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the-girl-in-the-box · 3 years

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Not Today XXII

A/N: So, this chapter will Definitely be getting a post, because I have a lot I really want to talk about with what happens at the end. I really REALLY enjoyed writing it, and also I have stuff I want to talk about with how I opened this chapter. However, so I don't spoil it, that will be its own post on my tumblr, and I will likely link it in the next update's A/N! Until then, I hope you enjoy reading tonight's update as much as I enjoyed writing it! Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

Something was coming. Something massive, something nervewracking, something dangerous. It rumbled in the ground, woke the camp, including Ivar and the Shieldmaiden who laid at his side. They sat up, looked around with concern in their eyes, and when Ivar’s eyes met hers, he nodded. Trouble was coming.

She hopped up and grabbed her sword from where it laid beside her, attached it to her hip, and then quickly got Ivar up and into his cart, drawing the curtains. If they were to be under attack, she didn’t want him being found and hurt. Though, as was expected of him, he tried to insist he could fight.

“We can handle this,” she argued. “Sit tight, stay quiet. We won’t let them hurt you.”

Ivar eventually nodded, and she let out a deep breath.

Once he was hidden, she turned and pulled her sword, a prayer for safety and survival, for herself and her companion, on her lips.

None of the mercenaries expected an army of men on horseback to come cantering down the path, and neither did she or Ivar. It wasn’t an overly long battle, with a majority of the mercenaries falling as soon as the army approached. Only one of the mercenaries, an old man with only one eye, survived, along with the Shieldmaiden herself. Or, the Prophet, as the mercenaries had taken to calling her.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes when she saw the way the man gave up fighting easily, clearly offering his help to the leader of this army. The fighting had stopped now, but she refused to let up the soldier she had on his knees, her sword at his neck.

The army’s leader noticed the seat Ivar was in, the way the curtains were drawn, and gestured for one of his men to check it out. Her heart pounding, the Shieldmaiden moved to intercept him, but this proved to be a mistake. The officer she’d taken down snatched his sword out of the snow and jumped up just as a knife came flying from between the curtains, landing in the approaching soldier’s eye, and he ran it through her shoulder.

She cried out in pain, catching Ivar’s attention long enough to distract him. This gave the nearest soldier time to pull him from his seat, and throw him to the ground. Seeing him lying there like that, at the mercy of these men, sent a shock of panic through the wounded woman’s heart, and against all better judgement, she tried to fight to get to him.

But, she was weakened from the injury she had sustained, and it didn’t take much for a soldier to hit her in the head with the end of his sword and disorient her, disarming her and throwing her down at Ivar’s side.

He turned and tried to stabilize her, not relenting until her eyes focused on his face. “Are you with me?” he questioned, and though she nodded, he didn’t accept that answer. “Speak,” he said. “Are you with me?”

“I’m with you,” she managed, and groaned in pain as she tried to situate herself better.

Neither of them had been paying attention to the One-Eyed Man speaking to the leader of the attackers in some language neither could understand, not until one word stood out they did know. Or, rather, one name: Ivar.

The Shieldmaiden was the first to look, hearing her King’s name mentioned, but she could make nothing else out, nothing else which might have helped. The leader soon began to laugh as he looked back to Ivar, and her eyes narrowed. He turned and said something to the One-Eyed Man, and Ivar hauled himself up into a sitting position, moving to ensure his Prophet rested back against him, to take some pressure from her wounded shoulder.

“What is he saying?” he asked the One-Eyed Man then. The man didn’t answer, only conversing briefly more before the leader threw a coin to him, having mounted onto a horse. “Who are these people?” Ivar tried again.

“Rus,” the One-Eyed Man now said, and grumbled, “Cheap bastards.

“It seems they don’t pay very well,” Ivar commented. “Where are they taking us?”

“To their capital,” the One-Eyed Man replied. “A place called Kiev.”

“Who is their ruler?”

“Prince Oleg, the Prophet.”

Ivar frowned sharply. Another prophet? He had given the wounded Shieldmaiden in his arms that title before they left Kattegat, and she had travelled under that epithet all the way along the Silk Road. Now, they found some Prince in Rus had claimed the title for himself as well? Ivar didn’t think this Prince would be half the prophet his was.

“The Prophet?” he questioned anyway. “Why the Prophet?” After all, he figured the more information they knew going into this place, the better.

The Rus commander, for they now knew him to be that, interrupted them by calling out to the pair, and both looked up at him from their place on the ground. One of the soldiers came and collected the Shieldmaiden, pulling her away from Ivar. She could only grunt as she was forced to her feet, and then a small cry left her. The soldier wasn’t being particularly gentle with her, which caused more blood than was needed to leak from the wound.

Ivar grimaced as the blood left a small trail through the pure white snow. The Rus commander spoke again to the One-Eyed Man, asked him a question, and the Commander laughed. A barked command to another soldier, and Ivar was carried off just as the Shieldmaiden was, tossed up unto a horse near her like a potato sack, and the soldier on that horse rode away. She was placed in front of a Rus soldier, who rode behind the one who carried Ivar. The two wished for nothing more than the chance to speak.

Fortunately, the journey to Kiev wasn’t an overly long one. The pair of Vikings- for truthfully, she had become one now- were dragged into the palace at the center of the city, led to its interior, and pushed into a room which seemed to be the throne room. A servant was currently hauling a body from the room, and the two were shoved to the ground, falling right into the puddle of blood there.

Ivar winced at the cry that left the injured woman at his side, and once he pushed himself up, managed to turn to check on her. Her face was pale, likely from the pain of the fall, and his eyes narrowed slightly. She needed medical attention.

It didn’t seem that was likely to come soon, as the Commander and the man who stood by the throne, who Ivar could only assume was Prince Oleg himself, were busy communicating in their own tongue. Ivar had to bite his to keep himself from demanding help for his Shieldmaiden.

The man finally turned, looked down at the two on the ground before him, and he smirked a little. Apparently, the Commander had given him some important information, because he spoke in Ivar’s language when he finally addressed them.

“You cannot walk,” he said. “Are you both wounded?” He could see from the way the woman held her hand to her shoulder, the way the blood seeped through it, that she was, but the way the man laughed so bitterly at his question, he assumed that was not the case.

“No,” Ivar answered. “I’m a cripple. From birth. But she needs assistance.”

The Rus man nodded and spoke again to the Commander, who ducked out of the room. “She will have it,” he told Ivar.

Satisfied, Ivar nodded, and commented, “You speak our language.”

“It was once the language of my people, too,” the man replied. “We are Rus Vikings.” He was silent for a moment, before asking, “What do they call you two?”

“My name is Ivar,” he said, taking off his hat now they were inside. “They call me Ivar the Boneless. And she is-”

“Asta.”

Ivar’s eyes widened as he heard the name he called her just the night before be claimed, and he looked to her with that shock registered on his face.

“I am Asta the Prophet.”

He’d never imagined that she had heard him, and he realized with a sickening sort of dread that she must have heard all of what he said before then. His mind was taken from that by a medic entering the room, beginning to work on her shoulder, and the look of hostility in her eyes when the man carelessly pulled the sleeve of her shirt down, exposing her shoulder and much of the surrounding skin to everyone in the room.

“I’ve heard of you,” the man Ivar assumed was Oleg said. “Ivar… the Boneless.” He pointed the axe in his hand at Ivar, then swung it toward the newly named Asta. “And his Prophet.” He chuckled, lowering the axe and moving to sit down. “Your fame has travelled along the Silk Road. Like honey, beeswax, furs, and slaves… But why do you travel along it now? Without announcing yourselves, like thieves… Hm?”

“I lost my kingdom,” Ivar said. “To my brothers. I am nothing, and I have nothing to offer you, Prince Oleg.” The lack of correction confirmed the man’s identity for them both. “It was not my intention to trouble you with our presence.”

“Then where were you going?” Oleg asked.

“Nowhere,” Ivar replied plainly. “We have no plans. We are simply fleeing the retribution of my brothers.”

“Well,” Oleg began after a few moments of silence. “You are here, now. Who knows if your presence will trouble me?” Ivar looked up at him slowly as he came down from the dais. “Let us see.”

When the medic was done with her, Ivar and the Shieldmaiden were both hauled out of the room, taken up further into the castle, and shoved into one of the bedchambers there. They remained in silence once Ivar situated himself at a window, and she began to pace. Clearly, the medic had helped her quite a bit.

After a while, Ivar found it eating at him just a bit too much, and so he looked up at her, watched her pace for a moment, and then asked, “Asta?”

She paused in her pacing and turned to look at him, just as if he had called the name he’d called so many times before that day. “Hm?” she prompted.

“Where did you hear that name?” he questioned.

“From you,” she said with a small chuckle. “Don’t know if you meant me to or not, but… I needed something that wasn’t my given name. I don’t know if my brother knows yet I’ve left Kattegat, but if that news has travelled the Silk Road, and they learned who I really was…? I can’t imagine the ransom letter would find Alfred very pleased.” Ivar gave a hum of satisfaction, seemingly agreeing with what she said. Until, that was, she added, “That, and I sort of like it, actually. Feels… right.”

“Feels right?” he repeated. “Do you mean to keep it, then?”

She clearly weighed something in her mind, almost seeming to be tossing something around, before she looked back to him with a small smile, and nodded. “Think I will,” she said. “At least for now, unless I decide it doesn’t fit me any longer.”

Ivar nodded, and tested the name out again now he knew it was going to be hers for the considerable future, and she smiled at hearing him say it.

“Sounds just as good as when I heard it last night,” she teased.

Asta walked over to the window he was sitting in, not quite noticing the way he watched her move across the room, certainly not noticing the slight darkening in his cheeks at her quip, and she sat across from him, settling in and getting comfortable as she watched the people move around Kiev’s markets.

“It suits you,” Ivar confessed, and she turned to him curiously.

“Does it?” she questioned. “What’s it mean, anyway?”

Ivar shrugged, looking back out the window. “Just an old Viking name,” he lied.

How could he tell her what it meant, that the name had slipped out as he realized just what she meant to him? The word ást, from which the name was derived, was used to describe love as a thing, as something real, as a place, or perhaps a person. It was used to describe the thing one saw love reflected in, and so for him to have used that name in speaking to her…

The Bishop Heahmund had once mentioned the different forms of love, and the one called agape. He had described it as something unconditional, the sort of love that apparently, the Christian God felt for humanity. Ivar, of course, had his own thoughts about what sort of gods looked over this world, but that term had come to his mind just before he had uttered the name Asta. If anyone deserved the name, he figured now, it was someone who had proven to him the existence of such love.

But Ivar was, if nothing else, a very stubborn man, and so he kept those thoughts locked tightly within himself, drawn only from them when he heard Asta sigh quietly. He turned his eyes to look at her once more.

“If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine it’s Kattegat,” she confessed softly. He gave a quiet hum in response.

“We should speak your language here, when we can.” Asta looked at him confusedly, wondering what exactly had brought this on. “They can speak mine,” he clarified. “Wessex is over halfway across the world from here. I doubt they understand the Saxon language. We don’t need them to understand every word we say.”

She nodded then. “Right,” she agreed. “We mean to escape, then?”

“Unless Oleg has anything to offer us, yes,” he answered. It felt strange to her, to hear him speak in the Saxon tongue again after so many months- almost a year, now- of having heard him speak in his own. It made her giggle a little.

“Yours is a little… unused,” she said, and he gave a good-natured roll of his eyes, before rolling his body over to crawl to the ground. “Where are you going?”

“To see how free we are around here,” he answered her. He crawled over to the door, and threw it open, only to be met by a Rus guard standing on the other side. Asta smirked amusedly at the way Ivar grinned at him, and then jumped back as the door was slammed shut in his face. “Prisoners, then,” he surmised, and nodded. “That is most unfortunate.”

Asta gave a soft laugh, and he crawled back over to her. “I could think of worse people to be imprisoned here with,” she quipped. He cracked a small grin at her.

“As could I,” he agreed. As he pulled himself back up to sit across from her, he teased, “Tell me, great Prophet Asta, what do you see for us here, hm?”

Asta couldn’t help but giggle at his question, and she angled her body more toward him. “We’re entering a time of healing,” she joked, gesturing toward her shoulder. “This is our time to take life a little slower, to experience new things, to…” She looked out the window once again, and grew thoughtful. “Perhaps to build a new life.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Ivar tilt his head a little, not quite understanding her meaning, so she explained. “We have a chance to just… live here,” she said. “If we earn Oleg’s trust, we could have a life here, you know? Once he releases us.” Her eyes turned back to Ivar now, a small smile on her lips. “Wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Maybe the rest of the world would miss us, if we just settled down here, but I’d be alright with that if it meant we could be happy. You know what I mean?”

Ivar couldn’t help the small smile that played at the corners of his lips as he watched the sort of far off look in her eye. He could guess that she was imagining a simpler life, one where maybe they were just… normal people, whatever that meant. “I’m starting to,” he confessed. “My father always said there was no purpose in trying to be happy. Life wasn’t about that.” She looked at him a little sadly, though the smile didn’t leave her lips. “But we have both suffered enough, I think, to let us consider a way we could be happy here.”

The sadness left her then, and she looked down into the market. “We’d have to make money, somehow,” she said. “Not sure what I could do to earn a living. Don’t see many shieldmaiden types down there.” Ivar hummed his agreement. “My mother taught me to paint. I could paint portraits, perhaps, sell those?”

“You know how to paint?” Ivar asked, now looking at her curiously. “I thought that tended to be left to your priests.”

Asta laughed and nodded. “It usually is,” she confirmed. “Illumination, that is. But my mother wanted to learn, just before Alfred took his pilgrimage to Rome. My grandfather had a monk brought from Paris, if you can believe it, to teach her. He was the only one who would.” Ivar chuckled a little as she did, watching how she shook her head in disbelief. “Rather than going through that struggle for me again, when I decided I wanted to learn, as Father Prudentius was the one who took Alfred and my father to Rome, she taught me.”

She decided to take a risk, then, knowing there was a solid chance this wouldn’t go over well with Ivar. But, there was a chance they could have a new life there in Rus, if they decided to work toward the little fantasy they were indulging in. If this was going to happen, she wanted Ivar to know the truth.

“She used to tell me about my father, then,” she said softly. Ivar felt the shift in her voice, the way it just barely shook with a quiet anxiety. He sensed a confession coming, and he was right. “Aethelwulf wasn’t my birth father. He was a father in all other meaning to me, just not by blood.” She took a deep breath, but before he could ask, she said, “My birth father was Athelstan, the monk your father took from Lindisfarne.”

His eyes widened at the revelation. Even if he hadn’t ever known the man that well, he knew the story, knew everything Floki had told him about the Christian Priest. “I think I must find myself in the same place he once did,” she continued, before Ivar had much time to question what he was learning. And truthfully, it was good that it happened this way. The more he learned at once, the less he would have time to second guess.

“I hold to my Christian convictions,” she said. “The things I was taught as I grew up, the things I came to understand through the many discussions I had with the Bishop Heahmund, who I know you once knew as well. But just as that is true, it is just as true that I feel most at home with your people, that my home is no longer in England. I can no longer offer my loyalty to a Saxon king, as I find I have become fiercely loyal to a Viking one instead.”

Every promise she had ever made to him went through his mind in that moment as she smiled at him again, if it were possible, and he found himself almost unable to make the Athelstan she spoke of, and the one Floki had spoken of, the same man in his mind, though he knew they must have been. “My mother told me my father loved your father more than anyone. Each time the choice was given to him, he chose your father, and your people, over his ancestral home. He even left her to return to Kattegat, and so… I never met him.”

“Do you think things would be very different, had you known him? That… perhaps you would not have come with me?” Ivar asked her. From the look on his face, it might have been obvious to some who knew him well that he was almost worried. It also might have been obvious he was trying to hide this. So, she gave a small shrug.

“I’ll never know,” she said. “Life didn’t work out in the right way for me to know. And truthfully?”

They locked eyes again as she said, “I’ve finally come to make peace with that, I think. I’ll never know him, not until I have also passed from this world, and I’m in no rush to do so. Before, when I was dissatisfied with my life, I used to wish with all I had that he’d not left for Kattegat so soon, that I could have known him before he returned to your father’s side there. I used to wonder if I could have convinced him to let me join him there. But now?”

Ivar found himself shocked again when she leaned forward and reached for his hand, letting her fingers wrap gently around his. It pulled him from all the thoughts and concerns the revelation about her lineage had brought, and made him focus on her. “I’m too happy with where I am to wish things were different in my past. Perhaps I would have met you sooner,” she said. “I would have still come with you. In fact, as many times as my father left to be with yours, it would have only encouraged me in the decision I made.” She chuckled a little, biting her lip as she looked up at him. “Of course, there is also the possibility that if I had grown up with my father in Kattegat, you may have hated me as the daughter of the Christian priest, and only because of how we met and how we have come to know each other, is there no hatred between us.”

Ást. That word entered his mind again as he saw her smiling at him, felt her hand in his. He knew she was joking, but yet, something made him bring her hand up to his lips and kiss the back of it. “Hatred can never take the place of love,” he said sincerely, and the way she lit up...

He would have conquered the Nine Realms if it meant seeing her smile so brightly again.

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#ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #vikings #vikings history #history channel vikings #not today #chapter twenty-two #ivar's heathen army #ivar ragnarsson #alex hogh andersen #ivar x ofc #ivar x original female character #ivar x christian!oc

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targaryenimagines · 4 years

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Fractured: Part One

Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Lannister!Reader

Word Count: 3,874

Summary: You have known for quite some time that Westeros was in dire need of help. You just didn't know how soon that need for help would arrive. Or how catastrophic the circumstances would be to cause it.

Warnings: None that I can think of.

Note: I have shifted some things in canon to better compensate with this story. I hope that's alright with all of you, and everything regarding that will be explained throughout the series.

Tagged: @schroedingershund

Oh how the mighty have fallen, your mind scoffs as you stare at the decrepit wooden surface in front of you. You could see every minute imperfection as if it was laid bare for your eyes only. That every fissure and crack was specifically put there so you would be able to gaze upon them. To keep your mind from the numbing spiral it had been begging to go in since you went into the carriage.

You could hear your uncle and Varys whispered conversation. Their words are a soft croon against the buzzing of your static filled mind. However even the softest of noise could become an insistent bother the longer you were exposed to it. A fact that you only became more aware of the longer you were exposed. Closing your eyes you try to ignore the throbbing of your head and the desolate beat of your heart.

You tried to ignore the memories that were surfacing the further away you got from Westeros.

Away from your home.

Nothing could stop the memories from festering however. Nothing could stop them from worming their way through your mind. Trapping you in an endless loop without any hope to escape. You could still remember the safety you felt in your mother’s arms and how quickly that had been ripped away. The betrayal on her face as you stood in front of your uncle, protecting him from Joffrey’s tyrannical rule. You remember the way her green eyes glazed over with grief as she stared at you. Her eyes dimmed to an almost jade color, so different from the emerald they normally were. The stark contrast had caused a shiver to run down your spine, because in that moment you weren’t mother and daughter staring at one another. You were two enemies finally revealing themselves to each other.

You could still remember the sight of your siblings staring at you with tear stricken faces. Tommen moved to approach you before he was stopped by Jaime. Myrcella simply sobbing as you were pulled away from her. Her hands reaching out to clasp yours before they too were ripped away. You could still remember the cold fury that had worked its way onto Joffrey’s face. His thirst for death and destruction had destroyed the very foundations of the Lannister family.

You could still remember the moment you knew your life was going to change. The feel of the wind on your body as you watched Ned Stark get beheaded. The pain in your chest at the sight, and sound, of his daughter's pain. A daughter that, you must admit, had become a great friend. You can still remember her painfilled sobs as her father’s body was tossed to the side. Little regard being shown to the greatest man you had ever met. The sight of Joffrey smirking cruelly at her and your mother doing nothing to stop him. It was a sight that had set everything into motion. It was a sight that had finally caused you to detach yourself from your family. From the horror that was Westeros. From the pain that the land constantly seemed to cause.

It was the sight that had caused you to denounce your claim to the throne.

For you know that you would never be able to do what you have been planning to do if you were the ruler. There would be too many eyes on you at all times to be able to get away with it, but if you stayed the princess? You would be able to come and go as you please while all eyes were on Joffrey. Even your mother didn’t notice that you were gone for the majority of the day. For if she did you know that you would have been in trouble long before now. A fact that filled you with a cold sense of dread, but you quickly shook it off. She was miles and miles away from you and you would probably never see her again. At least not for quite some time anyway.

Your plan was underway and nothing would stop you from completing it.

You were going to bring the Targaryen’s back to Westeros.

Even if it killed you in the process.

A thought that would normally cause fear to run down your spine, but only brought with it a grim determination. You refused to have the land, well the people, you love get destroyed by the ones that were supposed to be protecting them. You refused to stand aside as your family destroyed everything that Westeros used to stand for. You refused to be the good little princess that you had been expected to be for your entire life.

It was time to be like your namesake.

You wouldn’t be the sheep any longer. The lost little lamb searching for warmth and affection.

You were going to be the lioness that so many believed you could never be. It was time to bring Fire and Blood back to Westeros.

Even if you had to hear the lion roar in pain because of it.

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The heat of the sun on your back is stifling as you sit in the slow moving boat. Your body wedged against that of your uncles with your hands bound in front of you. The glare of the sun off the water almost making it impossible to see the man that sat before you. The man that had taken you captive in the first place. A man that held a name of some importance to you for it stirred the faint feeling of recollection. As if the man had made some impact in someone else's life, but you had only felt the ripples of said effects.

Jorah Mormont was an enigma to you in every single way. You know that he was a “spy” for Robert, and that he had defected after learning new things about his target. That same target now being yours, but you had no plans of ever deceiving her in any way. You need her on your side if your plan is going to work, and it’s only for the betterment of your country. For your people. They need a Targaryen to lead them because no one else can.

They need Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen as their queen, and you were going to make sure that it happened.

Your thoughts only cause your head to start aching more. A fact that doesn’t surprise you in the slightest.

Closing your eyes, to dull the pain, causes your other senses to compensate for the sudden loss. You could hear the soft whisper of the water against the hull. Feeling the give and take the water has with the vessel. Wanting to slow it down but the boat being too resistant to be hindered by the effort. You could smell the hint of ash in the air that still lingered from the ruins of Valyria around you. It was like incense with how powerful the scent became the longer you were in the confines of the once great nation. Even after the worst of it went away it still lingered all the same. Reminding you of its presence no matter where you were.

Opening your eyes you turn your gaze towards your uncle. His dual colored orbs meeting your emerald with unwavering devotion. He was the only family that you had left, at least the only family that wanted you. You can only muster up half a smile for him, and even then you’re sure that it’s a pitiful attempt, but the way his smile only grows causes your heart to warm. As long as you had him by your side you know that you would be okay, and that nothing would come to harm you.

You were about to speak when you heard the sounds of the air being disturbed above you. Without a second thought your gaze is turned towards the sky where a sight you would have never thought to see flies before you. A dragon, with scales the color of obsidian and blood, passes overhead with little regard to the humans below. Your breath catching as it passes underneath the sun and its scale glow ethereally.

When you were younger you always loved the stories that Tyrion would tell you about dragons, and the mighty power that was Valyria. How Aegon the Conqueror was able to do all that he did because of Balerion. The sheer might that the great behemoth had to impose on all those that stood between his rider and the throne. Now seeing what you were sure would be a great dragon once grown reminds you of all those stories. Of Aegon and his sister wives taking over the once divided country, and it gives you a new wave of hope. Because, there was no doubt in your mind on who that dragons rider was. You had no doubt that Daenerys Targaryen would do her ancestors proud, and do things they would never be able to do.

You had no doubt that she was what Westeros needed.

------

Your muscles groan under the strain you were putting onto them. An ache beginning in the very bone as you continued moving, but you refused to stop. Refused to meet your uncle's concerned gaze as you continued to move down the dirt path. Even though your entire body was begging you to stop and rest, you refused. You were too close to your goal to stop now.

You know that if it were any other time then you would be admiring the architecture that surrounded you. You had always wanted to visit Essos and see first hand the beautiful architecture that had influenced Westeros.

But, it wasn’t any other time and you weren’t a wide eyed child anymore.

You feel your body tense at the hand that suddenly appears on your forearm. Fighting every instinct to throw it off and protect yourself. You know that it was only your uncle and that he was simply concerned, but you couldn’t get those things out of your mind. You weren’t sure you could even call them human. Not with the way they had been behaving with an almost psychotic frenzy. You could still feel the way the body had canted towards you. Its eyes a frenzied brown amid the gray that had taken over. So stark against the expanse of rotten skin that it had caused you to freeze. Your mind trying to connect the being that had been charging towards you with a human being. If it wasn’t for Jorah the beast would have grabbed you, touched you, and, with a shudder, you remember what happens to all those that are touched by a being with grayscale. Your only hope is that Jorah is all right, because you wouldn’t know what you would do if he got the disease because of you.

A soft voice breaks you out of your reverie, its tone filled with concern. “Maybe you should rest, little one.” You didn’t have to turn to know that your uncle was staring at you with a worried filled gaze. You know that he had every right to be worried, but you needed to keep going. Your people and your homeland depended on it.

“I’ll be fine, uncle, don’t worry about me,” you respond, after a beat of silence, hoping that your voice came out with the cool nonchalance you had been striving for.

You can tell that your uncle is about to speak once more, but you’re saved by Jorah’s gruff voice. “We should be arriving soon. You both remember the plan, right?”

Closing your eyes, you nod, and hold out your hands for the shackles. Your body is already stiff at the thought of being bound again. Remembering exactly what happened after the last time, but you don’t voice your fears. You know this needed to happen because you couldn’t appear to be a threat. You couldn’t seem like you were just waltzing into her territory, her domain. You had to be offered, like chattel, to show that your intentions were pure. You just hope that it wouldn’t end with your head on a spike.

“For what its worth, I’m sorry,” Jorah says, softly, as he chains you. The cool embrace of metal meeting your skin in a familiar hold. You can only muster up a strained smile in response, but it seemed to be enough to satisfy him. And, you have to remind yourself that he was in the same boat you were in. That he was trying to prove himself to Daenerys again, and this was one of the ways he can do so. You shouldn’t judge him too harshly on his actions because you aren’t sure you wouldn’t do the same.

He also saved your life. Don’t forget that, your mind whispers, and you internally scoff. Like you would forget the fact that he saved you. Saved you from a fate worse than death in some regards. You watch as the man moves to your uncle’s side. Both of them speaking in low voices that you couldn’t quite understand. You know that you should feel annoyed that you’re being left out of the loop but you couldn’t bring yourself to be. Whether it was because you were too tired or because you just didn’t care alludes to you, but you do know that you would be getting your answers soon.

You follow, without a word, as Jorah brings you to a tunnel that seems to have had its fair share of use. You could tell by the way the stone had weathered away by both the elements and footsteps. Unfortunately there was no escaping the odor that seemed to exude from it. Your nose wrinkles of its own accord when hit by the full presence of it. The smell of body odor and blood causes your stomach to churn. Bile making its way up your throat before you’re able to constrict it. Closing your eyes you try to reign in the nausea that the place invoked in you. You would have to get used to these smells. Even though you wanted nothing more than to scrub your skin raw as you felt them leaking into your pores. You didn’t want to even imagine how horrible you may smell.

Feeling a gentle tug on the chains binding your arms you open your eyes. Meeting Jorah’s gaze you can see the compassion he has for you, but you can also see the intent within the light blue too. Offering a small smile in return you begin to move down the hall. Your eyes watering slightly as the stench only grows worse, but you persevere because you were so close to your goal. You weren’t about to give up now because you couldn’t handle the scent of your surroundings.

From where you were standing you could hear the distant clangs of metal. The muffled sounds of men’s grunts and cries as metal met flesh. They were sounds that you were used to, but they were different all the same. Where in Westeros it was controlled, cordial, here the cries were barbaric. They were taunting, their intent clear.

Turning your head you could see the way your uncle was trying to process your new surroundings. His eyes travelling the length of the corridor and towards the sunlight you could see faintly streaming through the opening. The opening was where the sounds were spilling out from. Along with the barred window on the side of the corridor that allowed you to see what was happening.

The sounds didn’t prepare you for the sight of what you saw.

Men, of all shapes and sizes, were clashing together. Their bodies throwing themselves at each other with their blades brandished. Deep set snarls curling their mouths as they fought relentlessly. Bodies falling haphazardly on the ground, their blood getting lost amid the mud. You could see that a crowd of people were watching, cheering. Their eyes filled with a primal desire to see more bloodshed. Scanning the crowd you’re finally able to see the dais where the most important person in the crowd must sit.

Daenerys.

Even though you couldn’t see her you were well aware of her presence. She was like a beacon of light amid the crowd, and you were the moth. Drawn to the flame that only she could provide. To the comfort and warmth that she could give to Westeros. You just hope that by the end of this meeting you’re not one of the many bodies lying in the mud.

Feeling Jorah move beside you, you watch as she attaches your chains to the wall. The restriction causes your body to move towards the bench that lined the wall. Feeling the rough stone digging into you causes you to shift, but you make no sound of protest. You only watch as Jorah does the same to your uncle, and then he simply stares through the opening. Watching as man after man falls to the ground. Clearly waiting for the time that he would be able to approach his Khaleesi.

However, what you weren’t expecting was for Jorah to suddenly stiffen. His gaze sharpens as he watches the final match. A younger boy trying to crawl away from the lumbering man behind him. The desperation in his movement is a clear indicator for his want for survival. You barely have time to react before Jorah grabs the helmet that was resting beside your thigh and rushes out. Your uncle standing with clear outrage and panic, which you could understand. If Jorah were to die you were sitting ducks. There would be no one there to vouch for you, and you know that Daenerys would sooner kill you then hear you out. Especially when you were the child of the very man that had started a rebellion that killed her entire family. Meeting his gaze you know that you had to break the chains that were binding you both to the wall. You couldn’t just be led to your execution like prized chattel, if you were going to die you were going to go out with dignity. You were going to face your executioner head on. Better Daenerys than your mother.

Trying with all your might you search for something that could file down the chains. Your eyes search desperately around your surroundings. Hearing the sound of metal being shaved behind you causes your head to snap towards your uncle. Seeing a dagger in his hand causes a brief flash of amusement to dance through your eyes. Of course, your uncle would have a secret weapon just in case things went south. Hearing the sounds of the fight escalating causes your body to tense. You didn’t know how well Jorah was doing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care that much. Not when your uncle's life was on the line. You watch silently as he tries to file through your chains, but without any luck. It would take days at the rate the metal was chipping away. A feeling of despair was slowly working its way through your body. Your mind flashing through everything that has brought you here. Every trial and tribulation that you had gone through to reach this goal.

Only to fail when you’re barely a few meters away from her, your mind taunts, and you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut. Trying to stop the tears from forming, because now was not the time to cry. Hearing footsteps moving towards you causes your eyes to snap open. Your head whipping towards the source of the noise. You could feel the way your eyes widen at the sight of the man that stands before you. The way that your uncle stiffens behind you, and the way the chains tighten when he tries to move in front of you. The horror that fills your body as the man raises his sword above his head.

You brace yourself for the incoming attack, but are only met with the sound of shattering metal. The feeling of weightlessness on your wrists as the chains were cut free. Meeting the man’s gaze you could do nothing but nod in thanks. Something that you were sure your uncle mirrored, and without another thought you made your way towards the opening.

Reaching it you could hear the faint sounds of a conversation taking place. Before a fiery voice breaks through. “Get him out of my sight.”

You watch as men move to grab Jorah, and he desperately tries to shake them off. His eyes and words pleading with Daenerys to see reason. “Khaleesi, please, I just need a moment of your time. I brought you a gift. Two in fact.”

You could tell that things were about the head south if you and your uncle didn’t act fast. Moving out of the safety of the opening you make your forward. Acutely aware of your bound wrists and your uncle’s presence at your side. Your uncle speaking to break the stifling silence of the arena.

“It’s true. He has.”

Finally, you were standing in front of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. You could feel your heart pounding against your chest. The stories of her beauty didn’t do her justice. The white of her dress contrasted perfectly with her fair skin. Causing it to glow under the Essos sun. Her silvery-gold hair seemed to shine with an ethereal light. Framing her beautiful face and causing her cheekbones to stand out. Her violet eyes were cool and assessing as she stared at both you and your uncle. With bated breath you watch as she seems to deliberate on your sudden appearance.

“Who are you?”

The question was asked innocently enough, but the answers held the weight of a thousand suns. You watch as your uncle steps forward, making sure that he was in front of you, before answering.

“I am one of the gifts. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. My name is Tyrion Lannister, and the beautiful lass behind me is my niece. The crown princess of Westeros.”

Utter silence falls after your uncle’s words, and you simply stand straighter because of it. While it may not be necessarily true anymore you would be damned if you would embarrass your uncle. You can see the way that Daenerys had stiffened at the news, and reveal of your birthright. Clearly seeing you as an adversary, and you know you didn’t want that. At all.

Stepping forward you begin to speak, lowering your head while doing so. Making sure that she was being shown the respect that she deserved. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. I mean no harm to you or your claim on the Iron Throne. In fact I have come here to help you achieve that goal. The only question I have is will you let me?”

Looking up you’re met with steely violet, and a ball of dread forming in your gut. You know that you were putting your life into the hands of a wild card, but if it was for the betterment of Westeros? You would do it over and over again.

No matter what.

#daenerys targaryen imagine #daenerys au #daenerys imagine #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #daenerys targaryen x reader #daenerys x reader #queen daenerys #fractured part one

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ddixons-angel · 4 years

Text

Fated: Season 4

Summary: Gloria Rhee narrowly escapes Atlanta with her brother as the outbreak reaches the city. Luckily, they find a camp outside the city and together, they fend through encounters with the living and undead.

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence (the typical TWD stuff)

A/N: And we’re finally here! This chapter was hard to write haha mainly because I had ideas in my head but I didn’t know how to properly execute them? I actually extended the ending of the chapter because I didn’t like how I left it off, hope you guys enjoy it!

Chapter 6

Gloria was backed up against the wall, walkers surrounding her as the chair legs she used before had broken at all the contact with walker skulls. She leans against the wall as she lifts her leg and pushes away a walker with a kick, making it tumble back into a few others. This gave her time and clearance to search for something else to use as a weapon. Gloria glances to the side and reaches down to grab the crowbar and candelabra that lay on the ground. She fought the walkers best while she was dual wielding; she needed to kill all of them and quick. She felt herself growing weaker as blood spilled out from the stab wound in her abdomen.

Letting her adrenaline take over, she swipes at each walker, stabbing and jabbing them each in the head swiftly. The walkers that she killed fell at her feet, eventually creating a barrier from the other walkers. After what felt like hours of stabbing but was only a matter of minutes, Gloria had cleared the herd of walkers that made it into the cabin. She limps her way to the door and closes it to prevent any others from coming in. Her vision starts to get blurry, she drops the weapons she’s holding and her hand goes to the stab wound.

“No... I’m not dying here...” Gloria tells herself, but she falls to the ground as her legs give way.

She breathes heavily then a faint smile pulls at her lips as she spots her bag strewn across the cabin. Gloria grunts as she crawls her way to the bag, knowing she has some medical supplies in her bag in case of emergency. Once her hand touches a strap of her bag, she pulls it towards her, going through the contents until she finds a pack of gauze and bandages. Gloria makes herself sit up, leaning against the wall, she lifts up her now blood soaked shirt and presses the gauze on her wound. The originally white material now a deep dark red. She tosses the used gauze to the side and takes out more gauze, layering it together with the bandage to be more effective in soaking up the blood and hopefully to stop the bleeding.

It seemed to be working as the gauze and bandage combination didn’t soak through with blood. Keeping it pressed to her wound, Gloria takes her jacket that was in her bag out and ties it tightly around her torso, groaning at the pain this was causing but she needed to hold the gauze in place. Still feeling weak from all the lost blood, she leans her head back on the wall as she breathes heavily. Her vision starts to blur again, eyes threatening to close but she shakes her head to keep from losing consciousness.

“Tracks lead here.” Gloria hears a muffled voice from outside the cabin, she knows that voice; Daryl.

“You think she’s in there?” another voice, Glenn.

“Only one way to find out.” Rick.

Glenn makes his way to the door of the cabin, Rick on the other side of the door frame with a knife in hand, Daryl right in front with his crossbow up and loaded. Rick nods to Glenn to open the door and he barges in. They all take in the massacre of walkers as they file into the cabin. Movement catches the corner of Daryl’s eye and he snaps his head to the side.

“Gloria!” Daryl calls out dropping his crossbow as he dashes to her bloody body, checking for any bites, only to find the cuts on her arms and chest and the stab wound in her torso, “hey, you’re gonna be okay, a’right? I’m here, I’ll bring ya back and Hershel’ll patch ya up.”

A faint smile ghosts Gloria’s lips as she nods at his words. Glenn looks at Gloria with a pained expression as Daryl picks her up bridal style, causing Gloria to groan in pain as the movement affects her wound.

“Sorry...” Daryl mutters as he carries her out of the cabin.

Glenn wipes his eyes then packs up Gloria’s bag as Maggie picks up one of Gloria’s daggers from the ground. Carol finds the other one and frowns as she notices that it’s covered in blood. Carol, Maggie and Glenn leave the cabin after retrieving Gloria’s things as well as Daryl's crossbow from the ground and Rick takes one last look around the cabin before leaving.

---

On their way back to the prison, Gloria had fallen out of consciousness as Daryl carried her. Carl followed the others back into the main building after letting them in and making sure the gate was locked. Glenn frantically called out for Hershel once he got into the building, letting the older man know that Gloria was seriously injured. He and Daryl followed Hershel to the infirmary as the others stayed out in the main area outside the cell blocks. Carol eyed Nina warily as she didn’t miss the look of horror on her face when she saw that they had brought Gloria back.

Gloria was now resting in her and Daryl’s shared cell after Hershel had tended to her injuries. Daryl sat on the bed beside her, his hand holding hers and his eyes never leaving her. Glenn was crouched outside the cell, leaning against the wall with his head in his hands. Rick was on the lower level of the cell block, tending to Judith. Maggie was in the kitchen area helping Carol with dinner for everyone.

“C’mon girl...” Daryl mumbles as he lifts Gloria’s hand to his lips, gently kissing her hand.

It had only been a few hours since they brought her back but Daryl was getting anxious and impatient. He felt his heart stop when he saw her back in the cabin; her face was pale, drenched in sweat and blood, both her own and of all the walkers she’d killed. It was the first time he’d ever seen her so weak and frail and it scared the fuck out of him. Even the sight of her now resting on the bed scared him. She had bandages all over her, wrapping her arms and a patch on her chest. Although Hershel told him that she would be fine, his fear of losing her wouldn’t go away until she woke up.

“She hasn’t woken up yet?” Maggie asks Glenn outside the cell as she peers inside with Carol beside her.

Glenn looks up at her and glances behind his shoulder, taking in Daryl’s form as a negative and shakes his head, “no...”

Maggie frowns and hands Glenn a bowl of stew which he takes and smiles softly at her, nodding at her as a thank you. Carol walks into the cell with a bowl of stew for Daryl.

“Daryl, here.” Carol says, handing him the bowl.

He glances at her then looks back at Gloria and shakes his head, “‘m okay.”

“No, you’re not. You have to eat something, Daryl.” Carol urges.

“How d’ya expect me to eat when she’s like this?!” Daryl says, irritated, looking up at Carol.

He didn’t mean to snap at her, but he couldn’t help it. Carol sighs softly as she takes in Daryl’s face, his eyes puffy with tears.

“She’ll wake up, and when she does, she’s going to need you to be strong for her. And you can only stay strong if you eat. You can’t starve yourself for as long as she’s out.” Carol lectures him, urging him to take the bowl again.

Daryl stares at the bowl, hesitant to take it. He knew Carol was right, he needed to eat to stay strong, but his body couldn’t.

“She’s right...” a weak whisper sounds from Gloria’s lips.

Daryl whips his head back right when he hears the sound. Gloria’s eyes were open, looking sleepy, but still open as she smiles softly at him. Carol lets out a silent breath of relief then goes out of the cell to let Glenn and Maggie know she’d woken up.

“Hey, hey... how ya feelin’?” he asks gently as he caresses her cheek.

“Never been better.” Gloria chuckles weakly.

“Sis?!” Glenn calls out as he rushes into the cell, tears well up in his eyes as relief washes over him when he sees her awake.

“Hey, bro.” she greets in a soft voice.

“You’re such a little trooper.” Carol cooes as she goes over to her side and gently strokes Gloria’s hair.

Gloria smiles at the affection then tries to push herself to sit up, seeing this, Daryl and Carol help her up slowly. She winces and hisses at the tug on her abdomen then relaxes when she’s in a sitting position, leaning against the wall.

“Ya okay?” Daryl asks, still holding her hand.

She nods, but before she can say anything else, Maggie had brought Rick and Hershel to the cell. She waves weakly at them as she sees them in the doorway. Maggie chuckles and waves back, tears brimming her eyes. Hershel walks into the cell.

“Do you mind if I check on you?” he asks, mainly asking Daryl for permission.

Taking the sign, Daryl reluctantly lets go of her hand and gets up from the bed, letting Hershel take over. He stands beside Glenn who had already stepped aside to give Hershel more room. Glenn pats Daryl’s arm and they both nod at each other in acknowledgement. Rick comes to his side and gives him a look of reassurance and Daryl nods at him too.

“Good news is there’s no sign of infection and you don’t have a fever, bad news is...” Hershel looks at her and pauses.

The others feel tense at the vet’s last words, Gloria furrows her brows in confusion as she recognizes a hint of playful twinkle in Hershel’s eyes.

“Lizzie took the last lollipop.” Hershel smiles warmly at her.

Gloria groans playfully, “I wanted the cherry one.”

Another wave of relief overcomes the others as they chuckle at the joke between both doctors.

“Get some more rest and let me or Caleb know if you start feeling unwell.” Hershel says as he pats her knee.

“You got it.” Gloria nods with a smile.

Hershel nods at her then stands up and walks out of the cell. Daryl is quick to take back his spot on the bed. There is a comforting silence within the cell as Gloria looks at her family surrounding her. She didn’t even need to ask to know that they all went out to look for her when they heard Nina’s made up story. She frowns as she remembers how she even ended up hurt.

“Where’s Nina?” Gloria questions, looking at Carol.

“She’s fine, I think she’s back in her cell block.” Rick answers.

“Seriously, Gloria... what the hell were you thinking?” Glenn sighs, frustrated, “distracting a herd of walkers so she can get away? You don’t have to be a hero! If you’re not gonna think about yourself, at least think about us and how we’d feel if we couldn’t bring you back!”

Maggie put her hand on Glenn’s shoulder, trying to comfort him. Everyone else in the room but Carol and Gloria seemed to be in silent agreement with his words. Gloria sighs, she expected this since she knows the story Nina had spewed to everyone. She didn’t exactly blame them though, with how frantic they had been, their vision and attention to detail would be clouded by emotion. Gloria knew that if they weren’t so emotion driven, they would have been able to pick out the details and know that there was foul play.

“Are you done?” Gloria says, a little harsher than she intended to be but she was angry as she remembered what Nina did to her, “because I’ll tell you right now that there was no herd.”

“What d’ya mean there was no herd?” Daryl asks, confused and frowning.

Gloria sighs and looks up at Carol, “I should have listened to you, you were right.”

“Right about what?” Glenn says, his face full of confusion.

“Right about Nina and how she can’t be trusted.” Carol responds, crossing her arms.

Rick steps forward like the leader he is, “okay, why don’t you start from the top? What happened in the woods?”

“I was going out to burn the walkers with Nina.” Gloria starts but she’s stopped by Carol.

“Why did you even decide to take her with you?” Carol looks at her disapprovingly.

“She volunteered,” she answers, earning an eye roll from the older woman, “anyway, we’d just finished putting out the fire when she started screaming and ran into the forest and since I brought her out there, I felt the need to bring her back safe so I chased her into the forest. That’s when we found the cabin and she basically jumped me.”

“How’d she sneak up on you?” Maggie asks.

“I let my guard down because I thought she couldn’t fight and she distracted me with the cabin, said that we should check it out, but then she knocked me out with a rock.” Gloria looks down, slightly embarrassed for getting attacked in such a stupid way.

“Did she tie you to a chair?” Rick questions, his sheriff deputy side was showing.

Gloria nods, “how’d you know?”

“Saw the broken chair with rope and restraints, could’ve guessed.” Rick explains.

“She tied you up and cut you?” Carol grimaces at her own words.

“She tied me up, cut, and stabbed me.” Gloria corrects her, she glances at Daryl when she feels his hand tense up as he holds hers.

“Then she lured all those walkers into the cabin?” Maggie put the rest of the story together.

Gloria nods, “yeah, I guess she never thought I was that awesome to take out a herd by myself.”

She felt the need to lighten up the mood in the cell as she could feel the anger rising in both Glenn and Daryl. Gloria put her free hand on top of Daryl’s, trying to calm him down.

“Did she tell ya why she did it?” Daryl grumbles, not looking at her.

Gloria frowns at the question, her intuition told her that Daryl already figured out why Nina did what she did and that he just wanted confirmation but she couldn’t do that to him. She couldn’t tell him that she got hurt because Nina liked Daryl. Knowing him, he’d take it out on himself and blame himself for everything that happened.

“No, she didn’t, but it doesn’t matter, she’s crazy, Daryl. A fucking psycho, they don’t need a reason to hurt or kill, they just do.” Gloria tells him, trying to reason with his inner demons.

“She don’ need a reason to hurt or kill... well, she gave me one.” Daryl growls as he yanks his hand out of Gloria’s grasp and gets up from the bed to leave the cell with Glenn following behind as he had the same mindset.

“Daryl! Glenn!” Gloria calls out to them.

Rick steps in front of them both and puts his hands on both their chests to push them back, “you both need to calm down.”

“Calm down? How do you expect us to calm down?!” Glenn shouts as Daryl glares at Rick.

“There’s a damn psychotic bitch livin’ within these walls who just tried to kill Gloria, ya can’t expect us to sit around and do nothin’!” Daryl scowls, seething in anger.

“I know.” Rick stands his ground as he looks at the two, “I hate what happened to Gloria too, and I’m not going to tell you that I’m okay with her living with us, I’m not, but we have to think about this.”

“What’s there to even think about? She’s a threat to everyone here!” Glenn points out.

“I know that, but we can’t just kill her, that’s not who we are.” Rick tries to sway them as well as everyone else in the cell.

“What ya suggest then?” Daryl says, his breathing seemed to have calmed slightly.

“Exile.” Rick states his thoughts, “we’ll kick her out. The prison is different from the farm, she can’t get back inside without anyone letting her in.”

“But we don’t know what she’s capable of anymore, I always thought she was sweet and innocent and didn’t know how to fight but look at what she did to Gloria.” Maggie chimes in.

Gloria was about to speak up in her own defence but Daryl beat her to it, “Nah, she jumped her. Snuck up on her when she weren’t lookin’. Tied her to a chair so she couldn’ do nothin’, she ain’ no fighter.”

“Well, why don’t we ask Gloria what she thinks, she’s the victim after all.” Carol says, bringing the attention back to Gloria.

“Please don’t call me a victim...” Gloria makes a face then looks to Rick, “I agree with Rick, killing someone because they did something wrong should not be who we are. Most of the world was trying to get rid of the death penalty for a reason, and I don’t want us to be the ones to bring it back. And... I don’t want to be the reason someone has to die.”

Glenn and Daryl falter at her words, both of them look down and nod in understanding. Then it was settled, Rick would be the one to take Nina out of the prison, Glenn and Daryl didn’t trust their own emotions if they were the ones to do it. Of course, Nina was not happy with the group’s decision as she was throwing a fit when Rick forced her to pack up her things. Gloria was laying in her and Daryl’s shared cell with him to rest while the others went out into the main area.

“No! You can’t do this! You can’t!” Nina screams as Rick drags her out to the main area, she looks around frantically, “Sasha! Tyreese! Help me! You can’t let him kick me out!”

“You tried to kill Gloria!” Sasha says angrily stepping up while crossing her arms, Tyreese was behind her to back her up.

Nina cries as she shakes her head, “n-no! I didn’t! I wouldn’t!”

“You would, and you did!” Glenn shouts furiously, “you’re damn lucky Gloria’s a fighter because if she didn’t make it back, I’d take care of you myself!”

Rick shoots him a look before trying to pull Nina out but she struggles to keep from being dragged out. She lets out a gasp when she sees Daryl coming out of Cell Block C; Gloria asked him to get her a glass of water. Nina roughly yanks her arm out of Rick’s grasp.

“Daryl! You care about me! I know you do! You know I can’t survive out there by myself!” Nina cries.

“Good,” he says as he pours a glass of water, “ya should be happy we even gave ya a chance out there, if it were up to me I’d put a bolt in ya an’ be done with it.”

Nina whimpers, shaking her head as tears stream down her face, “everything I did, I did for you! Because I love you!”

“Tha’s bullshit!” Daryl shouts as he slams down the glass, nearly shattering it as he storms over to her, “Ya don’ love me! Ya don’ know nothin’ about me! Hell, ya don’ even know what the fuck love is!”

“I do! I do know!” Nina wails as she rushes up to Daryl, throwing herself at him as she forcefully hugs him, “everything I did was because I love you! So don’t tell me I don’t know what love is, because I do! I love you, Daryl!”

He grunts angrily as he shoves her away from him, causing Nina to stumble backwards. She looks around the area, her breathing heavy as she catches everyone staring at her. She lets out another whimper when her eyes land back on Daryl.

“Dar-”

“Are you done throwing your tantrum?”

Everyone’s attention is averted to the door to Cell Block C where Gloria is standing with her arms crossed. She’d started making her way down to the main area when she heard Daryl shouting. She’d also witnessed Nina throwing herself at him.

“If you’re done, you can get the fuck out of here.” Gloria glares at her while walking towards her.

“You should be resting,” Carol says, looking at her worriedly.

“I will,” Gloria says, her eyes not leaving Nina, “but I can’t exactly rest with her throwing a fit.”

“You have no right to throw me out! I didn’t do anything to you! Why are you doing this to me!?” Nina screams.

Without another word, Gloria quickly steps up to Nina and pulls out one of her daggers, pressing it to Nina’s chest. She freezes the instant she feels the cold metal on her skin. The others stare at the scene in shock, Rick holds his hand up to try to keep Gloria from doing anything she’d regret.

“You want to keep denying what you did? Should I give you the same scar to remind you,” Gloria raises her other hand to peel the bandage covering the cut on her chest, “exactly what you did to me?”

Nina looks at the stitched up cut on Gloria’s chest then back up at her, unable to say anything as she trembles in fear.

“We’re letting you off easy for trying to kill me, so consider yourself lucky,” Gloria says then leans in and says in a low voice, “and if I ever see you again, I’ll shoot you in the face for touching Daryl.”

Nina lets out a shaky breath when Gloria steps back, nodding to Rick who then grabs onto Nina’s arm again and ushers her out of the prison. Gloria puts her dagger back in its sheath and lets out a sigh, her hand finds the table and she leans on it. She was still feeling weak from the blood lost but enough was enough.

“Daryl, help her with her bandage,” Hershel calls out to Daryl who nods and goes to help Gloria patch up the bandage she’d peeled off, “then take her to her cell to rest, with the amount of blood she lost, she shouldn’t have been able to make it down the stairs on her own.”

Glenn sighs at Hershel’s words and looks at Gloria, “you didn’t have to come down here, we could have handled her.”

“Could you though?” Gloria says, a tired but teasing smile tugging on her lips, “because from what I recall, you were threatening to kill her.”

Glenn scoffs at her but smiles softly, relieved that Gloria was still able to joke around and tease him the way she always did. Daryl takes her hand and brings her back to their shared cell. Gloria sits down on the bed while Daryl stands by the door to the cell. She looks up at him and reaches her hand out to him, gently urging him to sit down with her. His arms wrap around her once he gives in to her touch, he hides his face in the crook of her neck.

“‘M sorry...” he mutters.

Gloria frowns at his words, “for what?”

“Ya got hurt ‘cause o’ me,” he says.

“Daryl...” Gloria calls to him, gently pushing him away so she can see his face, “I didn’t get hurt because of you, I got hurt because of a crazy bitch.”

“Yeah... a crazy bitch who says she’s in love wit’ me...” Daryl scoffs, “said she knows what love is, but she don’t... that shit ain’t love.”

“Then?” Gloria asks, making Daryl furrow his brows as he looks at her in confusion, “what is it, to you?”

Daryl ponders for a moment, a light blush creeping up on his cheeks as he takes her hand in his, “you...”

“Me?” Gloria chuckles softly, a shy smile tugs at her lips.

“Wantin’ to be with ya every second o’ every day, an’ when I’m not with ya, I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout ya.” Daryl says, looking into her eyes, he caresses her face with his thumb, “always wantin’ ya to be safe... wantin’ ya to be happy even if it ain’t me ya want anymore.”

Without saying anything else, Gloria leans in to him, kissing his lips tenderly, she pulls away from the kiss so that her lips were just barely touching his, “you’re the only one I’ll ever want.”

Daryl smiles at her words and pecks her lips lightly before going back to hiding his face in the crook of her neck. Gloria has to suppress her giggle at his actions. She presses a gentle kiss to his temple, holding him close. He had never voiced his opinion on anything related to love, or feelings, or emotions, and although he knew that Gloria would never judge him for it, he still felt shy about it.

---

Next Chapter

So, like I said before, I changed the ending to this chapter because I originally had it end with just Rick throwing her out, but then I read it again and it just wasn’t satisfying lol I also wanted to add some kind of fluff because I love fluff haha please let me know what you thought about it! I know a lot of you wanted Gloria to kick Nina’s ass xD

With everything that’s going on in the world, I hope everyone is staying safe!

And as always, I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog!

Taglist (please let me know if you’d list to be added/removed!):

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parttime-creative · 3 years

Text

Marrying a princess

A little story about Xiadia, her brothers and her scar.

Trigger warning: major character death,

WC: 2445

“...and then the dragon swooped down and grabbed the princess. She was never seen again!” Iyanvuron imitated the massive dragonwings with his hands and made swooshing sounds with his mouth. His little brother looked at him with big puppy eyes.

“What happened to the princess?” Adresh asked worried. “Someone has to save her!”

“I will save the princess!” The little girl next to the two boys exclaimed excitedly. She climbed clumsily onto her big brother lab and stood there proud with her tiny hands on her hips. “ Imma slay the dragon an’ save the princess!” She waggled a little stick like a sword in front of her brothers “And then- and then” she excitedly searched for words “and then imma marry her!” Iyanvuron laughed and took his little sister in his arms. “You’re not gonna marry anyone, little bird, you’re four!”, he teased and tickled the little girl. Xiadia shrieked and struggled to free herself from his grip.

“Noooohohoho, Imma marry a princess!” she yelped in between fits of laughter. Finally she managed to escape his fingers and hid behind Adresh. She stuck out her tongue and Iyanvuron chuckled. He loved the enthusiasm of his youngest sibling. Xiadia was only four but already had the heart of a true warrior. He couldn’t wait to watch his little sister become the woman he already saw in her.

“Now, now, you two. It’s time for bed. Father is waiting for me!”, he said in a soft voice and pulled out a deer hide. Adresh already snuggled into his furs, but Xiadia was way to awake to rest now. “Nooo! I don’t want to sleep! I want to come with you and father! I want to watch your hunt!”, she lamented while a big yawn betrayed her. “I wanna go with you, I wanna be your Fladvrathakay! Please Iyan…” She hugged his forearm with fierce determination to never let him go without her. “Oh Xia…”, her brother chuckled, and stroked her little puffy cheeks. “You gotta have your horns to be a Fladvrathakay.”, he teased and ruffled her midnight locks.

“They are already showing! Look! Look!” Excitedly Xiadia pulled back her messy bangs, revealing tiny little bumps under the skin of her forehead, that shimmered greenish. “You sure, you didn’t just fall face first in a Thruski dumb and didn’t wash yourself properly?” Outraged the little girl searched for words and finally decided to pout instead. She crossed her tiny arms and let herself plopp into the furs. “You’re mean…”, she mumbled.

“And you need to sleep. I am going to tell you how it went, first thing in the morning. I promise, okay?”, he whispered, pressing little kisses to the foreheads of his little siblings.

“...okay, but don’t forget me...”, Xiadia reluctantly agreed, before another big yawn escaped her. She snuggled closer to Adresh. Even before Iyanvuron had left the tent, she was fast asleep.

~*~

Something warm tickled her cheek and woke Xiadia up. The warm thing now got wet, as a big Thruski tongue began furiously licking her face. She giggled as she pushed Nessas head off her. “I am not dirty, Nessa!”, she exclaimed. Yawning while sitting up, Xiadia wondered who allowed Nessa in the tent that she shared with her brothers. The Thruskis usually stayed near the camp in the forest and never really stayed with her people in tents. But Nessa was only a few months old, and her clumsy body could still fit through the opening.

“What are you doing here?”, she asked the animal, as if it could answer her. Nessa just bleated. Only now Xaidia saw the fear in her companions eyes. Only now she noticed the smell of smoke. Only now she heard the sound of metal blades meeting each other infront of her tent. Immediately every little bit of sleep that had been left in her body, was gone. Hastily she scrambled over to the still sleeping Adresh and shook him awake.

“Wake up! Adresh, Wake up! They’re fighting!” She shrieked. Adresh jolted upright. His eyes still full of slumber.

“W-wha-.. who...Where…” “Outside! They are fighting! What should we do? Iyan is not here!.”

Slowly reality broke through to her older brother and he blinked a few times before fear crept onto his face. He crawled over to the opening and slowly pushed the fabric aside. He froze, as his little sister followed him. Both siblings gasped in unison. What they saw was something right out of one of their brothers' stories.

“A dragon…”, Xiadia whispered in awe.

“Orks …”, Adresh gasped in fear.

The qerisari camp was chaos. Tents were trampel down. Bonfires had escaped their pits and people ran in utter panic into the forest. High above the lake they had chosen to stay at hovered the head of an enormous snake. Boiling water dripped from its mouth where a single warrior struggled to keep the razor sharp teeth apart, to delay his inevitable death. Unable to peel her eyes a way Xiadia watched with growing fear as the warrior lost his last fight. Water mixed with dark blood splattered onto the ground and extinguished one of the escaped bonfires.

Xiadia screeched as boiling blood droplets sprinkled on her face. Adresh quickly covered her mouth with his hand.

“We need to be quiet, Xia!”, he hissed, his voice shaking as much as her own.

“Listen. You gotta listen to me, Xia, okay?”, She slowly nodded. “We’re gonna leave this tent. You’re going to take Nessa and then you two run into the forest. Don’t look back! Try to find, Mom or the others! But whatever you do! Don’t. Look. Back. Do you understand?”

His sister slowly nodded, tears streaming down her face. Adresh smiled weakly and nod as well. “Good.” He ruffled her hair, just like Iyanvuron did before. The familiar notion of her brothers calmed Xiadia and she swallowed the remaining tears. The expression on Adreshs face reminded her so much of her eldest brother, despide Adresh only being a few years older than her. He seemed so old now. But then again, he had already started his warrior training. Not like her. She loved watching her brothers train together. The grace and skill of Iyanvuron, who always went easy on his little brother. Adresh, with his long limbs, clumsily trying to keep up with him, his idle. Xiadia loved her brothers. She loved them so so much. She sniffed one last time and hugged Adresh very very tightly, how only a four year old could hug her big brother. Then she grabbed a bit of Nessas mane and then crawled together with her Trhuski out of the tent. She did not look back. Just as her brother told her. As soon as Nessa could stand, Xiadia climbed onto her back. Thruski colts were clumsy and stiff, but fast. They could easily keep up with the rest of the herd, dashing through thick forest, so Nessa had no problem navigating through the collapsed camp.

There! Xiadia could already see the forest! They almost made it! A sigh of relief escaped her lips, when something grabbed her little ponytail and yanked her off Nessas back. Xiadia yelped. Nessa bleated.

“Where’re you think you goin’?”, the ork spat with his race's thick accent.

“Lemme go! Imma kill you!”, Xiadia shrieked while struggling against the orks gripp. Her eyes teared up, while her hole weight hang on her ponytail. The ork laughed.

“A feisty one, aren’tcha?”, he asked amused and pushed the knob of his crude sword into her stomach.

“I am the daughter of Dotheran Gyaadan Vuldran val Dynastrie and Kershda Uldran Bathera val Dynastrie! I demand you to let me go!”, Xiadia exclaimed and spat into the orks face. “You’re Kershdas kid? I can see that.” He grunted angrily. “Too bad for ya, I ain’t letcha go!” His face formed a horrible smile showing his oversized fangs and he raised his lumpen sword. The spite in Xiadias face made room for unadulterated fear. This ork was going to kill her. Just because he could. Frozen from fear, she couldn’t even blick, as the ork tossed her to the ground. She knew she had to run. She knew this was her only chance. With all her will, she forced her limbs to move. whimpering she crawled backwards. Not letting the sword out of her sight.

Her head hit a fallen tree trunk, on which her people had sung and laughed just a night before. No One sang now, as the horrible sword shot down and pierced her stomach. Xiadia couldn’t scream. She couldn’t even cry. She felt no pain. Just the blades deafening cold. She stared at the greenish metal. Just like qerisari steel she though, as she felt her clothes wettening. Shit, I’ve peed my pants. Iyanvuron will make fun of me. I am four, I shouldn’t wet my pants anymore! She looked away. She didn’t want to see this orks face anymore. She looked to the forest. So close. Yet so far. A hint of flaming red hair peaked through the trees. “M-mom?”

She felt the cold seeping through her body. The ork smirked down at her, when a disgusting smack pierced the unnatural silence in Xiadias ears, as he turned his blade around ninety degrees. The pain shot through her like lighting. She wanted to scream, but no sound left her mouth. Instead someone else screamed.

“XIAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

Iyanvuron broke through a tent, Adresh in his arms, who was holding a red cloth to his right elbow. Iyan rammed his shoulder into the orks' back. The ork stumbled, pulling his sword out of Xiadia. He grunted indigent and bare his teeth. Iyan did the same, putting Adresh to the ground, who immediately crawled over to Xiadia. Shocked, he stared down at her, before his instinct obviously kicked in. He took the red cloth from his arm, or what had been his arm, and pressed it against Xiadias stomach.

“Xia, look at me! Look AT ME! Stay awake, okay? I need you to stay awake! I don’t think he got anything important, but I need you to stay with me, okay?”

His voice was so serious, so full of panic and worry, that Xiadia didn’t even think about disobeying him. She wanted to ruffle his hair. Just as her brothers always did.

She felt him pressing down on her stomach even harder.

“W-whats with your arm?”, she asked weakly. Her vision was getting blurry.

“Just a scratch.” mumbled.

“Where’s Iyan?” she asked again.

That made Adresh lookup. Where was their brother? Still pressing the cloth on Xias stomach and his own stump into his clothes, he turned his head, to see their brother wrestling with the ork.

“She is a CHILD! HOW COULD YOU! HOW COULD YOU!” Iyanvuron roared over and over again. “THEY ARE CHILDREN! HOW COULD YOU?!”

The ork had an obvious struggle to deal with the enraged qerisari. He might be bigger and older, but Iyanvuron was fast, driven by fury, hurt and utter disbelief. However he was also unarmed. Struggling to keep the ork at bay and away from his siblings, he pushed with his bare hand against the orks blade. Only his gloves giving him the bare minimum of protection. Finally he managed to push the orks blade out of his grip and wrestled him to the ground. Only then he met his little brother's eyes. What was he still doing here?

“RUN!” was all he could manage to call out, before the ork took his moment of distraction to push Iyanvuron off him. It was, however, enough to break Adresh numbness and made him move. He flung his little sister over his shoulder, and stumbled onto his feet. His arm hurt so bad, he could hear his blood pulsing in his ears. But he had to protect his sister. He had to make sure she was okay. He had to bring her to safety. And so he ran. Tears streaming down his face. Just as his older brother had carried him out of the camp, he now carried his sister into the forest. He did not look back.

Xiadia, however, did look back. Xiadia did see how her eldest brother lost the fight against the stronger ork. Xiadia did see how another one came out of the burning camp. She did see how the second ork pushed his blade right through her brother's back. She watched in horror as it emerged from his chest. The look in his face, forever burned into her mind, when he found her eyes. The smile and the silent words on his lips.

“Marry your princess, little bird.”

~*~

Xiadia stood in front of the mirror, watching her reflection. Her bare torso, glistened in the morning sun shining through the high windows. Drops of water that remained from her morning bathe rand down her shoulders. Dropped from the end of her hairs. Gathered in the curve of her navel. Next to it just above her hip bone was a scar slowly fading away over the years. She ran her fingers over the discolored skin and a long forgotten sorrow weighten her heart. The last memory of her brother creeping in her mind. But this time she let it come. This time, she let it take over her heart. She closed her eyes, revisiting the last moments she had with her brother. Even though she was so young, she still remembered that evening. She still remembered the story he had told her. She still remembered his smile that lightened up his whole face. The warmth in his eyes. How he teased her about her horns. She chuckled and looked again at her reflection.

“They’re not so small anymore, are they?”, she whispered into the empty room.

“Xiadia! Who are you talking to?” Thearis voice came from the other side of the door. She sounded impatient. Xiadia chuckled.

“No one, Ris.”

“Thought so. Hurry up! Fiona is already struggling to keep Tiny and Fhey from eating the buffet on their own! We shouldn’t wait any longer!”

With that Xiadia heart her running down the corridor and a warm smile appeared on her lips, as she looked over the shoulder over her reflection. She imagined a warm hand on her shoulder. Her mind projected the picture of an elegant, young qerisari behind her. A single tear rolled down her face as she placed her own hand on his, resting on her shoulder.

“Thank you.” She whispered “Thank you for always being with me”

She wiped away the tears and finally finished dressing.

She knew, somehow, somewhere her brother was watching his little bird marrying her princess today.

The End

#GAL #Xiadia #Adresh #Iyanvuron #val Dynastrie siblings #prompt #short story #oneshot #OS #writing #story

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esoanem · 3 years

Text

VIII.

“I didn’t want to believe you could be capable of doing something like that. But I couldn’t convince myself that you weren’t“

Major Content Notes:

None!

Wikipedia Synopsis:

The hunt for the Urca de Lima begins when Silver divulges the schedule to Flint, taking them to the ship's location. Rackham stops paying Ms. Mapleton, which causes her to threaten to blackmail Rackham. She threatens to tell the locals what really happened to Mr. Noonan. Meanwhile, Vane makes his way back to New Providence with his new crew. Eleanor's situation changes when a small band of men take over Hornigold's fort and start sinking supply ships in the bay. Gates threatens to call off the attack of the Ranger, so Flint kills him. The final scenes of the season show that the Walrus has beached itself upon the same isle as the Urca de Lima.

This is the final episode of the season so quite a lot goes down, but for the first time I don’t think we’ve needed any major content notes. There is some blood & gore, and nudity at various points, but nothing especially graphic

Summary:

Rackham is docking Mrs Mapleton’s pay because of her skimming. She threatens to tell all the merchants that he murdered Mr Noonan, saying that they’ll band together and see Jack hanged for it. Jack calls this insubordination and fires her. As she reiterates her threat, Max arrives, and points out that the merchants are all enjoying steep discounts (affordable now the books are in order) right now and that because of that, they won’t much care what Mapleton has to say

At sea there is a terrible storm, with the Walrus and Ranger climbing waves as tall as their masts. Belowdecks, as the crew play music and card games, Dr Howell has made a peg leg for Randall and is trying to get Silver to convince him to wear it, saying that a crutch is too big a risk in this weather. Randall is reluctant. Silver tries to convince him by sarcastically pointing out how he’s helped Randall in the past, before throwing the peg leg to him, but Randall just tosses it to the floor and goes back to eating his apple

“Oh, Mr Silver, how can I ever thank you? First you save me from ending up as a stain on the Walrus’s underside, then you secured my position on the crew on the verge of an historic haul, and if that weren’t enough, you’re still trying to find something comfortable to put at the end of my stump. From the bottom of my heart, thank you“

Two crewmen come down from the deck saying that a launch from the Ranger has arrived with Captain Gates. Logan wonders “what could be so fucking important that he has to row through all that shit out there for it”. Silver hears this and hurries to Flint’s cabin

He sits down, and Flint pushes an inkwell over to him saying they’ll make landfall in the morning and need the last part of the schedule. Flint compares what Silver writes out to a book of his own reconnaissance, of bays and inlets in the right area that could reasonably be used for the Urca to take on water. Flint tells Silver to take the information to de Groot and set a course for Division Bay. As Gates says he better get back to the Ranger, Flint says it’d be better not to tempt fate and pulls a bottle up

“Talbot Rhodes’ private stock. I’d been waiting for an occasion. My reckoning is, tomorrow we’ll be able to afford a lot more of it or -”

“- we’ll be too dead to care”

Mr Scott comes into Eleanor’s office to tell her that Captain Lawrence is almost ready to leave. She is worried by the storm, calling it a ship-killer and wondering if God is on Mr Scott’s side in opposing this plan. Mr Scott reassures her, saying that the trouble might have happened anyway, with or without the schedule

“Tomorrow, a thing that you conceived out of thin air becomes real. A thing that will give this place a chance to find some small measure of peace. That is not nothing”

Back on the Walrus, Gates & Flint are finishing the bottle, and reminiscing about the man who found it, Mr Cregg, the carpenter’s mate who could sniff out booze on a prize ship like a bloodhound. Flint tells a story of one time he found a bottle hidden behind a baseboard on a prize and, thinking it was the captain’s best booze he took a big swig in front of everyone, only to realise it was piss. Gates is trying to seem friendly, but in cutaways he seems melancholy, mourning his lost friendship with Flint, whilst Flint seems to be acting as if nothing has happened between them. Gates remembers that he brought Cregg over with him, having both served under Avery together as kids, before getting up to leave, a tear in his eye

"For years, he went on how he’d got this huge stash hidden away, and I should live to survive him because one day, I will be a rich man. As you know, we lost him on the Pembroke.

So I open his locker and what do I find?

Twelve pesos, a busted pocket watch, and a letter with instructions to deliver it to his sister in New York.

Lying sack of shit was Mr Cregg!

So I bought the boys a round with the pesos, traded the pocket watch for a bit of tail, and spent two weeks that winter in New York, trying to deliver that fucking letter to his sister. Looked high and low, never found her. So on the way home, I waited until we were in open water and I could see no land in any direction and I dropped it over the side. Return to the sea.

There are no legacies in this life, are there? No monuments, no history. Just the water. It pays us, and then it claims us, swallows us whole as if we’d never been here at all”

Anne bursts in on Jack whilst he’s taking a bath. She yells at Jack for cutting Mapleton loose without telling her, saying she could tell the entire island about them killing Noonan. She then says the fact he’s keeping council with Max is bothering her even more, and accuses Jack of fucking her

"Jesus H Christ I can’t win with you. She’s in the camp with the men and it’s ‘come on Jack, let’s go kill everyone see if we can’t get around there, hope you don’t mind, made that decision on your behalf’ and now she’s out making us a small fortune by the way and you’re pissed off about that too, might you consider making up your fucking mind about her, please!”

After telling him to fuck himself she leaves, and sees Max standing by a mirror naked, drying her hair. Anne looks bashful, and hurries downstairs as Max turns around and puts on a dressing gown smiling

Vane arrives at Nassau with a few rowing boats full of the men from the lumber camp. They row past a series of lobster pots before beaching the boats and stepping ashore

The Walrus & Ranger are sailing along the coast flying Spanish colours, Division Bay is just past the next headland. Flint gives a brief speech to the crew, before ordering full sails for their final approach

“Llisten here! When we clear the point ahead and spot the Urca at anchor, we’ll begin our final run at her. The Spanish banner may earn us a few hundred yards of confusion before the captain identifies us and opens fire so we’ll close fast on her, hammer her well with our guns, and then take the fight to her decks. That fight will be the fight of our lives make no mistake. But on the other side lies paradise!”

As they round the point though, there is no ship to be seen. The entire crew, including Flint are dumbfounded, and after asking de Groot if he’s sure of their position, Flint storms into his cabin leaving the crew bemused on deck

Eleanor meets Naft, Frasier, & Lawrence at the end of the pier, where she hands Lawrence two manifests, one true, one false, and a substantial purse and wallet for bribery. Lawrence is impatient and wants to leave. As Eleanor comes off the pier she is met by Hornigold & Scott. She tells them that she still needs to remove her father entirely, that she knows he’s on the Underhill estate scheming to undo everything they’ve done. Hornigold reacts in disbelief

“You’re truly amazing, in the moment when stability is at hand and the world is at your feet, your first instinct is to go out in search of someone new to fight”

Scott asks for a moment with her but is interrupted by cannonfire, the shot landing near Hornigold’s ship. After a couple more shots, they realise the cannons being fired are from the fort. Hornigold realises someone other than his men must be in the fort and, as we see a mast break Scott says they need to get off the beach. As they march towards the tavern, Jack comes out of the brothel to ask what’s going on, when he’s told that someone’s taken over the fort he looks over at Anne who swallows anxiously

Gates comes aboard the Walrus and is led to Flint by Dufresne who tells them that the crew have agreed to Flint’s plan. They will land the Walrus and then he has two days to send out scouts to find the Urca. Flint gives the order and heads into his cabin. Dufresne tells Gates that de Groot is bitter that they didn’t listen to him about the cook, that he says there’s no Urca out here, that justice has been delayed long enough, he wants Flint tried immediately, and he believes that for all his talk Gates is just protecting Flint

“I’m protecting all of us! These men are right on the edge, and he wants to rile them up more by talking about a lying thieving captain, then stand on a deserted beach and talk about elections? Before you know it, half a dozen men will have laid claim to the captaincy, council will divide. it won’t be dark yet before the fighting starts

We’ve got to see Flint pay for his crimes, but we’ll do it at home, and we’ll do it like civilised men and that’s how we avoid the abyss!”

Dufresne asks how they can trust Gates, as they know the two of them spent the last night together drinking. Gates hands him a letter asking if it’s good enough, which Dufresne reads and seems surprised by

Sails are spotted, a Spanish man-o-war, and it will be on them in half an hour. Flint signals the Ranger to raise the black and fire two shots off the Walrus’s bow, as well as rigging a spring to the foreward anchor and dropping her immediately. Below you can see, the main anchor cable connected to the bow of the ship running straight up, with a second line, the (slightly slack) spring tied onto this and connected to the stern. By tightening the spring, he can pull the stern out to windward, and turn the ship without moving

De Groot is astounded that Flint means to fight the man-o-war, but Gates shouts to the crew that they have their orders before dragging Flint into his cabin. Dufresne and de Groot share their concerns

"If he engages that ship in battle, we’re dead!”

"I know”

"I know you know, but does Mr Gates?”

Gates tells Flint he can’t let him go down this road. Flint ignores this and explains his plan to Gates, the man-o-war will see them as a Spanish merchantman under attack by pirates, the Spaniard will pass them by to give chase and, before she realises her error they’ll turn and have her trapped, the Walrus raking her stern to bow, and the Ranger raking her bow to stern, and that the warship shows that the Urca is here after all

"all I see is an empty bay, a gardacosta warship, and a captain that’s lost his fucking grip on reality!”

Flint says that the ship isn’t a gardacosta (coastguard) here on patrol, that the only explanation for it being here at this time is that it’s an escort. Gates points out that the entire justification for the venture was that the Urca would have no escort. Flint suggests that they changed their plans, at which point Gates says he’s leaving with the Ranger, leaving Flint dumbstruck in disbelief. They hash it out, furious at each other

“What did you just say?”

“I’m going to weigh anchor, I’m going to make a run for it, and if I can keep ahead of her before dark there’s just a chance we could slip away”

"Without the ranger, I have no chance against that ship”

"I know”

"So you’re deliberately challenging my authority here? Deliberately violating you duty?”

"My duty? My duty is to them, not to you! Although I have violated it more times than I can remember in your defence. Helped you deceive good men, who put their trust in me because I was convinced they would be better off for it! But not here! Not this! This is fucking madness!”

"Mr Gates, if you walk through that door with the intent of subverting my plans, I will have no alternative but to interpret that as an incitement of mutiny”

"You think I’m inciting mutiny?

"You are inciting mutiny!”

"I’m managing one! There are men out there right now that know about Singleton, the book, the cook, all of it! They know! And they mean to see you hang for it!”

Flint goes quiet, asking if Gates told them

"After Billy, I just, I didn’t want to believe you could be capable of doing something like that. But I couldn’t convince myself that you weren’t. That’s when I realised that this has got to end.”

"So what then? You preside over a trial that sees me hanged?”

“No. I’m going to go home. And I’m going to see you and Mrs Barlow secreted away before anybody knows you’re gone. You’re going to go to Boston. You’re going to take the pardon that she’s offered you and that is the last that you and I will ever see of each other”

Flint looks ashamed, and downcast, and begs Gates not to do this. Gates tells him to take a moment, that he’ll deal with the crew, and goes to leave. Flint looks up, and stares intently at the back of Gates’ head, his lip quivering into a snarl

He starts up, slams Gates into the door, and chokes him from behind, repeating “this is not what I wanted, I’m sorry” before snapping Gates’ neck. He repeats “I’m sorry” as his snarl softens and he starts crying, cradling the body of the closest thing he had to a friend

The door creaks open, Flint’s face immediately hardens again and he draws his pistol. It is Silver, saying he came to back Flint up in his case that the Urca can still be won. Flint drops his arm, looking exhausted. Silver comes in and hurriedly closes the door behind him, locking it, before checking Gates’ neck for anything incriminating. Flint bats his hands away, asking “what the fuck are you doing to him” before telling Silver to stop. Flint is utterly defeated, but Silver tells him there is still a way out

"There’s no way out of this”

"Take it from me. There’s always a way”

A letter is delivered to Hornigold and the rest of the consortium, saying that a small band on men were seen approaching the fort from the west that morning, but no-one could identify them, and all the local crews are accounted for. Mr Scott asks if the fort’s great guns could be repositioned to aim at the street. Hornigold’s only response is that he hopes whoever it is won’t be mad enough to consider that and proposes to retake the fort when he is interrupted by Vane & his men on the street outside demanding to speak to Eleanor

Flint steps out of his cabin and, looking Dufresne straight in the eyes tells him that Mr Gates’ heart gave out. He gives orders to signal the Ranger with the plan, telling Mr Thompson he’s in charge, to sail North and, when the Walrus fires on the target, to tack hard to port and join them. Dufresne barges past de Groot into the cabin. As he looks down at Gates’ body, Silver starts speaking

“The question you need to ask yourself is what good can I do.

You can call this murder, a number of the men might even believe you, but will that be enough to stop this fight that is about to happen?

Because if it’s not, a fight we might win becomes a battle we are doomed to lose because the men went into it infected with your suspicions, with your doubts.

So, Mr Quartermaster, is that truly what’s in their best interests?”

Dufresne steps out and walks straight past de Groot again, over to Flint.

"When the warship draws close, she’ll ask our last port of call. Saint Augustine is the closest and as she’s likely a customs ship, we must identify our cargo as anything but tobacco; Seville regulates the trade heavily”

Vane is Eleanor’s office, his boots up on her desk, rolling a cigar as she comes in, and sweeps his feet off asking what the fuck he did

"Spend enough time on an island, you begin to forget there’s a whole world out there. A world where the rules are different” he puts his feet back up and goes back to rolling his cigar “I went out there and found men who don’t know the rules here and who don’t much care to learn them. They helped me surprise Captain Hornigold’s men, we took his fort, and not once were any of them burdened with the though ‘what if this were to upset Eleanor Guthrie’”

He threatens to keep sinking ships, and maybe even sink the Walrus when she comes back with the Spanish gold, just out of spite. He says that because the fort controls the bay, Hornigold was her partner when he controlled the fort and so now, he should get to be her partner. He says being a tenant didn’t work out so well, and now he’d like a stake

He then describes the first time he saw her, when she was thirteen, and sneaking out despite Mr Scott’s rules. He says that despite her age she walked between the camps like she owned the place, completely fearless. He then suggests that all she really wants is to not have any men bossing her around, and that he has no intention of telling her what to do as long as he gets what he wants. She begrudgingly agrees, but promises that she will drive him out once he inevitably gets comfortable

“I know you. Better than your father, better than Scott, maybe better than anyone. You don’t give a shit about money, or respect, or the things you’ve built here. I think you’re just tired of fathers telling you what to do and so I’m offering you a life free from them. With me in that fort, you do as you like as long as it doesn’t cross me you’ll hear no complaints”

"You know I have no choice but to say yes. But before I do, know this: you’ll sit in that fort for a while, you’ll get comfortable, and that’s the day I’m going to push you and your men right into the fucking sea”

As Vane saunters out, he dismissively nods at Hornigold, calling him “Ben”. Eleanor tells him that Vane now has his seat on the consortium. She tells Hornigold that it’s no use him trying to take the fort, because she told Vane about the tunnels he’d have used to launch a surprise attack. She defends this as acting in everyone’s best interests and Hornigold leaves, promising that this won’t be the end of this

“You told me to keep emotion from clouding judgement, to act in everyone’s best interest. I believe that’s what I’m doing”

Vane enters the brothel and is met by a nervous Jack. He says that in some ways it had to come to this: him deciding if Jack lives or dies. We see Mapleton standing behind Vane’s men. Vane confronts him about killing Hamund and his men, and we see Jack speechless, and Anne wearing a frightened expression for pretty much the first time

“Hamund brings you out of bed, marches you down to the wrecks to look for a stash of stolen pearls and somehow only you and your dog make it back alive?”

“Quite a moment. Jack Rackham with nothing to say. Had I a shrewd quartermaster right now, he would tell me that I can’t let what you did stand, he would say that an offence like that demanded an example be made of both of you, the bloodier the better, but today I’m a little less worried about perception than I used to be. As long as I own that fort, it doesn’t really matter, so the street will know what you did, they will know that you betrayed your brothers for a woman. That story will spread far and wide, and you’ll never sail beneath the black again. You’ll sit in this place and rot with the rest of the whores. Something tells me that will sting worse than dying”

The man-o-war comes alongside the Walrus, and Silver shouts across, with Flint behind the rail next to him feeding him lines. He says that they were attacked by pirates, that their last port of call was Saint Augustine, and that they are carrying tobacco. De Groot questions Dufresne about this

"If I’m not mistaken, you told him to state us as anything but a tobacco trader did you not?”

"II did. He means to prove that ship is not gardacosta, that it’s here for the same reason we are. If that ship lets us pass, he will have both renewed the men’s lust for gold and their faith in his judgement”

“Time and again he gambles with our lives, that is when he’s not taking them in cold blood and once more his influence grows. We’re at his mercy with no way to challenge him”

The Spanish ship sails on and Flint orders all hands to quietly go to their stations, and to fire at 300 yards. The Walrus starts pulling on its spring line to bring the stern out slowly, so the Spanish ship thinks they’re just drifting. At 100 yards, he orders the gunports opened and sights down a gun saying “we only get one shot at this. If we miss, we die”

Just after 200 yards Dufresne pulls his pistol on Flint, accusing him of piratical crimes against his crew, that he murdered Singleton, Billy, & Gates, and that he planned to steal a portion of the treasure fleet for himself. Flint gives the order to fire, but the crew do not. Belowdecks, de Groot is taking Silver into the Surgeon’s cabin. Dufresne hands the letter to Logan saying it is a confession from Mr Gates of his knowledge of & complicity in Flint’s crimes, and Logan confirms that it is written in Gates’ hand

Flint continues to repeat the order to fire growing frustrated at the crew’s inaction, shouting that they’re going to lose the enemy and don’t have time for this. Eventually he strides down and grabs one of the slow matches used to fire the cannons and goes to light the touchhole firing the cannons, but is shot in the shoulder by Dufresne

Silver wrestles with de Groot, but is knocked to the ground. As de Groot readies his pistol, he is knocked out by Randall who has hit him on the head from behind with the peg leg. Flint is pressed against the side by a gunport watching the Spanish ship slip away when one of the Walrus’ cannons fires, taking him, and the entire crew by surprise. Silver looks out at them, saying that it had to be done. Flint tells Dufresne to fight

“There’s no running now. Fire, Mr Dufresne. Everything you’ve got. Don’t waste this moment”

Dufresne hesitates, and the Spaniard’s sternchasers fire, hitting the Walrus. At this, Dufresne and Flint both start shouting orders to hire, and the crew slip into battle. Both the Walrus and Ranger get some volleys in, scoring several hits and causing a small explosion and fire onboard the man-o-war

The man-o-war comes about, her gunports open, and she fires. The Spanish broadside tears into the Walrus sending yard arms crashing down, and gun carriages flying. We see the Ranger’s magazine explode, and more and more holes be shot into the Walrus. As Silver tries to help an injured man, crying out for the doctor, Flint is knocked into the water. Seeing people and debris continue to be sent flying from the Walrus, he stops treading water and allows himself to be dragged under by the weight of his clothes and equipment

Eleanor is on the bridge between the tavern and brothel and Max comes out to meet her halfway. Eleanor starts to apologise to Max, but she tells her not to, saying she was “standing between you and your dreams for this place, you did what you had to do” and Eleanor reminds her of her words, that Nassau is just sand and cannot love her back but Max pushes back

"Sand has its virtues. On sand nothing is fixed. Nothing is permanent. Fates change so quickly.

Yesterday Captain Hornigold was immovable from that fort and Captain Vane was a beggar, now look at them today.

Yesterday I was a whore of little consequence, easily dismissed, easily forgotten, today I am a madam with an income and allies, and a woman who has learned the most important of lessons, never let anyone stand between you and your ambitions. Thank you for teaching it to me”

Vane sits in the fort as we see Lawrence push off, Hornigold’s damaged ship still in the bay, and Hornigold and Scott look on. Eleanor watches in the shallows, teary-eyed over what her ambitions have lost her

Flint wakes up on a beach, topless, a bit of cloth pressed to his wound as a dressing. He sits up and we see Dufresne, Silver, several other pirates, and the Walrus next to them on the beach with several holes clean through her hull. Flint asks why he’s still alive and Dufresne tells him to get up. As Dufresne leads them over the island they’re wrecked on, Silver says he was certain about his information regarding the Urca

“Unfortunately, you & I failed to take into account the weather. The Urca de Lima wrecked at sea last night. Dashed by the storm”

As we peek over the brow of the hill and see the Urca broken in two on another beach, the Spanish sailors unloading her onto the beach with the man-o-war at anchor in the bay, Flint seems to regain his resolve

#black sails #black sails content notes

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bellemorte180 · 4 years

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If I Die Before I Wake: Chapter Five

Vengeance is defined as punishment or retribution for a wrong committed against another. A single curse could derail and weaken the most powerful being in the world. A single massacre could take the entire world in one go; but it could centuries to execute the perfect vengeance.

Chapter Five

Mystic Falls

April 2010

The morning of the full moon greeted Bonnie as any other day. She had spent the last four days doing nothing but studying that spell. She knew it backwards and forwards. She missed school and Freya told her to take today to rest and prepare. It was a major spell and it would be taxing. Bonnie remembered how the spell she and her Grams preformed to open the tomb was exhausting. She was unsure if she would be able to succeeded; and the consequences if she did not were massive.

Bonnie pulled herself from her bed, dressed and made her way downstairs. She made a quick breakfast and opened her front door only to be greeted by Freya and another man who clearly was a vampire. She startled slightly because she had not expected to see the witch today; and to be honest, it was the only part of the day Bonnie was looking forward to. Bonnie found Freya to be demanding, bossy and more like a general commanding an army than a mentor.

“I thought we were not going over the spell today. You told me to rest.” Bonnie bit out.

“We're not and you will rest. I am here to make sure you do that.” Freya eyed the bag in her hand. “Going to school does not include resting. I am also here to ensure that you don't accidentally get yourself killed between now and when the full moon rises. Now. Invite my brother inside.”

“What?! No!” Bonnie's eyes flashed to the vampire. He was taller than Freya and had spiked brown hair. He was thin and lean. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a long sleeved white shirt. His brown eyes looked her up and down and it made her feel as though she wanted to vomit.

“Come now darling, you don't even know me. Spend a little time with me and you might even like me.” He did a small bow with a smirk that caused Bonnie to want to punch him. “Kol Mikaelson at your service.”

“Answers still no.”

“Look, invite him in and once this is all said and done, I will do a spell to remove any invitation to any vampire from your home.” Freya offered with a small smile. “Besides, Kol knows more about magic than any vampire you'll meet. Any question you have he can answer.” Bonnie looked him over and against her better judgment decided to agree.

“Fine. Come in Kol.”

“Thank you darling, who knows after today, you might even be begging me to stay.” His eyes trailed her body again and it disgusted Bonnie. She narrowed her eyes and Kol let out a yell of pain. His hands went to his head and he squinted his eyes. “Freya! Make her stop.”

“You earned that Kol.” Freya replied, rolling her eyes. She pushed her way past Bonnie and stepped inside the house, looking around. For the past few days, Freya met Bonnie at the boarding house and not at her actual home. There was nothing special about it and that surprised Freya. She knew many witches and most had a mystical feel to there home, but not Bonnie Bennett. “If it was me, I would have snapped your neck with click of my fingers.”

“How rude.” Bonnie stopped and tossed Kol a nasty smile before turning and going back inside. Kol followed Bonnie in and stood in front of his sister, with his hands on his hips. “Is this how you repay me for digging you out of that conclave in Italy?” Kol smirked at her. “I broke many nails doing that and it took an entire coven to break those enchantments that protected you.” There was a smirk playing on his lips

“Wait, what?” Bonnie looked between the two of them. She was beginning to realize she knew nothing about Freya. She never asked her questions regarding herself, only the spell. In return, Freya never asked about herself either. Bonnie realized that she knew nothing of Freya outside of the fact she had several brothers and one sister who all were vampires. “You were stuck in a conclave in Italy?”

“Yes and it is a long story.”

“Not really.” Kol plopped down on Bonnie couch and smiled at her. “You see I was searching for a way to wake Caroline and to pull my psychotic brother from his doom and gloom. I came across a sleeping spell made by a witch named Dahlia, who just happened to be the long lost sister of my evil mother. I also then learned that the older sister we all thought had died before we were born was in fact alive and victim of a sleeping curse. I searched for her body, found it in the conclaves of the Vatican, clever hiding place by the way, and pulled her out. All the while hiding it completely from by hybrid brother.” Kol appeared to be way too smug and Bonnie found that she wanted to knock him down a few pegs.

“You were the victim of a sleeping curse?” Bonnie asked Freya who wouldn't look at her. Clearly it was a touchy subject. She felt bad for asking but given the fact that her brother kidnapped her best friend, did something to Stefan were he pretty much refused to leave his bedroom and spent the majority of his time in Mystic Falls so far torturing Katherine in the tomb, Bonnie felt she deserved to know. “If you already broke one sleeping curse, why haven't you done so with Caroline?”

“Different spell Darling.”

“Don't call me that.”

“You like it.”

“Kol, knock it off.” Freya said exasperated, already regretting allowing him to come. She would have preferred leaving him at the manor but he said that it would be torture to listen to Rebekah cry, deal with Elijah's indifference, the doppelganger and Marcel's stellar tactics to avoid Rebekah. He begged Klaus to allow him to tag along and torture the other doppelganger but he flat out refused-still angry at him for the events of 1914. “The spell that was cast on Caroline used a different type of magic. The spells were similar but not the same. While Dahlia's death was enough to break my spell, Caroline's was more complex.”

“Yes, lets see...” Kol held up his fingers as though he was beginning to court. “One, we need a piece of the sleeping beauty, ie her blood, check. Two, pull of the full moon, almost check. Three, the normal essentials, candles, herbs and salt, check. Four, blood and magic of a Bennett witch, double check. Five, birth place of the slumberer, check. And finally, a magical anchor in the form of my lovely sister Freya. Check.”

“How has no one killed you in the last thousand years?” Bonnie asked.

“What can I say? Most would rather love me than kill me.”

“Ugh.” Bonnie gave him a disgusted look and looked back to Freya just in time to see her roll her eyes. “Okay, question. I didn't think of this before but Mr. big head over here made me realize something. You said that the spell can only be broken at Caroline's birth place?” Freya nodded and that baffled Bonnie. “So you're saying that Caroline was born in Mystic Falls over a thousand years ago?” Bonnie sat down on one of the living room chairs at this point.

“Why do you think Katerina was here in 1864? The spell needed to be casted here and it needs to be broken here. The plan was that once we found the Bennett witch, we would drag her here to do the spell. Yet, even when we searched here, no Bennett witch could be found; even if they were standing in plain sight.” Freya replied. “A basic cloaking spell was for anyone who was purposely seeking them. However, Rose-Marie wasn't looking for you and that is how she found you. Loophole.”

“I just can't get over the fact that Caroline was born in Mystic Falls, or whatever it was a thousand years ago.” Bonnie replied.

“We all were, well except Freya, Finn and Elijah. They were born in what is now considered Norway.” Kol turned to his sister his sister and stuck his tongue out at her. “Once Freya over here 'died of the plague'” Kol stated using question marks with his hands. “Our parents didn't want to loose anymore children. So, they packed up Finn and baby Elijah and moved to the promise land of magic.”

“Promise land? Really?” Bonnie asked in a sarcastic tone.

“Mystic Falls at that time held a strong tribe of werewolves and the falls around the village was promised to have magical abilities. Our parents brought their remaining children here.” Freya stated in a matter of fact tone. Bonnie suddenly felt that there was much more to her story but didn't want to pry. Freya seemed cold towards the subject.

“So, your family originates from Norway but immigrated to Mystic Falls long before it was officially discovered. What about Caroline's family?”

“England.” Kol replied. “William Forbes and Elizabeth Forbes fled England when William's preferences became known and he nearly was hanged for it. So he packed up his pregnant wife and fled to the Mystic Falls hoping that the people here would be more understanding. They weren't but thats neither here nor there.” Bonnie looked at him confused. “He was gay Darling. Had a male lover when he lived in England. Big no no back then.”

“Oh.”

“They landed in Mystic Falls in just enough time for Elizabeth to give birth, thus making Caroline's birth place this lovely town.” Kol replied with sarcasm in his tone. Bonnie could tell that he hated Mystic Falls and after the last few months, she could relate. “Ah, good old Bill Forbes” Kol turned and looked at Freya. “Did you know that Caroline's dad was Klaus's first kill?”

“Really?” Freya asked surprised. She didn't know that. Although, Klaus's long list of the people he killed was never something she went into specifics about. It was long and there were many people he killed that asking who is first kill was, was not something Freya ever thought to ask.

“Klaus murdered his father-in-law?”

“Yeah. It was how he triggered his werewolf curse.” Kol replied in a nonchalant manner while Bonnie just looked at him like he had three heads. “I suppose you want more context. Well, lets see. After we were turned us into vampires, Caroline actually adapted pretty well. She was sad and went through a bought of depression but I think we all did. I lost my magic for example. Anyway, Caroline was always a control freak so mastering her bloodlust was easy for her and she grew to love being a vampire. Her father accepting the monster she became, not so much. She went to visit one day, he tied her down with vervain and tortured her for a few hours. He thought he could fix her.”

“Nik never talked about this.” Freya asked as she sat down on the sofa beside Kol. “I've listened to him talk about Caroline until he was blue in the face but he never once mentioned that her own father tortured her.”

“I don't know the full story behind it but just that Liz Forbes came screaming Klaus's name as though her life depended upon it. The rest of the village shunned us by this point so someone seeking one of us out was noticeable. When she found him, she just said that Bill had her and that she was in trouble. Nik vanished in the direction Liz told him to go and the next thing we all knew was that Klaus ripped Bill's heart from his chest in a blind rage and pulled the vervain off of Caroline.”

“And he triggered his werewolf curse.” Freya said in a voice full of gloom and sorrow. “Falling down a rabbit hole none of us can dig out of.”

The sun set and darkness fell upon them all. Bonnie, Kol and Freya all made their way to the Boarding House. Bonnie was confused as to why the spell was being done there but all Freya would say was that Klaus wanted their manor to remain cloaked for the time being. Caroline would need some time, a few weeks, to gain her strength back and he wanted no interruptions. When they reached the boarding house, it was Stefan who opened the door.

He looked stressed and hassled but the fact that Damon was in the background with a tumblr of bourbon could possibly be the reason why. Both Freya and Kol pushed their way in while Bonnie hung back to check on Stefan.

“How are you holding up?” She asked in a concerned tone. Bonnie wasn't a fan of vampires in general but Stefan did save her and she could respect that. That and when she compared him to every other vampire she has met thus far, he was like a bunny compared to the rest. “We will get Elena back. I can do this.”

“Yeah. Yeah we will. I have faith in you.” Stefan replied and Bonnie looked at him strangely. Something was going through Stefan's mind and Bonnie couldn't pin point what it was. She wanted to inquire more but Kol cut her off.

“You're Stefan? I heard you had a wonderful time in the twenties.” Stefan said nothing but instead held the vampire's gaze. This made Kol smile widely and hold out his hand. “Kol Mikaelson at your service.”

“I thought you had a dagger in your chest.” Stefan replied in a stilled manner. Bonnie looked between the two of them. Damon moved between them as though a fight was about to break out. For the first time in eternity, it appeared that Bonnie and Damon were on the same page; both were completely lost. After a tense moment, Kol laughed and slapped Stefan on the shoulder. “Welcome to the family, that is until Nik decides to rip your liver out for touching our sister.”

“Want to share with the class little brother?”

“Not really.”

“Does this have anything to do with why you have been sitting on your ass for the last few days instead of searching for Elena?” Stefan only looked at Damon but still said nothing. Damon raved and yelled at him to do something for the woman he professed to love as he had done in the past but Stefan did nothing. Damon thought that Klaus had done something to him but now he wasn't so sure. “Well?”

“Silence.” Freya chimed in. “Bonnie?” The other witch nodded and moved towards Freya. With a flick of her wrist, Freya completely cleared the sitting room of all its furniture. The sofas and chairs magically pushed themselves against the walls. The carpet folded itself and tucked itself away. Freya then magically moved the dining room table to be stationed in the center of the sitting room. Bonnie pulled out a container of salt and began to pour a circle around the table.

“Whoa whoa whoa. What the hell witch one and witch two?!” Damon cried out. “You seriously cannot be thinking of doing this here! Isn't there somewhere else!? Like. Anywhere else!” Freya just looked at him and then his neck twisted and he was out cold.

“Impressive.”

“Well I work better with quiet.”

Bonnie pulled out a few candles and placed them around the circle but didn't light them. She pulled a pillow from one of the couches that had been pushed to the side of the room and placed it on the table. Kol grabbed a smaller table, cleared it of its contents and placed it outside the circle. He grabbed the grabbed the bag from Bonnie and placed a grimoire in the center with a clay bowel beside it. Finally, he sat a silver knife on the other side of the book. Stefan just looked on, standing beside his brothers incapacitated body, watching them work until he felt someone else approach.

“Hello Stefan.” He turned and saw Rebekah standing there. Her hair was down and hung just below her shoulders in waves. Her black top and tight jeans made Stefan pause. She was still beautiful and he wondered how he could forget her. It only registered seconds later that she was holding a teenaged male in a tight grip. “Nik and the rest are not here yet. He asked me to make a pit stop.”

“Wait. What is he for!?” Stefan hissed. He recognized him but couldn't place his name. He had seen him around the high school but never spoke directly to him. He was so focused on Elena that he did not get to know those who had nothing to do with her.

“Caroline will be hungry when she wakes.” Rebekah replied before turning to the boy. “Go sit over there on the chair. Say nothing. Do not make a sound. Do not move until I tell you too.” The boy echoed the instructions back to her and went to sit down. Stefan wore a furious look upon his face. “Oh do grow up. If it makes you feel better he was trying to take advantage of a teenage girl in the back of her car.” Stefan raised an eyebrow at her. “Caroline has a thing for breaking rapist in two.” She then turned and moved toward Freya.

“Rebekah wait.” She looked over her shoulder. “Can we talk? After?”

“Don't you want to talk to Elena?” She replied and turned away from him completely. Freya reached out her had and held her sister's. They shared a small smile. It wasn't long before a car pulled up outside and doors slammed. Elijah appeared in the doorway, gently guiding Elena into the house. She immediately ran and wrapped her arms around Stefan. Rebekah turned her head and saw that Kol looked murderous. “Don't. Please Kol. Not now.” Elijah moved towards his siblings and placed a hand on Kol's shoulder, whispering something to him. It appeared to appease Kol as Rebekah whispered a word of thanks to Elijah.

“Oh my god. Damon!” Elena fled Stefan's arm and crouched down by Damon's body. “What happened?!”

“He got on my nerves.” Freya replied as Klaus and Marcel started to carry a coffin inside. The two sat the coffin down in the entrance way. Marcel gave Klaus a meaningful look before leaving him with the coffin. He saw that Rebekah was seated with Kol, their eyes met and Marcel quickly moved towards the other side of the room, and took a seat beside the motionless boy. Rebekah rolled her eyes.

They all heard a loud breath of exhale and their eyes turned towards Klaus. The hybrid bent down and opened the casket completely. Gently, he reached it and pulled Caroline's lifeless body from it. He cradled her to his chest as though she was the most precious being in the world. As he made his way to the center and placed Caroline on the table, propping her head up with the pillow. He caressed her face and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“Soon my love. Soon.”

The room was still and all eyes trained on Klaus. The look upon his face was one of many emotions. Unconditional love mixed pain and hope. Yet, there was fear there also. He was putting his heart on the line. If this didn't work, the little bit of humanity that he was hanging onto would slip away and there would be nothing left. Elena stood and moved to stand beside Stefan. They linked hands. The rest of the Original vampires sat motionless. Bonnie picked up the silver knife but Freya held out her hand and shook her head no. She took the knife, grabbed the clay bowel and looked at Klaus. His eyes flickered to knife in her hand.

“We need some of her blood.” Klaus accepted her words, knowing this because he read the spell many time since they discovered Emily's grimoire. Freya took Caroline's hand and sliced her palm. Freya curled Caroline's fingers and squeezed, causing blood to coat the bottom of the bowel. When Freya placed Caroline's hand back down, the wound was already healed. Freya handed the bowel to Bonnie and stepped outside the circle; taking her place beside the other witch. “The moon is full. It's time.”

Klaus nodded and kissed Caroline's forehead one last time. He stepped outside the circle but did not move far from it. He stood at its head, his eyes never leaving Caroline's sleeping face. He wrapped his arms around his chest and bit into his thumb nervously. Freya snapped her fingers and all the candles that surrounded Caroline illuminated.

Bonnie took the same knife and cut into her own palm, wincing. She squeezed her own blood into the bowel and linked her free hand with Freya's. She turned her eyes to Emily's grimoire and began chanting the words that she had practiced over and over the past few days. Then she felt it, magic more powerful than she ever felt before. It was like a surge of energy that flowed through every ounce of her soul. It was darker than anything she ever tried before. She felt the pull of the full moon. She felt Freya's magic mixed with her own, anchoring hers. She felt every ancestor of the Bennett line touch her. It was as though they all were standing behind her.

Wind blowed.

Candles flickered.

And then it was over.

Klaus felt the magic in the room leave. He waited. His eyes were trained on Caroline. He did not acknowledge Marcel standing and then falling to his knees. He did not acknowledge Rebekah's silent tears or Elijah's worried gaze. He did not hear Freya's whispered words to Bonnie and Kol. He just could not look away from Caroline, waiting for her to move, to speak; to do something other than lie there motionless.

She didn't. Caroline did not move.

It was like his soul was once again ripped into a thousand tiny shards. He howled from the pain. Tears streamed down his face and he screamed louder than he ever had before. It was the sound of a wounded animal who was dying. Yet, death would be easier. Klaus flashed and took ahold of the first thing he found, tearing it to shreds. He destroyed everything in sight. It was like a hurricane of complete destruction and not a single person got in his way. Soon the entire bottom floor of the Boarding House was destroyed; but it wasn't enough.

“You!” Klaus flashed to Bonnie and flung her on the table in front of her. Elena screamed but it was Kol who moved quick enough to hold her back. Stefan tried to pull him off but Klaus tossed him across the room as though he was nothing. “This is your end. You are mine until you are able to do this spell correctly. You will bend to me until I deemed otherwise. Do you understand me?! And then I will remove your head from your spine.”

No one said a word. No one moved.

Not until a soft voice rang through the room.

“Nik.”

New Orleans

October 1864

“Happy birthday love.” Klaus's voice whispered in her ear. Caroline smiled wildly as she felt his arms wrap around her middle as she looked out the window. She turned and placed her hands on his chest, looking up at his eyes. He leaned down and took her lips into his. It was gentle and small. When they broke apart, Klaus placed his hand on her cheek and stroked her cheek bone. “I have never loved anyone as much as I love you.”

Caroline smiled widely and kissed him. Klaus could feel her smile through her lips. He turned her around and pressed her back to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. She loved the feel of him. Centuries of marriage could never be enough for her. Klaus was no longer the man she married just as she was no longer the young girl he fell in love with; yet their love still held strong. Through the turmoil and the bloodshed, Caroline knew that she would never leave him.

“Thank you. For today.” She looked up at him and smiled. It was late. Very late. The full moon hung in the sky and it was only a few hours from dawn. Another birthday after the thousands she already had. Klaus wasn't one to celebrate his own birthday, unless there was alternative motives behind it that normally ended in a massacre, but he refused to go a single year without celebrating hers; even when they were on the run from Mikael. She argued with him once about how he didn't need to throw such lavish parties.

That only made him throw an ever bigger event.

This year was tame in comparison. Of course all the vampires and werewolves of New Orleans attended and even a few witches but it didn't have the over the top atmosphere that he normally had at her birthday soirees. Perhaps it was because she didn't complain or try and force the details out of him. Her birthday was the one party she was not allowed to plan and that Klaus had complete control over; and that drove her mad. The more she complained, the more he became obnoxious with the party. The less, the more it suited her and would appear to be something close to what she would have planned. Klaus knew that Caroline thrived on control but could not help but enjoy when she was forced out of her comfort zone.

“It's your birthday. I love birthdays.” That made Caroline snort because it was the farthest thing from the truth. Klaus loved her birthday; everyone else's didn't matter. She didn't say anything but instead just smiled at him. Klaus pulled her closer to him and began to sway. “It's true. When it comes to you.”

The musicians left hours ago and there was no music but that didn't matter. Since the first night he really saw her, centuries ago near the flames of the fire pit, Klaus loved to dance with her. He loved seeing her smile as she enjoyed herself. The dances changed but the partners never did. Caroline's laugh rang out and echoed off their suite's walls. He spun her and dipped her until her ice blue eyes shined brightly.

“I love you.” Caroline whispered. Klaus smiled, his dimples becoming extremely pronounced. He leaned down and picked her up by her hips. Caroline squealed as he spun, the white fabric from her pantaloons swayed. Her chest heaved, the restrictions the corsets caused her breasts to be more pronounced. Klaus held her tightly in the air, his arms wrapped around her rear and his eyes trained on her breasts. He leaned in and kissed her cleavage, his tongue tracing the center of it. Caroline moaned. “Niklaus.”

He chuckled against her skin and sat her gently on the ground. She ran her hands over the fabric of his shirt until her hands reached his breeches. Slowly she popped over the buttons but took it no further. Klaus grabbed her wrists and brought it to his lips. She narrowed her eyes at him, knowing that he was enjoying teasing her; he always had. In eight hundred years, she never told him that she enjoyed it to; but he knew.

Klaus leaned in and meshed their lips together. Caroline pressed her body as close to him as she could while their lips fought for dominance. They broke apart and Klaus spun her around. He pulled her tight against him, her back against his chest. His lips kissed her neck creating a trail down her skin. Caroline's head leaned against his shoulder as she panted. Her eyes fluttered shut as she enjoyed the feel of his lips against her. His hands went up to cup her corset covered breasts and moved her hands upwards to weave her fingers through his blonde hair.

“Niklaus.” The first time it came out as a moan but the second time was different; it was hoarse and pained. Caroline stilled in his arms, as though she was frozen. Klaus knew her body and knew her reactions. He stopped kissed her shoulder and lifted his head. Before he could ask her what was wrong, Caroline slumped against him. “Something is wrong.”

“What? Caroline? What is it?” Her legs slowly gave out and Klaus wrapped her arms around her as they sunk to the around. Her breathing grew heavy as though she was gasping for breath. As he cradled her in his arms, he saw a trickle of blood come from her lips. She raised her hand and pressed it against his cheek. “No. No. No. You can't. Please. Please. Elijah!!”

“Nik.”

“No. Don't leave me. Please.” Tears began to flow freely down his cheeks. The door burst open and Elijah, who was still fully dressed from the ball, rushed in. Rebekah and Marcel followed quickly behind, hearing the distress in Klaus's voice. Their eyes turned towards Caroline, who was still struggling to breath and the blood seeping from her mouth. “I love you. Please. I need you to stay with me.”

“I love you. Know that.” Caroline breathed out. Marcel dropped to his knees beside Caroline. He took her hand and brought it to his cheek. He was speechless, not knowing how to process what was happening before him. Tears flowed down Rebekah's face and she latched onto Elijah's arm. She was sobbing, unsure of what to do or how to feel. She had never seen her brother in such a state. Her eyes looked at Caroline as her last words left her lips. “Thank you, for loving me.”

“No. Caroline Mikaelson. Don't you dare leave me. You promised to never leave me. Always and forever. Please. Please. Please. Come back. I love you. Please.” Klaus begged but Caroline's eyes shut and went completely limp in his arms. The hand that Marcel was holding slipped and rested on the ground; unmoving. Klaus crushed her to his chest and pressed his face into her hair. He screamed and howled until the walls shook and mirrors shattered. It was sound that could be heard all across New Orleans. It was the sound of a wolf whose heart was ripped from his chest; it was beyond pain and beyond misery. It was the sound of pure darkness.

“Niklaus.” Elijah said his brother's name but Klaus didn't hear him. The older of the two crouched down and placed his hand on Klaus's shoulder. He didn't push Elijah's hand away but instead continued to rock Caroline in his arms. “Niklaus, she isn't decaying. “

“What?” He hissed out. He shifted Caroline and looked down at her face. The blood was dry on her lips and cheeks but she looked peaceful. Yet, this wasn't how Caroline slept. She was always moving; she was never this still or this frozen. It was unnatural. It wasn't right. “I don't understand.”

“Her skin isn't grey nor is rough like vampires who decay.” Klaus didn't care about other vampires and Elijah could see that his brother was about to lash out at him. “She isn't dead brother. I think she was cursed; a sleeping curse. We can get her back.” Klaus didn't look at his brother but his mind reeled. Elijah had an affair with a witch named Celeste a few decades ago. He supposed that Elijah would know if Celeste ever casted such a spell. Either way, it sparked a hint of hope and rage inside of him.

“Wake Kol. Pull the dagger from his heart and have him find me a witch that will wake her. He always had a way with them.” Klaus hissed, plots and schemes ran through his mind. “And find them. Whoever dared take her from me, find them. Do not kill them. I want to take their hearts from their chest myself.” Klaus stood, lifting the lifeless Caroline in his arms. “I will make them pay Sweetheart. I'll bring you back to me.”

#klaroline fanfiction #caroline x klaus #klaus mikaelson #caroline forbes

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half-bakedboy · 4 years

Text

Trick and Treat Written for Femslash February - Prompt: A WLW ship ft. a Downworlder

Read on AO3

The minute Maia’s eyes flashed green, Becky felt her heart beat skip and her breath catch in her throat. She didn’t mean to yell out and was immediately embarrassed when Simon shoved her shoulder. In her defense, the happenings at Hunter’s Moon were a lot to take in. Between the horns, the pig noses, the scales and the pointed ears, glowing eyes and fangs she was still getting used to, there was entirely too much to take in. She glanced back and forth between her vampire brother and his werewolf ex girlfriend and blinked slowly. Maia’s eyes were still glowing, a soft smirk on her face that had Becky looking back toward Simon quicker than she thought possible.

“There’s Sajid! I’m going to go say hi and try to beat his cheating ass at a game of darts. Maia, can you look after Becky and make sure she doesn’t say anything to get her killed?” Becky gaped at him, holding a hand over her heart in mock offense. She knew this whole shadow world thing was new to her, but she wasn’t about to risk her own life. Simon patted her head and flashed his fangs at her before walking over to who Becky could only assume was a warlock based on the scales plattered over his face.

“What can I get ya?” Maia said as she leaned over the bar and slid a menu across it. Becky read through it, her face contorting in disgust at a majority of the options. She heard Maia chuckle and peered up at her, a concerned look on her face.

“This is what downpeople drink?” Becky asked as she tossed the menu in Maia’s direction and stared at the normal looking selection of liquor on the back wall. “If I order a gin and tonic, will I actually get gin? Or would it be some magical fairy cocktail that has me spurting out my innermost thoughts?” Becky asked suspiciously. She raised her eyebrows as Maia turned around and poured the liquid of the gin bottle into a glass and grabbed one of the soda guns from the bartop. Becky tried to ignore Maia’s now chocolate eyes boring into her own as she topped off the glass.

“Why do I have a feeling that you don’t need a ‘magical fairy cocktail’ to do just that?” She pushed the glass toward Becky with a wink and stepped away to pour what looked like blood in a glass. She took a quick sniff of her drink and tilted her head in acceptance before taking a large sip from her straw. Her eyes wandered around the room, resting on a woman dressed in more leather than that should be legal with dark tattoos on her skin. Becky finished her drink, a little too quickly she would realize later, and said out loud, “shadowslayer!” She heard a burst of laughter from behind her and jumped.

“Shadowhunter,” Maia corrected as she pushed another drink toward Becky. Becky smiled widely and bit down on the straw before taking a long sip.

“Same thing. She’s cute, though. Do you know her?” Becky asked as she glanced eagerly at Maia. Maia raised an eyebrow at Becky and Becky shrugged in response.

“Straight. Pretty boring. Not your type,” Maia said conversationally as she wiped down a few glasses in front of her. Becky narrowed her eyes at Maia.

“How do you know she’s not my type?” Becky challenged as she played with the straw with her tongue, a habit she picked up while attempting to flirt with cute bartenders in Florida.

“Your reaction to my eyes was enough to tell me you like a little adventure in your life,” Maia reasoned as she glanced up at Becky. Becky let the straw fall from her mouth and a blush bloomed across her face. Maia laughed and let her eyes flash again and Becky wanted to ignore the bullet of attraction that shot through her spine. “What? Werewolf got your tongue?” She lost her chance to retort when Simon walked up and wrapped his arm around Becky’s shoulder.

“Is Maia treating you right?” Simon asked cheerfully, shooting a wink at Maia. She smirked back at him and Becky gulped down the rest of her drink, carefully avoiding the straw in favor of getting the rest of the alcohol into her system. Simon watched her with curious eyes and patted her shoulder gently when she coughed. “Maia, what did you do to my sister?” Maia shrugged and flung a rag over her shoulder.

“You know you shouldn’t leave me alone with cute mundanes, Simon. They’re just so fun to play with,” Maia said by way of an answer. Simon rolled his eyes and glanced back at Becky who swallowed audibly and widened her eyes at her brother.

“She’s right you know. You’ve opened up a whole new world of roleplay for me to work with,” Becky teased with an overly enthusiastic wink at her brother. Simon shuddered, a look of disgust on his face.

“G--, shit,” Simon choked out. Becky gasped and put her hand on Simon’s shoulder.

“You can’t say god anymore?” Becky asked with shock laced in her tone. Simon shook his head and glared at her.

“Even when I’m filled with revulsion. It’s a sin, I tell you,” Simon said exaggeratedly. Becky looked back and forth between Simon and Maia, an unspoken question in her mind that Maia seemed to read.

“Werewolves can say god,” Maia commented as she leaned against the counter again. “Just in case you were wondering what I can scream in bed later,” she added. Becky choked on the air she inhaled while Simon covered his ears and turned away from them in a huff. Maia laughed to herself as Becky eyed her.

“I want to say thank you for grossing out my baby brother, but I’m distracted by thoughts of you in my bed now,” Becky blurted before she could think about her words. Maia just winked at her and walked to another customer. Her eyes darted back and forth between her brother and Maia, but something about Maia’s glowing eyes had her staying put for the rest of the night.

For @magnuslightwoodalecbane for constantly reminding me what a lesbian Becky is 😏

#mabecca #maia x becky #becky x maia #femslash february #maia roberts #becky lewis #she was a gift #a gay gay gift #my writing #long post

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headquarters90 · 4 years

Text

Darkness (Warrior of the Source 11)

Pairing: Darkiplier x French Goddess!Reader, Reader x Original Characters (Platonic/Family), Reader x Greek Gods/Goddesses!Characters

Words: 2,547 words

Warnings: Training in the beginning, cursing, (not sure if this is needed but) witchcraft

A/N: Here’s the late update for Warrior of the Source! Once again (or in case you didn’t read the update post I made), the holiday season sucks and I work retail so schedule may be wonky. Also, in case anyone wanted, I am willing to tag people within this post. Just drop an ask and I’ll tag ya in the next one! JadeDarrow

Series Masterlist

“Doing good, girls!” Pierre called out as you grunted against your sister’s attacks. “Y/N, you-Or do it without me telling you too.”

A snort left Angel’s lips and you grinned as the two of you continued to spar against each other before coming to a halt at your aunt’s command.

“These two trained almost every day together when Y/N lived at home,” Bellatrix stated. “They need to go up against someone that doesn’t know their moves, Pierre.”

“Then who do you suggest, sister?” Pierre questioned, raising an eyebrow as you glanced towards the two entities across the room, watching. “Last I checked, only a few can handle going up against the two.”

“I’m aware of that, Pierre,” Bellatrix scowled at him. “Maybe we shouldn’t focus on them sparring without abilities and focus on them using said things.”

“Auntie-”

“You have to take it easy on abilities you rarely use, Y/N.” Her eyes shifted towards you. “Basically, all abilities past down by Thomas.”

“Life and death,” Pierre mused and you looked towards him, shaking your head. “You still hold a majority of the abilities from when you were the Goddess of Life and Healing, Y/N?”

“And some death abilities as well. Thana is my mother,” you muttered, sticking your tongue out at Angel. “Sorry, sis.”

“Y/N, with what you’ve been through, you having all those abilities is a good thing. Even if some Gods believe you’re overpowered.”

“I’ve had some taken away.”

“Enough with the chitchat, ladies,” Pierre cut in and the two of you looked towards him. “Jeez, how are you two not twins?”

“Piss off, Pierre.”

“Angel!”

Angel sent you an apologetic smirk and you shook your head, summoning your staff as Angel summoned her scythe.

“Should we take-”

A grunt left your lips, loud enough to cut Pierre off, and your eyes shifted around the room once the pressure had disappeared.

When your eyes didn’t catch sight of your sister, you brought yourself to focus on any sound that gave her away. Hearing a quick and quiet breath to your left, you swung your staff towards the sound. A thud sounding off through the room as Angel reappeared, her scythe blocking your staff. Her eyes held a slight annoyance as they glanced towards you.

As she disappeared from sight again, you heard a quiet whoosh behind you and turned quickly, your hand flying through the air. Vines shot up from the ground, wrapping themselves around the handle of the scythe, stopping its movements. Your eyes met Angel’s, watching as she raised an eyebrow and you soon winced at the quiet screeching you heard as the vines withered, falling to the floor.

“Uncalled for.”

“They were wrapped around my scythe.”

“You know I hear their cries!” You scowled as you found yourself at the end of her scythe, your eyes narrowing at the smirk on her lips.

“Well, it seems like-”

“They’re not done,” André cut him off. “One of the many things Angel constantly teaches those under her command; never yield when a blade's at your neck, only when you feel blood dripping. But with these two, you’ll have to call it.”

“Call-”

You drowned out the words as you brought up your foot, ducking under the blade as you forced it out of her hand. Making your staff disappear, you caught her scythe, holding it behind your back as you stood.

While you had been made as the personification of life and your sister as death, it had been told to you over and over again that you were more like your mother, the original personification of death and Angel more like your aunt, the original one of life.

“If I didn’t know about better, sis, I’d say the role of a Reaper would look good on you,” Angel spoke, raising an eyebrow at you as you took your time to get a feel of the weapon before tossing it back.

“Not my thing.”

“Alright, girls, I think that’s enough for you two today,” Bellatrix spoke before scrunching her nose.

“I have a meeting with Jean-Paul.”

“Who all is needing to attend?” Pierre questioned and Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. “I am a brother.”

“Who Jean-Paul still does not trust. Do the four of you plan to attend?” Bellatrix's eyes shifted from you and your sister to your cousins and the four of you glanced at each other.

“Juliette?” Angel questioned, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll go for the two of us, you for you guys? Evens out the playing field?”

“It’s your guys turn anyways,” Jean-Louis snorted. “Plus, I think Christina is still upset with me.”

“I wonder why, son,” Bellatrix rolled her eyes with a shake of her head. “We should get going. Dinner tonight, Y/N?”

Your eyes drifted to hers as the question, a chuckle leaving her lips at your confusion.

“It’s Wednesday already? And even with what’s going on?”

“You know your mother. And father at that. And you already missed your one this month.”

Angel snorted, patting your back as you pursed your lips.

“I have guests.”

“Take it up with your mother.”

“You know what she’ll say. She’d invite them!” Angel exclaimed, scrunching her nose.

“Let’s get going,” Juliette butted in and Bellatrix agreed as Angel grumbled, the three of them disappearing.

The same could be said for the majority of the Warriors and their lovers – except Hades.

“Hecate sent me with this.” Hades showed the book before tossing it towards you and you caught it. “Her newest copy of her new Book of Shadows.”

You hummed at that, turning the book in your hand. While you only met the Greek Goddess once or twice, like Persephone, Hecate had taken a liking towards you and it only expanded once she learned that you were a fellow Goddess of Witchcraft, causing the two of you to share copies of your Books of Shadows. Hades was, unwillingly, the middle man between you two – especially since he was best friends with both of you. He had voiced his “annoyance” on multiple occasions but when it came down to it, he was glad you had found someone to hold a similar interest in it.

“Also, this book showed randomly on my doorstep. Cerberus doesn’t understand how since no one passed his Gate and I made sure it was safe but I don’t understand the language.” He tossed another book but before you could catch it, someone else’s hand shot out, catching it. “That wasn’t for you, Dark.”

“A book randomly shows and you give it to Y/N simply because you cannot read it? How idiotic,” the entity scoffed as you stared at the cover, the words translating easily in your mind.

A gasp left your lips and, lifting your hands, you took the book out of Dark's hand, raising it in the air without touching it. You stared at it a second more before dropping it back into Hades' hands.

“Take it to the library. Maxence, I need salt, chalk, crystals, almost everything from my Craft room, please,” you called out.

“Y/N?”

You glanced towards Hades before making your way to your library. Millions of thoughts ran through your head as you heard two sets of footsteps following you. Your eyes lifted to Maxence whose lips pursed with worry as he held a piece of chalk to you. Taking it, you were quick to draw a circle, directing where Maxence would place one as well, making sure he drew the star correctly.

“Set it there, Hades.”

“What’s going on?” Hades demanded and you lifted your eyes to his.

“The book is called Warriors of the Dark. I cannot touch it nor can the rest of the Warriors. It's cursed. I have to remove the curse.”

Hearing a quiet click, you lifted your eyes to meet the annoyance within Dark’s.

“You said you’ll be the only God around 24/7 and yet, since working on this so-called cursed book, Hades has not left and called another here,” Dark deadpanned. “Goddess of Lit and Witchcraft yet you been in here for a majority of the day.”

Your eyes fell to the glass he pushed closer to you and your lips pursed before your hand wrapped around it, lifting it to your lips to drink the much-needed ambrosia.

“And to think Gods need that to keep going,” he muttered dryly.

“I’m almost done,” you murmured, grabbing the crushed ingredients. “In order for a book to be cursed, at least this way,” you began to drop the ingredients onto the book and a gray smoke began to appear, making its way to the pentagram on the floor, “a soul must be trapped inside.”

Your eyes met the green ones of the lost soul, watching the soul shift in her spot, fear flashing in her eyes.

“What is your name?” You spoke gently, glancing towards Dark who stared at the soul before he turned to look at you as you turned back towards her. “Sweetheart?”

You watched her hands fly up to her mouth, shaking her head, and you frowned.

“You cannot speak?” Your eyes glanced around the room before grabbing your tablet, moving to stand beside the circle she was in without breaking it. “Use this.” Showing her how to use it first, you stepped back, finding yourself standing beside Dark as you watched her.

“Lia,” the tablet spoke out and the soul – Lia – jumped at the sound.

“How long have you been trapped in the book, Lia?”

“I was born in 1784 and the last age I remember being is 18.”

Your eyes fell to the floor for a second before lifting to meet hers once more.

“You’ve been trapped in this book for over 200 years.”

“Is it wise to be speaking to the soul that caused it to be cursed?” Dark whispered harshly to you and you looked at him.

“No, but we’re not speaking to a soul, Dark. If it was a soul, they would be more thankful for being freed and they would be willing to talk and tell the truth. The only truth they’ve told it that they’ve been trapped in the book for 200 years,” you spoke, your eyes returning to the entity in question. “There is a soul trapped and the soul is most likely named Lia but the entity we’re looking at is not one.”

“And here I thought I got you without speaking,” came the crackled reply as the appearance before them shifted from a fearful green-eyed woman to a smirking blue-eyed one. “Hello, Y/N.”

“Cassia.”

Dark raised an eyebrow at you and you glanced at him.

“Already have a new boy toy, witch?”

You glanced towards the Dark Sorceress before turning back towards the book, ignoring the chuckling that came from her.

“Your gifts are nothing like mine. Even with spells, you miss a key ingredient – the blood of darkness.”

Your eyes glanced towards her once before you turned towards Dark, holding your hand out and he stared at you.

“Just a prick on the finger. I’ll heal it afterward.” You tilted your head, waiting for his response as Cassia's crazed laughter filled the air.

Always balance out. No matter what the book signs, too much of anything dark create chaos and destruction. Always balance out the light and dark.

The words came to you as he allowed you to prick his finger with the tip of your dagger.

“Not yet. Wait a second,” you murmured, pricking your finger with a soft wince. Holding your finger above the book, you nodded. “Now.”

The two of you turned your hands over, watching as a drop of blood from each of you dropped onto the book. Smoke filled the air and you looked up in time to see the soul you were looking for – Lia – lung towards Cassia.

“Don’t break the circle!” You called and Lia stopped moments before the circle, eyes glancing towards you. “Lia, you’ve been trapped within the book?”

“With this lying bitch, yeah.” Lia soon winced. “Sorry, Y/N.”

“You know her?” Dark demanded and you glanced towards him.

“Yes, I do. This is Princess Lia of Italy. Or she was back in her time. She’s immortal along with her friends. I helped them awhile back to rid of the angels within them.”

“Yeah, miss Jophiel's abilities to not be thrown into a book. They tried to get Juliette but its really hard to get someone that is in contact with her guardian angel, in good terms with the devil and Archangels, and be blessed by two Goddess for her Craft,” Lia answered as Cassia snorted in annoyance. “I’m itching to drive this katana through your chest.”

“Violence never looked good on you, darling,” Cassia tsked and the Princess glared at her.

“I cannot wait for you to be reunited with Lyustifer and be meet with your worst nightmare.”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

You pursed your lips before snapping your fingers as Cassia went to speak again and the sorceress’ eyes snapped to you with anger.

“Oh, thank you, Y/N. Her voice was driving me crazy.” Lia rubbed her temples as she walked towards you. “The book shouldn’t be cursed anymore since I’m no longer stuck in there. Mind if I go try and call Juliette? Or someone?”

“Hades is out there with Hecate,” you spoke. “And I’m sure Jophiel would answer if you called upon her. Same with...Miguel and Lyustifer?”

“I forget you call them by different names,” Lia mused, shaking her head before giving a soft smile. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. What are you going to do about her?”

“I do not know yet but Hellhounds will be the first to know. Give them my greetings?”

“Of course. See you around, Y/N.”

“Same to you, Princess.”

Once Lia had left the room, you turned to touch the book only to find Dark standing in your way with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you a fool, Goddess?” Dark demanded, his eyes glancing towards the sorceress in the room. “She tried manipulating you and you went ahead and gave the book not just my blood but yours. Stupid move if you asked me.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask you,” you murmured, moving around him to open the book only for his hand to wrap around your wrist before you could. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not done.”

“Listen, Dark, stop acting as if you care. Since meeting me, all you’ve done is try to belittle me even though all I have to do is snap and you’re gone. Let go.”

Your eyes met his and, for once, annoyance wasn’t in his eyes but rather, yours.

Shuffling was heard from behind and, before you could do anything, Dark held your dagger up against the throat of the sorceress whose eyes glared at him.

“Pay attention to someone’s movements otherwise they’ll stab you in the back,” Dark spoke as he let your wrist go and you turned to face Cassia.

“Hades!” You called out, ducking under Dark’s arm as you made your way to the doors. “I need those chain things you made!”

As you opened the door to step out, you stopped, turning your head to face Dark.

“And Dark?”

His eyes glanced your way before he returned his attention back to the sorceress.

“What, Goddess?”

“Thank you.”

#darkiplier series #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier x french!goddess!reader #darkiplier x goddess!reader #Darkiplier #warrior of the source series

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momofaddict · 4 years

Text

Well, I'm almost 5 months in. The struggle seems to get worse instead of better, which I halfway expected. I felt so numb in the beginning and distracted with having to take care of a baby at 52 years old.

It is absolutely bizarre the range of emotions that I have felt. I'm sickened by the relief that I feel not having a deal with her addiction anymore. I'm excited, exhausted, and totally feel robbed of the grandmother experience that I've spoken of so many times. I feel embarrassed and like a shitty grandma that I feel relief when my ex takes the baby oftentimes. He never, ever, ever seems exhausted or ready for a break the way that I do. I love that baby with every fiber of my being. But I think I have not yet mourned the loss of the life that I thought I was building for myself. Not to mention my ex barely works at all, so it's easy for him to have energy and excitement for taking the baby as often as possible. He has his own business painting houses. And between losing his daughter, his own depression, and the coronavirus pandemic, he has hardly worked lately. So on top of everything else, I'm paying his bills, because without that, he's unable to help me with the baby.

After Melody died we decided as a family that it would be best that my ex move into the dreaded condo. This is the same condo that my ex-mother-in-law lived in when she had her heart attack. And the same condo that my daughter overdosed in. But that fucking condo is paid off, it was bought with cash. So, because my ex was essentially homeless, he has to live there if he's going to help me. And the only bills are the HOA, and the utilities. Plus there's the added expense of Melody's car that my ex is driving, the car payments that go with it along with the insurance payments. So I'm literally paying all of those plus my own bills so I can have a few days on my own... Until the long awaited inheritance comes from my ex's mother's estate -which will be just enough for my ex to buy a van for his business, get his teeth fixed, and overall get back on his own 2 feet - then my paying his bills stops. Should be in June sometime.

I feel sickened even saying all this. I should be elated to have Melody's flesh and blood offspring in my life, and I am most of the time. Not to mention this kid is amazing. He is so joyful, completely has Melody's spirit, and is about as easy as a baby can be. But that doesn't make my struggle any less.

The level of guilt that I feel because I'm relieved when I have a break from the baby is reprehensible to me. The level of sadness and missing my daughter is incomprehensible to me every time that baby learns something new or does something new. I can literally hear her voice, her laughter, her love for her child every time he pulls up to stand or laughs or crawls or eats his dinner with his own hands or when he babbles "Mamamamama". That's by far when I miss her the most.

I also feel super guilty when I think about if she was still here, knowing the downward spiral that she was on before she overdosed. There's this devil and angel sitting on my shoulders arguing with each other about how I don't miss the addict, but I do miss my daughter. How do you reconcile that? I don't think you can.

I feel like if she was still here, she would be making my life a living hell as an addict, and would have probably died from Corona, because of the major lung and heart damage that she had done to herself, along with the reckless life that goes with being a heroin addict. But near the end of her life, she was literally fighting everyday to find long-term rehab. And what if she had gotten in? I feel like we would have been living the life that we had been for over a year that was clean and sober and fun as hell. There are just so many questions, and scenarios, it boggles my mind.

I found out a lot of stuff after she passed away. I found out that she was far more down the rabbit hole then I thought. She was living the addict life 100% over the last two to three months before she died. I thought that her grandmother getting sick and dying was the catalyst, for the most part. But now, as I said before, she was completely and utterly relapsed. How on God's green earth, after everything I've seen and been through, could I still be so fucking blind? And the pain doesn't stop there. Just the other day I found that my toolbox was missing. She clearly hocked it.

I'm just posting because I don't care what groups are out there for support, I still never feel like I can speak my brutal truth. Not to mention, groups like Nar-Anon and others are all about the God talk. I'm so fucking over the God talk. Can I just find a fucking group where we can just let loose of our feelings no matter how grotesque they are and not have to pray at the beginning in the end of it? I'm always strangely comforted to know when other people have been through what I've been through, while still being sick that this could happen to more than one person, not to mention hundreds of thousands of people. That's the only real reason I want to join any group at all, is just so I don't feel alone in all this mess. So in my mind, I have nowhere else to go accept my Tumblr blog.

I'm so lost, and so alone. I really, genuinely do not know how to deal with my shit. I need to be up and happy and perky for this baby, and for the most part I am. But when it's bedtime, and I'm playing one of mommy's videos for the baby while he drinks his bedtime bottle, he always smiles at a certain part, and I'm shattered every time. There's not a single soul on this Earth that knows how much pain I'm in, but not in the sense that one might think. Yes, I miss my baby girl more than words can express. But I'm so fucking glad the addict is gone. And I feel disgusted even saying that. I also feel a lot of guilt around not promoting his father's memories at all. There's a lot of resentment there, but I feel like the right thing to do is to make sure he remembers his father too. How do I resolve that?

And other logistical thoughts come to mind. Like I am going to be 70 when he turns 18. I'm going to die when he's fairly young (assuming I don't die younger of a car accident or some other stupid shit). It's so not fair to him. And I think about what am I supposed to tell him throughout the years? He's going to know who mama is thru videos on my phone, the pictures on the wall, and the gravesite that we visit all the time. I don't know how I'm going to answer the questions this sweet baby is going to have. I don't know how to tell him how much she loved him and make him understand that she did not choose drugs over him. Drugs chose her over life. I also need to make sure that I put in my will who will take the baby if I die. Let's look at the options... There's my sister who has desperately wanted a child over the last 10 years or so and is 48 years old. She's had mental health issues for as long as she's been alive. To put it bluntly, she's incompetent of having a child full time. She is also narcoleptic I think I mentioned before. Sorry honey, you've got to stay awake for this one. Then there's my ex, who loves the baby equally as I do. But he doesn't have a responsible bone in his body and is an anarchist and conspiracy theorist. He's incapable of taking care of a baby or child from a responsibility standpoint, not to mention the crazy shit he would put in his head as he gets older. Finally there's my son. He's pretty much the only one I would trust to do right by this child. But he's made it quite clear that he's never wanted to be a father. I did ask him about it, and he said that he would accept the task if it came to it. But I want someone who wants the baby, not has to take the baby, not just someone who would accept the responsibility.

I need help, no question about it. But no matter how many Google searches that I do, I can't find a single place or counselor where I can get very specific help for my issues. I don't want to let this baby down. I don't want to fuck him up either. I want to be the very best grandma and mother that I can be for him.

What do I do?

Oh and finally, I've been drinking a lot more - or more frequently. If it was up to me, I'd drink daily. Quantity wise, it's not that much. At most a bottle of wine, mostly when my ex has the baby, but sometimes after he's asleep for the night. I'm not trying to get drunk, per se. Just trying to unclench my muscles and stress. Sometimes it eases my sadness, sometimes it exacerbates it. Plus it helps me fall asleep, which has been a challenge for me since entering menopause. I take a 1/4 bar (.5mg) of Xanax frequently before bed to help sleep, and never up my dose (too scared). But if I skip a couple of days, by the 3rd day I have withdrawals that feel likey old anxiety attacks. I take a quarter & the symptoms fade. Well ain't that just the last thing that I need! I want to phase it out, but as long as I have sleep issues, a job, and a baby, I don't see how I can. I skip days purposely so it remains effective without taking higher doses. Now that I'm working from home, this would be a great time to phase out. But every time I try to skip, I'm tossing and turning all night - which is torture.

I just wish I could get into a yoga routine or any other exercise routine, as well as meditation. I know that that would help all of my issues. But gumption is not exactly my forte right now.

#narcotics addiction #drug addict #heroin addiction #addict #addiction #recovering addict #loss #death by overdose #overdose #mourning #heroin

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crystalelemental · 4 years

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Voting is complete. Now to wait a week for results that will be utterly predictable, in which no major shifts in popularity occur at all, and not a single one of the new characters, who all seem really cool, will break top 20 because god forbid the fandom collectively stops sucking EoSD’s dick for one year.

Anyway, my picks for everything’s under the cut.

Characters:

Okina. I really love Okina. I don’t get how she’s so (relatively) unpopular. Like I really don’t. She’s so much fun! Like, every time she’s in the spotlight, you’re constantly caught between what she’s telling you and what you think her hidden motivations are. And oftentimes, I think both are true. I also just like how she operates. She’s drawn to ambition and willpower. It’s why she likes Marisa so much and is determined to get Marisa to work for her, and why she’s so insistent that Aya take pride in beating her, even when she was holding back. It’s why she helps Sumireko in Violet Detector despite having nothing to gain from it. She love ambitious, strong-willed people, and seems to motivate those qualities in others. She wants to see people overcome hardship on their own merits, which, after the reveal in Visionary Fairies that she is disabled and sometimes needs a wheelchair to get around, adds a great new layer of context to this aspect of her character. Okina is a fantastic character, and my only wish for future works is to see her play a bigger role.

Keiki. Surprisingly, I adore Keiki too, despite not having played WBaWC. Keiki just...hits right, you know? You have this world where everything’s fucked, and humans are used more as resources than as people by the powerful beast youkai in charge. Keiki’s spawned into existence by their desperation, but all she can think to do is fulfill her role and turn everything static. I honestly enjoy how she’s super well-intentioned, but her actions are questionable over whether they’re effective or the right thing to do. Plus she was adorable in the Komachi manga.

Kanako. Look, we all know I’m a Mountain of Faith person at heart, and especially love the Moriya Shrine, so I’m not gonna waste too much time here. Kanako’s awesome, she’s the lowest ranked of the three, this had to happen.

Mamizou. How a character who’s so routinely important to the stories and plays her role this well is so low ranked is beyond me. Mamizou is such an interesting character. She’s like this sweet old grandmotherly figure up until she reveals her master plan and desire for power. She’s like an active version of Yukari and Okina, out in the open and pulling off her grand schemes, and it’s a ton of fun to watch.

Doremy. My blood pact to vote for her aside, Doremy does sustain as one of my favorites. She’s just...I don’t know how else to describe it but “unique.” She’s different from a lot of the cast, in that she’s overall just really nice. Like she genuinely seems to care about people, and her dream people especially. She’s got her job to do and will carry it out, but mostly stays out of the way otherwise. She’s a bit mischievous, but this is Touhou.

Junko. I like Junko. Vengeance mom who won over a part of Hell by swearing to bring chaos to the Lunarians. I don’t have a ton to say, because unfortunately she doesn’t get much play. I wish she did. Maybe in the next Fairy-focused manga. Everyone goes for a sleepover at Clownpiece’s mom’s place, and has to travel into hell and Junko’s just around. That’s all I really need.

Sumireko. While Sumireko’s fallen a bit as a favorite, and is almost certainly going to continue falling, I do like the kid. She’s a bit of an obnoxious dingus at times, but I find her antics funny. The way she sometimes just goes off on a ranting tangent that’s spot-on is just...it’s very in line for a super smart teen who’s just disillusioned with everything. I dunno, I just enjoy her a lot.

Music:

Concealed Four Seasons. Turns out, Okina’s not just a great character, but has a kickass theme song. I love this battle theme, I think it’s my favorite. It’s got such a good energy to it.

Desire Drive. Best stage theme in the series. It’s so catchy.

Lullaby of Deserted Hell. I love this one entirely because it’s this soft, gentle music that plays as you’re traveling through hell. And I mean that in the literal sense of it was once physically hell, and also this stage is a fucking disaster and I love it. It’s like why the sixth stratum theme from Etrian Odyssey 2 is good. Nightmare land with the most calming theme imaginable.

Heartfelt Fancy. Listen, SA did good music. I actually like the stage theme more than Satori’s boss theme.

Lost Emotion. Kokoro’s theme is great, and one of exactly two themes I remember from the fighting games (the other is the Yorigami sisters’). Fight game music tends to not be very good, in my opinion, but Lost Emotion hits all the right notes with me.

Shining Needle Castle. Fun fact! I don’t like DDC. At all. I think the cast is pretty boring, especially in the second half. I don’t like the collection system. The only cool thing visually, for me, was fighting music-themed enemies in a thunderstorm, which is cool as shit. But goddamn this song is good. It’s one of the few highlights of the game for me.

Dream Palace of the Great Mausoleum. I really like just how grand it sounds. Like it sounds awe-inspiring, and fits the area you’re in well. I like the track on its own, but I really like when a track syncs up with the atmosphere of a place.

Fires of Hokkai. Speaking of, good god this song. This is probably the single best establishment of atmosphere in the series. After everything else in the game, and all the craziness of the last stage, you hit the final destination and it starts out with a quiet heartbeat sound. Then it just builds and builds into this powerful, driving theme that loops perfectly back to near silence as you encounter Byakuren herself. Stage 6 is so fucking good, shame I suck at this game too much to ever get there.

Beast Metropolis. This is purely off sound, since I haven’t played the game. But you may notice that, thematically, it fits in with a lot of my favorite tracks. Softer vibe, stage theme setting the mood of an area that you’d expect to be crazy but turns out to be eerily...not that.

Faith is for the Transient People. This was a toss-up, with a lot of options I was considering, but Sanae’s theme won out. I do like it a lot, and I didn’t vote for Sanae in characters despite her being one of my long-standing favorites, so she got this one.

Works:

Hidden Star in Four Seasons. Okay listen. I get that this game is not popular among fans. I do not get why. Are you seriously going to look me in the eye and tell me this game wasn’t a relief to play? After the last four games had bullshit collection systems for resources, having a game that just played lives based off score again isn’t a good thing? Yes, it was easier. Good. Did you miss how bullshit LoLK was? Sometimes you gotta backpedal, right into the range of things I can actually play. I know some people don’t like the cast at all, some nonsense about “Why are they so familiar with characters if I’ve never seen them” or something. But the cast is spectacular. Eternity Larva’s a fun new fairy to add to the group, and her short-lived stint in VFiS was great, proving that she’s the only fairy who has her own reserve of braincells. Aunn is precious and wonderful. Okina. OKINA. This was easily my favorite cast since Subterranean Animism, and that was a strong cast. I just do not get the dislike of this game at all.

Mountain of Faith. Hey, look at that, I like the games that are simple and fun for me to play. What a surprise. MoF was the first game I beat, because Suwako was the first character I encountered and I had to one day git gud enough to beat her. So I did. After like three weeks. That was an adventure. Anyway, I think MoF holds as one of the best in the series. Aside from simple gameplay that’s actually fun instead of painful, it had a great cast of characters, and honestly the best environments. Like, this game just looks good. Maybe that’s personal bias because autumn theme and autumn is the best season, but I loved the backgrounds in this game.

Forbidden Scrollery. Hey, it’s the thing that got me into the written works! Yeah, I really like Forbidden Scrollery. It’s a fun exploration of things from within the human village, from the perspective of a human who lives there. Plus we got some of the more interesting lore bits for the series from this work, which is valuable. And of course...human disguise Mamizou. 10/10.

Visionary Fairies in Shrine. While there are many fairy-focused manga, this one’s my personal favorite. Because it’s got Clownpiece. No really, that’s it. I like the general fairy shenanigans that the trio gets in to, but I really enjoyed how this one almost focused on Clownpiece’s integration into Gensokyo. I think it’s a lot more compelling to have that sort of arc for the character, and it really endeared Clownpiece to me as a whole. My only complaint with it is that Eternity Larva didn’t stick around too. I know she had less to contribute and that Clownpiece is the central focus of this one, but it would’ve been nice to have Larva stick around and get a bit of development herself. Maybe next manga, eh?

Subterranean Animism. I debated this and Cage in Lunatic Runagate. I actually regret my choice. Subterranean Animism won out based on my enjoyment of the music and characters in the game, and (if you can believe it) my enjoyment of the gameplay. Yeah, it turns out when the game rewards just surviving, even if resources are more scarce, I do like 10x better than when resources are only obtained through flying headlong into a storm of bullshit like the next four games demanded. FUCKING IMAGINE THAT. Anyway, CiLR was a serious contender that, again, I kinda regret not picking. Bougetsushou in general was a strong compilation, but CiLR is the one that made it really stand out. SSiB was a fun silly story, and Inaba was hilarious, but CiLR was by far the most serious and poignant of the works. It focused really strongly on the characters, something Touhou...hadn’t really done at the time, and still doesn’t always do, and expanded them beautifully. We get a lot more insight into Kaguya and what her life is like, we get the backstory for the new Reisen, we get background on the Watatsuki sisters, we get the Mokou chapter, arguably the best character development in the entire series. So it really comes down to a game that I like because I can play it, or a written work that also did a lot for the characters in it. Both excellent but I locked myself into one or the other.

#touhou #touhou popularity poll #touhou popularity poll 2020 #long story short vote Okina

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razorblade180 · 5 years

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Lasting Embers pt19: Spawn of lightning

[Jaune’s House, it’s storming outside]

*Bzzzz Bzzzz!*

Yujin:*groaning in bed* Ugh five more minutes...

*Scroll begins to ring constantly, the sound of gong playing repeatedly*

Yujin:I know that ringtone.... *raises her to look outside* Well looks like no outside training today; it’s already pass ten?

*Bong!!!!! Bong!!!!!!*

Yujin:*grabbing her scroll* Tenzen I know you’re probably bored but don’t just blow up my-.......

............

Yujin:*springs out of bed and rushes down stairs* Mom!!!!! Dad!!!!!! Auntie Ruby!!!!!!!!!

*Ruby and Yang watching the rain as lightning dances across the sky*

Ruby:Wow, this looks like it’ll be going on for awhile. I sort of miss storms like this.

Yang:.......

Ruby:Yang?

Yang:Huh? Sorry I zoned out.

Ruby:You okay? Humidity getting to you?

Yang:It’s not that. This storm is bothering me though; I don’t like the feel of-......Ruby *points to the distance.*

Jaune:*swings open the door with Yujin* Guys we have trouble! It’s- *gasp*

*pink lightning shooting off in the distance. Followed by a single orange one further away*

Jaune:Nora........

Yujin:(Tenzen....)

Yang:Tsk, *running to the car* Everyone in! If I floor we can make it to an airship and get there in-

Ruby:No way that’s fast enough on its own. Jaune, amp me up....... I’ll meet you there. *grabs scythe*

[Emerald Forest]

*every sound washed out by the noise of explosions and down pour. Nora running and sliding through the now muddy landscape; cuts all over her as blood runs down her face. Messing with her vision in her left eye*

Nora:*huff* (Come on Nora...just keep moving!) *spins around firing a volley of grenades before turning back around and sprinting*

*cult members dodging left and right as grimm take the hits*

Member:Agh! Master Jericho! She’s pushing us back!

Jericho:Resilient aren’t you? No wonder she survived the last encounter. *a group of Ursa tanks the oncoming barrage and keeps charging* resilience runs out however; keep advancing Catalyst Mercy!

Nora:(Almost our of ammo, was Tenzen just late or......focus Nora. They would’ve used him to bait me) *slides behind a tree* (How did they even find us? We’ve been so careful....)

Jericho:You know you’re only making this longer than it has to be? We killed your little guardians or whatever they’re called so nobody is keeping tabs on you. Can you just make this easy on me?

Nora: *tensing her body to remain still* (They got Mercury and Emerald...?)

*beowulves sniffing along the ground*

Jericho:(Stupid rain....) I hear this isn’t your first encounter with us? I’ve only been here a couple years but you’re quite the name in our little organization. Took down our brothers and sisters over a decade ago after we jumped you and your pathetic husband.

Nora:*gritting her teeth*......

Jericho:Say, where is that guy now? Writhing in pain somewhere? I hear we put quite a beating on him like nobody’s business. Arms, back, ribs, femur; I’d love to meet a guy like that and see how the bones heal after that kind of punishment. Tell me something.....

Nora:........

*thunder crackles across the sky*

Jericho:Do you think your son can take that type of punishment?

Nora: *jumps out and blows the beowulves apart before running at him* TOUCH MY FAMILY AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS!!!!

Jericho:So angry..... *jumps back as his men run forward*

*body crackles with pink lightning as she slams her hammer down and electrifies the soaked ground; shocking the enemies*

Nora:Get back here! *clearing anything and everything in front of her with a few swings. Eyes blurry and body trembling she proceeded to right hook an Ursa Major; sending it right at the master*

Jericho:To be this strong without an ounce of aura left is incredible. However..... *points up*

*giant Nevermore feathers pierce into the ground and pins Nora’s arms between them. A long the end of one feather stabbing right through her foot*

Nora:Agh! Ugh...! *struggling* You think....I won’t get out of this!?

*several cult members lining up next to their master as their guns find a killing shot to take. The grimm slowly loom behind Nora ready to maul her has the Nevermore circles above*

Jericho:Somehow I’m not too worried if you do. *walking up to her*It took awhile but we finally have the Lightning Empress herself near minutes away from being nothing but a story to tell; on a stormy day no less. It’s kinda sad, but you’re too dangerous to be left alive. *rubs his hand across her face*

Nora:*trembling at his touch, attempts to bite him but too slow* Hands off!

Jericho:Your eyes still show no fear. Are you not afraid of death? Knowing that after this moment your family too will end?

Nora:........*eyes widen as fast as they do tear up as she continues to struggle in vain* Leave them out of this!!!! Ren can’t..... he can’t even fight anymore. My son is young and has nothing to do with this. *wheepin* JUST KILL ME DAMNIT! Don’t.....don’t touch my family...

*tears, blood, and rain all mix together as her body finally goes limp in defeat; too tired to scream anymore*

Jericho:Now those are the eyes I wanted to see. Looks like even people like you can break with enough pressure. If it was up to me you might’ve won me over; it’s not my call though. My orders were very specific. Seeing how the bird caught you it’s only fair it gets to eat-

Mercy:Get down! *tackles him as the Nevermore crashes down on the grimm; killings the majority or them and the Nevermore itself*

Jericho:Agh! What the hell happened!?

Mercy:I...I don’t know. One minute I was controlling it find then it crashed. Was it struck by lightning?

“Something like that....”

*orange and pink aura flow down the feathers trapping Nora. It wraps around her and hugs her almost like water*

Nora:*Looking up* T...Tenzen?

*Tenzen sits perched up on quills while holding another one in his right hand. His aura overflowing out him turning his eyes orange and pupils almost reptilian like. Natural orange hair with pink strip now inverted as his body crackles with a bit of lightning matching his aura*

Tenzen:.......

Nora:Tenzen you have to go. These people are no joke; they-

Tenzen:Hurt you and dad back then right; causing everyone so much trouble and grief? *his voice calm, devoid of energy yet filled with confidence and clarity* You don’t think I could just leave you like this could you? Don’t worry mom, I got this.

Jericho:*standing up* I gotta say I didn’t expect to see the runt here. So you’re their k- *Tenzen’s finger right on his chest* (when did he-)

Tenzen:Get lost...*collapses his hand into a fist; caving in Jericho’s chest a bit and sending flying back into a tree*

Mercy:Jericho!!!! Everyone attack!

*A massive gust of wind sends them flying back as Tenzen swings the giant feather like a fan. Only to promptly ram into member to swipe a gun. Shooting two more and leg sweeping another one before stunning then all with his aura shocking the ground*

Jericho:*coughing* You little punk. I’m gonna-

Tenzen:*lifts Nora bridal style* You’ll have to catch me first..... *dashing past them in an instant*

Jericho:Catch them both and bring them back here now before they get.....get.....*starts seeing triple of everything fading in and out constantly*

Mercy:Sir....*looking around* You’re seeing this too right? I think we all are; I can’t tell what’s what!

Jericho:*grits his teeth has he holds his chest* That stupid guardian of theirs is alive.

*green bullets fly out from the forest in random locations until they suddenly stop*

Jericho:Show yourself!

Emerald:Come and find me if you can. I’m gonna enjoy cutting you all down for hurting my partner.

Jericho:Mercy, we need her dead if want a chance of finding them.

Mercy:Don’t you think I know that? Everybody with me, *sending grimm in every direction* we’re going hunting....

Nora:*holding on tightly* Look how strong you’ve gotten.

Tenzen:I’m sorry for being late. I....I should’ve been here from the start. *looking at her wounds*

Nora:*rests her head and takes a breath* It’s alright, you were just in time.

*Tenzen trails off in between some bushes were Mercury sits up against a tree. He sits Nora right next to him*

Nora:You’re alive!

Mercury:I better be; everything hurts to much to be dead. I called for help like you asked. *tossing him back his scroll* It took a minute but she finally picked up like you said.

Tenzen:That’s good; all that’s left is to buy time. I’m going back for Emerald now before it’s too late. *aura slightly dimming*

Nora:Be careful, are you sure you can hold out. You’re burning through a lot of aura.

Tenzen:All the more to get this done fast. Sigh, should eaten breakfast or something. *blasts of once again into a blur of sparks and aura*

Mercury:You have a smart kid. *pulling at his own scroll* I’d say this plan is insane if everyone involved wasn’t crazy themselves. Now we wait.

Nora:Wait for-

*a massive blast of wind blows by them almost pushing them. The raindrops fly everywhere as a storm of rose petals blankets the area *

Ruby:Where...*huff* are they? *huff*

Mercury:*tosses his scroll to her* Follow the orange dot.

Ruby:It’s moving pretty fast.

Mercury:Afraid you can’t keep up?

Ruby:Hmph, I’ll catch up. *looks at Nora’s condition* I’ll definitely catch up. I brought a gift for the both of you.

*Raven’s portal opens up with her and everyone else coming out of it in the car*

Jaune:Hey strangers need a hand? *hands glowing*

Mercury and Nora:Yes!

Tenzen:*his hair eyes constantly switching back and forth between its regular color and inverted* Come on Tenzen you can do this. Just keep pushing a little more...... it’s almost a over. I just need to make it to the cliff wall.

Emerald:*approaching the wall, physically exhausted and injuries everywhere. A distinct bruises around her neck* God this better work. I bought you all the time I could.

*she extends one of her sickles and flings into into the wall. Yanking on it to make sure it’s secure*

Emerald:All or nothing now....

“Isn’t it a bit too wet to be rock climbing?”

Emerald:*immediately flings the other chain outwards as she turns around. Missing all the cult members and grimm that now surround her while the chain’s end lands somewhere*

Jericho:*shaking his head* For a guardian you kinda suck.

Emerald:We’re called Sinister Shadows you jackass. You think you’d know that by now. If you’re gonna try and kill someone then make sure they actually die.

Mercy:I’ll be sure to remember that next time I hang you and your partner.

Emerald:There’s not gonna be a next time. Should’ve caught that chain....

Tenzen:*runs by and yanks it. Emerald punching Mercy while being propelled back into the forest and into his arms* Hold on tight. *picks her up and heads straight back to the wall*

Emerald:Oh this is so insane.... *grabs the chain in the wall as Tenzen starts on the side of it. Steadily curving upwards like a pendulum*

Tenzen:Almost there! Just a little more- *semblance fizzles out and slips on a rock* .......

Jericho:Looks like someone is all out of steam!

Emerald:*heart drops*

Tenzen:I’m gonna throw you......

Emerald:You’ll wha-aaaah! *launched the rest of the way up the cliff to safety as he falls back down to the ground hard* Tenzen!!!!!

Tenzen:*aura broken on impact* Ugh, that....really hurt......

Jericho:*standing over him* That fall is the least of your worries.

Tenzen:Hehehe I guess you’re made about the bunch? Good..... *kicked and stomped on repeatedly*

Jericho:Do you have any idea how long it took to orchestrate this plan? *stomps on his ribs* how perfect every thing was going!? *kicks is face* Then you came along and ruined it. *grabs him by the neck*

Tenzen:...... *spits blood on his face* Guess you... didn’t plan well enough.....*slammed into the wall*

Jericho:You know your mommy was supposed to be the one die first but I guess you get the honor. Mercy, hand me your gun.

.............

Jericho:*turning around* MERCY I SAID-........ *drops Tenzen on the ground*

*Ruby standing in the middle of every cult member one the ground savagely beaten. Most of them near death or wishing for death; every grimm turned to stone as her eyes shine*

Ruby:*holiding Mercy by the collar before dropping her limp body on the ground* Did you have a plan for dealing with me? You must’ve if you didn’t think I wouldn’t find out about this.

Jericho:*starts trembling* Re...retreat immediately; no one survives The Red Reaper alone.

Tenzen:*vision fading* You made it.....thank goodness. *passes out*

Ruby:......*walks pass Jericho and picks him up* Not half bad kiddo; not bad at all. *walks away*

Jericho:You....you are letting me go?

Ruby:I personally have more important things to do then hurt you. Her on the the other hand... *steps aside*

Nora:*standing quietly as she’s soaked in the rain. Her hammer gripped with both hands and aura shining brighter than ever*

Jericho:*face goes pale*

Ruby:You have her full undivided attention. Nora, we need this one alive. *dashes up the cliff to grab Emerald then leaves*

Nora:You heard her you’re not gonna die. *lightning strikes getting stronger* You’re just gonna really wish you were.

Jericho:*back pressed against the wall* What....what are you going to do to me?

Nora:You’re interested in beatings right? Let’s see how durable your legs are.....

#rwby #rwby lasting embers #yujin xiao long #lie tenzen #mercury black #emerald sustrai #ruby rose #yang xiao long #jaune arc #nora valkryie #rwby dragonslayer #renora

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unsealedpaints · 5 years

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Endgame: The Tale of Two Steves

(Un)Popular opinion: Steve's ending is garbage trying to hide itself behind a candy coating of nostalgia. The mess that we got was a poorly-planned, cop-out ending arising from a combination of misplaced good intentions and multiple, non-story serving outside factors. *coughcontractscough*

tldr: one major issue I have with Steve’s ending is that there’s a disconnect between the story that I thought they may have wanted/were planning to tell and the story they ultimately told.

I had some time to digest the movie and why I absolutely hated the ending we got for Steve.

Full disclosure: MCU!Steve Rogers is my favorite.

I loved his through line. From the second he stood in the center of Times Square and realized he missed Peggy by an entire lifetime to his utter devastation as one of her pallbearers, I wanted so bad for him to find his peace. I loved that he was an imperfect man living in an imperfect world, just trying to do his best. I wanted him to find himself in this strange and crazy new world he’d been forced into. I wanted to see that he was going to be okay in the end.

Steve Rogers was a man out of time. He was a man who loved and lost. He found it hard fitting in to the present. Of course it was. It wouldn’t have been believable if he just slipped right into the new century without so much as a hiccup. Who wouldn’t find it hard to fit in? He slept for 70 years. He might as well have been on an alien planet for all that has changed.

But that was just the set up. The first act.

Yes, Steve’s biggest regrets were in what could’ve been, but that’s not something unique to him. We all have things we wish we could change, but as Peggy herself said, “None of us can go back.”

Steve Rogers is also a man who could adapt. He can change with the times. He didn’t fit in initially, but who is to say he never had the potential to find a place for himself eventually? He wasn’t shutting himself off from the world. He was trying. He caught up on books, watched movies and listened to the evolution of music. He was exploring his new world. He slloowwwly met new people - his heartfelt friendship with Natasha, his quick camaraderie with Sam, his going to comfort Wanda when she was doubting herself. He wasn’t close to being okay yet, but it was a start.

Through each successive movie, they were slowly setting him up for the possibility of moving on. The complete fuck up of Sharon’s character arc aside, they were trying to move him towards the path of finding his place in the future. He said himself, “I don't know, family, stability. The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago. I think someone else came out.” And even in the inevitable scenario that he wasn’t ultimately going to be just a soldier, they were exploring his place in the world - the one he was already in.

Headed into Endgame, I honestly thought the worst possible scenario was his death. What I got was a different kind of disappointment.

I thought he wasn’t going to make it by the end. I walked into the theater ready for Steve Rogers to die a martyr and never get the quiet epilogue he so deserved. I was prepared to weep. I braced myself for it. I was so ready to say goodbye that when the second dusting cleared, I first felt a little hollow. He’s alive. And as the seconds ticked by and he still wasn’t dead, I felt a little hope creep in. HE’S ALIVE. The possibilities are endless. He’s got his whole life ahead of him so he still has a chance to be happy in this world.

But then, he didn’t move on. He did the opposite of what Peggy asked him to do and he looked back on what he couldn’t have and he was not able to let it go. He couldn’t do what Peggy could. He didn’t think the things and people he actually does have was worth as much as the person he never got to have. He didn’t bother trying to find himself in his actual time line. He fucked off to play house with Peggy’s identical twin sister (who I staunchly believe is not HIS Peggy, because his real Peggy married another man, had kids and found her own happiness and has already died).

I left the theater feeling nothing. Because otherwise, the only other emotion I had was anger, but at first, I didn’t quite understand why I felt that way. It had nothing to do with shipping, because Steve has always been my fandom bicycle. I had my preferences, but I didn’t care who he ended up with as long as it made sense to the story and he was happy. I loved Peggy. I should be glad he got the happy ending he always wanted. There are so many people who say that it’s the PERFECT ending for him, that he deserves the life of happiness with Peggy so we should just be happy for him.

But I wasn’t.

I eventually figured out why I couldn’t be happy for him the way everyone else seemed to be: I never got a real conflict resolution. I was following a different story.

Regardless of the original plans for Steve’s through line, his story had to end. They were obligated by contract to do so. They couldn’t do a story about him moving on because they didn’t have the time, not unless they recast Steve Rogers, but that was not going to happen lest they wanted riots in the streets. So they had to do something to end it. What was the next best thing? Certainly not a heroic death. Tony took that. Certainly not a huge self sacrifice. Natasha was tossed into that role. No, they can’t be all doom and gloom, lest they be accused of being DC dark. Somebody needed that fairy tale happy ending. So that left Steve.

But the thing is, for me, getting what you “deserve” was never the point of Steve Roger’s story. For me, I had been following what was actually a pretty solid through line of needing to find the strength in yourself to move beyond the tragedies of your life and building your way in a future that you can grow into and be happy.

But that’s not the story that was told in Endgame.

They were so busy cramming him into the fairy tale they were obligated to tell that they forgot the story they had been telling in the first place. They were so busy drawing rainbows and sunshine that they forgot to consider what it all would mean for the story they were already building.

Whether intentional or not, Steve’s story ends with the implication that your ultimate happiness will never be found in the potential of the future you actually have, but that your ultimate happiness can only be in a fantasy world where you got that one prize you thought you deserved but missed out on. What happiness could Steve find that was outside of the Peggy he’s already lost and will never get back? The answer: nothing that was worth even trying to find.

As an aside, again, whether intentional or not, I really didn’t like the subtle implication that the very real family you have now - the adopted brothers, sisters and children you collected through the blood, sweat and tears of experience over the course of your life - are somehow worth less than the pipe dream of a pretty little house you’ve never lived in surrounded by a white picket fence with a woman you’ve known for less time than your actual family and 2 and a half unnamed, faceless children whom you’ve never met. But that’s another dissertation entirely.

You can argue that this is just a comic book story and we’re getting reading too much into it and who cares? It’s not important. You can argue that there’s nothing wrong with a fantasy, people should be able to have their greatest happy ending. That’s all fine and dandy, but that’s not the point I’m making.

Generally speaking, paying off the conflict is necessary in a story that has a beginning, a middle and an end. The conflict I wanted resolved was around dealing with personal tragedies and the struggles of moving past them, but that never actually got addressed. The “resolution” to the real pain of losing important parts of yourself was to not deal with it at all. It was a flaccid: sike, it’s all fine because *hand-wavy magical time travel*. It rings hollow because it was a cop out. Steve didn’t have to grow. He didn’t have to be stronger like his actual Peggy was. He was a good person and he deserved happiness, no one will deny that, but he didn’t actually have to deal with the loss of his actual Peggy for too long because he was given a new, younger, hotter Peggy as the trophy for all his hard work.

And don't get me wrong, if people are satisfied with a simple "and he got the toy he always wanted and he lived happily ever after", then it’s fine. No one has to think about a story beyond what they want to take out of it. There’s room in this world for fantastical, consequence-free happy endings. Nobody is obligated to interpret a story in any way other than their own.

But that’s why I’m personally not satisfied. I wasn’t following a fairy tale.

I was following a story of a man who lost everything, a man who was broken by his loss, but a man who was also strong enough to maybe, eventually, find his own happiness in the wake of it all. What I got was the first half of the set up that was abruptly cut off by the complete 180 change to some fairy tale with a tacked on ending about getting what you think you deserved.

At the end of the day, I’m not owed anything but the story I got. It wasn’t my story to tell. I know that. No author or story teller is obligated to change his or her story because an audience member wanted a different ending. Unless they’re getting paid for a job, no storyteller is obligated to even finish a story at all. I don’t want a do-over. What’s done is done.

I can only take the story we got for what it is, mourn for the story we never got, let go of it, and move on.

#endgame spoilers

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ddixons-angel · 4 years

Text

Fated: Season 1

Starts a little before Season 1 and then follows the main storyline of the show.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Glenn Sister!OC

Warnings: major TWD spoilers, language, violence (the typical TWD stuff)

A/N: I feel like this is a short-ish chapter but I really hope you guys like it, let me know if you think it’s too short?

Chapter 5:

A blaring car alarm can be heard all throughout the outskirts of Atlanta as Glenn makes his way back to the quarry camp. He excitedly drives his new red car back as a truck is following shortly behind him. The others left at the camp all gather to see what the alarm is and Glenn gets out of the car. He’s greeted by an annoyed Shane who shouts above the alarm to turn it off.

“I don’t know how!” Glenn responds, also in a shout.

Without another word, a member of their camp, Jim, pops open the hood of the car and cuts a wire of the car, silencing the alarm. Shane marches up to Glenn, shaking his head.

“Are you crazy, driving this thing back up here? This alarm could have attracted walkers from miles and you brought them straight back to us!” Shane lectures.

Glenn cowers, “Sorry... but we really had no choice, we were surrounded and needed a distraction out of the city.”

“If you were surrounded, how’d you get out?” Jim asks, curious.

“New guy.” Glenn simply answers.

As if on cue, the truck pulls up behind Glenn’s car and they file out of the truck. Andrea happily reuniting with Amy, and Morales with his own family. Jacqui watches with a smile on her face as she walks back to the camp, while T-Dog stands by the truck, not sure how to face Glenn. Rick gets out of the truck and towards the others.

“Dad... Dad!” Carl shouts as he recognizes his father and runs up to him, jumping into his arms.

The others watch on as Lori and Carl are reunited with their long lost husband and father. Shane has a look of bewildered and hurt on his face compared to everyone else. Glenn looks around for Gloria and frowns when he doesn’t see her. He makes his way to the back of the truck.

“Gloria?” he calls out to her, expecting her to for some reason still be in the truck, he walks back to the camp when he doesn’t find her, “hey, has anyone seen my sister?”

Rick, Morales, Jacqui, and Andrea’s faces all change at his question, T-Dog had already told them what had happened back in the truck.

“She’s back on the roof... with Merle.” T-Dog says, looking down in shame and regret.

Glenn spins to look at him, “What? Y-you can’t be serious... come on, stop playing T’.”

“I’m not... she insisted on stayin’... I’m sorry man.” T-Dog admits, still unable to look up at his friend.

Glenn stumbles backwards, his face drained of blood at the news, “Y-you... left her? You left her?! How could you do that?! What the hell?! We are going back there, right now, and we’re getting her back.”

He opens the door to his red car and is about to get in when Rick holds him back, “we can’t let you do that, Glenn.”

Glenn angrily shoves him off, “Why the hell not?! That’s my sister we left back there! You got your family back, I gotta go back and get mine!”

“Glenn, calm down.” Shane holds his hands out in front of him.

“Do not tell me to calm down.” Glenn seethes in anger.

Rick sighs, “look, I’m not saying we don’t go back to get her, but right now is not the time. With all the commotion we caused back there, with all that noise, it’s a suicide mission if we go back now.”

“Rick’s right, if what you said about being surrounded is true, we’ll have to wait it out for a few hours at least before any of us go back out there to the city.” Shane says, backing up Rick.

T-Dog looks at Glenn finally and goes up to him, “I’m sorry, brother... I didn’t want to leave her back there, but she told me to get you back there with Daryl, bring back something to cut the cuffs because I’m an idiot and dropped the damn keys... I’m sorry.”

Glenn sighs in frustration and worry, tears of fear for Gloria’s life forming in his eyes, "We can’t go now, we can’t leave at night, what the hell do you want me to do?! Wait until morning to go get her?! That’s my baby sister!” Glenn yells, his hands holding his head.

Shane goes up to Glenn and carefully puts his hand on his back, “Glenn, I know you’re worried about Gloria, but you know more than any of us how strong a woman she is, T-Dog said she’ll be there waiting for you and she will.”

“I also locked the door from the inside with a padlock, the walkers can’t get to her.” T-Dog adds, hoping that it would prove to be some kind of comfort to Glenn.

Glenn lets out a deep breath as he tries to calm himself down, “Where’s Daryl?”

“He went out hunting, I heard that he might not come back until tomorrow morning.” Amy informs.

He groans in frustration at the news, “Are you serious?! Are we really going to wait for Daryl to come back to go get her?!”

“It’s what your sister wanted man...” T-Dog insists, “guess she didn’t want him to go alone to get Merle, that might be why she stayed.”

Glenn ponders, “Yeah... sounds exactly like her... We’re going to get them first thing in the morning when Daryl gets back.”

---

It’s already been a day that Gloria had been stuck on the roof with Merle. She has her back pressed on the ledge of the building, her hands covering her ears as Merle yaps away about his life story. Her eyes closed, trying to think of anything to distract her from the man who never seems to shut up. Gloria silently regrets having set up a makeshift shelter for Merle from pipes and a blanket she keeps in her bag, hoping to keep him protected from the heat of the harsh sun; she can’t have him delirious or suffering from heatstroke in case anything happens. Fortunately, Merle quiets down for a while as he had run out of his train of thought. Gloria sighs at this silence, she moves her hands from covering her ears.

“Hey, you.” Merle calls out to her.

Rolling her eyes, she looks over at Merle, “What?”

“Why’d ya stay?” he asks, seeming almost thankful she did.

“Daryl is gonna come for your annoying ass but it’s dangerous for him to come alone. So I took it upon myself to force Glenn into coming back for us, it’s better they come together rather than Daryl coming alone.” Gloria explains, she does feel bad for making Glenn come back for her, but she also knows that Glenn has come to the city countless times whereas Daryl hasn’t stepped into the city once ever since the world ended, having Glenn guide him was his best shot of finding them quickly.

Merle chuckles at her answer, “Sacrificing your brother for me, tha’s sweet.”

“Trust me, I am not sacrificing anything for you. Daryl has a better chance of getting here safely with Glenn anyway, he has all the quickest routes plotted out, I just happened to make it so that he has to come help.” Gloria shrugs.

Another short-lived moment of silence goes by between the two, groans of walkers can he heard echoing in the streets below. Gloria leans back, her head hitting the ledge gently as she rests there with her eyes closed.

“Ya wanna hear a story from when I was servin’ in juvie?” Merle drawls out.

Not opening her eyes, Gloria responds, “You must really love the sound of your own voice... you never shut up for more than five mintues.”

Merle scoffs at her remark but continues on with telling his story. He goes on and on for at least five minutes, getting louder as the story gets more elaborate and exaggerated. His storytime is interrupted by a loud banging on the door. Gloria opens her eyes at the sound and they both look at the entrance of the stairway, both of them hoping that it’s Glenn and Daryl coming to their rescue. Their hope is shattered when the door bursts open, only held by the chains and padlock Gloria and T-Dog had set up, and walkers try to claw their way onto the roof.

“Shit!” Gloria gets up and sees that the chains don’t look like they’re going to hold up very long.

Merle is frantically shouting and cursing loudly, trying to yank at the handcuffs, thinking that would actually do something. Gloria looks around and sees a toolbox with a hacksaw, she runs to it and grabs the hacksaw then tosses it over to Merle.

“Shut up and start cutting the chains!’ Gloria shouts at him.

She then dashes towards the door and tackles it, attempting to close the door. Gloria uses all her weight to push against the door but with the amount of walkers on the other side, she is easily overpowered. She spots a broken pipe on the ground and reaches for it, her body still leaning on the door trying to close it. Once she grabs the pipe, Gloria starts to kill off the walkers, stabbing and bashing at all of them peering through the door until she is able to push the door closed. Panting, she continues to lean on the door when Merle makes his way over to her.

Gloria looks over to him and her eyes widen in horror at the blood all over his clothing and a stump where his right hand is supposed to be, “Merle... what the hell did you do...”

“Ya gave me the hacksaw... what’d ya expect me to do wit’ it?” Merle says, his breath panting and face pale.

“I told you to cut the chains, not your damn hand!” Gloria sighs in frustration, “we gotta get you outta here, find something to stop the bleeding otherwise you’re gonna bleed out.”

With the metal pipe in hand, Gloria goes to where she was sitting previously and grabs her backpack then goes to retrieve the blanket she’d made the makeshift shelter with and hands it to Merle as a temporary bandage. He winces as he wraps his stump with the blanket and looks to Gloria who’s waiting for him to be ready. He nods and then Gloria opens the door, ready for any walker that approaches. Gloria helps Merle as he stumbles down the stairs and they start rummaging the entire store for any bandages or gauze to stop his bleeding. They arrive at a kitchen and Gloria continues to rummage through cupboards and drawers.

“What the fuck, do they have no first aid or medical kits in this damn place?!” Gloria exclaims, annoyed that they haven’t found anything to help stop Merle’s bleeding.

“No medical or first aid kits... but they got somethin’ that’ll do the trick.” Merle says from behind her.

Gloria turns around and sees Merle looking at a stove burner. She looks at him, shocked at what he’s insinuating and walks up to him.

“I... I can try to help you cauterize your wound... but are you sure? It’s gonna hurt like hell.” Gloria grimaces just at the thought of it.

Pursing his lips together, he nods, “I’m all for pain!”

Gloria lets out a breath and turns on the stove, then places an iron steak weight onto the flames. She glances at Merle who is just staring at the heating metal, fear evident in his eyes no matter how hard he tries to hide it. Gloria looks around and grabs a towel, folding it into four and holding it up to Merle’s mouth.

“Bite this, it’ll keep you from screaming out loud and calling walkers in here to kill us.” Gloria says, letting him play it off that he’s doing it for her and not that he’s afraid of the pain.

Merle bites onto the towel and the two wait a little longer for the metal to be hot enough. Once Gloria deems it ready, she holds out her hand and waits for Merle to give her his arm. Gently holding on his forearm, she guides it to the piping hot iron steak weight and gives him a look to make sure he’s ready for the pain. Merle nods, giving Gloria the cue to hold his stump to the metal. He wreathes and seethes in pain, biting down hard into the towel. Gloria’s hold on Merle’s arm is gentle but firm, she holds his arm in place for a few more moments, counting down the seconds she had learned back in school about how long it took to properly cauterize a wound. She slowly moves his arm away from the metal and lets go of him completely.

“Are you alright?” Gloria looks at him, concerned at how pale he is.

Merle scoffs and waves his only hand at her, “never been better.”

Seeing that he’s still able to joke around, she concludes that he’s not dying any time soon. She goes around the kitchen to find more towels to wrap up Merle’s now cauterized stump to prevent it from getting an infection before they get back to their camp. Merle wanders around the kitchen and ponders to himself as he stares out a window. He looks back to Gloria who had just opened a storage cabinet that was completely empty.

“Ya find anythin’ yet?” Merle says, slowly walking closer to her.

Gloria shakes her head, her back facing Merle, “No, there is literally nothing in here, everything’s empty.”

“'s that so...” Merle reaches Gloria and then shoves her into the cabinet.

“What the fuck?!” Gloria yelps.

Merle quickly closes the cabinet doors and locks her inside. Gloria bangs on the inside of the cabinet for him to let her out.

“No can do, sweetheart. With ya followin’ me out there, ya gon’ get me killed. I’m better off alone, no hard feelin’s though, ya helped a lot.” Merle says as he chains up the outside of the cabinet, so that nothing can get in nor out of it.

“Merle, you son of a bitch, let me out of here right now!” Gloria angrily continues to bang on the cabinet doors.

“Hey hey hey! Relax! Ya said yaself, my brother and yers are gonna come back to get ya, ya'll be fine!” Merle says as he makes his way to the window he had been looking out of.

“Merle! Open this door or I am going to-” the sound of glass shattering interrupts Gloria’s angry rant, “Merle? Merle!”

---

Next Chapter

Yep so Merle ditched Gloria... she’s safe though! And sorry there was no Daryl in this chapter, he’s in the next one though, I promise!!

I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog!

#Daryl Dixon X OC #Daryl Dixon X Original Character #Glenn Sister!OC #Glenn Sister!Original Character #TWD Fanfiction #The Walking Dead Fanfiction #Fated: Season 1 #Fated: S1: Chapter 5

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pawtoncake · 5 years

Text

Fallen Royalty

Chapter 6

Previous / Next

Ship: past analogical and royality

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: major character death, cheating, pining, depression, murder, murderous intent, rekindling hope, repressed memories being surfaced, heavy patton angst, sword mentions, knocking someone unconscious

Author’s Note Here!: @combine-the-kitchens you had suggested top!patton vibes today, and i got a little out of hand with my royality writings i suppose,,, whoopsie daisies

Tag List: @cinnamonlilac @figurative-falsehood @myinsanity-iscreativity @sanders-sides-reblog @poppyflowerlesbian666 @hhhhhhhhhhfjaskfsagfhasfgdsakfsa @deceitfullies101 @whymustibedraggedintofandomhell @haveyourselfamerrylittlebitchmas

Right now was all about revenge.

Patton wished the meeting into action, moving swiftly as he normally would, sparking no alarm. All the guards were on edge anyway; any change with his demeanor and the discovery of Prince Roman’s disappearance, he would be found guilty.

His eyes dragged almost professionally as he nodded along with the words being presented by his royal advisor, Emile.

“This is the stats on how the kingdom will likely pa-” Emile crossed his arms, fixing his glasses flesh to his nose and sighed, “Pat, I know this is the last place you want to be, but could you at least act interested?”

“I can do a good acting Emile,” he gave a small smile for him, seemingly satisfying the advisor.

“Satisfactory Patton, now-” he looked back to the board, drawing on them. Patton couldn’t be less distracted. What if he got out? He was a very smart man… he could be an idiot sometimes, but he was physically smart. And yes in both contexts. It was highly probable, he was loud. What if he hadn’t tied the gag hard enough? What if- Patton was snapped out of his thoughts by a literally snap. Emile looked mildly irritated.

“Patton, I suggest you go rest.”

“But I assure you I am not tired.”

“Not from the looks of you. We can continue this meeting when you are more well rested.”

“But-”

“Patton say one more word, I dare you.”

They exchanged challenging glances for a few seconds, before Patton slumped back in his chair, “fine.”

Once Patton was basically escorted back to his room, it took everything in him to shut and lock his door from Emile’s prying eyes. He was a curious one, he’ll give Emile that one. After he tossed the key to his mirror stand, he took off his sash and shoes, looking rather handsome and not like he had been before.

Patton knocked on the door, earning a whimper from the other side. He shouldn’t have been up yet. Maybe he should have just whacked him a little bit harder. Whatever, all that mattered was his Prince was awake, and ready for mass interrogation during his “nap time.”

Opening the door, Patton saw his head laying back, looking out the only window giving off light. “Hey Roman.”

His head lifts up slowly, almost like he has a headache, and said in a defeated tone, “Patton.”

“You don’t look well.”

“I wonder why.”

“That was grade A sarcasm.”

“You know it lover boy.”

“I can actually knock you out again, don’t test the triggers.”

Roman almost laughed, it was more of a chuckle from the depths of his throat, settling the air like a blanket of warning. Patton moved forward, standing between Roman and the ropes that held him down. He was a good prince in the light, but stick him in the dark, and it’s all fun in his little games. Patton knew that, Roman had not.

He rested each of his arms on either of Roman’s shoulders, holding his hands where Roman could see. His nails were painted blue, they were chipped, but still there. Roman’s curls dropped in front of his eyes as he focused on not moving. Patton sighed, opening his hands up fully. They showed off scars, some paint from frustrated art sessions, and blood. From him, Roman had no idea.

Roman tilted his head to the left a little, looking back half way, deciding his words lightly, “why are you showing me this?”

Patton noted his ability to go along, twisting the ring on his finger. The ring Roman had given him. The promise ring. He had kept it. The bright pale blue stuck out amongst the marks on his hand. There was blood on the diamond, probably from impact with bumping into something.

“Now before you try to overreact, yes, this is your blood, and it’s your ring. This ring hasn’t meant a thing to me in awhile. I debated throwing it out, but figured I could use it for leverage on you.” He pulled it off, holding it in the palm of his left hand.

“You used this to promise me that I would never see you leave. Or cheat, or steal my love. But… you did all of those things to me. Every single one.” His voice grew progressively sadder, dripping with longing for old times, too stubborn to ignore the obvious elephant in the room.

“So I guess to get straight to the point, I am going to wrong you in every way you have me. I will lead you into a false sense of hope for us, then I’ll leave you, cheat on you, and take your heart, in the exact same manner as mine was taken. You won’t be free from me Roman.”

‘Was this some sort of joke?’ Roman thought, brows furrowed in confusion, “but you won’t be able to, I-I know your plans,” he struggled against his bonds to the chair.

“You think you know my plans now, but I haven’t even gotten to the fun part of this…” he moved back around to face Roman and his beautiful hair straight forward.

Patton held his hand with the ring up, before beginning his hypnotic process, “This is our wedding ring. You married me. You promised me to be my forever. We adopted a very handsome young prince, let’s call him Thomas. You are an amazing father to him and a passionate lover to me. Life is good, we are good.” He snapped when he finished.

Roman’s dropped head lifted up in confusion, looking for his surroundings, seeing himself tied up, “love, is this another kink you wanted to try?” Patton smiled widely, “you could say that my prince.”

Roman threw on a smile, “that’s okay dearest, what time is it?”

“Late, I have no clue, we’ve been in here for awhile.” He ran his fingers through Roman’s hair, pushing it back to look at his eyes. He was definitely hypnotized, as his eyes seemed to turn a lot darker. Still beautiful, but much darker.

Patton looked to the clock that was hanging next to the shower a few feet away. It was broken, but it said 4:36. “The clock is broke, so I have no idea.” Roman nodded, “Babe can you undo this, I’m hungry.”

“Oh yeah, of course,” he kissed Roman sweetly, untying him from the front.

Roman stood, almost immediately falling into his arms. “Woah!” He said with a smile, “I guess I really fell for you huh?”

“Oh shut it.” Patton said with a laugh, helping him back to his feet, stable.

“Let’s go get Thomas, then grab something to eat, shall we?”

Patton would have to pay the young boy to go along with this. It wouldn’t be easy, but he could always hypnotise Remy and pay his parents off; he could figure something out. “I can go grab him, you,” he patted and fixed Roman’s tie, pressing a kiss to his lips kindly, “meet me in the kitchen love.” Roman nodded, smiling as he went off to where he was told.

He rang for Thomas to come to his room, pacing as he was taking far longer than normal. A knock sounded on the door moments later; the door flying open with the pretense of an emergency.

“Thomas, you’re little enough to pull this off for me. I need you to pretend to be Roman and I’s child.” He placed his hands around the bedpost.

“I- um- you- what?”

“You cannot utter a word of this to anyone else. Do I have your word?”

“Yes of course your majesty.”

“Good. So, I kidnapped the prince, hypnotised him into thinking we were married with a child, and it worked. But the child is what we were missing, so I want to enlist you. I mean, if you don’t want to I can just hypnotise you as well, but either way I would get what I want.”

The young boy seemed to think, “what do I get out of this?”

“Anything you desire with things pertaining to us as a family. I can make your family higher class than even the highest class, make you royal advisors if need be.” Patton crossed his arms, eyes holding no question or trick. He was dead serious.

“I’ll do it.”

“You will?”

“Yes. I just need one thing, and it’s all I want from this, no matter how long it takes.”

“And that is?”

“I want you to bring back my sister Valerie, from the Land of Lost. She was orphaned there before I was born. I only desire to meet her.”

“I can make that happen.”

“Then I’m in. Entirely. Whatever you need me to do.” Thomas nodded profusely, confidently.

“Great. Right now, he is to join us for lunch down in the dining hall. I told him to go down already.” Patton took his hand, walking towards the door. He opened it, being guided out into a bright hallway, too bright.

He had to shield his eyes as Thomas followed him, eventually dropping his hand to his sides, making fast strides to were his “husband” had fled off to. They had heard singing, meaning either Roman was baking, or watch some movie.

Well I don’t think they considered the possibility that it might have been both. He was already coated in flour and mixing something in a bowl. It looked to be blueberry muffins, Patton’s favorite.

A tiny feeling of guilt creeped up his neck, but he shot it away as quick as it came. “Hey honey!” Roman smiled, grabbing some sugar from a container on the table.

“Hey sweetheart, I see you’re making my favorite… what’s the occasion?”

Roman laughed, “no occasion! Just really wanted to show you how much I love you.”

Patton blushed, looking out of Thomas’ line of vision.

“Thanks babe, I love you too.”

After Thomas had greeted his father and volunteered to help, 3 pans of muffins went in minutes later.

“Babe I can smell them already.” Patton smiled, being dramatic.

“I’m sure you can,” Roman chuckled, him and Thomas taking on the dishes.

Things were taking a turn for a better, to the public eye anyway. The Kings were back in arrangement with a beautiful son to take the throne when they soon came to pass.

Emile was highly skeptical of the sudden switch in them being married, after just seeing him that morning, moping over not having him.

He had noticed light coming from the door to the kitchen, he went to go see if it had been them. When he’d heard the voices he feared would be behind it, he made it his personal mission to find out what the hell Patton was playing at.

Emile knocked calmly, opening the door to a flour covered Thomas, and Patton looking highly guilty of being the culprit. Roman stuck his head up from behind the counter. “He did it!”

Emile placed a smile on, “it does seem like that.”

Patton set the bag down softly, raising his hands as his “son” coerced him into a hug. And as much as Patton didn’t want the flour all over him, he let it happen, finding the moment to be bond like, and far more believable for his advisor and husband.

“Hey Em, can you take Thomas for a few minutes? I need to have a little chit chat with Ro.” Roman wiped a stripe of flower across Thomas’s forehead, causing the younger one to try to run from his father.

“Yeah, of course, I can see if Valerie is able to take him.”

“Excellent thank you.” He put on a blinding grin.

He could see Emilie take a giggly Thomas from Roman, and them leaving as loudly as they came. Patton was almost too distracted to notice the hands that intertwined his and a somewhat worried look. “Love, what’s up?” Roman drew shapes into Patton’s hands absentmindedly, a nervous tick he’d always had.

“I just wanted some us time is all.” Patton hugged him, nuzzling into his neck. Roman blushed a deep red, clearly thinking what Patton had wanted him too. “Love, i want you to sing for me,” he said again, but this time in a slightly more suggestive manor, “my prince, please.”

Roman squeaked, looking back to him, “Pat you’re going to get me all riled up, that’s not fair.” Patton pulled a face to that, “RoRo, I just want to hear you sing, you always tell me the best stories.”

“I always aid you in the best moments too, oh my love, why must you try to seduce me in the kitchen?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Patton shrugged it off.

“Hm, yeah sure.” Roman said with a smile, kissing Patton’s forehead.

“Don’t want to let those cookies burn now do we?”

#cheating #pining #depression #murder #things starting to turn around?#death mention #tw murder #wishful hope #hypnotism #tw sword mentions #tw angst #angst #sanders sides #royality #royality angst #thomas sanders

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