red made another gesture, and the Blue clone moved back, taking his foot off Black’s wound. Banba slumped against the column even more than before, trying to catch his breath while his brother called his name. The fake Pink stepped away from Green as well, tucking the RyusoulKen she was holding back under her arm.

The clone of Master Red turned the camera around to focus on him again. “Four hours.” He reminded them impassively, “Or it’s going to get much worse.” The malicious smirk flashed once more. “Do try not to be late?”

Then the feed cut.

There’s more to this, but demos are supposed to cliffhang to keep people interested, right?

Am I cliffhanging right? I hope both the Demos did cliffhanging right… DX

#Kishiryu Sentai Ryusoulger #Random Writing Demo #Firebird Writing #Firebird FanFiction #my precious Dino Children #and now for something completely different #XD #poor Ui #poor all of them actually #I'm very sorry I'm the one doing this to y'all #^^;#Birthday Sentai #Dino Dragon Knights And Their Cat #(not so much on the sexy here sorry DX)

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levi-happiness · 5 years

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Self-Para - 2,598 Word Count - May contain triggering content

“You’ve really seen better days…” Levi murmured to himself as he adjusted the nozzle of the power hose from one hand to the other attempting to shake off the tingling sensation the machine usually left behind after prolonged use. Cantering his head towards one side, he allowed both large dark eyes to scan over the vehicle before him trying to determine the best approach to remove the dirt and grime that had built up along the groves of the 1969 Dodge Charger. “Dddd-dd--ddon’t wanna cause the window to crack mmm-mmmmm...mmm..more….” Pursuing his lips together he took a step back further analyzing the problem before him from a different angle in hopes some brilliant plan would come to mind without resulting to the extreme. Much to his dismay, his efforts were fruitless no matter how many solutions came to mind. Total removal of the back window.

A long defeated sigh filtered through the young male’s nostrils while pitching the bridge of his nose, mentally calculating how much the custom order glass panel would cost. The hand which held the power wash nozzle began to flick and rotate at the wrist using the end of the dripping device like a pencil which drew out the numbers the gearhead was quietly mumbling out loud. “You’re going to c-c-cccccc...cccc..ccost a lot old girl,” He grumbled after a minute or so. With a disgruntled snort, he placed the nozzle back on the hostler only to turn his attention towards an older male mumbling some sort of apology for interrupting him.

“You’re fff..fffine. What is it?” Levi asked arching a brow which completed his neutral yet quizzical expression, a facial expression he had seen multiple times stretched out across his uncle’s features whenever he spoke to their men. Even his fathers had mastered the act of looking just interested enough yet stern and composed. It wasn’t a role the young brunette was used to. Not by any stretch of the means yet with this new found profession of his, he had to shape up. Step into this role as an intimidating boss to men who simply didn’t know any better.

“That interviewee is here. You said to come get you when they arrived?” The older, gruff looking male stated. “Assume I should tell the guys to take ten out back? Be scarce?”

Furrowing his brows together at this piece of news, Levi did his best to wipe off his hands drying them off enough to fetch his phone off a nearby workbench. Quickly he swept his thumb over the screen which causes the device to illuminate revealing not only the time but a little notification reminder of the same said interview the older male was talking about. “Ahh...yeah. Make it fifteen. Everyone’s bbbb..bbb...bbeeen working hhhh-hhhhard today. Maybe we’ll finally get another engineer.” Levi offered a small amused smirk before waving his hand silently dismissing the lackey who was quick to notice the hand gesture and quietly slipped away.

It took several minutes before Levi was sure his men had cleared out of the warehouse, a tactic he preferred so no one knew could remember faces if they were deemed unsuitable to join their team. Which was fairly ironic considering the person he was about to interview he had only spoken via text messages which wasn’t something Levi enjoyed doing. Yet this guy came with raving reviews from one of his auto body technicians. “They better hope they live up to their reputation…”

Content that he was alone, he walked over towards the front of the warehouse peering towards the half-open garage door which allowed a far bit of fresh air to waft into the otherwise stuffy workplace. Squinting he attempted to peer through the blaring sunlight which made it difficult to see anything besides blinding white light and shades of green. Typical when suddenly walking from a dimly lit area to a brightly lit one. Upon finally finding a silhouette he was mildly surprised well as embarrassed to discover this interviewee was a woman.

Mentally he kicked himself for assuming but figured the woman was used to it by now considering the profession she had chosen years ago. “Ne, sorry to keep you waiting. Was ff-fff-fff…” Pausing, Levi took a small breath trying to prevent himself was stammering too much. “Was finishing something up in the back. You’re Kasuga right?” He spoke up running a hand over the side of his neck attempting to collect his nerves and his own insecurities about the verbal tick he possessed. Scuffing his foot against the ground, he took a step closer only to freeze when a familiar voice emitted from the woman who was still turned away from him.

“I haven’t heard that stutter in over a year….” The woman mused in a tone that could have been misconstrued as jeering instead of pointing out a simple fact Levi knew all too well. Turning around, the woman peered towards the young male with a ghostly smirk etched across her features which held similar traits such as the gearhead. From the large dark eyes to the more narrow jawline. She even had the brown hair which came naturally, judging by the roots along her hairline, just like Levi. “I should be hurt that my own son has avoided my calls and attempts to reach out, but like any good mother, I simply assumed you were busy. That was it? Right?”

Memories came flooding back to Levi hearing his mother’s words stream out, reminding him of the times when he was little how she would cast the blame onto him all while appearing innocent. Guilting him for harmless behaviors or simple forgetfulness. Lifting his chin, he squared his shoulders preparing to defend himself, wanting to explain the exact reasons why he avoided her venomous self, yet he was robbed of his opportunity when she began to speak again, this time, approaching him.

“Imagine my surprise when my boyfriend told me about his boss; a young man with a brilliant mind, a stammer, and a face just makes him look like jailbait.” She started ending her sentence by reaching out to brush soft lock of hair out of Levi’s face, barely brushing her fingertips over the young man’s face. “Now it couldn’t have possibly been my son, my little Hime...but like you, my dear boy, I was so curious by these minute clues that I just had to investigate. After some digging I discovered. It. Was. You.” Each stressed paused was followed with a seemingly playful tap to Levi’s nose which curled up in disgust that his mother had the audacity to be so bold and touch him. A small involuntary hiccup caused stomach bile to surge up into his mouth burning the back of his throat both reminding him how long it had been since his last meal and the disdain for his biological mother.

Swallowing hard, he took a step back attempting to put distance in between them. Already he felt his hands trembling from the mixture of fear and anger steadily coursing throughout his entire body. Once more he tried to speak, opening his mouth which was becoming increasingly dry only to hear a different voice come out. Her’s. Her voice. Her stealing any chance he had to explain himself like she always did. Narrowing his eyes, he followed her movements watching her move towards a nearby wall which held various of tools which she had to touch. Had to stroke making it seem like she held any sort of interest for their worth or what their purpose was.

“My boyfriend, who I would have told you about if you hadn’t ignored me, was just as surprised. You wanna know why…?” Humming, she turned on his heel slumping her shoulders which somehow matched how she shook her head in disbelief. “I’ll tell you why. See, I remember a little boy being so determined to never turn to this sort of life. He told me, again and again, he would never ever become like my...what did you call him...scumbag boyfriends. Which I suppose is what I should refer to you know is it now? Anyways, that’s beside the point. You, Mister, said you would never become some gangster of any kind yet...look at this...a budding car empire. Almost makes a mother proud.”

Levi watched as she pursed her lips and tilted her head towards the side, indicating she was thinking or least making it appear like she was lost in thought. He hated how some of his subconscious habits stemmed from her. However, knowing that it would take her a second or two before coming up with yet another little quip, he seized the moment to finally throw out his two cents on this entire situation.

“You nnnn-nnnn-nn-need to leave. Nnnn...nnnn...nnow. Yyyyyy.yyy-yyou cccc..caaannnnn...can’t be here. Get. Out. T-t-ttttt-ttolld you ttttt-ttt--the llll...lllaaahhh...last time www.w..w.ww...wwe sppppp..spoke that would bbbb..bbb-bbbb…” Utter and absolute shame cascading over Levi upon hearing himself completely butcher this grand speech he had his head. Not only was his stammering increasingly worse but all the jabs he wanted to take were nowhere to be found or rather heard. With trembling hands, now rolled into fists, he attempted again wanting to let his woman know exactly what he thought about her bizarre catfishing.

“Oh Hime…” His mother hissed reaching for a breaker bar that he purposely slammed against the workbench causing the younger male to flinch shying away from her. Slowly she made her approach again. One step at a time. Each move calculated so one foot would move in front of the other giving her gate a sultry almost intimidating stance. That breaker bar was now held in a loose almost careless grasp which allowed it daggle along her thigh. Her posture was confident which was evident by how her chin was held up high, her shoulders rolled back and her lips turn downwards in a frown that could have easily been mistaken for anger or displeasure.

Her body language was the complete opposite compared to her son who was now cowering away, curled into himself physically trying to prevent her from snatching or swinging the metal rod at him. His gaze was casted away just enough to avoid her gaze but not to miss any sudden movements. Another sudden metallic clank against one of the massive support beams caused him to flinch nearly toppling over a hood a car that he had failed to notice while putting distance between him and his mother.

“I wouldn’t be so demanding if I were you. I happen to know things that could ruin this little empire you are trying to build. Things I’ve kept my mouth shut for a very long time on…” Sneering out the words, she raised the breaker bar and jabbed it into the centre of his chest pinning the paler than usual gear head against the hood of the car. “Now listen here. You are going to listen to me as all good little boys do when their mothers give them requests.” She started leaning over to peer down into her son’s face to best of her ability. Frustration soon caused her to reach for his chin forcing the young man who was struggling to get free to look directly at her. “Quit. It.” Upon hearing the snap, Levi released a small whimper and simply nodded his head in defeat while fighting back against pinprick tears pooling around his lower lashes.

“Good...good boy....now...you are going to take care of dear mommy. Give her a cut of the profit. Help her so she doesn’t have to live in worry again. You will make her life easy. After all, she gave up so much for you. Do I make myself clear? Do. I?” While she spoke, the breaker bar was gradually pressed against Levi’s chest applying more and more pressure until he found it difficult to breathe without pain shooting from the blunt end of the metal rod. All he could do was releasing a spluttering whimper and nod his head slowly physically acknowledging her request.

A pleased glint lit up the woman’s large dark eyes causing her to back off just enough to allow Levi to swallow down a gulp full of air that was instantly released when the back of his mother’s hand grazed itself over his cheek again. Her gentle cooing praises fell upon deaf ears as he squeezed his eyes shut refusing to look into her face any longer, not wishing to see the satisfaction smeared across her face. “Thank you, my dear Hime. Thank you for being such a good son and taking care of your mother. Promise that no one will ever find out what you did or what I know about this little operation. And you know who to give the money too.”

Levi could only shrug his shoulders upwards subtly trying to press back against the hood wishing that it was possible to phase through the solid object in attempts to get away, but a firm squeeze reminded him there wouldn’t be any sort of escape unless she allowed it. The hand which held his chin firmly slowly turned his head allowing his mother to place an unnecessarily long kiss against his cheek. He wanted to shove her away when her warm breath wafted over his now clammy skin, hating how it caused the hair to stand on end across the back of his neck and along his arms. He wanted the smell of her that was now suffocating her. She had invaded his personal space in every sense of the term and he was powerless to stop her.

“Remember, mommy loves you.”

Releasing her grasp against the younger male, the woman stepped away watching his son slowly lower himself until he was kneeling on the ground before her. Her expression, which Levi would have noticed if he had the energy to peel his gaze away from the floor, was null and void of any sort of paternal affection which she had so proudly proclaimed to have for her son. There wasn’t even a fading trace of remorse or shame with the actions she had perform. It was just stoic which matched her steps that sounded hollow as they reverberating off the tall walls of the warehouse.

Levi who found himself mentally and physically checking out only came too when a loud jarring noise echoed from the breaker bar being so carelessly tossed against, bouncing then rolling along the concrete floor. Instantly a painful sob emitted from him followed by deep near hyperventilating breaths. His hands slowly splayed themselves across the cool floor attempting to push his body up off the floor, but his legs refused to work and his arms seem to have forgotten just how much strength they possessed. “Ahhh….” He wailed painfully between labored breaths. Frantically he began to pat himself down trying to find his phone needing to call someone. Anyone.

Each hasten breath caused his vision to blur and his head to spin, tall tale signs that he wasn’t getting enough oxygen in his panicked state. His fingers kept curling, scraping his nails against his palm instead of clutching the device he desperately needed in that moment. Gritting his teeth together, he forced himself to take in a single deep breath using whatever ounce of self-control he had left to force the phone out of his pocket and blindly dial a nail. Swaying, he slowly sank further until his forehead was touching the ground providing some sort of comfort as he listened to the familiar ringing tone.

One ring….Two ring...three ring….four ring….a voice.

“.....Dad…..”

#.self para.#.closed starter.#.private.#( posted here for reasons )

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omgviolette12 · 5 years

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Ten, For The Price Of One Chapter 3

Summary: Loki, also known as “Agent One,” is tasked to invade the life of a potential killer, who decimated multiple members from the criminal organization, Morte. Known for his silver tongue, this mission is just another walk in the park for our God of mischief, or is it?

Words: 3100+

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Shameless smut

Pairing: Loki/ Original Female Character

Chapters: 3/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

A/n: I hope you all enjoy, feedback greatly appreciated :)

As always, AO3 sees it first. Link HERE

Taglist: @shockwavee

______________________________

They arrived at the mall after only twenty minutes of walking, with Nya pulling Loki along excitedly.

As soon as they entered, he wasn’t surprised at the attention they garnered from their silly “disguise.” Nya, however, remained unfazed as she practically dragged him to every male clothing store she set her sights on.

While shopping, he was forced to play dress-up as Nya deposited multitudes of clothing into his hands, feeling as though the trip was more so for her than himself. Oddly enough, he didn't seem to mind.

Her excitement was almost contagious, and he couldn't help but feel a small smile tug at his lips every so often as he watched her antics. At least the mask had some use.

When he went to pay for the clothing, Nya's eyes bulged comically at the sight of the black card he gave to the cashier. She wanted to pry once again and ask about his line of work, but decided to keep quiet.

She didn’t want to put a damper on things, or annoy him too much. He was the closest thing she had as a ‘friend’ for such a long time, and she was eager to have him stick around.

After they had visited almost every male store she could find, Loki felt a sudden burst of graciousness, and decided to buy her some clothing as well.

“What..?! We came here for you, you don’t need to waste any money on me,” although she said that, it had been a long while since she last bought anything new to wear. The offer was extremely tempting.

“Don’t worry about that, pet.” He casually placed a hand on the back of her neck, moving her hair aside to stroke it absentmindedly, “It’s merely one of the many ways I plan to show my gratitude, for allowing me to use your flat as a safehouse. Think nothing of it.”

Nya blushed, suddenly feeling a bit shy. She pulled down the mask to show her mouth, “Hehe… it’s nothing really. Like I said before, I appreciate the company,” Nya then looked up at him, a curious expression on her face. “Hey...I’ve been wondering for a while now...why is it that you always call me ‘pet’?”

Loki chuckled lightly, a teasing tone to his words, “Perhaps it’s because you’re cute like one?” He leaned in a bit closer to her ear, “Or... perhaps it’s because you beg so nicely like one as well?”

Nya swatted his hand away from her neck playfully, pouting. “There’s never going to be a pure moment with you, is there!”

He smirked slightly, “Not as long as you’re with me, darling. Now choose a store of your liking.”

_______________________________________________

Entering a store, Nya looked to Loki as she approached a clothing rack, “Hey, what do you think I should get? I made a bunch of suggestions for you, so it’s only fair you get to do the same,”

Loki didn’t care too much, so he made a suggestion offhandedly, “Perhaps something that’s not a dress?” He inferred that dresses were all that she owned, since in those two months he watched over her, he had yet to see her wear anything else. Granted, she could just love wearing them for whatever reason.

Nya pulled a face, obviously displeased with his suggestion. She murmured a ‘fine’ before moving to explore the store.

Despite his valued opinion, however, she skipped towards him with a bundle of dresses in her arms. She then pointed towards the back of the store unashamedly, in the direction of the dressing rooms. The store was barely occupied, so the dressing room area was free of unwanted crowds, with a few salespersons here and there scattered about.

“I’m going to go and try some of these on, stand outside and wait for me!” When Nya moved to enter a room however, she stopped abruptly when she noticed that Loki intended to enter with her.

Flustered, she pointed to the sign on the front of the stall, “Hey, one person per room! We can’t let them see you getting in here.” He ignored her with a smile, still attempting to enter the stall.

She pushed on his chest even more when she noticed he had no intention of stopping. She looked side to side nervously, “I know you don’t care about rules or whatever, but listen to me just this once? I don’t want us getting kicked out…”

He looked at her for a moment, a mischievous smile on his lips as he obliged her request, “I was merely teasing, pet. It’s so fun seeing you get all flustered.”

Nya gave him an indignant glare before closing the door. “Just give me ten minutes!”

But after thirty minutes, she showed no signs of leaving the stall, only making a few muffled grunts here and there.

When Loki was about to inquire if she was okay, he heard a squeaky yelp and a small thump. No longer caring for her propriety, he shoved open the door which she neglected to lock.

If he did not know any better, he would have doubled over in laughter at the sight before him. She was hunched over, her body in an awkward angle as she tried to untangle herself from the dress. “It...It’s more complicated than I thought…” she wiggled her body slightly, which caused his eyes to wander towards her lower regions. “Mind… uhm.. helping me out a bit?” Nya felt really embarrassed at this moment, still trying to fight her way out of the dress.

With the way she wiggled, swayed, and struggled, it didn’t take long for Loki to feel himself harden significantly. He smiled a dirty smile, “Of course. Allow me.” He made sure to lock the door behind him.

Nya jumped, startled when she felt him cup both of her breasts in his hands. “Hey...! I said help me, not cop a feel...!” She gasped as he started to knead her breasts lazily in his palms, his fingers slowly circling her nipples. Her arms were still very much trapped within the confines of the dress, leaving her quite vulnerable to his ministrations.

“I believe I’m doing just that,” He tugged at a nipple, earning him a small, cute yelp. “As you said, this dress is quite complicated. Allow me to… figure it out.”

A hand went into the opposite direction of said dress, the other still teasing her nipple. “Loki…! The dress isn’t down there -” He interrupted her when he started to rub at her pussy, stroking up and down between the lips through her underwear. She then felt him press against her backside, slowly grinding his hips - and erection - against her ass.

“Thankfully, I’m quite the experienced disrober.”

Nya actually didn’t want him to stop, but the worry of being caught weighed on her mind. And yet, the thought of it also increased her arousal tenfold.

“Loki..if you.. uhh.. keep going ... they're going to..to.. hear us,” he moved a portion of her underwear to the side, slipping a single finger inside her wet folds. Her legs shook violently at the insertion, willing herself not to moan.

Nya was now leaning against the door of the stall, panting heavily as Loki continued to fuck her with his finger. She was now getting hot, the dress that was still tangled over her head slowly becoming unbearable.

She wiggled slightly with his finger still inside her and managed to tug an arm free from underneath the dress. She grabbed his hand with her free arm, stilling his movements.

“ Actually help me out of this, and I promise to... let you have your way with me. Deal…? ”

At that, Loki chuckled darkly, “I'll hold you to that promise, Nya.” He removed his finger from inside her, a long string of arousal following as he did.

“You've already gotten this wet…” he mused, licking his finger clean of her juices before he helped Nya free herself from the confines of the dress.

Nya breathed a sigh of relief, twisting her neck side to side before looking behind her towards Loki, who had a firm grip on her waist.

She was now completely nude, aside from her underwear that was tugged to the side. “Since I've helped you so graciously,” he removed a hand from her waist to free his straining cock from his pants, “ I believe it's time we make this 'date’ much more memorable. Do try to be quiet.”

Loki wasted no time slipping into her warmth, her walls clamping down on him deliciously. Nya placed a hand over her mouth to muffle the moan that threatened to escape, her eyes tightly shut together in pleasure.

He groaned in delight at the sensation, “I swear I'll get addicted to this cunt of yours, darling girl.” He started pumping inside her slowly, taking his time to savor each and every sound that made its way from her mouth.

He began to pick up his pace, pushing Nya against the stall door with each hard thrust.

She was struggling to keep her silence, tears forming at the corner of her eyes as he proceeded to fuck her mercilessly against the dressing room door. She balanced one hand against it, attempting to steady herself against the brutal pounding.

However, perhaps due to the sweat on palms, her hand slipped from the door when he delivered one particularly hard thrust.

A loud thump! resounded as her forehead made contact with the door. She yelped loudly at the unexpected impact, which alerted Loki from his lustful daze.

Unfortunately, it also alerted a salesperson who happened to be in close proximity at that moment.

“Uh… miss ...? Are you okay in there?” A male voice sounded from the other end. Nya, being nothing short of mortified, remained silent. Despite their precarious situation, Loki seemed totally unbothered. In fact, an evil smile made its way unto his devilish face.

Nya caught sight of it, a sense of foreboding washing over her. He lightly tapped the side of her ass, nodding his chin to the door. He wanted her to speak.

With a beet red face, she tried to gather her wits before she attempted to talk, “ Y-yeah, I just - yeep!!”

Loki had started moving inside her again. And not at all slowly.

“...yeep?”

“I- I mean... I just n-nipped my back...with the.... um... zipper,” Nya sent an angry glare from over her shoulder as she stumbled over her words. Despite being obviously angry and ashamed, she felt a steady pressure building in her stomach, signaling she was extremely close to coming. It seemed the danger of almost getting caught turned her on endlessly.

“Uh… need any help? I can call my co-worker over to-”

“No!” While she meant for it to sound casual, it instead sounded as if she ran ten flights of stairs. She came hard at that moment, her eyes and legs twitched violently as the orgasm suddenly washed over her.

Her walls became impossibly tight against around Loki’s cock, causing him to throw his head back as he groaned inaudibly in pleasure. He came soon after, the warmth of his cum filling her completely.

Seeing that she refused his help, the salesperson did not stay any longer. He wandered off, sparing one last look at the stall.

They were now alone, panting heavily as they gradually came down from their sexual high.

“Loki.. that was… way… too close!!” She tried to sound upset, but it seemed she was too blissed out to care.

“Close, but extremely worth it.” He pulled her up against him, kissing her neck apologetically, “You just felt so incredible, my little pet. Sopping wet, and all for me.”

Loki pulled out of her then, cum leaking from her pussy as he did. Really, this is the second time he had cum so much. He’s had his fair share of women, and never had he filled a woman up with so much of his seed.

Nya whimpered at the sensation, feeling herself once again becoming painfully aroused at his words. However, she righted her underwear before she could get any funny ideas in her little blissed out head. Surprisingly, Loki helped her put on her dress and clean her up, before doing the same to himself.

They took everything Nya had selected to the register, catching a few side glances from the salesperson who had interrupted their tryst in the dressing room. He probably deduced what really happened, since the face mask did nothing to hide redness on her face. That, and she also walked a bit funny.

After their brief romp in the department store’s dressing room, Nya seemed to glow even more so, a grin stretched from ear to ear underneath her mask. He had never seen her so radiantly happy before.

When they came upon the exit of the mall, Nya spotted a small photo booth at the corner.

“Loki, can we take some quick pictures? Just as a souvenir,” She dropped the shopping bags in front of the entrance of the booth, clasping her hands together in a pleading gesture, “Pretty please? You did say I beg nicely,” To prove her point, she put her puppy eyes to maximum use.

Loki thought for a moment. He did take her a bit too roughly, so he acquiesced on the basis that it was the least he could do to make up for it a little.

They took off the masks and shades, stepping into the booth shortly after. During the session, Nya had continuously made funny faces at the camera, goading him to do the same constantly. His face remained impassive despite her efforts, with the exception of a few lip quirks when she made wild gestures with her arms.

They exited the booth, Loki trailing behind her as she went to collect the pictures from the machine. She held two sets of pictures in her hands, her eyes going to inspect the ones in her left.

In an instant, her smile faltered significantly, and her skin turned impossibly pale.

He noticed the change instantly. “Nya? What is the matter with you,” he stepped a bit closer, which caused her to look up abruptly from the pictures.

There was no mistaking what he saw in her eyes. Fear. Confusion.

She hurriedly put on a smile, nothing like the one filled with the happiness he witnessed moments before, “Oh...I’m fine, really! Haha... I just went a bit overboard with the faces,” She handed him the other set of pictures that she held in her right hand, before shoving the other set into a tiny purse. “Here, I’ll give you the best ones.” He took the pictures from her slightly trembling fingers, inspecting them closely. Apart from her goofy expressions that went from one extreme to the other, nothing looked out of the ordinary. Perhaps embarrassment had finally caught up with her?

Seeing that they were finished there, he took her small, pale hands into his own before leaving the mall.

___________________________________________

On their way home, Nya still looked a little pale. She was not as bright and cheerful as before.

“Are you sure you aren’t feeling well? We can stop somewhere to rest,” He asks concernedly, his eyes moving up and down for any sign of sickness.

“Oh, no! I’m pretty fine, just a little tired. You gave me quite the workout, after all,” She laughed and waved it off, before trying to reassure him, “I get tired a lot easier these days, it’s no biggie.”

He did not completely believe her but decided to press no further. If she said she was fine, she was fine.

Regardless, he took most of the shopping bags from her arms, and she did not protest when he did.

As they walked, a couple with two large huskies approached them from the distance. Nya hid behind Loki instantly, grabbing his shirt with balled up fists.

“What, are you afraid of dogs, pet?” Loki inquired amusedly, watching as the couple came closer to them on the pavement. She merely gave him a small nod, eyes locked unto the approaching dogs warily.

Although they were barking and scampering loudly, they looked to be quite friendly. When they made eye contact with Nya however, something odd happened.

Not only did they start whining and whimpering, but they also started to bark crazily as well, all while trying to run away frantically as they made their way past them. The owners struggled to keep them under control, hurriedly moving along.

She stared after the dogs long after they left.

“Come along now, Nya.” He pulled on her hands gently, turned her towards him, “They’re long gone now, you needn’t worry about them.”

She looked down, smiling sadly, “I.. I’ve always wanted dogs, you know. I love them so much, but they never seemed to take to me,” She shook her head, plastering a smile on her face, “But you’re here to keep me company now, so I’ll make do without one for the time being, haha..”

“Did your grandmother not allow you any other pets?”

“Oh.. she did. But they always ran away, sooner or later.” She smiled sadly at the memory of her grandmother, “I miss her so much. I would just sit in her room all day for comfort, writing away in my diary. We shared one, it was a kind of bonding experience for both of us.”

Loki listened intently, prompting her to continue with her story. “I had a lot of nightmares. I still do, sometimes. I would wake up, feeling so weak and disoriented. She was always there for me at those times,” She laughed suddenly, perking up a little, “I tend to sleep-walk, so I always gave her quite a scare. She used to tease me all about it the next morning.”

She sighed, looking up to stare into Loki’s blue-green eyes. “Thank you for today...truly.”

He did not know what else to do, but to kiss her forehead with such gentleness he did not know he possessed, “It was my pleasure.”

They arrived at the front of the book store eventually, the skies now dark. Nya grabbed her keys to open it, while Loki glanced over to the apartment across the street. Ever since he went undercover, they had been under constant surveillance. He would have to make a report eventually, lest reaper became impatient. Reaper - real name Odin - was a troublesome old fellow to work under. Although their father-son relationship was already on thin ice, Loki couldn’t put it upon himself to take the mission seriously.

In the apartment, several agents including Odin’s right-hand woman - “Widow” - were tasked to lend aid whenever necessary, and to receive reports from him periodically. He found himself in no rush, however. He would take his sweet time exploring every inch of his cute little killer, and he was going to enjoy every second it. It seemed she was a bit incompetent in matters between men and women, and Loki felt compelled to teach her everything he knew.

He supposed he would send a report, eventually. He recalled that Odin had very much wanted to know every color of her undergarments in his little rant. He would surely grant his request, and send a highly detailed report of his findings.

When they entered the store, Loki failed to notice that Nya had also glanced across the street, her bright brown pupils now dark.

__________________________

A/N : As always, please tell me what you think~

#loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki fic #Loki Laufeyson #tom hiddleston fanfiction #loki (marvel)#loki odinson #Tom Hiddleston fandom #Loki Fandom #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic

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randomxfiction · 6 years

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I apologize if this took too long. Before you start, here’s a nice warm hug. As always, thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoy.

A/N: This won’t make sense if you haven’t read the first two parts. Links for previous chapters at the end of the post.

KakaSaku // Soulmate AU Part III of III

Slow, dreadful weeks had passed since that damned day. A tired and casual Kakashi in his old shuriken-pattered PJs finally emerges from his bed, starting his day with a pair of half-lidded eyes. The sunlight peeks faintly from the cloudy sky as the remnants of a recurring dream fade away from his memories. His sheets were still cold from last night, and the winter breeze has made his windows icy. Indeed he is back in Konoha, complete with snow-capped rock faces and white-cloaked roofs.

After a few quick stretches and a couple of yawns, he still feels lightheaded from the lack of sleep. His nights have been fairly longer thanks to a series of unproductive contemplation-- formulating numerous scenarios that he knows could never turn into reality. From the moment he stepped out of the Hidden Fate's temple, until today, the thoughts swirling his head haven't stopped even for a second. Ultimately, for some reason, the warmth of the place seeped through his usual detached self, and there, lingered. It is quite for the peace that fallen upon Konoha these days, that his duties as Hokage are almost always not critical. A couple of towering paperwork on his desk, Leaf festivities here and there, and the occasional Kage summit. Honestly nothing major. The young, rising jounins of the Leaf have been extremely dutiful with their respective tasks, thus further minimizing his job to take care of the higher, more complex decisions. Still, this doesn't mean that he can stay up all night to spend his time for random, aimless musings about.. a girl. All the more, a former student. A freehand run over Kakashi's head, scratching the mix of silver and pink that springs messily above it. He definitely hates feeling like a sloppy, crushing teenager.

But no, he thought, she's not just a girl. Better yet, she's not the same student he used to teach and scold and desperately save whenever her life was in trouble. This girl had matured more than just in beauty, strength, and intellect-- but also in her unwavering kindness. Something that he will always be proud of as her teacher. "Fuck it." Cursing under his breath, he forcefully shakes his head clear. It's time to yet again start a day in the office despite the frosty, morning breeze. As he slips in his Hokage robe, his stance and expression shifts in a snap from the sluggish sleazeball to a highly dignified shinobi. "You are the Rokudaime, Hatake Kakashi," he scolds to himself, "You cannot indulge in this." A simple chant before fixing his hat in place, and he trudged his way through the snowy pavement. ***

"Hokage-sama??" His personal advisor greets him with a pair of widely surprised eyes. "Morning, Shikamaru." Kakashi strides straight to his desk, obviously hiding his usual lethargic mood by sporting a pretentious, overly-focused facade. Hat and robe neatly worn, he then proceeds to scan through waves of unfinished reports he left yesterday. "Please do me a re-run for today's tasks," he asks in a borderline commanding tone. "Hokage-sama, uhm, would you like me to ask someone to bring you some tea?" Although it was common knowledge that he is very unlikely to ask for anything early in the morning, Kakashi's eyes were still glued to the papers scattered around his desk; clearly he's left unbothered despite the advisor's odd inquiries. "Please, drop the lord," he answers mechanically. With a gaze still lowered and undefiantly busy, his freehand traveled under his hat and reached for his hair, scratching and playing around with its threads-- quite a habit he formed in time. "What's for today again?" Perhaps, the sleep-deprived Rokudaime found freedom from the shackling, everyday thoughts of Sakura by completely drowning himself at work. Shikamaru sighs. What a drag it has been these past few weeks. It's like the man in front of him had his senses muffled over a thousand folds. The advisor clears his throat, hesitant and weary. "Kakashi-san.." he reports, "It's the weekend." "What?" Kakashi lifts his gaze and saw his subordinate in casual clothes, cradling a couple of scrolls in his arms. "Fuck," he curses upon such embarrassing realization. "Is it really?" Shikamaru nods, holding his amusement. "Kakashi-san, you seem to be out of your head these past few weeks," the advisor confessed. "What? No, no, I'm fine. I just--" "Going to work on a weekend doesn't really suit that description." Shikamaru cuts his statement while raising an eyebrow. "This week, you didn't leave the office even for lunch break." "I wasn't hungry." Hearing the Hokage’s lame excuses made Shikamaru suppress the laughter he’d been trying to hold for a while. "It seems to me that you haven't slept a single wink. Let me clear your schedule for tomorrow so you can catch up with rest," he suggests politely. Rest? He doesn’t have time to rest, Kakashi thought. He can’t rest. The moment he stays still, his mind is instantly filled with thoughts of Sakura. He cannot afford being pre-occupied day-in, day-out without eventually going insane. "Wait, no, we can't do that," he firmly protests. Deep inside he really wanted that day off. A whole damn day of sleep and endless naps. He craves for long, proper rest of course, but he knows well that staying at home reading Icha Icha won't stray him off of those thoughts either way. In fact, his love for sleep regressed because of a recurring dream that he always tried to stay away from. "There's a lot more to do, isn't there?" After mentally remembering their current tasks on hand, Shikamaru replies confidently, "You're lucky there are no pressing matters for you to attend to. The Winter Festival has been a success, and the Cherry Blossoms Festival is still a month from today. So I'm pretty sure you can have your leave." Cherry.. blossoms.. what now? It took him only two words to trigger a flustered face. Kakashi then instinctively grabs the part of his hair where the pink clumps gather the most, like a natural defensive measure. { "They remind me of cherry blossoms." }

Suddenly, he remembers everything the old woman said. Destiny, soulmates, and manifestations. He sees Sakura's grieving face as she weeps for the love of her life, who endlessly rejects her purest intentions. Noticing the Rokudaime's burning red face, Shikamaru mistakes it for a high fever. "Kakashi-san, are you sure you're okay?" "Y-yes," he fakes a smile to ease the budding concern of his subordinate; praying he won't make a big deal out of it. "Don't worry, I just--" "I'll contact the Leaf Hospital right away and schedule an appointment for you," Shikamaru hastily opens the door with one freehand, ready to take off. "I said I'm fine, Shikama--" Wait a minute. Hospital? "No, no, I don't think an appointment is necessary," Kakashi immediately followed up to further negate the idea. Just by thinking about it made him fist clumps of hair, almost wanting to rip it away from his head. The last thing he would want to happen now is to run across her. Heck, he won't even know what to do once he gets in her presence. { "Why are you hiding it?" }

Once again, the old lady's words rang loud in his ears. Sensing the Rokudaime's disapproval, Shikamaru remembers how much Kakashi hates staying in the hospital. Still, as his personal advisor, he's also quite aware of his royal stubbornness. He is, in fact, responsible for the Hokage's well-being no matter how much of a drag it is. Maybe, disobeying orders to prioritize Kakashi's health won't make him lose his job. So, being the genius he is, he came up with a better idea. "Sorry, I forgot you don’t like hospitals. In that case, we'll just send over Sakura-san so at least you'll feel more comfortable." "Wait, no--" "Please wait for her here,” and the door shuts close.

***

Moments later, a knock on the door made Kakashi jump out of his chair. Is she here? Screw you, Shikamaru. His legs were frozen and he feels like his heart rate is storming faster and faster. What should I do? My hair, shit, my hair. Where's my hat? Another knock came, this time, louder. Fuck! "Coming!" Kakashi stumbles as he reaches for his hat and hastily puts it on. He strongly believes that it would be easier to hide than explain. Finally, he swings the door open and in his surprise, he was greeted by a pair of huge, round busts tucked inside a green robe. "Tsunade-sama!" "Ohh, Kakashi. You seem happy to see me. How are things here?" He wasn't particularly sure if he was indeed happy that the visitor wasn't Sakura, but thinking about it, is Tsunade honestly any better? The Rokudaime straightens himself as the Medical Sannin sashays her way inside her former office. "Everything is fine and under control," he answers in a stiff, soldier-like tone. Perhaps, even after being a hokage himself, Kakashi never outgrew Tsunade's intimidating superiority. "At ease, Rokudaime." The blonde shinobi sits down on a nearby couch legs crossed, feeling familiar with the office she once devoted her life to. "And please, Kakashi, remove the headdress." "I-I'm sorry, what?" He knew she will make a fuss after seeing him in it. Of all the hokages, she's the only one who never believed in the hat nor the robe, and all the symbols it stand for. Fuck it, what is she doing here anyway? "I said remove the damned head dress. What are we here, in a conference?" Tsunade eases herself in a nearby couch, shuffling her body to relax in the soft, chilled leather. It must have been irritating for her to go out of her way to visit and see such a formal atmosphere. "But Tsunade-sama, it's a rule to--" He still tries to convince her. What a morning it has been for him, he thought. He's not even really sick but right now he feels like he is about to be. "Oh for heaven's sake, Kakashi, just put it down." If he puts this down, it will not only make Lady Tsunade see the growing threads of pink, but also Sakura, who might arrive in any second. "Um, were you sent here by the Hospital?" he asks, desperate to dismiss the conversation. His freehand holds the tip of the hat, putting up a show that suggests his further action. "No, but I had word from Shikamaru that you weren't yourself lately. So I thought I'd drop by." Tsunade stares at him with the eyes of a well-versed doctor. In her head, she's already diagnosing him even from a short distance. "Coming to work on a weekend? Really?" Tsunade sounds exasperated. "They say you weren't even eating. Tell me, what's been going on with you lately?" She's thoroughly convinced that something is up. Kakashi sighs audibly, like a heavy thing is constantly being forced down on his shoulders. In his mind, he believes that there is nothing wrong with coming to work on a day off. However, what scares him is that maybe, the people around him is starting to notice that his actions are getting more and more different than the usual. Hatake Kakashi, you're being paranoid. Just get over it. Okay? The winter breeze blew outside and a window creaked open, making the room feel colder than it is supposed to be. Defeated as he was, he strips himself off of his hat, and the silver and pink threads appear before her very eyes. "Oh." Tsunade was dumbfounded with what's infront of her. "That's.. that's familiar." A shade of pink she's very well fond of. Sweaty days and sleepless nights of training, for three years, she saw this same pink infront of her in this very room. The shy Rokudaime sincerely bows his head. A silent plea for utmost secrecy. Tsunade understood his expression and immediately stands up from the couch to secure the door shut. Her instinct tells her that this is the reason why Kakashi has been acting strange. Then, she walks up to him to further examine. He kept still while the medic expert run her fingers through the absurd tangle of colors. It seems that the pink clump is continuously growing, tainting most of the nearby silver threads around; making it all the more impossible to hide. One look and she knew exactly what it is. From the tales of Hiruzen that she heard decades ago, and all the extensive research she had done in the past, she is quite sure of what she's looking at. A partner destined by fate, a manifestation in its rarest form. But.. with his very own student? The universe must have blessed them with humor. Finally, she speaks, "You already know what this means, don't you?" Kakashi nods, emotionless. Tsunade expects nothing less from him. She knew that he will grow restless upon possessing such a mysterious thing. "So,” she sighed, “Sakura, huh?" *** A slight knock on the door startled them both, and Tsunade immediately shuffles away from Kakashi's desk to meet the person waiting outside. The Rokudaime then successfully wore his hat back, just before the door completely slides open. "Kakashi-sensei! Sorry, it took me a while." The young lady with the pink hair emerges from the doorway, red-nosed, and wrapped in the thickest jacket she probably owns. She greets her patient with a big, excited smile, who, in return, immediately glanced away from her sight. It wasn't long enough until Sakura notices another familiar presence in the room. "Oh, shishou? You're here too?" She holds a tray of prepared organic medicines and a pot of herbal tea. Tsunade motions her inside, investigating her student's hair as she enters. The oblivious young lady puts down the tray and automatically pours tea for the two hokages. Fortunately, she was not able to read anything from the previous thick atmosphere she just barged in. Kakashi, in his hat, lowered his head to hide his flushed face. What the fuck is wrong with you, Hatake?! He can feel his cheeks burning as she grows near. That’s your student! "Sensei," she lightheartedly scolds, her palms clamped on her waist, "I was asked to check you up.. on a weekend." She then proceeds to chuckle. "What's wrong? It's not very likely of you to catch a flu." Sakura attempts to peek under Kakashi's headdress, casually trying to meet his evasive face. "The last time I saw you, you were sleeping in a ramen shop," she further tease him, while the back of her hand snakes on the crook of his neck to confirm his temperature. Under his hat, his vision is somewhat limited. Kakashi took whatever he can get a sight on-- Sakura's winter clothes, from the torso down to her snow-dusted shoes. No matter how hard he tries, he can't manage to look straight to her. He wasn't prepared to meet her emerald eyes, not yet, not with these feelings. Tsunade carefully watches them from a distance. As she is well reminded of Kakashi's situation, her squinting eyes kept their focus on Sakura's ponytail. Just an innocent ball of pink hair neatly tied behind her head, but as her apprentice moves, she learned that streaks of black threads seem to appear hiding inside, and the light reflecting on each strand reveals a slightly bluish undertone. Kakashi kept silent while Sakura is rummaging through her medical equipment. "Sensei," she warns, "your temperature is high. Are you feeling lightheaded?" The pink medic continues to diagnose her patient, asking questions but failing to receive a single bit of response. In his head, Kakashi knows this is not how regular nurses treat their patients. Sakura's actions are more gentle, more concerned, an extra dose of thoughtfulness from her approach is very apparent and his heart is seriously not handling this well. Their teacher-student relationship made her grew really comfortable around him. Years-worth of missions helped her learn exactly how to treat her sensei, and make him feel better. Hold it together, Hatake, this should be over soon. "Sakura," he clears his throat, "it's fine, this is nothing." "Sensei, I know you're strong, but please don't neglect your well-being," she lectures. Her palm carries a medicine pill she prepared that is made to reduce high fever. "Here, drink this," handing them over successfully, she then placed a glass of water on his desk, and like a child he complied. "Surely I wasn't summoned here just to treat a petty fever," Sakura steps closer to him, invading the smallest personal space he needed in order to breathe properly.

What is she doing?

"I've been told you weren't yourself lately, Kakashi-sensei." Few more steps and their knees will touch. "Is something bothering you?" Sakura crouched slightly, bending her knees forward and resting her arms on it to form her balance.

Too.. near..

"Let me check if your pupils are dilated." She suddenly pokes her head under Kakashi's hat, confidently easing her way in, until their faces meet closely against each other. "If you're feeling something, sensei, now is the time to tell me." His eyes widened. A pair of emerald eyes emerged staring directly at him, gleaming like jewels infront of his face. God, she's beautiful. Struck in awe, Kakashi's lips parted to a gasp when he felt his hat suddenly moved from his head. Before he knows it, Sakura's freehand is holding its side, ready to strip it off of him. Shit! Kakashi froze and everything went slow motion. He knows that the slightest movement he'll make might tip the hat away, and could expose everything in plain sight. He can feel her slowly tugging, inching the hat higher over his head. Unnecessary actions might even rub her the wrong way. He can't think straight, not with their faces like this. "Sakura, that's enough," a voice suddenly roared, echoing against the walls. From another corner of the room, Tsunade orders her to a halt. Sakura's movements stopped mid-way, and slowly, she distanced herself away from Kakashi’s desk as she straightens her posture. "What's the matter, shishou? Have I done something wrong? Isn't it protocol to check a patient's--" "That's enough," she interrupts her apprentices' explanation, "I'll take this from here." The blonde medic nin glances to Kakashi, who's secretly out of breath. You owe me one, Rokudaime. "But.. shishou.." Sakura insists. She's confused with what she might have done wrong. Never, not even once, had she skipped steps nor disobeyed medical protocols during check-ups. It boggles her mind to be ordered to stop halfway. "It's uhm.. a hokage thing," Tsunade instantly made-up something just to cover things up. "You know.. stress, pressure, all that village management problems getting into our veins. It comes and goes. He'll be fine." Sakura nods to her master, trusting her diagnosis word per word. She glances back to Kakashi with a concerned face, and the warmth that stayed on the back of her hand bothers her. His temperature seems to be on the brink of convulsion. His head is still covered with the head dress, gazing low and breathing heavily. Is he really fine?

"Thank you, Sakura," Kakashi murmurs in a raspy, breathless voice. Tsunade reminded her to leave a few medicines before heading out. A pair of pink eyebrows stitched together while she pack her things away. The room fell in total silence, with only Sakura's footsteps being heard as she slowly strides towards the door. *** Right after she left, the two hokages exhaled in relief. Tsunade flopped back to the couch, and Kakashi is finally able to relax his tensed body. That was really fucking close, he thought. "Rokudaime, your plans?" Cutting straight to the chase, Tsunade starts her interrogation. She knows that they have to come up with a good solution before everything goes beyond their control. "There's only one way to get rid of this, but the price is far too high," he answers and she agrees sympathetically, knowing well enough what he was referring to-- another innocent life, yet again to be sacrificed.

“You can’t keep this forever, Kakashi,” the blonde medic warns.

Grey clouds gather outside creeping in over the Leaf. The sunlight went dimmer as the wind started to howl. A clear signal that a snowstorm is brewing.

“We will dispatch a small ANBU squad to conduct a search mission,” she further suggests, biting her tongue with the bad taste her words had left in her mouth. “They take pride in handling confidential matters. You already know how this works.”

Kakashi remained silent, his mind feels like being jack-hammered by thousands of possibilities; a hundred feasible solutions, all going down to that one dark path.

“I can’t,” he whispers inaudibly.

“We don’t know if there were still some of them out there, but we need to try,” Tsunade can almost taste the blood in her words. She can’t believe her advice either, but it is regrettably the only way.

In her defense, Kakashi is not just a guy who can be left alone walking around with such apparent manifestation. It’s not just an open attack to him, but also to his reputation. He is the Hokage, and he is in love with his former student? Not a good sight. What would the villagers think about him once they learned about this? Ultimately, what would his own students feel?

“Tsunade-sama.. I can’t.. it’s impossible,” he answers in a shaky, weak voice. He can feel his temperature constantly shooting up, and the walls are starting to spin around him. Lightheaded and nauseous, he stops a vomit pushing through his throat.

“I really can’t.. I’m sorry..”

“Kakashi, you are the Hokage!” Tsunade’s loud, roaring voice broke. She never wanted to force him down that road but the situation falls hopeless.

Something needs to be done, or else, there will be consequences.

“I’ll step down and exile myself,” he blurted. This is the most logical solution he came up with from all the previous nights of contemplation. His body feels wobbly and a sharp headache darted across his forehead, crawling upto the back of his neck.

“That’s bullshit. Naruto is not yet ready-- you know that,” she sounds exasperated, “And what, exile? What you’re saying is counterproductive--”

“It’s still better than killing someone,” he retaliates, cutting the blonde medic mid-sentence.

Both of them fell silent.

Kakashi is starting to lose consciousness but he tries to fight back. His arms and legs felt extremely heavy, like each nerve is being paralyzed by the second. He struggles to focus on their conversation, and any moment he might black out.

What is happening to me?

After quite the uncomfortable silence, Tsunade speaks again, her voice is calm but heavy. An emotional appeal that she uprooted from the deepest corners of her own heart.

“Could you.. atleast.. consider Sakura?”

The situation is infact a two-way street. If he eventually came out to the public like this, it won’t be just him who will earn hate, but Sakura as well. She will be forever entwined with the floating gossips and nasty rumors. She will become the talk of the town, a household name-- the girl who made the Rokudaime step down from his post. Tsunade knows at this point that she’s being completely selfish, but Kakashi’s decision could directly ruin her beloved apprentice.. forever.

“She is your student,” Tsunade added, “and mine, too.”

I know that.. fuck. I know that! Screaming in his head, he pushed himself to the desk and buried his face on crossed arms. The stress in the air is palpable, and he feels like running out of breath.

In his head, he knows he can’t do it. He just can’t. It’s impossible for his conscience to do such a thing. He already did a lot of mistakes in the past! A lot of people already sacrificed their lives for his sake. He cannot let the old lady die because of this, and if he does, how different is he then, to the feudal lords who murdered her clan? To the people who used their wealth and power to take innocent lives for their own selfish reasons?

{ "Now then, what will you do?" }

Please.. I can’t do it. Obaa-chan..!

Helpless as he is, he starts sobbing on his desk. Tsunade watches him, unable to do anything in the midst of his misery. It must have been tormenting for him, she thought, wanting to save a life over his.

At this point, Kakashi’s sliding into unconsciousness. His senses are dimming more and more. All the pain and agony in his chest are spilling out, and if there’s anything - just one thing - that he wanted right now.. it’s Sakura. Her eyes, her face, her gentleness. He craves it, he wanted her to take away all this suffering.

He needs her by his side, praying for a world where he can shower her with all his undying admiration, to give her the affection she deserves.

Tsunade saw with her very eyes the physical toll it took on him. He’s trembling on his desk, fists curling up in his hair, and she can feel the hot aura radiating from him even from a short distance. She knows this is not the best time to speak further more of what she learned earlier, but she had to do it. He needs to deal with this one way or another.

“Kakashi,” the former hokage calls, grabbing back his attention. "I have to tell you something,” she proceeds with a confession looming in her mouth.

He lifts his head to meet her gaze and then she continued, "I noticed something earlier in Sakura's hair bun."

Kakashi’s mind spins, his temperature already exceeded convulsion. "What about it?" he answers. Hers got revealed as well? "You understand that these manifestations go by pairs, right?" Kakashi nods in delirium, pushing himself to continue the conversation despite being in the brink of unconsciousness. "What did you see?" he asks. Silver threads? Like mine? Does this mean that I.. we..? Tsunade proceeded cautiously, carefully mouthing her next words, and Kakashi did his best to focus. In his head, this must be it. Most awaited answers come to flash before his eyes. Sleepless nights, and recurring nightmares. Long days of drowning in endless paperwork. Streaks of pink and silver tangled in a fucked-up mess. Thoughts of her gentle, loving face. Do I love her? This is it, this is what his mind needed. Should I be with her? This is where it all ends. Answers. I need answers. "Sakura's hair.." she starts. Please just tell me.. "Appears just like.." Are we really.. "Sa-" Destined.. "Su-" For.. "Ke." Each other..? - Hug me. :(

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#kakasaku #kakashi #sakura #soulmate #soulmateau #fanfiction #tsunade

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