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mandoalorian · 3 years

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I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Five: War

Author's note: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: just a smidge of angst, talking about feelings and a slightly steamy moment to look forward too.

Word count: 5,200>

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Five - Next

When you returned back to Max’s home, the sky was pitch black. Max fumbled opening the front door, grunting in frustration when he couldn’t get the key in the hole because it was so dark. When the door finally swung open, he sauntered inside without saying a single word. You hovered behind him, following him around his home like a lost puppy. He strolled into the living room, walked over to the mini bar, and poured himself out a glass of honeyed whiskey. He contemplated taking the whole bottle upstairs to his office and using the alcohol to drown his sorrows away. The silence made him forget he had a guest. “Can I get you a drink?” he muttered, not even looking at you. His thumb grazed the expensive liquor label.

“I’m okay,” you denied quietly. Maxwell didn’t say a word, but he took a swing out the small crystalled tumbler. His eyes were still glossy from his tears and his blonde wavy hair poking up in random places. He was practically unrecognisable from the television infomercials, although you deemed it inappropriate to bring up his appearance right now. To you, he was still so handsome. You waited for him to say something, but a few minutes had passed and not a single word had escaped his soft lips. “Max, I think we need to talk.”

You had a lot of questions, and he had a lot to ask you. Maxwell poured out another glass of whiskey before turning around and leaning against the bar. “Yeah, I agree. Why did you read the letter?” He asked first through a shaky exhale. Clearly it had been preying on his mind. Inside that letter was information he wanted nobody to see. He didn’t even want to see it himself. But you… he actually cared about what you thought of him. He feared your judgement more than anything else.

“You’d really hurt yourself and I could see you were very angry. When I saw the letter crumpled up on the floor, I thought it might have something to do with it and I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” You explained your genuine concern, even noticing the way Maxwell’s face softened at your confession. Despite the fact you had invaded his privacy, he just couldn’t bring himself to stay mad at you. “I knew I was looking for a man named Lorenzano. If the letter hadn’t told me you were Lorenzano then I would never have gone to Thomas Family Lawyer’s.”

“I find it difficult to believe that you were worried about me,” Maxwell scoffed incredulously, rolling his eyes and taking yet another swing of his drink. The warmth your words had brought him were short lived and he was immediately engulfed in a cold, unwelcome chill.

“I was,” you reiterated. “I care about you a lot. You- you’re my friend. You gave me a home and you believed me when I told you about Themyscira and the God’s. Max… can I ask… why did you believe me?”

Maxwell hesitated for a few seconds, anxiously picking at his already short fingernails. He could lie. He could tell you that he only believed you when you demonstrated the lasso of Hestia on him, and that would be enough. But there was no time to be deceitful, not anymore. You’d been honest with him from the very beginning, and he owed his honesty to you too. For the sake of Alistair, he needed to be truthful. For the very first time, Maxwell was going to open up about what happened on the island when he made a broadcast to the entire world.

“Part of me already believed you when I saw you in the lobby of Black Gold for the first time. You were asleep on the sofa, covered in mud, in that crazy Amazonian costume thing…” he gestured to your tunic and skirt which was still discarded on the floor from when you had undressed earlier. He chuckled lightly at the memory of you. You were so beautiful and peaceful. He thought that when you awoke, it would be revealed to him that you were there to hurt him - just like everyone else in the world. “There was just something about you. When I saw you for the first time I just felt… I just felt like…” Max was struggling to get his words out. He couldn’t describe the feeling. For the first time, the well articulated and extroverted businessman was at a loss for words. All he knew was that every second he spent with you, this strange feeling grew stronger and stronger. “I just knew I could trust you,” he shrugged helplessly. That part was true at least. “It sounds dumb, I know. You’re a stranger. But I’m not a very trusting man in the first place, so feeling this was kind of a big deal. And then you mentioned Diana,” Bewilderment crossed your face as you wondered what exactly Diana had to do with any of this. “I knew a woman called Diana Prince. Worked at the Smithsonian museum,” Maxwell took a deep breath before saying your name. He took both of your hands and sat you down on the sofa. “I need to confess something.”

“What is it?” you asked with concern. You brushed your fingers over his knuckles and he relished the way your simple touches erupted a frenzy of butterflies in his stomach.

“I did a bad thing,” Maxwell told you, fear in his eyes. “And I’m still confused and… afraid. Look, I actually care about what you think of me so please-”

You placed a chaste kiss over Maxwell’s knuckles and Max swore his heart stopped beating. Your lips felt just as soft as they looked… just as soft as he’d imagined earlier in the shower. You didn’t know why you kissed his hands… you just felt like it. And it felt good. And you hoped that maybe one day you could do it again. Your eyes flicked up to meet his own. “Everyone makes mistakes sometimes. I’m here to help you Max. I won’t judge you.” you promised.

“Okay,” he said with a deep sigh. “My company… I’ve worked my whole life building up Black Gold Cooperative. I really just wanted to do something great. Growing up, I never really had an idol or someone to look up to. And when Alistair was born, I wanted to give him the world. Anything he wanted. Because he was my son and most of all I just wanted him to be proud of his father. I was led along the wrong path by a few businessmen who were trying to sell off their investments in oilfields for cheap. So I bought them. Turns out, the oilfields were completely dried out and they weren’t going to earn any money whatsoever. I looked at the data and nothing suggested that was going to change but I couldn’t bear to give up. I didn’t want to look like a failure in front of Alistair… in front of my wife,” he croaked out, rubbing his temples as the stress consumed him. “So, I clung on to hope. And I never let go even when I probably should have. I led the world on with my infomercials, telling people that if they invested in us they’d own a part of the most lucrative oil industry in the world. And as share prices rocketed up, they’d eventually earn more than what they put in. That was the plan from day one. But the cold war meant that-”

“-Max,” you cut him off with a gentle whisper. “You’re putting yourself down for having hope. You shouldn’t- you shouldn’t do that. Having hope is the most important thing in the world.”

“I was deceitful,” Maxwell grumbled, shaking off your comment. “I found this stone that supposedly possessed magical powers. I’m a realist, I couldn’t believe it but I had to see for myself. It dated all the way back to ancient Rome… was a beautiful citrine. After a heist in the mall it was stolen and… let's just say I got my hands on the stone by means I’m not at all proud of. The stone possessed wish granting powers and I-”

Maxwell was rambling but at this point, he didn’t need to give you any more information. You already knew. Everything was making sense. From your dreams and your visions and now this.

“No.” was the only word you managed to breathe out. You shook your head profusely as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. It couldn’t be. You remembered your mother telling you that one of the stones was magically destroyed and no one knew how or why. But if Maxwell had wished to become the stone... “No no no… you didn’t, did you?”

Maxwell swallowed as he immediately sensed your disappointment in him. He nodded in silence, unable to say any more words. He felt nauseated. It was already so difficult to live with - the fact he had spiralled into mania so fast. At his core, he was a lonely man who had nobody to guide him. He thought he was in control the entire time but the truth is, he had lost control.

“Romulus possessed you,” you exhaled shakily, wiping your eyes. You let go off his hands and stood up, brushing yourself down. You nervously began to pace up and down the area of the living room. Maxwell closed his eyes, unable to let himself even look at you. He figured you were so disgusted in what he had done, you couldn’t even touch him anymore.

“Who?” Max questioned you eventually. He wanted the answers too.

“The God of Lies, Max!” you snapped back, not even realising how you’d raised your own voice but you were so stressed and paranoid. “Oh goodness… what if he’s still in you. What if-”

“I renounced my wish.” Maxwell informed you with not an ounce of emotion in his voice. He felt empty. Your head snapped to face him once more and your face softened at his revelation. You wanted to hold Max, cradle him in your arms and promise him that everything would be okay. That you’d be able to figure all this out together. But there was still so much you needed to know.

“Why?” you gasped in defeat, letting your shoulders slump.

“Diana.” Maxwell shrugged weakly, fumbling with the sleeves of his sweater.

“No,” you shook your head. “Why did you wish in the first place?”

“I was so afraid of Alistair thinking I’m a loser. Sometimes it’s so easy to believe the whole world is against me. I just wanted him to love me the way I love him.”

“Alistair has always loved you, Maxwell.” you told the teary eyed man, grabbing his arm and squeezing it. Max’s breathing hitched under your touch and he spent a few moments contemplating your words. No person had ever shown him such unconditional kindness. People were either intimidated by him, or enemies with him. No one had ever even wanted to be his friend. Even his relationship with Julianna was a whirlwind fueled on lust and her desire for his money. That’s why as soon as the oil fields dried up, the marriage broke down, and she’d gone on to find someone else with money - Theodore.

“Julianna messed with me, a lot. Told me that Alistair cared more for Ted than me, that I was nothing but a low-life. Since I found out Julianna was pregnant I was filled with this fear. I wasn’t scared of becoming a father, I was scared of becoming my father,” Maxwell choked out, making a fist as anger consumed him. He tried not to hate, he really did, but he could never ever forgive his father’s actions. You watched as his lips trembled and he looked down at his feet. “The world almost collapsed and it was all my fault,” he shuffled his feet around uncomfortably. “And I’m filled with this gut wrenching guilt I just can’t escape…” He looked up at you and wiped his eyes furiously. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“No,” you said, moving his hand away from his face and wiping his tears away with your own fingers. “You are a beautiful man,” you whispered, cupping Maxwell’s face and stroking the height of his cheekbones. You saw him flush a gentle pink colour. “And Alistair is so lucky to have a father who would do all of this… just for him. You are loved. You are loved way more than you know.” you assured, and Maxwell found himself subconsciously leaning into your touch. He was so pretty you could just kiss him again. Maybe this time on the lips.

“How- how can you not hate me?” he choked out, taking you out of your thoughts about kissing him. “Even I hate me. I’ve been thinking, maybe I’m not good enough to be a father.”

“I know how it feels,” you admitted hesitantly, biting your lip. You’d never spoken about this to anyone before. “My father is Zeus, king of all Gods. My mother is Hestia, the Goddess of Truth. I know how it feels to be put on a pedestal. To be compared to others and I know how it feels to not feel good enough. Not important. To have no purpose…” you trailed off. “I’ve spent my life searching for some significance. Zeus had many children, most of which were never able to satisfy their duty as a God or Goddess. But when I started to have these dreams… when I heard your voice I knew in my heart that you… you are my purpose.” you took a deep breath and smiled. “But Max… the dreamstone…”

“What is it?” Max urged you, his dark eyes flicking to yours. “If you can help me with Alistair, let me help you with this. Whatever you need, I can help you.”

“I- I don’t know if you can.” you confessed with a sigh.

“What is it?” Max repeated, staring into your eyes.

“My mother told me the story of two brothers, Romulus and Dolos, both the God of Lies. They were evil… destructive. They wanted to watch society collapse and build a new world. A world they could rule together,” you explained and Maxwell winced. Maybe you were right. Romulus had possessed him… because all of this was sounding far too familiar to him. “When the brothers left Olympus, Zeus gifted them with two citrine stones. The brother’s practiced their wish-granting powers on the stones. Romulus created Rome and Dolos created Athens. And now, only one stone remains.”

“Dolos’ stone remains,” Maxwell said his thoughts out loud and you nodded in affirmation. “Because it was Romulus’ stone which possessed me. So how do we destroy Dolos’ stone?”

“My mother… my mother told me only one thing can destroy the stone.” you whispered. Maxwell looked at you with an urge for you to continue. “Love.” you revealed.

There was a deafening silence that filled the room. “I-I don’t understand,” Maxwell swallowed. “It was the truth that pushed me to renounce my wish. Truth is the opposite of lies… your mother is the Goddess of Truth so maybe-”

“She told me love would destroy the stone,” you repeated, putting your foot down. “There’s no question about it. She’s my mother and I trust her.”

“Okay okay,” Maxwell soothed you. “I trust her too. I just don’t understand how-”

“Me neither,” you exhaled, cutting him off. “But we’ll figure it out, right?”

“Right.” Max confirmed. “Are- are you tired?”

“A little.” you admitted.

“There’s five empty bedrooms upstairs. Take your pick. Make yourself at home.” Maxwell smiled wearily and you nodded your head in appreciation. He was so friendly with you. So generous.

“Thank you Max,” you whispered. “You know. I think you’re a good person.”

Maxwell swallowed. You were so softly spoken and you looked so gorgeous under the dim amber lights. If you were any other woman in any other circumstance, he’d press you against the wall and promise you a night you’d never forget. But he couldn’t do this to you. You were so innocent- and he could risk hurting such a delicate soul. “I’m going to tidy up down here first but uh- I’ll come say goodnight in a few minutes.”

You left the room and Maxwell stood alone for a few moments. As he tried to tidy up the mini bar, every single one of his thoughts were consumed by your beauty, your kindness… just you. And that’s when it hit him. Had he fallen in love with a goddess?

There was so much he didn't know about you— but if he could, he'd spend every waking moment with you, asking you questions about Themyscira and your family. He wanted to know what it was like over there, and if he could visit. He wanted to meet Hestia. He couldn't help but smile to himself. You were literally the daughter of Zeus— and you were in his home. If you had came into his life a week ago, he would've idolized you for your power, but now it was different. He genuinely liked you and wanted to be around you. It was crazy.

You walked down the long, wide corridor, not really caring too much about which bedroom you select. You had more important things on your mind— such as how you were going to find the dreamstone, and how you were going to destroy it. Maybe it didn't make sense right now, but you could only hope that the pieces of the puzzle would begin to fall into place sooner rather than later. The bedroom you had settled in was large, with an en-suite bathroom and a walk in closet. It was magnificent, but then again, it seemed as though every room in Maxwell Lord's home struck you with awe. The bed was enormous too, much bigger than the single one you had back on Themyscira. You wondered to yourself what the point was in having such an extensive sized bed, but you struck it down to comfort over anything else. And it certainly was comfortable. You kicked off your gladiator sandals and sat on the white sheets, sighing as the soft material silked around your bare legs. It was wonderful.

Taking the photograph from earlier out of your shirt pocket, you held it delicately between your fingers. Maxwell Lord, with dark brown hair and a smile that could break hearts, holding little baby Alistair. Every time you looked at the photo your heart felt like it was melting, but in the best way possible. You could practically feel the love radiating from the father and son.

You placed the photograph carefully on the nightstand and unbuttoned the pinstripe shirt that Max had loaned you. Folding it up, you placed it in his closet amongst his other clothes, deciding that's where it belonged. You climbed under the sheets, tangling your naked body amongst the blankets. It felt amazing. Your surroundings might have been unfamiliar, but you had never felt more at home.

Just then, the main light switched on, illuminating the whole bedroom. Max gasped when he saw you lying in his bed. "Oh- oh shit, hey!" he exclaimed awkwardly, his eyebrows raising. His expression was almost animatronic as he saw your shoulders and the top of your bare chest peek out from underneath the duvet. "So, you found a bedroom! Uh- that's good."

"Is everything okay?" you asked, sitting upwards and propping yourself against a pillow. "Is it because I'm naked?"

"No- I mean yes! I mean no! Everything is fine. And, I know you said you were used to sleeping naked before so, it's okay. I promise. I just- you see- this is actually my bedroom. And that's my bed. So…"

"Oh." you nodded slowly, feeling slightly embarrassed. It usually took a lot for Max Lord to get flustered the way he was, and that scared him.

"No! I mean, there's no way you could have known. It's fine. You can sleep here tonight. I'll take one of the other rooms." Maxwell smiled, reaching over to the light switch to turn it off again. "Good night."

"Max wait-" you called before he could leave. He looked at you but said nothing. "Do you think that you could stay with me tonight?" you asked hesitantly, shuffling around the blankets. "It's just… when I'm with you, I feel… safe."

Maxwell struggled to find words, so instead, he just nodded, and sat next to you on the edge of the bed. "When I'm with you I feel safe too," he confessed with a gulp and you smiled. "Although that's probably because you're some superhuman goddess. I suppose I also feel quite intimidated by you." he shrugged, a nervous blush flushing his cheeks.

Your gaze snapped to face him and you tilted your head in bewilderment. "Intimidated? You are intimidated by me?" you asked. "Why would you- why-? I don't understand. I mean, look at me." you scoffed incredulously, gesturing down to your body that was hidden by the thin white material of Maxwell's duvet.

"I am." he exhaled, his eyes not leaving yours once.

And there were the butterflies again. The feeling you just couldn't shake. Everyone he looked you in the eye… every time his voice got low and soft it just made you feel… you couldn't even put it into words. Maxwell rubbed his feet awkwardly along the carpet.

"You can come under the blankets with me?" you suggested after a brief silence. You pulled the duvet open and gestured for him to lay next to you.

"Oh I don't know," he shuffled around. "Here, in the world of man, people only really lay together if they're… well, together." Max explained.

"Aren't we together?" you shrugged your shoulders.

"Mm, not like that," Maxwell pursed his lips together. He wanted to lay with you— he really did, but he didn't want you to get the wrong idea. "People only lay together if they're… in love."

"Were you in love with Julianna?" you asked a little too quickly. Maxwell finally broke his gaze from you. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that." you tried to retract but Maxwell shushed you.

"No, it's okay. The truth is… I don't know. I thought I was in love with her but… I'm not sure anymore." Maxwell sighed, running a finger through his hair. He wasn't sure because now he was having feelings for you and these feelings weren't anything like he had ever felt before.

"But you shared a bed with her?" you quizzed.

"Well, yeah. We were married."

"Have you shared a bed with anyone who you weren't married to?" you beckoned further.

Maxwell paused. "Of course."

"So please," you hummed, smoothing out the bed sheets. "Lay with me."

Maxwell smiled before taking off his shoes and climbing in next to you. "Have- have you ever shared a bed with a man before?" Maxwell asked, swallowing the hard lump in his throat. Just the thought of you being with another man made his head spin.

"No," you said quietly. "There are no men on Themyscira." you reminded him.

"Oh right yeah." Maxwell nodded understandingly.

You snuggled up close to him and laid your head on his chest. "You're warm," you mumbled happily. "It's nice."

Maxwell stretched out his arm and wrapped it around you. You and him were cuddling in bed. He wanted it to mean something, he really did, but he couldn't help but feel like it was platonic on your end. You smelled so amazing. And your body fit into his like a puzzle piece that had been missing his whole life. He could stay in this moment forever. And you were also more than content. Maxwell was broad, and his arms were strong. You felt safe laying with him, you felt like he could protect you from any danger. You trusted him. And he trusted you.

"So, am I the first man you met?" Maxwell asked you, clearing his throat.

"You are," you confirmed. You pulled the photograph of Maxwell and Alistair from the nightstand and showed it to your friend. "I found this earlier today. I like it a lot."

"Oh yeah, that was the day Alistair was born," Maxwell smiled. "I was happy that day."

"You're so lucky to be a father. I've always wanted children." you confessed, biting your lip.

"Well maybe one day you can have some of your own." Maxwell murmured, smoothing out your hair.

"I doubt it. Amazons can't bear children. Although, I suppose I could."

"What makes you different from the other Amazons?" Max beckoned.

"A lot, actually. They're all warrior queens. Fighters. But Zeus blessed me with the ability to carry children if I were to become a mortal, because I'm the Goddess of Home and Hearth. I reunite families. I'm maternal at heart. That's why he granted me that blessing, I suppose." you explained, trying your hardest to recall the words your mother had spoken to you when you were just a little girl.

"Only if you become a mortal? How would you even do that?" Maxwell anxiously slid his hand into yours, and his heart filled with joy when you intertwined your fingers with his.

"If I exposed my true self in front of a large crowd of people then I could no longer be a goddess. Zeus would take away my powers and I'd never be able to return to Themyscira. I'd be normal, just like you."

He wanted to laugh. There was nothing about Max Lord that could be considered ‘normal’— but he opted to let your comment slide. He knew what you meant anyway. "Would you consider giving up your powers and becoming a mortal?"

"Maybe," you shrugged. "I would do it for love." you turned to face Maxwell, to look him in the eyes, but he was already looking at you— memorising your beautiful face. Everything about you was so perfect.

"Love." he repeated, validating to himself that he was indeed listening and not completely entranced by your beauty. His voice had dropped an octave and was no louder than a mere whisper. His eyes flicked down to your lips and he had never felt an urge so strong in his life to just kiss you. He remembered how soft your lips were earlier in the night when they'd gently brushed over his knuckles.

And now, you were looking at his lips too. They were pink and plush and— you'd never even kissed anyone before, let alone a man who was attractive as Maxwell Lord. From what you had learned about him, he was already so esteemed and had probably kissed dozens of girls in his lifetime. You on the other hand, were quite inexperienced. But that didn't mean you didn't want to learn.

You could hear his beating heart as you felt his chest rise and fall. He made sure that no piece of stray hair was in your face. He wanted to take in every detail. With a sudden air of confidence, Maxwell leaned in and nudged his nose against yours. Naturally, your eyes fluttered shut as his warm breath fanned over your skin. His hand dropped down to your waist and he gave your hip a gentle squeeze under the covers as he tilted his head and pressed his lips against yours.

It was magical. His lips moved perfectly against yours, like they were made for each other. Max closed his eyes and pressed his face further into yours, even using his tongue to teasingly lick a stripe over your lower lip. You felt your cheeks flush as an involuntary moan escaped your lips. As your mouth parted, Maxwell seized the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth… and it felt delightful. You wrapped a leg around his and tangled your fingers in his hair as he kissed you. You prayed that this moment would never end. His lips were sweet and you imagined they tasted vaguely of the honeyed whiskey he had been drinking earlier. His hand glided down to your thigh and you eventually pulled away from him with a gasp. He removed his hand from you.

"Too much?" he asked breathlessly, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your swollen lips.

You moved his hand back to its position on your thigh. "No- no," you whispered, shaking your head but unable to contain your smile. "It's just, I've never done anything like this before. I've never been kissed like this… or even touched… I've never even… you know."

"It's okay," Maxwell whispered, cupping your face. "We don't have to do anything you want to do."

"I want this." you confirmed, pulling your body on top of his and straddling him. Maxwell felt his cock twitch in his pants as you accidentally grinded over him, leaning in and reattaching your lips. The blanket was still draped over your shoulders but fuck, you were naked. You were naked and on top of him and you were kissing him. Maxwell was still practically fully clothed and he didn't want to remove the blanket from you but he did contemplate taking his own sweater off.

"You feel so good on top of me like this," he muttered against your lips. "Can I touch you?"

You hummed in response and grinded your hips over him again. "Please."

Maxwell brought his hands down to your breasts and began to fondle with them as you kissed him. You moaned and giggled as his thumb grazed over your puckered nipples, squeezing them gently now and again.

The make-out session must have lasted a good half an hour, and Maxwell swore it was the best he'd ever had. If he wasn't sure about his feelings before, this was only confirmation. He'd grown deeply in love with you.

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ranmanjuu · 3 years

Note

Hey there how are you? This literally just came to my mind how will the warlords react to an mc who sees ghosts / spirits and talks with them?

i’m doing fine, thanks for asking! honestly, this is a concept that i’m very interested in (in fact, i had an idea something along these lines, though not quite, that was one of the factors why i made this blog in the first place) cause of the three ikeseries games i know, ikesen is the one who handles death the most (at least in terms of many lives lost, with war and whatnot.)

and i wish i can expand more but also! i’m Lazy

(disclaimer that the uses of sixth senses and how spirits/spiritual “energy” works here are of my own creation, cause in all honesty i don’t know shit abt them)

—nobunaga:

the ability to see the spirits of the dead, in the modern times, was. . .interesting, to sum it up.

living with it since you were a child, you’ve a lot of experiences that range from dread and scary, to extremely fascinating. in the world of constant normality, to a fault even, it’s a sort of (sometimes morbid) curiosity to interact with those who have passed.

however,,, not many times did you tap into scenarios where you got that close to how that person died.

occasional car crashes, although the ones you were bystander to were strangers to you. those you know who did, never you got to see die in front of your eyes. and frankly, you didn’t want to see it,

however, now,,, the world seems to have different plans for you.

out of all the periods, you were flung back to a war-stricken one. even worst, being practically taken in by who’s known as the ruthless unifier of japan.

it all started from the second day, the first battle you were dragged into. while you tried to block out the death you saw around you,,, the way nobunaga slashed the enemy commander would never leave your mind.

doesn’t help that later on you already saw the fire-like spirit, one that would resemble the man standing near the burning castle. reality set in for you at that moment; you’ll be seeing a lot of these.

each battlefield you were dragged into, you could see the spirits that would wander around, in agony, anger or otherwise. either while the flames of battle were swishing, or afterwards when you patched up the injured soldiers.

and almost each time you sense that anger was the thing that tied their spirit to the physical world (from the enemies, of course), somehow, in any way, nobunaga was a part of it.

and you can see why. you’ve heard stories, from the dead and alive, of the supposed atrocities he’s committed, and if you were honest, it created much more a distance.

perhaps it was because you knew much more clearer, the wishes the passed enemy soldiers would curse him for laying upon whatever damage he had. perhaps that was what would always haunt you, how they described his actions, that made you as tense as you were each time you visited the tenshu.

yet,, you always showed a level of care for him, that was clear the first night you went up to his tenshu to thank him for saving your life.

and slowly, you begin to see the truth of his actions. maybe there was more to him, you thought.

it made you believe much more in non-violence, which was why when the lord presented you with a gun or a sword to take his or your life,

you refused both outcomes.

you wanted to live, a burning desire to survive just like everyone else. but it goes without saying that you don’t want nobunaga to die either. not only rooted in the strong feelings you’ve grown regarding violence, but also. . .

“i don’t think i could bear to see your spirit lingering. i - i just don’t want—”

you let out a shuddering breath as the weigh of the wishes, regrets, stories, anger of the dead wash over you. so many lives have been lost—you feel like you’re simply a bearer, a messenger, for those who have passed.

you can’t even begin to imagine the ghost of nobunaga, whatever weigh he held even after death, and especially if you were the one to take his life.

“. . .what do you mean by that?”

you snap back as you look up at him, and realize that you’ve never really told him of your sixth sense. with a heaving breath, you look down to the gun and katana as you begin to explain.

explaining how you’re able to see soldiers, citizens, everyone, who was caught in the crossfire. both enemies and allies. stories of those who they’d lost, or those who’d lose them. unsaid goodbyes, sworn revenge, all of which were burnt into your mind.

their families, friends, who’ve waited for them, all of those haunt your mind until you feel like you live to tell the tale of the passed. countless nights, as you wonder if you’ll ever meet any of them, and if you’ll ever tell them how they’d felt. all the unsaid words.

slowly, he begins to understand clearer. your want for peace, your absolute disdain for death. the clear suffering you heaved, to honor each spirit.

and maybe, it’d lead to a change in him.

—kenshin:

you always found something. . .interesting about kenshin. you’d learn later that he’s the god of war, the ruthless dragon of echigo that took thrill in the most dangerous battles, but. . .something more to it.

it started when you two where alone in the field, where the fireflies rose as if the stars itself descended down to your presences. such was a sight to behold, kenshin standing amidst it all, having a thousand mile stare, to something lost. no words were said, you were all too mesmerized by the sight.

until, just as the luminescent bugs seem to flicker for just a moment, you see it. someone beside him, faded and clouded, and just as you blinked with a slight gasp, it disappears.

kenshin looks at you, the slight glow shining on his face, the moonlight and fireflies clashing together, “what is it?”

you look into his eyes, solemn and stern. “nothing.” you say, and so, it passes. but it wouldn’t be the last time.

it’s never happened when others are around, you took note. the next time was the night he put you in prison, your distraught was caught off guard last minute.

you see the flickers of a figure again, and this time, it lingers longer. you can see it clearer now. a girl, at around a teenager’s age with long hair. wordlessly, she looks at you with vacant, yet sad eyes, and walks away in the direction of kenshin.

you lean forward against the bars to look more, but. . .she’s gone.

and you keep seeing her, mainly whenever you and kenshin were alone together. hell, you’ve tried to talk to her when the man went away and she lingered, but. . .not even a single word was ever uttered.

as you grew closer and closer to the bunny lord, you’d see clearer his,, overbearing nature towards you, to an extreme needless to say. and soon, you’d learn why.

you listened to the tale and story from shingen, and silently, all the things clicked. that girl,,, it must be isehime then.

returning back to kenshin’s room, once you set eyes, you immediately notice the ghostly figure sitting in the middle. you take a breath, and step in. despite it not facing you, you know it can see you.

“. . .isehime, isn’t it?” you ask, and her head turns to you. with eyes delicately shining, you’d almost see them as if they were alive.

“so you’ve heard.” she answers, a soft whisper.

your eyes land on the ground, thinking, before they rise up to meet hers again, “. . .what is it that bounds your spirit to the living world?” such was a question you’d ask before, and you figured, now that you knew the story, you’ll get an answer.

she gazes at you with deep thought, then turns her eyes to the floor, “i just want to see him move on from what happened that day.”

everything was silent apart from her soft, echo-ish voice. “i know he’d eventually move on from the crush had i lived. and i too, i no longer like him when i was alive. however,” she looks at the clan crest with the same look kenshin had on the night of the fireflies field, “it hurts to see that it haunts him to this day. it hurts—and i can do nothing but watch. he holds a weigh of trauma, and i just—”

her head turns to you, “i just want him to move on. from the pain, the past, all of it.”

and the way she looks at you,,, it’s a look you’re familiar with. as you feel your own weight sink onto your shoulders, you knew, she’s relying on you.

and so it leads us here, now, by a small isolated place in the middle of the woods. you had this night, this one night, to convince kenshin to stop his war against the oda caused by an incident inflicted on you.

in the end, you do. with a promise that you’d stay by his side no matter how dark the road becomes, along with a ripped kimono. . .you hope for a better future for him, with you accompanying him on the rough journey.

through the trees, the faint figure of isehime begins to fade, and with a soft smile on her face, a melancholic look, she whispers to the night, “thank you. i’ll leave him in your hands.”

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 4 years

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(Romanced) Companions baby-sitting Shaun for the first time.

(They didn't really have to be romanced for this one but it just seemed like a nice sentiment.)

Cait:

She really doesn’t mean anything by it, but the first time you leave her and Shaun alone she is fantastically scared. Be it because shaun is a synth or just because the weight of the responsibility suddenly sits on her shoulders. She quickly realizes that this alone time with Shaun is very valuable though. A piece of her even becomes strangely sympathetic, realizing the kid probably just wanted to have a complete family with his mommy/daddy and her. So before she even knows what’s going on, she finds herself playing in the makeshift backyard outside your house with Shaun and dog meat, finding true happiness.

Curie:

Curie is automatically elated at even the thought getting to spend some quality time with the boy. Though she was careful, she considered Shaun her son from the moment you introduced him to her. Let’s be honest, Curie is a natural at taking care of the boy. Probably the best to be honest. They have a really good time, playing an old blast radius board game you found and so on. Shaun can’t help but behave with her too, even going to bed with no fuss the second the little synth mentions bed time. Overall him and Curie go together really well, alleviating any past apprehensions you may have had about leaving him with the scientist.

Danse:

The notion of being left alone with his adopted son scared Danse more than anything. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to bond with the child, after all Danse was rather quick to consider him his own, his anxiety was more or less caused by the fear of screwing up something. Yeah, he has interacted with the squires on the airship before but none of them were his. What if he runs out of things to talk about? What if Shaun starts misbehaving? God forbid Shaun somehow got hurt, what the hell was he doing to do? Sure he knew how to dress wounds and such but admitting something like that happened under his watch? The thought made the Paladin want to tear his hair out. Much to Danse’s relief, his fears were for naught. Shaun really likes danse, asking his new father all about his power armor and his laser rifles and..well, anything the young boy could think of. This made Danse very happy. By the time you got home, Danse was in the garage with the young boy- teaching him all about how to repair lord knows what and getting Shaun to hand him tools as he demonstrated.

Deacon:

Surprising both himself and you, him and Shaun quickly become besties in their bonding time. Being left alone with the spy was actually really good for Shaun, and Deacon. Though he wouldn’t admit it, Deacon was scared to get too attached to your son, scared to accept him as his own but now? He couldn’t imagine it any other way. They played hide and seek, pulled some tasteful pranks on poor unsuspecting settlers and over all just had a really good time.

Gage:

In all honesty, Gage was scared shitless. If not for the strangeness or taking care of a child for the first time in his life, it was also the vulnerability of being left alone for the kid to judge him. Without you there as a buffer...Surely his adoptive son couldn’t think too highly of his “pa” being a raider..could he? The thought of him disapproving of gage made the old raider hurt in a way he both didn’t like nor think he was capable of hurting. So because of this, Gage is pretty grumpy at first, rather to stay at an arms distance. However it only takes an hour or so of shaun’s wide puppy eyes, much like his parent’s, for gage to fall weak. After this, good luck finding either one of them because Gage is totally taking Shaun around the park to ride some of the rides.

Hancock:

In theory, Hancock thought it would be super easy..and well, it kind of was. Though he didn’t have much experience with taking care of young kids, he was still compassionate and at the very least- entertaining. This definitely worked in Hancock’s favor the first time he babysits the newest addition to your little family. Figuring it would be a good pass time, he takes Shaun around his city, making sure to acquaint him with all the “upstanding” citizens so they all know not to fuck with the kid. His kid. Needless to say, everyone quickly loves Shaun.

Macready:

He wasn’t that perturbed, more or less just wondering how in the world he was going to manage to watch both Shaun and Duncan without them teaming up and pulling one over on him. His fears were perfectly justified though, seeing as when you came home you found both the little boys laughing as Macready frantically tried to clean up an absolutely wrecked house.

Yes, they both got into some serious trouble. Macready never wants to be left without backup ever again.

Maxson:

(Just assuming he doesn't know he's a synth/ maybe a slight canon divergence? Like maybe Shaun actually ends up being Shaun and father is someone else?? I don't know..because it wouldn't go over smoothly if shaun was a synth no matter what.)

He's pretty good at this whole babysitting thing, remembering the many people who took care of him and what their were methods with crystal clarity. Granted, his previous caretakers were all soldiers. However, even though Shaun isn't technically his blood and doesn't have his last name, he is your son and that was good enough for Arthur. Plus, he figured it would be good practice for whenever you and him managed to finally make heirs. Seeing as Maxson wanted to do his best to acclimate Shaun into the brotherhood way of life, he'd take the precious bonding opportunity quite enthusiastically. It went beyond him just wanting Shaun to know his organization better though, truthfully, Arthur wanted to impress the young boy. Even more than that, Maxson wanted to let Shaun know that no matter what, he'd be there to protect him. That all being said, Arthur is still pretty awkward, not wanting to mess it up. He really tries though, taking Shaun around the airship, familiarizing the boy with his new family, answering any questions he may have about basically anything,

What he doesn't know is Shaun is impressed with him already, not because he is the leader of some crazy metal loving army.

As soon as Shaun makes that clear though, you can expect to come home to a teary eyed Maxson hugging a confused, but happy Shaun. Later on when the child's asleep, Arthur even slips up and begins referring to him as his own son...which makes you very happy.

Nick:

Deciding it would be for the best, he takes the synth boy to the agency- getting a little help from ellie. However he takes his duty very seriously, keeping his synthetic eyes practically glued on his boy. That being said, Shaun behaves especially well for the old detective, spinning around in one of the office chairs as his adoptive dad sorts out some old case files.

Old longfellow:

He was a little apprehensive at first but he knew that the time was bound to come. Luckily he already has an entire day planned out for him and his “son”. Much to shaun’s delight, Longfellow brings him out to the water and teaches him how to fish. The two of them don’t catch anything for a while, more so just enjoying each other’s company and chatting away. However Longfellow couldn’t help but be proud when Shaun caught some fish, far too small to eat but that didn’t matter. He was still so proud. To celebrate, he even gave the young boy a beer with a wink and a “don’t tell yer mom/dad.”.

Piper:

Much like Mac, Piper had both the disadvantage and advantage of also having another child under your roof. Though Nat wasn’t her child, she always cared for her little sister like she was so Piper didn’t exactly fear having to care for a kid. Unlike Mac, the additional kid in her care wasn’t mischievous. So, as much as she hate to admit it, Nat was the one that kept Shaun in line, all while Piper tentatively kept a watchful gaze on the two.

Preston:

Thanks to occasionally taking care of exhausted settler’s children, Preston wasn’t entirely in the dark when it came to taking care of Shaun. Sure, the first time being left alone with his “son” still made him a little nervous..but he’d do anything to make the boy happy. With that being said, providing it’s a chilly night, he’ll build a fire and tell Shaun all kinds of lovely campfire stories and roast some s’mores.

X6-88:

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that him and Shaun get along swimmingly, having known each other before you even found your son. So, X6 was a natural at caring for Shaun, with or without you present. Plus Shaun knows better than to act up with him, as well as they get along, x6 has none of it. Nonetheless, they are so totally partners in crime. Much to your surprise, you’ll likely come home to find the evidence of what appears to be a massive prank war. Shaun passed out on the couch with shaving cream on his face and X6 with mysteriously fuchsia hair.

#fallout #fo4 companions #fallout companions #fallout 4 #paladin danse #curie #danse #macready #porter gage #shaun #synth shaun #elder maxson

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ahlectos · 4 years

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“ i am clawing myself into negative space, a creature of only absences. ”

cis female / she/her. ┊ if you’re looking for ALECTO CARROW, you’ll probably find HER in the RAVENCLAW dorm with the rest of the SEVENTH years. they’re the TWENTY ONE year old PUREBLOOD who looks kind of like HANDE ERÇEL. they seem POISED, SHARP, & RESOURCEFUL to me, but apparently they’re also OVER-CAUTIOUS, DESIROUS, & PROUD. maybe that’s why they remind me of jeweled daggers tucked into frothy skirts like a secret; gilt edged pages on well worn books; a cold shiver on the cusp of winter, hidden with a smile ( no one can know you feel anything ); a collection of delicate, sharp edged things; beautiful jewelry draped across your throat, as if anything could protect your weak spots.

WARNINGS: death of a family member, discussions of war, parental neglect, manipulation, alcohol mention ADDITIONAL MATERIALS: alecto’s playlist, stats page, & pinterest board

the carrow family had amycus, so it wasn’t a total let down when alecto ilse carrow was born and was born a girl. but if everyone was being honest, there wasn’t any real thrill there for her either. if they loved her, it was in a rote way and if they cared for her, it was in a rote way. their distance and cool removal from her life spoke more than anything they ever did for her.

later, there would be attempts to pit brother and sister against each other; and there was at least a passion of feelings in that bloodthirsty desire. alecto imagined that was the closest thing to love she ever got from them.

the carrows, historically, were not the most refined when it came to the most sacred. sure, they were one of the best families — but their machinations never seemed to be the sort that won the hearts of a people; their plans, never the ones put to action. they had wealth and connections enough, bloodlines going as far back as any of the other twenty-eight’s; but they were not half so perfect.

alecto didn’t like people not expecting perfection from her. her parents saw so little when they looked at her, and it grated to see the same lack from the people they were surrounded by. so she made changing that expectation her mission at, in all honesty, too young an age.

they thought carrows weren’t the ones to beat. fine. wasn’t she one to beat all on her own? wasn’t she enough to change the tides of her family’s reputation?

she’d decided this at a precocious eight years old after a particularly disastrous dinner party. her parents, they were darkly amused; let her try, for soon she’d realize that she was a girl, and would always, always fall short of expectations. at the time, this mission of hers started with presenting a flawless front to anyone looking at her expecting another carrow wildcard. she’d always been precocious; she knew what game they were all playing and just how to play it.

( didn’t they all know how easy it was? to become like them? )

ii.

around the same time she reached this decision for the path she’d tackle the rest of her life, her aunt dulcinea died and crushed alecto’s heart.

aunt dulcinea and uncle anatole were distant carrow relatives and in alecto’s weaker, punishable, childish moments — she’d wished they’d been her parents. she wished it stupidly, in place of wishing for her own parents to love her.

at the reading of her aunt’s will, alecto received dulcinea’s wand ( 12 ¼", griffin feather and aspen, quite flexible and carved with a loving hand ). and though she wasn’t of an age yet to use magic, her uncle practiced dueling with her using sticks found in the gardens on the carrow estate. even before she could legally utter a single spell, alecto was a skilled duelist. she tucked this into her back pocket like a secret; would let out shining peals of false, childish laughter if ever anyone asked about those dueling lessons. her, dueling? no, no, no. she was itty, bitty, and ladylike, faint at the very idea of fighting. her uncle anatole had simply been indulging her silly games of make - believe.

maybe all he thought was that a husband in their circles would like a wife with some use in the war effort. but alecto liked to imagine he thought she was worth teaching as just alecto, not someone’s future betrothed.

iii.

she made friends greedily as a child; ostensibly so she could have the connections, the network, that was so vital to the lives of adults in pureblood society. but the small truth was that alecto just fed on human connection. she loathed how much liked people to like her and resented that she needed people at all. but it was true, and it could be useful.

she tried, at times, unthinkingly, to imitate the distance her parents had with her. she loved talking and hated talking all at once, but she did pride herself on being able to fill hours of conversation with no substance at all. and it better cemented the idea that she didn’t actually desire the friends or acquaintances she had --- if every interaction was hollow, what could prove she thrived on them? how would anyone know much she relished the meandering words?

she could be very cruel to those around her — not necessarily on purpose, but also not not on purpose. there was a threshold, where acquaintances shifted into someone alecto would trust with her life. at that threshold she tended to turn mean, to turn people away, and it was a horrible habit and one she wouldn’t break.

but all the feigned distance in the world couldn’t keep her from finding actual friends, and she would kill for those she cared for. reckless all or nothing thinking like that was just the carrow way. true,

fierce friendship was an earned thing, but a warm-looking smile from dear alecto cost her nothing at all.

iv.

she was sorted into ravenclaw; perhaps it would have disappointed her family, if they’d had expectations high enough to disappoint in the first place. when alecto was fourteen, and wrote home with news of the sorting, she knew she’d lost any chance of being the favorite --- slim as the chance had ever been. oh, her parents had indulged her goal of making a name for herself. she was their daughter; clever enough, pretty enough, to indulge. but they’d never seen that indulgence yielding anything, and her sorting only confirmed it for them.

( she suspected they wrote to her brother more, while at school. no, of course she never asked him. she was a ravenclaw, smart enough to know that some doors need not be opened. )

imagine: a little carrow in ravenclaw tower, all alone amongst peers of all blood statuses and backgrounds. she thrived there, much though she hid that fact from her parents. they certainly never imagined her thriving. she had her aunt’s wand and her uncle’s scattered owls, friends she made cautiously and recklessly in equal measure, a feeling of total abandonment gifted to her by her parents’ abandonment. it was heady, and dangerous.

she kissed people her parents would have been scandalized to know she knew at all, linked arms with girls from families her father had long disparaged over breakfast. joined the quidditch team and shared sportsman-like handshakes with any opposing player she could hunt down after matches.

her grins were sharp and wicked and her laughter soft and surprised and she knew --- she knew! --- that the home she felt in the castle could never last once outside of it.

it was a home, and that word just didn’t mean anything for girls like her.

alecto was just a girl, darling little thing. the carrow daughter with a whip-sharp mind — that she made sure to only show in carefully curated fields, that was a problem all the same. she could picture her mother’s disapproving look as she caught alecto reading one evening, told her that the mind on her made it hard for the family to imagine setting up an enviable match. she would never find it easy, being a trophy hanging off someone’s arm. she tried. alecto always tried.

her parents may not have cared for her any more than they had to, but they knew her better than she ever thought they did. she did not bend or bow to anyone for all that she acted like she could, and that would make her life harder than her parents thought it had to be.

the lives of pureblood daughters could be easier than breathing, in the new world they had hopes of cultivating. if only alecto would let things be easy.

her parents might have thought she had an allergy to the simple route. and maybe she did; maybe they were right, and she was wired all wrong. her mind was a tricky place — all those forbidden books snuck into her lap, they had an impact. perhaps on a stronger carrow they’d have been nothing when compared to the things her family had told her all her life. perhaps she was weaker than she’d ever cared to admit. but she acted like they were no stronger carrows, and pretended like the act didn’t cost a thing.

when her parents and their cohort went and joined a dark lord who whispered of war, alecto learned to pretend like lots of things cost her nothing at all. after a lifetime of such acts, she could even pretend to herself that pretending cost nothing.

at night, in ravenclaw tower, she dreamed of a world where she didn’t have to pretend.

little alecto, the sweet-talking carrow daughter, blossomed into a young woman who had high hopes of an easy life. she dreamed bigger than that; of a room of her own tucked with books and cauldrons and coin she earned of her own mind, family that consisted of no one but her brother. alecto always dreamed impossible things.

but she lived in reality. and reality had studying her heart out for a million jobs she’d never apply for. it had her learning to enjoy the refined burn of shots worth more galleons than some would ever see. she learned to love glittering adornments, and tossing her hair, and beguiling with a single flash of her pearly-white fangs like it was all she was good for. she lived as if school would never end, as if the real world wasn’t just about to knock at her door. she was good. except when she was bad. and loathe though she was to admit it, she could still find enough ancient carrow in her to be very, very bad … when she so chose.

badness could very easily be written off as youth, except by those who shared alecto’s youth with her. to them, well, it was her typical carrow tendencies coming out to play. it was her growing tired of the never-ending act she’d started years and years ago. it was her doing very reckless things, perhaps unknowingly — or perhaps awaiting the mess she’d leave in her wake. she’d have to fix the mess, of course, and in that fixing would lie the cool reminder that while she looked like any of the rest of them, she would always be a carrow. and carrows are too sharp, too much, and so alecto is, too.

( the secret was she was too much alecto to be anything, really )

vi.

she didn’t even like pureblood society that much; up close, it didn’t glitter like she’d imagined as a child, on the outside looking in.

she resented the idea that she’d have to marry some man eventually, who she likely wouldn’t care about and who likely wouldn’t appreciate her for all that she was. but if she wanted to be more than a wife or mother she knew she’d have to show her hand --- reveal that she had a mind for strategy, that she knew a thousand wicked things. sign herself away to the war for a side she didn’t believe in. it would surprise no one to learn that both action and inaction held steep consequences.

but alecto didn’t want to fight; and in the meantime, no one was asking her to, not really. she threw herself into her school work and talked about a boring future, gushed of jobs that required little wandwork and received little notice. uncle anatole gave her questioning looks when she continued to act as if battle terrified her, as if she didn’t have ambitions. but the rest of her family continued ignoring her, most of the time; neglecting to see any real usefulness. and there was safety in that --- she might yet make it to a disappointing marriage without any blood on her hands.

in a perfect world she could lay down in neutral ground and not move a muscle for either side. not have to enter some loveless future, either. but what would that make of her family loyalty? the last thing she wanted was more disappointment from her parents. more proof that she’d never been what they wanted. for all that she despised them, she couldn’t help but want her parents to love her; and deserting their side would not inspire love.

this was, of course, no perfect world. alecto was not the sort of girl who lived in happy endings. so while she didn’t want to join the war, had no desire to loan her mind to the dark lord’s cause --- she knew she would. she would have to. she was a carrow, and so of course she’d join the fight.

the plain and simple fact of the matter was that there was no possible path for her that didn’t beat her heart into bloody submission. so that life, that planned future, was better than nothing at all. right?

vii.

alecto couldn’t be paid to give two shits about blood status. she knew her family fought tooth and nail along with all their peers for the glory and triumph of blood purity — and regrettable as it was to dwell on, it was background noise she would ignore because she could afford to ignore it. just because she could care for, or befriend, a muggleborn with no internal struggle didn’t mean she’d ever actively do anything to help them. this was the life she’d chosen.

she didn’t have much exposure to people of other blood statuses as a child and that’s when she set her heart on winning at life in pureblood circles. sometimes goals like that were hard to let go of. so while her stomach curled at the lack of intelligence she saw as inherit in blood purist ideologies she could never actually … fight the fact that pureblood circles were run on purist ideologies. life was just easier if she didn’t fight it.

she’d rather break her heart and throw herself into a cause liable to kill her than become her own person separate from the life she’s wasted years building.

viii.

no one needed to know she hated this; softness was worse than wildness, in alecto’s eyes. her wildness couldn’t be helped, but she’d die before anyone saw her weak. let them see a ruthless game-player with a heart carved from crystalline ice. let them see a girl, damnably neutral while she still could be, cards always held close to the chest.

the almost-war for blood purity waged on as it always had, with new challengers rising every day; it was as unchanging and constant as the warmth of ravenclaw tower still was, in her last year in its embrace. as the consequences of adult life began to fall around her, alecto shut her eyes and plugged her ears and imagined a world where she could stay on the sidelines. she shut her eyes and plugged her ears to the whispers of how useless a dainty carrow daughter was, too.

for a little while longer she could pretend she wouldn’t prove them all wrong sooner or later; it was a kind thing to pretend.

but a kind mask was still a mask. and alecto knew masks, could pluck one from her shelves and put it on in her sleep. it was easier, after all, to not think; some part of alecto had always known this, long learned how to turn off her racing thoughts, her conscience, her heart, in order to do what needed to be done. she hated it. but she did it.

sooner or later alecto would give in --- in a way that could never be undone. or, perhaps, she’d come to hate feeling her family’s belated pride resting on her head like poisoned laurels. prove even herself wrong and desert them and their pitied crowns.

( she prays for the former and hopes for the latter, with her wicked, traitorous heart. )

#( ⊱ ━━ 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰’𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 ┊ intro. )#fallacyintro

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the-house-of-the-nine · 4 years

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In Mind of Misery: Reflections, Part 3

[Forward: Since the end of “In Depths Below” the Nine have been busy trying to reclaim Lazarius’ family fortune, rebuilding, and forging new allies. We are current in the WoW Timeline with this entry, NZoth has risen, the world is in chaos, and now, the Council of Nine are at a disadvantage. New Readers, please note each of the roleplayers as the following...

[ L.K ] - Lazarius Kashebahl, Algus Kross, Doctor Whistletorque, Marseille

[ V.D ] Verzatea Duskflame , Pame

[ S.K ] Siida-Ray Kashebahl

[ K.A ] Koltun Ancientveil

[ J ] Jursol (AND JIMBA!)

And as always, thank you so much for continued support, posting, reblogs, likes and friendly messages! Please enjoy! ]

[ V.D ] Verza fought to hide her minor spike of amusement, her eyes swiftly narrowing as she coaxes the writing utensil away. The enchanted pen lifts from her delicate palm to return to hovering its ink dipped tip above the open journal.

"A one way mirror?" She offers a simplistic explanation for the abomination growth upon his figure, her eyes narrowing in further suspicion.

"An enemy from beyond the realm of living... Do you think she can see our world from whatever planes she haunts?" With a soft shake of her head Tea wagers.

"You've read every book about these markings, yes? Maybe we could reverse the magic and manipulate the powers to see what watches," her expression fills with concern whilst a hand lowers to linger an inch above Lazariuss skin, motioning with her hand in a manner to trace the runes.

Mostly she was feeling for any kinds of energies that could link them to the identity of whatever charged and connected to the eye; Just to see if there was a presence hosted by this one way looking glass of a spell.

"So long as its active, our safety is in jeopardy. Unless one of you challenge the idea to not fear the unknown?"

[ J ] Jursol was listening as her eyes gazed again at the strange eye. Her thought were going a mile a minute over this. Why did she do this to him? Is she a true follower of the Old God? Does she want to use this man for her advantage even now? So many things to think about.

“Dis be a bad juju magic. However it’s still not clear if dis be a danger to us all, or ta him alone. Either way we must do something.” Jursol looked to the others to see what they had to say as well.

[ V.D ] Verzateas appreciative gaze would cast itself onto Jur, thankful atleast one person (so far) felt the gravity of the situation.

[ L.K ] “You my dear huntress are not wrong....everything Raelyndia did; she did to accelerate her own motives. There was nothing she did that benefited anyone other than herself.”. By this point Lazarius had clothed his upper body again to hide the grotesque mutation. His attention on the group still here.

“I have already taken the liberty of returning to the remains of the Kashebahl estate; which of course belonged to her prior to my conscription into her service. My efforts were unsuccessful at best.”

Kross knew Raelyndia well; probably better than any of them here. Once wed to her; killed in her madness to prolong his mortality, cursing him to remain a specter so she could always have him. And ironically herself being beheaded by the same man who set off the events of the Dawnseeker and Magistrate ordeal. Kross got his ultimate revenge when he decapitated Kelkiros sparring himself and Verzatea the misery of knowing the Hound still lives. The withered face of the old man frowned; he knew Lazarius was right.

“I know of one place yet to look but the ordeal will be...dangerous getting there...”. Lazarius looked to his trusted council; or what remained of it since some had not been heard from in many months, their duties always taking them far from home but never truly gone.

[ V.D ] A titter of laughter stirred in thr Confessor, amusement plain upon her slender features whilst she adopted an incredulous expression. Her tone carried her mirth true as she meanders toward her floating book to now take the book up into her arms; The soft sizzle of her manipulative magic would announce the cease of the spell, her quil now poised in her hand to jot notes personally.

"After all we've endured, Lazarius, you still have to wonder if we'd go the extra length for one another?"

She'd flash their leader a reassuring smile before glancing among the group who currently gathered, her tone encouraging.

"We are not a weak people. We have more heart and sense when together, family will always protect family--," her eyes linger on the fresher face of Pame whom held the Confessors stare, "No matter the length of your servitude."

With a clearing of her throat, the kaldorei bows her head toward Lazarius, a fist pushed against her chest whilst affirming, "My efforts are devoted to this cause, however you see me useful I will perform at my best. I will not fail you."

It was short, simple and filled with honesty; While Pame had her reservations, she still felt a sense of duty to serve the individuals present. While she didn't have the courage to befriend them all, it was enough for Pame that they even tolerated her presence here and now. That had to mean soemthing postive, right? Well... Regardless, she'd finally stride closer to the gathered party, lingering beside a smiling Verzatea whom only affectionately regailed toward the nervous kaldorei, "Well look whos finally warmed up," she pokes fun, earning a small strangled smile from Pame.

[ J ] Jursol turned to smile and nod to Pame before returning her focus to Laz.

“Da magic seems to be deeply imbedded into him. It has been by a very skilled user. Her magic still be strong with dis. Dis have been on him for too long. Something must be done. Da damage to him we can only guess. If there be a way to remove dis, we must not waste more time then needed.”

Knowing this woman was clearly known around here, Jursol then turned them.

“We be needing anything you all know about her that could help. I be sure together we can help our friend here.”

[ L.K ] "All that is known about Raelyndia. . .even in your extended years and ageless lifespan I could not begin to explain all that my former Mistress had accomplished Jursol." Lazarius remained somewhat direct in that affirmation.

"She conscripted Doctor Whistletorque to construct this structure and shield us from the outside world. She single handedly manipulated and conscripted nearly every dark magic user within the Quel'dorei nobility. She was an unstoppable force. . .one that has attempted to return several times in the past already. Once through a woman named Morynth who claimed she was her reincarnation. . .and again through a corrupted text within our Library...even the taint of her misfortunes. . .the Hound; Kelkiros who had slain her. . .returned to haunt us."

No Lazarius was not trying to be crass her, just direct. Jursol needed to know.

"Whatever she has done here is not simply for effect, it is an omen. NZoth has risen from the tides and plans to retake Azeroth for the Black Empire. This was Raelyndias hour of Twilight. I am willing to wager she would have done this to coincide."

Lazarius peered to Verza who he'd need not remark to. She was present since the rebirth of the Order. His nod was all that was needed. Pame was another story.

Lazarius peered at the Kaldorei for some time. It was Marseille who stepped beside her and made a similar salute which seemed to calm the dark eyed lord. He appreciated both of their contributions.

[ V.D ] The notion of an Old God risen was enough to sour Teas mood. She had devoted her lust for power into this order, before their fall and during their rebuild phase; All for their worship to their Gods to be cast aside and focused on the order itself... Just in time for what would have been the prime of their servitude to come forth in the form of an Old God riled from their cage and unleashed to cause havoc upon the world.

Though that irritation quietly fizzled and died down in her belly as she settled, content with the notion that the Nine were above chaos for the sake of chaos. They had genuine goals in mind, intentions to make a comfortable living for their dark, twisted hearts. Something which Raelyndias and Nzoth threatened strictly with their existence.

Pame roused to attention at the sensation of a looming figure finding place beside her. Out of instinct she'd fail her disicpline to sneak a peek, the sight instantly provoking a smirk to collect on her lips. It was becoming increasingly strange to find a friend in someone once deemed her nemesis, alas she'd quickly come to relax... Her arms moving to fold over her torso and over her bosom, silver eyes soaking in the scene of a weary looking Tea trying to preserve her strength to come forth as simply stressed.

The exhaustion in her eyes expressed a different sort of ailment, but of course Pame remained silent on that issue.

"So this is mostly a tactic for her to get into people's heads?" She questions Lazarius, willingly engaging in direct conversation, "If its meant to coincide with the rise of Nzoth, is this Raelyndias's intentions to provoke chaos, or was she more strategic and thoughtful than that?"

Quite suddenly would the nimble woman flinch at a building pang in the back of her mind, a migraine slowly taking effect. One which made Teas tone of voice come forth snippier and less warm as she regards,

"And it best to consider... With the rise of Nzoth, how prepared are we to repel such a haunt?" Golden eyes fixate on the location of the eye on Laz's torso, Teas nostrils flaring as she inhales deeply, beginning to jot down notes whilst wearing a scowl,

"Haunts refering to both issues at hand... Nzoth, and Raelyndias. Shall I configure a list of all our remaining followers to compile a decent team, or have you a group in mind already to deal with your pending idea for Raelyn? And among the others yet to be utilized, I must ask... Will we have any part in this world's war against Nzoth?"

Her eyes flicker from her notes to Lazarius, watching the gentleman patiently as she notes, "For if Nzoth breaches Azeroth, surely they'll come for the Nine. Everyone will be at the Black Empires mercy."

At this notion, Pame shuffles in discomfort, her long ears twitching briefly before glancing around the council.

"Few in number," Pame remarks, earning Teas glance in surprise at the sheer amount of confidence in her tone, "But not lacking in power. While the odds are against us I'd say we have a fighting chance.

“That does not mean we are by any means invincible and sure to come out champions in this impending doom. The sensible to do is plan for every scenario," Tea tuts, waggling her quill at Pame-- alas, the length of her quill feather was miscalculated by Tea as the tip would tickle across Pames cheek.

And might the faintest snicker be heard from the scornful Kaldorei who swiftly batted at the feather in a shooing motion. And then a cheekily smiling Tea would endure the halfhearted glare she'd receive from Pame gladly.

[ L.K ] “To answer all of your questions...my plans have not changed for us. I was certain that keeping the Nine free from the wars would ensure our survival. But nobody could have foreseen Sylvannis and the depths of her treacherous nature. She bested us all again.”. Lazarius would find a seat near the good gnomish doctor and relax for a moment. “...as you all know...”

He would pause and glance between his sister, Pame, Verza Marseille and Jursol.

His words were slow and calculated but weighted.

“With the rise of Nzoth multiple cells of cultists attacked. Our order remains in jeopardy IF. . . if Raelyndia has returned as well. I do not see this happening in a physical manifestation though. Kross and I recovered her skull, she is very much dead. But, that does not mean we are free from threats. Every day the Black Empire threatens our world; our lives and the lives of our flock remain in grave danger...”

Lazarius glances at his hands as he took a moment to breathe.

“With most of our council missing or out of commission; I issued and emergency edict to allow all soldiers and magic users freedom to leave. Temporary leave. To return under their former races banners to fight for Horde or Alliance...and help end N’Zoth.

We do not currently have any force to withstand a direct attack. And with our Blade Warden and Harbinger having most of our active military in Silithus, we remain at a loss. Those who chose to remain here do so to protect the students and their families. I won’t risk open war and put anyone here in harms way. The Bastille will continue to stand and be a bastion for those who are here; and any who come from the wake of this onslaught.”

He would yet again wonder if his actions were truly guided by the right decision but knew that without the people here he would not be able to say he was strong. These were his most trusted and dear friends in this room; and he would lean on them for support.

“The eye is a very unforeseen presence. And without a true start or destination; I don’t know how to proceed. As I said, my visit to my old estate yielded some hope but we must be careful how we move about.

If we start a hunt to find answers, exposing ourselves to the outside world, it will draw attention. Anytime we use our powers and magic outside of the Bastille, it is like lighting a beacon to our exact location. Cultists will swarm us....so a strike force...we will need to be extremely self sustaining without need for magic.”

[ J ] Jursol listened closely knowing full well the risk they were all at. She knew many were returning to battle once more, even here they were not free of this war.

“So der be some missing? Dat never be good.”

She knew the magic most used here could be a problem. Lucky for her she knew magic many don’t. After all what troll don’t know Voodoo!

“Voodoo be a different kinda magic. Da Loa even be different and can help. Perhaps dey be of use in protecting dis place.” Jursol looked to Laz to see if her peoples ways could be of use. After all Voodoo was not the same as others magic, so perhaps it would not draw attention to them.

[ L.K ] “I don’t doubt that the Loa are powerful in their own right, but I think we are fine here. The void forge is operating at maximum capacity.”. Lazarius said as his ears twitched. The man peered up from the table and slowly put his mummified hands against the table. Who else heard that?

“In fact Missth Jursthol, the Basthtilles defensthes are better than ever now. Nothing outsthide an enormousth meteor crashing through the earth these hundred milesth into us will hurt us....”.

Whistletorque answered to reassure them that his construction was sound.

[ K. A ] Koltun; with his usual manners, simply heaved open the library doors, striding in like he owned the place and leaving a trail of sand and dust in his wake. Unlike usual however, the Demon Hunters normally bare chest was wrapped in bandaging with a thick cotton shemagh wrapped about his shoulders, neck and covering his mouth. Wraps covered his hands and feet and dust, caked along the leather of his wings, flaked off freely, displaying heavy weathering from months in the dessert heat.

Exhausted, he immediately bee-lined for the jug of water to the side, glad to see formalities had remained enough through the recent chaos to allow for refreshments. Koltun guzzled the water down in heavy, desperate gulps, unashamed that a good portion splashed down his chest to the floor.

It wasn't until the jug was empty and a belch had announced his thirst was sated; for now, that he finally turned to face what remained of his motley family crew.

"So... what I miss?" He grunted, tipping the jug up to his tongue just in case he missed a drop.

[ L.K ] The moment Koltun walked in Lazarius braced himself against the table. The sun baked god walked directly into the room like a bronzed beacon of hope; ruining the rug and the floor and the another rug, and that jug and water yup, water all over another ruined rug.

“So....what I miss?”.

Lazarius heard those words and damn near leapt over the fucking table. He fell into the large arms of the demon and wrapped his own carefully beneath the wings on his back. He placed his head against the sun baked chest of his brother in law. Dark pools of black began to form as Lazarius allowed the bleeding tears of viscous ichor to fall from his face and stain Koltuns chest.

“Youre safe....” Lazarius whispered softly.

This would be a rare sight for all of them who witnessed their often brooding and dark leader showing such kindness. Lazarius did not cry. He did not grieve, nor did he show affection. Perhaps some would have witnessed a tender moment in their time with him but for the most part; this was a mysterious part of his character. But Koltun was his brother; in every meaning of the word.

“...and you...you...ruined another rug...” he said laughing through his tears and gripping bother sides of the demons face. Lazarius peered into where his eyes were with his own black pools; he knew they were looking right back. There was a smile of happiness, part of the flock had returned.

[ K.A ] "Oof!"

The hunter chuffed, nearly dropping the jug at the sudden, and rather surprising, impact of Laz's hug. In fact Koltun barely caught Laz as much as the jug, gripping hold of the man as a face was pressed into his chest and the jug dangled from a desperate pinky claw to the side.

"I hope I'm alive. If not at least I look better than Kross. Besides, I told you before. You cant get rid of me that easily." He gave a toothy grin and glanced towards the others, just as surprised at the display of unusual affection.

Neither man was prone to such displays and for both to wind up in a hug was nearly mind-blowing. Coughing, Koltun set the jug down and fumbled back a return hold, offering a gentle, reassuring pat to Laz's back. Even he could see the odd, viscous tears soaking through the bandaging covering his scaled flesh, the odd warmth of it drawing a sigh. Tilting his horned head as Laz looked up at him, he flashed his usual grin and shrugged.

"Consider it getting your money's worth. Honestly it didn't match the drapes." Said the creature who couldn't see true color anymore. "Sorry it took me so long to get back. The world has turned to shit."

[ J ] Jursol’s eyes went right to the sound of the man entering the room, Jimba seemed to make a strange sound in her arms. Remaining silent and watchful as the Hunter burst into the room making a mess. She was about to say something when she saw Laz rush the man, embracing him as family. Her laughter was not controlled as she watched the two men.

“Dis be a mess I not be cleaning up.” Her smile was gentle as she watched them still.

“Da world be going crazy right now. Good to see some are returning safely.”

[ L.K ] Lazarius had pulled away enough that he was able to look over the scars and damages of his brother. He frowned at the comment about how long it took.

“*Why didn’t you summon us? Or contact Kross through the pit? ... or even use your talisman to get back here?”.

He stopped and shook his head, realizing he was overloading the demon with questions.

“What happened to you?”

Lazarius peered at Koltun his face went pure stone. Something was missing. He immediately disregarded the question and moved straight to the largest gap missing here.

“Where is Pyravari...Koltun.”.

Lazarius gripped his shoulders and met him face to face .

“Where is our sister.”.

He was of course speaking for himself and Siida who was more than likely on edge too waiting to know at the back of the room.

To Be Continued: In Mind of Misery: Reflections, Part 4

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fanpom-imagines · 5 years

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Requested by @infinity-war-heartbreak : I know Lord of the rings isn't as popular as it use to,but could you maybe do a Legolas x half elf half human!Reader? Maybe ,the reader is told to help with the quest to destroy the ring and at first Legolas and the reader bicker a bit,but when the reader gets hurt Legolas realizes that he could lose her and confesses his love?(sorry if it's cheesy)

Imagine being a Peredhil (half elf half human) and being with the fellowship while having a rivalry with Legolas.

Masterlist

Fandom: Lord of the Rings

Words: 2289 (got a little bit carried away)

Warnings: none

(Gender Neutral Reader)

(Translation: condo means prince in Sindarin)

In all honesty, I had no idea how I ended up on this long journey with four hobbits, one dwarf, one Dúnadan, one man, and one elf, but I guess it doesn’t matter does it? Since I’m already this far along with the fellowship.

It’s quite a peculiar circumstance, isn’t it? Kind of sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. All we need to do is walk into a tavern and we would be the joke of the realm. I thought to myself as I kept on walking not really paying any mind to where I set my feet which was a bad choice on my part. In return for not watching where I was going I end up tripping on a rock that stood out from the ground at ended up tripping which then ended with me bumping into the elf in front of me.

Great.

He looked back at me in anger with sharp pointed eyes that were almost as sharp as his ears.

“Watch where you’re going, Peredhil,” he growled the last word as if something foul tasting was stuck in his mouth. As if the word itself was disgusting to even think let alone speak.

“Oh, I’m sorry, condo,” I grumbled back in Sindarin which he only replied with a grumble under his breath as he moved along.

I huffed in irritation, but moved along nonetheless and followed in tow with the rest of the fellowship who by now had gotten used to mine and the elve’s antics.

After traveling for a good whole day once more, with gladly no interuptions, we set camp for the night to be able to rest and gather back the energy we had lost along the way.

I groaned out in relief as I stretched my back and my arms hearing a few satisfying pops and feeling my sore muscles starting to relax. I sigh and yawn as I lay down, but of course Legolas has to add in a comment once again.

Scoffing he says, “Do all Peredhil’s tire so easily or is it just you? I mean you haven’t even chosen to claim the Gift of Man yet you seem to already have the characteristics off a Peredhil who has.”

Before I could even reply Aragorn cuts me off and glares at the both of us before saying, “Can the two of you stop fighting for two seconds?! You fighting is starting to get unbearably annoying for all of us at this point. Both of you are my close friends, yet you do not seem to be able to get along.”

“How could I get along with this, condo, who can’t get off his high horse and actually treat me as his equal rather than as if I was below him?” I huffed out as I glared at Legolas when uttering the word ‘condo’ and then turning back to face Aragorn once more to finish what I had to say.

“All I’m saying is, is that the two of you need to find some common ground before you drive the rest of us mad.” Aragorn tried to reason as he massaged his temples in agitation and frustration.

“I got to agree with the girl on this one, even though she is half-elf, Legolas can be insufferable at times.” Gimli added in which only raised the tension in the air once more.

“Oh my God,” Aragorn groaned out as he just sat down as well.

Legolas was about to reply, but one of the hobbits, Samwise, cut in, “Could you two just not fight for the night? We all need rest and we won’t be able to get any if the two of you keep going on like this.”

“I don’t need rest,” Legolas muttered out as if he was a child which just earned a groan from the rest of the fellowship and made me on the other hand more irritated than before.

I honestly do not even know how we came to have such a rivalry. When we first started off on this journey. Legolas and I were quick friends, but it seems after he found out I was a Peredhil, he started to distance himself and become more snappy which in turn made me also aggravated and I guess from there the tension just started to build more. I don’t necessarily understand why he would feel the need to become more distant from me, but it may be the fact that even though Elves don’t have a specific social hierarchy, us half-elves have always been deemed as lesser by full blooded elves. I do not know if it’s because we have a choice to either live as elves with immortality or be able to live out the rest of our lives as humans after accepting the Gift of Man, but it has just never made sense to me. Though Legolas and I have a lot in common and not just our race wise, but also our culture wise as I as well had been raised by not just humans, but elves as well.

The whole situation between him and I was confusing to me and I believe to him too. It may be that because of how he was raised; he looks down upon me more just because that is what he was taught, but who knows really.

After a small glaring contest between the prince and I. We all ended up going to sleep seeing as there was no point in continuing any further in this unnecessary fight between the two of us.

It was a peaceful night with crickets playing their song of the night and the wind blowing from time to time, but it seems it wasn’t long lived. The world hasn’t seemed to be on our side as of late.

In the dark of night orcs had ambushed us. Though Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli had woken up before the ambush there wasn’t enough time to alert the rest of us quick enough. So the hobbits, Boromir, and I woke up to a rude awakening with Orcs surrounding us.

Without another thought, as an orc launched itself at me, I unsheathed my sword and and jumped into battle slashing and stabbing my way at the enemy along with the others. As I was fighting off one of the orcs from the corner of my eye I saw one orc coming up behind Samwise. I couldn’t just let the poor halfling fend for himself, I had to do something so I ran up behind the orc closing in on him and killed him swiftly, but it was a short lived victory as another orc came to ram into my side pushing me over into the ground and falling right on top of me with its full weight. I groaned out in pain, but twisted my body and pulled out my knife and stabbed it in the eye to be able to get a chance to escape from under the large beast. Thankfully, my plan worked and I was able to pull myself out from under it, but before I could stand back up to my full height and send down my sword on the orc for its finishing blow the orc stabbed me with its weapon in my thigh. I screamed out in pain and clutched my thigh and in turn dropping my weapon. A stupid and grave mistake, but thankfully before the orc could recover and stand up to full height Legolas swooped in and swiftly took care of it.

Legolas looked around seeing as that was the last orc and he turned to me and was about to open his mouth, but then his eyes widened as he caught sight of my wound and quickly ran over towards me. He kneeled down next to me and examined the wound as he stared at it in concern and worry.

“Aww don’t worry to much, condo, ‘tis merely a flesh wound,” I tried to smile, but my face twisted into an expression of discomfort as more pain shot through my leg.

“This is no time for jokes (Y/N). We need to get this sword out of your thigh and stop the bleeding before I becomes anymore serious,” Legolas said sharply, but rather than it being his usual tone of irritation it was now laced with concern.

I just nodded as the others came to huddle around me as Aragorn and Legolas took charge as they had the most knowledge of herbs and medicines.

All I could honestly remember from those painful hours of recovery was just pain and the fact that throughout the whole process Legolas was always there at my side. Huh, I guess he doesn’t hate me as much as he lets on after all.

After resting for a few days not only for me, but for everyone else to patch up any wounds they might have acquired or to hunt for any extra game or search for any extra supplies or food to help us on our journey and help restock what we lost in the ambush. I was able to walk again seeing as my elven-side’s recovery kicked in to help save my leg and help save us time as well.

During the night before we planed to one again head off on our way I stared up at the sky not really thinking about anything in particular; just taking in the views the world had to offer, but my stargazing session was cut short as Legolas’ voice cut through the air, interrupting the silence along with it.

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

I just shrugged at him knowing I had no real answer to his question.

After that we fell into silence once more till my mind wandered back to the day we got ambushed and I then realized, “You called me by my name.”

“What?”

“During the ambush you called me by my name rather than Peredhil,” I clarified for him.

“So?”

“You’ve always called me Peredhil, except at the beginning of our journey where you did not know that I was half-elven, and speaking of why do you hate me so much? It seems like the fact that I’m a Peredhil makes you uncomfortable around me.”

“I don’t.”

“What?” Now this time it was my turn to look at him in confusion.

“I don’t hate you. I just don’t really know what to do.”

“What do you mean?” At this point my mind was racing with many different possibilities and scenarios, but none of them seemed to make enough sense to me so I just let him speak.

“I have a sort of, how do you say, uhm...admiration for you, but the fact that I’m an elf prince and you’re a Peredhil makes me also very conflicted.”

I blushed at his statement. Sure, I had suitors in the past and I had a few court me none of them were, well, Legolas. I guess you could say, that even with all this bickering, I still somehow ended up admiring him too and seeing him in a light of more than just a partner.

“My my mind is conflicting with my heart,” Legolas confesses, “I’m royalty and I should marry to royalty and to someone who is a full blooded elf, well at least that is what my mind is telling me, but my heart is pushing me more towards you so I in turn though that if I had you hate me then maybe the decision between what my heart and what my mind wats wouldn’t be so difficult, but atlast it seems it didn’t really do much, did it?”

I chuckled out at him and smiled at him as he also returned it while we made eye contact with the other, “No, I guess it didn’t.”

“You know I was worried the two of you wouldn’t ever confess, but here we are,” Legolas and I whipped our heads toward the voice only to see Aragorn smirking at the two of us before winking and turning back around to catch more sleep, but not before muttering, “Before you do anything remember, people are trying to sleep.” And with that he fell back to sleep leaving the two of us wide eyed.

After a pregnant pause we looked back at one another before we ended up laughing lightly, as to not wake anyone else up, at what he said.

“It is kind of ridiculous now that I think about it.” I laughed out as my mouth widened into a larger smile.

“Yeah it is,” Legolas sighed out as he leaned closer to me which somehow had made my body react in the same way. Compelling me to lean forward. I glanced down at his lips as he did the same and I smiled up at him, with him returning it, but just as the two of us were about to meet Legolas let out a yelp, and I giggled at his reaction. Legolas quickly turned back to the source that had kicked him and caused him the slight pinch of pain only to see a grumpy Grimli glaring at the two of us.

“Save it for when you’re alone, lover boy,” and at that the dwarf went back to his slumber leaving a baffled and aggravated elf and me, a peredhil trying to contain my laughter at the events that just took place.

“I guess we could continue in the morning,” I laughed out as I kissed Legolas’ on the cheek before also turning in for the night leaving a blushing elf as he looked on into the night trying to refocus on trying to spot any enemies that could attack us during the night.

#legolas #legolas x reader #legolas imagine #lotr #lotr imagine #lotr x reader #the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x reader #the lord of the rings #the lord of the rings imagine #the lord of the rings x reader

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sebthesnipe · 4 years

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‘The Only Virgil’

February Prompts 2/19

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My Dearest Procyon

Other works by me

Prompt: Waste / Warmth

Ship: Prinxiety and logicality

Original story based on this wonderful post by @underdog-arts

Logan stretched, claws extending from his paws as his back arched, a yawn escaping him. It was nice to finally have a roof over their heads. It had been awhile since either of the witches had slept in a bed as well. He flopped onto his side, soaking up the sun that shone through the window of the tiny room, basking in its warmth.

They had arrived at the village the day before and found the closest inn to purchase a room. Roman, of course, had a number of things to say in response to discovering that they were all meant to share one room. Eventually Virgil caved and allowed the man to purchase a second, under the guise that it would be improper for a lord to bed with his underlings. In all honesty, the guy was definitely taking the whole ruse a bit too seriously. Still, Virgil was a bit more at ease not having to face the man’s morning routine; which, according to Logan was extensive.

The group had split in two, Logan and Roman in one room, Patton and Virgil in the other. Everyone seemed to have their protests at Virgil’s room assignments but they all came around eventually.

“Do you really plan on lounging about all day?” Virgil grumbled as he pulled on his other boot, shooting the cat a glare. “We have to be moving on soon and supplies need to be gathered. It would be easier if you put in your fair share of work.”

‘Yes, because merchants would most certainly love to barter with a feline.’ Logan replied sarcastically, tail flicking lazily back and forth.

“At least I’m trying to be productive,” Virgil hissed in return. “Meanwhile, you’re just being a waste of space.”

‘Virgil,’ He could practically hear the sigh in the projected voice, “tensions caused by becoming hyper focused on tasks at hand can become unhealthy if you are not careful.’

“Yeah, well, someone has to make sure we’re being careful!” Virgil shot back, moving to pull on his cloak, “Plus, somehow, I got stuck on babysitting duty. Princey thinks he can buy everything in sight and Patton won’t stop his screeching every time we walk by a shop, or a child, or a stray. I am pretty sure he started squealing at a piece of trash yesterday. The man has an unhealthy obsession with anything that could be considered ‘cute'. So, I’m afraid that ‘Tense Virgil’ is ‘The Only Virgil’ you’re getting today.”

Logan gave another stretch, both front and back paws extended before he rolled off the window sill, landing on his feet just beneath it with a resounding plop. He gave one more yawn before striding over to the witch and jumping on the bed next to him.

‘I apologize that I am unable to assist you in our errands, Virgil. I do hope you understand my reasoning.’ The cat offered, peering up at him with those mismatched eyes.

Virgil glanced down to meet his gaze, his frown deepening before he pulled up his hood to hide it. He hated when Logan used that soft tone against him; the bastard knew that Virgil was weak against it and took full advantage of that fact.

“I do,” the witch growled in annoyance, “if anyone saw a raccoon traveling with you guys, they would ask too many questions, and your whole shirtless thing could be an issue too. I understand the reasons, Logan.” Of course, knowing the reasons and liking them were two different things.

There was a lapse in their conversation as Virgil moved to stand, beginning to pack a bag for the day.

The witch still wasn’t quite sure what was going on between Logan and Patton, but he was not about to let the tiny man have a chance to work more of the spell he was putting on his friend, whatever it was. As for Patton, Virgil was fairly sure part of the reason he was so keen on bunking with Virgil’s partner was simply because of his feline affliction.

‘It seems that you had acquired the majority of the supplies we needed during your trip into the market yesterday. Perhaps you could take the opportunity to do something you enjoy today? If you are worried about Roman and Patton, I will remain with them to make sure nothing happens.’ Logan offered, jumping down from the bed and moving to sit next to the door.

“Something I enjoy?” Virgil scoffed, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “What could I possibly enjoy, surrounded by so many normal people?”

‘Well,’ Logan offered, knowing full well how much Virgil detested society, ‘I happened to have been gathering some information about the local area during our time apart yesterday and may have a few suggestions.’

“I am all ears,” the man hissed sarcastically, turning to face the feline.

‘There is a musical troupe on the north side of the village that has the townspeople quite enthusiastic,’ Logan offered in return. He still didn't quite understand the expression ‘all ears’, despite Virgil's countless explanations. Nothing could be 'all ears'. It would be unrealistic and useless.

“Which means there will be a crowd. I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

‘There is also a book shop near the noble district.’

That had Virgil hesitating. Logan knew how much the man loved reading. In fact, he had never met anyone that had a similar passion for the written word outside of himself, though their prefered subject matter differed greatly. It had been some time since Virgil had managed to get his hands on a new book. Maybe he could just take a quick look, if he just happened to be in the area.

‘And while you are there, perhaps you could attain a small text for myself?’

“Ah, I see,” Virgil mused, with a small smile. “So, the truth comes out. You just want me to go because you found a book that you want.” The accusation had Logan’s tail twitching as he lifted a paw to rub against one of his ears, almost as if the cat was nervous.

‘I will admit, I had hoped you would find the opportunity preferable for my own gain, but I would not fault you for refusing.’

“Relax, Logan,” Virgil chuckled. “I’ll swing by and pick up your book. Now come on, I left Patton and Roman to go down for breakfast by themselves, there is no telling how much trouble those two have already gotten into.”

…………………….

The witches found both Patton and the prince at a small table in the corner of the common room. Roman lounged against the wall, head resting against it as he snored softly. It was obvious that the inconsistent sleeping schedule he now found himself on was taking its toll. The red cloak Patton had given the prince was currently draped across the sleeping man’s broad chest like some sort of blanket, most likely the tiny man’s doing as well.

The smaller man in question sat next to Roman’s sleeping form, the prince’s muscled figure making him look almost childlike in comparison as he toyed with a number of small flowers that littered the table, humming a soft tune.

It took a moment for Patton to notice Virgil and his furry companion resting on his shoulder. As soon as he did however, he shot them a large broad smile and motioned them over.

“Well, hey there!” Patton greeted in his usual sunny way as the two witches drew closer, “I was starting to worry you two were going to miss breakfast. The food here is really paw-some.” The wink he provided was certainly an unnecessary attachment to such a torturous pun.

Logan eyed the small man carefully. Despite the fact that he had managed to sleep longer last night than the other three, Patton looked tired. Dark circles rimmed the bottom of his eyes, his cheeks a bit flushed. The sight was certainly cause for concern when considering what the man actually was. Logan did not have much knowledge of dragons, but there had been nothing in the lore that mentioned that they were prone to illness.

Virgil moved to sink into the chair across from the smaller man, pushing away the empty plate in front of Roman to make a bit of extra room. He glanced at the larger man, pursing his lips in frustration. He just couldn't understand how someone so obnoxious, even in his sleep, could still look so perfect. As if to prove his point, the prince snored loudly to the point that the sound startled himself awake with a jerk.

"I think I will pass this time, thanks.” Virgil said in response to Patton, “There are a few more things I'd like to do before we leave," Virgil explained as Roman ran a clumsy hand through his curls, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. The witch’s face heated slightly at the sight of Roman's half lidded expression, messy curls framing his face haphazardly.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, kiddo. You really should eat something," Patton countered with worry in his voice.

"I’ll pick up something on the way. For now, I need you two to stay here with Logan," he instructed.

"Wait," Roman's groggy voice interrupted, making Virgil finally meet his tired gaze. "You mean, you plan on going out into the village alone?"

The prince’s words earned a glare from the witch. Why did this man make him feel so flustered? "Yeah, what of it?" Virgil growled.

"Well, that simply won't do!" Roman replied, his voice booming with the regal tone Virgil was starting to grow accustomed to. "A gentleman such as yourself should not be walking the streets alone! People would get the wrong idea! What if something happened? What if you were attacked or mugged?!"

"I'm pretty sure that wouldn't happen” Virgil scoffed. "Besides, even if it did, they would end up getting the short end of the stick," Roman's concern was endearing, but far too over dramatic for the witch's taste.

"Nevertheless, I shall accompany you!" Roman interjected with a flourish of his hands.

"No."

'No.’

Virgil tensed as he felt the word brush against his mind at the same time he had spoken. He glanced at the source: the small cat now sitting in the chair next to him.

Logan's tail twitched anxiously as he peered up at the two men. With the way things were going, it would be unwise to allow the prince and his partner to spend anytime alone together. Despite his emotional shortcomings, Logan could see that Virgil was warming up to the prince. The closer the two got, the more likely the vision would come true. He was not going to let that happen.

Virgil's gaze narrowed in response to Logan's reaction, his frown deepening. Logan had never forbade Virgil from doing anything before, so why now? Why was he so adamant about this? Was it because of Patton? Did he not want to be alone with the pyromancer?

Virgil's gaze shifted to the smaller man who smiled brightly at him. No, it wasn't that Logan didn't want to be alone with Patton. Patton seemed thrilled by the idea of staying behind, bouncing in his chair with excitement. If Virgil had to guess it was just due to the fact that he got to spend more time with Logan in his cat form.

No, Logan didn't want Virgil and Roman to be alone. Was that the reason for the room assignments? But why? And why was Logan hiding something from him? Secrecy was so unlike the feline.

"On second thought," Virgil offered, pulling his gaze away from the cat and spotting the pout that had apparently settled on Roman's features. "Why not?"

"Really?!" Roman brightened instantly, the shining look so luminous it should have been illegal.

"Sure, like you said, people would get the wrong idea, and I'm supposed to be one of your servants, right?" Virgil offered. He could feel their other two companions eyes on him, boring holes into his very soul.

'Virgil… I know what you are doing,' Logan's voice came, 'This is childish. You need a healthy amount of time to yourself. You have said it multiple times, the prince makes you tense. How are you expected to relax?'

Virgil ignored him, pushing to his feet before pointedly meeting both Logan's and Patton's gaze as if in defiance. Logan's scramble to convince Virgil to leave the prince behind only seemed to reinforce his theory. Perhaps taking Roman with him would give the witch an opportunity to see what the other man knew about the situation and why they were being lied to.

To be continued...

Taglist:

@hiddendreamer67 @nightashes @aequinoctiale @sumersnowlilly

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meetthetank · 5 years

Text

Peccatum Chapters 11-13

Sooooo I am booboo the fool and kept forgetting to post the new chapters here when I updated them on Ao3. On that note, enjoy a 3 for 1 mass posting

Ao3 Links: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454675/chapters/47532154 https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454675/chapters/48310690#workskin https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454675/chapters/49764506#workskin Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), A2/A4 (NieR: Automata), Jackass/The Commander (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), A2 (NieR: Automata), A4 (NieR: Automata), 6O (NieR: Automata), 21O, Jackass (NieR: Automata), The Commander (NieR: Automata) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe, genre typical violence, long fic, Slow Burn, War, Chapter 13 is rated E Language: English

Chapter 11: Vigo

It’s both a blessing and a curse being surrounded by droves of people. 9S likes the ability to disappear into a crowd, but the more people means the more likely he is to be discovered. At least, marching in line with the other scouts in the midst of the rest of the army, strangers wouldn’t be inspecting him too closely. That being said, he can’t shake the feeling that the eyes of the displaced and terrified citizens of Vigo were staring straight into his soul.

What was once a bustling port city is now a vacant array of buildings surrounded by hundreds of hastily pitched tents and camps. The situation is clearly much worse than White had anticipated, seeing as most if not all of the population camps about a mile away from the actual city and there seem to be no signs of protection or higher authority. They pass by several groups of people who almost swarm the march with their hands out desperately asking for things like food, water, and medicine. As much as the sight hurts 9S to watch, he had to march boldly, ignoring the cries of the suffering.

There’s multiple times where 9S has to scan the crowd. He’s certain he senses the presence of other half-demons here, though with so many in the crowd it’s hard to pick out exactly where they are. For a split second his hopes soar at the possibility that he won’t have to hide as badly here, but the tension and fear that hangs in the air quells that hope as quickly as it rises.

The city itself, vacant as it is, is one of the more opulent ones 9S has visited. Well maintained cobblestone streets, every building decorated with white marble columns contrasted by rich red brickwork and flanked by grand statues of what he assumes to be commissioning senators. He had heard the port town was wealthy, but he supposed he had to see it to believe it. If only he could take the time to actually enjoy the place.

White leads the army through the center of the practically abandoned city towards the barracks belonging to the city guard, right past a structure that chills 9S to the bone. An execution block, complete with gallows, cages, stockades, and other cruel methods of death. The dark wood and the cobblestone around it is stained dark and decorated with graffitied slurs and crude depictions of half-demons. 9S makes sure his glamor charm is hidden away under his coat and tries to not look at the grim sight for too long.

So far the only other people they pass by in Vigo are stubborn vagrants who refuse to abandon their homes, or volunteer soldiers bringing food and what little water they can find to the tent city. White commands the army to halt while she and Jackass enter the sparsely guarded judicial building, however they return with scowls. White snaps at a nearby city guard who sprints away as if he had seen a demon. 9S wonders if the Commander is the highest authority still left in the city…

Without the need to announce their arrival, since there were no authority figures besides White, the army files into the barracks and prepares themselves to settle in for a long time. There was no way to tell when they would be called into battle, so most of the soldiers believed they would be assigned to assist with moving people and ferrying supplies to and from the camps. 9S isn’t sure if he agrees with that, but he didn’t anticipate the cowardice of the ruling class, so at this point, anything could happen.

He also doesn’t expect just how cramped the city’s barracks would be. Everyone regardless of station, with the exception of Commander White herself, are nearly shoulder to shoulder as they unpack and claim beds. The scouts all congregate at the back of the bunk room, and though the tension between 9S and 801S is still palpable, they both help each other and the rest of the scouts get situated in their small spaces. 9S wonders if he should apologize for how he acted a few days back, after all, 801S was in the right. Wandering away from the group was incredibly dangerous, even if it really wasn’t his fault.

“Hey...Nines?” 32S quietly says to him once most of the others are sprawled out on their beds for a moment of rest.

“Hm? Everything okay?”

32S fidgets with a simple charm on his bracelet, “Yeah, um… Did you see-”

“The town center? Yeah…” a grim look crosses 9S’ face.

“I didn’t know Vigo was so dangerous to...us.”

“I didn’t either. According to 42S’ report, it seemed more tolerant than most towns…”

“What changed?”

“Demon attacks,” 801S muttered, shuffling past the two, “I’d imagine between regular demon sieges and whatever the thing in the bay is only fueled tensions.”

“Oh…” 32S’ head drops, “Right.”

801S sighs and places a hand on his companion’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine if you just stick with the squad. Not even an angry mob would dare attack a group of uniformed soldiers.”

9S jabs 801S in the side, perhaps a little too roughly, “Ssh. Not so loud.”

He almost snaps at 9S but shuts up once he sees the small troop of city guards and Republic soldiers shuffle through the crowd of White’s soldiers. One gives the scouts an odd look before continuing onward.

“Odds are they’ve got orders to apprehend anyone they suspect of being half breeds,” 9S whispers, “If they hear any of us it won’t matter what army we’re a part of and it would get the Commander in serious trouble.”

“Why don’t you get 2B to protect you.” says 801S with a scowl.

9S is about to snap back at him, but Jackass looming just a few beds down forces him to keep quiet. For now at least.

“Okay boys listen up,” she grumbles in a low tone, just barely loud enough for the scouts to hear, “White and I suspect something’s wrong. No Senator, no Mayor, no Councilors, not even a Merchant Lord. You lot and I are gonna do some snooping around the camps, see if any of the civilians know what’s going on. Be geared up and at the front of the barracks in an hour.”

The moment Jackass is out of earshot, the scouts let out a collective groan.

“I know it isn’t a Senator’s estate, but it’ll be a lot more comfortable than the barracks,” 6O says with a playful wink.

2B stands awkwardly in the small bedroom that her friend had rented at a steep discount through a mix of feminine charms and a flash of military affiliation. A free place to stay required her to be an official part of White’s army after all.

“All this is...for me?” she asks.

“Yep! Well, at least until we move out again. After that either you stick with us or you pay on your own.”

“Thank you,” 2B bows her head to her friend, “What do I owe you in repayment?”

“Nothing, you dumb chicken!” 6O jabs her in the rib lightly, “This is me repaying you for that stunt you got me out of during the Equinox Festival?”

“If I hadn’t covered for that mess you made with the Elder’s granddaughter and that botched wedding you would have been eaten alive. Literally.”

“I know! That’s why I’m repaying you! Besides, that innkeeper would do anything for a pretty lady.”

“Oh really?” she crosses her arms across her chest and allows for a coy smirk, “Do you know any?”

“Hey watch it, Featherbrain, I can still let you sleep in the streets.”

2B puts her hands up defensively, “I kid, I kid. Though all this does seem a bit...unnecessary. I hope that doesn’t sound ungrateful.”

“Huh? Why, are you planning on exploring the city?” a smirk of her own plays across 6O’s lips, “Ooor….are you planning on fooling around with a certain scout? Hmm?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” 6O is taken aback by her honesty and bluntness, “...You two are really hitting it off, huh?”

2B nods, “He’s interesting and…” she shakes her to let the downy feathers beneath her hair settle before they puff out too much, “...Cute.”

“Interesting and cute, huh? Is that all it takes to win the heart of a Coatyl?”

“Please,” 2B huffs, “I’m not that easy to woo. But…”

“Buuuut….?”

“I was thinking about...um,” she turns away and tries to smooth down her hair, “...Going out to find a...stone.”

6O gasps and bounces on her heels with barely contained excitement, “Are you serious?! Oh, 2B!! When are you gonna give it to him?! You have to tell me! As your best friend and self-appointed emotional guardian, I have a right to know!”

“I don’t know. I have to find one first…”

“You come to me the moment you do! Promise?!”

“I promise, 6O.”

In hindsight, it probably would have been safer for 9S to stick with the other scouts while investigating the refugee camps, but he needed to get away from 801S and his constant jabs at his closeness to 2B. Every single time he thinks about maybe apologizing, that guy always ends up pushing back. It’s like he has mind-reading powers or something. It all just makes 9S’ blood boil.

Just thinking about 2B makes his head spin. It’s such a bizarre situation he never thought he’d find himself in, and there’s no easy solution to it. Cutting her loose wouldn’t work, she wouldn’t leave the only real lead to her sibling. That and 9S gets the feeling she’s become...attached to him, which is a whole other wheelbarrow of manure for him to sift through and possibly the reason for all the conflict between him and the other scouts.

He’d be an idiot if he denied having feelings for her. She’s strong, mysterious, and sweet beneath the abrasive personality. There were glimmers of genuine kindness that every time he gets a peek, he wants to see more and more…

God, he’s got it bad for her.

Stupid lousy goddamn sexy dragoness…

Then there was the whole issue of his bloodline and the danger that put him and 2B in, which is just...Great.

At least he could lose himself in his work. A good puzzle always kept his mind off of distressing things.

9S spends an hour or so mingling with those civilians that were involved in higher government before it all disappeared. Most declined to speak at first, but nothing a bit of wine couldn’t fix seeing as how luxuries were hard to come by. According to one tax collector, the Senator had fled the town the moment the demon first surfaced, and his assistants soon after. One by one the mayor, councilors, even treasurers secured passage out of Vigo before any of the civilians knew what was happening. Of course, 9S shouldn’t be surprised at this, but it still makes him sick to his stomach that they would just leave their people to die like this? Maybe growing up with authority figures like White, Jackass, and his mother made him less tolerant of this sort of behavior.

The last real authority figure still lingering around is an old wharfmaster, who shut down all ship traffic in the harbor after the second demon sighting. He’s much more forthcoming with information than the others, telling 9S about how shutting the harbor down was a very unpopular decision. With demon attacks on the rise, many civilians from all over flocked to the port city for passage to the blessed grounds of the Theocracy. Even with a massive mystery demon in the bay the water is still the safest option, with the other two being a vast desert and an even larger primordial bog, both filled with creatures far worse than whatever was lurking in the depths.

Unfortunately, that’s the extent of what he’s able to learn. No one seems to know where the nobles went or how long they planned on staying away. Their houses and most of their belongings were left behind and promptly ransacked once word spread, though 9S doubts if anything terribly valuable was taken.

He begins making his way back to the barracks to compile his report when he runs into his mother and the other supply wagons. On either side of the caravan are several city guards that escort them through the camps and into the city proper. 21O leads the horses pulling the raven wagon and gives a brief wave to 9S as she passes by. He sprints up to her while shoving his notebook into his satchel.

“Hey, what took you guys so long?” he says after catching his breath.

“Customs officers needed to inspect the wagons before letting us into the city.”

“Really?”

21O gives him an odd look, “Is that so hard to believe? It’s a large city important to the Republic.”

“Well, the city government is all but gone aside from a few tax collectors and a wharfmaster. Everyone else fled after the first sighting.”

She sighs, “We should have expected this.”

“At least we don’t have to pander to some stuffy aristocrat while we’re here, right?”

“In a sense, yes, but there is a good chance that those stuffy aristocrats will be sending messengers to make sure we adhere to their rules.”

“Yeah, yeah…” 9S grumbles.

“One affirmation is enough.”

“Fiiiiine.”

9S hops onto the wagon so he can finish getting all of his notes for his report written down, stopping occasionally to calm the squawking birds. It isn’t long before city hall comes into view, as well as an ornate carriage. Two nearly identical white haired men walk with White and Jackass. Something about the two of them gives 9S a...strange feeling.

“Who are they?” he asks.

21O stares at the two men for a much longer time than 9S thought necessary, “...I don’t know. They could be envoys.”

“Well,” mutters 9S, “...I have to turn my report into Jack-...The Lieutenant.” he hops off the wagon just as it passes the city hall.

“You’re not going to eavesdrop on the commander again, are you?” his mother chastises, “Remember how long you were stuck on latrine duty the last time they caught you?”

“I’m gonna catch her before their meeting, don’t worry.” he groans, but a smirk crosses his face just as 21O gets out of earshot, “...And I won’t get caught this time.”

Slipping into the city hall is easy enough. 9S is small enough his footsteps barely make a sound even on marble floors, and there’s plenty of statues, columns, and furniture of obscure him from view. The real problem is finding which of the hundreds of offices and council chambers his superior officers are using. Door after door of empty rooms, storage closets, and baffling fake doors, he finally hears the muffled grumbling of Jackass.

“...is why they had to send the two of you. Why not meet us personally.”

9S crouches near the door and eases it open just a tad so he can hear better.

“Again,” the man with long white hair says, his voice smooth and almost velvet like, “We apologize that the Senator could not be here to meet you and your army in person, but he does send his thanks for coming to his city’s aid.”

“I see,” White says, tapping her chin.

“Now, the reason for our visit,” he motions to what appears to be his twin, a man with short wild white hair, to lay a series of parchments in front of White and Jackass, “The Senator and the city councilors have compiled their plans for evacuating civilians.”

“And enlisting a Theocratic battalion is part of these evacuations?” Jackass snaps and gestures to the packet in her hands.

“Yes,” the long haired man remains calm, “They are the most effective legion to dispose of the demonic threat, and seeing as your troops are not prepared to handle an evacuation or the demon in the harbor-”

White holds up her hand, “Incorrect. My lieutenant has been devising a countermeasure of our own for some time. As for the civilians, our troops are more than capable of handling evacuations.”

The long haired man is silent for a moment while his short haired companion childishly slumps over the table, “...Very well. Under your discretion we will leave the tasks outlined in these documents to you and your army. I am...curious of this...countermeasure you mentioned. Would it be enough to eliminate the demon in the water?”

Jackass produces some documents of her own and arranges them on the table. Oh how 9S’ wishes he could see them.

“It requires two ships to carry it, but there’s enough power in cannon to level a small city. Unless this demon is immune to half a ton of solid metal flying at it at about ...three hundred miles per hour, we’re fine.”

“This contraption is...experimental, yes?”

Jackass tenses up, “Yes, but I’ve overseen every part of its design. It will work.”

He nods, “Very well. If the beast surfaces again we will prepare your...cannon. The Senator’s provisions and supplies are at your disposal.”

White bows, “Thank you. We will begin preparations for the evacuations immediately.”

The two white haired men return the bow and turn to the door. For the briefest of moments, the one with long hair locks eyes with 9S and an unnatural chill runs through his body. He’s frozen in place by the man’s hypnotic red eyes, and 9S swears he smiles at him. As they move towards him, 9S scrambles away as quickly and as quietly as he can. They don’t shout or follow or chase after, they just leave.

When they pass by him, that same chill makes 9S shudder and the hideous whispering of the girls in red begin to creep into his mind. The long haired man smirks idly as he stares in his general direction.

His inhuman, red eyes bore into 9S’ soul...

Chapter 12: Cherry Boy

With little over a week and no sign of the strange demon in the bay, 9S beings to wonder if maybe this is all just a big hoax. Perhaps the Senator and Councilors fabricated this all as a ploy to interrupt the mass evacuation, or simply to have a stronger military presence at their disposal. He’s sure that Commander White and Jackass are suspicious as well, considering they waste no time putting him and the other scouts to work. It’s mostly busy work and assisting the refugees on the outskirts of the city, but there are a number of times where they have the ulterior motive of watching Adam and Eve, the twin messengers of the Senator.

Simply looking at the twins sends shivers down his spine. Their eyes, demeanor, stark white hair, even the way they speak sets off something within him. Not to mention the fact that whenever they’re nearby, he hears the nauseating whispers of...whatever those girls in red are. He knows they’re demons, but he’s not sure which kind or if they’re full blooded or not.

Of course, 9S told Jackass of his suspicions, which were met with solemn nods and promises of “working on it”. As much as it frustrates him that there isn’t immediate action, it is a delicate situation. Those twins hold themselves in a position of power over the entire army, one false move and White would end up in a mess of trouble. Jackass needs irrefutable proof that those two aren’t human to make a proper case against them.

However, there’s only so much he can do in one day.

His entire morning and afternoon is spent assisting his mother with care of the ravens and sorting incoming mail, as well as keeping tabs on the twin messengers under the guise of simple errands for the wharfmaster. With the added bonus of 801S being assigned to assist, 9S pushes himself and 801S to complete all of their tasks as quickly as possible. Luckily, 801S agrees with him, albeit sullenly.

9S sighs to himself as he walks with 801S. Their little feud has been going on for quite some time, and frankly the whole thing exhausts him.

“Hey...801S?” he begins.

“Yeah?”

He sounds genuine at least, that’s a good sign, “I...Look I know I’ve been a jerk to you and the others recently.”

801S says nothing, but regards his friend with wary but patient eyes.

“I just wanted to apologize for how I’ve been acting recently. We’re supposed to be a team, but I’ve just been thinking of myself.”

Again, 801S says nothing for a long time, only staring at 9S while he frets with the hem of his sleeve.

“...I can hardly blame you. She is very pretty,” he says finally, a small grin creeping on his face.

9S’ face flushes red, “Y-...She is. But that doesn’t excuse the way I’ve treated everyone.”

He shrugs, “By this point it’s just me who’s still holding a grudge. But...Maybe I’m still bitter.”

“About?”

“You know…” 801S gives his friend a sad look and a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh...Yeah. Listen, I know that we didn’t, um...work well as a couple, but you’re still my friend. No matter what.”

“I know that it’s just...It makes me feel weird seeing you go after someone else, especially a woman. I know I don’t have any right to feel that way but that’s the truth.”

9S rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah…”

“I owe you an apology as much as you do. So...I’m sorry for being such a jealous dunce.”

9S laughs a bit, “We really are a mess aren’t we.”

“No, just you. Mr. I’m gonna fall for a dragoness.”

“W- Wait hang on!” he sputters, “I did not fall for her!”

“Oh really?” 801S teases, and for the first time in a while, his coy smirk appears, “Then once we get back to the barracks, where were you gonna go?”

“N-None of your business!”

9S self-consciously pulls his scarf over his face and dashes away, leaving behind a laughing 801S.

“Good luck, moron!”

2B sits on 6O’s bed, legs folded beneath her. She turns a smooth, blue-ish pebble over and over in her hand while 6O combs her thin fingers through the downy undercoat of 2B’s hair.

“Soooo...Is this the one?” 6O asks, twisting a few strands into a loose braid.

“I think so, the sheen and color of this stone is much better.”

“When are you gonna give it to him?”

2B hums in thought, “I’m not sure, there isn’t very often where the two of us are alone…Perhaps I’ll ask him if he wants to go on a walk?”

“That might work, but…” she mutters, “Sorry, Toobie, but I can’t help but wonder what would happen if he doesn’t accept?”

“Well, it wouldn’t change much really,” 2B responds, “It’s merely a statement of intention.”

“You can say that all you like, but you and I both know what the common meaning of one of those stones is.”

She huffs and attempts to smooth down her hair before it becomes too fluffed up, “Hush.”

6O giggles and returns her attention to the simple pattern of plaits and braids she’s weaving through her friend’s hair. Through some of the braiding she places small colorful flowers. Some purple and blue, others bright red like drops of blood.

“Still, I can’t help but think the meaning and symbolism might be lost on him. He’s never had exposure to Coatyl culture beyond what you’ve explained to him.”

2B can’t help but agree. Without knowledge of what this stone means, it’s just a simple rock. She turns it in her hands, running her thumb over the smooth peaks and troughs of the little blue stone.

“...I’m still going to do it.”

“I know,” 6O says with a giggle, “I know better than to try and stop you once you’ve made up your mind. Oh, but you...Um, has your uh ...time, passed?” she mumbles, fidgeting with a small, hair-like feather.

“Yes, my yearly heat ended several months ago.”

6O lets out an audible sigh of relief which earns her a pointed glare from 2B, “Oh quiet, I’m allowed to fret.”

“I am not some wanton teenager. I know what I’m doing.”

“You could have fooled me.” 6O teases.

“Listen-”

Just as 2B is about to scold her dearest friend for her overbearing behavior, she spots 9S waving from just down the hall. Hastily, she stuffs the stone in one of her pockets before he gets too close.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear!” 6O greets as 9S lets out an annoyed groan.

“Ha ha,” he says with a deadpan tone, “I’ve never heard that one a million times.”

2B shuffles slightly as she waves to 9S, who plops down on the bed next to her.

“Wow, your hair looks really pretty with all these flowers in it!” he says while running the tips of his fingers along one of her braids, “Like a...like a snow field with little flowers poking out of it.” He knows his face is bright red, but he doesn’t feel the telltale flutters of his heart or shaking of his hands. He just smiles and runs his fingers over the patterns of braids and flowers.

6O snickers and teases him for being a budding poet, but 2B can’t help but notice how her heart skips a beat.

“Thank you…”

“Aww,” 6O coos, “Look, when she gets flustered her hair gets all poofy. Like an angry bird!”

2B shoves her friend playfully as 9S giggles next to her. Suddenly the stone in her pocket feels twice as heavy, “Ahem...Anyway, 9S, what are you doing here? I thought you were loaded with tasks?”

“Ugh, yeah,” he groans, “But 801S and I managed to finish everything more quickly than I thought, so now I have the rest of the day to myself.”

“Ooo,” 6O says, leaning in close to the two of them, “What are you gonna do with all your free time?”

“Um,” 9S looks to the floor, his face suddenly heating up, “Well, 2B, if you’re also free, I was thinking maybe we could explore the city? It’s really quiet since everyone is trying to leave. Usually places like this are swarming with tons of people all the time. It can get pretty overwhelming.”

2B and 6O exchange glances with each other. 6O sports a wide grin and excited eyes, while 2B’s face remains as neutral as ever, aside from the slight shifting of the flowers in her hair.

“Sure,” says 2B, “I’ve never been to a human city before, at least not one as big as this. I’d appreciate a tour.”

“Great!” 9S nearly bounces to his feet, taking 2B’s hand in his and pulling her up as well, “I’ll meet you out front in a few minutes! I’m gonna change out of my uniform!”

Before 2B can respond he’s already out the door, his excited footsteps echoing through the barracks. She feels her heart flutter like the wings of a fledgling and thinks herself rather silly.

6O leans close to her, a wicked grin spreading across her face, “Soooo….”

“Hush.”

“Come on Two Beeeeee! This is the perfect opportunity!”

“Hush.”

She grabs 2B’s shoulders and rocks them back and forth, “You gotta!! 2B you have to!”

“Hush,” 2B shuffles herself away from 6O and rises to her feet. She lifts her scabbard and slings the strap across her shoulders, then makes her way towards the barrack’s exit, “....Maybe I will. Depending on how things go.”

The excited shouting of 6O is the last thing 2B hears before she shuts the door behind her.

Even 2B, someone who had never set foot in a city this size, couldn’t help but feel unnerved by the vacant streets and silent buildings. The comparisons to a forest of stone trees were not lost on her. A forest with no life in it whatsoever, aside from the handful of stubborn folks who seem determined to die in the place they were born. Such devotion to their homeland sends a pang of guilt through her heart, and reminds her of where she can never return to…

Yet those melancholy thoughts are quickly swept away by 9S’ enthusiasm. He gleefully leads her through the maze of streets and buildings, plazas and squares, pointing out the unique history of each statue or piece of architecture. While his wealth of knowledge is staggering, 2B finds herself more interested in feeling the different wind currents shift and waver, and imagining how to successfully fly on such currents. Even though she isn’t exactly listening to him, 9S’ cheerful chattering does make her feel more at ease in this foreign and claustrophobic environment.

Even the local fauna seem to have fled, aside from the street cats that peek out from their hiding places to watch 9S. One skinny orange cat even follows them for a few blocks, its tail held high the entire time. A low growl from 2B sends it scurrying away.

“Aw...that one was cute,” 9S pouts.

2B huffs, “Don’t like cats.”

“How come?” he asks, pacing a bit in front of her.

“Back in my homeland, we had to always be on guard for shadowcats. They make your...what are they called,” she mutters, “Lions? Yes, lions. They make lions look like harmless kittens.”

“Okay...that’s terrifying,” 9S muses and falling back in step besides 2B.

“Quite. They are far too silent for something as large as they are.”

9S shudders at the image his mind conjures of predators the size of the buildings that surround them, lurking just out of sight. Desperate to change the subject, he grabs hold of 2B’s hand and pulls her forward with a nervous grin plastered on his face.

“Come on, let’s find something to eat! There’s bound to be someone still running a stand or two around here. What are you in the mood for?”

The existence of a choice catches her off guard, “Hm…”

“We could see if there’s someone making sweetbreads! Or something hearty and warm, like soup or meat pies!” his eyes light up at the thought of these foods, but suddenly his face falls, “Oh...wait I don’t have a whole lot of money right now…”

The last thing 2B wants is to quash his enthusiasm, but she doubts that anyone with something to live for would be anywhere near this town. In fact the only humans she’s seen in the city besides those affiliated with White’s army were a small group of vagrants idlying by a run down pier. They huddle around a small fire surrounded by shields, which protect it from the salty wind blowing off of the water.

She stops suddenly as an idea comes to her.

“Hm? What’s wrong, 2B?”

“Why not go to the harbor?” she asks, pointing towards the pier, “It is free food, after all.”

While she does have a point 9S can’t help but remember the state he found her the first time they met. Floundering around like a crippled seagull, barely able to keep her head above water. Looking back on it now, he'd consider it funny if it wasn’t a threat to her life, and even then it was still pretty funny. Still, he would rather not have to dive into the murky, possibly demon infested waters of the harbor to rescue her once again.

“Alright,” 9S says, “But only if you let me teach you how us weak humans fish. You know, without almost drowning.”

“Hmph.” 2B crosses her arms over her chest and scowls at him, “The techniques of my people have been honed for millenia. Do not insult the proud dragon species.”

He holds back a laugh, “Only if you promise not to make me jump in the water after you.”

A low growl is the only response he gets, which only serves to make him smile more. She really is cute when she’s flustered.

2B doesn’t agree to his proposal out right, but she does follow behind him while he looks through the abandoned merchant stalls for loose equipment. Most if not all of the stands are void of anything useful, whether it was packed up when the owner left or picked clean by vagrants was impossible to tell, but there were a handful that still contained hidden treasures.

9S wasn’t about to expect to find a full fishing set and box of tackle, but he did find a worn rod and a spool of wire. In another he found an old box of hardtack and cheese. Not as ideal a bait as worms or insects, but it would do in a pinch. 2B just stares, bewildered by the seemingly random tools he collects, but makes no comment. She only watches him with those bright, curious eyes. He can’t help but smile at her.

“Come on, let’s go find a good spot,” he says, nodding his head towards the bay, “Or-...Hey can you pick out where there’s the most fish?”

With a nod, 2B wanders over to the edge of the dock and peers into the water. She stands there, unmoving and silent aside from the occasional turn of her head. Sometimes she prowls across the edge, stalking some unseen movement. Unable to contain his curiosity, 9S leans over, dangerously close to the water, to get a look at her face and what she’s looking at. Her eyes, wide and darkend, dart across the surface. It’s mesmerizing to watch her, so mesmerizing that when she suddenly turns to speak to him, he nearly jumps out of his skin and loses his balance.

“This spot seems to be a spawning ground,” 2B says, fixing her hair, “There are plentiful fish here.”

“R-..right. Okay,” he inwardly curses how easy it is to get him to blush, as he can already feel his face heating up, “Here, lemme show you how to bait the line.”

Careful not to stab his fingers, 9S hooks a piece of cheese onto the end of the line, “You want the barb at the end to be poking through enough so that it hooks into the fish’s mouth when it tries to get the bait, but not so much that it can just take it without hooking themselves.”

2B’s brow furrows as he casts the line into the harbor and sits on the edge, his feet dangling above the water, “Now what?”

“Now we wait for a fish to bite. Once you feel the line start to tug and pull away, you reel it in. That’s really all there is to it.”

“Seems...Boring,” she says, yet sits beside him anyway.

“That depends on how hungry the fish are,” he answers, “If they are, we should have a bite within-...!”

As if on cue, the rod dips into the water, then whatever is on the other end nearly rips it from 9S’ hands. With a quick yelp, he grabs hold of the fishing rod and yanks backward with all of his might. Something small breaks the surface of the water and with practiced movements, 9S reels in a fish about the size of his hand.

“See? Easy!” He holds up the wriggling fish to 2B with a bright smile, “You wanna give it a shot?”

2B eyes the fish, “...What are you going to do with that?”

“Oh, usually I toss them back. Why?” he asks, working the hook out of the fish’s mouth.

The moment the fish is free, 2B snatches it away with a lightning quick swipe of her clawed hand.

“I’m hungry,” she says and bites the head clean off of its body.

“Urgh…,” 9S fights back the nauseous churning of his gut, “Fine, but if you want to eat more you have to catch your own.”

She swallows the still-thrashing tail in one gulp, “...Okay, deal.”

9S hands her the rod and some bait then takes a step back. Just in case. She fumbles with the hook and ends up stabbing her fingers more than once before the bit of bread is through the barb. It’s worth the sideways glares he gets from her to laugh at her stubbornness.

“Need any help?” he teases.

She lets out a growl before tossing the line into the harbor and kneeling down next to him, “Quiet.”

Watching 2B fish is far from the relaxing and meditative activity 9S expects it to be. It’s more akin to watching a hawk stalk its prey from its perch. Each movement of the fish swimming just out of his sight, each ripple of the water is something 2B can decipher and track with precision he could only dream of. Her shoulders tense each time the line moves, whether by the currents or by a curious fish. She looks so poised he’s half worried that she might leap into the water at any given moment.

A few of the civilians who chose to stay in the city wander over to watch this strange woman in strange robes fish in her bizarre manner. 2B doesn’t seem to notice, as her concentration is locked solely on the water and what lies beneath.

“Try moving the rod a little. Fish tend to like things that move like prey,” he whispers directly in her ear so as not to disturb her too much.

The very tip of the rod dips once, twice, then in a flash of movement too fast for 9S to even see 2B leaps back and rips a large trout out of the water with a magnificent splash. The civilians cheer as the fish struggles against the rod and 2B’s strength, floundering on the ground pathetically. She grins at her catch, flashing the pointed teeth of a predator. 9S can’t help but feel...something...as she bites into its flesh and severs its spine clean in half. Not fear, at least not entirely fear. Awe perhaps? Whatever the feeling is, it certainly makes his stomach do strange flips and his heart beat just a bit faster.

The civilians disperse quickly amidst worried murmuring and fearful stares. Some part of 9S feels as though he should be offended, but then again, as he glances at 2B eating a live fish nearly whole he can see why strangers would flee from her. After all, he almost did.

But he knows she is not some monster, despite her outward appearance and current actions. She is kind, gentle, and strong beyond compare. She is a peerless warrior, and someone he considers to be a dear friend. He…

“I…” 2B’s voice jolts 9S out of his thoughts, “I would offer to share, but…” she looks down at the remains of the trout in her hands, “Well, you said before humans can’t eat raw meats.”

“Well, not often. But I hear there are some places that think it’s a delicacy.”

Her eyes widen a bit and she tilts her head to the side in the way that makes 9S’ heart skip, “Really?”

“Mhm,” he says as he takes the fishing rod and casts it into the harbor, “Even just on our continent, there’s a lot of kinds of food specific to one area. Like on the border of the Theocracy and the Great Bog they make this special kind of sweet bread with honey that supposedly tastes like angel tears.”

“I’m not sure I see the point in all this...variation.” 2B admits after tossing the scraps of inedible fish back into the water.

9S gives her a quizzical look, “Do Coatlys not have different ways of preparing meals? Like different mixes of spices?”

“Preparing food seems to be a…human practice. We simply hunt prey or gather plants from the forest, clean, dress, and give thanks. That’s it.”

He chuckles, “I guess you must think all the effort humans put into cooking pretty silly, huh?”

“Hardly,” 2B says, shaking her head, “It’s....interesting. I’d like for you to cook for me sometime, should the occasion arise.”

9S’ face lights up like the sun, “Really?! I know tons of recipes from all over! Maybe once we’re done here, I’ll be able to go on leave for a bit, then we can try all kinds of new foods together!”

2B folds her hands into her pockets and fumbles with something unseen by 9S, “I’d like that, I think.”

Though the conversation ends, 9S finds himself enjoying their silence. More often than not he feels a bit awkward if there’s little to no banter, but this is...comfortable. He doesn’t feel the need to speak to 2B for her to know he’s enjoying her company. And the soft smile on her lips lets him know that she feels the same.

They fish together in silence, passing the rod back and forth every so often, 2B eating whatever fish looks the tastiest to her, until the sun begins to set.

“It’s gonna be dark soon, we should start heading-...” 9S begins, but as he stands up he cuts himself short, “Oh! I just remembered something!”

“Hm?” 2B hums, standing up with him.

“While I was helping the refugees earlier, I happened upon a traveling merchant who was selling something I’ve never tried before. Want to come with me?”

2B barely has the chance to nod before he grabs her hand and starts pulling her along. They jog together through the empty streets, and though she is more than capable of keeping pace beside him, 9S does not let go of her hand.

She thinks she doesn’t want him to.

It isn’t long before the sprawling complex of tents comes into view, just past the unkempt walls of Vigo. Many civilians are settling in for the night, but many more are huddled around small fires chatting with one another. The air is tense, apprehensive, but not as much as when they first arrived. 2B wrinkles her nose at the sharp scent of alcohol that hangs around certain groups, but 9S seems too focused on his destination to notice.

“Oh, good!” he says and points towards a man in holy vestments casting a blue hued spell, “He’s still here!”

A strange scent hangs in the air around this holy man. Sweet and fruity, it reminds 2B of a tree bearing bountiful fruits, but the chill in the air makes her scales itch. She watches as the holy man stir several large pots of what looks like cream while casting that chilling magic and pouring a bowl of fruit paste into the mixtures.

“Ah, the young soldier from earlier!” the holy man greets 9S as they approach, “And who is this? Another soldier?”

“Hello again!” 9S replies and waves, “No, this is my friend 2B. I convinced her to try your...cold cream?”

“Iced cream,” he says with a chuckle.

“Iced cream. I convinced her to try some with me.”

2B doesn’t speak, but nods and eyes the priest warrily.

“No need to be so wary, young one. This treat is a favorite among even the folks of the northern Theocracy,” the holy man smiles warmly at her, “Now, what flavor would you two like?”

“Flavor?” 9S blinks for a moment, “Is that what that fruit was for?”

“Exactly, my boy. I have strawberries, caramel, elderberries, cherries, dragonfruit-...”

“Cherry!” 9S yelps, then immediately shrinks down sheepishly, “Er, cherry please.”

“Of course. And for you, miss?”

2B looks back and forth between the priest and 9S, eyes wide with confusion, “Um...I don’t know. These are all new to-”

“Caramel for her. Can you put a bit of salt in it as well? She’s not a fan of too sweet food,” 9S says, stepping in front of her a bit.

A short huff comes from 2B, but her irritation is quelled by 9S simply placing his hand on hers. She makes a mental note to snap at him later for speaking for her.

“Of course of course. It will be just a moment, now.”

9S places some gold coins into a little pan of collections sitting just in front of the priest and steps back to watch his process. With one hand he stirs the thickening mixture of milk, sugar, and respective flavorings, and with another he sprinkles in a bit of salt. He casts a basic ice spell at the base of the jug till the cream becomes so thick that he must use both hands to stir. Once satisfied with the product, the holy man uses the stirring spoon to fill two simple ceramic bowls with the different flavors requested.

“There you go, enjoy you two!”

“Thank you very much,” 9S says, taking the bowls from the priest and handing 2B hers, “Come on, let’s eat on the way back.”

2B stares at the bowl as she follows after him. The cold of this frozen cream bites into the thin scales of her hands, and the scent it gives off is unlike anything she had smelled before. It’s not entirely unpleasant, just strange to her. She dares to lick it, if only a bit, and gasps loud enough to startle 9S.

“You okay? Too cold?” he asks.

She shakes her head, “No...It’s-...” her brow furrows, “I don’t understand.”

“Huh? What don’t you get?”

“How does this golden sugar taste different from the white sugar?”

9S can’t help but laugh, “It’s caramel. Boiling the sugar with water and then letting it cool changes the way it tastes.”

“How? What kind of spell is that?”

“It’s not a spell,” he swallows a small mouthful of his reddish ice cream, “Just chemistry. Though in a way, it is kind of like magic.”

“Strange…” 2B mutters, and licks at the ice cream some more.

“Indeed,” 9S says with a small giggle, “Oh, hey 32S told me about a side entrance that puts us closer to the barracks than going through the main gate. It takes us through the woods for a bit but with the two of us we should be okay.”

“Why were you worried in the first place?”

“Well there’s wolves, bears, and demons of course.” he grumbles, “Remember, I’m not as strong as you.”

“Yes, but I’m the most dangerous thing here. Aside from whatever’s in the water.”

“Oh hush, and just follow me.”

True to his word, 9S leads her through the thick forest that sprawls along the eastern side of Vigo’s walls. A small, untended road winds through the trees but patches of vegetation grow over segments of the glorified dirt path. Without a sign of human activity along with the fading light, 9S feels safe enough near 2B to deactivate his concealing spell. He taps the jewel in his pendant twice and the air around him shimmers briefly. Little stubby horns emerge from his forehead and a thin barbed tail whips sways back and forth with his stride. He feels 2B’s eyes on him, but when he turns to meet her gaze there’s no fear or malice in her eyes. He...isn’t sure what emotion he sees in her dark eyes but it makes his chest feel warm.

9S smiles and holds up his bowl of ice cream, “Hey, 2B. Check out what I can do.”

2B tilts her head. She isn’t sure what to expect from him anymore. He’s surprised her at nearly every turn. She prepares for him to toss the bowl in the air, or spin it on the tip of his tail.

No amount of preparation could save her from the shock of watching a long, pointed tongue unfurl from his mouth and lap up the frozen treat.

Her whole body simultaneously feels frozen, and unbearably hot at the same time. Either he has no idea what he’s doing to her, or he knows very, very well. His tongue coils around the ice cream like a serpent, bending and twisting and writhing in ways that make 2B’s mind conjure all manner of sinful acts.

Resolve shattered and stone burning in her pocket, she can’t fight the words that rise in her throat like acid.

“I want that inside me.”

9S stops. Everything stops. He’s fairly certain his heart stops beating too.

Did she...say…

Heat and pressure coil in his gut and suddenly his pants feel very tight. Panic and shame mix together in a horrid slurry, tearing at his insides with such fervor that he almost doubles over. He has to get out of here. He has to find a way out right now...

“I…” 9S stammers, “I have to go take care of something.”

Chapter 13: A Minor Distraction This chapter is Rated E

2B comes to the conclusion that humans are stupid.

Well, not stupid. 9S is far too intelligent for her to consider truly stupid. Rather, he seems so bound by human expectations and conventions that he acts as if he is stupid. 2B knows full well what he’s run off to “take care of”. Anyone with a functioning mind could figure that out. What she can’t figure out is why.

They are both attracted to each other in a sexual manner, why draw out this period of tension? Why not simply get it over with? He can’t enjoy this, can he?

She leans against a tree, mulling over her own frustrations. Yes, perhaps she was a bit too blunt with him and yes perhaps she forgot to present him with the stone, but if his current behavior is anything to go by it would have lead to the same conclusion.

Something 6O told her years ago comes back into her mind, something about how humans had strange rituals and societal limitations around sexual relations. The details escape her, but even the vague idea is enough to cause her frustration. Sure her own culture has its own behavior and conventions but those existed for mated pairs, not for casual sexual encounters.

She lets out a huff and smooths back her ruffled hair. It’s foolish of her to get so worked up over this. It should have been obvious to her from the start. 9S has demonic blood in him, and incubus blood at that.

A pang of guilt hits her like an arrowhead. Yes, his incubus heritage has...unfortunate connotations to it if she remembers correctly. 6O told her stories of human women visited in the dead of night by unnaturally beautiful men, only to give birth to a monster nine months later. Of course he would feel ashamed of any sort of sexual desire. Perhaps he feared losing control of himself and hurting her in some way, not that he could.

Still, agitation crept through 2B’s gut, mingling with guilt into a nauseating slurry. A part of her wants to track 9S down and just have her way with him, a very large part. At least she still has enough sense about her to keep those kinds of thoughts down. Now if only there was something she could do about the heat coiling in her gut. She needs to distract herself, it seems like a decent idea to give 9S some space at the moment. He doesn’t need to be more overwhelmed than he already is.

The little blue stone burns in her pocket. Maybe if she had explained herself thoroughly and gone through with her original plan, things would have played out differently. Or at least 9S wouldn’t be terrified of her… She hopes she hasn’t ruined her relationship with him because of her own desires.

Ugh...she needs to clear her head.

2B stretches out her arms, takes a deep breath, prepares to transform and take to the skies. 9S can defile whatever foliage he decides to. She has much cleaner means of relieving tension like this. However, a strange scent piques her interest just enough to keep her grounded for a moment, and a moment is all it takes.

It hits her full force, hard enough to throw her off balance. She reaches out to a tree to steady herself as her whole world spins. Every thought in her head leaves her, only to be replaced by carnal thoughts.

Of course. Of course someone with his heritage would have such powerful pheromones.

Uneven breaths make her chest heave. She can’t think of anything else, not unless she focuses all of her energy on simple concentration. Her face feels hot, no...her whole body feels hot. Especially the coiling pressure in her lower abdomen. It isn’t a new feeling, but it’s the first time she’s felt it this strong and outside the safety of the Elder’s Sanctum.

It’s the first time she can act on it…

Just the thought makes her mouth go dry. She could easily overpower him, make him submit to her and-...

No. Her willpower is stronger than these base urges. She wouldn’t forgive herself if she ever brought harm to 9S. She brings her sleeve to her face which mitigates some of the smell. If she can calm herself she can get through this through sheer will alone. This is nothing compared to the days confined to the Elder’s with the other unmarried women in heat. All of those hungry women in one home… It still makes her shudder to think about sometimes. Those meditation drills were nightmarish, though useful in this situation.

Don’t focus on the tightness in the stomach. Don’t think about the twitching of the muscles. Pay no mind to the dryness of the throat, or how the mind swims with carnal intentions. Focus on the self and the connection to the living world. Each breath, each beat of the heart is deliberate and strong. Do not waver to the will of the base self; command the body as if it were a warrior.

Slowly her body begins to calm and her mind clears. A brief sense of pride fills her as she inwardly praises herself and Coatyl practices. Perhaps all that isolative training wasn’t for nothing, even after leaving her people.

That all comes crashing down once she hears the sounds.

Rapid, heavy breathing, the faint echoes of flesh against flesh. Hell, she could almost hear his heart beating.

In the back of 2B’s mind, it’s funny to her how easily her resolve shatters. All it took was some lewd sounds and she’s storming through the forest. It’s not like she’s going to hurt him or scold him. She just wants to talk, if anything to tell him he’s being stupid. They were both adults, surely they could have a conversation about this sort of thing. Though...perhaps humans didn’t have the level of education on sex and sexuality that she and her kind received.

As she trudged through the forest it became clear that 9S would be in massive danger if there were any large predators lurking nearby. Anything on the hunt for easy prey would be drawn to the scent and sounds of the distracted half-breed. He probably doesn’t hear her footsteps or the shuffling of plant life around her. What an idiot. If she were someone else, she could have easily killed him.

Following 9S’ scent and sounds is an easy task for 2B. She’s used to prey being silent and unseen aside from flickering shadows and the rustle of leaves. With all the noise he makes he might as well have laid a stonework path for her directly to him. Even so, the closer she gets, the harder it becomes for her to think of anything beyond tearing the clothes from his body and-

The sight of a shock of white hair in the brush, rocking back and forth against a tree halts her line of thought. As she approaches, more and more of the lewd scene is revealed to her. With one arm propping himself up against the tree, 9S’ other hand is obscured by his body. His arm shudders, moving in time with the rest of his body, his hips bucking into his hand every so often. A desperate growl reaches 2B’s ears and stirs something inside her. It’s similar to the feeling she gets when about to strike an unsuspecting fish, something primal and predatory. It makes her stomach churn with disgust.

She moves closer, drawn in by his overpowering scent once again. A part of her hopes that he’ll become aware of her, that he’ll turn around and reprimand her for sneaking up on him, but he remains trapped in his hedonistic fantasies. His head tilts to the side slightly and for a moment 2B thinks he’s heard her, only for him to roll his neck and dip his head back against the trunk of the tree.

Frustration over different kinds boils over. She can’t stand by any longer. She must act, and put an end to this stupidity.

“Enough of this,” 2B commands and takes a step forward. Her voice is strong, echoing off the surrounding trees.

9S whips around, his face crimson red, “T- 2B?! What are you- !!”

He scrambles to cover himself with his discarded coat as 2B strides forward. Only a yard or so and a few shrubs separate them now. 2B can feel her mind hazing over once again.

“The way you acting. The hiding, the shame. It’s ridiculous.”

“I’m- 2B you-...,” he stammers and stumbles over his words.

2B can almost hear the blood surging through his body. It makes her mouth dry. She licks her lips before taking another step closer, “Are you afraid?”

“I…”

He looks like a prey animal, eyes wide and fearful, hands grasping at anything they can hold on to. 2B feels something tighten in her chest.

“Why bother to hide yourself. It’s no secret what you were doing.”

She reaches out to him, to the hand that holds his coat over his legs. As she takes his wrist in her hand she can feel the shivers wracking his whole body, and for a moment she thinks she may have made a mistake.

Suddenly, 9S’ body goes stiff with panic, “W- STOP!” he shouts and rips his arm away from 2B. He cowers against the tree, his fingers digging into the bark as if it would tether him to the earth.

2B finds herself without words, shocked by his sudden outburst.

“You can’t just...just do that! You don’t barge in on someone when-...” 9S’ face flushes a deep red as he shouts at her. His brow furrows and he even bares his teeth at her for a split second.

She bristles at his displays of aggression, but she can’t help but think, somewhere in the back of her mind, that he’s cute.

“I’m sorry,” she says dipping her head slightly yet grinding her fangs together.

“Well-...” he can’t hide his surprise but manages to maintain his outward anger, “Good.”

“I…” though the scents still cloud her mind, her better judgement resurfaces along with just a touch of shame, “I’m still learning these human customs. Your aversion to sexuality seemed useless to me. I thought...I thought if we could...fix this problem...you might be better off.”

“Fix...Did you mean-”

“I’ll leave you to your business, then.”

Before 9S can protest, she turns on her heels and steps over the small bushes that surround the tree he leans on.

“Wait! 2B hold on!” he yells and grabs at her arm.

His strength startles 2B, who stumbles backward.

“I...2B, listen…,” he says, bowing his head, “This...kind of thing with me...It’s complicated.”

“How?”

9S sighs, “It’s hard to explain. Since I don’t have...control...over certain abilities, I’m never sure. I don’t know if this is something I’m...making you feel, or if you're...if this is real.”

“I don’t understand.” 2B thought she made her intentions clear enough. Was there something she was missing? Some human courting ritual she never learned about?

“It’s got to do with...how I am,” he groans, “My incubus blood.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.”

“Are you aware of what that means?” He huffs, “What can I do?”

2B shakes her head, “What, does it make you dangerous?” She finds it hard to believe that someone as non threatening as he is could be a threat to her.

“Not in the way you’re thinking of. It’s...I can make people...feel things. I guess you could say I can influence their minds, but I can’t...control it very well,” his head dips low, “There have been times before where people...have gotten too close and…”

There’s worrying hesitation in his voice. He curls into himself slightly before looking up at 2B with tired eyes.

“They weren't in their right mind when...when things almost went too far. I don’t want that to happen with you.”

Ah, now she understands.

“I am aware of what I am doing,” she says, her shoulders squared proudly, “And I am aware of what I want. But…” she sighs, “If you wish to be left alone, I will leave.”

9S bites his lip and in that moment of deliberation 2B feels her gut twist in a way she had never felt before. Could she be...afraid of rejection? No, that’s silly. It must be the arousal.

“You sure?” 9S asks in a meek voice 2B nearly misses, “What you want...it’s not something I’m...making you feel?”

“Yes,” she lies.

A heavy silence passes between them. 9S stares at her, piercing near-white eyes searching hers for something she can’t place. 2B waits for him to move. She thinks it’s best to allow him to lead, at least to start. He still seems frightened by her, so she will hold herself back. How long that lasts, though, she isn’t sure.

9S reaches out to her, cupping her cheek with his free hand. His thumbs idly traces the patterns of her scales as he studies her face intently. She feels his breath, heavy against her face, just before he leans in and presses his lips against hers.

It’s a surprisingly chaste kiss at first, both of them testing the waters so to speak. He applies a little pressure which 2B matches. He savors the closeness, weaving his fingers through her hair. A low rumble echoes in her chest, almost like a purr.

“Your hair is so soft…” 9S mumbles against her lips.

Frustration with his slow progression draws another low growl from 2B. She presses her body against his, feeling his heartbeat speed up and something twitch against her thigh. He bumps against the tree he hid behind, his breath hitching slightly with tangible panic. Not wanting to scare him 2B backs off of him a bit and allows him to pull away from the tree. She draws 9S back into her by forcing his lips to part and biting gently on his lower lip.

9S shudders at the sudden addition of teeth, a tiny sound escaping him like the mewl of a kitten. It only fuels 2B’s own building desires. She cups his cheeks in her hands, her thumbs rolling over his jawline, chin, and halting over his throat. The lump in his throat bobs with each trembling breath, his blood surges through his veins. Something in the back of her mind wants it...needs it, to open. 2B presses her thumb against one large vein in his neck and wonders how the blood that pulses through it would taste.

Her wish is granted not moments later, as her sharp teeth pierce the thin skin of his lower lip. 9S whimpers a bit but a quick swipe of her tongue soothes the pain quickly. Unfortunately, the moment his blood hits her tongue it sets off a terrifying reaction within her. She rips herself away from him and stares down at a very bewildered 9S.

“2B? What- !!”

With a fierce snarl, 2B slams him back against the tree so forcefully that for a moment his vision blurs. Her mouth is on his mere seconds later, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth. His pathetic mewls and body squirming against her own urges her to show more of her strength, to make him completely and utterly helpless, unable to put up any kind of fight. She wants total submission, and something tells her 9S will be more than happy to give it to her.

9S’ hands grab onto whatever part of her they can reach; one tugs at her hair, the other fumbling with her cloak and undershirt. Meanwhile her hands tear away his shirt with such frantic motions that her claws tear into his flesh. She breaks their kiss to scrape her teeth against his neck, revealing at the feeling of his blood thundering through his veins. It nearly drives her mad. His tail thrashes like an excited cat’s in response.

Once 9S recovers enough to retaliate, he worms his hands up 2B’s shirt. She shudders at his feather light touches as he traces the outlines of her muscles and scales. His touches are so reverent, a stark comparison to the way she manhandles him. Her hands twitch, aching to rip and tear him apart. She rakes her claws down his chest and begins to tug on the hem of his pants impatiently. Dimly she registers a wetness that coats the tip of her fingers but she pays it no mind, in fact it makes them tingle, as if they want more.

His hips rut against hers, desperately seeking relief, and 2B responds to it by crushing his body against the tree with her own. One hand dives beneath the hem of his smallclothes, gripping at his pronounced hip bones and teasing just above the base of his cock. The other hand pins his head back against the tree trunk, her claws digging into his scalp, marking him further.

“M-...ooore...please…” he begs.

Relenting to his touch, 2B shuffles out of her robes, leaving only her unbuttoned shirt, pants, and boots still on. 9S’ hands immediately move to her breasts and begin massaging them.

“Wh-...” 9S mumbles as he stares down at 2B’s body.

Her chest resembles a grown woman’s, but the hard scales remind him of her inhuman nature. With a curious glint in her eyes, 2B touches his chest, her clawed fingers lingering on a nipple. 9S’ breath hitches in his chest, betraying his sensitivity, so 2B ghosts the tip of her finger over it again. She remembers something 6O told her relating to these organs that female coatyls replicate in their human forms. Something to do with feeding their young. It isn’t important to getting what she wants from 9S, so she quickly abandons that train of thought.

“Down,” 2B commands, forcing 9S to sit in the dirt beneath her. Like an obedient pet he sits there, looking up at her with an expectant and exhausted look. Smears of blood cover his face and chest, but he doesn’t appear bothered by it at all. He doesn’t even look in pain. In fact, he looks just as hungry as she does.

Unable and unwilling to draw this out any further, 2B kicks off her boots and unceremoniously removes both her pants and 9S’ smallclothes. His cock twitches lewdly in the sudden cool air of the fast approaching night, and 2B feels her stomach tighten at the sight. In a show of courage that throws her off guard, 9S wraps his arms around her waist and presses soft kisses and vicious bites to her hips. Similar to her mimic breasts, the scales between her legs are thick, almost leathery to the touch. Even with his two pointed fangs, 9S’ bites barely pierce her skin, yet she lets out a low groan of approval and holds on to the nub-like horns that jut from his forehead.

Answering her demand from earlier in the day, the offhand comment that lead to this, 9S lets his unnaturally long tongue slide across her hips and dips between her legs. She instinctively parts her legs for him and tugs his head closer, urging him onward. Like an eager kitten he laps at her folds and occasionally slides his tongue inside her, just a bit. The sudden contact makes 2B dig her claws into the side of 9S’ head, staining his white hair with streaks of crimson. Though his motions are sloppy and frantic, 2B pulls his face closer and lifts one leg up to rest on his shoulder. Each time 9S hits a particularly sensitive spot with the tip of his tongue, the claws on her toes slice open his skin. Each spasm of muscle brings her leg down his shoulder, drawing more blood along the way. At one point her balance falters, and she accidentally drags her claws down his shoulder and chest, leaving deep gashes in their wake. To regain her balance she pushes forward on his chest, forcing him back against the tree and crushing her claws deeper into his chest. He bites his bloody lip to keep back a particularly loud moan.

9S looks up at her with dark, lustful eyes that mirror 2B’s. His mouth hangs open, breaths heavy on his lips as he begs wordlessly for her touch. She hastily kneels down, straddling his hips and positioning herself just over his aching cock. His bravery returns again, this time in the form of him bucking up to her. The tip of his cock just barely touches her wet folds, but the brief taste alone isn’t nearly enough for 2B. She slams his head back against the tree, pinning him to the bark, and slams herself down onto him.

They both cry out in surprise and pain. 9S writhes beneath her, his hands scrambling for any sort of purchase on her muscular body. His tail flicks wildly back and forth before winding around her waist.

“I don’t think…,” he wheezes, his voice hoarse and raspy, “You’re supposed to go that...fast.”

“Have you done this before?” 2B asks with a hint of a growl in her throat.

“N...No,” he admits. If he weren’t streaked with blood he might have been blushing, “Have you?”

“Not with a man.”

9S pushes himself up into her, using his hands as leverage. Taking the hint, 2B places her hands underneath his rear and holds him up. For a moment she takes notice of the heavy scarring near the base of his tail and wonders how those scars could have come to be.

They let instinct take over, which seems to counteract the awkward angle of their bodies. 2B grinds down onto his cock while 9S tries to thrust up into her despite being held in her iron grip. He finally moves in earnest when 2B’s hands grip onto his shoulders. Occasionally her claws rake down his back, causing him to cry out and arch his back into her nails. Each time his cock hits the same sensitive areas his tongue did mere minutes ago, she muffles her own cries by sinking her predatory teeth into his neck. Of course, he bites at her chest and shoulders as well, but her scales protect her from the little damage he can do.

“T-...I’m-!!”

Whatever 9S was going to say is cut off by a sharp whimper. He quickly buries his face in her breasts and clings to her, his hips bucking wildly and tail tightening its grip around her waist. Feeling the same tension and heat that she assumes 9S must be feeling, 2B draws one hand down between their bodies and hastens her own orgasm by furiously rubbing at the sensitive (and frankly neglected) nub. Just as she does, she feels 9S’ cock twitch inside her once, twice, and with a drawn out moan he comes. His entire body spasms in her grip and soon loses the tension that had built up within, but she isn’t done with him yet.

She slams him down into the dirt and pins him against the tree, the back of his head smacking into the bark. Her teeth sink into his neck again, marking him as hers over and over. The hand that isn’t between her legs digs into whatever flesh it can grab and marks him there as well. 2B rides his fast softening cock with the same ferocity as she would display in a fight to the death, and when the waves of pleasure finally wash over her, she clamps her teeth around the spot where his neck and chest meet. They will all know he is hers, that she is strong and has made him hers. She hisses as those waves disperse far too quickly, even though her muscles still spasm.

As the lustful haze disperses from her mind, 2B slowly rises from the ground. Even still, a wave of dizziness threatens to topple her. It’s only through willpower that she manages to remain standing.

With a deep and contented sigh, she turns to the rising moon and stars beginning to show themselves for the night, “We should hurry back. Don’t want you to get into trouble…”

As she looks down at 9S while hastily dressing herself, her eyes widen at the sight beneath her. It’s as if he had been attacked by some animal. Hideous jagged wounds cover his body, seeping blood onto the clothes he struggles to put on. His eyes are heavy, as is his breathing, and he looks far paler than normal. He looks up at her with glassy eyes and offers a smile of all things.

“Heh...Yeah…Don’t want-...” he groans as he pulls on his pants, covering the blooming purple bruises on his thighs and hips, “Jackass to...yell…”

The quivering waver in his voice sets 2B on edge. Something is wrong with him, he sounds weak. Too weak. As she reaches her hand out to help him stand, she recoils at the sight of her own blood stained fingers. In fact, nearly the entirety of her arms and even up to her chest is caked in fast drying blood.

Oh gods...what has she done?

9S rises to his feet, takes two shaky steps forward, and collapses onto the ground in a bloody heap.

“Tw...I don’t...feel good….” he wheezes.

2B believes herself to be unflinching in the face of any trail. It was what was instilled in her through years of rigorous training and studies. But the sight of 9S, crumpled and broken by her hands sends her into a panic. Her thoughts come and go faster than she can handle, all of her field aid knowledge seems to slip from her mind the instant she begins to wrap her robe around his body. It’s a crude way to protect his wounds from grievous infection, but it will do till she can get him to someone who knows what they’re doing.

And 2B knows just the person.

Luckily, most townsfolk are smart enough to stay inside at night, so 2B only ends up scaring the daylights out of the few guards and soldiers posted for the evening patrols. One of them calls out to her, but their cries fall on deaf ears, as she has only one focus at the moment.

As soon as 2B finds it, one solid kick to the infirmary door nearly breaks it off the hinges.

“6O!” she shouts, cradling 9S’ body close to her.

A chorus of grumbles from sleeping, bedridden soldiers answers her, followed by the sound of an annoyed druid storming up to her.

“What in the world do you need at this hour-...Is that Nines?!” 6O shouts, rushing over to his shivering body, “Good gods what happened to him?! To both of you?! You’re covered in blood!!”

“He-...I-...” 2B’s brain races to come up with some sort of explanation. She doesn’t want to get 9S into trouble, so she settles on the first lie that isn’t obviously stupid, “Bear. There was a bear.”

A strange look crosses 6O’s face for a moment, “...Okay. Follow me, quickly. Let’s get him down over here.”

2B follows 6O to a section of the infirmary closed off with a few curtains, possibly for more grievous injuries to be tended to. She sets 9S onto the small bed as instructed to by 6O, who immediately begins working. She removes the robe 2B wrapped him in, followed by his shirt and pants. Her hands alight with green energy as she prepares some healing spells to soothe his pain and help speed up recovery. 2B leans in close beside her, watching every movement 9S makes with hawk-like intensity.

“Is there anything I can do?” 2B asks.

“I need space right now,” 6O responds with a low, professional tone, “Go wait in my room, I’ll talk to you when he’s stable.”

“But-”

“Now, 2B. Go get yourself cleaned up.”

She’s known 6O long enough to know that when she speaks like that, there’s no arguing with her. Dutifully she exits the infirmary and silently makes her way to 6O’s quarters. A small washbasin sits near the druid’s bed, already filled. 2B cleans the blood from her hands and arms with a small rag that sits on the edge of the basin, then scrubs at her face. She lets her bloodstained clothes soak in the tub while she paces the room like a caged animal, waiting for 6O to return with news of 9S.

Each time she glances at the tub of murky red water, her stomach churns. It wasn’t supposed to be like this… She wasn’t supposed to hurt him. Yet she lost control of herself so easily…

Maybe she was a beast...just as they said…

2B isn’t sure how long it is before 6O returns to her, but it feels like days. She immediately rushes up to the Druid, who cleans her hands of blood on a wet rag.

“Is he okay?” 2B asks.

6O sighs and tosses the rag into the basin with 2B’s clothes, “He’s lost a lot of blood, and he’s dehydrated on top of that. But Nines is tough, despite his size. He should be back on his feet in a few days.”

2B let’s put a long sigh of relief, “Oh thank the gods…”

“However,” 6O shoots a piercing look at her, “Those wounds looked nothing like a bear attack.” She turns to 2B and crosses her arms over her chest, “Want to tell me what actually happened?”

“I…” 2B never noticed how intimidating those green eyes of hers could be. There’s no use lying to her now, but…”You won’t get him in trouble, will you?”

“2B…”

She huffs at 6O’s scolding mother-like tone, “We had a...little rendezvous in the woods outside the city.”

6O’s eyes nearly bulge out of her head, “You-...Those are from sex?!”

“...Yes.” 2B says, flinching away from her.

“Good gods, 2B! If I didn’t know better I would have thought he was maimed by a demon! He could have died!”

She stays silent, eyes cast down to the stone floor. In other circumstances, she might have snapped back at 6O, but she deserves every bit of this for what she’s done to 9S.

“2B.” 6O calls, “Did you hear me?”

“Huh?”

“I said,” she repeats, “Did he ask you to stop?”

“No…”

“Idiot boy.” She mutters under her breath.

“I...I lost control of myself. I don’t know what came over me…it was like I just...I had to be...like that with him…”

Immediately, 6O’s expression softens, “Oh, 2B…”

Her pity makes 2B’s stomach flip. It’s the last thing she wants from anyone at this point.

“Look,” 6O says, sitting on the edge of her bed and motioning for 2B to do the same, “Even though he’s a bit more resilient than other humans, he’s still just as...squishy.”

“I know that. It’s just...I thought I had better self control. I didn’t mean to hurt him…”

6O wraps her arms around her dejected friend’s shoulders, “Hey, I told you he’s gonna be okay. Besides, if I know that weirdo, he probably enjoyed all of...that a little too much.”

2B lets out a breathy chuckle, “Probably.”

She drifts into her thoughts while 6O continues talking. The Druid might have her faults, but she is an expert at calming 2B down when she gets lost in her own mistakes. Gods know where all this patience came from. She idly plays with the hem of her undershirt until-

“Oh shit, I forgot to give him the rock.”

#nier atuomata #nier fanfiction #fantasy au #Tanks fics #2B #9S #6O #21O #The Commander #2B9S

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fanesavin · 5 years

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Later in the day following the Quiver, further discussions are had.

@teddyaynesworth / @ianncardero / @mayaparker

Fane couldn’t say examining cadavers was a pastime that he saw himself participating in during his time in the Capitol, yet that was what his morning had consisted of. With Miguel’s assistance the body had been examined and a venom determined due to the distinctive markers that had become evident post-mortem. Not that it aided all too much in locating a culprit considering the origin of the snake was that of the High Raj’s homelands. Killed by something of his own origin. Poetic in some sense but a cruel way to pass. Following this, he’d ultimately been down to the prisons to watch the interrogation of Lady Lacroy’s assailant. His face was rather indistinguishable and he’d been hung from his arms for an extended period of time and the threat of worse had been enough for the truth to spill out of him. Fane wasn’t an overly cruel man, not above threatening the use of such devices but not sadistic enough to put them to use. The man was a simpering fool it transpired the plan one of his own design inspired by conversations he’d overheard in the Keep. House Kesley with their apparent designs and resolute stance against any and all agents of darkness. Fane grimaced as he recalled the house’s motto, For the People indeed. Things were… progressing he supposed.

There was one last thing to address. Explaining why he was back at his chambers, cleaning his hands of the grime from the dungeons waiting for his guards to bring Lady Parker to his attached viewing chamber. The very space she’d assured him that there were to be no more lies. Apparently another lie.

Maya had managed to to slip away in the chaos of the meeting’s end last night. She’d paced up and down her room, considering her options. In the morning, they’d be unlocking the gates, meaning she should be able to slip away and disappear into the night. She worried though that leaving would give the real murderer an all together too convenient scapegoat. No, this time she was going to have to stick it out. At least for a little while longer. In the morning, she did slip out though back into the city to get a read on how the common folk were reacting to the news. Unsurprisingly it was a mix with most everyone concerned about the prospect of war close again. She stopped to ask a blacksmith in the Lower City a few vague questions, hoping to find out more about how the crown’s mechanism might work. She couldn’t ask much though, not without revealing the rest of the truth. She returned to the castle before anyone could notice she was gone. Shortly after she returned she was hauled up to Lord Savin’s viewing chamber. “I can still walk,” she snapped as they dropped her off. She huffed before smoothing her skirts, tipping her chin up and walking into the room with the High Inquisitor.

Fane heard the knock before his men walked Maya into the room, and he took the time to make her strew while he dried his hands on a cloth set side the basin. Retrieving his signet ring and slipping it back on his finger he glanced at his appearance noting the sombre drawn features looking back at him. There was a touch of grey beginning to dust his beard, had that been there before? He couldn’t rightly say. Eight and thirty years and he was already beginning to look like his father before him. With everything apparently in order, he walked to the room where he’d made her wait a little while. “No, sir,is what I recall you saying to me yesterday when I asked if there was any further information I needed to be aware of,“ he stated as he shut the door behind him seeing no point beating about the bush.

Maya had expected Lord Savin to be in the room when she walked. He wasn’t. She checked her pocket to ensure that her stiletto was still there. It was better to be safe than sorry. She was forced to wait several minutes before Lord Savin appeared. Blood on his boots didn’t escape her study of him. "And no sir was the truth. My heritage wasn’t something you or anyone else here needed to be made aware of,” she said, dispensing with the usual courtesies.

Fane looked Maya up and down, the truth made a fair bit more sense of the way she behaved and acted. “No? Hm.” He couldn’t say he particularly agreed on that stance, “not even when that particular revelation rather undermined my authority and, rather effectively, I might add, left me looking the fool?”

“You’d have to take that up with the Red Priestess then,” Maya replied, “I had no intention of having my secrets and a tray of wine spilled everywhere last night. At any rate, it’s not relevant to the High Raj’s death or your investigation. I’d hardly spend nearly my entire life running from my title just to murder someone else for theirs now.”

Fane circled around to the front of his desk, leaning his weight to perch on the edge of it. “Perhaps not, but it isn’t hard to paint a picture with it.” Even if it wasn’t true, but that was what these people did, took your secrets and spun them into something so much more. “First you come and tell me that not only did you once work in the kitchens of a man that was poisoned, it now it becomes evident that you are heiress to a Kingdom? A fact you decided to keep to yourself that not only makes me look the fool for having you in my employ in such a fashion without knowing the truth, but equally gives you access to the castle swinging suspicion in your direction. How convenient that a long-lost heiress turns up right as a kingdom is going to ruin.” It wasn’t hard to spin a story, and Maya’s potential culpability innocent or no only weakened his already tenuous footing.

Maya shook her head. “I’m not an heiress. I have no interest in my parents’ crown or anyone else’s. Those things only ever get you killed or old before your time,” she said with a clear conviction. If she had wanted power, she would’ve gone back to Comeádai. Not a small percentage of the population wanted her there. “I apologize for the inconvenience of my birth and I understand if you need to dismiss me or imprison me until the real culprit is found. But if I did it all again, I would only hide the truth better.”

Fane had known Maya long enough to have some measure of her. But equally had he not also been wrong about her this whole time? It was a frustrating issue to face, “whether that’s true or not matters little, especially if someone is looking to shift their own cast of guilt.” Which was ultimately his point, neither of them were interested in power or the responsibility it brought about but equally were now put in the position that they had to deal with it. “Unfortunately, it would equally reflect badly to imprison you without much cause or reason presently… I do not believe you are responsible, but that doesn’t mean others might not consider the possibility. Neither can I let you leave until a culprit is found.” So what was he to do with her was the ultimate question.

Maya waited another moment after Lord Savin stopped speaking. “Then what do you intend to do with me?” she asked. Whether noble or servant at the moment she was still completely under his power, considering his temporary title. While she had no interest in a seat at the table, she might not have another choice. It wouldn’t be long until gossip spread through the castle and the servants no longer trusted her. She doubted though that any of the other nobles would have much interest in what she had to say either. Despite the title it placed upon her, the revelation of her true identity had left her rather powerless.

“That’s a good question,” and in all honesty he didn’t have an answer. Eventually he looked towards the window for a little while prior to his gaze returning to her, “help the investigation and maybe the council… If you don’t wish for a seat…” he pursed his lips, stroking his beard in thought “then act as one of my advisors. You’re smart and you have good instincts… that much I do know…” Might as well make use of them while they were in this situation.

Maya waited. She hated having her fate decided by someone else. The minute this was all over she would likely disappear again. After some time, Lord Savin asked her to be his advisor. She blinked once, surprised. It was not a small thing for him to continue to trust her or at least appear to. “I’ll be your advisor, sir,” she replied after she’d counseled her expression. “On that note, this morning, I spent some time down in the Upper City. Bron, if he’s to be believed the best blacksmith in any land, did the work to restore the crown. Although without the murderous part. His apprentice said that the Commander of the Golden Eagle dropped it off and picked it up.”

Fane wouldn’t go so far to say that he was putting his trust completely in her earlier points still to consider, but presently she wasn’t highest on his list of considerations. So the revelation of the next piece of information had Fane pausing, perhaps she would be useful after all. “So the mechanism was added after…” it wasn’t entirely new information but the crown went on tour almost immediately after it’s renovation… But if it was picked up and left by the Commander and considering the Golden Eagles had supposedly never let it leave their guard… He made a slightly frustrated noise, “then the question is where’s the window of opportunity? Unless the guards were bribed…”

Maya shook her head. “That I’m afraid I can’t answer. And any hope of my overhearing a drunk guard let something slip likely expired the minute gossip of my identity spread. Once it arrived in the Capitol though someone would’ve had to bribe at least six guards,” she said although she expected it was information Lord Savin already had. She paused before adding, “Or have convinced the Commander that the death of his lord was necessary.”

Fane had considered this already but it was the only answer at hand. “I don’t see any other way. I suppose we have a commander and some guards to investigate.”

Maya nodded, “I suppose you do, sir.” While he had yet to throw her out or in chains, she didn’t expect that he would want her present for any proper parts of the investigation.

Fane “Keep your eyes and ears open, see what else you can learn.” With that said he gave a nod of dismissal. He needed to speak to some of the others, to gain a measure of their view of the situation.

“It hardly seems prudent – or believable – that one single article of adornment could signify so much and create such havoc, does it?” Prelate Theodore appeared at Iann’s elbow, his grey habit switched out for a flat raven black coat of mourning. He inclined his dark head towards the throne and the bloodstained crown that sat upon it. “The well-laid and hard-earned plans of so many over so long, all brought to ashes in one terrible moment.”

The tall owl was back, after dealing with many matters concerning the commonfolk, and even his own clergy. Faith lost and hope found and all that, Iann supposed. The royals of the Forty Isles were not particularly religious, but the Cloverry was as good as any other religion, as far as Iann was concerned. Useful, convenient, accepted in Bluesprings. A good shorthand for being considered ‘good’ among the commonfolk and their ideals of belief. Iann stood in the Grand Hall, staring at the Sunlit Throne and the Guards surrounding it. The bloody crown placed back there as a symbol, now that the Inquisitor had completed his investigations on it. Even if he needed it again, it was not going to disappear within the Rajisthangard’s vigilance. “It’s an ugly crown, don’t you think?” Iann said, looking over at the other man. “Do you understand such things as beauty, Prelate? You see that metalwork - the craftsmanship is so very…Sharma. I understand that a High Raj always has a slight bias towards one’s House of course, but if only someone could’ve persuaded something with a bit more elegance and poetry. Not your persuasion, unfortunately. I suppose the Council that he was never able to announce was likely to be filled with grim birds like you.”

Prelate Theodore clasped his hands behind his back. “The very centermost tenet of faith is beauty, Your Highness. Otherwise most religions would have a dreadfully uphill task in appealing to the populace. Although conversely, some groups do appeal to an alternate but no less strong element when it comes to creating a reaction.” Theodore nodded at the Sunlit Throne. “Fear. Even if the crown had been wrought of Summerset ivorygold in the most intricate patterns of the Isles, it would still have performed the same slaughter, once devised.” The Prelate’s voice was gliding and genteely expressive, alighting on certain key words and making other, more dark suggestions as bland as possible. “It’s been my experience that a happy kingdom requires the efforts of grim birds such as myself.”

“Well said,” Iann said, stroking at his trimmed beard, then amended, “About the crown I mean, not the kingdom. I disagree with that, but then - I’ll soon be ascending my own Throne, soon.” If only his father died. He’d heard from the Mothers that the Cardero King was confined to his room now. Iann wanted to be pleased by it, but with the High Raj dead and the realm under an Inquisition, suddenly Iann found himself hoping that his father hung on for a little while more. “A clever device within it, I must say. As ugly as the crown is, its mode as a weapon is quite elegant. His death…was elegant.” Iann looked over at the Prelate. “Did you love him? As a High Raj. You can speak honestly to me, it makes no difference now that he’s dead. It wouldn’t be treason to say you did not, indeed, love him.”

“The tenor of rulership in the Forty Isles has always been of a sunnier nature than here in the mainland, true. But then, the war did not engulf you so wholly as it did the rest of us.” When it came to island nations, it could have gone either way; had the Cardero King allowed his Isles to be dependent on imports, they would have suffered far more than many mainlanders. As it was, the seafaring princes were able to procure whatever wasn’t produced on their own lands. Grimness perhaps did not carry to them the same shorthand for serious dedication that it did in the Cloverry and the Capital. “I’m afraid I haven’t much native sense when it comes to elegance,” the Prelate demurred, a claim put to lie by not only his clothing and bearing but his entire demeanour, “but still, I cannot bestow the word on the base slaughter of our High Raj. I did love him, yes.” Theodore’s eyes grew thin, a gimlet grey flash of intensity. “I loved what it was he represented. What he could have brought about. Does that surprise you, Prince? Were you hoping to catch the Cloverry out for hypocrisy or bloody-mined heartlessness?” Theodore almost sneered. “Or am I the one you’re trying to catch out?”

The imposed confinement of the city had made those within and without restless. The commoners either cowered in their homes, razed in the streets until the guards shut them down, or went about their lives as if their Raj had not just met the Light in a most violent manner. Though they only knew of a death. Not the manner. But now whispers arose all over the city. Whispers that floated here and there, of treachery and deceit. Of conspiracy and murder. She had adorned a dark set of robes in respect for the mandate of the city that the Raj be mourned, and found herself on the walkway with both the prince and the Prelate.

“I was curious on how the High Raj chose his Council. I suspect that all members of his Council were as loyal as you, then. I had no love for the Sharmas personally,” Iann proclaimed this loud and unafraid, but he wasn’t looking at the Prelate when he said it; he was staring right at the Rajisthangard, who did not make any eye contact in return. “But I did respect the Cloverry’s choice.” The Forty Isles was one of the kingdoms who had agreed that the Cloverry should make the decision for High Raj. “The Cloverry chose Avitej Sharma, and then Sharma chose to commission that crown for his coronation.” It was meant to be a crown that would rule for decades, but that was all gone now. A new High Raj needed to be chosen, and a new crown made. “And then that crown killed him. I wonder if the Inquisitor has the blacksmith hanging upside-down in the dungeons for this.”

“Don’t all crowns kill their wearers in the end, your grace?” the priestess asked quietly as she came up to the pair. “Though most usually last a fair bit longer than your dear Raj.”

Prelate Theodore described a short bow in the Red Priestess’ direction as she joined the conversation, continuing, “Sady true. And High Raj Sharma who was, rest his Spirit, had more awareness than most of the burden of the crown – seeing as he wore it through choice and not simply succession.” He drew a long breath. “I believe the Inquisitor’s investigations would be best conducted without overmuch communication between him and the work of the Quiver and the Council, at least for a time being. Whatever interrogations are being performed, and in what manner, they are – for the moment – the purview of Lord Savin.” Soon, there would need to be a meeting to share information. But Theodore didn’t believe that rushing things would be of any use to anybody.

“Hmph,” Iann said, since the Prelate was technically right - the Inquisition’s investigation was separate from the Quiver and Council, particularly since everyone was suspects. Iann looked over at the Red Priestess, giving her a nod of acknowledgement. He laughed then though. “How poetic would it be, if Inquisitor Savin himself was the Raj-killer?” He said this, even though Iann knew full well he was the one who’d proposed Savin resume his role in the first place.

“Inquisitor Savin is … blessedly … without the capacity for persistent duplicity that this deed required. I’d imagine he’s all too relieved to have some task to occupy himself with in the Capital rather than spending his time longing to be back in the North, away from parlay and politicking.” Theodore gave a thin smile. “He’s possibly the least likely suspect. You’ll have to find your poetry elsewhere, I’m afraid, Prince Iann.”

“You see, Prelate - this is why people don’t like you,” Iann said in an arch tone. “You always have an answer for everything.”

Prelate Theodore considered this critique. “I don’t know any poems,” he offered. “Although I could try, if you needed me to be more infuriating.”

The Prelate did that owlish blinking thing where Iann couldn’t quite tell if he was being genuine or not. It was infuriating, but not in a bad way. “Please, spare your tongue the assault. If the Cloverry is charged once more with picking a new High Raj, at least I know the person to appeal to. Namely - any other Prelate but you.” He gave a short, curt bow. “Wind to your sails, Prelate.”

“Fleet be your feet, Prince.”

#got scene

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discord-trolls · 6 years

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A new old friend (a soft reboot drabble)

Ponyville was as unfortunately ordinary as it could be. The sky was it’s usual blue, birds chirped the same monotonous tunes and the pony folk all ran their usual little rat races that day. Such an environment was not becoming for the lord of chaos.

Discord was in the marketplace to collect snacks. It seemed that Twilight Sparkle and the girls were going on a ‘friendship retreat’ meaning the castle would be empty and free for a rousing guy’s night of Ogres and Oubliettes. He asked Spike why he wanted him to buy the snacks rather than conjure them with his magic, the dragon said store bought tasted better. That didn’t sit well with Discord to say the least.

He perused through the different shops, a hint of grumpiness to his step as he collected everything on Spikes list. Even after Discord would have been done gathering the refreshments, it’d still be a long agonizingly dull day before guy’s night got started. He silently prayed for some form of excitement. A bugbear attack. An earthquake. He’d even settle for a thief chase.

He soon got his wish in the form of a powerful shiver that shot through his body.

Being the spirit of chaos came with a fair share of abilities. One of them being the power to sense magical imbalances. Such a distinct surge registered on his metaphysical radar then and there, snapping himself out of his daze. His amber eyes, wide with surprise and curiosity, turned to the source of the disturbance. It wasn’t far. Just a few miles from Ponyville, in the heart of the Everfree Forest.

Being too intrigued to resist, Discord snapped his eagles talon and willed himself to the source of the surge without hesitation. What he found was quite unexpected, and that’s saying a lot.

“Listen to your Queen!” Chrysalis bellowed. “We must retrieve the Elements of Harmony!”

The shouting returned Twilight’s attention to the changeling. This wasn’t the Princess Twilight Sparkle the rest of a Equestria knew however. This was a dark double. Brought to life not a moment ago by a single piece of hair and a dark spell conjured by Chrysalis. She, along with the copies of Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie were created with the sole purpose of harnessing the power of the Elements of Harmony in the name of the Changeling Queen.

From the looks of her ‘colleagues’, however, this Twilight could see the plan was off to a bad start. Their lazy, idiotic self serving behavior seemed to be too much for even the ‘her Majesty’ to control. ‘Twilight’ walked up to her, disdain and disrespect very prevolent in her approach.

“Why didn’t you just attack them!?” she demanded.

“Excuse me?” Chrysalis asked, venom dripping from her voice.

“You got close enough to pull hair from their manes! Why not take your revenge then?”

“They defeated my army. I know better than to strike alone. I need....”

“Friends?” ‘Twilight’ finished her sentence with a smarmy tone.

”... Servants!” Chrysalis growled back. “And the power of the elements.”

“Right.”

‘Twilight’ Examined their surroundings once more. “So where are these ‘Elements of Harmony’?”

“The location of the most powerful magic in Equestria isn’t something made known to just anypony. I learned they were hidden somewhere in this forest.”

“Yeah well, it is a big forest.” the clone shot back before walking away. She was not impressed with their master Chrysalis in the slightest. So much so, that as they finally started to get on with

their mission, an ulterior motive was already brewing in her mind.

Discord looked down at the scene with surprise and amusement. It would seem that Chrysalis was rather ambitious with the revenge she swore onto Starlight Glimmer after she had freed her changeling hive from the Queen's’ control. Her plan to use copies of Twilight and the girls to harness the element’s power was a bold, if horrifically flawed plan.

What caught his attention most of all was the Twilight. He could see in her eyes there was something especially special about her compared to the other five. Her composure, her snark, the gears he could see turning in her head. It was the version of Twilight he had always hoped to see.

Now, a responsible ally to Equestria would swooped in, done away with the copies and apprehended Chrysalis promptly and without hesitation. Of course, while Discord is many things, responsible is not often the first descriptor that comes to mind. He kept his distance and continued to observe the group as he considered what he should do next.

It had been hours since this mission had begun and they had barely made any progress. ‘Twilight’ all but stomped through the forest looking for her companions. “Keep it together. You can do this,” she told herself through gritted teeth. “You need those imbeciles if your plan is going to come together.”

“You’re plan, eh?” a voice called out.

‘Twilight’ stood at attention, looking around for the source of that unfamiliar voice, readying herself for if she needed to fight her way out of something. Soon, her eyes fell upon one of the strangest things she had ever seen laying on a tree branch. A grotesque, patchwork amalgam of different creatures with a distorted equines head at the top. It stared at her with asymmetrical amber eyes and a long, toothy grin.

“What? Who are you!?” she demanded.

“Ah, so you don’t have her memories,” the creature noted. “Excellent. I love fresh starts.”

It swooped down from the branch and landed before her. “Discord. Spirit of Chaos and Disharmony. Hi, how are you?” he greeted, extending his lions paw out to her.

The alicorn grimaced, starting to turn around. “I don’t have time for this nonsense, monster. I have things to do!”

“Yes so I noticed. You and Chrysalis both seem dead set on finding those elements.”

She froze. ”... What do you know about the elements?”

“More than you do. That much is certain.”

“And I suppose that you intend to stop us?”

“I don’t have to,” Discord corrected, laying back in mid air. “Because I know you’re going to fail.”

‘Twilight’ just stood there puzzled for a moment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well let me answer that question with a question. Your boss Chryssy told you that Princess Twilight and her friends had the ability to wield the elements but did you ever tell you why?”

She narrowed her eyes at the smug creature before finally answering. ”... no.”

“Figured as much. She doesn’t know either.” he chuckled. “It’s because those six ponies in fact embody the qualities required to wield such a power. Honesty, Laughter, Generosity, Kindness Loyalty etc. See, that’s the part most people seem to miss about how they work.”

Discord twirled a single claw of his eagle’s talon in the air, causing the area around it to twist and change until a small rift opened up. The rift showed Princess Twilight, back when she was a unicorn standing with her friends before the lord of chaos.

“You see, like your Queen, I was once enemies with those girls as well. I knew they weilded the only thing in Equestria that could defeat me so I needed to remove them from the equation. So with a few choice words, and a dash of magic, I was able to turn those ponies into the exact opposite of the elements they embodies. A liar, a grump, a hoarder, a brute and a drifter to name a few.”

He turned his gaze from the visual aid back to ‘Twilight’, an even wider grin on his face. “Sound familiar?”

She looked down, thinking back to the other five. Their behavior, coupled with the creatures explanation caused worry to begin flooding her system.

”... You’re bluffing.”

“Sure, let’s go with that.” he replied, trying hard not to laugh.

”So what? Are you trying to say the elements won't work for us because we aren’t goody goods?”

“Oh them not working for you is the best case scenario,” he explained. “It’s equally as possible that the Tree of Harmony will know you and the others are just tainted copies and possibly purge from existence.”

Her knees began to wobble slightly. Only now was she considering the very serious chances of failure and to say she didn’t like it one bit was the say that the sun is a bit toasty.

“Why? Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

Discord shrugged. “Well maybe it’s just my gentle loving heart, but I would hate to see the worst happen to somepony over a doomed revenge scheme.” He lowered himself down until he was eye to eye with the clone. “Besides, I like you. You’re filled with ambition, cunning and a refreshing lack of crippling neurosis. You have potential. And if there’s something I love doing it’s realizing potential.”

He extended his paw out again. “So, dark Twilight,” he said cheekily. “Do you want to carry on with her Majesty’s already failed plan, or would you rather come with me and truly make something of yourself?”

She frowned, knowing full well this was the illusion of free choice. Whether or not this creature was telling the truth, the fact remained that there were too many rogue variables to take that chance. Whether by this Tree of Harmony or Chrysalis herself, she risked oblivion, Begrudgingly, she lifted her hoof, accepting his paw.

“Fine.”

“Excellent!” Discord beamed. “Shall we go gather your compatriots? They seem fun.”

“No,” she responded flatly. “If what you say is true, then they’re useless to me.”

Discord whistled. “My you are as cold as they come aren’t you. I knew I liked you for a reason.”

‘Twilight’ scoffed and eyed Discord with an unamused glare. “Well, shall we?”

“Indeed,” he said with a smile, raising his lion’s paw up. “You’ll likely need a place to stay, I imagine. I hope you like lava beds.”

“Lava wha-?”

With a snap of his fingers, the two vanished from the forest.

#discord #Twilight Sparkle #evil twilight #mlp #My Little Pony

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dfroza · 3 years

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what does it mean to you to love God and others?

Love is the fulfillment of God’s law.

and even though no person is perfect enough to do this perfectly, yet grace is still available to perfect the heart in our Creator’s eyes which humbles the heart & mind.

people choose either Light or darkness to live inside where desire begins.

and we will get nowhere in the absence of humility before our Creator. we have to see ourselves as daughters & sons of eternal Light.

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 15th chapter of the Letter of Romans:

So now what? We who are strong are not just to satisfy our own desires. We are called to carry the weaknesses of those who are not strong. Each of us must strive to please our neighbors, pursuing their welfare so they will become strong. The Anointed One Himself is our model for this kind of living, for He did not live to please Himself. And as the Scriptures declared, “When they insult You, they insult me.” You see, everything written in the days of old was recorded to give us instructions for living. We find encouragement through the Scriptures and a call to perseverance that will produce hopeful living. I pray that our God, who calls you and gives you perseverance and encouragement, will join all of you together to share one mind according to Jesus the Anointed. In this unity, you will share one voice as you glorify the one True God, the Father of our Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, our Liberating King.

So accept one another in the same way the Anointed has accepted you so that God will get the praise He is due. For, as I am fond of saying, the Anointed One has become a servant of the Jews in order to demonstrate God’s truth. Effectively this confirms the promises He made to our ancestors and causes the non-Jewish nations to glorify God for His mercy. As the Scriptures say,

For this I will praise You among the nations

and sing praises to Your name.

Again the Scriptures say,

Nations, celebrate with His covenant people.

And again,

Praise the Lord, all nations.

Raise your voices, all people; let your praises flow to God.

Again Isaiah says,

Then, the root of Jesse will emerge—

He rises to rule all the peoples of the world

who come to Him for guidance and direction.

In Him they place their hope.

I pray that God, the source of all hope, will infuse your lives with an abundance of joy and peace in the midst of your faith so that your hope will overflow through the power of the Holy Spirit.

My brothers and sisters, I am ultimately confident that you are full of goodness, knowledge, and the ability to help and instruct one another. I have written to you with unflinching honesty on many topics because I do not want you to ever lose sight of the tremendous grace God has given me. His grace makes me who I am, a minister of the Anointed One, Jesus, called to serve the nations.

The good news of God is the focus of my priestly work. In effect, these nations have become an offering to God, totally acceptable, indeed made holy by the work of the Holy Spirit. So in Jesus, the Anointed One, I have reason to celebrate the things I do for God. I don’t want to be presumptuous, so I will restrict myself to what the Anointed has accomplished through my words and actions, which has culminated in the obedience of the nations. My words and actions have been rooted in Spirit-empowered signs and miracles. The upshot is this: I have been able to preach the good news of the Anointed One in city after city from Jerusalem all the way around the Mediterranean to Illyricum. I have dreamed of preaching the gospel in places where no one has ever heard of the Anointed so that I do not build on a foundation laid by anyone else. But as the Scriptures say,

They will see Him even though they’ve never been told about Him;

they will understand even though they never heard of Him.

Because of many issues, I have not been able to visit you in the city of Rome. But my time to serve those here is coming to an end, there’s no room left for me in this region, and I have longed to come to you for many years. So I plan to visit you on my journey to Spain. I am hoping that I will not only see you face-to-face, but that you will assist me in the journey west after I have enjoyed our time together. But right now I must make the journey to Jerusalem to serve the saints there. Those in Macedonia and Achaia decided it was a good idea to share their funds to help the poor among the saints in Jerusalem. I must tell you that they were thrilled to be able to help. They realize that they are indebted to the believers in Jerusalem. If the nations share in the Jews’ spiritual goods, then it’s only right that they minister back to them in material goods. When this work is complete and the funds we’ve collected are delivered, I will make my way to Spain through your grand city of Rome and enjoy some of your hospitality. I’m sure that when I come to you I will come as a blessing and as one fully blessed by the Anointed One.

My brothers and sisters, I urgently plead with you by the name of our Lord Jesus, the Anointed, and by the love of the Spirit to join together with me in your prayers to God for my success in these next endeavors. Pray that I will be rescued from those who deny and persecute the faith in Judea and that my service in Jerusalem will meet the approval of all the saints there. If that happens, then my journey to you will be filled with joy; and, if God wills, I can rest and be refreshed in your presence. I pray the God of all peace will be with you all. Amen.

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 15 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 34th chapter of the book (scroll) of Isaiah that points to an act of God’s Judgment upon wickedness:

Gather around, everyone. All peoples take note!

The earth and everything in it,

The world and all that comes from it should hear this, too,

For the Eternal One is furious with all the nations. He has had it with their armies.

He has marked them for destruction, and has given them over to slaughter.

Their blood will run like rivers down the mountains,

their corpses tossed out, heaped up, and randomly piled in a great stinking mound.

All the stars in the once-vibrant heavens will vanish:

and the sky will be rolled up like a scroll.

All the starry hosts will wither and fall,

like grape leaves crisped by fall or fig leaves shriveled by winter.

Eternal One: For once my sword has had its fill in the heavens;

I’ll set it against Edom, those people who despise My own.

I have marked Edom for judgment and destruction.

The Eternal One indeed has a blood-gulping sword.

It drinks up fat and blood from the innards

And flesh of lambs, goats, and rams—the sacrifice.

And now the Eternal is coming to sacrifice the Edomites—

A great slaughter in their capital Bozrah,

And great wild cattle will be slaughtered

along with them—bulls, oxen, and steers—

Until their land is soggy with blood and oozes with their fat.

For the Eternal has determined a time for retaliation,

a time to vindicate Zion, ravaged by Babylon and Edom.

Edom’s waters will be made thick and black as oily pitch.

Its dust will turn to brimstone, and the land will ignite with burning pitch.

Edom’s fiery judgment will burn day and night for all time;

the smoke from it will ascend forever.

For generations to come it will be a wasteland,

and no person will make it their home ever again.

Desert owls and screech owls, great owls and ravens

will take up residence in that bleak place.

When God measures the land,

desolation will be its width and chaos will mark its length.

The land will be known as No Kingdom.

No nobles are there to name a king. Its line of princes will cease.

Its great towers will be covered in thorns.

Nasty nettles and thistles will overrun its strong cities.

Wild jackals will slink around the premises,

and ostriches will make themselves at home.

Among the howling and hissing wild creatures and demons,

Lilith herself, demoness of the night, will call Edom her haunt,

A place to recoup and rest between her devastating forays.

Owls of all sorts will take up habitation there,

nesting and laying their eggs.

They will hatch their young and cover them beneath their wings.

Vultures and their mates will gather there.

You can look for it and read all about it in the book of the Eternal One.

None of these creatures will be missing and none will lack a mate

Because His voice has given the order

and His Spirit has gathered them in that place.

He has determined where they should live;

He has handed it over to them and it will be theirs for all time.

They will live there, one generation after the next, forever.

The Book (Scroll) of Isaiah, Chapter 34 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for monday, july 12 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons that points to the significance of documenting Torah, as well as all of Scripture since what it all reveals is the True illumination of the Son:

Shavuah tov, friends. This week we begin reading the concluding book of the Torah, called Sefer Devarim (ספר דברים), so named from the phrase eleh ha’devarim (“these are the words...”) found in its opening verse (see verse below). In our English Bibles, Sefer Devarim is known as the Book of “Deuteronomy,” from a Greek word meaning “second (or repeated) law” (i.e., δευτερονόμιον), a term used to translate the phrase mishneh ha-Torah (i.e. משׁנה התורה, “copy of the Torah,” in Deut. 17:18). Generally speaking, this book represents Moses’ “farewell address” to the people of Israel before he died wherein he reviewed the history and the laws given to the people and repeatedly warned that obedience would bring blessing while disobedience would bring disaster. The series of personal discourses (or sermons) in this book all have the tone of rebuke and admonition, and indeed some of the sages have said it resembles a sort of “deathbed blessing” not unlike Jacob’s blessing given to his sons...

Our Torah portion (פרשה) for this week, called parashat Devarim (פרשת דברים), is the very first reading of the Book of Deuteronomy – which begins with Moses recounting the journey from Mount Sinai to the edge of the promised land. Moses mentioned the difficulty of personally governing the people and recalled how he had set up a system of judges to help him administer justice among the various tribes. He then reminded the people of the sin of the spies and the rebellion of the people at Kadesh Barnea which led to God’s decree that no one of that generation would live to enter the land of Canaan (except for Caleb and Joshua). Moses then provided an outline of the 38 year exile of the Israelites back toward the Sea of Reeds, into the desert regions, and then back again until the subsequent generation was ready to enter the promised land. For more information, see the links listed below. [Hebrew for Christians]

7.11.21 • Facebook

and another about the space of the inner life:

The inner life of the self can be one of tranquility and peace, or it can be one of turmoil and struggle -- as we sense forces within our own hearts that seek to pull us away from what is good... What is hidden within can become a destructive force, ready to erupt in unexpected moments. We have to be careful to "take every thought captive" before the presence of God, since otherwise our thoughts can lead to chaotic thinking and unrestrained emotions. If we allow ourselves to self-indulgently murmur or envy, for example, such thoughts may surreptitiously become a fixed part of our character.

As C.S. Lewis once said: “Hell begins with a grumbling mood, always complaining, always blaming others... but you are still distinct from it. You may even criticize it in yourself and wish you could stop it. But there may come a day when you can no longer. Then there will be no you left to criticize the mood or even to enjoy it, but just the grumble itself, going on forever like a machine. It is not a question of God "sending us" to hell. In each of us there is something growing, which will be hell unless it is nipped in the bud.” (Great Divorce)

We can find deliverance from our inner conflicts by humbling our self and opening our heart to a trusted friend, as it says: "Confess your faults one to another and pray for one another, that you may be healed" (James 5:16). A good friend will make time to quietly listen to the story of your struggle and to then extend grace, compassion, and forgiveness, serving as a priest for your heart, revealing God's kindness and mercy in your darkest of moments... The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it (John 1:5). [Hebrew for Christians]

7.12.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

July 12, 2021

The Right Man on Our Side

“Behold, Satan hath desired to have you, that he may sift you as wheat: But I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not.” (Luke 22:31-32)

Satan wanted Peter to fall, and fall he would (v. 34), but Christ had prayed for him that victory would come. The second verse of “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” reflects our vulnerability on our own and our invincibility on His side.

Did we in our own strength confide,

Our striving would be losing;

Were not the right man on our side,

The man of God’s own choosing:

Dost ask who that may be? Christ Jesus it is He,

Lord Sabaoth, His name, From age to age the same,

And He must win the battle.

After revealing many thrilling blessings, Paul asks: “What shall we then say to these things? If God be for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31). Furthermore, neither “principalities, nor powers” nor any thing else in all creation is “able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38-39). With Him, Satan cannot win the battle for our minds or destinies. But on our own, we cannot win.

The term Sabaoth is the Hebrew word for “hosts,” in particular the “host of heaven.” The term Yahweh Sabaoth or “Lord Sabaoth” occurs some 300 times in the Old Testament and constitutes a most majestic name for God. “For thy Maker is thine husband; the LORD of hosts is his name; and thy Redeemer the Holy One of Israel; The God of the whole earth shall he be called” (Isaiah 54:5). This is none other than “Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and to day, and for ever” (Hebrews 13:8). Creator (Colossians 1:16), Sustainer (v. 17), Redeemer (v. 20)—He must win the battle. JDM

ICRscience: ✝️ Could someone who doubts God's existence interpret the Bible correctly? Yes, because the Bible's words are clear.

#TheBibleIsTrue #GodIsAlive

@randyguliuzza

7.12.21 • 2:15pm • Twitter

A tweet by illumiNations:

@IlluminationsBT: Today, we're highlighting a Bible portion in a language from east-central Tanzania with approximately 269,769 speakers.

Do you know what language this is? Comment below with your guesses.

7.12.21 • 12:00pm • Twitter

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donveinot · 3 years

Text

What Can I Do?

Photo by Christine Roy on Unsplash It’s a question that frequently comes up when faced with the looming reality of our changing world. Understandably so: Whether we’re encountering the Great Reset Agenda of the World Economic Forum, recognizing the influence of the interfaith movement, or watching the cultural great leap backwards take place before our eyes, we desire to act – what can I do? Often this question is couched in a sense of despair. It’s like witnessing an unstoppable train-wreck in slow motion, but the momentum has suddenly increased just as we’ve realized the gravity of the situation, and now we’re frozen in place by its magnitude. Something else is often in play, a strained hope that somehow, someone, somewhere will put a stop to it; to right this topsy-turvy world. Now you could – and you should – voice your concerns to elected officials. In a nation where the government is “from the people, by the people and for the people,”((Abraham Lincoln, “Gettysburg Address”)) that is part of your spiritual and civic responsibility. It is their job to hear and respond. You could – and you should – take some prudent personal measures, like shoring up one’s finances and shedding consumer debt. You should invest in personal relationships, in building up networks of trust. Other responses crop up, but in this article, we will tackle five short points, taking a slightly different approach than what’s often expected when we encounter the question, what can I do? 1) Understand your own worldview, and then take the time to understand theirs. No matter what is going on in culture in any given time period, believers in Jesus Christ must know what they believe, and why. The Apostle Paul’s letters consistently reinforced theological truths, instructing the early church in matters of doctrine while challenging them to remain in the faith. Furthermore, Paul’s instructions weren’t given in a vacuum; early believers faced mounting religious, political, and cultural pressures. His messages to those churches are as important today as ever. Like those believers, we too must understand the truths of God and how this shapes our worldview. We should also grasp the nature of competing worldviews, being willing to juxtapose those claims against the truth of scripture. Paul did, as exemplified in Acts 17:16-33. With the above in mind, it’s important to consider the ninth of the Ten Commandments: You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor (Exodus 20:16) What is a false witness? It is a person who stands up and swears before others that something untrue is true. Unfortunately, in our world of sound bites and social media, it can be hard to distinguish fact from sensationalism and fiction from well-intended messages. Nevertheless, before we throw our voices into the mix, we should exercise due diligence to ensure the accuracy of what we’re communicating – both in terms of the Christian message and what others are saying. Then, by understanding all viewpoints – yours and theirs, to the best of your ability – you position yourself with an informed opinion and an accurate context for truth. You become a truth teller, guarding against falling to slander, even unintentionally. But recognize this: before endeavoring to seriously understand a competing worldview, know your own line-in-the-sand lest you end up compromising it. See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ. (Colossians 2:8) 2) Inform yourself and your circle of influence, without resorting to hyperbole as the facts are sensational enough – do this with honesty and respect, so that you can become a trusted source. Quality, Christian-based resources are available to help you understand the questions and concerns of our age – Midwest Christian Outreach, Inc and Forcing Change are two examples. Then, as you study and seek knowledge, pay attention to what’s around you, carefully applying a Biblical lens while gaining an increased awareness. Soon you’ll notice how prevalent competing messages are, from what’s posted on your grocery store bulletin board to content on social media. Moreover, you’ll begin to understand how so many of our political and social changes are outgrowths of competing worldviews. For some of us, the next step is to find source material that demonstrates the intentionality of cultural changes. For example, when discussing the Great Reset of the World Economic Forum, you’ve taken the time to watch some of their videos and have read selected WEF articles. In doing this you’ve also gained insight into their language, discovering that word meanings and definitions are not always as they seem, that many social, environmental, and political concepts and nuances are either redefined or placed within a new narrative. Like anything else, there is a learning curve. Nevertheless, you’ve gleaned the overall picture, compared and contrasted worldviews and their potential outcomes, and can speak with some measure of knowledge. Not only can you “tell” but you can “show,” and this takes away the slippery slope of second-hand sensationalism. Then when you talk to others, including those who support that opposing worldview, you can use “their own words.” Thus equipped, hopefully, you’ll find yourself talking with them and not at them. In some respects, this was the approach Paul used in Acts 17; he employed their own lingo and leveraged their philosophy so as to reason with them about who the “Unknown God” is. Paul was able to discern an opportunity within an opposing culture and pursued this in a respectful manner. His approach is a good reminder: don’t let your validity be lost in your delivery. In doing the above, we have to understand who the real enemy is – “principalities and powers” – and represent ourselves as truth-tellers, ambassadors for Jesus Christ,((2 Corinthians 5:20)) as we engage in worldview conversations. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. (Ephesians 4:12) So, who’s in your circle of influence? Anyone you are in front of, anyone you rub shoulders with. While we mainly stay within our own social circles, we ultimately influence everywhere we go. So, when out and about, consider who it is you’ll be in front of. And like Paul, look for those opportunities to speak truth. 3) Encourage your Pastor to stick with the truth of Scripture, for churches are not immune from these pressures. In fact, churches and seminaries have become vocal promoters of spiritual fads, counter-worldviews, and the political religion that we can build the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth. Encourage your Pastor to stand on God’s Word, testing trends and cultural shifts – including those coming from inside denominations – against the standard that does not change. And as we’re writing this in 2021, we are acutely aware that Covid has exposed rifts within the Christian community while adding extra political challenges – from church shutdowns to others standing against lockdowns. We need to be discerning while recognizing that worldviews are in tension, and for some, this will be and has been costly. Encourage your Pastor to stand as a watchman, one who not only warns against coming dangers but calls people to be spiritually ready as we enter perilous days, the birth pangs. Likewise, you too are to be watchful. Indeed, this is a serious calling. Let us not be as those found in Isaiah 56:10, His watchmen are blind; they are all without knowledge; they are all silent dogs; they cannot bark, dreaming, lying down, loving to slumber. 4) Don't be scared of the world – concerned, yes – but don't let it drive you into fear. Don't let the fear of Man overshadow what's really important, the fear of God. Crisis creates fear, and when fear is used against us, we naturally want to protect ourselves. Hence, when a “solution” to a crisis – real or perceived – is presented as the way forward, as “salvation,” we welcome the reprieve, even if it’s something we would (or should!) rationally abhor. The Great Reset as presented by the World Economic Forum fits this bill, presenting a range of collectivist approaches in dealing with global fears. 2 Timothy 1:7 implied that if we fear, it robs us, For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind. And Proverbs 29:25 reminds us that “the fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is safe.” Let us put fear in its proper place. 5) Recognize world agendas like that presented by the WEF, or the Parliament of World’s Religions or the United Nations, for what they really are; an alternative salvation message – by uniting to save the Earth we redeem ourselves and can therefore usher an age of peace and prosperity. This is an unmistakable messianic impulse. Will doing or adopting any of the above stop the world from moving in the direction it's going? No. But that's ultimately not your job – your task is to be responsible, to be salt and living in grace, wherever you are. If your work is in the realm of high-power politics and finance, great, that’s your front line. If it’s in journalism and research, welcome to the club. If it’s as an educator or pastor or teacher… whether you’re involved in business or a trade or health care or a homemaker... the list goes on. Wherever your feet are, that’s where your mission field is, to be truth tellers – to your family, neighbors, and church – and even to your elected officials. Our world is changing. The Great Reset is just another point of evidence. If God told us this was going to happen – that people and nations would seek their own way (2 Timothy 3:13, Psalm 2) – be assured that He also has a plan: It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in man. (Psalm 118:8)Ω

Carl Teichrib is the author of Game of Gods: The Temple of Man in the Age of Re-Enchantment, and excerpts can be read at Game of Gods: The Temple of Man in the Age of Re-Enchantmenthis research reports and articles can be found at Game of Gods: The Temple of Man in the Age of Re-Enchantment Forcing Change Co-author Audrey Vanderkley is the administrator at Remnant Online Fellowship, which exists to connect people to relevant Christian resources on Bible prophecy and worldview issues © 2021, Midwest Christian Outreach, Inc All rights reserved. Excerpts and links may be used if full and clear credit is given with specific direction to the original content. Read the full article

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ezzydean · 7 years

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“In all honesty, I didn’t think you’d go through with it, so it’s both of our faults.” OiDai

well this turned into… something

“I mean who wouldn’t do a ritual to summon a dark lord and use them to wreak havoc upon their enemies?”

The room fell into a silence that made the hair stand up on Tooru’s arms. He hadn’t expected the joke to go over uproariously but he hadn’t quite expected to feel like he had just desecrated a tomb in front of the owner’s family either.

“At least that’s what he told me. Which was ridiculous because, really, who would do that? Classless heathens, that’s who.”

The women next to him tittered at his charming grin as he rolled his eyes and the room swung back into motion, guests chattering and moving on to the next topic of gossip. Not that they would forget what he said, it just wasn’t polite to gossip about it with him in the middle of the room.

Tooru smiled politely, seemingly engaged with whatever drivel the woman next to him was babbling to him, and let his gaze flicker about the room. The woman was so caught up in the sound of her own voice she barely seemed to notice when he excused himself and drifted through the crowd. He wasn’t looking for anyone, not really. But he wasn’t planning on sticking around and making small talk with the masses of magical beings swathed in all their witchery fineness tonight. This wasn’t even his party.

“That was horrible,” Daichi’s amused voice comes from the other side of the bar. Tooru didn’t roll his eyes but it was clear to anyone looking that he wanted to.

“It was your joke. Story. Whatever. You told me it last week.”

Daichi let out an amused snort and leaned across the oak top of the bar. “You see. In all honesty? I didn’t expect you to go through with sharing it. So it’s both our faults I guess.”

“And people say Suga is the devious little demon in your household.”

“Only the people who have never actually met him.” Daichi laughed and Tooru couldn’t help but join him with a tired chuckle.

Something rumbled ominously behind Tooru and dropped his head to the bar top with a quiet groan.

“Remind me why we’re doing this again. Why am I not home in bed being waited on by a cute demon in a snappy tux?”

Daichi quickly drew something in the condensation on the bar from the drink he had been about to hand Tooru. Then he laughed as the oak grumbled and crackled and lashed out at the ominous rumbling thing in the crowd.

“Because I am not all that cute and the last time I wore a tux you literally tore it off me.”

“Fine.” Tooru huffed against the bar top even as it wriggled and writhed and strained to be free and lash out. “Then why am I not at home in bed being waited on by a savagely handsome demon in jeans that could be painted on?”

“Because said demon is currently busy defending you from being hexed. Or whatever it is they’re trying to do to you.”

The oak bar top shatters around them and Tooru’s face smacks into the crisscross supports under it.

“And this party just stopped being even remotely salvageable.” Tooru jerked upright and calmly brushed the wood chips and splinters from his jacket. “Do you think it was the joke? Or am I just that wonderful everyone wants to either be me, be with me, or just destroy my very being and consume my essence in an attempt to become an all powerful creature of the night?”

Daichi dragged his gaze up and down Tooru in a way that made him shiver with appreciation. “Little of option A,” he finally said, “pinch of B, mostly C. I know consuming you is one of my favorite pastimes after all.”

“Oh, Daichi. You do know all the nicest things to say to a demonic boy who just wants to watch the world burn at his feet thanks to the fire at his fingertips.”

Daichi leaned across what was left of the bar, grabbed Tooru by the lapels of his jacket, and pulled him in close. His breath fanned across Tooru’s cheek. “I know all the naughtiest things to say to him too. If you’re interested that is.”

Tooru rocked back on his heels when Daichi let go of his jacket and grinned.

“Oh I am very interested. Let me just iron out this little wrinkle in tonight’s festivities and I’ll see you at home in twenty minutes.”

A colorful cloud of fog was filling the room, snaking towards the bar. Daichi glanced past Tooru’s shoulders and then nodded.

“Twenty minutes. If you’re late I’ll take my painted on jeans and go wait on Makki instead.”

Tooru’s eyes narrowed and he huffed haughtily.

“Oh believe me I won’t be late.” Daichi winked out of existence behind the bar with the tiniest clap of noise and a tricky little fold of light and shadow. Tooru spun on his heel and strode towards the fog enveloping the room, ready to clear the air. Even if it had been a bit of a boring party that was no excuse to go dragging mutated minions from the depths of hell and unleashing them onto some gossip-mongering witches of questionable reputation and talent.

Some people, it seemed, had no class at all.

#haikyuu #OiDai #oikawa tooru #sawamura daichi #hq writing #OiDai fic #prompt #ryekamasaki #precious gem of a ship

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rey-kryze · 7 years

Text

THE LAST TARGARYEN: jonerys fic [ requested ]

YOU SAID YOU WERE TAKING REQUESTS: HOW ABOUT ANOTHER JON AND DANY FINDING OUT HIS TRUE PARENTAGE BUT INSTEAD OF JUST THEM LEARNING ABOUT IT, ALL THE PEOPLE AROUND THEM REACT TO IT TOO. THE STARKS, TYRION, DAVOS, MISSANDEI, ETC. I JUST FEEL LIKE I HAVEN'T SEEN ENOUGH WITH OTHER PEOPLE FINDING OUT. THANKS SO MUCH FOR EVERYTHING YOU'VE CONTRIBUTED TO THE FANDOM

I imagine that in show!canon he’s not going to learn of his heritage until after him and Daenerys have conceived a child ( and whether or not they’re even aware that they have, but it would be a cause of tension insofar as their newfound connection ). And I do believe when he comes back to winterfell, is when he’ll hear it .

What with Bran having SEEN the truth of it, and Sam heading north to where he believes Jon to be , so both people who’d have access to this knowledge will converge there. And Daenerys will sort of be an unwelcome bystander to the most of it.

fair warning : this got really, really long .

Hope was hard earned these days ; after the meeting in the Dragon Pit , and the word of a treasonous , murderous Queen -- it didn’t feel true, in banking on her support as anything other than a front to appeal to those that questioned her rule . Daenerys doubted severely that when called upon , any Lannister forces would rise to defend the North from the Long Night . Still, still she clung to that little glimmer of hope , however small a light it’d become underneath the oppressive force of Winter.

Eastwatch had fallen , the few men there ran to the Northern cities, sending out every last raven, to every family ; from Last Hearth, to Bear Island. The Wall had been taken down by a great beast ; rumors varied, some say it was a sea serpent made of pure ice, and others --- others say it was a dragon with haunting blue eyes. The boat ride north had proven uneventful , aside from whatever time she could spend with Jon, primarily filled with tactical speak, strategy, and long term planning of this unfathomable war. Though it was unmistakable now , that they two were very much in love : what a fools time for this, Jon had thought, while Daenerys kept quiet about whatever her opinions were regarding their relationship.

Tensions ran high as all the Silver Queen’s armies sailed for the Weeping Water ; it would be a safe ride to Winterfell, what with The Dreadfort housing only ghosts, The Great Keep of Winterfell was the last true fort that stood between the Night King’s armies, and the rest of the seven kingdoms.

Eight thousand Unsullied , one hundred thousand Dothraki, and two dragons do not go unnoticed ; the countryside had come alive , they looked to the Targaryen girl with as much reverence , as they did fear .

She wanted to help them , but would her massive forces not be a strain ? Resources are well kept, and rarely shared but this many men, horses, and winged beasts could not live on the idealism that led them there. She cannot think of this , cannot lean on her doubt when already there was plenty enough reason to have it ; instead , she’s focusing on Jon, they both rode at the head of their forces ( their , a union of two separate beings ).

Winterfell loomed in the distance , drawing nearer and nearer faster than she could adjust --- she knew Jon , King in the North , had sent word to his family and his men in the North to inform them of their arrival , but as the armies converged , it became clear to Daenerys that her soldier outnumbered the populace , a hundred to one.

They’re met by Sansa , the Lady of Winterfell, and a small shadow who she knew to be Arya, though only the Lady spoke , Daenerys felt the most of what was said, through the eyes of the younger sister. “ We welcome you to our halls.” Indifference colored Sana’s tone, though, she warms a great deal when she can finally look upon Jon , knowing he’d been unharmed and seeing it are two entirely different senses of comfort.

It took several weeks, but they’d all settled in ; from Tyrion, Theon, Missandei , Davos , and even Varys , all people who had , however unknowingly before now, lead their lives to this very purpose. To save their world, and all within it . Quite a daunting concept, but for now, within the walls of this keep, and fires chasing out the cold of Winter, it was easy to pretend, at the very least that the world wasn’t going to end tomorrow.

Jon had taken this brief respite to go down to the family tombs ; paying respect to the dead had a different tone now that he’d had them at his throat. However , he hoped to find solace here, in the dark, wet catacombs that smelled of old hay , and smoke. Standing before the statue of his father, Lord Eddard Stark, he’s left feeling small ... how could he hope to follow in his footsteps ? To lead these good men to their deaths ? He wonders what he’d have done , if the events of the past had not taken him away.

He’s not alone , that much he knows and while he feels the eyes burning into his back, he’s too stubborn to give them the satisfaction in seeing the worry on his face. “ What d’ya want ?” accent thick, it’s clear enough that he didn’t want to be disturbed and yet --- “ Father told you the next time you saw him, you’d speak of your mother.” A chill settled on Jon’s skin, and he turns to see Bran sitting, hands neatly folded and a grey look of indifference set like stone in his face . “ how d’you ---” Sansa had tried to warn him, that Bran, the three eyed raven ; saw things, knew things that only you, or no one could know.

Jon swallows back the taste of bile, but nods towards Bran all the same. He continues, “ Father is dead, he never got that chance to. But I know. I saw. I was there the day you came screaming into this world, covered in your mother’s blood. She died, you killed her.” Without emotional inflection , he looks past Jon, onto the neighboring statue of Lyanna, “ She was your mother, the Lady Lyanna Stark.”

He could see Jon means to cut him off , as if he were disgusted by such a notion : his father and his aunt ? But Bran’s hand lifts , a request that he let him finish, and as begrudged as Jon might be, he listens. “ Your father was not my father, nor Sansa’s, Arya’s, Robb’s , or Rickon’s . And you are not a bastard.” He pauses, wheeling himself nearer to the statue of his aunt, and Jon’s mother, “ Lyanna Stark, or more appropriately, Lyanna Targaryen conceived a child in secret, but only after a true marriage to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. You are their child, and your name was not to be Jon, but Aegon. I’ve needed to speak to you about this for a long while now , but a great many things stood in our way.”

Jon cannot believe him ; wants to call down the Maester and have Bran medicated for whatever lunacy had perverted his mind beyond the wall. But he sees it, sees the truth to his words and it leaves him feeling hollow. You may not have my name, but you have my blood . His father’s words echoed ; he’d meant his sister’s , but that made him no less a Stark , though , in knowing he carried the blood of a dead and dying house , filled him with something else : dread. He looks away from Bran , who can quite clearly see through him , Rhaegar had been Daenerys’ brother, and that meant he was her family in more ways than one.

He’s not so much bothered by their intimacy ; but she’d convinced herself that she was the last Targaryen, and if what Bran said was true --- his thoughts are interrupted , his brother wheeled past him and cast him a parting look, his final words hung like icicles waiting and wanting to pierce him through. “ You are the rightful heir to the Iron Throne Jon. More than your Queen would be.”

Jon cannot keep such truth to himself , he has no want nor reason to usurp Daenerys’ claim , and he has no intention on letting any such suspicion pervade his honesty. He’s called a meeting of all the lords, and ladies currently making base of Winterfell, as well as the Queen herself, and all her many advisors. He stands at the head of the table, he’s told no one, and was almost grateful that Bran had recused himself from this announcement. He doesn’t know where to start, and so he doesn’t , not really ; he tells the story that his brother had told him, and as he’d believed it, so should they.

And they did. All eyes are on their King, when Lady Lyanna Mormont speaks , “ If what you’re tellin’ us is true. You are not the heir to Winterfell, not the eldest child, either trueborn or bastard.” It is non-confrontational, but the implication rings out above the murmurs of the crowd, and Jon nods, “ Aye, ‘m not the rightful King you all deserve. it’s a title that’d fall to Bran but he denies it.” his weary gaze shifts to Sansa, who sat by his side and had refused to react to the news. Jon steps down from his seat, and over to hers, setting the cloak she’d made him on her narrow shoulders,

“ Sansa is the eldest trueborn child of Lord Eddard, and Lady Catelyn Stark, and the rightful Queen in the North.” There’s a boisterous amount of cheering , but it’s quite clear that the news Jon had broken, was still being absorbed by most. His eyes pick up on a few noteworthy reactions ; Varys, looking as if he already knew, but there’s a glimmer of .. what was it, hope ? In his beady little eyes. Tyrion, who is smiling into his wine, and himself trying to read the crowd. Missandei , bows her head to him when their gazes meet. Arya, who is as unreadable as Sansa, they’re both staring at Daenerys herself, which is where Jon’s gaze settles last, and he feels his throat going tight.

She’s excused herself, not that anyone was particularly interested in what she did , or what she said, aside from the select few who’d made it their life to do just that . It’s cold, when she steps into the courtyard but the brisk wind was sobering , it allowed her to breathe when the great hall, had not. Her hand is on her chest and its twin, her belly ; she’s reeling from the news. She was not alone , her eyes are filled with tears that cannot fall ; they’d freeze, she thinks , but it was by will alone that her pale lashes dam them up, she squeezes her eyes shut.

When she had watched her brother die , he had deserved it , but even in knowing that it was a fate he’d brought upon himself, she felt the pain of his death so acutely , she’s never sure if she entirely recovered. He was the last of her house , as she had been, and if their dynasty before had not fallen into ruin, he would have given her pure blood Targaryen heirs , to keep their family strong, their blood, true. Now , she thinks she knows , for whatever reason Mirri Maz Duur’s words ring out against the tide of her racing heart. Jon had been the one that would come back to her , as death’s grip had already attempted to hold him once and he’d slipped through it , when your womb again quickens with life . Her hand that’d instinctively fell to her stomach, grips the thick fabric that covers it, and her fingers quake.

This revelation , in the center of Winterfell’s courtyard somehow belays the worries of war , that Jon was the true born heir of the Seven Kingdoms , she remained unphased --- if what they had was worth all they’d been through, and every bit more to come , their union would be all the more significant and no less either of their birth rights . She’s walked rather quickly back to her chambers , located near enough to Jon’s that they could meet without rising suspicions, but not so close that it was obvious he’d wanted her there. Secrecy felt , poised, practiced , but now an unnecessary posturing ; he was her blood, her family, and it’s all come to light under the sharp relief cast by this knowing, this knowledge.

The convergence of their respective paths, the lives they’ve lived not knowing ; it has all brought them two, the last Targaryen’s together and in that fire forged a new life, one that bloomed in her belly. How cruel had fate been , to keep them apart so long ? But how kind was it now, that they had a love , a bond of mind, body , and soul that not any other could claim ? She loved him, Jon , and a part of her always had.

Blood of my blood, I am not alone anymore.

#jonerys #jonerysfic #jonerysfics #jonerys fanfic #got spoilers #*my writing.#*requested #FUCK THIS GOT REALLY LONG.#and i cried most of the time #anyways.

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a-monthly-rumbelling · 7 years

Text

The Invitation

Submitted by @darcyfarrow2005

Resisting the lure of evil is just half the final battle, Rumple learns. Now comes the hard part: making amends. For June prompt: bad day, drink, cuddling. Rated K.

—————————–

“Insomnia. Maybe you could prescribe something?”

Hopper invited his guest to sit down on the couch. Rumple knew what that meant: if he accepted the invitation, he’d become Hopper’s patient.

For Belle’s sake. For Gideon’s sake. Hesitantly he lowered himself onto the plaid couch.

“Those midnight feedings with a newborn aren’t what’s keeping you awake, are they, Mr. Gold?”

After a long pause, Rumple took the plunge. “No.”

“Let’s talk about what happens when you try to sleep.” Archie opened his notebook. “Let’s talk about the nightmares and how to fix them.”

For himself. “Yes.”

“Let’s talk about guilt and making amends.”

Rumple cocked his head. “But Doctor, how do you make amends when most of your victims are dead?”

_________________________________

“I don’t need to tell you, there’s always a price.”

Rumple finished Arthur’s thought in a murmur: “Equivalent to the value of the trade.” He peered down at Belle, whose hand was clutched in his, her fingers massaging his knuckles soothingly. She’d expected this moment; they’d discussed it thoroughly until at last she’d accepted the conclusion he’d come to and the deal he’d decided to propose. She’d fought it for days, but in the end she’d had to admit that he was right: there was only one path to follow. Their only hope was to delay walking it.

“I was—we were—hoping to make a deal.” He could feel Belle’s heartbeat through the inside of her wrist; he could feel her body stiffen alongside his.

“Of course.” Arthur leaned against the edge of his conference table. He’d made this space in the Underworld his own since moving in, filling the dank and empty spaces with modern office furniture and carpeting and electronics. When he’d first ushered them in, the Golds had both had to stop and stare in amusement; from the décor, they would have sworn they’d walked into the office of a bank president. Though he’d spent rather little time there, Arthur had been quite taken with the Land Without Magic and all its toys, and with plenty of time on his hands here, he’d made himself and his staff (that was Arthur’s term; Hades had referred to the demons as his “minions”) comfortable as well as comparable to any professional “team.” He himself deserved a long second look, with his manicured nails, Italian loafers, Armani tie, Cartier wristwatch and Givenchy three-piece. Rumple felt like a slacker standing next to him. But as any good professional would, Arthur had made them welcome with Brasilian coffee (“imported,” he chuckled, “but that’s not saying much. Here, everything’s imported.”), invited them to sit and asked about their trip before getting down to business.

“What sort of deal did you have in mind?”

Rumple listened closely for sarcasm or irony but found only sincerity in Arthur’s tone. And perhaps there was a touch of something else, gratitude or admiration—Rumple knew that the Lord of the Underworld kept close tabs on the goings on “up above,” particularly the activities in the few centers of magic in the Land Without, and especially those happenings that could affect the balance of Good and Evil. No doubt Arthur knew everything that had gone down of late… including the fact that Rumple had, once again, killed a parent. Perhaps the reason didn’t matter; just days ago, Rumple had killed; that was all that mattered.

Reddening, Rumple lowered his gaze to the polished table. Belle filled in for him: “We know that the price for a soul is a soul. We were hoping, though…considering that time is irrelevant here, well, despite–” she motioned to Arthur’s watch.

“Just for show,” the king winked. “It goes so well with the suit.”

Rumple found his tongue. “We were hoping that payment could be delayed.”

“I see.” Arthur swung around the table and seated himself, not at its head as a superior would, not across from them, as an opponent would, but beside them, as an equal, on Rumple’s left. “I assume you intend to pay the price yourself, Mr. Gold.”

It was Belle’s turn to lower her head, her free hand sliding up to her cheek to brush away a tear. Rumple merely nodded. “No one else could, considering I was the… .” He sucked in a breath before blurting, “I was her murderer. Twice. Up there and down here.”

“Yes, you were,” Arthur agreed. “She’d done some reprehensible things, but nothing that warranted her death. As for your other recent killings—Malcolm and Fiona—let me assure you, the Tribunal has exonerated you. Lauded you, in fact. No telling what condition humanity would be in now, if you hadn’t stopped those two. Let me also assure you—and this for public consumption, by the way; we’d like you to carry this message to Storybrooke: the Black Fairy and Peter Pan will never again threaten anyone. They no longer exist, in any capacity.”

Belle nodded thoughtfully, her forehead smoothing in relief, but the news seemed only to add to the weight on her husband’s shoulders. They’d talked about this extensively already, with Archie as well as between themselves, yet Belle had had to accept that it would be a long time, if ever, before Rumple let go of the guilt. He’d done what was necessary to protect his family; he’d done what was right to save the community; he’d done what justice demanded, to reset the balance. But none of that negated the fact that Rumplestiltskin had killed his own family.

“Back to the deal,” Arthur urged. “If it was anyone else, I’d assume you mean to delay payment until your natural death.”

“In all honesty, you’d be getting a raw deal if you accepted those terms. I don’t know if a natural death is possible for me.” Rumple shrugged. “Before, when I was just one in a long line of Dark Ones, I knew I could die, but the Dark One couldn’t. Now, with the powers of all the Dark Ones… .”

“We honestly don’t know either. The Tribunal’s talked about it.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “Endlessly. Everybody’s got an opinion on the subject. But this is a first, so who knows? Not that it wasn’t planned; the Fates had worked it out eons ago, that there would come One in whom Light and Dark would be united, and that he would serve humanity as an example that anyone could could conquer the evil within themselves. The Fates had the broad strokes painted, but the specifics… .” He spread his hands. “We’re not sure where things go from here. Mankind’s free will, you know, always throws a monkey wrench into the works.”

“In the past, I would’ve jumped all over that loophole.” Rumple smiled wryly. “But I’ve learned better than to try to screw with the gods.” He sat up straighter. “So I’m offering a fair, transparent deal: If you’ll free Milah from the River of Lost Souls, I’ll take her place.” His shoulders drooped. “I’ve lived a long time. I’ve had my share of its pleasures and pains. But there’s a baby now, and though Belle will raise him with all the love and instruction he needs, he also needs a man to guide him. There are other men who could fill that role, probably better than I could, but—”

“No,” Belle interrupted. “No one but you can be a father to Gideon. He needs you. And so do I, and so does Storybrooke. Please, Arthur, if you’ll consider this offer—take it to the Tribunal if you have to—it’s a fair and honest deal.”

“To everyone but you, maybe,” Arthur suggested.

“Gideon will graduate high school on June 1, 2035. On June 2, 6 a. m. I’ll appear here to pay my end of the deal,” Rumple proposed. “But I’d like for you to release Milah today.”

“Rumplestiltskin never breaks a deal,” Belle reminded Arthur.

“Yes, I know.” Arthur stood and paced the length of the table. “You’re right, time is meaningless here. We’re fully aware what it means to the living. What a father means to a child. What it means to a community when a cycle of damaged parenting can be broken. I think it’s a good deal and I would accept it, but—”

The Golds’ faces fell. “But?”

“It’s unnecessary.” With a big grin, Arthur crossed back around and crouched beside Rumple’s chair, setting his hand on the Dark One’s shoulder. “The Tribunal guessed that you’d make this offer. We’ve already deliberated—the Fates were the most vocal—and we’ve decided that we need you to live out the natural course of your existence. Only the Fates know what that might be, and they’re not sharing the plan with the rest of us, but they say, and we all agree, that you’re more important to us as the Last Savior than as payment on some deal. You’ve got a big job to do, Rumplestiltskin; raising Gideon and supporting your family and your town are just small parts of it. So this once, we’re suspending the Laws of Magic.” Arthur rose and snapped his fingers. “Look around, you two, to the river.”

Eyes wide, the Golds clambered to their feet and spun around to face the eternally churning River of Lost Souls. A beam of white light, reminding Rumple of lighthouse searchlights, broke through the water and burst into the air, catching water drops and making them shine like diamonds. The Golds had to shield their eyes from the bright light. Gradually it faded, the water drops splashing back down into the river, and when their eyes had readjusted, they saw standing before them a bewildered and wet Milah. She cocked her head, staring at them in disbelief, and water sluiced off her hair and shoulders.

Arthur walked over to her, his arm outstretched. “Welcome back, Milah.”

She gaped at his open palm before daring to accept it. Finding his touch solid, she chose to accept that what she was seeing must be real, and she tested her rusty voice. “What? What?”

“What happened?” Arthur prompted. “You’ve been released. They did it.” He waved the Golds forward.

“Hello, Milah. I’m Belle.” She offered her hand; automatically, Milah released Arthur’s to shake Belle’s. The latter kept her tone even but cool. “I’m Rumplestiltskin’s wife.”

“Hello, Milah.” Rumple didn’t offer his hand; she probably wouldn’t have taken it. “I came to make an apology, for everything… the times I refused to listen to you, the times I didn’t give you what you needed… .” He raised his chin bravely. “For killing you. I can’t make amends for what I did, and I don’t imagine you’ll ever forgive me, but I came to fix this, at least.” He nodded toward the river.

Milah collected her scattered thoughts. “Something happens, when you die, Rumple: you gain a second sight. You see only what’s ahead and where you want to go. I let go of my anger, years ago. All I want is to move on and be with Bae.” She turned to Arthur. “Is that possible?”

“It always was. All you have to do is to choose it.” Arthur directed their attention to a long and winding stone walkway that led into a hazy distant light.

Stunned, she exchanged a glance with each of them, then turned toward the walkway, but Rumple grasped her arm. “Milah, please, I need to know: can you forgive me?”

“I’ve had centuries to forget you. I never quite did, because of Bae. But there,” she pointed to the river, “where regret and guilt grab your ankles and drag you down, and anger and disappointment push your head under so you can’t breathe, every minute as you’re dying you’re reliving your life. Just now, though, when I emerged and could breathe again, I realized the only way to survive is to reach out in forgiveness and cling to the hand of love, because that’s the only power that lasts.” She pressed her hand into his. “For the son we brought into the world, I love you, Rumple, and I’ll pray for happiness for you and for Belle. When you see Killian, tell him I wish the best for him.” Slowly, she walked over to the path and set one unsteady foot on the stones. “I’ll tell Bae you’ve found peace, Rumple.” She set the other foot onto the walkway, straightened her shoulders and looked off into the distance.

“Thank you, Milah,” Rumple started to breathe again.

“Safe journey, Milah,” Belle wished.

“Goodbye.” She took a step forward. “I’m sure we’ll meet each—” she broke off with a gasp, clasping her hand over her mouth briefly before she started to wave wildly at something they couldn’t see. “It’s him!” She spared Rumple a quick, joyous shout. “Rumple, it’s Bae! He’s waiting for me!” Disregarding the stones, she began to run. They watched her, waving and calling to her son as she slipped, stumbled and kept running, until she faded into the haze and they couldn’t make out her form any longer.

“It’s good,” Belle grinned. “I just—I can’t think of any other words for it. Good.”

“Yes,” Arthur agreed. “As many times as I’ve witnessed the transition, it never grows old. It will be that way for you too, Belle, when the time comes. Which, I’m hopeful, will be many years from now. After all, you have a job we need you to do.”

She linked her arm through her husband’s. “I promise I’ll never again forget that.”

“Thank you, Arthur. And them.” Rumple nodded toward the ceiling, suggesting the heavens. “My thanks to them. I promise to stay the course too.”

“Now that you have some idea where you’re supposed to go,” Belle added.

“For now, your path heads to Storybrooke,” Arthur nudged them toward his lobby. “I’ll walk you back to the boat.” As they left the office, he asked, “So who’s minding the baby while you’re here?”

“He’s in good hands,” Belle replied. “With our friend Mr. Dove.”

“Dove. Yes. I have a little secret I’m at liberty to share: your Mr. Dove is one of ours. Or more correctly, one of Aphrodite’s.”

Rumple raised his eyebrows. “Dove has been with me for years. Since I first moved into the Dark Castle.”

“He was sort of a promise that eventually, Aphrodite would be sending True Love your way.”

“Aphrodite put us together?” Belle practically shouted. “Rumple, did you hear that? The goddess of love wants us together!”

“Oh, more than her,” Arthur assured them as they walked out onto the street. “Zeus, Hera, they’re all behind this.” He waggled a finger between them to indicate he meant their relationship. “And behind them, the Fates. Fixing what the Black Fairy did. If she’d left well enough alone, you would’ve been the Lone Savior, Rumple. But since she didn’t and you followed the Darkness instead, the Fates knew you’d need a helpmate.” He grinned down at Belle. “A brave and very stubborn one.”

At the edge of the Styx, the silent Charon waited, standing in his boat. Arthur helped them board, then waved them off. “I look forward to seeing what you two do next. Goodbye, Golds, good luck and remember, if things get cloudy again, you can always pray.”

“Goodbye, Arthur.” They waved. “Thank you.”

——————————————

Dove was waiting for them on the porch, where he’d lulled Gideon to sleep in the swing. He glanced from one to the other, uncertain to whom to offer the baby as both parents were extending their arms; Belle won, but she offered to share her cuddling privileges. Rumple squeezed in close beside her and slipped one arm under hers under the baby. They took turns kissing pudgy cheeks.

“Safe journey?” Dove asked, hovering over them.

“It was,” Belle said. “Thank you for taking care of Gideon for us.”

“My pleasure. Always. I have a pot roast in the oven. I thought you might be too tired to cook. I have a 2009 Bordeaux to go with it. Would either of you like a glass now?”

“2009, a good year for Bordeaux,” Rumple mused. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Dove, I’d welcome a glass right now.” He rested his forehead against Belle’s. “2017, a good year for us. I hope.”

“I’m sure it will be,” she assured him as Dove went into the house. “We have lots of help now.”

“And a purpose,” he said thoughtfully. “I have a new—” He broke off as the familiar yellow Bug pulled into the driveway behind Dove’s Dodge. Reluctantly, he got to his feet to greet the new arrivals, with a small smile for the sheriff and a small frown for the man now wearing the deputy’s badge. “Sheriff Jones. Captain Jones.” He pointedly stared at the badge on Hook’s belt. “Is there trouble in town, Sheriff? Assembling a posse?”

Belle snickered, knowing that her Westerns-loving husband had always wanted to say a line like that.

“Just hiring a replacement for my dad.” Leaving the driver’s door open, Emma rested against the trunk of her car. “You might’ve heard, he and Mom bought a farm. We just finished helping them move.” She ran a hand through her sweaty ponytail. “Tiring day.”

“You look like you had a rough day too.” Hook mounted the stairs to dutifully admire the baby.

“We… just came back from a long trip,” Belle explained.

“Did you? I hope you had a pleasant journey?” He was fishing for details, but Belle wouldn’t provide them. Instead, she prompted, letting him hear the weariness in her voice, “What can we do for you, Killian?”

But Emma was the one to answer. She came forward with an envelope that she presented to Belle. “We won’t stay. We just wanted to drop this off.”

Her arms full of sleeping baby, Belle couldn’t accept the envelope, so Emma passed it on to Rumple. “It’s an invitation,” Hook explained. “We’ve having a dinner party tomorrow night. Nothing fancy.”

“We’re celebrating 30 days of uninterrupted peace and quiet,” Emma announced. “And our one-month anniversary. We’d like you to come.” There was just a slight hesitation as she touched Gideon’s cheek. Whether it was simple awkwardness around a newborn or whether Emma was remembering what this soul had threatened to do just a month ago, Belle wasn’t sure, but she was sure that in time, relationships would change and people would forgive.

She’d witnessed it just a few minutes ago, in the most miraculous way.

Rumple was reading the invitation intently, as if he had doubt about its veracity. He informed Belle, “It’s addressed to both of us. Six o’clock at Granny’s.” He stared at the invitation again, then peered at Emma, then at Hook, assessing them all.

“We want both of you,” Hook said. His body had tensed, as if he half-expected to get smacked in the head with a cane.

“All three of you,” Emma corrected. “It’s a family thing.”

Seemingly satisfied, Rumple suggested, “I have four bottles of Chianti that would go well with lasagna.”

Belle released a breath. “Rumple!”

“You’ll come, then?” Hook asked.

“For Gideon,” Rumple said softly to Belle. “He’s going to need to be accepted here. And for you, because you deserve a social life.” He lowered his voice even further. “And for me.”

“Because you need friends too,” Belle added.

Carrying a tray holding a bottle and three glasses, Dove elbowed his way out the stained-glass door. “Oh! Sheriff. Captain.” He set the tray down on a small table. “I’ll bring out more glasses, shall I?”

“We can’t stay—” Emma started, but Hook, with a meaningful glance at Rumple, corrected, “We could stay for one glass. If that’s all right.” He offered his hand toward his old rival. “I think it’s time we started to… .” He shrugged, unable to find a word to end his sentence.

“Fix things,” Rumple supplied.

“Yes, fix things, perhaps,” Belle agreed. She scooted over to make room on the swing. “Would you like to hold the baby, Emma?”

“I, ah, okay,” Emma seated herself and gingerly accepted the bundle.

Rumple filled the three available glasses and distributed them to his guests and his wife. As Dove came back with two more glasses, Rumple glanced at Belle, who seemed to understand what he was wondering; she nodded in encouragement. With feigned casualness, Rumple began as Dove poured him a glass of wine, “Belle and I saw Milah today.”

“Milah?!”

“She had a message for you.” Rumple gestured to the top step, inviting Hook to sit, as he seated himself there.

“Milah,” Hook echoed in amazement. “You went to the Underworld then.”

“Yes. Perhaps you’d like to hear about it.”

“I would, yes.” Hook sipped his wine. “I would.”

“I’d like to tell you,” Rumple said. “And, uh, another of the things we could talk about fixing, perhaps, is that hook.”

“You still have my left hand? But the curse on it?” The captain asked.

“That was just a joke,” Rumple admitted. “An impractical joke. Stop by the shop in the morning, if you like.”

“I think I’d like that.”

—————————————————–

“You gave Hook his hand back?” Archie nearly dropped his patient notes. “And you freed Milah, offering your own soul in return? Mr. Gold, I’m, I’m, I don’t know what to say!”

#darcyfarrow2005 #submission #a monthly rumbelling #june

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