#The tension between following along a path or composing your own way forwards (playing what has been written vs composing)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Turtle Takedown Teamwork.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #tulu xuanwu #Something about changing the action sequence to something gentle is hilarious to me. #The lesson here is “Be nice to turtles. They are gentle creatures. And many are very endangered.” #don't get me wrong here; I love this scene a lot. LWJ's string technique is one of my favoyrite things. #We do get a fair amount of LWJ fighting but I always loved how the theme of strings comes into play. #There is actually a lot to unpack with LWJ being associate with 'strings'. #The musicianship: Of dedication and rigor in one's practice. #The tension between following along a path or composing your own way forwards (playing what has been written vs composing) #A string is a tightly coiled/taunt entity; The same tension that makes it sing so beautifully can be it's downfall if pushed too hard. #And as a non-musical string - something that binds. Be it to his sect and family or how he binds his fate to WWX - #LWJ cannot exist without his binds. It is not something which ties him down though. It keeps him together. #And he himself *is* a bind. He 'ties wwx down' in ways that are initially negatively viewed ('come to gusu' - feels like: come be trapped) #But later it is shown how (despite being introduced as a free spirit) WWX truly wants to be bound to something and someone. #Marriage is a bind he wants. He wants to be tied and grounded by LWJ. #It's starting to sound like innuendo. Let's call his fondness for being literally tied up smart thematic writing. #Finally. Sex scenes that are important to the plot and characters

[violetnemerald]

You Don’t Know Me: Chapter 1

Gotham has always been known for its underworld. The underworld operated with great success thanks to the rich who put up the facade that Gotham was a great place to live and not one where crime families ruled. No crime family was more feared than the Wayne’s. Damian Wayne was the heir to the family business, destined to take over after his father.

Damian sat at the bar against the wishes of his guards. At the bar he was exposed, stripped of protection, which was exactly how he liked it. If he was going to be making a business deal he liked to give the other party a sense of vulnerability. With this many make the mistake of becoming vulnerable themselves which could in the end be used to exploit them and ultimately getting what he intended. On this particular day Damian was tasked with renegotiating terms with Trigon about his little drug operations. Trigon had invented and sold a little drug he liked to call Sin. Sin plagued many of Gotham citizens, both wealthy and poor, with addiction. Trigon had made the most demanded drug to ever hit the streets of Gotham City. While both Bruce and Trigon got along the tensions were still high. The meeting today was in regards to solving said tensions, or at least making them a little less suffocating.

Damian glanced around the restaurant taking notes of where his guards had situated themselves. As much as he wanted his freedom he always had to earn it through deception and distraction. His father prefered him with a guard in case any rivals attempted to take out the heir. Damian, having been trained to be an assassin by his mother, wished someone would try so he could finally prove himself to not need the surveillance.

Damian glanced down at the golden liquid swirling around his cup. He had been waiting long enough to be a glass and half in. The sound of a wooden door caught his attention causing him to turn his head towards the front of the restaurant.

Through the door two men walk in, following behind them is a woman hidden by their tall stature. From what he could see of her she was looking down focusing on what he assumes is something in her hands. Damian’s gaze lingers noting a faint familiarity to the way the woman presents herself. Turning his attention away he pulls out his phone taking a quick glance at the time. Six thirty- four great. I’m willing to give this guy six more minutes before I walk out that doo-

“Mr. Wayne.” a delicate voice interupts from beside him. A girl, interesting tactic Trigon, Damian thought as he moved to face the source of the voice. With every inch his eyes move up the more familiar it feels, until his emerald eyes meet her slightly violet eyes. Shocked was an understatement for how he feels in this moment. Damian hadn’t been expecting Trigon himself however he certainly did not expect the girl he’d been sleeping with for weeks to walk through that door. He shifts in his seat before composing himself. There are too many people around, too many witnesses, to reveal this girl as his weakness.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.” Her eyes full of panic as she herself attempts to understand the situation. Damian could not blame her. When they met he didn’t share his real name in fear she would’ve run away. He sees now that that was not the case. The innocent girl he knew as Rachel was just as much wrapped up in the ways of the Gotham underworld as he was. Taking control of the situation Damian gets up offering out his hand.

“No you have the right person. Damian Wayne.” He says sternly while looking at her hoping she would catch the “go along” tone.

“Uhh yeah… Raven.” She stretches out her hand to meet his. Her hand molds to his, the touch sending a wave of warmth through his torso, ultimately allowing thoughts of their previous encounter to rush in. She did so many things to him, including completely disarming him with the brush of her fingers. Pale fingers slowly remove themselves from his grasp, savoring every inch of contact before falling to her side. Raven lowers herself into the chair right next to him, stiff, unwilling to move in fear that one miscalculated action could lead to her life unraveling.

“I did not realize Trigon had a daughter. But I can see why he would keep a beautiful woman a secret. You are a secret weapon to him. ” Rosey lips turn upward, in addition a slight eye roll as Damian’s playful remark falls on Raven’s ears. Just as quickly the tension blew in the door it fades with that bright smile of hers. “Unfortunately it’s going to take a lot more than a pretty face to disarm me.”

“Whose says my purpose is to disarm you. I’m here because my father trusts me, and will be leaving me in charge if something were to happen to him.” She retaliates, as she pulls out a series of files her dad gave to her as she left. Placing the manilla folder on the bar top in front of them. An empty glass and a napkin, which she was sure was for her, pushed away to make room for more important matters.

“I’m sure you get whatever you want. Don’t you Rae?” The last word slipping out, as it was habit. Despite how natural it flowed from his mouth it was not lost on him, nor her, the mistake he just made.  

The panic returns this time, mixing with threat. It was a dangerous game they were playing, and with so many spectators someone was bound to pick up on something. “Can I call you Rae?” He continues, playing off his slip up as charm.

Raven makes no comment. Sometimes the best response was no response. Instead she chooses to keep a stern face and look down and shuffle through the papers on the bar in front of them. Pulling out a list of demands made by her father and placing it on top of the array of sheets. Raven glances at Damian through the corners of her eyes. He studys the various documents put in front of him, eyes flicking from paper to paper. His face remains still, no indication that anything on the papers surprises him or even spikes an interest. His hand extends to the glass near him bringing to his lips. The edge lingering on his lips before he tilts the glass and finishes the rest of its contents in one sip.

“These terms are ridiculous. I’m sorry but has your father been sampling his own product. He is insane to think that we would even consider these terms. Come back when you have realistic terms.” He stands up. The chair makes a noise as it scrapes across the floors. He buttons his suit and makes his approach to leave, but before he does he looks back at her. Once more their eyes meet and all the surroundings fading before coming right back into focus. No wrong moves.

“Also... what do you want? I know what your father wants but what do you want?” He questions with less anger in his tone before he turns to head out the door. Raven watches as half the people in the bar get up and follow the young man out the door.

_________________________________

Raven knocks once on the door, making herself known. When they had developed the one knock system she thought it was going to be just for her assurance, she now realizes that it is a two way street. They are more similar than she previously thought. Here she was thinking he would never understand why they had to meet in secret or who she really was, but in reality he was probably thinking the same things.

The door opens revealing him. A tan face interrupted by green orbs. A face that she was now looking at for the second time today. She quickly walks through the small opening brushing past him. The door slamming shut behind her. He turns a hunger in his eyes. Oh had she been looking forward to this meet all day, and it was only heightened by their unplanned meeting. All she wanted to do at the bar was have her way with him in the bathroom, but surroundings limited their interactions, which she was not all too happy about.

“I figured out what I want.” Her voice just above a whisper as she takes a step, closing the gap between them. Raven leans up her lips meeting his, desperate to feel his body against hers. With her close and without the watchful eyes of others Damian felt no shame in grabbing her hips and pulling it against him. His thumbs digging deep into her hip bones. Desperate and needy pale fingers tug at the bottom of his shirt. The two breaking long enough for him to slip the shirt over his head. As he takes off his shirt she takes off hers, taking advantage of the time apart as she didn’t want to waste anymore of their time together.

Dipping back down his lips find their way to her neck, her head rolling at the feeling. His path of kisses continues to her bra strap, stopping to look into her eyes. The only emotion she could see behind green barriers was lust.  

With one hand still holding her hips, Damian raised his other hand to the clasp of the bra. He took one side of the bra in between his index and middle finger. With his thumb he pushed on the fabric just past the clasp, the hooks unlatching from their holds. With the lack of tension, the bra straps fall down her arms. She allows the bra to fall to ground between them before bringing her hands back to his cheeks, pulling him towards the bed with her. The back of her knees meet the edge of the bed before she falls back onto the sheets, Damian following soon after.

____________________________________

“So your real name is Raven huh.” Damian looks at the woman as they both come down from their euphoric states.

“Yeah…” Raven can feel how rosy her cheeks are getting as she looks down letting her cover her face, hiding in shame. “I couldn’t exactly come out and say my real name. But you shouldn’t be saying anything, you did the same thing Damian Al Ghul.” Raven says mocking the last name he originally gave her.

Damian rolls over to get out of the bed, Raven catching a glimpse of the slight eye roll. If it was anyone else they would’ve interpreted his actions as anger or annoyance, but Raven knew better by now. He liked that she could give it right back to him, in more ways than one.

“So, shall we talk about the terms of your surrender?” His head turns to the side, just enough to see her face. His eyes shooting daggers at her.

“Fine no business with pleasure.” Raven concedes, knowing she hit a nerve. In the little time she knew him, and as much as she teased him, she had never seen him that angered by something she said. He fully turns to face her this time, any remnant of the anger gone, all that was left was his normal face, with a hint of sincerity.

“By the way, I was serious about that, Rae.”

“Serious about what?”

“Thinking about what you want. You have the power to change what you’d like, take advantage. Make sure you get what you want out of the deal. You can turn that so-called family business into whatever you want, without your father’s watchful eye. You are smart, and very powerful and make people fear messing with you.”

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

Thank you so much for reading. I know this was sloppy and well, could use a lot more editing, but I wanted to get this up today. I may at a later date edit this but until then this is it and I will get started on the next part tomorrow. 

#damirae #damian #raven #raven roth #Damian Wayne #Damian al Ghul #Rachel Roth #Trigon #you don't know me au #damian x raven #raven x robin #robrae

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [50]

v. the tinder box

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: bruising, fighting, violence, explosions/fire, near death. 

Summary: tensions with the Ice Nation come to a head as Clarke desperately tries to stop a war. 

a/n: HAPPY CHAPTER 50!!!! HALFWAY, WOW!!! to those of you who have been with this series from the beginning, thank you! to those of you who just recently jumped onto this wild ride, thank you! to those of you who may be reading this in the future, thank you! thank you to all of the love, support, comments, messages, and interaction. i love you all so much and I can’t believe we’ve made it this far! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!! also yes I know this is a day late, this post just disappeared in my drafts??? and I wasn’t able to reupload until today. ch 51 will go up on saturday and then we’ll resume regular posting next week!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

March 19th, 2150; somewhere near Arkadia

You don't know how long you’ve been walking for, but based on the growing pain in your legs and the soreness in your feet, it’s been a long time. You can't see anything through the sack over your face, but you are able to see the light filtering through the spaces in the fabric. Based on the fact that you started marching in early evening the night before and it’s now light outside, you can guess that you’ve put in about 18 straight hours of walking, no stops in between to camp or rest. 

You know that Kane and Bellamy are nearby, because you can hear the chains on their hands and wrists jingling as they move. Every few hours one of you tentatively whispers the other two’s names, despite the fact that every time you do, the guards around you smack all of you in punishment. You’re sure that a bruise is steadily growing on your left arm, but the pain is worth it for the reassurance that you’re not alone. 

You’re thinking about calling out to the two men again, since it’s your turn in the rotation, when Echo’s voice rings out loud and clear around you. “Hod op!”

Halt! You are pulled to a stop by your guard, and you feel tension run through your body at the thought that this is it, you’ve arrived at Arkadia. But before you can contemplate that any further, a familiar voice yells, “We need to talk.”

You smile underneath your disguise, and breathe out, “Clarke.”

You hear Bellamy mutter, “What? Clarke?”

You’re unable to answer him because you receive a harsh hit to your shoulder, deepening your already bruised arm, but Roan confirms your suspicions when he yells, “Reinja! Lok Wanheda in!”

Archers! Target Wanheda! Your breath stutters in your throat, and you can hear movement all around you as the archers take position, but the sound of death doesn't follow, and no cry of victory over Wanheda is called. You hear movement again, this time accompanied by a murmur of anxiety, and you suspect that Clarke had a trick up her sleeve that the Ice Nation wasn't expecting. Echo is next to announce their play, “Lid honon-de in!

Bring in the prisoners! You are grabbed by your guard and led forward a few steps until you are pushed down to your knees. You hear Bellamy and Kane pushed down beside you. Then the bag is yanked off your head, flooding your vision with bright sunlight. You blink against it, trying to readjust your eyes to the light, the world suddenly coming back into view. As it does, you see that you aren't at Arkadia, not yet anyways. You’re in the stone ravine on the way to camp, about 20 miles out. You feel your guard at your back, sword held out towards you, waiting for the command to rid you of your head. The thought makes you uneasy. 

“Your move, Wanheda.” Clarke stands a few hundred feet away, looking at the three of you in shock, and you can see emotion threatening to overtake her. But then she remembers where she’s at and who’s watching, and she composes herself. “Ten minutes, that’s all I ask.”

She turns and walks away without an answer, knowing that the Ice King will follow. And he does, dismounting from his horse with grace, despite Echo’s protests. “Wait, where's she going? What if it's a trap?”

“It is a trap. We're already in it.” When he turns back to answer her, you can see green dots spotted along his chest, signaling the use of rifle scopes on the precipes up above. You smile a little, happy to have the support. He turns and walks away, following Clarke into the woods, and one by one the green dots drop away from him. save for one, which lingers on the King a full minute longer than the others, before it also drops away. As soon as Roan is out of sight, Echo takes up command. “The king is clear. Archers, the first gunshot you hear, loose your arrows. Infantry, on my command, scatter and climb. Kill until there's no one left.”

Beside you, Kane scoffs. “This is insane, they knew you were coming. We have thousands of rounds, you'll be the ones with no one left.”

As soon as Kane mentions Skaikru having the element of surprise, a hopeful look passes over Bellamy’s face. You peer at him, trying to make sense of it, until you remember his words from last night. Octavia will warn them you're coming, you’ll lose. You feel hope rush through you at the thought of your best friend, your second sister, still alive, despite Echo's best efforts. Kane sees the expression on both yours and Bellamy's faces, and he looks between you in confusion. “What?”

“They thought they had the element of surprise, but we did.” Bellamy’s voice is low, but hopeful. “Someone warned them.”

“You think it was Octavia?”

“She's alive.”

A smile passes over Kane’s face at the thought, and for a while, though still captive, the three of you sit in the middle of an Azgeda army, hopeful that maybe all hope isn't lost. Of course, in typical “chaos of the Earth” fashion, it doesn't last long. The guard behind Kane suddenly yells out, “Look out, Skaikru!”

You all look up in alarm as a figure makes its way towards you, hands lifted in surrender, and only when they get closer do you realize that it's Monty. “I’m unarmed. I need to talk to whoever's in charge.”

One of the guards runs over and grabs him, tossing him to the ground near the three of you. As Monty pulls himself up, Bellamy grabs his arm, holding him in place, and whispers, “Is Octavia alive?”

Monty nods, and relief rushes through all of you. A smile breaks free on Bellamy's face, but he quickly hides it when Echo slides off her horse and walks over to your group. “Speak.”

Monty's arms are still lifted in surrender as he watches the spy, “One of our people has moved out of formation. I've reason to believe he's going to the cave to try to kill your king.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

You turn and snap, “Why do you think he's telling you this? He's trying to stop a massacre.”

Kane looks at Monty, his expression serious. “Who is it?”

“Riley.”

You and Bellamy exchange a look, remembering the condition you found Riley and the others in, the captivity and torture they had endured, at the hands of the Ice Nation, no less. Bellamy turns his focus back to Monty. “Riley? He shouldn't even be here.”

“That seems to be the consensus.”

Echo turns and motions to two soldiers nearby, “Yu en yu, ogeda kom ai. Tsa bants.”

You and you, with me. Let’s go. Kane immediately starts to protest, “Wait! If our snipers see archers on the move, they'll open fire.”

“I will not allow my king to be assassinated.”

Bellamy argues, “He doesn't have to be. I know Riley, let me come with you. I can stop him.”

You look towards him in alarm, shaking your head. “Bellamy-”

Echo cuts you off as she stands glaring at your boyfriend, “Do you think me a fool, Bellamy?”

“You'll be a dead fool if you step out of this kill box without me. Use Monty's radio and let Kane tell them we're working together to find Riley, and they'll let us pass.”

She thinks about this for a second before nodding at Monty to pass his radio to Kane. He complies, and Kane immediately switches into Chancellor mode, voice serious. “This is Chancellor Kane.”

On the other end, Miller’s father answers, “Sir, are you all right?”

“Listen to me, Bellamy's working with one of theirs to find Riley. You let them through, understood?”

“Copy that.”

Echo turns to Bellamy's guard. “Take off his chain.”

His guard complies, leaving the reatriants on his wrists, but freeing his legs. And then, she surprises everyone by turning to you. “I want this one too.”

Bellamy and Kane both start to protest. “Echo, that wasn't part of-”

“...really not necessary to-”

But she shuts them both up by lifting her sword to your neck. “Her twin is in the cave with the king, and Bellamy is in love with her. If Riley isn't stopped, she dies first.”

Panic grips your heart as you wonder if it’s even possible to stop Riley in a vendetta for revenge as large as this one. Despite Roan having no involvement in his imprisonment, Riley seems to think the king’s death is the only retribution. It’s hard to stop ideas like that. Just ask Pike. Your guard frees your feet but leaves your hands chained together, same as Bellamy, and Echo motions to Monty. “And put the chain on this one. If I'm not back before the sun goes past the trees, kill the hostages.”

Bellamy holds his bound hands out to Echo, indicating that she should free him completely, but she ignores him and shoves him forward before grabbing you and pushing you behind him. As you follow the path that Roan and Clarke took, Bellamy muses, “So much for building trust.”

He leads your trio through the woods, straight into the setting sun, towards the cave to stop Riley, and all the while, Echo keeps her sword at your back. One wrong move and she's ready to end you, without hesitation. As Bellamy leads you down the path, he motions to a nearby ridge. “That ridge gives the best sight line to the cave, that's where we'll find him.”

“Are you really willing to kill your own man to save my king?”

Bellamy stops in place, and turns to face her, rolling his eyes as he does. “Don't you get sick of it? Sides; my man, your king. Praimfaya doesn't give a damn about what clan you're from.”

Echo ignores the jab, and focuses only on the impending doom of the human race. “I'm glad you'll get a chance to say goodbye to your sister before it comes...unless we all die here today.”

A flash of surprise passes over Bellamy’s face, but you aren't surprised to hear the words from her. Despite all of your disdain for the spy, she’s smart. Smart enough to know that if Skaikru had the advantage, Octavia had to have survived, as impossible as it seems. Bellamy's jaw tightens at the mention of his sister, from her almost killer, and he turns and starts walking again before he quips, “If you had killed her, these chains would be around your neck.”

“It's like Queen Nia used to say: war makes murderers of us all.”

The words leave you and Bellamy in silence, both of you considering the truth to them. Has war made you a murderer? You get a flash of a memory, five notches carved into the handle of your knife, and that’s just from the kills you used the knife with. That doesn't include Atom, any of the people from Mount Weather, or the various Grounders, guards, and people you killed along the way, just to save yourself. It also doesn't include anyone you killed indirectly, a death caused because you had a hand in it in some way, whether you meant to or not. Gina. The Farm Station survivors in Mount Weather. Pike. Monroe. Lincoln. Your father. Stephens. You have the horrifying realization that the idea you've always tried to fight, the thing you never wanted to become, has happened. You’re a killer. A monster in some people’s eyes, maybe a savior in the eyes of others. But the fact still remains that you're a killer. It's not an idea you’ve thought extensively about, because the truth of it makes you sick to your stomach. Never did you ever imagine that the little girl who used to listen to stories about space and constellations, who longed to see the world on the other side of her door, would grow up to become someone who took a life and rarely thought of it again. 

Bellamy pulls you out of your thoughts when he turns to look at you and Echo. “We should be close, follow my lead. If he fires that gun, we'll be at war.”

“Whatever you say.”

You spot Riley first, sprawled out on a large boulder up ahead, gun resting in front of him, aimed towards the cave. You point and tell Bellamy, “There!”

Bellamy takes off running towards him, calling his name as he does, before coming to a stop at Riley’s side. “Riley, stop. You don't want to do this.”

“Get out of here, Bellamy.”

As soon as the words leave Riley’s mouth, Echo grabs your arm and pulls you closer to her, lifting your knife to your throat. You make a small sound of surprise, and it’s enough for Bellamy to turn his attention towards you, eyes widening in alarm at you so close to death again. “Echo, Echo, wait. If you kill her, Riley will shoot.”

He turns back to Riley, begging to keep the peace. “Riley, listen to me. Pulling that trigger won't end anything. The three of us will be executed, along with Kane and Monty, and our side will open fire. It'll be a bloodbath.”

Riley makes no move to end his revenge, his finger still resolutely resting on the trigger. “You're a prisoner. You're just saying what they want you to say. I know all about that.”

Echo’s hold on you had started to loosen, but Riley’s continued refusal to stand down pisses her off, and has her tugging you close again. “I’m done with this.”

Your knife bites at the skin of your throat, and dread washes over you. You look towards Bellamy, whose gaze is still on Riley and you whisper, “Bellamy, I love-”

He cuts you off, turning to face you with a teary eyed glare, his voice firm. “No, this is not how this ends.”

Bellamy is in pure distress when he drops to his knees beside Riley, nearly on the verge of tears as he makes one last plea. “Riley, I am begging you. I know how you feel about them, and I know what they did to you, but your life was saved for a reason, and this isn't it. Trust me when I tell you, if this turns into a massacre, it will never get out of your head. War made me a murderer, don't let it happen to you.”

Your heart breaks at the words, and you feel a rush of sadness at the thought that the last words you’ll hear from Bellamy are words of regret for the things that he’s done. Riley shakes with the conflict of his decision, warring between the idea of pulling the trigger or letting it go, and you feel Echo tense behind you. You aren't sure why at first, but as you look around, your eyes land on Clarke and Roan, now exiting the cave. Echo’s hand wraps tighter around the knife, and you have the distinct feeling that this is your end. A tear rolls down your cheek as you look back to Bellamy again, his gaze frantically flitting between you and Riley, before finally, miraculously, Riley drops the weapon with a sob, burying his face in his hands.

Echo drops the knife from your throat, and you scramble away from her, towards Bellamy, hugging him the best you can with the chains around your wrists. Tears of relief fall down your face as you realize that somehow, you escaped death once again. You feel a wash of anxiety when you think that eventually, one day, that won't be the case. 

At that moment, Roan and Clarke come around the corner, and as soon as she sees you, she runs towards you in alarm. “La lune, are you okay?”

You turn towards her, hastily wiping away your tears, allowing her to hug you. She pulls away to inspect you, eyes falling to the small cut on your neck from your knife, and her eyes jump back up to you in alarm. Knowing her, she catalogued you the second Roan revealed you as one of the hostages, and she’s smart enough to know this cut is fresh. She whispers, “What did they do? Are you okay?”

You smile at her the best you can, still upset from near death. “I’m fine. We all are, because no one died today.”

Roan eyes your group suspiciously, looking from a sobbing Riley, to your upset form, and then to Echo and Bellamy. “So, what did we miss?”

“Nothing, sire.”

Belamy looks over at Clarke, trying to decipher her body language. “I take it we're not at war?”

“Not today.”

“And the ship?”

Clarke looks at you, then over to Bellamy. “If we can't crack Nightblood, we'll share Arkadia. Find a way for us to survive together.”

Her answer is immediately followed up with a loud explosion. You all exchange looks of alarm before looking for the source, seeing a plume of smoke drifting into the air from somewhere nearby. Clarke’s voice is horrified when she whispers, “It came from Arkadia.”

The words send you all into action, and you take off running back towards the army. As soon as you arrive, Roan is yelling out orders to his people. “Azgeda, hold here. Free the hostages. Echo, you’re with me, we’re following them back.”

“Yes, my king.”

One of the guards quickly loosens your chains, and you shake them off, before Kane runs over to all of you. “What was that? What happened?”

“We don't know.” Clarke grabs her radio. “Arkadia, come in. Arkadia, do you copy? What’s going on there?”

The answer is met with the sound of chaos in the back, screaming and crying echoing all around. “Fire! Alpha Station is on fire!”

Every single one of you exchanges a distressed look, and Clarke switches the radio back to the channel she was using for the guards involved in this mission. “Everyone Back to the rover, now! Arkadia is on fire!”

You turn to her, wheels of your mind already spinning as you contemplate the news. “How far to the rover?”

“Not far, but we only have space for two more. We rode out here almost at full capacity.”

You turn to Kane and Bellamy, “You two shoud go.”

They both start to protest, but you shake your head. “Kane, you're the Chancellor, your people need you. Bellamy, you have to go find Octavia.”

They know they can't argue with your words, and Clarke offers, “I’ll stay behind.”

“No, you're a better doctor than I am. They’ll need you.”

Roan must have caught the tail end of your conversation, because he rides up beside your group on his horse. “She can ride with me.”

You turn to look at him, “Are you sure?”

He holds out his arm, extending it to you so he can help you up, “We’re allies.”

And though you’re still annoyed at his flip flopping attitude, his constantly changing alliances, you know there’s no time to argue. If you want to get back to Arkadia, this is the way to do that. You turn and look at Bellamy, who gives a little shake of his head, but you shrug. You turn back to Roan, and take his outstretched hand, which he uses to swing you up and over onto the back of his horse. Clarke nods at Roan, “We’ll see you there.”

Roan nods once in return before nudging his horse into movement, and you have half a second to wrap your arms around his waist before he urges the horse faster, sending you flying through the woods and the trees. It takes some time to ride back, and at some point the rover catches up with you, though they never overtake you. They stick close, allowing Roan to lead the pack towards Arkadia, and the bright flames that are dancing against the dark sky in the distance.

When you reach Arkadia, Roan pulls his horse to a stop and Clarke stops the rover nearby. Bellamy is out of the vehicle and at your side before you can even dismount, and he helps pull you off the horse before you can even thank Roan. Clarke joins you as all three of you run into the camp, and straight into chaos. All around you people are screaming and crying, looking for loved ones lost during the explosion, searching for someone to administer medical aid. You pause at the entrance, Alpha Station looming in front of you, pieces of it falling down in large flaming chunks. 

“I need to find my sister.”

Clarke points towards one of the flame free sides of the ship. “She was in medbay.”

All three of you take off running towards the entrance, searching for any sign of Octavia. Finally, exiting from one of the few safe places left, she is led out of the ship by a man you don't recognize, and Niylah. You point towards them, grabbing Bellamy's arm to get his attention. “There!”

He runs towards her, frantic, yelling, “O! O!”

When he reaches her, he scoops her off her feet and turns and carries her away from the growing flames. Clarke grabs Niylah and leads her away, and you eye the unknown man for a second before turning and following Bellamy to safety. When you reach them, he’s kneeling on the ground, Octavia still in his arms, her arms wrapped around his neck as she cries into his chest. You drop at her side, reaching out for her arm, and she flinches away from you, not realizing that it's you. You move into her line of sight, reaching for her hand. “It’s okay, it’s just me.”

She wraps her hand around yours, connecting you, before rasping out, “It was Ilian. I tried to stop him.”

She turns the best she can to look at the unknown man, Ilian, who is silhouetted against the destruction that he caused. Octavia coughs hard, trying to clear the smoke from her lungs, and you nod at her. “You’re okay now. Don't say anything, just breathe.”

She nods, burrowing closer to Bellamy just as Clarke runs over to you. You turn and tell her, “She’s okay, for now.”

Clarke opens her mouth to say something, but whatever it was dies in her throat, because a series of explosions rings out, sending flaming debris everywhere. The loud blasts staccato the air, and all of you turn your faces away as more debris rains down with each burst. Clarke reaches out for your hand, and you instantly take it, drawing comfort from your twin. You glance at Bellamy, worry etched into his features, and you know that your expression is the same. 

Your faces all lift to the burning station as it falls apart around you; Octavia in her brother’s arms, her hand wrapped tightly around yours, you in the middle, grip held tight by your own sibling. All four of you, your family, helpless as you watch the ruin of your home, and the destruction of your safe place from Praimfaya. 

-

next chapter

#the 100 #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #the 100 rewrite #the 100 4x04

[mimiplaysgames]

Beloved Memories, in Notes (Vol. VIII)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: K+ Word Count: 11,151

Summary: Aqua and Terra meet Ventus. It's all fine until they have to take care of him. After all, they're just teenagers who don't know what they're doing. Aqua is 14, Terra is almost 16.

Read on AO3

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day to @endlessember​! They requested: "I’ve always loved the idea of the way finder trio being a family especially with Terra and Aqua as Vens parents... so I was wondering if you could write something along those lines? It can be either AU or not (maybe you have something clever that could fit this into canon idk)." I chose the canon route. I finished this outline in... November 2018, right after you requested this as part of my celebration of 100 followers on Tumblr. Thank you so much for your patience, and for sticking by me for this long, it's amazing that you're still interested in my stories. Bless you for your support, it means so much. <333 I know that this was way out of my comfort zone, but I honestly had a blast writing this. It was a lot of fun and it's been a long time since a chapter has made me feel this way.

~*~*~*~

A Tale of Three

It shouldn’t be this unnerving to watch someone sleep.

The poor boy had been escorted into the academy by an old man - a Master with a funny name, someone Eraqus knew. After they put the boy to bed, they went off into the office to discuss business, and it left the castle quiet with no answers. 

“No progress?” Terra asked behind her. She’d been looking so hard for signs of consciousness - a twitch in the eyelid, some mumbling - that she didn’t hear him come in. 

This was looking more like a coma than anything. He was so still that she wondered if he was even dreaming. The sun beamed through his window, glowing up his already golden hair, but he was not bothered by it. It was more like watching someone in a coffin as opposed to being in bed.

She touched his forehead - ten times, already - to check for a fever, but he had none

Terra grunted. He felt bad about bombarding Ventus with so many questions, but the guilt was unnecessary.

He took a chair from across the room and sat down by her side, and they listened in silence. This boy was so young. 

The Master repeated in lectures that holding a Keyblade necessitated great responsibility, and Aqua never worried about that. She was always trustworthy

When she asked the Master what had happened to the boy, he only said,  This boy has torn his heart. 

Aqua lived her life believing she’d never come across such horror. Consequences of wielding a Keyblade seemed foreign, like there was no such thing as accidents.

Today, she witnessed different. 

“He’ll be okay,” Terra said when she never responded. He wasn’t even that confident, considering how he crossed his arms. “The Master thinks everything will work out.”

Right now, optimism just didn’t seem appropriate. 

Something echoed in the halls, but it wasn’t a round of voices. The sound of piano keys drifted into the room, too soft and distant to understand what story its song was trying to tell, and she leaned over to make sure she heard correctly. 

Terra gave her a look. She returned it. 

They jumped out of their chairs. There was only one piano in the entire academy, tucked in the corner of the ballroom. No one knew how to play it, so it stayed untouched and dusty. 

It never occurred to her that the piano would one day be a spectacle.

Glancing back at Ventus to see if anything changed (it didn’t), they left to see what the commotion was. They kept their steps light, and Terra led the way upstairs. 

They snuck into the upper floors of the ballroom, which overlooked the bottom for a grand view of the western mountains. It was one of the biggest halls in the castle though they’ve never held an event here. Otherwise, they used it as a training room, the delicate, tile floor scratched up with strikes of Keyblade metal. 

Terra and Aqua crouched behind the gold railing so they wouldn’t be noticed. 

Now they heard the melody in full. Solemn, contemplative, maybe a story about a horse who learned how to fly. She didn’t know the song, it was just the picture that came to her mind.

The eccentric bald man who brought Ventus had tuned it. Each of his keystrokes was impeccable, stringing keys together like he was sewing them. If the song was about a horse who flew, strums of the darker notes told a story of how it found itself lost in the underworld.

The old Keyblade Master slouched severely. When she first saw him, Aqua never imagined that he was able to fight anymore, let alone be able to have this kind of dexterity over the piano.

Eraqus stood nearby, and Aqua had never seen an expression on him like that before. He was always very well-groomed, and when he laughed, he did it calmly to maintain power over his breath.

Right now, Master Eraqus looked young and hopeful, listening to the song with his eyes closed, swaying gently enough that no one would have noticed unless they stared at him. 

The old man tripped on his fingers, one of them banging on a flat key that made the horse jump. “I have lost some of my touch,” he said, his voice raspy. 

If that was the case, he must have been amazing when he was younger. 

“Nonsense, it brought life back into the castle,” Eraqus said. “How I’ve missed the shows we used to host.”

“Seriously,” Terra whispered sharply, “how come we never bother to bring people here?”

The old man crossed his hands behind his back like he needed to support it. “It is rare that I tread paths with the piano nowadays. I had forgotten how much I valued time with it.

“I doubt that,” Eraqus chuckled. “You have spent far too many hours sitting on that bench to ever forget that you needed it, old friend.”=

Old friend. Eraqus used such a phrase to describe a person? Judging from the way Terra’s eyes bulged out of his sockets, it was a first for him, too. 

“It was a well-deserved reunion,” the old Master said, rubbing the keys like he was looking for dust. “Now I must take my leave.”

That felt off. 

It wasn’t that he was impolite - not at all. 

What rubbed Aqua strangely to the point that she decided  ‘eccentric’  was the right word to describe him was how he suddenly changed gears with an otherwise pleasant conversation. 

It was like he decided mid-sentence that he had enough of the mundane.

“Must you go now, Xehanort?”

Xehanort had his mind elsewhere, his eyes firing up like he had something to look forward to. 

“I had left an acquaintance with an abrupt exit, and he needs me.”

“... I suppose I can’t stop you, then.” Eraqus crossed his arms, reluctantly following.

“Eraqus, mind your tone. You will lose all your hair worrying, old friend.”

Old friend.

“Why not consider all that you’ve lost.”

Master Xehanort laughed, and Aqua wasn’t sure if he was genuinely amused or if he was offended. 

Terra and Aqua scurried out of their own exit to follow, down the stairs where they planned to peek around a corner and eavesdrop some more. 

But Terra ran a little too far, skidding on the tile and right into the hallway that left him standing in front of both Masters. 

This left them with no choice except to bow and present themselves with proper posture. 

“Your two star pupils, Eraqus?” Xehanort approached, and she could smell his age as he crept near. If he stood straight, he would have been as large of a man as their Master.

“My fine achievers, yes.” 

Those gold eyes didn’t give away what he was thinking. He took turns to study them, and at first Aqua expected that maybe he had some advice - words of wisdom that any Keyblade Master would want to give students. Some useful critique, or encouragement. At best, a tiny sparring session where they could learn from someone different. 

Xehanort patted one of Terra’s shoulders. “This one has much potential.”

Aqua never felt so invisible.

Terra stared wide-eyed. In an attempt to make up for his lack of manners, he stammered, “T-thank you, Master.” Then he bowed halfway, stuck somewhere between shock and nervousness and a need to please.

“Mind your presence,” Xehanort said, smacking Terra’s shoulder several times like he was too tired for a hug. “A Keyblade Master stands proudly. They do not wither, even in front of crippled old men.”

“Will you come back?” Eraqus kept himself composed, like the fact that his old friend leaving so soon (and abandoning a boy) wasn’t a bother. 

Aqua wouldn’t imagine why. If Terra was away for that long, she’d be really sad. 

“Perhaps for dinner?” Xehanort waved his arm with half a pound of enthusiasm and then went on his way, Terra completely forgotten.

It was abrupt. There wasn’t anything else fit to describe it.

Eraqus crossed his arms. His mind was nowhere near the castle. 

The tension in Terra’s shoulders slacked. “Master?”

Eraqus smirked. It was subtle under that enormous mustache, but it was solemn as well. 

“My students,” he said. “I have always taught you that power is born within the heart. It is what makes our Keyblades vigorous, our will to overcome darkness unbendable. We need our bodies to be strong in order to serve our hearts, and we need our hearts to be strong to serve greater purpose. We therefore rely on our minds to be strong to keep us oriented.”

He turned to face them. “And yet, what have I always said was the paradox of strength?”

It was an odd time to quiz them, yet he loved taking them by surprise anyway. They prepared their answers with suitable postures. 

“Strength alone is needed to walk the right path,” Terra started. They had just studied this last week. “Yet it falters easily to temptation.”

“Strength together is the only force that can stand ground against anything,” Aqua said. “Yet it can corrupt if not with right intention.”

“You need both to find balance where it lacks,” Terra finished.

“Very good.” Whatever troubled his mind threatened to spread across Eraqus’ face, even though they recited his lesson perfectly. “My star pupils, indeed.”

Aqua wanted to ask. 

She hesitated. He never really discussed his past with either of them, except for the rare slip up. She knew there was one other student who grew up with him. Judging from what she had just seen, she suspected something had happened between them, and it really hurt.

“Was he that other student?” Terra asked, and it relieved her. 

“Yes,” Eraqus said frankly. “And what you shall remember from today is the essence of forgiveness in maintaining that strength together.”

“Sir?”

“Terra… Aqua… It is terribly important that you continue to look out for each other’s best interests if you want to realize your dreams as Masters. One of you must be strong if the other makes a mistake. Stand by this philosophy, and life will reward you with an unbreakable bond that would empower your Keyblades and your fight against darkness.”

“Yes, sir,” they responded.

Master Eraqus sighed. The smile he wore faded away, though he carried himself with such intimidation that those who knew him would never notice the difference. 

But Aqua noticed. It left his eyes, first.

“I must admit,” Eraqus said quietly, “I am simply human. I have shown weakness in my own despair.”

Aqua squirmed in her feet. Her Master was strong. Always.

Terra was speechless.

“Come,” the Master said, switching his attitude back to his comfort zone: duty. “Master Xehanort was never a competent caretaker, and that boy needs our attention.”

That boy continued to sleep. Day after day, he was given a new glass of water that sat on his bedside table and never emptied.

They took turns watching over him: Eraqus in the morning to diagnose his condition for the day, Aqua to stay the longer hours and watch for signs of improvement, and Terra at night with his books to study, though he never opened them.

What that boy needed was a miracle, and Aqua called it one when he finally opened his bright, blue eyes.

~*~*~*~

Ventus wasn’t very responsive. 

Eraqus took a pen with a thin torchlight that shimmered different colors at its tip. He waved it, testing if Ventus would follow. “Ventus?”

He didn’t even respond to his name, blank eyes staring at Eraqus and yet never really noticing there was someone standing right in front of him. 

It was like Ventus had lost his soul somewhere, and was searching the room to find it.

“Master?” Aqua asked nervously. She had prayed for a miracle, and she wanted the stars to respond compassionately - not demand a cost for his consciousness.

The Master shushed her, and Terra this whole time must have held his breath, for he refused to move a millimeter. 

“Ventus?” he tried again. “Are you hungry?”

Still, no response, except for a blink. 

After a minute, Ventus finally registered that there was someone talking to him, and he cocked his head. 

“He certainly does not behave like a boy his age. This is most grave,” the Master grunted, turning off his tiny flashlight and rolling his neck back to stretch it. “I must seek out a colleague of mine. She refuses to name herself a witch, but she is gifted and will be able to nurse him back to health.”

The way the Master said that felt like it had finality, and suddenly the room weighed twice as heavy on Aqua’s shoulders. 

“A- Are you leaving now?” Terra shook.

“Yes.”

“How long will you be gone?”

Eraqus chuckled. He paid no attention to them, preparing a small clutch with some munny.  “There is no way to be certain. She is difficult to pin down and she, too, travels worlds. But I trust Ventus is in the right hands.”

By now, Eraqus was out the door, a Terra begging with his eyes following him.

“But Master, what can  we  do to help him?” he asked as though the Master had given Terra a stranger’s baby with a soiled diaper, and claimed it was his.

“Keep an eye on his behavior,” the Master said simply. “Provide for him what he needs. Nourishment, attention, and care.” It sounded like a simple list of instructions and yet there were so many questions. “And whatever you plan on doing for him, if he learns to walk again, do not, under  any circumstances, let him leave the castle.”

Those were Eraqus’ only words of advice for Aqua and Terra. He shut the entrance doors, and all that was left was the grinding in Terra’s jaws.

“We’ll be fine,” Aqua said, and finally, Terra breathed.

“He acts like it’s supposed to be easy,” Terra grunted, making his way back to the bedroom where Ventus stared at the wall, his legs still well-tucked under the bedsheets like he had no interest in moving around.

Terra scratched the back of his head. “What’s his name, again?”

“Ventus.”

At the sound of his name, he turned to her. His eyes were blank but curious, maybe even a little confused. She didn’t get the impression that it was his name that caught his attention but the simple fact that she spoke. 

Terra held a grip in his own hair as he mumbled. The longer he did so, the more his eyes furrowed like whatever he was concentrating on was a really difficult subject to grasp.

“You ok?”

“Vennnnnn…” Terra cleared his throat. “Veni- Vantis.” He tisked when he gave up.

“It’s not that hard.”

“How about we just call you Ven?” he asked, leaning over with his hands on his knees. “Would you like that?”

Ventus didn’t smile back, but he awed at Terra’s smile like it was new to him. 

“It’s cute,” Aqua said, also smiling at Ven. “I’m Aqua.”

“I’m Terra.” He pointed to himself.

Ven glanced at each, back and forth, like their grins were overwhelming. 

“Are you hungry, Ven?” Terra asked.

“He has to be,” Aqua said.

“Then what do we feed him?”

“Food.”

“Don’t be a smart - Okay, let’s go get him food.”

That seemed easy enough. They’d cook and clean up together, and in no time, the Master would be back to decide the best course of action. 

But when they started to walk away, Ven’s eyes trailed them. He wasn’t adept in expressing emotion and yet…

“He’s so cute,” Aqua whispered.

“He looks so sad,” Terra said.

“... I don’t feel comfortable leaving him all by himself.”

“Yeah, let’s not.”

“Okay here’s the plan,” Aqua said, her voice louder and ready to take command. “I’ll go make his food and you watch him.”

Terra scowled. “No way. I’m not owing you a chore debt.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re supposed to be splitting all of our chores evenly, remember? It was a blood oath.”

“It wasn’t a blood oath.” She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. She couldn’t believe he’d forget something so easy to remember. “It was a spit oath.”

“Either way, I’m not falling for the idea that watching him is equal to you actually laboring in the kitchen.” 

He had a point. 

“Okay, I’ll cook and you clean,” she said. “No argument.”

“Or…” He gripped her arms before she turned over her shoulder, a smirk wrestling with his lips and a glint shining in his eye. “ I’ll  go to the kitchen and make some soup… I should make him tea, anyway.  You clean up after me. Then we’re even. Okay?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Just make sure to flavor the soup.”

Ven managed to overlap his hands together, like he was waiting for someone to tell him what to do.

“Terra can be such a child sometimes,” Aqua said when she sat down next to him.

Ven didn’t respond. He looked at her eyes, her smile, his own hands, like he was never taught how to speak.

She really hated seeing him like this. 

“You really hurt yourself, didn’t you?” She wanted to keep up appearances, and give him a friendly environment to feel safe in…

But it was so hard to keep smiling when he behaved this way. 

His hair was still plastered and uneven. Without a hairbrush ready, she took to her fingers, bringing smoothness to the crown of his head, parting his hair asymmetrically for style. 

“Very dignified,” she said when she finished. She rummaged through the bedside table and the dresser for a hand mirror, showing him the result. 

He didn’t have much of an opinion - not that she expected one. But he was interested in her hand. He weakly reached out, squinting his eyes like he’d never seen fingers before. 

He hesitated.

“It’s okay,” she said, opening her palm out.

He pressed his hand against hers, like they were measuring them. He was so much younger than her but his was more calloused, despite the extensive training she's had. Maybe he spent most of his time outside and playing with his hands. His skin was also dry - cracks of discoloration lived in between his knuckles. He must have come from a very dry and dusty climate. 

Ven let go of her, and spaced out like she didn’t exist. 

It must have been the sound of footsteps approaching and the humid smell of herbal soup that got his attention. 

“Lunch time,” Terra said. He tried too hard to be perky, waving a tray with pizzazz. On it was a bowl of soup proudly steaming with various aromas, and a child’s mug of tea. 

He placed the tray on the bed, right over Ven’s legs. “There’s saint’s wort for the heavy heart,” Terra explained when he handed Ven the mug. “And basil for mental clarity. But don’t worry, I’ve masked their flavors.”

Ven took it slow, testing the temperature on his lips before taking a sip. 

His face scrunched up like he had tasted something sour, his eyes as wrinkled as a cabbage. He was too sweet of a boy to shove it back forcefully, and instead offered it back.

But Terra was dejected. “He didn’t like it?” 

“I’ll take it,” Aqua said. Even if it wasn’t for her, it was senseless to deny Terra’s divine teas. He blended peppermint and spearmint for the base flavors, suppressing the basil without removing its presence which gave it just the right kick, and a hint of vanilla to make it sweeter. 

Terra eyed his soup - a thick, murky broth with meat and potato chunks, accompanied by floating peppers and other vegetables. “Try this instead,” he said, offering the spoon. “It’s good for your body.” He beat his chest with his fist. “It’ll help you grow strong.”

Ven trusted. He picked up a spoonful, slurping the contents in. 

He sniffled. His nose turned red and he took huge exhales in between his chews, carefully smacking his lips as he churned the meat into his mouth.

“What did you put in it?” Aqua asked. She grabbed the spoon from Ven and took a sip herself.

Her nose burned. Her eyes watered. Her throat angered.

“What do you think of it?” asked Terra.

He took her advice too much to heart. “It’s…”  Spicy. “Decent.” 

Terra’s laugh was breathy, and she nearly smacked him on the shoulder. 

Ven reached with both hands for the spoon so he could drink more. No matter how spicy it was for him - there were times where his breaths almost sounded like sobs when his eyes became glassy - he kept swallowing. 

“It reminds me,” Terra said softly, watching Ven eat, “of when Kain broke his leg.”

Aqua gave him her full attention.

Much of Terra’s childhood before the Land of Departure was isolated. When he talked about the orphanage, he always did so with a seriousness that told Aqua he really trusted her to keep these memories safe for him. 

But this time, he spoke with a calm smile on his face. 

“He had a cast,” Terra said. “We wrote our signatures on it and… We skipped rocks with it.”

“Excuse me?”

“We did,” Terra laughed. Ven kept eating, and it pleased Terra more, even though the boy looked like he was suffering. “We would toss pebbles onto his cast to see which ones bounced the furthest.” 

“That’s…”  Barbaric. Aqua scoffed.

Terra was far away, but he wasn’t. There was a child-like excitement to his eyes, hands reaching over to mess with Ven’s hair, spiking it up. “Do you like this better, Ven?”

It had been a long time since she made Terra smile this much. 

She grew up with a friendly Terra, but with age came reflection, and sometimes he took that too far. When he smiled with her, it was with gravity. 

With Ven, it was a beam of light. 

Maybe it was just the excitement of someone new. It wasn’t Ven’s fault - if anything, he looked like he needed a friend, too. 

“What do you think happened to him?” Aqua asked.

“Hard to say…” Terra sighed. “Do you think he committed one of the forbidden acts?”

“No…” she drawled. “He’s too innocent.”

“Maybe he was curious.” Terra shrugged with one shoulder. “Maybe he turned his Keyblade against his own heart to see what would happen.”

Aqua pursed her lips. She was never interested in doing such things, and the fact that Terra even mentioned it made her worried. 

Ven smacked his lips a little more, breaths seeping out of each while he savored the last spicy bits of potato. 

“I hope we can help him feel better,” she said. 

Terra stayed silent. There was no telling if they were capable of accomplishing that.

Their wave of melancholy had an obvious effect on Ven, who stopped chewing and eyed them inquisitively.

“Well,” Aqua said, needing to change the subject and do something to take her mind off of this. She stood up. “I’ll clean the kitchen now.”

“Already did.” 

She had half a mind to smack him across the back of the head. “Terra, that’s cheating.” 

“Now you owe me a chore debt.” 

Terra was pleased with himself, Aqua had no choice but to sit back down, and Ven stared at his spoon when he was finished, 

~*~*~*~

It was an ebb and flow.

They took turns between staying with him and running a never ending list of errands: the painting frames needed dusting; the tiles to be mopped; breakfast, lunch, and dinner to be prepared, cooked, and served (only for the dishes to need washing). If not any of that, then they took to the gardens: the flowers thirsted for water, the strawberries were ripe for picking, and the autumnal sprouts had to be saved from weeds.

Yet no matter how many teas Terra brewed, each with its own custom flavor, Ven didn’t like them. Using potions to heal Ven could get dangerous without surveillance, so those were out of the question. 

Terra and Aqua sparred and continued their studies at night, when Ven was asleep. If they woke up early enough, they could spend some leisure time together - playing a game of chess, or simply to talk, like they would do if they weren’t taking so much time apart. 

But when Ven started to walk, their time escaped them like they never had it to begin with.

“Aqua!”

Terra’s call bounced down the halls one morning, and Aqua heard it in the kitchen. At first she ran - it was faster than instinct - and yet she had to come back to settle the stove down and remove the batter or else she’d waste it on burnt pancakes. 

Ven wasn’t in his room. A shocked Terra just stood there with no explanation. 

They split up and took laps around the academy: the eastern wing, where the bedrooms were; the back entrance, which led to the gardens; the attic, where the Master kept ancient relics and untamed weapons; the front entrance, which actually worried Aqua because there were many cliffs outside where he could pummel to his doom; and the kitchen, which wasn’t safe. Period. 

Aqua finally found him just outside the Master’s door. He looked like a normal boy, walking around like he wasn’t terribly ill.  

“Not in there!” she exclaimed. 

She held him by the shoulder. “There’s lots of souvenirs and artifacts the Master keeps in there. Some of them are sharp.”

He didn’t understand.

“Come on.” She took his hand. “We just want you to be safe.”

What a life to keep tabs on him at all times.

Ven would watch Aqua bake her cookies, which took her longer than normal because she had to stop him from touching all sorts of hot appliances. 

Ven would watch Terra polish old statues, who had to make sure Ven stayed far enough away not to come near, and yet close enough to keep a firm eye on. 

When he was with one of them, the other would fill their time with practicing their forms with their Keyblades, or reading one of their mandatory textbooks. 

Alone. Aqua now sparred alone, and she worried she would fall behind because of it. 

Aqua and Terra’s tradition of studying together at night would also be sacrificed - they’d be so exhausted after the day was over that they’d go immediately to bed.

Ven improved… slowly. He learned to point at orange juice when he wanted it, to hop on one foot, and to dress himself into his pajamas. 

And yet after all this time, Ven still wouldn’t speak. Aqua sometimes wished the Master would come home soon and give them proper guidance. Maybe they were doing something wrong. 

But it all became worth it, soon enough.

Aqua prepared breakfast: waffles with strawberries for herself and Ven, and a plate of sausages with olives and crushed chickpeas for Terra. 

They had a routine: Terra placed plates on the table and Aqua filled them with food. 

Instead of taking his seat at the table, Ven leaned on it and watched them. “Hi!” he said. 

They gasped. She heard correctly.

Both of them huddled over him, and Aqua forgot that food would cool if left unattended. 

“Hi, Ven,” Aqua said, sniffling. It had been a long time since she cried, probably when she was nine years old. She had never expected it to happen again.

“Hi!” Ven said to Aqua, staring at her tears.

“Hi, Ven,” Terra said softly. His breathy laughs began to break, and he swallowed back his weeps. He ruffled through Ven’s hair hard enough to ruin his coif.

“Hi!” Ven said to Terra.

“We’re so glad you’re feeling better,” Aqua said, also taking a hand to his head. 

“Hi!” He said it louder this time, like he wasn’t being heard.

“Is that the only word you know?” she asked.

“Hi!”

She and Terra shared glances. From the way Terra chuckled through his nose, he was relieved. 

~*~*~*~

If Aqua desperately needed a break, she’d sit in the library with a huge book titled Recipes for a Stronger Keybearer, which wasn’t mandatory but she considered it vital for her own development. 

The library was perfect for a quiet repose. Even though the book was interesting, a nap was well-deserved and Aqua found it difficult to sneak one in otherwise.

That didn’t last, either. 

One night, Terra paid a visit with Ven trailing closely behind him. 

“Aqua, watch this.”

She inhaled sharply when she heard him, shaking her head awake. “What is it?” she mumbled.

Terra crossed his arms and he had a goofy grin on his face.

Her heart fluttered to see it, but she kept her expression firm. That wasn’t what she was supposed to be feeling - she was supposed to be happy that Terra was this excited.

But her heart also dropped to see it. She couldn’t even recall if they even had a conversation to themselves yesterday, and if they did, what they talked about. 

Terra quieted his laughter. “Watch, watch,” he whispered. 

He took a few steps, pretending he wasn’t scheming.

Ven blinked at first, then followed.

Then Terra stopped.

Ven ran into him. 

Terra walked again, and Ven followed. 

Terra stopped. Ven crashed. 

Aqua had to snort at the sight. It was so cute - so damn cute that her chest crushed itself. It was unbecoming of a Keybearer to be so swayed by emotion, but she refused to fight it. “You’re so smart, Ven,” she cooed, skipping over to hug him around the shoulders. 

Even if all Ven could do was stare at her with those big, blue eyes and a blank expression, it made her smile.

“Hi,” he said quietly. 

Suddenly, she was perked up and awake.

And Terra was here. What perfect timing, they could all do something together in those last twenty minutes before bedtime. 

“You know what I’ve been reading?” she asked Terra. She held the book’s cover up for him to read. Anything that would help him get better at wielding his Keyblade was right up his alley, especially if it was good food. 

“That looks interesting-” 

Ven tugged on Terra’s pants by the waist.

“Okay, okay,” Terra said, petting Ven on the head. “Sorry, Aqua, I guess he’s tired-”

Ven tugged again, and pointed to the window, whimpering.

The library’s windows were theaters in their own right. As tall as monuments, they were a gateway to the outside, and it was (almost) as if they were standing right outside. 

It was a clear night, and they had a front seat view at the stars. 

Without waiting for Terra, Ven hurried and pressed his face against the glass to stare up.

So she wasn’t going to have any time with Terra. That was fine. Tending to Ven was more important, anyway. 

“Aren’t they nice?” Terra asked, who failed miserably at pulling Ven’s attention away.

Aqua took Ven’s other side, kneeling over so she could speak to him more directly. “Isn’t that one the prettiest?” she asked, pointing a finger against a glass plate at the largest star from this side of the mountains.

Ven pressed his palms against the window, as if he wanted to touch it. “Hi,” he said. Whether to them or to the star, it was hard to tell. 

Whatever joy Terra had with him had ran away from his face. “Sometimes I wonder if we’ll never help him heal. He never wants to smile.” Stating that truth hurt Aqua in the heart. “I just want to know what he’s thinking…”

Aqua pouted. Such interest in the stars had to account for something, some proof that he was slowly getting better and wanted more out of life, right?

She smiled at Ven, who only gave her a passing glance. He was still precious. “All we can do,” she said, gently brushing through his hair, “is accept him for who he is.”

Terra nodded firmly, willing his frown into a smile. “We’ll show you the stars on the other side of the castle, Ven,” he said softly. “They’re just as cool, you’ll like them.” 

Ven yawned, pressing his forehead against the glass and closing his eyes.

“See,” Terra said, chuckling through his nose. “I knew you were tired.” He grabbed Ven’s hand -  the signal that it was time to move. Ven promptly complied and kept close. 

“I guess…” Aqua started, making her way back to her book. Would it be a surprise if she didn’t get any pleasure out of reading her book, now that she’d be alone? “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yep.” Terra took Ven on their way out of the library. “Good night.”

The first three sentences on the open page blurred together and Aqua couldn’t recall what any of them said. She could actually just spend those last minutes of the night with them, instead.

Well, she shouldn’t really interrupt bedtime, and Terra was very protective of the chores he shared with her, holding on to her debt for the day he needed it. 

But she had enough silence to last a week, and she had no Terra in her life like she used to, and to grasp what little she had left, Aqua couldn’t help herself.

Following them was the easiest choice she had made in a while.

Ven’s door was wide open, its only light shining down the hallway as all of the other bedrooms, hers and Terra’s included, were vacant. 

Hiding behind the wall, she peeked inside. 

Ven sat on the bed, tucking his knees in. He gazed out at the stars, leaning his entire weight on the marble windowsill to the point that he would fall over if there wasn’t a window in his way. Terra tossed toys aside - stuffed animals, wooden blocks, plastic cars, blankets, and all sorts of trinkets from random worlds that used to belong to him. Pretty soon, she expected the Master to give the same courtesy and get Ven new things from the worlds he visited. 

“Gotta make the bed,” Terra said, pulling Ven from his armpits. 

He flung Ven around, in circles, fast enough to make Ven’s feet pick up in the momentum, like he was flying, whirling like an umbrella caught in a storm.

It was only Terra that laughed, but if Ven didn’t like it, he’d whimper. 

If anything, Aqua’s heart thumped at the sight. Terra was always strong, so picking up a boy half his weight was no big deal. The way he interacted with Ven was sweet and courteous, something she admired and respected.

But it was the laughter that hit her the hardest. She didn’t realize how much she missed it. 

“Okay,” Terra said, slowing to a stop. “That’s enough.”

He landed Ven by the table, and went on to make the bed (poorly, he rushed it). 

Aqua finally stepped through. “Can I hang out?”

“If it’s not intruding on your personal time.” Terra measured the bedsheet with the comforter, aligning the two. He was surprised to see her, and he gave her a half-smirk. Even that made her draw heat to her ears.

“It’s not.” 

Ven rummaged through his drawers, pulling out paper and jars of paint. Finger painting had become his favorite pastime, and despite Aqua offering numerous paint brushes to encourage such an interest, he refused all of them. 

“Then you are welcome in my presence,” Terra said, lazily layering the sheets onto the bed. 

She sat next to Ven, watching him twist the jars open. 

Before he started… “Ven,” she said, “can you draw me a picture of where you’re from?”

“That’s a good idea.” Terra left the bed and the rest of the mess, looking over Ven’s shoulder. 

“Hi,” Ven said. It wasn’t inquisitive, it wasn’t confused. The way he said it made him sound content, even if he can’t smile, like a zombie who loved art. 

“Yes, hi,” Aqua said, running a light hand through his hair. She tapped at the blank page. “Can you do that for me?”

Ven took a moment to stare at the blank page. He opened a jar of rusty orange, and dipped his finger in, making huge sweeps across the bottom of the page.

His finished painting was very basic: a mass of orange and brown, with a tall plateau in the background. 

In fact, Terra stammered, like he expected there to be more. 

Aqua looked hard. It offered no other clues. “It looks like a desert.”

Terra cocked his head. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Where are the houses?”

“... It’s creepy.”

“There aren’t any people around, either.”

Terra sighed. “Maybe he doesn’t remember them.”

Her heart sank. 

“I’m glad you found us, Ven,” she said, giving him a smile that he didn’t return.

“Hi.” 

She sighed, too. She was about to ask if he could draw his old friends, but she didn’t want to make him upset. Eraqus only took children who had no family left, and despite that it had been years since she arrived, she had to be in a specific mood to be able to talk about her parents. She probably already exhausted all of her strength talking about them with Terra. 

“Come on, Ven,” she said sweetly. His eyebrows curled up, like he was lost and was waiting for someone to find him. She got the gut-wrenching feeling that his painting made him upset. It was the way he hung his head. “Let’s wash up.”

She guided him by his elbow to the washroom.

“Do you think we could take him out?” Terra asked before they reached the door.

“What do you mean?”

“Outside.” 

She stopped. Ven stopped as well, looking up at her with his hands in the air as though he wasn’t allowed to wash his wands. “The Master said we shouldn’t take him outside.”

“It’s not like we’re letting him explore the woods. The gardens are safe.” Terra leaned onto one of the chairs, one hand on his hip. “We’ll keep watch over him.”

“But the Master-”

“Do you actually think,” Terra frowned, “it’s good for him to be locked inside the castle at all hours?”

Aqua paused. She wanted to say that if the Master thought Ven should stay in the castle, then it was for good reason… But  what reason? 

“I want him to enjoy himself,” Terra said quietly, looking over at the lonely picture on the table. A thought passed through Aqua’s mind that they should trash it. “We can each hold his hand so he doesn’t wander off.”

If they were both holding on to him, then surely…

“Okay.” 

She placed a hand behind Ven’s shoulder to continue on their way.

“Hey.” Terra was skeptical, both hands leaning back on the chair now. “He knows how to wash his hands.” 

She rolled her eyes - she honestly had more dignity than that. “He still needs supervision.”

Terra clicked his tongue. “It doesn’t count as payment.”

“Of course it won’t. I don’t cheat.” She pointed her nose up at him. 

She led Ven to the sink. He was taught to scrub in between his fingers, and to focus under his fingernails. When he was finished, she pointed to her own cheek - there was a spot of paint left on his, and he turned the water on again to finish the job. 

Only when Ven put on a clean shirt did Terra take his left hand and Aqua his right. They walked him to the back entrance of the castle, where golden gates designed with grape and vine filigree were kept locked. 

Two lamps marked the outside entrance to the gardens, which were split in two by a concrete pathway that stopped at the fields beyond, where evergreen trees cloaked the horizon. It was a clear night, with gentle winds blowing. 

“It’s a little nippy,” Aqua said, checking on Ven to see if he was shivering. He wasn’t, but she adjusted his shirt to cover his chest properly anyway (it already was, she was being paranoid).

“Let’s stop here,” Terra said, taking a seat onto the steps the led down into the flower bed.

They held Ven tightly, and when he sat down with him, they didn’t let go. 

“Look, Ven,” Terra said, pointing up into the sky. 

It took a moment for Ven to look up since he was mesmerized by towers of speedwell flowers and strawberry vines.

But when he followed, a loud “Woooohhhh” left his lips.

And he smiled. He laughed. He laughed harder as he leaned back to look for the stars that disappeared behind the castle, and to the left to find more stars beyond the mountains. There wasn’t a way to count all of them. 

Aqua cried for the second time, when that was something she promised never to do again. Exchanging a hand for the one that held Ven’s, she wrapped her free arm around his shoulders and listened to him giggle, felt him hop in excitement under her weight. 

A stronger arm held over her and Terra’s head rested on hers, while a young boy shook their hands so they could pay attention and look up, too.

~*~*~*~

The next morning, Ven woke up with a cough.

He also had a runny nose and a fever. Aqua tucked him under fleece blankets up to his chin for the chills. 

Terra went straight to work in the kitchen, mixing lemongrass and sage into his chicken broth for the symptoms. He refused help from Aqua. 

Aqua knew what he was doing to himself. “It’s not your fault, Terra.”

Terra didn’t reply. He continued to stir with his ladle. 

“I can slice some oranges for him-”

“Aqua, I said I’ll handle it.” He glanced at her. “I’m not adding to your chore debt, don’t worry.”

“That has nothing to do with anything.” She pursed her lips. Sometimes when Terra got upset, he needed space - a lot of it - but she already spent so much time away from him. She watched the meat boil from over his shoulder. “Would it make you feel better if I didn’t say, I told you so?”

He smirked. “You have every right.”

“It is good to be right.” She fiddled with her nails, and he smiled. Good. “But I still won’t say it.”

“I got what I wanted, so I’ve already said it to myself.” He added more pepper. 

“We all get sick. It was going to happen anyway.”

“...There’s still more for me to do,” Terra said with a low voice. “I have to make amends.”

She highly doubted that Ven would be the kind of boy to blame Terra for this, but she let it go. 

Terra asked her to stay by Ven’s side for the time being. She spent the entire day with Ven - Terra would check in every now and then, taking laps between the kitchen and the library as he continued to look up herbs for common colds that he could sneak into food, and even magical ingredients that could speed up the process. 

By night, Terra had visited the bedroom only five times for ten minute sessions. Aqua found it hard to believe that researching tea would swallow this much time but Terra liked to be thorough. 

Ven took to folding paper in his hands into disfigured halves when he finished his third bowl of soup and got bored of other toys. 

Terra came in, this time with sacks filled with bed pillows and couch pillows and throw pillows, some plain, others embroidered. 

“We’re building a pillow fort,” he announced.

He left and came back with blankets, clothespins, string, and broken broomsticks. Ven watched on as they went to work hanging and pinning the sheets around his bed, making a deep, tall cave.

“Lights?” Aqua asked as they pinned the last of them. 

“Got it covered,” Terra said, a triumphant smile on his face.

Coming back with a lamp and a cardboard box, he announced the pillow fort was ready. 

They crawled onto Ven’s bed and pinned the open side of the blankets to a close. With the lit lamp, Terra covered it with the cardboard box, which had several holes cut into it. 

A slew of five-pointed stars covered the entire fort. They were symmetrical and slick, as though Terra took the time to sandpaper his carved art.

It made Ven happy, especially since he was able to run his hand against the fabric and trace their shapes, one by one. 

Aqua was warm - not just from sitting under so many blankets, but from the gesture. Terra always had a big heart, even though he was too reclusive to show it. He was sensitive, and yes, he took things too personally sometimes, but that was part of his charm. 

If anyone had harmed someone he was close to, he’d feel their pain and take it personal with them.

Building a pillow fort was the sort of thing Terra would do when she fell sick, too. She still had the custom cardboard box he carved for her when he was eleven. 

“This is beautiful, Terra,” she said softly. 

Terra hugged his knee tightly and bowed his head. 

“I didn’t mean to make you sick,” he said, watching Ven jab at a star, totally forgetting they were even there. “I’m so sorry, Ven.”

Ven looked at him with a toothy smile. “I’m so sorry, Ven,” he parroted, sounding happy like he didn’t fully understand what it meant.

Aqua was strong enough to hold back the tears this time.

~*~*~*~

The moment she was jerked awake from a dream she didn’t remember, she knew it was going to be an unusual day. 

“Terra,” she spit. “What do you want?”

“I need your help.”

She sprung up, throwing her legs over the bed. “What happened to Ven?”

“Nothing, he’s not awake yet.” Terra shrugged and turned over to leave. 

“Ugh,” she groaned, slugging over her feet to follow. “Then… why?”

“We got a message from the Master.” He didn’t look back but hurried into his own bedroom, throwing himself onto the floor to grab his clean clothes and stuff them into his bottom dresser drawer. “He’s coming.”

Aqua sighed. “Thank goodness.” Then she perked up. “I can’t wait for him to see Ven’s progress.” Then she worried. “Oh no, he’ll notice he’s sick.”

“Yeah, that’s-” Terra looked over his shoulder, and found one sock. “It’ll be fine. But I need you to help me clean.”

She scoffed. “Seriously? Feeding Ven is so much more important.”

“He’s not awake yet.” Terra gesticulated like he was begging. “You owe me a chore debt, don’t forget that.”

“And this is your idea of a brilliant payment?”

“Aqua.”

She exhaled through her nose and brought herself down on her knees. She wondered if Terra liked to annoy her just because he thought it was funny. 

The way he was overstuffing his drawer made her eyebrow twitch - they were all going to get wrinkled. Instead of helping him pick up anything else, she folded everything he put away. 

“Why is this an emergency?” she asked with the sarcasm she wanted to slap him with. 

“My nanny is coming.”

She stopped folding. “You had a nanny?”

Terra chuckled, crawling around the carpet to grab more random pieces of clothing, handing her two pairs of briefs. “Before you came, yeah. The Master wasn’t going to leave me all alone in a castle when I was six.”

“She’s the witch who’s going to perform miracles on Ven?” Aqua pulled out the matching sock which was hidden behind a roll of shirts.

“Yep.” Terra watched the window. For what sign, she didn’t know.

“If it’s so important to have your room clean,” she said, opening a drawer he just closed to fold the clothes he threw in there, “why didn’t you plan for it ahead of time?”

She heard him gasp. The wind outside was picking up speed, pushing against the windows. “She’s here,” he said, scurrying on his feet and racing out of his room. “We should wake up Ven and get him ready.”

It would have left his bedroom half messy but Aqua considered her debt paid. 

They found him sneezing to the point that his mucus ran down to his lips, and Aqua cleaned him up with a tissue. Terra scuffled to throw random toys into a chest, even though some of them belonged on the shelf - anything to make it look cleaner. Ven didn’t have a fever anymore, and Terra guided him to stand up. 

Aqua was going to ask what kind of nanny were they expecting, only to hear two voices approaching.

“We will of course accommodate you with the most extravagant room we can offer.” That was the Master’s voice. “Right next to the boy’s room.”

He and his guest didn’t bother to stop in the lounge or the dining room to wind down, instead they came straight here. Upon entering, the woman took a slow, condescending look around the chaos of a bedroom. The most remarkable thing about her was her black boater hat, adorned in flowers. She had incredibly perfect posture, pinned up in a long petticoat, and she parted her feet wide enough to look like it hurt. This woman must have traveled a lot: in one hand was a huge carpet bag, and in the other was an umbrella. 

“Terra,” said the woman, “how lovely it is to see you again.” She spoke kindly… yet not too casual or inviting. Aqua had the immediate impression that this woman, however warm, was not to be messed with.

“Ms. Poppins.” Terra bowed. 

“Aqua,” the Master said. “This is Mary Poppins, she will be taking care of Ventus until he is clear of his illness.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Aqua said, also bowing. 

“Very cordial, you’ve raised them well, Eraqus.” Mary Poppins left her bag and umbrella on the desk to remove her hat and scarf. 

The Master stepped forward, inspecting Ven closely. “Everything went smoothly, I presume?” Terra and Aqua threw the quickest glances at each other as they could. “How are you, Ventus?”

Ven sneezed. “I’m so sorry, Ven,” he said, wiping his nose with his forearm.

“Pardon?”

Aqua jittered. She hated lying, and hated the fact that she was getting better at it. “W-we opened the windows for him one night to give him some fresh air.” She rolled her lips inward. “That was a bad idea, we’re sorry.”

Terra struggled to hide a smirk, and Aqua really wanted to step on his foot for being such a bad influence on her. 

The Master didn’t seem concerned about it, petting through Ven’s hair. “‘Tis a seasonal thing. I am happy to hear that Ventus is speaking at least.”

“I’m so sorry, Ven,” said Ven again, louder this time.

“Eraqus,” Mary Poppins said, tisking at Ven’s condition and taking a measuring tape with her. “All this time, I believed you were exaggerating, yet I was so suspicious of myself for even considering that of you.”

The Master chuckled, giving her space. “I am ever the serious one.”

“To a fault.” She measured Ven with the tape from crown to foot. “Don’t slouch.”

Ven grabbed the tape. “Hi.”

“Now, Ventus,” she said firmly. “A respectable young gentleman keeps his hands to himself.”

“Ven,” he said, drawing his hand back. “I’m so sorry, Ven.”

Plucking the tape with her thumb, she read: “Sweet-natured, yet disturbed and shocked. Unable to recall where he is. Broken-hearted.” 

There was no way a measuring tape told her this. What in the world…?

Ms. Poppins tisked, shaking her head. “Terrible condition, this will not do.” Turning to the Master, she nodded. “I will stay until he grows a proper notch.”

“It is much appreciated.” Eraqus wrapped his arms across each other. “Terra, Aqua, thank you for looking after Ven. Your hard work has shown excellent progress, and I am confident Ms. Poppins will be able to lead him to proper health.”

“Sir.” They bowed. 

The Master rubbed his beard. “You may now be dismissed. Please focus on your training for today. I have been wary of being away without supervising your work for this long.”

“Master?” Aqua asked, lagging behind while Terra immediately followed orders. “Will Ven stay with us?”

Eraqus paused at his mustache. Mary Poppins was already uncorking an unlabeled medicinal bottle and preparing a spoon. 

“Of course he will,” the Master said. “Granted he will completely recover, I aim to train him as a Keyblade wielder.”

It brought Aqua some relief, yet it did little for the unease left in her stomach. It meant she had to give Ven away to others to be looked after. It meant not knowing what he was doing, or if his coughing got better, or where he was at all hours.

Mary Poppins poured medicine onto the spoon, and Ven didn’t even reject it. He treated Terra’s teas worse. 

“You’ve heard the Master,” Mary Poppins said after a second too long of Aqua staying in her place. She corked her bottle. “You are welcome to visit when you are finished, but you’ll get nowhere dawdling all day. Spit spot.” 

The authority in her voice kicked Aqua into speed as she hurried out to the ballroom.

But Terra wasn’t very interested in sparring, either. He barely put effort into it, letting his mind wander in between stances and quick duels - especially when they got too repetitive. They were so mindless about their work that they didn’t even scar the gold floor tiles this time. 

“Let’s focus,” Aqua said. “If we finish what we need to do faster, we can make sure Ven’s okay.”

“Hm?” Terra rested Earthshaker on his shoulder and a hand on his hip. “Ven’s definitely going to be okay. I’m not worried about that - it’s just weird being away from him.”

Aqua let her smile fall. “... I am,” she said quietly.

“Don’t be.” Terra’s smile was just like she was used to: sincere, but timid. Nothing like what he was showing when they were hanging out with Ven. “Ms. Poppins… has her ways.” 

“What kind of witch is she?”

“Don’t call her that. She’ll deny it.” He scoffed. “She’s a prim and proper lady, and she won’t make you forget that.”

“But she’s good at what she does?”

“Definitely.” Terra let his smile soften. “I hated it when the Master left, but she always made it better. We went on so many adventures in the castle.”

That was hard for Aqua to believe - and not just because she couldn’t imagine a prim and proper lady getting her dress dirty. They had addressed each other so formally, like she was just as much of a Master as Eraqus or Xehanort that Terra needed to show obedience to.

Terra read her expression well. “She’s a bit strict and old-fashioned, but you’ll see,” he said like it was a good enough explanation.

“Ah.” Aqua leaned Rainfell onto the floor. “That’s why the Master gets along with her.”

Terra snorted.

They were finally allowed to see Ven later that night - but only after the Master sat them down for three excruciating tests. Aqua performed poorly in one because she didn’t have Terra as a sparring partner, and Terra failed two because he was too busy to read his mandatory textbooks.

The Master promised not to count any of it against them, and they would have re-testing done in the upcoming weeks.

~*~*~*~

“He likes the stars, Ms. Poppins,” Terra said when they found her sitting on a rocking chair with yarn and a crochet needle on her lap.

It was a bit disappointing to see that she completely tore down the pillow fort they had made.

Ven paced around his room attempting to snap his fingers, and Aqua didn’t understand why or how he learned how to do that.

“Very well.” Ms. Poppins looked down on her handiwork before getting distracted. “Ven, kindly sit yourself in bed, please. You can diddle-daddle once you are better.”

Instead of listening to her, Ven leaned on her armrest, tilting his head at the sight of yarn. “Hi.”

She exhaled through her nose as though snorting was beneath her. “I shall teach you to address your peers properly, soon enough.”

“Ms. Poppins,” Terra said, “he’s okay to walk around, right?” 

“Terra,” she warned, with a glint of mischief in her eyes, “mind your intentions.”

He smirked. “I do. I’m responsible.”

She let go of her work to open up her arms, Ven picking up one of the tails of yarn. 

If she didn’t believe Terra, Aqua couldn’t blame her. 

She didn’t know Ms. Poppins well. Aqua didn’t have a clue how to approach the subject, and she found herself with both her fists to her chest. “We haven’t been with him all day. Can we spend some time with him, please?” 

Ms. Poppins watched Ven untangle all of her progress, to the point where she would have to crochet from scratch. “I suppose that’s alright. You can take him but he needs to be back in bed before the hour. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Terra said, gently pulling knots of yarn woven over Ven’s fingers. 

“Be sure to follow the stars on your way out,” Ms. Poppins said as they left.

Which left a chill up Aqua’s spine, stiffening the ends of her hairs. Did she know somehow?

That had to be impossible. 

“What did she mean by that?” she asked Terra, taking Ven down the largest hallway that would eventually lead them to the center of the castle. The further they walked, the darker the hallways became, with barely a lit lantern to light their way. It was as if someone turned off all the lights.

Terra scoffed at the sight of Aqua’s worry. “I told you not to think too hard about it. She always means well.”

He stopped, holding his free hand to his chin as Ven pulled on his other. “Usually there’s some pretty awesome surprises. Maybe we should find a good place to stargaze?”

“She said to follow the stars, though.”

“Like constellations?” Terra snapped his fingers, which mesmerized Ven’s attention. “Maybe the north star. We should go to the north side of the castle.” 

Aqua didn’t quite hear that last part. Right past Terra’s shoulder was a glowing light that twinkled up against the wall, riding it up.

“What is that?” she said.

Ven gasped and charged with such a force that he slipped off their grip. He touched it, and it burst into a cascade of shining lights that hit the floor and spread outward. 

The floor darkened to a navy blue, and the lights continued to split into halves, until they formed an arrangement that covered the entire hallway, snuffing out the last lanterns as they traveled. 

She heard a soft laugh. Terra’s. “Stars.”

“She’s so cool,” Aqua said, touching a cluster of lights by her feet and watching them thrust outward. 

“I knew you would say that.”

They followed, hopping on clusters of stars until they exploded in all sorts of directions. If Aqua swiped her hand upward on the wall, they would spread across the ceiling. 

When they approached the stairs, the stars would clump together and take the shape of steps so they wouldn’t mistake them and tumble down. 

It was like adventuring in deep space. 

They traveled from a nebula in the entrance hall, where they searched for hidden stars...

… All the way to the meteor shower that rained in the ballroom, trying to catch them before they disappeared into the tiles. 

The only room that stayed the same was the Master’s office, where he obsessed over papers on his desk and trusted one lamp to light his way. To Aqua, it looked like he was reading in outer space, yet he never noticed.

By the time they made it back around to the bedrooms, the stars they first activated had formed their own galaxy, and they spent what little time they had left to name each one. Ven named each of his as “Ven.”

~*~*~*~

Aqua was just about to turn off her bedside lamp when the door knocked. 

Terra let himself in and shut it behind him. He had a piece of paper. “You should see what Ven painted.”

Sitting on her bed, he handed it over. Finger paints of very rough outlines of human figures - one blue, one short one that was green, and one tall one that was orange - took the space on the bottom. Above them was an uneven mess of dark blue with white fingerprints that made up the stars.

Aqua was too tired to really giggle but the painting made it easier for her. “It’s us.” She hid her face behind it. “It’s like the one you made me a long time ago, remember?”

“Shut up.” He looked away from her and buried his face in his hand.

“I still have it.”

“Of course you do.” He squirmed, grabbing his thighs. “You should keep this one, then. Keep them together.”

She let it rest on her lap. “It’s going to be nice… to have a new student.”

“I can’t wait to see what his Keyblade looks like.”

“Or what he can do with it.”

Terra leaned back. “He’s so small, but he’s tough.”

Aqua took one more look at the painting, then placed it on her bedside table. “He’s brave, too.”

She started to snuggle into her bed, digging herself into her bedsheets. She expected Terra to get the hint and turn off the lights for her when he left.

But he joined her instead.

“What are you doing?” she asked. 

He made himself comfortable and laid on his side to face her. He had a sheepish smile on his face, and he fiddled with his hands under the sheet. His voice trembled the slightest when he said it, but what he meant reached his eyes: “I’ve missed you.”

The tips of her ears flared up. Soon enough, her cheeks would burn red so she saved face by dragging her sheets up to her nose. Her heart pounded, which wasn’t helping. 

Sleeping in each other’s beds used to be the norm when they were little, a long time ago.

“Really?” she said.

The way she was behaving made him a little uncomfortable. As if to mimic her, he pulled the sheets to rest right under his chin, packing on blankets in between their bodies as though they were doing something they shouldn’t be doing. 

“Yeah.” He tried to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s been a long time since we really talked.”

Aqua thought all this time things were changing forever. It seemed like all the grown ups she ever had a chance to talk to had lost their best friends, so now it was her time. It was a part of life, and whatever came their way, she had to accept it.

With or without Ven, it wasn’t like they could talk like they used to anymore, anyway.

It was a few months ago that she kissed Terra for the first time. 

She didn’t mean much by it. At least she didn’t think.

It really embarrassed him, though. When she sought him out to talk about it, all he did was shrug a shoulder and said You’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met, Aqua, and stared at a book he wasn’t actually reading. 

Like it was all a joke to him.

They never spoke about it since.

“I felt the same,” she whispered.

If it comforted him, she didn’t know. “Can I stay here for a while?”

She blushed. 

Hard. 

She kept it hidden behind fabric, so he wouldn’t see. “Mm, sure.” Whatever she was feeling, she wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. It made her excited, and yet it was too overwhelming to define.

This was the worst time to be thinking about that kiss.

“But we are a little old for sleepovers, don’t you think?” she added, trying to stall this insane rush of thoughts.

“I guess so.” He was disappointed. 

“You can stay tonight.” She rolled over her shoulder to face away from him.  

“Thanks.” There was rustling and movement behind her. More space opened up between them, and he flicked the light switch off before settling. “Good night,” he chirped. 

All night, she stayed cemented to her side of the bed. Terra laid on his back, his hands interlaced on his chest, and he never moved either. 

She fell asleep expecting to crawl around him in the morning.

But she was alone when she woke up. 

The first person she greeted was none other than Ven, who was waiting for her in the dining room. Terra sat on the floor right by his side. 

“Hi!” Ven’s voice echoed in the enormous metal pot he wore on his head. 

Terra burst into laughter. “He loved it so much, I had to give it to him.”

“Ven?” Aqua pulled up from the rim, peeking under. Ven’s eyes glistened in the dark. 

“I’m so sorry, Ven,” said Ven. 

“I’m sorry for you, too.” She heaved with breath at the sight, changing silent looks of sheer hysteria with Terra as Ven banged on his own pot, the sound of clanging echoing. 

The door to the dining room slammed. “Look lively, children,” Ms. Poppins said. She kept her hands crossed over her waist and headed straight for the kitchen, adorning an apron. “The Master is coming.” 

Terra and Aqua immediately sprung, lifting Ven by the elbows so he could follow suit. With the Master here, Ven had a long way to go with learning how to pay respects. 

“Ven,” Ms. Poppins scoffed. “Such behavior. Take that out of your head, please.”

He slowly followed orders and let the pot hang in his hands, a sad frown on his face.

“Ms. Poppins,” Aqua called, watching the nanny command appliances in the kitchen telepathically. The teapot brewed without notice, and the eggs in the saucepan fried with just a glance. “Thank you for the trip last night. It was wonderful.”

Mary Poppins looked shocked. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” She left Aqua gaping to tend to the flour.

Terra shrugged at before letting his smile reach his eyes. He loved it when he was right. 

“Told you,” he said.

“Think you’re so clever?” she shot back.

“Of course he is,” Ms. Poppins said, and Aqua squirmed at the thought she was being overheard. “I remember to the word what his measurement read when I first met him.”

Terra hesitated to say something, like he was bracing for impact.

“Diligent, sensitive,” Ms. Poppins, recited from memory, motioning to Ven to help her prepare plates though he didn’t understand. “Cheeky. Keeps a messy room and lies about cleaning his room.”

Aqua snorted.

She kept ‘I told you’ to herself, but just this one last time.

#terraqua #aqua #terra #ventus #kh fanfic #kingdom hearts fanfiction #eraqus #mary poppins #this was a long time coming #i'm so glad it's finally done #i hope you like it #my fic

[ladymdc]

The Seventh Circle

I don’t usually do a lot of fic promoting, however, since this is a joint endeavor with my amazing fren @dismalzelenka​​, I’m going to do it 🙃

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe x Reyna Cousland AND Anders x Adrestia Tabris Rating: Explicit (will have canon-typical violence & probably smut) Word Count (at the moment): ~2,900 Chapters: 1/? Summary: Run if you can. Madness has filled the silence. Do not return to this place.

[A modern w/magic AU where the Wardens & darkspawn are a myth, a bedtime story parents tell their children. However, an incident in the Western Approach sends Reyna Cousland and Adrestia Tabris on a search to uncover a truth lost to time and secrecy before it's too late to stop events from spiraling further out of control. Reyna belongs to MC & Adrestia belongs to Diz.]

We’ll be tossing updates up on Ao3 (here) whenever the muse strikes us. CH.1 is under the cut for funsies.

Solace 20:19

Reyna Cousland placed her sunglasses in the center console and got out of the vehicle. The estate was lovely in summer, lush and beautiful. She couldn’t deny it, but the beauty felt bitter and false as she took it in.

She opened the back door to let Acheron out then wordlessly led him up the flagstone path to the manor. At the dark walnut doors on the veranda, she paused. She just needed a moment to brace herself. To prepare for what she was about to face.

Inside, the foyer was well lit and immaculate. A circular table sat in the middle of the open area. On it, there was a large bouquet of dark blue flowers interspersed with olive branches—a play on the colors of their house.

Pride.  

It was a double-edged weapon, just as able to drive one to succeed as to destroy them.

When she looked up, she found her father standing in the doorway to the breakfast nook. His eyes were a stormy grey. Calm, yet powerful; precisely contained—never show weakness or fear.

Conquered By None.  

“Reyna,” he said, absently scratching Acheron’s ear. “Take a walk with me.”

Reyna nodded stiffly and followed after her father. He led her outside then along one of the lanes lined with trees heavy with plums ripe for picking. Her father didn’t make any effort to converse until they were well away from the manor.

“I don’t want you to transfer,” he abruptly declared.

She had already decided to walk pride’s razor edge and told her father as such. “It has already been approved. I leave in two weeks.”

Her father came to a halt as his expression grew bitterly resigned as if preparing himself to be stuck on some quarter.

“I had it on good authority that General Howe—” her lip curled up with disdain of its own volition, “—was going to send me there to add insult to injury. This way, I control the narrative.”

There was a long silence. Her father stared down the lane, his eyes far away.

“What happened should not affect your career,” he said eventually, turning to look down at her. “It had nothing to do with you.”

The betrayal had been so exacting and deeply personal that she could barely bring herself to think about it.

“It has everything to do with me,” Reyna told him. “I am a Cousland.”

“True.” A slow smile curved his lips. Then it vanished, and he glanced away.

But Reyna saw it, the sudden lines of tension around his eyes.

“So, the narrative; what do you need me to do to help offset—” he flicked his hand dismissively at his side, “—everything?”

Reyna blinked. “I don’t need you to do anything,” she said in a tight voice. “Did you really think I was going to distance myself from you? A Cousland always does their duty. You taught me that. You did your duty, and now, it’s my turn.”

Her father nodded thoughtfully. The sunlight catching his hair, silvered with age.

“You know, just when I think I couldn’t be more proud of you, you prove me wrong.”

Her throat tightened so much it was hard to swallow. She managed to tip her chin down in acknowledgment.

When she was a little girl, Reyna had thought he was cold. However, as she matured, she realized he wasn’t unfeeling. Her father felt things; he just did so privately.

In that regard, they were alike; driven by emotions, but never allowed them to dictate. The head always won out over the heart. At least, until General Bryce Cousland was court-martialed for insubordination and suspended without pay for five years.

Then everything changed.

While she composed herself, her father made a convincing job of admiring the blooming hydrangeas. Reyna knew he was proud of her. She never questioned that. But being reminded of it as she tried to be his steady rock in a sea of shifting alliances was overwhelming.

“Come,” he said, briefly placing his hand between her shoulder blades when she stepped up next to him a moment later. “Let’s finish our stroll through the gardens before your mother decides to hunt us down.”

“Did she also assume I was going to cast you aside like some black stain on my career that I couldn’t wait to expunge?” she asked dryly as they began walking down the return lane.

The corner of his mouth twitched faintly. “She didn’t. I believe she just wanted the satisfaction of being present when I was proved wrong. Thank you for allowing myself to be spared further embarrassment.”

Reyna smiled then. Truly smiled for what felt like the first time in months.

Her father chuckled. “In my defense, neither of us have handled this exceptionally well, and I’m unaccustomed to you being—angry.”

Through it all, her father had appeared unaffected. If Reyna had been less angry herself, she might have believed it, but their personalities were basically the same. Which, oddly enough, left her uncertain how to address the strain that had asserted itself between them. But there was an instant comfort she found in learning that it was all misplaced, that he had simply felt as lost as her.

“Likewise,” she said. “I wasn’t sure how this conversation was going to go when you asked me to come home to discuss it.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s just easier to discern what is going on in your head when we speak face to face. And we’ve avoided the general topic long enough.”

“I agree. I shouldn’t have tried to talk about it over the phone. I just didn’t want you to hear about my transfer from anyone else and misunderstand. Obviously, that backfired.”

“That is on me, not you,” he said as they began to ascend the large stone steps up to the patio.

Reyna’s mother was setting the small table in the breakfast nook when they stepped inside. Her parents stared at one another for a moment, then her mother arched a single blonde eyebrow.

“It is as you said, Eleanor,” he allowed drolly.

A slow cat-like smile graced her mother’s lips. “Welcome home, Reyna,” she said, stepping forward to give her daughter a quick hug. “Lunch is almost ready, I’m just finishing up the chicken.”

“Do you need any help?”

“Not at all. It’ll take me ten minutes, tops.”

Her father nodded. “Alright, then I’ll be right back,” he said. Then he turned and walked out of the room. Her mother’s blue eyes glittered knowingly before exiting through the adjacent door leading to the kitchen.

Reyna shrugged inwardly before taking a seat. At her elbow, she found today’s newspaper. Something twisted inside her as she read the headline on the front page.

CONTROVERSIAL DRILLING RIG IN ABYSSAL RIFT TO BEGIN OPERATIONS IN EARLY AUGUST 

‘Rift Platform 52’, or ‘P-52’, is expected to launch operations on Saturday, August 6th, according to a press release by Antonius Faber, CEO of OFT Enterprises. 

This venture is made possible thanks to Orzammar based Paragon Branka Kondrat’s revolutionary structural engineering research. This state of the art drilling facility, the most advanced of its kind to date, is affixed to the cliff-side of the Abyssal Rift using massive caissons and a carefully threaded steel cable suspension system. It is roughly the size of a 15-story building and will deploy three separate drilling units to depths of up to 5,000 meters. P-52 is expected to reach oil reserves that have remained untapped for centuries due to the unstable landscape of the Western Approach and widespread environmental toxicity located within the Rift itself. 

While few would question the wealth of resources finally available, Ferelden concerns on the matter initially went largely unheard until King Cailan Theirin and Empress Celene Valmont established the Great Orlais-Ferelden Oil Alliance earlier this year. 

In exchange—  

Reyna heard footsteps and looked up as her father reentered the room.

His eyes flicked from hers down to the newspaper. He stared at it for several seconds, then sighed.

“For once, I’m not mentioned.”

Reyna nodded, keeping her expression carefully closed as she quietly seethed.

On the surface, increasing oil imports from Orlais at a lesser cost in exchange for military support in the hazardous environment seemed to make good sense. However, production sharing agreements were horrendously advantageous to the host country. The host country did not need to make a significant amount of investment for exploration or production activities because the oil company carried all operational and financial costs and risks. Then, if that weren’t enough, the host country gleaned knowledge, technological advances, and expertise through the agreement.

In summation, the host country— Orlais —would reap endless benefits and profits from this groundbreaking endeavor.

Ferelden would be guaranteed access to cheap oil, and nothing more. This was a fact her father had bluntly relayed to some reporters at the persuasion of his lifelong friend, Rendon Howe, who then used the souring tide of public opinion in the matter to motivate King Cailan to call for his court-martial. It succeeded.

Predictably, Rendon was promoted to take his place.

Reyna rolled her jaw and forced herself to set aside her sudden rage.

“It’s fine, Reyna; I shall live on,” he said, crossing the room.

“We shall live on,” she corrected.

“Precisely.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“I have something for you,” he said, then reached into his pocket and withdrew two metal, half-inch bands inlaid with runes.

She looked up at her father in astonishment.

He smirked, then held out his empty hand to her. “As you said, it’s your turn.”

“I can’t accept that.”

“It was always going to be yours someday,” he said, then beckoned with his fingers to encourage her along.

At that, Reyna swallowed down the rest of her objections and let him help her to stand; Acheron perked up from where he was doing a rather good job at blending in with the wood flooring.

“Part of why I asked you here today was to tell you that I’m resigning from the service,” he told her, slipping the bands onto her left arm.

“When did you make that decision?”

“When the verdict was handed down. I was just waiting for the news cycle to die down. None of this was supposed to be about me.” He began to precisely situate one on her forearm just a couple inches from her elbow; the other was dangling from her wrist like an oversized bracelet.

“It was about Ferelden, and I did right by her,” he said. “That is all that matters.”

Reyna slowly nodded. She understood the implications behind the decision. Going along with it all would be as good as admitting wrongdoing.

Once in position, the bands resized themselves to her perfectly where they would remain unless she went in to have them reset and removed. Reyna could tell there were enchantments woven into the silverite to prevent her arm from chafing and to keep it the ideal temperature.

“Can you feel it?”

Now that he mentioned it, Reyna could recognize a presence pressing against the outside of her forearm. “I can tell I’m connected to it, but I can’t tell how to make it do anything.”

“It takes some getting used to. You’ll just have to practice.” He took two steps back. “Curl your fingers in one at a time, starting with your pinky, and you’ll be able to separate it out better.”

Reyna took a deep, even breath and did as instructed. As her thumb curled inward, she felt it.

The semi-translucent, iridescent blue field flickered to life for a half-second, then vanished.

Her father smiled proudly, and Reyna could feel the pressure in her cheeks and eyes as she struggled not to cry over it.

She knew what it looked like in its full corporeal form. A modernized replica of the shields their ancestors used to carry back in the Dragon Age. It had been a gift from the late King Maric Theirin when her father was knighted for exceptional services to the Crown. In that alone, it was priceless, and yet astronomical amounts of time and effort and magic went into making the one of a kind device.

She parted her lips to speak—

“Don’t thank me, and I won’t…” he trailed off and waved a hand.

Reyna exhaled; part relief, part amusement. “Deal.”

“Good,” he said, shoulders dropping as if he had also found the entire conversation emotionally draining. But then her father put his arm around her and pulled her in for a quick, slightly awkward half-embrace.

As if awaiting this cue, her mother breezed back into the room to begin serving lunch: garlic bread and caprese chicken avocado salad with a balsamic reduction. Reyna’s mouth quirked at the corner when Acheron dug in. It always did. Without fail, he happily ate anything her mother put in front of him.

Later, Reyna would sit in her West Hill apartment and think back on the meal. In that moment, they had all but forgotten what had happened. The only deviation from the thousands of other meals they’ve shared in that room was the bands were affixed to her arm instead of her father’s. Where they should be.

Reyna idly traced the runes wrapped around her wrist.

All this time, she had been supportive but distant, trying to separate out her own personal turmoil over the matter so her father wouldn’t carry that too. He had done so anyway. Penance perhaps for negatively affecting her career, one he knew she didn’t even want even though Reyna had never admitted it.

At least, they managed to set things right. It was far past time, but neither of them were much good at talking about how they felt.

“I think we should stay at the manor until we leave,” she said suddenly.

Acheron barked, stump waggling, and Reyna reached for her phone.

It was a strange feeling, to move back into her childhood home. A home she loved and would someday inherit to become Lady of the Manor. A fact that made her painfully aware while she was an heir, she was not a true heir. No matter what she did, the Cousland name would die with her.

Reyna tried not to think about it.

Instead, she read, ran with Acheron, and cooked with her mother. She practiced activating the shield, which was like strengthening a part of her she hadn’t known existed and had muscle atrophy as a result. Reyna and her father even discussed potential ways she could excel in her new post, to climb rank despite the looming expectation that she stall out or quit.

When Reyna left, it was as if she’d be back the next day. Goodbyes were another thing they weren’t very good at.

The flight was uneventful, as was settling into her new place in Valemont. A two-bedroom, 1.5 bath duplex with exactly one parking space designated as hers behind the home, which was all she needed.

There were some incredulous looks when 2ndLt. Cousland provided her identification at the gates of Griffon Wing Army Base the following Monday, but Reyna ignored it. Then she parked her new jeep and slung her bag onto her shoulder before dropping Acheron off for training on the local wildlife. And now, she made her way deeper into the facility in search of her office.

As she rounded a corner on the third floor, she allowed herself a quick glance around, taking in the layout. Reyna stiffened when she saw him. Seeing her certainly hadn’t seemed to surprise or upset him.

He’d been waiting for it.

Howe simply leaned back on his heels and studied her, his eyes bright as they swept over her in a rapid catalog, lingering a moment on the band visible around her left wrist. Nothing about him had changed since she’d last seen him, and yet she could feel the weight of everything that had in the air between them.

He hadn’t tried to contact her.

Not once.

Whatever they’d been had never been defined. Not friends, but something that had mattered enough for Reyna to feel a growing well of hurt as she blankly met his stare. Not that it mattered.

None of it had ever mattered.

Eventually, Howe looked down, and his lips thinned. Then his posture shifted slightly. There was something he was trying to communicate to her, and her grey eyes flicked over to the plaque on the door he stood nearest to.

316 2ndLt. Nathaniel Howe  

Her mouth twisted derisively. Of course, their offices would be across the hall from one another. She should have expected it.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Howe twitch, and his expression harden.

Reyna turned on her heel and entered her office.

She set her bag down and went to the window. The Western Approach was a sea of unstable, shifting sands, rocky ridges, and strong, howling winds. On the horizon, P-52 sat in the middle of a steel web. Without a doubt, this office was also chosen to remind her how she got here.

She should be enraged, but she couldn’t summon it. She hadn’t realized how powerless she was to fight her circumstances until that moment.

People did not believe in facts. Order and truth could be tarnished.

She didn’t know how to rise above it, but she would still try.

She sank into the chair at her desk and went to work.

#new fic #dragon age #dragon age fanfic #nathaniel howe #cousland #cousland x howe #reyna vale cousland #the seventh circle #anders x tabris #to arrive soon #*strikes will smith pose* #My writing #writers unite #support your fellow writers #and sometimes write a fic with them #dismalzelenka #modern w/magic au #modern thedas #modern blight #mdcwrites #yeets into the void

[afangirlsplaylist]

Behave

Author: afangirlsplaylist

Rating: Explicit    

Chapter: 1/1    Word count: 3,252 

Summary: Prompted by THIS. AU - Link has come out and he’s finally sick of the sexual tension his hot and supposedly straight best friend has been putting him through. It’s about time for some follow through.

Warnings: Smut and everything that goes with that, Dub-con (sort of), D/S undertones, a little alcohol drinking.

Notes: Not a huge amount of plot for this one. Wrote this one shot as a warm up for the serials sitting in my drafts. 1000000% fictional.

Read it on archiveofourown

It wasn’t a big deal when Link came out. Rhett knew his friend too well to be overly surprised and the crew wasn’t fazed. Stevie practically celebrated the news, high-fiving a blushing Link when she heard.

Of course telling the Mythical Beasts was a whole other story. There was a fair amount of expected backlash, but it didn’t surprise them to find that the majority of fans were supportive. The shipping niche of the fandom, in particular, were very vocal about what the two of them could do with the information, the increase in suggestive comments making Link a little fidgety with discomfort. Rhett himself had seen enough screen caps of the two of them floating down the Tumblr dash on Jen’s computer to have questions of his own, although he was never conceited enough to voice them.

Given the tension, he supposed he could’ve been a little more sensitive to his friend’s feelings. He could’ve reigned himself in several notches during the touchier wheel endings or bit his tongue when the urge for innuendos arose, but he didn’t. His playful nature won out every time, resulting in Link sitting squarely in his lap for another wheel ending that didn’t call for it.

“Why did I have to be on your lap for this?” Link grumbled.

“Because you’re my patient Link.” Rhett joked. “I gotta save your life.”

The room erupted in light chuckles but Link’s died quickly, his body freezing in place as Rhett adjusted his knee and unwittingly rolled his crotch a little more firmly against his ass. Shooting him a deeply serious look, Link quickly slipped off Rhett’s lap and reclaimed his seat, tugging at his collar to compose himself.

“Welcome to Good Mythical More.” Link plowed on.

It wasn’t long before Rhett was able to dismiss the small moment, as Link was the picture of innocence throughout ‘more. He steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them as if he was carefully contemplating what Rhett had to say, speaking very little himself. It was one of the many times in their lives that Rhett would miss the dangerous glint behind the polite facade, the kind that would usually result in a fight.

Signaling to Stevie that they had enough footage, Link called a cut on the episode, already halfway across the room before he noticed Rhett wasn’t following. “You coming?”

Rhett raised an eyebrow but followed, his long legs walking quickly to keep up. “You in a rush to get to lunch or something?”

Not bothering to reply, Link held the door open for Rhett as they reached their office, letting him go ahead.

They had barely heard the lock click on the door before Link reached up and grabbed Rhett by his hair, pulling him down for a sharp, wet kiss. Startled, Rhett didn’t have time to respond, still feeling dazed as Link pulled away from his mouth.

“That’s for grinding on me.” Link said with satisfaction.

“I don’t rig the wheel man. What are you doing?” Rhett argued.

Link simply answered his excuse with another kiss, this one so rough and enthusiastic it made Rhett flail, clawing at Link’s shoulder until his body stilled and he gave into it. He knew he could push Link off at any time, but there was something about Link’s talented lips and the fierce look in his eyes that stopped him.

“Look buddy roll.” Link drawled, peeling his lips off Rhett’s again. “You’re my best friend - but keep playing with me and I will fuck you.”

“You wouldn’t - “ Rhett cut himself off with a gasp as he felt Link reach down and squeeze his dick through his jeans.

“I wouldn’t what Rhett?“ Link growled.

“Okay.” Rhett squeaked. “I’ll stop.”

Humming thoughtfully as he considered that, Link’s hand began to playfully paw at the front of Rhett’s pants with teasing rubs. "You gonna behave and stop starting something you can’t finish on camera?”

Biting his lip, Rhett fought to resist the small moan that threatened to escape as he spoke. “I’ll behave.”

“Good.” Link smirked, promptly releasing Rhett’s crotch. “You wanna take our lunch break in a half hour?”

Thrown off by the change of topic, Rhett blinked. “Yeah sounds good. I’m just… Gonna go to the bathroom.”

Link made no comment but his grin widened wickedly as Rhett hurried out of the room, determined not to let Link see the bulge that had begun to fill out his jeans. Thankful to find his path free of employees, he threw open the door of the nearest bathroom, peering around the empty room and open stalls until he was sure he was alone.

Taking a cubicle, he palmed himself roughly through his jeans until he couldn’t handle the pressure anymore, finally shoving them down along with his underwear. Sighing in relief he wrapped a hand around his girth and stroked himself feverishly, dry humping his fist until there was enough precum to slick up his hand.

He tried to pretend he wasn’t replaying what had just happened in his head multiple times, and he tried to pretend it wasn’t his best friend that had reduced him to a horny teenager. He also tried to pretend that jacking off in the studio wasn’t turning him on, and that he wasn’t imagining Link’s slender hand on his cock rather than his own. He failed on all counts.

Cumming with a quiet grunt, he pressed a hand to the wall for support as his knees buckled and his ragged breathing slowed. Usually, he would bask in the glow of the moment, but this time he cleaned off and left the room hastily. It was as if by immediately destroying the evidence of the event itself he could make it so it never happened, along with the feelings that came with it.

He avoided Link’s gaze when he returned to their office, focusing a little too intensely on his screen. It didn’t help matters when Link proceeded to take their lunch break to enjoy a banana, a fruit Rhett knew his friend didn’t even like. He glared every time Link’s tongue lingered on a piece of the fruit as if every taste Link took was sending a bitter sample of his own medicine back at him. Link looked at him as if daring him to say something about it, but Rhett didn’t give him the satisfaction.  

It was typical of their relationship that they didn’t say or do anything more about what had happened after that. In fact, the only acknowledgment either of them made was the effort Rhett put into keeping things from getting too awkward or touchy on the show from then on. Somehow he actually managed that for several episodes, but it was inevitable that he’d eventually slip up again, just when he’d almost forgot about Link’s warning.

They were both shirtless for a challenge when he’d brushed his hand over Link’s chest, flicking across a nipple for a brief second. Fortunately for him, the camera angle completely missed the dark shadow that fell over Link’s face, and the mic missed the way Rhett’s breath hitched as he realized he may have screwed up.

But then Link seemed to shake it off, at least until the watchful cameras were turned off and the set lights went dark. It was then that he felt Link rise from the desk and move behind him, gripping his shoulder.

“I’m coming to your place tonight.” Link said, his voice dangerous and low enough for only Rhett to hear. “Send everyone home and get in your car.”

It didn’t occur to Rhett to ignore him or take offense to being ordered into his own car. He simply did what Link wanted, encouraging the crew to follow Link’s lead out of the studio. It took him a surprisingly short time to lock up after that, as he questioned why he was so eager to get to whatever was about to happen.

He found Link leaning against his car in the car park, totally engrossed in his phone and looking for all the world as if he’d known he wouldn’t be kept waiting long. He grinned and gave nothing away as Rhett approached, killing all chance of immediate answers. He was still tight-lipped after they’d slipped into Rhett’s car.

They drove in that silence for a while, letting the hum of the engine fill the quiet until Link finally spoke up. “So what’d I say the other day?”

Momentarily confused about what Link was talking about, Rhett was very quickly reminded when he felt a hand trailing a path over his thigh.

“What did I say, Rhett?” Link repeated.

“You told me not to tease you.” Rhett gulped, gripping the wheel tighter.

Link nodded in satisfaction. “I told you what would happen if you did too.” He added, now rubbing his hand along the top of Rhett’s waistband

Between that and Link’s hot breath in his ear, he had to will his blood not to rush to his dick when Link started kissing up and down a spot under his ear. He struggled to focus on the road as he surrendered to his throbbing need, and had just started to enjoy the sweet torture when Link’s hands and lips were off him again.

“I’ll deal with you when we get to your house.” Link promised.

Lamenting the fact that he couldn’t turn and wreck Link’s face with his mouth for that, he may or may not have pushed the speed limit in his hurry to get home. He was still a turned on mess by the time they’d pulled up at his house, bounding out of the car like kids getting out of bed on Christmas day.

They never bothered to invite each other inside whenever they visited each other’s houses anymore, so Rhett followed Link in, barely making it off the very public doorstep before Link commenced his assault.

They made out enthusiastically for a few minutes, their awkward dance of lust leading them to the lounge. Rhett almost tripped as Link pushed him onto the couch, shoving him back into it when he tried to lean forward and capture Link’s mouth again. “Stay there.” Link warned.

He found pleasure in the disappointed moan that escaped Rhett’s mouth as he left the room, sauntering towards the kitchen. To prolong it he purposely took his time pouring two shots of whiskey, watching Rhett’s gaze flicker between the amber liquid and his body when he re-entered the lounge.

Balancing both glasses in his hands he walked over and draped his legs either side of Rhett’s thighs, sinking onto his lap. As he skilfully downed his own shot in one he was very aware that Rhett’s lusty eyes were glued to his neck, following a spot of whiskey dripping down his throat. Leaning forward, he placed a hand behind Rhett’s head and brought the other shot to his mouth. “Drink up.”

Noticing Rhett’s hesitation he decided to reassure him

“You’re gonna need it for what I’m gonna do to you brother.” Link said huskily. “I won’t let you forget anything.”

Rhett shivered a little but obediently opened his mouth, allowing Link to tip the shot in. His lips were still wet with whiskey when Link swiped his tongue across them, tasting the alcohol and desire.

“Damn Link.“ Rhett groaned. “You always been like this?”

Link laughed, putting the empty glasses aside before settling himself in his lap seat more fully. “You know that night in college when Gregg was away for the weekend and I went out without you? I came home with a guy that night and you know what I did?“

Link leaned in and whispered the next words in Rhett’s ear. “I fucked him in my bed while you were sleeping.”

Rhett’s eyes widened at the dirty language issuing from his friend’s mouth, holding onto every foul word.

“I had to gag him with my shirt and hold him down to keep him waking you up.” Link continued.

Letting out a pained whine, Rhett’s hands flew out to Link’s ass, grabbing at it needily. “Gosh, why couldn’t you wake me up?”

“You jealous I fucked some other guy?” Link asked, rocking his ass against Rhett’s large hands. "Or are you upset there are things you didn’t know about me?”

Rhett’s only answer was to palm Link’s cheeks harder and mouth at his neck like it was an oasis he’d found in a desert. The delicious feeling of Link grinding against his now painfully hard lap was officially the greatest torment he’d ever experienced, giving him some relief but never enough. He almost screamed when Link slid off his lap until Link started to tug the zipper of his jeans down.

Stepping out of his jeans so he was standing in only his shirt and briefs Link stepped forward, silently inviting Rhett to pull him out the rest of the way. Rhett took the hint, hooking his thumbs in Link’s waistband and easing the briefs down. Even as he pulled out his prize Rhett felt himself blushing and looking away, as if seeing that part of his friend suddenly felt indecent.

“You wanted to touch.” Link scolded, grabbing Rhett’s hand and bringing it to his cock. “So touch.”

His cheeks still a little pink, Rhett took in his first sight of his friend hard and warm in his hand. It was strange to think that the hardness he was feeling was all for him, almost as strange as the response he could feel straining against his own pants. It would have been a little frightening if the man he was feeling it for hadn’t been Link.

Feeling bolder, he wrapped his hand more firmly around Link and started stroking, getting used to the feeling. “You’re big.” He noted.

“You aren’t the only one of us that can be big.” Link teased.

Rhett squeezed him hard enough to make him yelp for that comment before tender stroking his thumb over the tip to make up for it.

“Take your shirt off.” Link said lustily.

More than willing to do anything that might give him some relief, Rhett ripped his shirt up and over his head, before returning to his task without missing a beat. He knew he must have been doing something right judging from the sounds he was drawing out of Link’s mouth, so he stroked harder and faster. Spotting precum leaking from the tip he unconsciously licked his lips, inching his mouth closer. This didn’t go un-noticed by Link, who pushed himself closer until his cock was almost rubbing on Rhett’s lips.

“I want you to look at me when you suck it. Need to see you.” Link said, need finally trickling into his voice.

Staring up at the sincerity on Link’s face Rhett obliged, looking him in the eyes as his tongue snaked out to meet his cock. He began with little licks and kisses as he got used to the sensation, which quickly turned into french kisses and light sucks on the head. Eventually, he managed to take some of the length down his throat, bobbing his head just a little.

“That’s it.” Link keened, affectionately stroking Rhett’s hair and letting him take in as much as he could handle. “You’re so good.”

He threw his head back in ecstasy at the sight of Rhett sucking him off, taking him in deeper and deeper until he was almost deep throating him. The visual was just about as good as the feeling of Rhett’s mouth itself, the tight heat bringing him close to the edge. When he felt the pleasure getting too much he placed a hand on Rhett’s chest, nudging him off.

“Lay back baby.” Link breathed.

Rhett slowly lowered himself onto his back before Link was on him again, moving his hands down Rhett’s body to stroke his lower stomach. Rhett tried to move further up the couch to force Link’s hands’ closer to where he wanted them, but Link dug his nail into the sides of Rhett’s waist to keep him in place.

Link sat on his heels to unbutton and throw off his shirt before giving Rhett what he wanted him what he wanted, sliding Rhett’s jeans off. Moving up to kiss some of Rhett’s anxiety away, he trailed his hands and mouth all the way down to Rhett’s thighs, easing them apart with his hands.

“I don’t want to stop but I gotta get you lube.” Link warned.

“Use your mouth." Rhett begged, pressing a hand against Link’s to stop him leaving. 

More than happy to do that Link sucked two fingers into his mouth, running them against the leaking slit of his cock for added measure. He brought them to the cleft of Rhett’s ass and carefully inched one past the ring of resistance, enjoying the feeling of Rhett’s body writhing beneath him.

Working the finger in and out until it slid in easily he added a second, waiting for Rhett to adjust before he started fucking him with them. “You gonna admit you’re gay for me?”

Rhett opened his mouth for a smart retort before Link’s finger slammed against his prostate, killing all coherent thought.

“Yeah you are.” Link drawled, twisting his fingers and slamming into the spot again.

Sensing when Rhett was open enough for him he pulled out and licked at his fingers, serving the dual purpose of tasting Rhett and slicking them up further. Looking down at the open hole waiting for him he pumped his cock a few times before positioning himself between Rhett’s cheeks. “You ready?”

Rhett’s responded by wriggling forward, desperately trying to close the final inches between their bodies. Link took pity and lifted Rhett’s legs to rest either side of his waist.

“I don’t want you to fake being macho, if it hurts you have to tell me. I’m serious.” Link warned.

"Just do it already would you?” Rhett whined.

Pushing forward, Link inched himself inside, watching his length disappear until it was buried completely. The sudden pain and fullness were unlike anything Rhett had ever felt before, so intense that he almost didn’t notice Link easing out of him, preparing to start moving.

Clutching the couch’s armrest Rhett braced himself, half expecting to be pounded into oblivion once Link found his rhythm. He was surprised when Link took him deep, loving and slow, their bodies sliding smoothly across the fabric of the couch with every thrust. It was far more intimate and punishing than anything Link could’ve done by taking him fast, hitting parts of his body and soul he didn’t know existed.

"More. Please.” Rhett pleaded, his long arms failing to grab onto Link’s hips.

“Sssh, we’ll have that some other time Just take this.” Link said gently, rocking his hips in a way that Rhett could feel somewhere near his stomach. 

Sliding out as he sensed their approaching release, Link got his hand around Rhett’s cock, stroking him until they both came like they lived their lives - together and fiercely. Rhett came hard over his stomach when the sensations got too much, while his noises sent Link over the edge with him. They were still taking shaky, gasping breaths when they fell into each other in a spent mess.

“Love you.” Link mumbled.

Rhett waited for a second, expecting the ‘brother’ he was used to Link tacking onto the end of that sentence, but it never came.

“Love you too.” He said with a smile.

Notes: *blushes and covers face* well that was dirty. 

#rhink #rhink fanfiction