#ah well he's one step closer to becoming a potion master

[victorluvsalice]

-->While Victor, refreshed from his nap, decided to try a bigger target for his next duel – Morgyn, Sage Of Untamed Magic! He located our favorite nonbinary sage at the chess table and challenged them --

Aaand promptly got his ass kicked. XD I mean, he DID put up a good fight, but Morgyn is a Sage, and it’s pretty difficult to beat THEM. Victor decided to switch tactics (and aspirations), and after complimenting Morgyn on their fighting prowess, instead asked if they could teach him a potion. Morgyn kindly handed over a sample of the Potion of Good Fortune – a potion that actually makes use of one of the magical plants Victor’s been growing, Valerian Root! Hooray! Pleased, I sought out Simeon, Sage of Practical Magic, to get another recipe –

And didn’t see the option. Either he had none to teach Victor, or the option was on a cooldown after Victor asked Morgyn. *sigh* I instead had him teleport down to Caster’s Alley to check out the tomes shop, but all they were selling was the Nimble Mind potion tome, which Victor already knows. *grumble* And as it was already almost midnight in-game, I decided “okay, let’s wrap it up here,” had him buy some turquoise from the crystal shop (because it’s a needed ingredient for his new potion and, as stated multiple times in previous updates, they have the money), and then take everyone home.

-->Once home, Victor teleported his way up to bed, while Alice – refreshed from her nap and subsequent run – transformed into her wolfy form and headed out for a hunt. Smiler, for their part, went and turned off the gardening bots in the greenhouse – who STILL hadn’t cleared those weeds from the plants! O.o So, after getting their elderberries and chamomile, I had Smiler try weeding them themselves. They ended up getting a dirt frog for their efforts –

But they also ended up getting stuck in an endless loop of weeding. Realizing that the problem might be with the plants, not with the bots, I had them stop and put Alice (who had returned from her hunt, eaten her meat, cleaned up her dish, and repaired the broken sink on the potting bench in the greenhouse -- Smiler was weeding for a while) on the case – she too got stuck in an infinite loop when she tried to weed, proving the plants in question had gotten glitched.

So I just shift-clicked on said plants and cheated the weeds away. XD Hey, not THEIR fault they couldn’t clear the damn things! I was just getting ready to leave it there (with maybe Smiler trying out one of the new herbalism potion they could make with their new ingredients, some insect repellent goop) –

-->When the house made some spooky noises, distracting everyone, and Temperance showed up AGAIN! Right next to Victor as he woke up! Victor – didn’t even react, instead just heading downstairs for meatballs. XD I slapped his bizarre idol on the dresser as he left, then just waited for Temperance to fuck off before saving and quitting, with Victor full of meatballs in the kitchen; Alice Somber-Howling her Fury away on the porch; and Smiler hanging out in the greenhouse. :p Pretty productive day overall, honestly! :) Next time -- well, next time we're getting the Valicer-In-The-Dark-inspired lookbook I did in CAS over Christmas, but after that, we're going back to the store to try to empty those shelves a little bit more – and see if taking the price tags off a few items helps with the lag there. *nods* See you then!

#sims 4 #the lazy save #victor van dort #alice liddell #smiler always #I mean I had to have Victor TRY all right? #I think it IS possible to beat the Sages in a duel #just very very unlikely #but Victor was a good sport about the whole thing #and he got a potion recipe out of it #so that was good #just wish that darn interaction wasn't on a cooldown #ah well he's one step closer to becoming a potion master #and yes apparently some of my new plants have glitched out #and decided to be weedy all the time >( #I THINK I've solved the problem at the time of this writing #they stay weedy for the next couple of updates but I keep resetting them and I think it's finally stuck #but we will see! #and yes Temperance is barely even an annoyance to the gang at this point #just 'ho-hum yeah yeah get bizarre idoled' XD #they know the score when it comes to living in a haunted house #queued

[cheesy-cakey]

note this is a hatter au from a wattpad book I wrote.

You Weren't there

Kalim X Reader Angst

We had graduated.

We got married.

He inherited his family's riches.

We had a son.

We were happy...

We WERE.

I gazed out the window of my quarters.

I was no longer a Hatter... I was now an Al-Asim.

The Hatter name had died out the moment I decided to be a part of Kalim's family. I still owned our land and property. But I had no use for it.

I thought that this was going be our happily ever after.

Holding the one I love close. Kalim embracing me and our son.

But I guess reality doesn't have a happy ending... Especially us Hatter's.

As I watched the scene out the window.

In the garden was Kalim... With his 2rd wife and daughter.

Yes, that's right. I may be Kalim's first wife... but that doesn't mean I'm the only one.

I watched as he held her hand while with the other he carried his daughter.

I moved away from the window and sat on the plush bed of my quarters.

"How could I be so stupid. How could I be so blind. why did I think... That out of all the people in the world. I would have a happy ending." I muttered to myself as I leaned back on my arms tears pricking out of my eyes.

I went back to the window watching them hold each other close. I traced my hand on the glass feeling the coolness of the material.

I kneeled on the floor hand on the window sill while the other was on the floor.

"If happy ever after did exist~" I sang as I wrapped my arms around myself.

"I would still be holding you like this~"

"All those fairy tales are full of sh*t"

"One more f*cking love song I'll be sick" I sobbed as I was never meant to have a happy ever after.

3rd POV

Little did Y/N know that someone came to visit.

Watching through the crack from the slightly opened door.

Ali Al-Asim watched as his mother broke down crying.

"Why... why of all people... why does it have to be mother that suffers?"

He walked away knowing that it's better to not disturb her like this... He knew seeing him would just remind her of the happy ending she could've had.

He returned to him quarters and sat in one of the chairs in his room.

"Mother... You shouldn't be suffering like this... You told me father loved you... You said he loved you more than the stars in the sky... then why... why does he treat you this way? why does he neglect you? weren't we happy? weren't you happy?" He leaned his head back as tears pricked out his eyes.

"I never get to see you smile anymore. The smile that could shine brighter than the sun. Your eyes became dull... no longer full of hope and happiness like the stars."

he slammed his first into the table Infront of him as tears fell from his face.

"WHY DON'T YOU HAVE A HAPPY EVER AFTER!?"

The 15 year old couldn't bear to see his mother like this...

He's seen her cry too many times...

-Time Skip-

It was Ali's 16th birthday.

Which means a big celebration...

But his mother as much as she wants to attend she couldn't bring herself to leave her room.

The Hatter that used to be full of life, laughing, singing, dancing. The Hatter that enjoyed parties and seeing her friends smile... lost her spark.

-At the celebration-

"Happy Birthday, Young Master, Ali!" The servants cheered.

"Happy birthday, My son!" Kalim exclaimed as he greeted his first born.

"Thank you, Father!" Ali exclaimed with a smile.

"You're 16 now, which school do you wanna attend, Ali!?" His father asked excitedly.

"I want to go to Night Raven College! That's where you went to right, Father?"

"Yes, I did! Me and your uncle Jamil went there together!"

"Then it's settled, NRC it is!"

"I could have the headmaster make you dorm head as well!"

"No, Father. I wish to become dorm head with my own skills." He stated.

"Haaaah? fine, if that is what my son wants. Now everyone! enjoy the party!"

he walked away as he went to meet other guests.

A lot of people were here. His uncles from NRC. His Friends. even his half sister.

But there was only one person Ali wanted to be here.

Ali stood up from his seat and sneaked away.

He went to the quarters of someone he held dear.

he knocked on the door and heard a come in.

"Good evening, mother" he said with a soft smile.

"Ah! Ali, Happy Birthday" She replied with a tired but loving smile.

she was sitting by the window with it being wide open allowing the wind to enter.

He went closer the his mother and kneeled beside her.

"How are you feeling?" Ali asked.

"I'm feeling very well. So how is your birthday?"

"Nevermind the birthday. I just want to stay here with you" he said as he buried his face into her dress resting his head on her lap.

The lady giggled at her son's statement, watching him with caring eyes.

"I have a present for you" She said as she brought out a box.

Ali raised his head.

"Mother... you didn't have to" he said as he received it.

"Oh, but I do. this is something I've been meaning to give you"

Ali opened the box to see a top hat, a golden silk snake wrapping around the hat with a single Jasmine flower.

"It used to be mine. Sometimes in the Hatter family we give it to the person we marry but sometimes we also keep it. But this time it's time to pass it on to the descendant. I redecorated it for you. do you like it?" The elegant lady smiled as she remembered her memories with the hat and proud to be able to hand it down.

Ali looked as the hat.

"I love it... thank you mother" He thanked as he lied down on her lap once again.

"I'm glad you do, my dear son" She placed a hand on his white hair exactly the same as his father's.

Sher stroked his head gently as the moon shone down on them through the window.

-Timeskip-

It was now time for Ali to go to Night Raven College. He said farewell to everyone and as he was about to get on the Ebony Carriage he looked up to a window to see his mother smiling at him. he smiled back and entered.

-at the dorm sorting-

Ali was up next to be sorted.

"State thy name"

"Ali Al-Asim"

"The shape of thy soul... I see you best improve in Scarabia."

He stepped away from the mirror and joined the other students that were sorted into Scarabia.

He will make his mother proud.

-Time skip-

It had been a week since he had arrived. And just like that he had became a dorm head not from money but from skill.

He was currently in potions taught by Professor Crewel.

His phone then suddenly rang.

"Excuse me, Professor. I need to take this call"

"Of course, pup. but next time I won't be allowing it."

Ali answered his phone and it was one of the servants.

He was analysing his potion while he answered.

"What is it? I told you not to call me around this time because I'm in class."

"Apologies, young master. But it's about Lady Y/N"

"Mother? what about her? does she miss me? tell her I'll visit this weekend."

"It's not that sir"

"what is it then?"

"she umm"

"spit it out"

"The lady has passed away"

Ali suddenly dropped the beaker shattering it to a million pieces.

"Al-Asim! bad pup! what are you doing!?"

Ali stood up knocking his seat over. He slammed his hand on his desk that still had the shattered glass and spilled potion. good thing that the potion doesn't give much effect since it wasn't finished.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN PASSED AWAY!?" He yelled as tears pricked from his eyes.

"Al-Asim?" his professor called out worried.

"I mean what I exactly said, young master. The lady passed away earlier this morning. when the servant went to serve her breakfast she didn't wake up. they tried waking her up then realized she wasn't moving. they called a physician... and he said the lady had passed away"

"no... you're lying"

"Ali Al-Asim, what's wrong? Get your hands off the desk your starting to bleed." Crewel said as he took the boys hand from the broken glass and started cleaning it.

"Mother... is she really dead?"

"yes, sir"

"wait... your mother?" his professor asked

"As in... Y/N? she's... no longer with us?" his eyes wide as saucers.

Ali fell on his knees tears spilling not showing any signs of stopping any time soon.

"Mother... no... no... no no no NO! SHE CAN'T BE GONE!" He sobbed.

"Ashengrotto, take him to the infirmary to clean his wound up. The rest of you dismissed. I need to speak with the head master."

"Yes, professor"

-time Skip-

currently Ali was in the head masters office.

"Al-Asim. I heard what had happened. I'll let you go home for as long as you need. I apologize for your loss. You can use the mirror to go home." Crowley said as he watched the boy sob.

he himself wanted to cry since one of the most lovable students he had, had passed away.

"Your mother... was an incredible woman. Not only as a student but as a friend to the rest. It's a shame she... had to leave us so early. I thought that maybe... I'd be dead by the time she leaves."

"Thank you, headmaster... I'll be... heading out now" Ali exited the room and went to the mirror and went home.

Once he had arrived he was greeted by the servants but he just walked right pass.

His sister also greeted him, but he continued walking.

soon he arrived at his mother's bedroom. He saw her... looking like she's sleeping soundly... knowing she's never waking up again.

He walked to her bed side. held her now cold hand and feel to his knees and sobbed uncontrollably

"Mother!... Why.... WHY DID YOU HAVE TO LEAVE! I WAS GOING TO GIVE YOU THE HAPPY ENDING YOU DESERVE! BUT WHAT!? YOU ENDED YOUR STORY WITH LONGING THAT WAS NEVER FULFILLED!? WHY!?" he cried... not leaving her side for the rest of the day.

During her funeral, all her friends from NRC came. Tears spilled everywhere as they found their dear friend no longer with them.

they approached Ali who just stood by her coffin.

"Sorry... for your loss... Ali"

He just kept silent.

For the long duration of her funeral... Not once did his father... the man his dear mother loved and longed for, show up.

This had made the boy even more upset. but that did not overpower the sorrow he had.

-Time Skip-

The funeral had long ended...

His mother was buried...

he returned to school but barely spoke.

"Al-Asim... pup. I suggest you go meet with Professor Yuu. You need it"

Ali merely nodded as he went to his magicless professor who taught about monsters and health.

"Ali... take a seat"

Ali sat down across him.

"You haven't been sleeping have you... you have bags under your eyes. You look pale. Ali"

He just sat there.

"I know... I know you're depressed... Your mother was my vice prefect back in our school days. she was a wonderful woman to be with... she laughed... she sang... she smiled... but you know what I love most about her?"

Ali looked up and looked at Yuu.

"She makes people around her smile as well. She wouldn't want you to act like this. Y/N, She too lost a parent in her younger days. But that didn't stop her from being happy... She always had joy in her eyes... and you know you have her E/C eyes as well"

"So please... Don't let this bring you down. Your mother... Be like her. someone who smiles, laughed and most of all makes others do the same. sure reality doesn't have a happy ending. But you're writing your own story so make sure it leads to one."

Ali thought about it. looks back down... looks at the mirror in the room and looked straight into his E/N coloured eyes.

"You're right, Professor. Even if mother is gone... I should make her proud" Ali stood up with smile.

Ali bowed.

"Thank you, Professor Yuu!"

"Just call me, Yuu."

Ali smiled and ran off back to his dorm and to his room.

Yuu on the other hand stood up and went to the window and looked at the sky.

"I wish... I could've held you one last time... Y/N... I loved you so much" Yuu said as he let the tears fall.

Ali pulled a box from under his bed and opened it...

It may not fit his outfit but it doesn't matter.

he stood up holding the object and went to a mirror.

He looked straight at it and placed the hat he was given on his head.

"I'll prove... that I can give us a happy ending, Mother"

and with that Ali changed... He changed for the better. all the old staff watched him... and it reminded them of someone who they once cherished in this school.

-Time Skip-

it's been 2 years since Y/N's passing. Ali Al-Asim was now 18 years old. A third year.

But what's interesting is. when his 1st year ended the mirror had announced something... He was transferred to a different dorm.

-Flashback-

Just as they were all about to leave.

"Wait... It seems someone's soul had reshaped into something new." the mirror had stated.

"What? but that's not possible" Crowley said in surprise.

"Ali Al-Asim... Step forward"

Ali hesitantly stepped up.

"Yes... it seems your soul had reshaped... though you are still suited to be a part of Scarabia... Your heart... Is perfect for the Ramshackle Dorm"

"Isn't that"

"Your mother's old dorm... well it seems like you're becoming just like your mother" Crowley smiled as he placed a hand on the boys shoulder.

-end of flashback-

And since then he became the dorm head of the Ramshackle. His hat suited his outfit. he was happy.

And right now the 18 year old was going to make a decision that'll change his life.

Currently standing Infront of his father, Kalim Al-Asim. wearing a somewhat butler outfit somewhat similar to that of what his mother wore back in her younger days as a Hatter.

"Father... I don't wish to be an Al-Asim anymore."

"What? could you repeat that?"

"I don't want to be an Asim."

"But son! you're my eldest! you're my successor!"

"And I don't want to be your successor!"

"why!?"

"I want to continue mother's legacy!" Ali yelled as he gripped his wrist behind his back while looking down.

"what?"

"I want to be a Hatter! I want to carry on the Hatter name! I want to do this for mother! it the least you could let me do"

"the least I could let you do?"

"Yes! The most you could do was probably be there for her!"

"Ali"

"You left her all alone! making her cry every night! every night for you!"

"She didn't get her happily ever after! Cause you weren't there there for her! you weren't there for us!HECK She would've been contented with just you being there even if you didn't love her anymore!"

"YOU DIDN'T EVEN COME TO HER FUNERAL!" Ali snapped.

"I know you are aware that You're naive, gullible, oblivious and all that. but please... just see it... the least you could do" Ali looked up and looked Kalim straight in the eyes.

Kalim staring back into E/C colored orbs that was exactly the same as his wife that had recently passed away.

He looked down and took a deep breathe

"Alright"

"Huh?"

"I'll... let you go..."

"Really?"

"yes... as you said... it's the least I could do for not even attending the funeral."

"Thank you... father" Ali smiled as he walked away.

this was a new start for Ali... Becoming just like his mother. Writing a happily ever after for them.

We can't say the same for Kalim though.

He sat at his chair.

His 2rd wife entered the room and sat beside him.

"What did he want?" she asked.

"To leave the family"

"what?"

"He... wanted to become a Hatter to continue Y/N's legacy."

"I see... don't worry I'm here... and besides I'm sure we can make a new heir."

"I'm not in the mood"

"But, dear~"

right then and there Kalim snapped.

"I SAID IM NOT IN THE MOOD!" He yelled.

"BECAUSE OF YOUR DAMN FAMILY THREATENING TO HURT MY SON AND MY BELOVED WIFE I WAS FORCED TO NEGLECT HER!"

"IF IT WASN'T FOR YOUR DAMN FAMILY I WOULD PROBABLY BE HOLDING HER RIGHT NOW WITH ANOTHER CHILD!"

"ALL BECAUSE YOU WANTED ME TO LOVE YOU! YOU'RE DELUSIONAL IF YOU THINK I WOULD!"

"What is it... WHAT IS IT DOES SHE HAVE THAT I DON'T!?"

"My heart... that's what it is... SHE WAS MY EVERYTHING! HER SMILE THAT WAS PRACTICALLY MY SUN! HER EYES THAT SHIMMERED LIKE THE STARS!"

"SHE DESERVES TO BE DEAD! SHE'S NOT FIT TO BE YOUR WIFE! SHE'S NOT FIT TO HAVE YOU! ME, ME, ME! IT WAS ME WHO SHOULD HAVE YOU! SHE'S HIDEOUS! SHE'S DUMB! SHE'S NAIVE! SO WHY WON'T YOU LOOK AT ME!"

"DON'T YOU DARE THAT ABOUT HER! FIRST OF ALL SHE'S THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN TO HAVE EVER EXISTED THAT EVEN VIL SAID SO! YOU WOULD NEVER BE AS BEAUTIFUL AS HER! SECOND SHE GRADUATED FROM NRC WITH TOP GRADES FITTING INTO THE TOP 50! SHE KNOWS MORE THAN YOU EVER WILL! AND THIRD OF ALL SHE'S NOT AS NAIVE AS YOU THINK! SHE EXPERIENCED THE CRUELTY OF THE WORLD TO THE POINT SHE WAS ALMOST BROKEN! BUT SHE JUST SMILED AND SAID THAT EVERYTHING WOULD BE JUST FINE! I BET YOU WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO HANDLE IT IF IT HAD HAPPENED TO YOU! FACE IT I'LL NEVER LOOK AT YOU THE SAME I DO WITH HER!"

"THAT'S WHY I KILLED HER SO YOU WOULD ONLY LOOK AT ME- MPH!" she clasped her mouth shut trembling from what came out.

"what? WHAT did you just say?"

"n-nothing!"

"WE HAD A DEAL! YOU WOULD LEAVE THEM ALONE IN EXCHANGE FOR ALL OF THIS!"

"I-I didn't mean to!"

"DIDN'T MEAN TO MY *SS! AS IF I'D BELIEVE THAT! JAMIL!"

Soon Jamil entered the room. in truth he was about to enter till he heard screaming and heard the entire thing.

"Yes, Kalim"

"Take her away. make her confess EVERYTHING that she had done. After that could you call Azul? I want to have a talk with him to deal with something."

"Yes, of course" Jamil left with the 2nd wife being taken away by guards.

"WAIT! KALIM PLEASE! I LOVE YOU! DON'T DO THIS TO ME!"

As they all left the room Kalim sat down and tears started running down his face.

"Why was I so stupid? thinking I could protect you without having to hurt anyone but as a result I ended up hurting you... then lost you. I should've dealt with them from the start. I should've just been there for you... now I not only lost you... but I lost our son too... haha! why am I so stupid?"

For the rest of the night Kalim just cried. knowing can never bring you back.

-END-

"isn't that an interesting timeline."

"Didn't know that there would be a bad ending to their story. I hope this timeline won't stick it would be so sad~" a voice said as she closed a book that's titled 'You Weren't there'

soon the book started to become grains of sand.

"oh? what is this?"

"The timeline is disintegrating"

"I guess that means that story won't be sticking around."She then pushed up her glasses as she looked back at the millions of books being written each having a pen that glows with inspiration and life."I wonder who's story would be finished next~ would the story disappear? or will it be part of the official collection?"

"Let's see what endings are in-store~ After all"

"I am the story keeper~"

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst kalim #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #kalim x reader #scarabia

[snowdice]

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 67]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Got many things to do today, though I do have a meeting in a bit over an hours, so there will be a break.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

 “Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

 Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

 “How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

 “Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

 Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

 It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

 Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

 He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

 “I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

 “You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

  Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

 “He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

 “I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

 Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

 The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

 “No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

 “How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

 She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

 “Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

  Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

 “Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

 “Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

 “Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

 “A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

 “No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

 Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

 Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

 Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

 “Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

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Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

  Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

 Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

 “Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

 “Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

 “Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

 Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

 Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

 This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

 The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

 Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

 “Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

 Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

 “Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

 He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

 “It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

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“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

  Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

 “It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

 It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

 Frowning, he pulled at the blanket around his shoulder so he could wrap it and his arm around the lump that was Virgil. He brushed the boy’s hand when he did so and found it was like ice.

“You’re freezing!” Logan said. “How long have you been by the window?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Logan was already tugging at him. “You need to get back in bed,” he said.

Virgil obeyed the pulling at his arms even as he frowned. “I’ve been colder than this before,” he said.

“That actually doesn’t make me feel better,” Logan replied dryly as he shooed him towards the bed.

 He took the thicker blanket that usually stayed folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over Virgil before climbing into bed beside him.

“There,” Logan said, rubbing Virgil’s arms through the fabric of the sweater he wore to bed. He was glad he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt at least. “The runes for heating the castle should catch up within a few hours, but until then this should do. Assuming we don’t sit by the freezing window for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I don’t like the cold,” Virgil told him.

Logan sighed. “Then why did you sit by the window?”

 Virgil shrugged and ducked his head a bit. Logan reached out to grab his hands to help him warm more but was surprised when one of the hands was much warmer than the other. He found his fingers were clutching a crescent shaped stone: the protection charm they’d made. Logan knew that he kept it in his pocket most of the time, but he didn’t normally see him holding it like this. It was warm to the touch, of course, indicating the safety of the room around them.

Logan looked over his face. “Are you…” he said. “Scared of the snow?”

 “I don’t like the cold,” he said once again.

“You’re scared of the winter,” Logan concluded. He looked at Virgil who was far too small for his age and seemed surprised at every casual act of kindness. It was clear that his basic needs were far from being met before he came here. Logan had to wonder what winter usually meant for him. His experiences were doubtlessly very different from Logan’s own. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged, “but you don’t need to be scared of it here. The castle is always perfectly warm and safe in the winter and Mr. Deknis and Ms. Heart work hard during the other seasons to make sure we have plenty of food. There is nothing to fear here.”

 He did not seem convinced.

“You don’t even have to go outside if you don’t want to,” Logan promised. “The castle is plenty big if you’d like to stay inside all winter long. It was made for the winter even without the magic devices that keep it warm. We have fireplaces and well insulated rooms even if those that ends up failing.” Logan pulled open the hand that had the protection charm just to transfer it to his other hand to warm it. “Though, while no one would force you to go outside, the snow isn’t always bad.”

“Yes it is,” Virgil said, his voice sure.

 “Not all the time,” Logan insisted. “Some people love the snow.”

“They’re stupid.”

Logan laughed. “It can be fun for a while with the right equipment if you have someplace to get warm again afterwards. Royal duties slow down during the winter and Patton tends to come up with all sorts of games for both the inside and the outside to pass the time. He’s particularly proficient at snowball fights, at least against me.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Play fighting,” Logan answered. “Like pillow fights, but snow.”

“I’ll stick with the pillows,” he replied.

“And then there’s a hill to sled down on the western side of the castle, and people like to build snowmen along the path.”

“What are snowmen?” Virgil asked.

 They’re temporary statues made out of packed snow,” Logan explained. “Typically, they’re made of three different sized balls of snow: the largest being the base and the smallest the ‘head’ though there are some variations. After building them one typically decorates them with different articles of clothing and objects found lying around. It’s usually sticks and rocks for the face and then things like extra hats and scarfs for decoration.” He smiled softly. “When my Pa was alive, we used to steal my Dad’s crown and fanciest robes. Sometimes Pa would steal it right off of Dad’s head and we’d run away. We’d find a secluded area of the castle yards and build the biggest snowman we could as quickly as we could before we got caught. He’d usually end up letting us keep the robes, but we’d have to give the crown back since some of the metals in it would rust when wet.”

 “That sounds…” Virgil’s nose twitched. “fun if you take away the touching snow part.”

Logan laughed. “It is fun,” he said. “Even with the touching snow part. Though, I admit that some of the ability for it to be entertaining does come from the fact that we could warm up afterwards with ease. You’ll enjoy Patton’s mother’s constant offering of hot chocolate during the season even if you never go outside, I’m sure.”

“Hot chocolate?” Virgil asked intrigued. His dark eyes shone brightly in the little light coming through the window. It was clear he could guess something about the drink just by the name and enjoyed the implications.

 Logan smiled fondly. “It is a hot drink,” he explained. “It’s a warm drink made out of milk and chocolate. I can get you some to try in the morning.”

Virgil nodded, eyes still wide with interest.

“For now, we should sleep though,” Logan said. “Are you warm enough? I can get more blankets.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Logan said, reaching up and adjusting the blanket over them once more, tucking it around Virgil a little bit for good measure. “Goodnight Virgil,” he said.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly. Logan reached under the blankets to grab the hand that was still slightly chilly from the window between his own. Virgil’s eyes slipped closed after a moment as he nuzzle his face into the pillow. At some point they both drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 36

Thomas had already been well aware that winter was on the way, but he and the rest of the castle occupants had been surprised at how intensely and suddenly it had come on. Most things were ready for the winter, but not all of them had been initiated. The fireplaces that took some pressure off the castle heating runes were cleaned out and ready, but they hadn’t been started yet. The stables for different animals on the grounds had been checked over and staff assignments had been made, but most were still in far out fields. Staff that went home for the winter months had been dismissed, but there were a few stragglers that would have to be helped home before things got worse.

 He’d gone out to the main stable to talk to the three workers that were the heads of different areas of animal husbandry to make sure a plan to get everything to where it needed to be soon was in place. It took a while to figure out considering that they’d expected a little more time before the first major snowfall. Thomas also asked them to make sure all of the workers’ homes were in good enough condition for the weather. Ranch hands typically had homes on castle grounds but not in the castle themselves since they needed to be close to the animals. Thomas knew at least half a dozen of those who spent most of their times out in the fields were the type to forgot to maintain their homes because they preferred camping amongst the animals in the summer months and then would be in for a bad time when snow began to fall.

 There should be enough extra rooms in the castle if they needed a place to stay until repairs could be done.

Those conversations took a good couple of hours, before Thomas was satisfied. Before trudging back to the castle through the still falling snow, he made a point to stop at one specific horse stall in the main stable. The horse turned his head to see Thomas when he stopped in front of his stall and puffed out a rather disaffected snort before sticking his head over the gate so Thomas could pat his nose. “Hello, Mr. Apples,” Thomas said.

 The horse seemed to conclude he’d tolerated Thomas’s petting enough and ducked his head to nudge at his torso. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I brought you an apple. Some things never change.” He reached into his pocket to grab the red apple he’d brought the white Arabian. “At least you don’t bite me anymore.” He paused, apple slice in hand and eyed the horse’s nose suspiciously. “Do not bite me,” he said even though he hadn’t felt the animal’s teeth in a decade. It would be just like Mr. Apples to wait until his guard was down.

 After a bit of scrutiny, he offered an apple slice. It was snatched out of his hand and there was a loud crunch as it was bit into.

“It’s snowing out,” he told the horse. The horse seemed to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “I’ll remind again that if you run out in a snowstorm, I’m not running after you, so you’d be out of luck.”

Mr. Apples snorted.

“You’re old now. You’d probably not survive long enough for people to find you. Besides, you blend in with that white fur of yours. They’d probably walk right past you a few times.”

 He went back to nosing for treats as soon as he finished his first and Thomas sighed, pulling out another apple slice. “What are they not feeding you enough?” The gusto with which the horse snatched the apple slice was a very clear answer. “Well, we both know that’s not true.” Thomas fed the horse a third slice of apple when he was done with his second. “I have to get back to the castle now. Don’t be a devil horse.”

Mr. Apples threw his head a bit, splattering apple smelling foamy spittle all over Thomas’s front.

“Understood. Have a nice afternoon.”

 He left Mr. Apples in his stall then, knowing he’d be well cared for no matter how ill-tempered he could be at times. He’d been a king’s horse once, after all, no matter that said king had been dead for more than a decade now.

Winters were hard.

Winters were the times when things always slowed down at the castle, where royal duties were often thin. There were a lot of memories in winter.

The trip back to the castle was not particularly long, but it was also not particularly pleasant. The snow had not been cleared away considering it was still snowing which meant his feet and legs were wet and cold by the time he made it to the nearest castle door.

 He wasn’t sure if, when he entered, the castle heating runes had started to work in earnest or if he’d just been so cold that any measure of warmth was appreciated, but he was relieved to be out of the snow either way.

He decided to check up on the progress of the castle staff lighting the fireplaces. With any luck, they’d be lit already, and he could warm up even more. That in mind, he headed towards the main foyer where the largest fireplace in the castle sat to take off the chill brought in by the large front doors.

 The main foyer was bustling with activity when he snuck in along the sides, giving the guards stationed around nods as he passed. The main fire in the room was burning brightly, though only one of the two smaller ones near the side exits from the room was lit. The other one was still being set up with safety mechanisms. It was good progress and assuming other areas of the castle were being set up as efficiently, he assumed they’d all be set up by nightfall.

He’d need to go check around to be sure, but for now, he walked up to the main fireplace to warm his hands.

 He’d gotten into the habit when he was younger to every so often glance upwards. There had been a certain stable boy who had a propensity for climbing trees. These days, he usually found nothing when he did so, often not even consciously noticing that he’d turned his gaze momentarily skywards. Yet, today, he was startled out of his own idleness by dark brown eyes looking back at him from a small ledge in the shadows high above him.

He froze as he met the young boy’s gaze. Virgil seemed as surprised to be caught as Thomas was to have caught him.

 Slowly Thomas raised one hand and waved to the boy. He slunk back into the shadows at the acknowledgment. If Thomas peered hard enough, he could see a shadow stretch up towards the third-floor balcony in the darkness and disappear over the railing.

Interesting boy.

Thomas found himself smiling despite the oddity. They still had not found out much about Virgil. He would speak to Jeffers about many things apparently, but often could not be redirected to invasive topics and he was still a bit skittish around Helen. He hadn’t willingly existed in a room with Thomas. Thomas hoped that changed at some point. There was something about him that made Thomas like him.

  Chapter 37

Virgil had not spent a lot of time out of Logan’s room. What little time he had spent outside of it was either with Patton and/or Logan or tucked away in secret corridors he found in the walls where no one would stumble upon him. Yet, here he was willingly in a, well, not public by any means place, but one that was still more exposed than he was used to being in. Somehow, he was managing to not care at all.

It was helped by the fact that both Logan and Patton had been in the room at the start, but they had gone off to go… somewhere. Food sounded like it might have been the reason.

 He liked food, and usually he would have been all for going to get some, but between them promising to bring him back some and the fact that he was never going to move ever again, he’d decided to stay.

Princess Marisol seemed to be the only other rational being in the whole castle because she had also not moved since discovering the contents of this room. She was currently laying on his chest purring happily.

The fireplace was a wonderful invention. Now, Virgil had, of course, warmed up by a fire before when it was cold, but this was much different. There was a grate that blocked off the fire a bit keeping it from burning the person in front of it and there was a plush rug right by it, perfect for laying down on. Someone had known what they were doing when designing this room.

 He didn’t even care that the king had access to this sitting room as well as Logan.

…

Okay, so he did care a little bit, but he was ignoring that. He was probably busy this time of day anyway, right?

…

He really didn’t want to run into him after being caught watching the castle workers set up the bigger fireplaces. Kings probably didn’t like people sneaking around watching things from the shadows even when they didn’t know that the person sneaking around was literally sent to kill them.

Princess Marisol must have had a sixth sense for his anxieties (or he’d just started breathing faster and disturbed her) because she stirred a bit.

#proofread stories #not writing

[aquamarina7]

The Snake Pit- Zutara one-shot

· Zutara drabble

· Fire Lord x Fire Lady

· Words: 2,700

· Summary: Katara wakes up from a disturbing dream that sets her day off down a surprising spiral. This is set on one day, post-war, Zuko and Katara are now married and living together at the palace.

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

A snake, large and hungry peered out of the deep pit in the desert. She looked around for anyone, anything that could help her but there was nothing but dust for miles. The snake could smell her. It slowly slid out of the pit and crawled towards her. She wanted to run but her feet remained planted to the floor. As the snake moved closer, it grew in size. It hissed and opened it’s mouth. She could feel the ground shift as it slid closer and closer and bit her.

Katara jumped up out of her dream, sweating. She panted heaily and parted the knotted hair from her face. She stretched out her hand in the dark to reach for the glass of lukewarm water by the side of her bed. Her pants subsided slowly as she gulped down the cool water that felt healing to her body. As she drank the liquid heavily the body beside her started stirring. Zuko rolled sleepily on his side and glanced up at her through matted hair.

“Another nightmare?” he groaned.

“Yeah” she whispered weakly as she settled back into the bed, face up. Zuko cleared his throat and shuffled up the bed to place his arm under her neck for support.

“What was it this time?” he peered at her in the dark.

“The snake again” she sighed and turned to him, her face still haunted by the dream.

“Come here” Zuko pulled her closer into his chest and kissed to top of her head “they’ll pass Katara. Trust me. If not, I may have to jump into one of those dreams and slay the snake once and for all, like I did the dragon” she chuckled softly and looks up at him.

“You did not slay that dragon Zuko, Aang told me the real story, remember” she poked at his side.

“Well maybe I need to speak to Aang to get our stories straight on that one” His smile made her feel warm again and the last images of her dream seeped away. “You know-” Zuko began after a few moments of silence “You may be lucky.”

“Lucky?” she asked.

“A reoccurring dream, I mean. It’s good luck here” Katara scoffed “No, I mean it. We have gurus, oneirocritics, dream interpreters. They tend to live way out in the outskirts. They read futures and mix potions. It all mainly old wives tales, but the people in the fire nation really believe in them” Katara played mindlessly with her fingers.

“Oh really?” she grinned “and what’s your analysis Fire Lord?”

“Well…” Zuko scratched the back of his head “Maybe I’m the snake” he slowly began to wrap his arms around her “and I’m coming to catch you and make you mine!” he tightened his hold on her, his arms tightening around her like a boa constrictor and playfully jumped on top of her.

“It wouldn’t be the first time” she grinned daringly. He attacked her with kisses and she fought back with her own. He stopped and stared deeply into her, his arms locked and sturdy. Her hand rose to push his long hair out of his face.

“I love you” she whispered and leant upward to meet his lips. He leant in and deepened their kiss; closing the space between them to feel her body underneath his. He pressed himself down to feel her and they both gasped for air. A small moan left Katara’s mouth before the door to their room flew open and a strong stream of light entered in.

“Fire Lord Zuko, the Ambassador arrived late last night, he is scheduled to meet with you in an hour. Before that, you must remember to sign the Shi Treaty and write to General Iroh when you get the chance. Oh, and good morning Lady Katara, you are representing both the North and South pole in today’s agreements as Master Feng can’t be present unfortunately. You also will host Lady Wren later this week, but other than that, you’re relatively free today.”

“Morning Lou” Katara growled from underneath Zuko, still in their intimate position.

“Lou, what did we say? No interruptions until 6 O’clock” Zuko turned to face her. Lou was a middle-aged women with short greying hair. She was Zuko’s chief assistant and constantly walked with a long task scroll and a team of staff behind her. Her staff scuttled around the room, welcoming the morning in. They opened the blinds, began to run water, take out dress robes and placed a tray of fruit down on the table in the middle of the large open area.

“Yes sir, and I believe it was 6, 4 minutes ago!” she exclaimed. Zuko scowled and arose to drape a silk burgundy rope around his bare chest. Katara sat up and pulled her loose curly hair into a bun on top her head. She dismissed the servants silently and watched them file out the room.

“Lou, if we could just have one more minute, we would greatly appreciate it” she said softly as she looked over at an annoyed Zuko.

“As you wish my Lady, but we will need to get going soon” Lou bowed and took a few steps back.

“Of course Lou, we’ll be right with you” Katara smiled her best ‘please-leave’ smile as Lou exited the room. They both let out a big sigh.

“I hate it when she does that” Zuko sulked, stretching his long arms up towards the ceiling.

“I know, I understand she has a job to do, but a knock would be nice” she chuckled as she walked up and gave a light hug to his stretched torso. His arms dropped to her waist and she gave a light peck to the warm skin peaking out his robe.

“See you tonight then” he spoke into her hair and then swiftly headed out towards the door. “I love you!” he shouted as he left and she smiled.

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

Katara’s day went relatively normal from then, she was pushed into different rooms with different people, signed many scrolls that were shoved into her hand. She bowed to officials and everyone else bowed to her. What had made her day worse was how uncomfortable her dress robes were this particular day. Katara had spent the first few months after she had become fire lady, trying her best to fit into the strange traditions of the fire nation. Their clothing was one of her biggest battels and the itchy silks and tight corsets were far from the comfort she has once known. After weeks of light-headedness from what could be only be explained as suffocation from her gowns, Katara met with her tailor to design garments that were less constricting and used a mix of materials from the water tribes and fire nation, that she was so used to. Being able to breath made her more productive as a fire lady and actually started a trend in the fire nation. It was common now to see noble ladies with fur trims and loosely wrapped fabrics walk the palace halls. This did not explain, however, the way her dress robes sat tightly against her on this particular day, which she was sure was to blame for the tiredness she felt halfway through her third official meeting of the day. She reminded herself to visit the tailor that week.

“Lady Katara, your next appointment has arrived” Lou appeared out of nowhere and interrupted her thoughts.

“Oh, I thought you said I was free the rest of the day?” Katara heavily raised herself from the soft chair she had comfortably been dozing off in.

“Yes, but Lord Zuko arranged you to meet the local oneirocritic guru impromptu this afternoon” Katara laughed out loud, unladylikely, and fixed the tight belt around her “is something wrong my Lady?”

“No, not at all Lou. Lord Zuko just has a silly sense of humour, that’s all” Katara chuckled. “Okay, so where am I meeting them?”

“Right this way.”

Lou led Katara round to the west of the palace, the quieter side. She met Guru Sying in a smoky room full of incense. She had placed several precious stones and branches around her and sat humming. Katara took a seat on the bamboo mat. There was a hot cup of tea in front of her that as she began to sip tasted sour in her mouth; she winced in disgust of the tea and set it down, trying her hardest not to insult the Guru’s kind gesture.

“Tell me of about your dream my Lady” the guru said softly. Katara fiddled with the tight fabric around her to get comfortable, took a deep breath and began to recount her reoccurring nightmare. The guru calmly ‘ummed’ and ‘ahhed’ at different points until she came to an end.

“So what do you think?” Katara asked inquisitively, genuinely interested to see if anyone could make sense of things right now.

“Well, the snake is not an uncommon character in one’s dream” Guru Sying began “the snake often represents fertility. And the snake biting you, is quite clear to me-”

“Wait, you think my dream means I’m, I’m…” Katara stuttered, unable to find the word.

“Well, how long have you been struggling to get in that robe” the Guru pointed out “and does the taste of duraaj tea always repulse you?” she smiled softly and gestured to the full cup sat in front of her.

“No, I can’t be” Katara shook her head

“You’ve been married to the Fire Lord for over two years now, have you not my Lady?”

“Yes”

“A long time indeed. And have you seen your physician recently?”

“No, I…..- LOU!” Katara yelled. Lou slid open the bamboo slides and poked her head through.

“Send for my physician please. Quickly!” She stared at Guru Sying in shock and Guru Sying held out her hands for Katara to take “Your dream is a sign from Agni, Lady Katara” she smiled.

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

Katara sat in the bedroom all evening to escape the chaos of the palace. She slept a few hours until she heard the sounds of Zuko’s voice close by. She could hear him desperately trying to end a conversation as he retired into their quarters. When he made it through past their private commons, into the bedroom, he immediately dropped his heavy robes to the floor and stepped out of the first golden layers of the garment. Katara sat up from the bed and watched him silently until he turned around.

“Oh you’re here!” he smiled a broad smile as he came towards her. “well what did you think of my surprise” he laughed, smugness painted across his face, clearly he thought he had played a successful prank on her “did she get anything right?” he beamed.

“Oh, she was definitely right about one thing” Katara replied.

“Oh wow. I just sent for her to make you laugh, but that’s great if it helped. Tell me about it.” He took a seat beside her on the bed. Katara sat up and tried to speak but nothing came out.

“Katara? Is everything alright? What did she tell you? You have to believe me whatever it was, they’re just superstitious stories. Nothing to worry about” he took her hand in his.

“Well, she said the snake represents… fertility” she began

“Uh-oh, do we need to be more careful” Zuko joked and playfully squeezed her thigh, met with nothing but a serious stare “Sorry, I guess I should leave the jokes to Sokka. And?”

“And, she said I should be looked over by my physician” Katara continued “and… well. Zuko I’ve missed 4 cycles and my robes are tight and I think…” she clung to his hands “I think I may be, be pregnant Zuko.” She took the courage to look up into his eyes. He didn’t blink and she felt the temperature rise in their clasped hands. “Zuko?” she lifted her hands to his face to check for a reaction.

“And you’re sure?” he got out dryly

“Well, it kind of explains everything.” She smiled shyly. Zuko’s eyelashes batted and a hot tear fell and evaporated on his cheek.

“Katara” he began “I love you and you know I want to be so happy in this moment with you” his face fell “but you know how I feel about becoming a…..a father” his lips quivered. Katara had prepared herself for these words. Even when the physician had examined her and excitedly announced her pregnancy, her small smile quickly dissolved when thoughts of Zuko crept into her mind. She had remembered the long nights before their wedding. Zuko had finally opened up and discussed his largest fear. That he would become like his father, Ozai. He told her that as long as he felt that there was any chance of him being anything like his father, he would never father is own children, no matter how much the palace officials begged him. Katara understood him and welcomed his fears to comfort him. She thought, surely as the years passed, he would become confident in his role as Fire Lord and those fears of fatherhood would be destroyed; however, over two years after her wedding and she still drank the medicinal tea once a week to control her cycle. Of course, the tea was never an 100 percent guarantee, however, it had worked so well for them and their schedules with each other and it had been so long since she had had a pregnancy scare.

“Zuko, listen to me. I know you’re scared but you are not like him. You’re nothing like Ozai” Zuko’s face turned. I hurt to hear his name “-and you’ve proved that through your reign so far as fire lord” she held him sturdy.

“You don’t get it. That has nothing to do with who I will be as a father” he gulped

“It has everything to do with who you are as a father Zuko” Katara held onto his shoulder to bring him square onto her. “you are a loving and caring fire lord. You protect your people and are forgiving of their short-comings. You have made so many right decisions in your years in power and these are qualities I know you will be as a father” before Zuko’s head could sink any further Katara caught it in her hand and lifted his eyes to her.

“I don’t want to be like him Katara. I can’t see myself becoming like him” he wept “what he did to my mother, me, my Uncle, even Azula. It was unforgiveable” his hand rose to the scared side of his face. Katara stopped him and place her own hands in his scar. She stroked her thumb across the rough, hot skin and planted and long and soft kiss there.

“Zuko, you would never hurt me or our child. That’s not who you are.” He looked up at her “This child is our chance to continue what you have started as Fire Lord. To continue to spread love and compassion and all the crazy things we’ve learnt together with the Fire Nation. This is the way we ensure our legacy, what we stand for lives on” she pulled his hand to her stomach “I know you’re ready for this, even if you don’t know it yourself” he gave a short reassuring smile.

“You really think I’m ready?” he asked, almost like child. Katara smiled

“I knew you were ready two years ago, when I married you.” She leant her head on his shoulder. He didn’t move “you think I would have married you if I didn’t believe you would be a good father?!” she joked. She felt him settle around her, his hand still on her stomach

“I guess not” he lightly chuckled “It was hard enough to get you to marry me”

“Was not!” she pushed him

“You said NO!”

“-the first time” she giggled “we’re not starting this again” she stood up

“I’m just saying, I’m not someone who likes to ask twice” he followed her to the middle of the room. “So…” he slowly entwined his fingers in hers.

“So, we’ve got this.” She smiled into him “Together” he closed the gap between them and kissed a calming kiss that sank down to her feet. Two loud bangs suddenly echoed through the room, disrupting their stillness.

“Fire Lord Zuko!” they heard a breathless call. They both sighed and shared a small smile at each other.

“I’m coming Lou” Zuko calls back; he shares one last moment with his wife, taking in all her pregnancy aura.

“At least she knocked this time” Katara chuckled.

#zutara #zutara month #zutaramonth #zutara month 2021 #atla fanfic #atla #zuko #katara #zuko x katara #lady katara #fluff #zutara fluff

[lu-undy]

Request #7

The Sniper/Spy Pirate AU! Here on AO3!

Each step taken on the wooden bridge made the planks of it creak under worn-out, heeled, leather boots. The gun's strap needed adjusting, so he stopped and tied it neatly again for the long barrel to rest across his back.

He gulped down his dry throat and thought to himself that a visit to the local bar would do him some good. After all, the past few weeks at sea had been tiring. So he raised his hand and his feathery companion landed on it. 

“Hoo?”

The owl opened his eyes wide and round. In the dead of night, it could see perfectly. 

“Let’s go.” The hoarse voice said and the owl jumped to the tall man’s shoulder.

After walking in town for quite a while, being offered the favours of women in ragged dresses and men in torn out coats, the man in the long, dark brown, sleeveless coat heard the familiar racket of a pub. Perfect. He pushed the door. 

The songs of drunk men and the chatter of the way-past-tipsy were melodies that the scruffy man was used to. He entered the place and bent his head slightly, to not bump his head. Only the colourful feathers of exotic birds on his hat grazed the top of the doorframe.

He sat at a secluded table, and waited for someone to take his order. A beer, fresh and bitter, that's what he liked. 

"I swear they exist!"

"Bah…! Nonsense, I've heard the stories."

Some other poor sailing souls were chatting loudly. 

"What stories?" A young one asked as the man in the long coat paid for his beer with doubloons. The waitress bit them to check and moved away. 

"Listen, kid. There are stories out there about the Great Nine." An old man recalled.

"What are they?"

"You mean who are they? They were the best pirates over all the seas! The bounties over their heads would clean a bank dry of all of its money! Countless folks tried to best them, none of them came back to tell their stories." 

"They were? They're dead?"

"Rumour has it they're dead. But I could never believe it, nah…" The old man shook his head, his eyebrows were so bushy that he looked like he had just one going from one end of his face to the other.

"Why?"

"Cause every once in a while, you hear of them." 

"Have you ever met one?" 

"Nah, but I've heard the stories. Last somebody saw some was over in Europe! Some are here, in the colonies, and there's one that no one knows where he is."

"What's so special about him?" The young sailor asked. 

"Some say he doesn't even exist. He could be anywhere. See that tree there?" The old man pointed through the window. "He could be that very tree."

Another sailor sat at the table with a pint. The old man went on. 

"Some say he might be your mum right now!"

"Others say he might be with your mum right now!" The sailor who had just joined said and laughter boomed in the dimly lit bar. "He's a master of disguises, as loud as shadow, and so good with men and women that folks say he never sleeps alone! But he could be anywhere and anyone! He could be you, he could be me, he could even be-"

"Oh shut up! The Great Nine don't exist!" Another voice said and disturbed the peace of the man with the owl, who winced.

"Yeah, they do! I heard one of them is around these parts of the world." The old one answered. 

"Really?" The young one asked. "Which one!?" 

"They say he can see like a bird of prey, even at night, like an owl. Best eyesight on all the seas, can gun down anyone and any prey from any distance, even blindfolded, they say!"

"Bullocks!" Another one answered. "The Great Nine are the stuff of legend!"

"They aren't!"

Two groups formed in the tavern and the argument went on. 

"But what's so special about them?" The young sailor asked.

"Each of them are experts in somethin'. Folks say they invented their craft!"

"What do they do?" The young one asked.

"One's said to put mountains to shame. Muscles that pile higher than what you've ever seen."

"Another one's said to have blown up an entire island with one eye. They say his eye socket is haunted!" 

"Aye! And there's one who's said to jump so high and run so fast, you can't see him!"

"The fourth can build cannons that fire without being manned!" 

"The fifth one drinks his beer only if it's set ablaze and he's the only pirate who can sail a wooden ship on flames!"

"The sixth blasts his gun with his hat over his eyes and can jump in the air with cannons!" 

"And the last one is a healer." 

"A healer?" The young one repeated, perplexed. "How can he be a pirate then?" 

"Rumour has it he's sailing with the pile of muscles and can make him invincible with a secret potion. He also brought some folks back from the dead!"

"How would you recognise them?" The young one asked.

"Only in battle, kid. If you see one of the miracles we described to ya, then you'll know. Legend says some can also recognise each other somehow."

"And you said he was around these parts, the one with great eyesight. How do you recognise him in particular? D'you have to watch him fight?"

"He's got a gun like none other, with one very long barrel. Rumour has it he built it on his own, forged the metal and all. Besides, he's got an owl for a pet." The old sailor resumed. "They say he sees through its eyes."

"Yeah, that's why a lot of folks think they saw him. They see a man with a bird and get scared…!"

"An owl?" The young one repeated. "Like this guy?" 

All the eyes turned to that one man with the long, dark brown coat and the hat with two exotic feathers on it. He stood up and took his leave, his owl firmly perched on his shoulder. He had heard enough.

A few days later, the man with the owl looked for a contract again. As a hunter, he was a patient man and could have waited more but he missed the sea. He looked around in town to find something suitable for him. He knew the basics of sailing but that wasn't his strongest asset. He much preferred being hired as an assassin. 

In the past, he had had contracts to protect convoys or attack some. He also had hunting contracts for exotic and rare species. As he had spent a lot of time with the wildlife of the colonies, he had become quite the expert with the fauna. 

"Hoo." 

The owl flew from his shoulder to a sign where people pin letters, advertisements for jobs. The man took a closer look. He eliminated a lot of them until one caught his attention. He tore the paper out of the sign and shoved it in his pocket before heading to the address mentioned on it. 

"Sir, a gentleman to see you, for business."

"Let him in."

The house wasn't a house. It was a bloody palace and a half. The governor of that area sure was well-off. 

The old, heeled boots clicked and clacked with every step on the immaculate, white tiled floor, as the man with the contract in his pocket followed the butler. They eventually arrived in a spacious and luxuriously decorated room at the end of which was a desk and the governor sitting at it.

"Faites vite." 

The man in the ragged clothes didn't move. Ah, yes, that was French territory and the governor was of course, French. 

"I said to make it quick." The governor translated himself and one could hear the accent even though he could speak in perfect English.

The man raised a finger and his pet owl flew to it. He looked the governor in the eye and removed his peculiar long gun from his back, holding it firmly in his palm.

"Ah, I see you are here for the job?" 

He nodded, the feathers on the hat brushed the air.

"Well, you are hired." 

The butler's eyebrows jumped. The governor didn't even ask anything about that vagabond and just hired him? 

"Let me give you some details. Pray take a seat." 

The man with the long gun obeyed. 

"My ship will transport some gold and sugar from this island to further up North. From there, the cargo will be transferred to a group of ships and transported back to Europe. Your job is to make sure that the first step of the plan goes smoothly. Namely, that all the cargo makes it up North. Am I clear?"

"Any particular risk of attack?" The man had finally spoken and his voice was deep and hoarse. 

"Pirates." The governor said. "They are growing more and more numerous by the minute, reproducing like rats. The English are of course to be distrusted, and some reports tell us that even some Spanish ships were seen to roam around these coasts."

The feathers on the hat nodded slowly. 

"Payment?" The hoarse voice asked. 

"As promised on contract, and only when I have received a letter from France saying that they received all of it."

Again, the couple of exotic feathers bowed and bounced back up. 

"Will I be alone on the job?" 

"No, of course not. A group of my guards will be there."

"Why hire me then? Don't trust them?" 

"A pile of gold can make a man's oath for service swing." The governor answered. "Any more questions?" 

The man under the hat shook his head. 

"Then I have one for you. What is your name?"

"M."

The governor's eyebrows twitched but he then promptly nodded. 

"Fine then, Mister M. The ship will depart tonight, the crew will expect you." 

M nodded and rose to his feet before turning away. 

"M?"

He turned back to the governor. 

"Here, take this letter with you. My crew will let you on board if you show it." 

M took the letter and nodded before leaving. 

It was still early in the day and when M exited the governor's palace, he decided to spend some time on his own, walking around town. 

M wasn't a man of many friends. The owl he had, Hootsy, was his longest one. He had rescued it as it was but a young chick and raised it until it became a proud and grown up owl. M wasn't very talkative either. Some people would even say that his owl would speak more than him. But it didn't matter much to him. He was living for Hootsy and himself, he had no family either. 

He had his parents back home but when he had come back to them with mountains of money, they had kicked him out. That was a mistake on M's part. Of course a beginner sailor couldn't make that much. He had tried to make them believe that it was all honest money, but of course, they didn't believe him and had guessed that he had joined some pirates. 

So much for family and friends. He had none left. And what about love interests, hm? Wanting to start a family? Wave goodbye to the seas and stay on land with a woman and a few kids? 

Nah. He liked the sea too much and the women so little.

The truth was that anytime he wanted a night to be less lonely, he would rarely go to women. It happened, sometimes, that he would try a woman again. But there was nothing that got to him more than a man's attention. Somehow, it was more honest, more true, and even if at the end of the day it was but a transaction - a service in exchange for doubloons - it never failed to make a spark in his heart.

And that spark, he had learnt to put it off, bury it and move on. M was cursed, not because he liked men - many pirates were like him - but because he had stepped a foot in a type of life that wouldn’t allow him to exit it. Being at sea, the salt floating in the air, the seagulls chanting the land and men chanting the waves, the bobbing of the ship, the thrill of a chase, of a fight, and emerging victorious against the authorities, against forces that deemed your job illegal and your whole purpose void; yeah, that was what M had developed an addiction to. Of course men would fall and die, people he would call “mate” for a trip, a voyage, they would leave him. And it seemed to him that however big the number of people he called “mate”, the number of dead men would always rise higher and death would swallow them all eventually like a gigantic hungry shark.

And the curse did not end there. M had to hide. He did not want people to call him “mate”. He let them do it, just for the purpose of the job and because it would seem unusual if he asked other crewmates to treat him differently. But the truth was that he was different, he wasn’t like any odd pirate. No, God had to make him special and on top of pushing away any semblance of friendship, the cruel one high above had to make M do the heart-breaking job of actively pushing people away himself. Why? Because if they knew who he was, they would try to kill him.

M looked at the sun and it barely started to go down. A cold beer would do. He shoved a hand in his pocket and felt the coins. Yeah, that should do for a pint or two. He headed for the harbor and entered a tavern there. 

The setting was much different than that pub of the previous day. Everywhere around him were official sailors, people who had a wage and all for their work. There were even a few blue coats, officers of the French naval forces. M didn’t pay any attention to them. He went to the counter and placed his order, barely noticing the eyes riveted on him, the odd one in the crowd.

“Mais qu’est-ce qu’il fait là? Il n’a pas l’air Français.”

[What the hell is he doing here? He doesn’t look French.]

“A mon avis, c’est un de ces pirates, ou pire, un Anglais.”

[In my opinion, he’s a pirate, or worse, he could be English.]

“Un pirate? Ici? Il tend le bâton pour se faire battre…”

[A pirate? Here? He is asking to be beaten up...]

M’s understanding of French was limited to sailing words. But no matter the language, he could feel the tension rising in the air and the animosity growing towards him.

“Hé, d’où tu viens, l’ami?”

[Hey, where d’you come from, mate?]

M kept on drinking his beer silently.

“Hé, j’te cause….!”

[Hey, I’m talkin’ to you….!]

The French naval officer came closer and pulled M by the shoulder. 

“T’es Français ou non?”

[Are you French or not?]

M sighed and frowned. 

“No.” He answered.

“Alors casse-toi avant qu’on te casse la gueule.”

[Then fuck off out of here before we beat you up.]

M did not want to attract any attention but… His pint was still pretty full and he had paid with the last few doubloons he had. In other words, he didn’t have much to lose. He whistled and his owl flew inside the pub, landing next to his glass.

"Une chouette et un long fusil… Est-ce que c'est…?"

[An owl and the long gun… Is that…?]

One sailor pointed at M.

"C'est personne! J'en ai vu des gens qui se trimballent avec un hibou et un long fusil. Ils s’habillent comme une des Grand Neuf pour effrayer les gens!”

[It's no one! Countless people I've met with a pet owl and a long barrelled gun. They just dress up like one of the Great Nine to scare people away!]

“I’m not lookin’ for trouble. Just a beer close to the harbour.”

The people in the bar looked at each other, intrigued. A man with a pet owl and an odd long barrelled gun on his back…?

“Leave him be.” Another officer said from his chair in the corner of the room. He spoke in English with a similar accent than that of the governor. “He paid for his beer as much as you did, thus giving his money to a French landlord. If more of the English scum did the same, we wouldn’t need to hire pirates at each other to help us in this war.”

“J’en ai rien à foutre. Qu’il dégage ou je vais le renvoyer chez sa mère vite fait bien fait.”

[I don’t give a fuck. He should be out of this place, before I send him back to his mum quick.]

People turned to the man who was in the corner, the one who had defended the stranger, and he stood up. He walked to the one who wanted to pick up a fight and looked them straight in the eye.

“C’est toi que je vais renvoyer chez ta mère si tu ne la boucles pas.”

[It’s you I will send to your mother if you don’t shut it.]

He patted his own shoulder where the sewn pattern of his rank was and the feisty officer froze. 

“Oh, merde… Pardon, Monsieur!” He saluted him.

[Oh, shit… Sorry, Sir!]

M had ignored the whole conversation. He had asked for a bowl of water and Hootsy was now bathing in it. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned. The officer sat next to him. 

“Sorry for the inconvenience. I know you will join us on the governor’s ship tonight. My name is Capitaine de Belzyeux.”

M nodded in thanks.

“You the captain of the ship?”

“No, I will come as a guard with my squad.”

M nodded again.

“See you later.” The Frenchman said.

M finished his drink and the sun gently set in the distance, the sky turned from blue to pink and darker shades of violet in the distance. He looked at his owl and offered his hand to him. 

Tick, tack, tick, tack.

Hootsy’s claws clicked on the wooden counter and the feathery companion climbed on his master’s hand, wrapping his claws gently around his fingers. M put him on his shoulder and exited the tavern, heading for the docks. 

He walked along the ships, Hootsy flying above him until M located the governor’s ship. The sails were very distinct, his sigil was sewn there gigantically. 

Embarking wasn't an issue for M, the letter vouched for him. But once aboard of course, people kept on giving him odd looks. He was the only one not wearing a blue uniform. But as the Captain from the tavern was there, no one attempted more than whispers or looks. 

The ship departed from the harbour and was headed deep into the sea. The strip of land on the horizon shrunk to a line, and soon, nothing. The water was calm, one could only hear the occasional creaking of the wood on the ship, or the sails rolling, inflating under the soft wind before they deflated and let a gentle draft through. Orders were shouted left and right but soon, silence fell when the ship was sufficiently far from any land.

The night was deep and everywhere around the ship was an infinite sea, the ripples at the surface gently reflected the moonlight. Most of the crewmates withdrew to get some rest, leaving a few to keep watch.

“Mercenary?” M turned. The Captain from earlier came to him. “Follow me, please.”

M obeyed and went down the cargo hold of the ship, passing the crewmates' rustic beds.

“That’s where the gold is.” He pointed at crates. “Should things go pear-shaped, this is what my squad, me and you will die for.”

M’s eyes lingered on the crates. They were neatly arranged and piled up and he thought to himself that it was indeed a lot of it. Wherever that governor had got it all from was beyond him.

“As you see, there is only one way to get inside, through this door that I have led you through, and this entire level is below the crew’s level where some of my guards are posted. Whoever wants this will have to pass through three levels of the ship and even more levels of guns and guards to get here.”

“Thanks.” M nodded. 

“No problem.” Both exited the room and the Captain locked it again. M saw him slip the key in his pocket. “Now, I am not one to be enthused at the idea of working with a mercenary.”

Both men resurfaced on the deck. 

“Your kind are competition to the regular armed forces of any country. Besides, your presence here speaks at length of how much the governor trusts me and my men… But I suppose, with what  both you and I have seen down there, it is only fair to doubt the loyalty of men. Some would kill for much less.”

They walked along the deck.

“But contrary to a lot of your bunch that I have met through the years, you don’t seem arrogant about it and you don’t provoke my men, or the regular guards in general. Quite peculiar.”

M nodded without adding a word. The Captain stared at him for a second and decided to leave the man to his own peace.

M climbed up to the crow’s nest. He leaned to rest his forearms on the bar there and just calmly watched the starry sky. He took a deep breath. Yeah, that was his life, and one he wouldn’t exchange with anyone else for anything in the world. Out there, at sea, not having to follow anyone’s order, doing a job, getting paid and moving on to the next. No strings attached. 

Well, he sometimes wished he did have a few strings attached to something, to someone. M wasn’t getting any younger and the thought of coming back somewhere to a room with someone waiting for him tickled his insides warmly. But who? Who could accept to let him go periodically and perhaps not see him again? Because it was out of the way to stop being what he did best. After all, he was the best in his business for a reason and liked his job. It wasn’t always on the legal side of the line, but it paid enough and he wasn’t bothered too much about the causes or consequences of his contracts. Those were for other people to deal with, in their consciences. He was a means hired to an end. Some would argue he was doing the dirty work. In the eyes of the law? Yeah, very dirty sometimes. But for him? He was doing the exciting part, the part that in fact no one else could do.

His train of thought was broken by a sailor climbing up the crow’s nest. M let him come up and slid back down. His heels hit the floor with a wooden click. He went back to the edge of the deck and let the salty air gently lick his face.

“Capitaine! Pirates en vue! Nord-Ouest et en approche rapide!”

[Captain! Pirates! North-West and coming fast!]

The crew woke up fast at the jingle of the metal bell that resounded promptly after. M squinted in the direction announced by the sailor on the crow’s nest and yes, he could see it. A ship coming closer and closer.

Orders were shouted, sailors put all their efforts into trying to gain some speed but burdened as the ship was, they would never manage to avoid the confrontation. Some other sailors manned the cannons and got ready to fire. The racket of voices slashing the air, heavy cannons slowly rotated to get the right angle on their target as the rest of the crew took muskets and swords.

M whistled and Hootsy perched on his shoulder. He exchanged a few words with the bird before setting it free. M watched as the pirate ship got closer. He removed his gun from his back and loaded it to get ready. He took aim and was the first gunshot that anyone heard. All the eyes turned to him as he reloaded shot after shot. Sailors laughed at him. Taking shots from that far surely was a waste of ammunition. Thank God the man had a pouch with his own and wasn’t using the crew’s or they wouldn’t be laughing seeing his reloading and shooting relentlessly. The captain of the ship ignored the lunatic and went on shouting orders.

“Aux canons! Tenez-vous prêts!”

[Man the cannons! Get ready!]

The French Captain from the tavern took his spyglass out and took a look. His jaw dropped.

“Non!” He roared. “Ne tirez pas!”

[Don’t shoot!]

The sailors looked at each other, confused. 

“Ne tirez pas, leur canonniers ont été abattus!”

[Don’t shoot, the pirates manning the cannons are down!]

The official captain of the ship took a look and his jaw dropped. His eyes went straight to M  who was reloading with impressive speed and took another shot. Hootsy came back to his master and hooted to him a message that only M could understand. He raised his eyes to the French Captain from the tavern. 

“There are more, they’re hidden in the ship and will come out when they’re within boardin’ distance.” He simply said and took another shot that split the air before it split a skull, leaving a bullet hole cleaner than what any pirate had ever seen before.

The pirate ship was helped by the wind and soon it happened. The pirates boarded the official ship and swords slashed, clouds of smoke popped everywhere on the deck where gunshots slashed through the air. The battle raged but the pirates soon manned their cannons again and started taking shots on the regular ship. The water started to flow inside the ship and it slowly rose, more and more. Each loud boom was accompanied by the sound of the wood crunching under the impact of the heavy cannonball piercing through the hull mercilessly. As the water flowed in more and more, the sailors were soon overwhelmed and some abandoned the ship, others were shot dead or thrown overboard.

M was of course caught in the middle of the fight. He put his rifle on his back again and picked up a sword. A pirate ran to him but he fell limply to the floor before he reached him. M turned to a group rushing to him. There was a gunshot and the blood sprang from them, as they were sliced open, but by whom? M couldn’t tell. In the dead of night, it was hard to see even for him.

“Hoo!”

M turned again and this time his sword slashed with an opponent. Soon after, the ship was set ablaze by the pirates and the flames devoured the wood mercilessly. M defended himself  and managed to protect himself until he received a hit on the head and blacked out on the vision of hell; flames everywhere, and the smell of burning wood, ashes blown by the air.

When he gained consciousness again, He was tied in a cage like an animal and the French Captain from the tavern was there too, in another cage. M looked around. They were in the cargo hold of a ship, not their original one. And oh… His hat was gone, his braid of brown hair still laid on his shoulder.

“You’re finally awake? God bless you... “ The French Captain whispered. “We’re on the pirate ship and I’m afraid they didn’t make many more prisoners. It’s only you, me and a handful of others.” He nodded in the direction of a cage when other bruised men were tied up.

“Oi! They woke up down there!” A voice shouted in perfect English, which told M that it was one of the pirates. Soon after, a few of the scoundrels came in to examine their prisoners.

“What do we have here, eh? Frenchie, Frenchie, Frenchie and oh… You! We put you in a different cage cause you’re special. You’re not French.” The pirate captain had an impressively large, black hat with feathers as red as blood. He had a long, unkempt beard and dark eyes. The man was largely built too. “Who’re you, eh? Why’re the Frenchies keepin’ ya? Lucky charm? Well if you’re their lucky charm, we should toss you overboard, eh?”

The rest of the pirates cheered and laughed around him.

“Now, we found you with one hell of a weird gun.” 

One of the pirates brought M’s rifle forward.

“You’re the one who took my men down from the bloody Moon, yeah?”

M didn’t answer. His head hurt too much and he didn’t want to even raise his eyes to the pirate captain, who went on.

“Now, some of my men here are scared of you, that’s precisely why I want to keep you. It’ll teach them to not fear anyone. Whatever you are, you’re human and we can kill you any moment. Now, for the Frenchies…” He turned to the French Captain. “You’re the chief there, aren’t ya? Are those your men?” The pirate nodded to the third cage.

“What do you want from us?” The French captain bared his teeth.

“From you? I want to know what was on your ship and if there are more like it coming. It sank faster than an elephant!"

"I won't say anything to some scum like you."

"Well then," The pirate Captain turned to his men. "Get one out of the bird cage and shoot'em." 

M was still surfacing back to full conscience when the gunshot made his ears ring loudly. He winced and frowned, trying to catch as much force as he could. His mind was foggy but when he managed to open his eyes again, there were a few corpses on the ground. French sailors.

The French Captain couldn't do anything. 

"I told you! We were the only ship with this cargo!"

"Yeah but you didn't tell us what you were transporting. Another one!" 

Another gunshot and a body fell lifeless. 

"Gold! We were transporting gold but it was the entire stack of it! I swear!" The bloodshed was enough for the French official soldier. 

"Are you sure?" He gestured and another French sailor was executed. 

"I swear!" The French officer shouted, tears welling at his eyes. The pile of corpses was growing and the man's conscience was gnawing on him. 

"Alright then…" The pirate gestured and the French man's eyes snapped wide before his skull got pierced by a bullet and his body hit the floor limply. 

M leaned back and sighed.

"Out with the bodies, quick!" The captain of the pirates ordered and his crew got to work.

"And what should we do with this one?" One of them asked, pointing at M. 

"We keep him for now."

The bodies were dragged out and M was left alone in the dimly lit cargo hold. He fully woke up and started to move his wrists. Bugger, they were in iron handcuffs. He gritted his teeth and looked around him. That's when he noticed that his ankles were in cuffs too. 

Well, time to think of something… Hm… 

His eyes darted everywhere around him, as the boat gently bobbed left and right under the waves and the currents, when a smell tickled his nostrils. It was sweet, what was it? It wasn't sugar or honey, no, it was… It was… Vanilla? 

He frowned and looked around him but couldn't see anything that could smell of vanilla. It intrigued him and distracted him almost well enough that he hardly heard a metallic click. M moved his wrists. He was free? 

Tick, tack, tick, tack…

M thought it was Hootsy but out of the shadows a white cockatoo appeared and entered his cage, slipping between the bars. 

"Hey there, baby bird." M pushed the handcuffs away from his wrists and offered a hand to the bird who climbed on his fingers. He petted it. "D'you have any idea how I can make it out of here, eh?" 

The cockatoo raised his eyes to the man and nodded, bending his head down to enjoy more neck scratches.

"Sorry I don't have any treats for you. I used to have Hootsy's but they're meat. I doubt you'll like that." 

The bird nodded again before jumping down M's lap and curling there. The man cupped him to bring him warmth and petted it, staring at it on his lap.

"There, there…"

Click. 

M raised an eyebrow. The noise surprised him and as he raised his head to see in front of him, his eyes met with the silhouette of a man crouching in front of him, with a gloved finger on his lips. 

M didn't make a noise. 

"Good day, M." The stranger said low enough that the wood creaking almost covered his voice. "Now listen, I will get you out of here, but you need to follow my instructions closely." 

The voice had a French accent too, was that one of the sailors? Nah, none of them knew his name. 

"Do you understand me?" The stranger asked and M nodded. 

"Good." He unlocked the cage and freed M before gesturing to him to follow him. The white cockatoo flew to the stranger.

“Perle, reste avec le Monsieur, ma chérie.”

[Pearl, stay with the gentleman, my darling.]

The bird flew from his shoulder to M’s and both men walked as silently as possible. M grabbed his equipment from the floor nearby, he put his rifle on his back and his hat on his head. When they faced the stairs to go up one level, they saw a pirate standing guard. The stranger motioned M to wait, and he obeyed. He watched as the man dressed with a long dark coat and a hood on his head slithered behind the pirate, killed him in silence and dragged his body down and behind the stairs. When he emerged from there, he was dressed and looked absolutely like the man he had just killed. 

M's eyebrows jumped. How the hell did he dress up that fast? And the face? Was he the pirate's twin? 

They progressed up level by level. The stranger's abilities were like no others. M saw him stab the pirates in the back stealthily, one by one, putting a hand on their mouths to cover any noise they would make, before disguising as them and progressing further. Sometimes, he would even lure them with a conversation before striking. M would hide behind barrels or crates and watch his improvised ally until they made it to the upper deck. M realised that an entire day had passed since the boarding of the governor’s ship as it was already night again.

"Now, I will have to handcuff you again momentarily and take your equipment from you. Follow me and you will find your freedom."

M nodded and got his wrists back in a pair of cuffs. The stranger took his rifle and his hat that he put on his own head before pushing M outside. 

"Now, get outta there! Captain wants you out, whoever the fuck you are…" 

M's eyebrows jumped again. Where the hell was the French accent gone to? 

It didn't matter much because the acting fooled the remaining pirates who pitched in in the mocking of the unfortunate M, who played the stranger's game and walked on the deck. When he raised his eyes, he realised that the ship was actually stopped at some land. Where that was, M had no idea. But he needed to get far and away from these pirates right now. 

The stranger pushed him out of the ship with the tip of a sword poking his back and into the harbour. They walked and walked until they ended up in a narrow alleyway where the stranger resumed his normal attire with the dark cloak in a flash and uncuffed M. 

Hootsy came flying and landed on his master's shoulder.

"You must run and hide. Any minute now, they will realise that something is wrong." The stranger said.

M observed the man. His face was hidden under his hood and when the nearby street lamp light hit him right, he realised that he had some kind of scarf around his mouth and nose. Only his very light blue eyes flashed in the night. 

"But I don't suppose you have anywhere to stay here, do you?"

"I don't even know where we are." M answered.

"Back where you started. But I doubt the governor will be happy with you when he will know that you lost his gold. So you cannot hide with him."

M nodded and lowered his head. 

"Which is why I am offering you to follow me back to my house."

M's head jerked back up. That stranger was awfully generous… 

"Who're you?" 

"You know who I am and I know who you are too. The legends did not lie, you really have a pet owl and a very long barrelled gun." 

M could hear the smirk even if he couldn't see it. 

"Now, follow me, we shall go out of town." 

They walked through dark and poorly lit streets, stopping every so often to let a group of patrolling guards cross their paths and walk away. After what seemed like eternity, they walked out of town and had to walk on roads never taken before by man. M pushed the dense foliage to follow the stranger not by necessity anymore but out of curiosity. 

"Here we are." 

Hidden deep in the jungle was a white house. It wasn't as big as the governor's palace but it was more than reasonable in size for a wealthy family. 

“Hoo!”

The stranger knocked on his own door and a butler opened. 

"Bonsoir, Monsieur."

[Good evening, Sir.]

"Good evening, Alexandre. Please speak in English as our guest here is not familiar with our tongue. Come in, please, M."

M was taken aback. How did the stranger know his name?

He followed him inside to discover that the house was richly decorated. And M's suspicions as to who his host was were more and more confirmed. 

"I imagine you are quite hungry. Alexandre, please prepare some dinner for two, I will show our guest around." 

"Of course, Sir." 

"Follow me, M." 

"Hold on." 

Both stopped in the corridor. 

"How d'you know my name?"

The stranger pulled his hood down and M saw salt and pepper hair combed back into a slightly long mullet. The front grey lock nonetheless fell between his eyes. M’s eyes went down to his host's attire and he realised that under the cloak, he was dressed as posh as his manners and his house. 

"You may call me L." He simply answered with a smile that M finally saw as he removed the scarf in front of his mouth. 

A slightly hooked nose, slim face and silhouette overall, and very thin lips under a finely trimmed moustache, French style, with a goatee. 

"Now, follow me upstairs… Here are your quarters. Madeleine?" He shouted and a maid appeared. “S’il vous plaît, préparez un bain pour notre invité, il en a bien besoin.”

[Please prepare a bath for our guest, he could do with one.]

"Oui, Monsieur." She nodded and went on her way.

[Yes, Sir.]

“I shall leave you in the hands of Madeleine, M. See you for dinner.”

The expert hunter was so surprised that he didn’t know if he should thank the man or run away as fast as possible. 

“Monsieur?” Madeleine’s feminine and gentle voice cut M in his astonishment and grounded him back to Earth. “Veuillez me suivre.”

[Please follow me.]

“D’you speak any English?” He asked as Hootsy flew straight to the bed, between the pillows.

“Euh, je, non, je ne parle pas Anglais.” She blushed and lowered her head.

[Uh, I, no, I do not speak English.]

“It’s alright, just go ahead, I’ll follow.”

Communicating with Madeleine turned out to be easier than expected. Sign language helped greatly. She showed him his room and started preparing the bath. M stripped naked and slipped in before she came back to scrub him clean with - oh - a vanilla scented kind of soap.

“Voilà, Monsieur. Monsieur L vous attend pour dîner et vous trouverez de quoi vous habiller  sur votre lit.”

[Here we are, Sir. Mister L is waiting for your dinner and you will find what you need to dress up on your bed.]

M raised a curious eyebrow and Madeleine repeated herself with gestures, pointing fingers and miming actions.

“Ah, yeah, alright, I get it. Uh, merci.” He tried his best and Madeleine nodded with a wide grin on her face. She left the man alone in his bathroom to get out of the bath and go to the bedroom to get dressed. 

When he entered the bedroom, M found a few different options of clothing on the bed. He went for the most casual one. A white shirt, with quite wide and puffy sleeves, and a pair of dark trousers. He put them on and slipped some socks. Even slippers were provided. 

Hootsy flew to his shoulder as he went downstairs and stopped at the living room door, his hair still damp on his shoulders. 

“Ah, M, please join me.” L gestured to him and he entered the room. “Take a seat and join me, I hope you will enjoy your meal. What does your feathery companion enjoy?”

M took a seat and his eyes raised to comprehend everything that was on the table. Chicken, lamb, beef, salads, fruits, vegetables, potatoes…

“Meat.” M answered.

“Oh, come here, then.” L raised his finger and Hootsy flew to him. He fed it some lamb and petted his head. “I like birds, their freedom is inspiring.”

M was still tense. He did not want to stay for dinner with that man. Why was he still there? And dressed by him as well…?

“What d’you want from me?”

“A few answers and a bit of company. But first, please, you must be starving. Help yourself.”

M went for a chicken thigh. He grabbed the large knife and cut it in one confident slice before going at it.

“I presume you know who I am.” L said.

“Have my idea.”

“Pray share.”

M raised his eyes from his plate to Alexandre and Madeleine still standing not far. L turned to them and nodded. Both of them left.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?�� M said.

“And so are you. I am delighted to meet you, a master hunter and sharpest of all shooters. I saw you in action and it was quite a feat.”

“You’re not bad with your disguisin’ and backstabbin’ either.”

The concerto of cutlery on plate resumed. They exchanged gazes with each other, the tension was making the air electric. Should one trust the other? What were his ideas? His intentions? Should one just ask?

“Why did you get me out of there?”

“I heard that someone dressed like you was roaming the streets.”

“Who told you?”

“Perle.” The Frenchman said and his snow white bird flew to him. “She has eyes and ears everywhere. People don’t mind what they say where birds fly free. Too bad for them, and quite good for me. Tiens, ma belle.”

[Here, my pretty one.]

He fed her some nuts that were in a separate little bowl.

“What d’you want from me?” M asked.

“Nothing. Or rather, I want to suggest something.” L said, becoming slightly more serious. “You might wonder why I was on that pirate ship you got captured in.”

M nodded, his face still deep in his food.

“Well, I could have retired or stopped. As you can see, I live very comfortably and do not need to continue pirating, looting, stealing and such.”

“But?” M raised his lagoon blue eyes to his host and saw the shadow of a smirk on L’s lips.

“But I like it. I like the thrill of it, the tension, the energy and sometimes, the chaos even. On the deck of the governor’s ship, I was there, fighting too.”

“Saw you.”

L’s eyebrows jumped.

“Did you?”

“Never saw anyone fight swords with a short blade.”

“Swords are preposterous, large, inconvenient and at the other end of stealthy. I like to do what I need to do while hiding in plain sight, as you have noticed. If I can make my way without making any noise, then I will.”

“Yeah, saw that too, and never saw anyone like you before.”

The Frenchman’s smirk grew wider. 

“Likewise. The way that you took down those people manning the cannons was divine. If your gun had been silent, I would have had to sit down to breathe.”

M stopped chewing sharp. His irises darted left and right as the blush on his cheeks appeared. He cleared his throat and frowned, diving again in his plate.

“Workin’ on it actually.”

“Are you?” L cocked an eyebrow and M met his gaze for an instant.

“Still haven’t told me what you want from me.”

“Straight to the point, I like that.” L straightened his back on his chair. “Here is my proposition. I know you have nowhere to go and no one left. You cannot wave goodbye to that life of adrenaline either so I wonder, would you like to join me?”

M stopped eating.

“What do you mean, join you?” He asked.

“I regularly go and have fun on my own. My targets are dictated only by me.”

“Sounds… weird. Also, how d’you know things about me?”

“People think that my trade is seduction and disguises. Part of it is, yes, but I also possess means of gathering intelligence unlike you have ever seen.”

M cocked an eyebrow and leaned back on his chair.

“Meanin’?”

“Meaning that I know things, like I know that you were supposed to transport thirty-eigth crates of gold from the governor from here to another city up North where it would then be split up to be transported to France. But, as you are here and the gold twenty thousand fathoms below the sea, you had better either leave or pretend you are dead, at least for this governor.”

M sighed.

“My proposition is simple. We continue enjoying what we do best, but we don’t do it for the money or for fame. I would rather people ignored my existence and if I could, I would wipe out their memories like water washes footprints on the sand.”

M noticed the slight intensity in the man’s eyes.

“Did stuff you regret too, eh?” The Frenchman failed to hide his vexation. “It’s alright, we all do. I guess it’s why we don’t stop. We just always try again to make it right. But it doesn’t change.”

Silence fell.

“Get out of this house.”

“What?” M raised his head off his plate.

“I said. Get out of my house this instant.”

A few minutes later, the hunter was out with his hat, his rifle and his misery. And he still had the slippers on. He looked down and sighed. Well, at least he had a bite. And the food was really good too.

It was deep into the night now but M shouldn’t risk going to town and meeting with a patrol of guards. Surely the governor had learnt about the shipwreck, because if M had the time to make it back, then that news sure did too.

He walked around the impressive white house towards the sound of the waves and after pushing leaves left and right, he found the sand, not far. He removed the slippers, left them there before treading in the still warm sand. The grains flowed on his feet as they sank with each step. The wind was gentle and helped dry his hair as his shirt waved under the gentle draft.

M sat down and crossed his legs looking at the waves roll and the froth periodically slide up to him, before withdrawing again.

What he had said to L, it was unfortunately true. He wished he hadn’t killed that many men, he wished he hadn’t killed the first one, he wished he hadn’t brought that money to his parents, he wished he hadn’t lost them that day, as he thought he would keep them happy forever but ended up disappointing them beyond repair. Maybe he should have just stayed on the farm with them, he shouldn’t have gone and lied for the day on a ship, he shouldn’t. Maybe it was better to be stuck there, with them, find someone to settle with and have a gentle life rather than be here, as lonely as he could get, no family, no friends, no shelter other than the starry sky. Remorse was maybe worse than regret. 

M brushed the sand next to him until it was relatively flat. He then removed his shirt and folded it approximately, just so that it would be a square-ish mass of fabrics to use as a pillow. He lay down and stared at the now vertical front of the sea rolling to him and further away, repeatedly, tirelessly. 

While him? He was tired. He had had enough. He wished he could live like L. Big house, far from people, and his meals, always hot and ready. And the butler and the housemaid as well… I mean, that’s some kind of company, right? That’s a few people to come home to, isn’t it?

Mundy sighed.

Mundy, that was his name, the name that his parents had given him and that he had decided to bury along with them, all those years ago, on that day that his life had flipped. From farmer to pirate. From son to orphan. 

As the waves rolled and rolled, as his thoughts crept up on him and invaded him, he closed his eyes and let it all come to him. The regrets, the remorse, the feeling of being too big, taking too much space, being too visible, attracting too much unwanted attention. He wanted to be forgotten, just plainly forgotten. He wished he hadn’t been a burden for his parents, he wished he hadn’t brought that life of misery on himself. Yes, being a pirate had its moments of adrenaline rushes, of being absorbed into something that sucked all his mind and prevented him from looking back. But when he did, oh boy…

Vanilla. 

Mundy opened his eyes. He could smell it.

“I do apologise.”

Mundy sat up and looked next to him. L was sitting there, his elegantly clothed derrière planted on the sand, right next to Mundy’s.

"I should not have reacted the way I did. It was impulsive of me."

"It's fine." 

They let the wind and the waves speak for a while. 

"Lucien." 

"What?"

"My real name. It is Lucien." 

"You're really French." 

"A curse and a blessing, depending on who you ask." 

They chuckled and their eyes met. 

"Where are you from, M?"

"Mundy, and I'm from Australia."

"Oh… I have heard legends about that place."

"You ever been there?"

"Non, the seas never took me that far. I… I couldn't afford it."

"What, you always paid a ticket to travel?" Mundy chuckled. 

"Non, it is not a monetary cost I am talking about, but an emotional one." Lucien crossed his legs and lowered his head. "If only it was something as easy to obtain as money." 

"What was it?" 

"I suppose you had a family at some point? Before this whole 'becoming a legend of a pirate'?" 

"Yeah, my parents."

"No family of your own, wife, children?"

"Nah."

There was a second of silence. 

"What?" Mundy asked, looking at Lucien. 

"Why not?" 

"Why not what?" 

"Why didn't you have a family?" 

"Sheilas are odd. Never understood them."

"Do you prefer men?" 

"Yeah." 

"Fair enough." 

"What about you?" 

Lucien lay down on the sand, putting his hands below his head.

"I once was a father, and a husband." 

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"Really?"

"Oui." He chuckled with a distraught smile on his lips. "I had a son, Jérémy, and a wonderful wife."

"What happened?" Mundy lay down next to him and stared at the stars. 

"I thought I could keep them away from harm's way and live my life with both of my passions, piracy, and them. It turned out I had to make a choice, and before I could, God made that choice for me. I lost the only woman I ever had any interest in, and our dear beloved boy." 

"Oh… I'm sorry." 

Lucien took a deep breath and sighed. 

"There is nothing you or I can do about it, pirate legends or not. But thank you." 

Silence fell for a while, the waves still rolled and spilled a few metres away from their feet. 

"Have you ever met the others?" Mundy asked. 

"The rest of the Nine? Oui, I have. After I lost my family, I was set on travelling and… Dare I admit, I wanted to take the lives of the people who took theirs. So I sailed and ruthlessly killed, left and right. At some point, I even ignored what faction those poor souls were from, for each time I was facing someone, I could not stop that voice in me, saying that this one might be the one who killed them." 

"Gosh…”

“I travelled the world and met all of them. Remarkable people, some of them actually work together.”

“Do they?”

“Oui, Mikhail and Ludvig, the Mountain and the Healer work together. The Flame and the Hammer do too, how else would a ship be able to sail on oily flames if not for the Hammer’s ingenuity.”

“Did you talk to them?”

“Oui. I… I suggested an alliance between them and myself.”

“Did they accept?”

“What do you think?” Lucien answered. “I am here on this beach with you now.”

“Oh… So they didn’t.”

“Non indeed they did not. Looking back at it, I understand. My trade is very different from theirs. They face their enemies frontally while my methods require more subtlety. It would never have worked. And I am not getting younger.”

Mundy chuckled.

“What?”

“You’re not that old, eh? And from what I’ve seen you do today, you could go on for years.”

Lucien smiled. 

“I might. But I am… bothered by something.”

“What is it?”

“The solitude that this life condemned me in. I am restless and obsessed with the idea of some company.”

“I know a few places in town.” Mundy answered.

“I do not mean it in that way. If physical satisfaction was the only thing I was after, it would not be an issue, I would have any man or woman offer his favours to me in the snap of my fingers.”

“Man or woman?” Mundy repeated.

Their eyes met again.

“Oui.”

Mundy nodded to himself. 

“I am looking for…” Lucien started.

“For what?”

Lucien turned his head and Mundy imitated him. Their eyes met.

“For exactly what we are doing right now.” The Frenchman answered with a smile. “Some company, some meaningful discussions, an exchange of ideas, opinions, a few laughs, why not?”

“You can laugh?” Mundy teased and Lucien chuckled. 

“Believe me, I can, oui.”

“Still have to see it then.” Mundy smiled and it made the waves stop rolling for Lucien.

“Please, stay.” Lucien asked, almost whispering.

Mundy’s smile vanished and he looked away.

“I-I don’t know. Need to think about it.”

“Fine.” Lucien sighed. “I understand if you like your freedom better.”

“I don’t know.” Mundy repeated. “The bit you said about solitude. Makes a lot of sense.”

Lucien’s eyebrows jumped.

“What do you mean?” He asked, and Mundy took a deep breath.

“I’m… I’m tired too; not of what I’m doin’, I’m tired of bein’ alone. No one gets what it feels like. People say that it’s great and excitin’ and all but at the end of the day, it’s just you, and you don’t want people to know who you are and bother you, of course, but that just pushes you to be more alone and… sad.”

Lucien stared at the man lying on the sand next to him, his rough skin, his odd sideburns and his long, wavy hair, his naked chest too.

“You’re really lonely?” Mundy asked, looking him in the eye.

“Oui, I am. I… This conversation that we are having is… a priceless gift you are offering me. It is more than I had hoped to have with anyone.”

“C’mon, you have yer Alexander and Madeleine at home. You can talk to them and all, you’re not all that lonely.”

“Non, Mundy. Their company is very enjoyable, oui, but it does not fill the emptiness that you presently are with your presence and your words.”

Their eyes lingered on each other. 

“My words might seem strong to you but…”

“No.” Mundy blinked with both eyes. “I get it, I… I really do. The more you talk about it, the more I… Yeah… I uh… Yeah, I’ll stay, I think.”

Lucien’s eyes snapped wide and he rolled to his side.

"Are you sure? You may take your time thinking if you want.”

“No, I’m tired of waitin’. I’m tired of everythin’. Maybe this is what I need.”

The Frenchman smiled from ear to ear. 

“But hold on,” Mundy asked. “I don’t have any money to pay anythin’, like rent or food. I need to go and get some work.”

“It will not be necessary. This house is mine, I am not renting it, and I will be glad to cover all the costs myself.”

“It’s unfair.”

“Non, you just did not understand what I said.” Lucien propped his head on his hand, still lying on his side in the sand. “I will repeat myself but your company is priceless.”

They exchanged a smile.

“You barely know me. Maybe I’m hell to live with?” Mundy said.

“Non, you are not. You have been the dream housemate so far. We even had our first argument.” Lucien chuckled.

“Yeah, and you kicked me out the house already, I’m tellin’ you, I’m terrible.” Mundy rolled on his side too, facing the Frenchman, and his hair gently fell on his shoulders and on his naked chest.

“Maybe you are terrible, but you are the kind of terribleness that I look for.”

“Heh, thanks. I like it better when you’re like that.”

“Like what?”

“Not posh and arrogant, but you just say what you want.”

“Should I tell you what I want now?”

“Go ahead.”

Lucien looked down at the sand and timidly raised his eyes to Mundy again.

“I… I…” His jaw was petrified as his mind raced to find the proper way to express himself. His eyes darted on Mundy, everywhere, his face, his body, his hair.

“I’d like someone for the night too.” Mundy said, and Lucien exhaled the air that he failed to transform into words.

“Fine.” Lucien stood up and started walking back home. 

“Oi, wait.” Mundy jumped to his feet, his white shirt still crumpled in his hand.

“Oui?” The Frenchman stopped in the middle of the foliage, the distress still gnawing on him.

“Where are you goin’?”

“Well if you know a few places in town to find the company that you need, then I am only keeping you up and away from what you want. I shall go to sleep. I will tell Alexandre and Madeleine that this house is now yours too.”

“You idiot.” Mundy said and took the step that separated him from his former host, now housemate.

“Quoi?” Lucien failed to translate himself on the spur of the moment.

[What?]

“I don’t want to go to town or anythin’. I… I was meanin’ that maybe uh… I mean… I tend to get cold at night and uh… Hm.” Mundy frowned. “Y’know what? Forget it, it’s bloody ridiculous.”

“Non, please? What do you want?”

Mundy looked into Lucien’s light blue eyes only shimmering in the night.

“You asked me to stay with you, right?”

“Oui.”

“And it’s madness, right? I mean, we just met.”

“Yet we share more in common than I first thought, but oui.”

“Can I ask you somethin’ a bit… mad, too?”

“Pray do.”

Mundy dropped the shirt down and fiddled with his fingers awkwardly.

“Mundy…?”

“It’s a bit… weird. I mean, we just met - oh?” A gloved hand was warmly brushing Mundy’s cheek and he couldn’t help but close his eyes slowly and melt under the touch.

“Please.” Lucien insisted in a whisper.

And it gave him the courage, with his eyes nonetheless closed.

“Sleep with me tonight.” Mundy whispered with his hoarse voice and when he heard himself ask, he blushed and frowned, regretting it already. His hands hovered around the Frenchman’s waist.

“Avec plaisir.” Lucien pushed Mundy’s hands on his sides.

“What?” He opened his eyes and the sight of Lucien with half-lidded eyes made his guts melt further. And what a grin, how…?

“With pleasure.”

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy

[glassworkspiderlilies]

portrait of a lady

Genshin Impact | Lumine/Albedo | AO3 Summary: Three times Albedo draws Lumine, and the two times he doesn't. Notes: mr. albaedo...

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Dragonspine is only the beginning.

Albedo is well-informed about her by now, one would think, after running so many tests and observing her first-hand. But those were all in controlled scenarios of his own making, and so, he discovers, that outside of that, there is far more to Lumine, stranded Traveler of worlds.

Somewhat surprisingly, there are quite a few chances to see her out and about around Mondstadt. Albedo is, besides Chief Alchemist, also Captain of the Knights of Favonius’ Investigation Team—which means he too does his fair share of fieldwork, granting him opportunity to cross paths with her at unexpected moments.

But even so—the Traveler has her goals and he has his, and since Dragonspine, he spots her only in passing.

As such, in order to perform a separate study when he only sees her in such scattered moments, Albedo does the other thing that he does best besides alchemy and childcare—

He draws.

.

It is one thing to see her combat in a controlled situation, and another to see her fighting out in the wild. Even from the distance that he spots her, she is quite the sight. Lumine is strong; this he knows. But her movements are different when she’s in a trickier situation and does not have to account for the safety of another person. She is as vicious as she is elegant—relentless in her swordsmanship, flawless in her footwork.

It could be a dance, almost—and so too can he see that it is not one meant to be performed alone. The one who stands beside her can only be just as formidable—and of course it must be her missing brother, whom Albedo feels like he can picture despite never having met him. Still, she does what she must to make up for that lack of partner, and with one final array of slashes nearly too quick for the eye, the Ruin Guard falls. Lumine pockets the core of the monster before flipping her sword into the air, and it disappears to wherever it does.

She’s on her way again before Albedo thinks to call out to her, unwilling as he is to interrupt whatever mission she’s on without a particular reason.

Instead, he flips open his sketchbook. He has a very good memory, but he uses quick, broad strokes anyway to capture the basis of what he saw before a certain amount of detail is inevitably lost to the limits of brain capacity. He is in the middle of a field investigation with the command of other knights, so it won’t do to take too much time for something so completely unrelated.

That night though, he sits at his desk and refines the sketch. The sharp angles of her arm as she cuts through the Ruin Guard’s tough body, the fluidity of movement from one slash into the next, the flow of her hair as she whips her body around to dodge…

It is not perfect, but it is passable. There is only so much he can derive from such a short moment, without additional time with the model.

Still, it will do, until next time.

.

Miraculously, for all the dangerous maneuvers she tends to do, the Traveler’s flight license has yet to be revoked. She always falls just short of penalty, in a way that makes the Acting Grand Master’s lips pinch together and the Cavalry Captain grin in delight when they see her. Jean can only sigh and request for Lumine to simply be careful, to which the Traveler dips her head obediently and solemnly swears that she is, and would not let her flying jeopardize herself or the citizens’ safety.

There is something about the way she says that, so serious and matter of fact, that goes beyond simple confidence in one’s flight skills, and has the Knights questioning.

But they do not ask, nor can they really figure just what it is exactly they want to question.  

Albedo, of course, observes. She is so natural in the sky, the glider seeming like an extension of her body. She flew exceedingly well even after she’d been first gifted the glider, according to Amber, even when Stormterror’s winds had whipped her so suddenly into the air. Lumine has Barbatos’ blessing, it is true, even if not quite in the form of a Vision, but her skill does not feel owed to that. Jean, gifted with her Anemo Vision as she is, is not so remarkable in the skies; even Amber, three-time winner of Mondstadt’s Gliding Championship, does not quite have the particular easy grace that Lumine does.  

It is….baffling, this ever so slight yet just discernable difference that cannot quite be explained.

Albedo sees her sometimes out in the field, a large shadow overhead as she glides. On somewhat rare occasions she will accompany him while he experiments in the wild, and he watches with mild trepidation as she steps off the sides of cliffs so casually, unfurling her wings like an afterthought to retrieve an herb or some such thing down below.

Other times, she drops from such great heights that he can only marvel at the lack of fear.

He is painting below Starsnatch Cliff the first time this happens, suddenly hearing a soft call of Albedo! in the distance. It takes a minute to locate where it is coming from, and he squints to see the tiny figure of the Traveler atop Starsnatch’s tip, waving her arm. He waves back, but he cannot hear what else she is saying nor understand what she is gesturing at, and tilts his head in confusion. In another minute, she takes a running leap off of the cliff, gliding towards him. He watches as she soars, then takes out his sketchbook to capture her figure in the air. Albedo’s eyes follow her as she glides past him, and—ah, the band of hilichurls making their way towards him must have been what she was trying to warn him about.

But then—she drops suddenly, hurtling down with such speed that it is genuinely alarming, the wind whistling. Her sword manifests in her hand and she uses it to pinpoint her landing; she slams into the ground, the blade sinking into the sand before her knee does, her other leg bent and braced for support. The hilichurls are blown back from the resulting blast of power, and she’s up again in a flash, ready to fight.

Albedo blinks before adjusting his gloves, and joins her in the clean-up.

“Are you not afraid of falling?” he asks, immediately after the battle is over.

She turns to him with a faint smile, putting away her sword.

“Not when I mean to,” she responds. “Are you not afraid of surprise attacks, if you are so focused on your art?”

“I would not be Chief Alchemist or Captain of the Investigation Team if I could not handle such situations,” he replies politely, “Though I thank you for your concern, and assistance.”

She gives him an amused look.

“Are you hurt?” he queries, glancing at her knees, “That was…quite the landing.”

“It is not so bad with sand,” she shrugs, brushing off the grains that have stuck to her skin, “But I have gotten better at mitigating the damage.”

He raises an eyebrow, and her lip quirks up as she awaits his potential scolding. There are a few beats of silence between them before he sighs.

“I trust you know what you’re doing,” he relents, and her eyes grow more mirthful.

“As do you,” she says pointedly, and he holds out his hands in defeat.

They have a quick lunch—she splits her food with him despite his protests—and she’s off again, always busy.

Albedo stays behind until the sun begins to set, filling pages in his sketchbook, the image of her descent burned into his mind.

.

“You want a lesson on alchemy?”

He blinks at her in surprise as he lets her into his laboratory. She steps in carefully, looking around with interest and taking in its disorganization and clutter.

“This is not so different from Dragonspine, is it?” Lumine says, the corners of her eyes crinkling, and he coughs lightly in mild embarrassment. “And yes. Is it so surprising? Timaeus has been a great help, but I do not think it remiss to ask his teacher for guidance as I move on to craft more complicated things.”

“From what I hear, you are shaping up to be quite the alchemist yourself,” Albedo says, crossing his arms and putting a thumb to his chin in thought.

Both Timaeus and Sucrose, who had seen her craft in person before while he has not, had mentioned that she was taking to the process quite well.  

“You are exaggerating, surely. Perhaps it may seem that way when all one crafts is the occasional potion. But as I said, I find myself needing to make use of more complicated alchemy if I want to reinforce my weapons.”

Albedo hums, studying her. It is true that such a thing was one of his topics of particular interests for a time, hence her coming to him instead of Sucrose, who was far easier to find.

“Have you ever thought of becoming an alchemist, with this growing interest of yours?” he asks, motioning for her to come closer to his crafting table.

“Ah, Sir Kreideprinz, is two students not enough?” she teases lightly, “I’m afraid I haven’t the proper time to invest currently, as you must know. But I shall promise not to abuse any knowledge you are willing to impart upon me.”

It startles a laugh out of him—one, because it had not occurred to him that she would, and two, because what was considered misuse of the art was not always the same between alchemists.

“All knowledge is worth having,” he murmurs absently, and she glances at him out of the corner of her eye, but he says nothing further on the topic of potential misuse. “Alright, then. Look here…”

She is a good listener, despite the complexities of the process he outlines. They discuss the theory, and he shows her how to combine the pieces she’s brought to higher-level material. She watches with a nearly hawk-like keenness, and asks him to repeat the process a few more times before she attempts it herself.

It is all about trial and error, in the beginning, and so Albedo steps away and takes the back seat as he watches her work out the formulae and arrangement of materials on the table to achieve what she wants. He pays close attention to prevent any dangerous accidents, but also idly puts a pencil to paper while he observes her.

Her focus, the way she drags her fingers lightly over the symbols as she thinks, the purse of her lips as she works out what she needs to…yes, drawing her is never tiring.  

Eventually, she succeeds in her crafting, straightening out her back and smiling in quiet pride as she turns to show him the results. Under his further guidance, she uses her newly crafted materials to reinforce her sword, and they both look upon the end result with satisfaction.

“Good work,” he says, as she prepares to leave, “May this serve your well on your journey.”

She glances at the papers he had set aside before coming to assist her again, unable to see what is on them from this distance. Still, there is a knowing gleam in her eye.  

“And may that serve you well in your research,” she replies, with a slight raise of her eyebrow.

His lips twitch in amusement, but he does not respond.

.

As much as Albedo loves Klee, she is a boundless ball of energy, and he must admit that he is not always able to keep up with her. It is why there is a rotation of knights to look after her when Albedo is particularly busy and cannot be disturbed—and playing with Klee comes to be considered tantamount to a training regimen. Oftentimes the girl will have left a string of exhausted knights—especially recruits—in her wake when he finally comes out of his laboratory.

So it is odd that this time, when he comes out to take down his “Experiment in Progress” sign, that the halls are unusually quiet. The knights seem fairly undisturbed, and he does not even hear any distant telltale explosions to signal her presence.

“The Honorary Knight is watching Klee,” he hears Jean say, and Albedo turns around to see the Acting Grand Master smiling at him as she comes down the hall. “The last I saw them, they were in the courtyard.”

“I see,” Albedo says, inclining his head in thanks, and goes searching.

Jean had spoken truly; the two are still in the courtyard, sitting on the grass, and apparently weaving stalks of dandelions into garlands. Albedo is surprised to see Klee so focused on such an activity, when she usually prefers more active games.

“Hello,” he says, to draw their attention, and Klee perks up immediately, rushing over to hug him around the middle.

“Albedo! Are you all done now? Can we eat dinner early? Can Miss Lumi come? We played all day so I’m really hungry!”

Albedo pats her head and murmurs acknowledgement of her requests, his eyes crinkling as he looks over at Lumine.

“Jean had mentioned you were watching her,” he says, “Thank you. I hope you were able to convince her to leave the fish population at Starfell Lake intact.”

To his incredible surprise, Lumine’s cheeks turn faintly pink, and Klee begins to jump up and down, still holding onto him.

“Albedo, did you know? Miss Lumi is really good at fishing! She can catch them with just her bare hands! We brought lots back, so can you make Woodland Dream tonight, pleeeeeeeease?”

He blinks at Klee, then looks back at the Traveler, who avoids his gaze and steadily continues to weave dandelions together with careful precision.

“With her bare hands, you say?” he asks, and his sister uh-huhs enthusiastically.

“Oh! But I want to finish making these first! Albedo, do you want to make one too? Miss Lumi says that in some other worlds, flower crowns are a sign of appreciation!”

“Alright then,” he says, though Klee is already dragging him towards the spot she had temporarily abandoned.

He is quiet for a while, letting Klee and Lumine show him how to bend the stalks carefully and weave them tightly without breaking. But as he falls into the proper pattern, he is too curious to stay silent.

“…Where did you learn to catch fish with your bare hands?” he asks innocently, without looking up.

“…The fish population is intact enough that, given a little time, Starfell Lake will be full again,” Lumine says first instead, sensing the question he is not asking. “But—nowhere in particular. It is simply a matter of practice. It was a silly thing that Aether and I had challenged each other to do one day, and then contested one another for the most caught.”

Her tone grows a little quieter at the mention of her brother, her eyes more melancholy. Albedo glances at her, but before he can say anything, it is Klee who broaches the subject.

“What’s Mr. Aether like?” she asks cheerfully, and Lumine startles at the question. “You’re twins, right? Do you look exactly the same?”

Lumine blinks, her eyes growing thoughtful.

“No,” she says absently. “But we do look…very similar. His eyes are a little sharper, and his nose is a little more pointed. His hair is sort of like mine, but he could never the front to lie flat. Back when both of our hair was long…I braided his, but he liked it so much that he kept it. He cut mine for me, when I wanted a change.”

Albedo looks at her, noting what she says, trying to imagine her other half.

“Go on,” he encourages, and her eyes widen a little as she pauses, thinking about stories to share.

Haltingly, she tells them a little more about her brother. How he favored the hotter months over the cooler ones, how he liked acrobatics when they flew, how he preferred darker clothing over lighter ones. As she speaks, Albedo forms a clearer picture of Aether in his mind.

In the course of this, Klee ends up dozing against Albedo’s side, though she tries hard to stay awake.

“Ah, I tired her out,” Lumine says, her eyes crinkling.

“Quite the feat,” Albedo murmurs, patting Klee’s arm. “Ah, Klee. What about dinner?”

“Woodland….Dream…” she murmurs, and Lumine chuckles.

“It was all she could talk about, at the lake,” she says, reaching out to stroke the little girl’s hair tenderly. “I have high expectations.”

“It’s my specialty,” Albedo says easily, “So it should not disappoint. Ah—here, this is for you.”

He gives her the garland he had woven, as well as the finished one of the two Klee had been making, as Lumine was undoubtedly meant to be one of the recipients. Lumine blinks, taking the crowns gingerly.

“Appreciation, right?” Albedo says, and Lumine nods.

She puts both on her head, and then places the one she made carefully on Albedo’s.

“My gratitude, for dinner,” she tells him, and he smiles.

“Well, you will have to come home with us first,” he says as he picks Klee up, and she blinks a little in mild surprise before smiling back.

Albedo leads the way, and it is not long before Lumine falls into step beside him.

.

He is finishing up some sketches in the library when she climbs through the open window, startling him out of focus.

“Hello,” she greets amicably, sliding into the chair across from him.

“Hello,” he greets back, “That was quite the entrance.”

“It’s faster this way, sometimes,” she says, and he blinks at her, unable to formulate a response to say otherwise. “How many hours have you been here?”

He blinks again, working out the time via the position of the sun, peering out of the window.

“Four hours, perhaps?” he guesses, and Lumine hums, looking at the papers laid out in front of him, which are all various portraits of her.

“Will you finally tell me what this is about?” she asks, propping her elbows up and putting her chin in her hands.

He smiles.

“Nothing so mysterious,” he says, gathering some of the drawings closer to glance at for reference, “I have said before you make a fascinating study, have I not? But I suppose I did want to try something.”

She raises an eyebrow in question, but Albedo signals for her to wait a moment as he makes some minor adjustments to the piece he is working on at present, which is tilted towards him against the edge of the table and thus out of her sight.

“Alright, then,” he says after a while, “Here—all of these are for you.”

He places this last finished piece on top of the small stack resting on the seat of the chair next to him, then hands the whole thing over, and she takes the little pile with open curiosity.

Her expression changes to shock when she looks down at the first drawing.

“…Aether,” she whispers wonderingly, her hand hovering over the portrait as if she is afraid this too will disappear in front of her.

“You paint quite a vibrant picture when you speak of him,” Albedo explains, “So I thought I would try my hand at actually putting him to picture. I am sure there are inaccuracies, but…tell me, how did I do?”

She is silent as she goes through the others—some quick sketches, some more detailed renderings, some smudged with color, and even a couple of full paintings. Her eyes grow wet as she looks through each page, pausing here and there to trace the lines with her fingers, or to relax her grip so she does not crinkle the paper overmuch.

“Near perfect,” she finally says, very quietly, as she looks at him. “Albedo, this is….remarkable. I feared…forgetting small things about him, with the time that had passed. Thank you.”

He is not sure what to say now that she is teary, so he coughs a little and pushes the sketches of herself towards her, as well.

“You are very welcome. I confess I may have given him some of your mannerisms, for lack of other reference. But when you fight, there is a space for him, and I can guess how he might compliment your movements as you must complement his. Of course, as I have never met him, I did take some liberties…”

He trails off when she looks at him again after studying her portraits, her gaze a little more intense.

“You…must have been studying me quite closely, to produce these,” she says, tone deceptively mild.

“Ah—my apologies, I suppose it was presumptuous of me,” he says, worried about losing her regard, “I—sketch people around Mondstadt so often, they have grown used to seeing me do so. But I should have asked your permission.”

“Oh—that is not what I mean,” she reassures him, tilting her head, “I just hadn’t realized you were paying quite so much attention to me. I would have sat for you, if you asked.”

His eyes crinkle at the suggestion; she bore his constant tests with great patience up in Dragonspine where others would not have so readily, and here she is still willing to do additional favors for his whims.

“I appreciate the offer, but it was not such a…staged manner that I was after. I enjoyed seeing you simply going about your activities.”

She hums, gentling putting down the stack of drawings before leaning back in her seat a little.  

“And now?” she asks, and he blinks at her, confused at her meaning. “Is this moment also something you are looking to draw?”

He stares at her, taking in her profile in this moment, a curious feeling creeping over him as he observes her. The quiet intensity of her gaze, the faint smile curving her lips, the weight of some sort of expectation in the air…

“I…suppose I could, but as I mentioned, I was hoping for something other than a controlled environment,” he demurs hesitantly.

“Ah, so you believe this a controlled environment?”

He pauses again, taken aback, and as if to purposely disprove his implication, a strong gust of wind rushes through the open window. The papers on the table rustle loudly, startling the both of them, and the two instinctively surge from their seats, lunging across the table in half-panic and slamming their hands down to prevent the sketches from flying away.

“Oh no—have we creased them?”

“No, they are fine, I believe.”

They look up then, realizing how close they have come to each other.

A few heartbeats of silence pass.

“…Do me a favor, if you please,” Lumine says quietly, as they try and sweep the papers back together. There is a balance hanging between them that has not yet broken while they do so. “Keep these portraits of me. If you…come across my brother, please give them to him.”

“I will keep them safe,” Albedo says, narrowly missing grazing her fingers as he lays another sketch onto the pile, “It is no trouble.”

She smiles faintly.

“I should hope not,” she murmurs. “I shall…entrust myself to you.”

She means the drawings, he knows, and yet there is a slight unguarded lilt to her voice, and he does not miss the double meaning.

There is a question here, an offering, if he chooses to accept it.

At this distance, they can see each other’s eyelashes; one slight movement and they could be touching. The delicacy of the moment is suspended as they stare at each other—Albedo’s blue, blue eyes are wide and searching, Lumine’s pink lips slightly parted. The gauzy white curtains are billowed upwards by the wind again, fluttering over them like a veil, hiding them from direct view.

A soft murmur, a gentle brush of cheeks, a warm puff of breath.

…Do you trust me, Albedo?

…Yes.

Their silhouettes slowly drift closer.  

#genshin impact #genshin impact fic #genshin lumine #genshin albedo #genshin traveler #kreideprinz #fanfiction #man these tags feel so repetitive #me both times i've written albelumi: why is the characterization like this #they do what they want huh

[rosesnvines]

Scary Stories

It was a lovely autumn night around a fire, the group, a blend of Vikings and Scots, were swapping scary stories. Gobber was particularly engaging in his story about the Boneknapper dragon. 

“So there I was, all alone, stranded on an island full of bones. I had heard of the Boneknapper, but had never seen one before. Was I to be next in its hunt for the perfect bone to finish its armor? But I couldn’t hide forever, I had to get off that island. So, with only a torch and my broom, I set out to find some means of escape. Little did I know I was being watched.” His audience gasped. 

Eret leaned towards Hiccup. “This is way better than the stories he told us about the Boneknapper.” 

Astrid snorted. “Guess reality is stranger than fiction.” 

“Sh,” said Hiccup. “Let him finish. If they like it, all the better.” He nodded at the Scots. One Scot in particular, the princess no less, seemed really intent on the story, listening with interest. She had been interested in hearing all about the dragons, asking a lot of questions. Her curiosity impressed, and interested, Hiccup. He hadn’t met someone so eager to learn, not since Fishlegs, nor someone so eager to get her own dragon. Her fiery red curls cascaded past her shoulders, looking wild and free, while her blue eyes reminded Hiccup of the big blue sky. He wished she would look his way, just once. He was feeling a little lonely with Eret and Astrid getting all cuddly next to him. But her attention was on Gobber. 

“So I searched all night long, hoping to find some way of escape, but all I could find were bones. Can’t put to sea in a boat of bones, trust me, I actually tried it.” 

“Of course you did,” mumbled Snotlout. 

“Sh!” said Hiccup and Valka at the same time. Snotlout put up his hands and grinned nervously. 

“So I had to come up with a different plan, I decided to try and use the Boneknapper itself to fly me off the island. But, how could I do that without becoming another bone on its armor?” The youngest members of the Scottish group, the triplet brothers of Merida, gasped and leaned in, excited to hear what came next. “So I went and found myself the largest pile of bones I could and waited. The Boneknapper finally came, all skeletal and silent.” He paused, wriggling his fingers. His audience gasped. “He didn’t notice me as he went digging through the bones, so I took my chance and found a spot to hang on to.” Gobber chuckled. “Guess I should have worried too too much, that Boneknapper had a couple of blind spots, and I had found one of them.” 

“But, how did you know it was its blind spot?” asked a Scotsman. Hiccup knows it was one of the three young lords who was seeking the princess’s hand, but he couldn’t remember which one. Their names all began with young, Young MacIntosh, Young McGuffin, and, oh yeah, it was actually Wee Dingwall. Ruffnut was flirting with Young MacIntosh, who was enjoying the attention. 

“Well, for one thing, I was able to ride it off the island without it noticing me. And for another, I saw the remains of a guy who apparently tried the same tactic, and failed.” The group gasped. 

“Well,” said Chief Fergus, rising from his seat. “No offence, but that wasn’t quite scary.” 

Gobber huffed. “Then care to share something that’s scarier than a Boneknapper?” 

“Oh, yes, my children will know this story by heart. The story of the demon bear, Mordu.” The triplets gasped and dashed behind Merida and their mother, but they peeked out from behind Merida’s and Elinor’s backs with huge grins. “The legend goes that Mordu wanted to rule over all of Scotland, and went to war with his brothers and the other clan chiefs. But Mordu became rather blood-thirsty. If anyone so much as dared to say anything against him, even as a joke, he would have them killed. His own men began to turn on him. He hid to bide his time. A witch gave him a potion as a way to put a stop to his blood-lust, and he turned into a bear. I mean, you would think that since a bear eats honey, fish, and berries that would work, right? But no, the plan backfired, and Mordu used his bear strength to kill many of his men. His brothers managed to banish him, to never be allowed back in the castle. Now Mordu roams the woods at night, seeking for another victim to kill in his maddening desire to rule all of Scotland.” 

“Th-these w-woods?” asked Fishlegs, a squeak coming out at the end of his sentence. 

“Aye,” said Fergus with a nod. He walked around the circle. “And there’s a way to call for him too, should you ever want to meet him. Just simply call out, ‘Mordu, Mordu, I’ve found a traitor for you’. And then Mordu will come up behind you and RAWR!” Fergus let out a loud roar right behind Fishlegs. Everyone jumped and screamed. Fergus burst out laughing, followed by the other clan chiefs. Merida was giggling. 

“Ok, Ok, that was pretty good,” said Hiccup, chuckling nervously. 

The triplets nearly fell over laughing while Merida pointed at them. “You should have seen your faces!” 

“Yeah, Ok, ha ha, yeah,” said Hiccup. 

“How do you guys come up with stories like this?” asked Valka. The Scots stopped laughing and became dead serious. 

“Oh lass, Mordu’s real.” Fergus propped his peg leg on one of the logs. “It’s how I got this beauty. I fought Mordu myself. I barely made it out with my life!” 

Merida bobbed her head. “It was pretty scary.” 

“It was, and I’d rather you not try something so foolish again,” said Elinor. 

“What? I was only protecting you and Merida, my dear.” 

“W-wait, M-Mordu’s r-real?” whimpered Fishlegs. 

“As real as your own dragons,” said Fergus. 

Hiccup stood up and chuckled nervously. “Well, since we do have our dragons, we should be perfectly safe. And it looks like that fire needs some more wood. I’m going to go get some.” 

“But, Hiccup! Mordu’s out there!” said Fishlegs. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll have Toothless with me.” Hiccup turned to his dragon. “Right bud?” Toothless nodded. 

Fergus chuckled. “I think getting lost should be your biggest worry rather than Mordu. We haven’t seen him in years.” He turned to his daughter. “Merida, why don’t you go with the lad?” 

“Oh no, there’s no need to . . .”

Merida bounced up, chuckling softly. “Oh, you wee lamb, you’ll definitely get lost. Come on.” She walked past the stuttering Hiccup. 

Hiccup sighed. “Oh fine.” Even though, deep down, he was glad it was her. The three walked deep into the forest. There was a thick silence, Hiccup thought it was so thick that it would suffocate him. They began picking up a few sticks before Hiccup decided to try and break the silence. “So, um, ah, Mordu is real, huh? You and your mother saw him?” 

“As clear as I see you and your dragon right now,” replied Merida. 

“You really think your dad scared him off?” 

“I certainly hope so, I mean, we haven’t seen him in years. Dad’s the Bear King now because of it.” 

“Right, all the bears on your flags and whatnot.” 

“And you’re the Dragon Master, hence why all the dragons on your flags and whatnot,” said Merida with a smirk. 

Hiccup chuckled. “Yeah, that’s right.” A moment of silence. “So, um, have you, have you decided on which of the clan heirs you’re going to marry?” 

“Well, I don’t think it’s going to be Young MacIntosh, you can thank your friend for that.” 

Hiccup ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh, sorry about that.” 

“Don’t be, I really want you to thank her.” 

“Oh, oh!” said Hiccup, suddenly realizing what Merida was getting at. She didn’t quite like the Young MacIntosh. “So, what about Young McGuffin and Wee Dingwall?” 

“Hmm,” said Merida, wrinkling her nose, “if I really had to choose, I guess Young McGuffin. Wee Dingwall’s really not my type. He’s a nice lad, but I don’t love him.” 

“But you don’t exactly love Young McGuffin either.” 

“Mm, no, not really.” Merida huffed. “But I could I guess.” 

“What would happen if someone else came in?” 

Merida glanced at Hiccup, blinking in confusion. “Someone else?” 

“Yeah, you know, what if, um, someone else presented himself as a suitor?” 

“Well, it would depend on who that is, there’s really no one else around our age.” 

Him squeezed his eyes shut. “Me, Merida, I’m talking about me.” He opened his eyes, Merida had turned to look at him in shock. 

“Y-you’re presenting yourself as a suitor?” 

“Y-yeah, why not? I’m a chief’s son, well, I am the chief now, but I’m just as good as any of the others. W-well, I mean, I’m not as good-looking as Young MacIntosh, or as Scottish as Wee Dingwall, or, or as interesting as Young McGuffin . . .” 

“Yes!” 

Hiccup blinked. “Wait, what?” 

“I said yes, you silly Viking! Yes!” 

“W-wait, really?” 

“I’m not going to repeat myself, Hiccup.” 

Hiccup chuckled nervously. “Sorry, I was just so worried that you were going to say no that . . . um, what’s that?” Merida turned as Toothless edged closer towards them, a soft growling emanating from his throat. A little blue light had appeared, it looked like a face was in it. 

Merida gasped. “Why, that’s a will o’ wisp! Legends say they can lead you to your destiny!” 

“Oh, Ok, this really seems like a spooky night now. Tales of skeleton dragons and demon bears, and now ghostly lights? Is there anything else that’s scary you Scots are hiding from us?” Merida shot him a look before walking closer towards the will o’ wisp. As soon as she got close enough to touch it, it disappeared with a soft sigh before a whole line of them appeared. Hiccup grabbed Merida’s arm before she took another step. “You’re sure you want to follow them?” he asked. 

“Why not? There must be something we need to find,” said Merida with a shrug. 

“But we really should be heading back to the camp. Can’t we follow them another time?” The closest wisp seemed to urge them forward. The others behind it frantically echoed its movements. 

“No, we should follow, I think something’s wrong.” 

“Yeah, we’re following a bunch of ghost lights,” muttered Hiccup. 

Merida groaned and grabbed his hand. “Come on.” They followed the will o’ wisps for a few feet before they stopped. 

“Ok, now what?” asked Hiccup. They were standing in a small clearing between the trees. Merida stepped closer, noticing something on a branch. 

“Ach, what is this? I can barely . . .” She jumped as something ignited behind her and a warm glow filled the grove. She turned, Hiccup had ignited his sword. He grinned sheepishly at her. “Oh, uh, thanks.” 

“No problem.” 

She turned back to the thing on the branch and plucked it off. She scrutinized it in the light of Hiccup’s sword. She gasped. “This is bear fur.” 

Hiccup peered at the dark fur. “How can you tell?” 

“I’ve played enough with my dad’s fur coat to know how bear fur feels and looks.” 

Hiccup blinked. “Ok, so we’ve found what used to be a resting spot for a bear.” 

“But why isn’t it here? Bears sleep at night too. Unless . . . unless it’s Mordu!” 

Hiccup flailed his left hand, the one not holding the flaming sword. “Hold on, hold on, you can’t just expect me to believe that you find some bear fur and think it’s this demon bear?” 

“But the will o’ wisps? They had to have brought us here, to warn us!” Merida grabbed Hiccup’s hand and began pulling him towards the camp. “Come one, we have to warn the others!” 

“But how can you be so sure that, that . . .” Hiccup gulped as a large form rose from the shadows, right in front of them. “That’s him, isn’t it?” The bear had broken arrows and weapon hilts sticking out of its fur and scars all over its body. One eye was white. It certainly looked like a demon bear. 

“Y-yup,” said Merida. The bear roared. The two screamed. “Run!” Merida pulled Hiccup through the woods, the two dashing back towards the camp. The bear was hot on their heels.

“Aah! Toothless!” Toothless let out a roar and rammed into Mordu. Merida and Hiccup kept on running. 

“What took you so long? And where’s the firewood?” asked Fergus when the two burst into the camp. 

“Mordu! We saw . . . Mordu!” Merida said between gasps of air. 

“What?” the group cried out. 

Fergus quickly picked up his sword. “Where is he?” 

“Toothless is fighting him!” said Hiccup. At that moment, Toothless crashed into the camp, snarling. He quickly righted himself. Mordu stepped into the fire’s glow, the light danced maniacally on his face as he roared, his one good eye turned red. Toothless roared in reply, staying between Mordu and the group. 

“Everybody, back to the castle!” shouted Fergus. Everyone ran pell mell out of the clearing, screaming, towards the castle. Fergus pushed Merida and Hiccup towards that way when they didn’t move. “You heard me, move!” 

“I’m not leaving Toothless!” shouted Hiccup. 

“He stands a better chance against that bear than the rest of us!”

“He stands a better chance if he’s not alone!” retorted Hiccup. He swung his fiery sword. “And no offence, Chief Fergus, but Mordu hasn’t dealt with a fiery sword yet.” 

“I’d rather you not try your luck, lad.”  

“It hasn’t failed me yet,” said Hiccup, walking towards Toothless. 

“Hiccup!” called out Merida. Mordu glanced at Merida and Fergus before glancing at Hiccup. 

Hiccup blinked. “Uh, what’s with that look?” Mordu growled before charging at Hiccup. 

“Hiccup!” screamed Merida. Hiccup yelled and swung his sword, the flames singeing the bear’s fur. The bear took a step back then charged again, this time Toothless jumped him. The two rolled around the clearing, snarling at each other all while clawing and biting at each other. Mordu swung at Toothless, sending him rolling on the ground. Mordu turned towards Hiccup and charged again. Fergus shouted a war cry before charging Mordu. Merida let loose a couple of arrows, but the bear didn’t seem to notice. Fergus’s sword broke upon impact. 

“Is there nothing that can take him down?” asked Hiccup. 

“Well your sword didn’t seem to have a problem,” said Merida, dashing to stand by Hiccup before letting loose a couple more arrows. 

“But he didn’t have a problem with it either!” said Hiccup as Fergus joined them while Toothless and Mordu locked in fierce battle again. 

“Why don’t you have your dragon shoot him with a fireball?” asked Fergus. 

“And risk burning down the whole forest?” 

“Oh, right,” mumbled Fergus, glancing around at the wildfire just waiting to happen. 

“Well we need to do something soon!” said Merida. A roar answered. 

Hiccup glanced up and whooped. “Mom! Cloudjumper!” Valka and her large dragon descended on the dueling animals. Cloudjumpeer picked up Mordu. Toothless untangled himself from the bear’s claws and fell to the ground. He quickly righted himself. “Actually, I think now is a good time. Toothless, fire!” Toothless opened his mouth and shot a fireball straight into Mordu’s chest. The bear seemed to shiver and went limp. There was a moment of anxious silence as they waited to see if the bear would move again. He didn’t. “Mom, drop him!” Toothless quickly moved out of the way as Cloudjumper let go of the bear. It hit the ground with a huge thump. Hiccup stepped cautiously towards the mound of fur. 

“Careful, lad,” warned Fergus. Merida raised her bow. Hiccup touched the bear, but a blue light left the form. 

“Why, that’s a will o’ wisp!” whispered Merida. The light revealed the face of a man. He nodded before it faded away. 

“I, I think that was Mordu when he was a man,” said Hiccup, turning to Fergus and Merida. 

“I think so too,” said Fergus. “But you do know what this means, right?” 

“What?” asked Hiccup slowly. 

“A party! You and your dragon defeated the demon bear!” shouted Fergus, picking up Hiccup and swinging him around. He put Hiccup down and began walking back to the castle. “This is going to be one awesome alliance!” 

“Good to know!” shouted Valka with a chuckle before following on Cloudjumper.

Hiccup shook his head. “Whoa, wow, glad we made such a good impression.” 

 “Well, there’s only been one other person who faced Mordu and survived, and that was my dad. You’re quite the hero.” 

Hiccup ran his fingers through his hair. “Uh, yeah, great, um . . .” 

Merida chuckled before kissing his cheek. “It will certainly give you quite the leg up on the other suitors.” 

Hiccup blushed. “Well, that’s good to know.” Toothless chortled. “Oh be quiet, you useless reptile.” 

Merida laughed as she wrapped her arm around Hiccup’s. “Come on. Can’t have the hero’s party without the hero. And you can announce your intention to be one of my suitors then too. Best time to do it.” 

“Oh good to know,” said Hiccup as they walked back to the castle, Toothless walking behind them, feeling quite proud of himself.

#mericcup #brave #httyd2 #how to train your dragon 2 #fanfic #mericcupmonth

[yamithediaperdork]

Harry potter and the set of trigger words part 1 (..harry potter...duh.)

A odd fact not known to many, as it turned out your normal run of the mill wizard was actually quite easier to put under trance and implant key words even with only a basic knowledge of hypnotism.  This would be a fact Harry discovered to his delight having gotten interested in it over the course of a summer and trying it out for fun on the train ride to Hogwarts. Of course with him using it on his friend the triggers were just harmless ones, like every time Ron would hear a five sharp knocks on a door he'd bark like a dog, Or Hermione becoming a stereotype ditz if she was offered bubble gum till the flavor ran out. He also quickly removed said trigger once they got to the school and erased the memory of the act of them ever being in place. However, encouraged by the success of his little experiment, Harry would slowly work his way up with more and more amusing/twisted triggers on students he wasn't all that fond of till he came up with the perfect set for one blond haired prat: Draco Malfoy. Getting the blond twat monkey alone to work his mojo hadn't of been easy, but once it was done and Harry had removed the memory of the triggers even being place, it was time to sit back and have some fun.  Still Harry tried to at least be semi fair about it, and promised himself to only use his new found powers if Draco was being a true and utter pain in the backside. which, again, this was Draco we were talking about, only took all of a day from the planting.

"ugh, did somebody cut the cheese?" Draco asked, walking into the dinning area and moving pass Harry, Ron and Hermione. He paused and then leaned down, taking a over the top sniff of Ron and then held his nose. "oh guess not, it's just a weasley!" He said and laughed, prompting his two loyal thugs to laugh with him even if the dim look on their faces meant they didn't get the joke. "really? reduced to making fart jokes Draco?" Hermione asked and rolled her eyes, moving in a bit closer to Ron and then wrinkling her own nose. the red head had skipped a shower after practice that day and well, did smell a bit ripe. "Ha! See? even you think he stinks!" Draco crowed and hooted with laughter. "You know Draco, it's not nice to tease others. Ron will smell fine once he gets a shower in but YOU'LL always just be a 'dirty boy'" Harry said, sipping some pumpkin juice and smirking. "Really? thats the best..you..got..?" Draco scoffed back but suddenly he felt weird and found himself starting to pop a squat. "ah..what are you doing?" Crab asked. Draco went to answer with his mouth, but a blast of ass gas from his rear handled the reply for him and then as his thugs looked on in disbelief and Hermione and Ron and Harry looked on with amusement, the back of Draco's jeans started to puff out as a horrid stench filled the area. "Is he crapping himself?" Ron asked, laughing and pinching his nose shut. "N-No! I'm not a stinky baby pants pooper!" Draco whined and then even as he was clearly fighting himself, he popped his thumb into his mouth and started to suckle on it as he kept destroying the seat of his pants. "I guess Draco's jealous of Ron's stink and wants to top it~ 'Isn't that right baby Draco?'" Harry asked. Hermione was moving back to the other side of the table where the air was a little fresher but had to turn and watch in amusement as now only did the teary eyed blond nod his head up and down, helpless to refuse the command but he also lisped around his thumb making drool run down. "Yesh 'arry. Ous wight." Draco whimpered and as he finished with the back of his pants, he closed his eyes and relaxed his bladder soaking the front. "Gah watch it!" Ron cried up, jumping up on the table before the smelly puddle the blond was making could reach him. Crab and Goyle had like wise stepped back away from Draco in part to avoid the puddle and the smell and to avoid being seen as besties with the pants pooping dork. Harry had been about to unleash his next command but instead decided to call off the torment for the moment as a certain raven haired potions master was storming towards Draco and did NOT look pleased. "Head's up stinky boy, your uncles coming." Harry advised and leaned back, casually munching on a slice of pie. 'dinner and a show..never a dull moment at Hogwarts.' he thought. Sadly it wasn't much of a show as Snape just wordlessly took Draco by the ear and led him off, taking the time to turn around and use a spell to clean up the mess the blond had left behind. "heh, I'd like to be a fly on the wall for that conversation." Ron mused. "Which the smell coming off of him flies wouldn't look out of place either." Hermione giggled, and that set them all off laughing.

it wasn't till they were in the relative quiet of the dorm room (a glare from Snape had sent the few slytherin's who had been sitting in the common room scampering off) That Snape finally spoke up to the blushing and ashamed Draco. "I thought you were done with this childish behavior after we had that talk during the summer young man." Snape said. "I..I wasn't doing it on purpose! Someone muse of cursed me or something!" Draco whined pathetically. this couldn't of been worse for the blond, his body just betraying him like that after that summer while Uncle Snape had been visiting he'd caught Draco purposely soiling himself and bouncing in it! "Considering you've been with your friends all day and no one took out a wand in the dinning room, I think that's highly unlikely." Snape said dryly. "Do you remember what I told you before?" Draco started to full on bawl and rub at his eyes, which combined with his soiled garments made him look like a over sized toddler. "T-That if you caught me messing m-myself like a little boy again y-you'd dress me to fit the role.." Draco sobbed. "Please! I'm telling you, it wasn't on purpose! give me anther chance!!" "It's against my better judgement to do so..but I also don't wanna be the uncle of the only nappy lad waddling around the school. there will be NO more chances though young man, do I make myself clear?" Snape asked. If Draco hadn't of already let all of his wee out in the dinning room, he would of soaked his pants here at the tone of his uncles voice and hiccuped and nodded. "Oh for heavens sake.." Snape sighed and waved his wand, a oversized green soother popping into Draco's mouth and the poor lad found himself forced to suckle on it. he couldn't even seem to tug it out of his mouth and whimpered and pointed at it, looking at his Uncle. "It'll come out once you get cleaned up. and after you're clean, strait to bed. no supper for pants pooper's." Snape said and then walked over, leaving the confused and ashamed boy the less then pleasant task of cleaning up. 'I just know Potters behind this somehow..' Draco thought and due to the heavy load in his seat, he was forced to waddle to the bathroom to clean up. the only saving grace of everything was that Draco was so tiny downstairs his uncle had never been able to notice that despite how ashamed and humiliated he was, Draco was rock hard.

word of Draco's accident spread like wild fire though the school and even though the teachers tried to encourage a forgive and forget policy Draco had simply made too many enemies in the school and was forced to endure multiple taunts, and worse, well meaning teachers calling him up to their desks several times a class and asking if he needed to use the rest room. the consent teasing had a effect of making Draco keep his fat mouth shut for a change and true to his earlier self promise Harry left him alone, though lord knows he longed to test the rumor he'd heard that Snape was prepared to put Draco back in nappies should he have anther accident.

At dinner that evening Harry noticed that Draco was sitting alone, other students had bunched in together as close as possible just to avoid being near him 'in case he went off' again. Feeling a tiny bit of guilt Harry, after clearing it with Ron and Hermione, got up to go and invite the poor git to sit with them. Draco was munching slowly on a piece of bread, resting his head on a fist and staring off with a million mile stare when Harry got his attention. "Hey Draco, I wa-" Harry started but was cut off as Draco yelped and jumped, snapped out of his daze. this got more laughs from the other students and Draco fumed and blushed as he glared at harry. "What do YOU want?" he huffed. "I was wondering if you wanted to come over and sit with me and my friends..you look a little lonely." Harry said, forcing down the urge to make Draco disgrace himself. the blond HAD had a rough day after all. "Do you really think I've sunk THAT low I'll take your pity just like that potter?" Draco huffed and leaned forward. "I don't know how, but I know for a FACT that somehow you were behind what happened yesterday. So thank you, fuck you." and Draco tossed the rest of the bread in his hand at Harry's head. "BYE!" eye twitching Harry clenched a fist and for a second thought of taking a swing at the brat, but again cooler heads prevailed because to be honest, Draco had EVERY right to be pissed with Harry and was on the nose. Still, he couldn't just let that go away totally unpunished and snorted. "Fine whatever. 'Why don't you just sit her and sulk while you suck on your thumb!'" Harry said and turned to leave, knowing even without the laughter that started up that Draco had just started to nurse on his thumb like a pouty toddler. the thumb sucking command would only last for 5 minutes but it was enough to get even more laughter directed Draco's way and a look of disdain from Snape. by the time he was able to free his thumb for his needy mouth Draco would have a extra nick name to go with Potty pants Malfoy: Sucky baby Draco.

with what happened in the dining room proving to Draco for sure that Harry had SOME form of a hold over him, he had planned to go over all the books and scrolls available in the common room to try and figure it out. He was willing to pull a all nighter if that's what it took. However the other slytherin's had other plans. "oi, isn't it past little thumb suckers bed time? it's going on 7:30 after all." Crab asked, blocking his path to the book shelf and smirking. "Bugger off, you know I can keep later hours." Draco said and and went to move around him. "you know.." Pansy said in her smug voice. "I heard that if widdle Draco her makes anther mess in his undies, it's back to nappies for the wholllle year~" Draco gulped and paled a little, noting how Goyle was coming up behind him now and back stepped away for his clearly ex thugs and friends. "I..I mean..G-guys c-come on.." Draco whimpered, realizing just how out classed he was in a physical fight have like a doofus having forgot his wand in his room. "So it IS true!" Pansy said and let out a shrill laugh. "I think you should just get it over with BABY Draco. Snape's coming back any time now and can see you in all your smelly glory again." Crab chuckled. "I..Uh..I don't even have to.." Draco mewed and held up his hands. "oh, you need help  disgracing yourself? All you had to do was ask." Goyle said and unleashed a powerful gut punch that sent spit flying out of Draco's mouth and sank him down to his knees holding his gut, looking up at a sneering Goyle who added. "what are friends for?" the fear had been working his bladder like crazy and Draco had had maybe one too many drinks of milk at dinner because the force of the blow had his poor bladder unleash and for the second in for the second night in a row, he started to flood his pants. "Hahahaha the baby is wetting himself!" Pansy laughed then turned to see Snape standing there. "Professor! you're just in time! Draco wet himself! are you gonna put him in nappies now?" Draco was sniffling and tears welling up in his eyes as he turned to look at his uncle, who strolled over with a look of anger on his face and taking out his wand. "U-Uncle Snape Please I-" Draco started, but then Goyle, Pansy and Crab suddenly turned upside down and were floating in the air, "How utterly stupid do you three believe me to be to think that you could fool me like that?" Snape asked in a quiet voice full of rage. "even if I hadn't of been standing there and seen the last little bit of that, you really think I wouldn't of found the bruise?" he added and started to move his wand up and down shaking the three bullies and making them knock together before dropping them in a heap on the ground. "W-We're sorry!" Yelped Goyle, who was the first to scrabble to his feet. "Won't happen again!" Crab added getting up. "Totally hands off!" Pansy finished and got to her feet. "Oh no, you'll be hands on. If ANYONE else threatens Draco with physical violence, or worse..carries it out, it'll be YOU three I blame and come after. so it's in your best interest to make he stays relatively safe. That said, a little verbal humiliation will do him good, but Hand.Off. Do I make myself clear or do you need anther demonstration?" the three got the point and scrambled off and as Snape went to turn to Draco he got the soaked and smelly boy glomping his waist and whimpering out thanks, getting snot on him. "thank you thank you thank you!" '...I'm getting soft in my old age.' Snape thought dryly and ruffled the boys hair and then lead the way to the bathrooms to get him cleaned up.

[gauntie-o-dimm]

Witchers | The Agreement

For the request, see here. It’s way too long to put on here XD

Word count: 5100+ Warnings: Smut, swearing, dub-con turning consensual

It had been unwise to return to Heatherton together with my twin sister that eventful night, but how could we've known of the ambush? After the Wild Hunt had destroyed our village, we deemed the place safe after a few weeks of waiting, hoping to reclaim our lost belongings, like the necklace of our passed mother. Thing is, the least thing we had expected was my sister to be choked in a firm grip from behind by one of the bandits, holding her in place before knocking her out. No, these weren't your regular bandits, I then had noticed, but masked men, looking for something. Why they had chosen for Heatherton, well, of that I had no knowledge. Perhaps it was because they knew about the desperation of the former inhabitants, what they would to get their life back. My sister and I looked alike, so they must've figured that we were twins, which was true, and it had made them choose a different way to blackmail me into doing something they wanted of me.

Witchers, one had said, the name of those mutants causing me to shiver in disgust. I had never liked Witchers... Well, not liking was an understatement. They were just as bad as the monsters they defeated, heartless creatures out for money. My hatred for these vile demons grew from a contract in the past, a few drowners slain in exchange for a royal part of my already small dowry, thus making me unable to marry in the future. What little fortune we had was taken from us, thus making my gut twist when someone mentioned these monster-slayers.

And I had to go to Kaer Morhen, the masked men said. Make up a list of what was left intact, how many Witchers there were left. Those men wanted something from there, as well. A list of what concoctions they used on a regular basis. I loved my sister, and the desperation to get her back was enough to set aside these negative feelings and agree to their terms. If I returned to Heatherton with a list of potions, alongside a well-detailed description of the state of these cat-eyed creatures, my sister would be released.

So here I was, standing in the main hall, listening to a boring explanation of the head stonemason. I didn't really pay attention to what he was saying to the group of people, instead choosing to look around. I felt sick to my stomach the moment my eye fell on a couple of Witchers sitting a little away. One of them had white hair, tied together loosely in a ponytail. The other two had darker hair, faces littered with scars that couldn't have been caused by anything else but monsters. My gaze crossed with one of theirs - the Witcher with shorter dark hair than the other one, a frown coming on his face. I shuddered visibly and turned back to the stonemason, pretending to be fully listening to the man.

Before I could go snoop around in those chambers, I had to get my hands on a map. Too bad the head stonemason was not paying attention to his belongings - he had spread a map out on the table he was assigned and had walked away, leaving me time to look.

I took out a small leather journal that I got from one of the masked men, scribbling down some instructions to myself. Down the stairs, somewhere not far from where I was standing. No one was paying attention to where I was going, a woman like me almost invisible compared to the burly men that worked with the stonemasons. "Three Witchers." I wrote down before shutting the book. From my satchel, I took a lockpicking set, preparing it as I tip-toed on my way to the alchemy lab. With help of the map I previously looked at it took mere minutes, soon making me able to kneel down in front of the door, starting to work with the small metal sticks.

The familiar click of a lock opening caused me to sigh in relief, rushing inside, the hinges creaking as I shut the door. I mentally cursed, though quickly regaining myself and concentrating on what I came here for in the first place. The laboratory seemed to be filled with all kinds of potions I didn't know the name of, haphazardly stacked across racks and barrels. As quick as I could, I went to work. I remembered what one of the men had instructed me to do - to use a specific kind of code that I had to learn as fast as I could. The last few days had been fruitful and I was certain that I mastered the code-text now.

Thus, I noted down what potions they made and what ingredients they consisted of - my curiosity of what these anonymous strangers wanted with the Witchers grew, though it remained unbeknownst to me. The Witcher to whom this laboratory belonged had a horrible handwriting, causing my hastily scribbles to slow down. I even took a few tiny glass bottles, putting them in my satchel. Despite it not being an order, I hope it would coax these men into releasing my sister sooner. And since I was so caught up in my work, well, I kind of forgot to pay attention to my surroundings. Little did I know, it would become the end of me:

'Just what the hell do you think you're doing here?' A dark voice startled me immensely, and in the movement that my body made, one of the vials shattered onto the tiles, the liquid that had been in it splattering everywhere. My breathing quickened, fear welling up in my chest. 'What the fuck are you doing here?' the voice repeated. Slowly, I turned around, holding up my hands in the air, as if he had to see that I was unarmed. It was the Witcher with the shorter dark hair, cat-like eyes scanning every detail of my face. I shuddered at the sight. 'That is none of your damn business.' 'But it is, missy. This is my lab, you work here and you are snooping around places where you shouldn't be.' I thickly swallowed at the intensity of his prying pupils.

He did a step in my direction. 'So, missy, you better start explaining, and fast.' My eyes fell to the ground, staring at my boots. 'I ah... Well, I was just wondering... I had to go to... To get...' I mentally slapped myself in the face not only for stuttering, but because I hadn't thought of a plan B in the first place. Getting discovered by these mutants like this was something I hadn't even thought about and the task proved to become a little harder.

'What is all this ruckus about?' - another Witcher showed up behind him - 'I thought you only had to grab some- Huh, what the fuck is she doing here? She is one of those workers, ain't she?' 'She is, Eskel. Good fucking morning to you. Don't you recognize her outfit?' The Witcher that was apparently going by the name Eskel rolled his eyes. His face was even more scarred than the one of his brother-in-arms, though eyes just as fierce. 'But what is she doing here, then?' The Witcher with the shorter hair frowned, 'Well, that is what I'd like to know. But the only thing she can do is gape like a fish and look at us as if we're a couple of Rotfiends.' I shuddered at the mental image of one of these necrophages that sometimes wandered around cemeteries, spitting bile and other filthy things until they came close to death and exploded - if we wanderers were lucky. The Witcher of whom I didn't know the name slightly reminded me of one of these creatures, in a way. He looked like he would explode too in extreme situations. Plus, he already smelled the part.

'Guess there is only one thing to it, then.' Eskel said, stepping closer. I instinctively did a step back. 'Don't you dare fucking touch me, you fucking mutant!' My taunts were in vain, soon strong hands were wrapped around my upper arm. The other Witcher soon joined him at the other side, grabbing my other arm, as if I would be able to flee out of Eskel's iron grip. 'Let the fuck go of me!' I whimpered, 'You are hurting me!' I hated the fact that my voice was trembling, now. 'Where are you taking me?!' The two Witchers were just silent and dragged me down the hallway, able to lift me up easily, though keep me low enough to leave me no room to kick their shins and knees. I felt like it, to be honest. They reeked of blood and death, like rotting corpses resting in the sun, waiting to be devoured by some kind of monster that only stank up the place more.

They took me down some stairs, that circled downwards, deeper and deeper into the castle until we reached what seemed like the bottom. I shivered at the dark and cold of the place, with no daylight slipping in through any window. One torch adorned the cobble wall, being the only source of illumination. 'I want to speak to the law! Guards!' 'Ain't no guards hearing you from down here, missy.' the one with the buzzed hair sneered, moving the door closed to lock me up. I grabbed the iron bars, jerking at them in a pathetic attempt to get out. 'You can call whatever you want, but that will leave the desire for us to cut out your tongue. So you better shut the fuck up.' I knew better than that. Obediently though not by wish, I sealed my lips together, crossing my arms in front of my chest. These men disgusted me till no end, and I started to hate them more with every passing second. 'So, what now?' Eskel said, looking over at his friend, who was having his gaze firmly fixated upon me. 'Well... I don't know.' he replied. 'We could get Geralt?' 'Fucking Geralt? Fuck, no! That son of a bitch will only tattle to Vesemir!' 'Lambert, get some fucking sense into your thick head!' Lambert, so that was his name. Eskel continued his rant: 'From the three of us, Geralt is the best with women.' 'With sorceresses, yes. What, do you think he is going to fuck her? Hell no, not happening! She is certainly up to something and we must find out what she is planning to do!' Eskel rolled his eyes. 'Whatever, I am not listening to you. I am going to get him.' With that, he disappeared, leaving me behind with the bold Witcher, who was still staring at me. 'We will get to the bottom of this.' 'There is nothing! I was just curious!' He raised an eyebrow. 'You know that I can hear it if you lie, huh? Witchers have super-senses, remember?' 'I bet they have to compensate for something else entirely.' I dared to snap back. 'What the fuck do you mean with that, huh?'

When I didn’t respond, he inhaled sharply, taking the key to unlock the door again. I frowned, still slowly walking backwards, not wanting to be near that animal for what it’s worth. ‘Give me your bag.’ Lambert instructed, holding out his hand. Instinctively, I clutched the satchel a little closer to my body. ‘Give me the fucking—’ He grabbed a hold of the strap, yanking it down in one quick motion, causing my shirt to rip in the process. ‘That’s what you fucking get, bloody thief.’

He walked a little away, making space. Nimble fingers opened the straps, soon flipping the bag upside down, everything that I carried scattering over the ground with much noise. Papers, herbs, potions that I had stolen from the lab, every last thing was dropped on the cold floor. With a thud, my leather journal fell out, catching the Witcher’s immediate attention. I silently cursed, though loud enough for him to hear, and it was enough reason to grab the bundle of papers.

‘What’s this, then?’ he asked tauntingly, skipping through the pages, not bothering to pick the pencil back up as it fell out. ‘Notes… On Witchers? Magic?’ His eyes scanned the page and he let out a sigh. ‘Of course, fucking coded. Tell me, what’s your name again?’ ‘(Y/n).’ ‘(Y/n). Who do you work for?’ I averted my gaze, not answering his question. ‘Who do you work for?!’ he repeated, louder this time, shouting. Still, I didn’t answer, shocked as he suddenly walked closer to me. He grabbed my arm, squeezing tightly. I flinched at the raw strength, fruitlessly trying to yank my body away. ‘Don’t fucking touch me, you flea-infested dog!’ His eyes seemed to spit fire as well as his tongue. ‘I think someone needs to be taught a little lesson!’ He raised his other arm in the air, balled his fist and I cowered away, afraid of the impact of his beatings. When there was no blow delivered, I opened my eyes again. Lambert seemed troubled somehow, undecidedly hovering his clenched fingers in the air, not knowing whether to continue or not. ‘Who am I to slap a woman like that? Not that it will get any information out of you, anyways.’

He roughly pushed me down suddenly and I gasped at the impact the cold cobble had from up close, but my hands had quick enough a reflex to catch myself onto my palms, preventing me from smacking face-down onto the cold stone. My wrists immediately hurt and I wanted to turn to the Witcher to give him a dirty look, to snap at him that he was an absolute jerk, but my words left me the moment I felt his presence behind me.

Fingers wrapped around the edge of my trousers, practically ripping them off towards my knees. Goosebumps appeared on my skin at the sudden cold tickling my now bare ass-cheeks, and in between the utter confusion I felt, I found myself blushing brightly. ‘What the fuck!’ I exclaimed, ‘What the fuck do you think you’re going to do?!’ The Witcher let out a chuckle, the sound causing shivers to run down my spine. ‘Getting that information out of you.’

‘You think raping me will get me to speak?’ ‘Oh, I am not going to rape you. I am going to spank you.’ I bit my lip in anger, eyes narrowing at the mutant. ‘You’re worse than the monsters you slay!’ Slap! The sound of his palm hitting my butt echoed through the dungeon. I yelped in pain, feeling the immediate sting on my skin. Slap! ‘Who do you work for?’ he barked, crouched down next to my body to be able to slap me better, though free hand resting on his sword, just in case. Fucking prick. Slap! ‘I asked you something, bitch!’ I didn’t fight the tears anymore, freely letting them flow down my face. ‘None of your fucking busi—Nnngh!’ He slapped down harder, making me wonder if I was smelling blood from breaking skin or if it was because I bit the inside of my cheek too hard. ‘Who do you work for?!’ His hand smacked down again, though now resting on the small of my back. Despite the hatred I felt towards this bloody Witcher right now, the electric feel of his fingers on my butt… I cursed myself for my body starting to react to the assault.

‘I asked you something and I will ask again and again. Until you are all beat up and bloody, and then I am going to force you to sit down on a hot stove.’

‘Please…’ I pleaded, sniffling as snot leaked out of my nose. ‘Stop… Please, stop!’ He hummed, letting his hand momentarily slip down in between my ass-cheeks.

And then it happened. The moment his fingers dragged against my core to soothe some of the pain, perhaps, or to torture me, I let out the most lewd and pitiful moan I could imagine, with the sound of it echoing through the halls for all to hear, though I doubted it was startling no one but the rats. The Witcher chuckled deeply, tutting in disbelief. ‘Not only a thief, but a whore as well.’

‘Don’t you fucking touch me!’ I hissed through gritted teeth, trying to resist the feeling his finger was now drawing over my vagina, rubbing it teasingly, spreading juices. ‘You’re very wet, (Y/n). Is there something you aren’t telling me?’ ‘S-Stop…’ My mind screamed to push him away, to face any consequence, but my body told me otherwise. Soon, my mind was too blurry to comprehend what was happening, and I found myself pitifully moving my hips into his touch.

Lambert’s fingers slipped down my folds, parting them, sliding upwards towards my clit, that had started to grow hard under the arousal. I let out a soft gasp, eyes fluttering shut at the touch. ‘Interesting…’ the brunet murmured, letting out a chuckle as he drew a few circles around the sensitive bud before bringing his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them softly. They were soon replaced onto my core, though, slipping knuckle-deep inside.

‘If anything, I’d say you are enjoying this.’ I whimpered at his taunts and the curling of his index finger, touching me in all the right places.

‘What the hell is going on in here?’ The state of bliss was immediately shattered by the return of the Witcher named Eskel, a look of disbelief on his face when I snapped my eyes open, looking at him in pure shock. Next to him, another Witcher, white-haired and just as confused.

Lambert let out a laugh, continuing to finger me awfully slow. ‘What does it look like? (Y/n) here, she has to be taught a lesson. She might be a spy, so I am trying to get some information out of her as well. Would you like to join me? Her body is preparing itself quite well already…’

He leaned in, pressing a kiss onto my neck. I shuddered, wanting to move away from him, attempting to free myself from his grip. I felt disgusting around those mutants, thinking of every insult I could throw their way, but my mind was too clouded with the pleasurable touches from the Witcher next to me. ‘You think this is going to solve anything?’ Eskel asked, ‘You’re such a pervert, Lambert! Fucking a woman isn’t going to get her to talk, and besides, she is our prisoner!’

Lambert arose from his crouched position, standing up and dusting down his clothes. ‘Eskel, what kind of Witcher are you? We could try to get this pretty lady to become our spy, perhaps our sex slave, whatever we want! It’s not like she is going anywhere.’

Eskel shook his head in disappointment, the Witcher with the white hair rubbing his beard thoughtfully.

‘Come on, it’s going to be fun taking her. She’s already liking it.’ ‘No, I’m not!’ ‘Your heartbeat is telling me otherwise.’ Lambert responded. He put his foot against the back of my thigh. ‘Sit on your knees, back straight.’ he instructed. It was best to obey him, I figured.

He grabbed a hold of my head so he could turn my face towards the other Witchers. ‘You guys can find out if she’s any good at sucking cock.’ My eyes widened – I had never done that before!

‘Geralt, stop that!’ Eskel said when the white haired Witcher unbuttoned his trousers. So, Geralt was his name. ‘Why should I?’ Geralt responded with a deep voice, the sound of it causing me to clench my thighs together a bit more. The immediate desire to hear him grunt my name welled up in my chest – wait, what in the hell was I thinking?

‘She’s pretty and it’s not like we’re known for our peaceful ways, are we?’ Eskel shook his head as Geralt freed his semi-hard erection from his underwear. ‘Exactly. Now, (Y/n). Open up.�� I did as he said, opening my mouth hesitantly though curious. He tapped the weeping tip of his penis against my lower lip, making a slightly wet sound. ‘Further.’ The sheer size of it made me swallow thickly, my lips opening to get more space. Geralt thrust his hips towards my face without a second warning, causing me to gag instantly. ‘Fuck, don’t use your teeth!’ he groaned, grabbing a hold of my (h/c) hair. ‘Is she any good?’ Lambert asked whilst starting to strip himself down as well. The sound of armor hitting the floor promised me he would be butt-naked the time I would turn around. ‘She is warm… Her lips are soft. Fuck, can you suck a little harder? Oh, yeah, that’s right!’ I closed my eyes, tears streaking down my face as Geralt’s cock hit the back of my throat repeatedly. I wasn’t used to the feeling of something so deep in my mouth, so it caused a slight ache to well up in my lungs.

‘Hmmm, she’s a natural alright. Feels like she has done this before.’ I frowned, oddly flattered by the compliment. Geralt just kept fucking my face, girth stretching up my mouth every thrust, making me able to wrap my lips around his length even better. ‘I wonder if her cunt feels the same.’ he wondered out loud, pulling his hard member from my mouth. I let go of it with an obnoxious pop, just starting to enjoy the taste of it. Eskel started to slowly take off his armor as well, apparently coaxed by his brothers to join in the fun as well. He was harder than Geralt, his cock smaller though fatter, and for some reason it made my mouth water. I felt a slight tug at my arm, instructing me to stand up. I did as I was told, though the sudden feeling of being lifted up by a pair of strong arms causing me to yelp. ‘Already going to talk, (Y/n)?’ I heard Lambert’s deep voice behind me, his hands holding onto my thighs, rolling my body towards his. My pants were removed further from my body, soon making me able to pull up my legs, held by the back of my knees against Lambert’s chest. Said Witcher was leaned against the wall for support, head of his cock pressing firmly against my entrance. ‘Judging by how well you sucked Geralt off, I trust you have no trouble taking in double into that sopping cunt of yours, huh?’ he taunted, Eskel appearing right in front of me. ‘Can you hold her for a second?’ Lambert asked, one of his hands letting go of me when Eskel supported my ass by one of his strong hands. Their fingers tingled against my skin.

A squeal left my body as Lambert pressed his tip inside, a surprised hum leaving him when he couldn’t enter me right away. ‘You going to tell me my cock’s the fattest you’ve ever had before, love?’ he murmured. Eskel however seemed to realized something when he witnessed my discomfort, despite my immense arousal and the sudden desire to be taken by the mutants I despised so deeply. ‘Lambert, hold on.’ he said with a soft voice, cupping my face in his free hand. ‘Are you alright?’ Of course I wasn’t, I wanted to say, for it stung between my legs. But I swallowed it away, instead choosing to get through the slight discomfort.

‘I think I already know.’ Geralt said, stroking himself whilst eyes were focused on my exposed flesh. ‘She’s tight, ain’t she? Still got a cherry that has to be popped?’ My eyes shut, embarrassed. ‘Someone who can suck dick that well, a virgin?!’ Lambert sounded almost mocking, though continuing the movement of his hips upwards, sliding into me even deeper until he was fully in till the hilt. I gasped, the pain easing, but what could I know?

Soon, Eskel stepped in between my legs, starting to slowly kiss me as his fingers massaged the sore edges of my stretching vagina. It was unfamiliar and it took a few seconds before I kissed him back, liking the taste on his tongue – a mixture of whiskey and something else altogether, though I couldn’t put a finger on it. It left me hungry for more of him. My eyes snapped open when I felt the tip of Eskel’s cock soon press next to Lambert’s length, attempting to slip himself inside as well. ‘Now that you’re being stretched, we could take you all the way as well.’ he said, moving his hips forward, increasing the burn between my legs significantly. ‘I had almost forgotten how good virgin cunt feels.’ Lambert said, breath heavy in my neck. ‘Always so tight and desperate…’ Eskel started to finger my clitoris in circular motions, easing himself inside with every small thrust of his pelvis, until he was fully in till the hilt, snugly pressed against me.

I softly started to moan at the pleasurable feeling beginning to build in the pit of my stomach. The fact that I hated Witchers seemed to be pushed away right now, leaving a desire deep within my loins to be pleased by them until I reached orgasm. They could destroy me for all I cared, and the intended mission that I came for in the first place didn’t cross my mind again. Instead there was pleasure, the ache growing to be nice and the motions of the two Witchers fucking me growing more and more smooth as time passed. My head leaned against Lamberts chest, his breathing ragged as he bounced my body onto his cock. I moaned out loud, wanton and lewd, a sound that I didn’t know I was capable of making. Geralt stood a little away, masturbating whilst gaze was fixated on my soaked cunt, fluids staining my legs and thighs. Part of me felt filthy, but it was nothing compared to the longing for release. For the first time in my life, I felt sexier than ever, and the idea that slipped into my mind that I could eventually become their spy and probably have more of these encounters had me clench my walls even tighter, if that was even possible.

Both Witchers groaned, wholly enjoying the feeling of ramming themselves into me, anything but bothered by the noise it made. ‘Do you want to talk now, princess?’ Lambert groaned in my ear, thrusts becoming shallow as his length throbbed inside of me. I rolled back my head, letting him kiss my neck in between grunts. ‘N-No… There is nothing to tell!’

An annoyed sigh left him, mouth retreating from my skin and instead starting to let out low grunts and groans. ‘Oh, I am going to fill you up so nicely…’ The erotic words had my clit twitch with the massaging that hadn’t stopped. ‘Geralt, come here.’ he said, beckoning the Witcher over as I suddenly felt a warm, sticky mess fill me up. Eskel grunted through gritted teeth, thrusting a few times with uneven movements before pulling out. I flinched at the slight pain of the removal, though the Witcher with the slightly longer dark hair gesturing Geralt to kneel down in between my legs.

Soon, the Witcher’s tongue was on my clit, mouth slurping at my juices, eating me out and having me see stars. I moaned loudly, eyes rolling back in my skull as I felt my high coming closer. The heat of Geralt’s tongue against my pearl alongside the thrusts that Lambert did in me had my body violently shaking.

This is what it was like to have an orgasm, I realized. With a loud moan, I came at the same moment I felt Lamberts hot spend shoot out of him, pushing it in deep as he could whilst the white haired Witcher didn’t waste any time sucking on the sensitive bud. My toes curled, legs quivering with pleasure.

Lambert slipped out of me, placing me back onto the floor. I immediately collapsed onto my knees, unable to stand up straight. It gave Geralt the chance to grab my chin, his other hand wrapped around his cock as he started to jerk himself off violently. ‘Hmmm, open up…’ I opened my mouth, wanting to take his hard member into my mouth again, but he immediately stopped me. ‘No, not that way… Just open your mouth and stick out your tongue. Guys…’ Eskel and Lambert stood at either side of me, their cocks also being palmed by themselves, although limp and thoroughly spent, swollen and red as their foreskin moved around their tips. Geralts load was hot and sticky on my face and his hard cock bobbed when he rested it on my tongue, tapping it a few times to give me a taste of his cum.

‘Clean us up.’ Lambert instructed. ‘All of our cum.’

I could taste my own juices on Eskel and Lambert their cocks, but I didn’t care.

‘Will you talk now?’ Lambert said as I slurped the remnants of sperm from their shafts, indulging myself in their taste.

‘As I said…’ I replied, kissing the head of his cock firmly. ‘There is nothing to be talking about.’

‘You’re a good liar, (Y/n).’ Eskel laughed, reaching for his armor again. The other men followed this example, though he scolded me when I tried to get my own clothes. ‘No, you’re staying here for a  while like the horny whore you are. You need to let all that seed leak out a little before you can put on your underwear again. Don’t want it getting filthy, now do we?’

I was dumbfounded and still coming down from the incredible jolts that had set my body on fire a few minutes ago while I watched them re-dress.

‘We will get you to talk, you little minx, and we are going to force you to be our spy instead. How does that sound, huh?’

Mixed feelings ran through me, though right now, bliss was the one that caused me to pitifully moan – I just hoped that they would touch me again, take me again, fuck me again.

Lambert smirked, cupping my chin in his hand, pressing a rough kiss on my mouth. Then, the three of them left the cell, proceeding to lock it up tightly. ‘Well then, we will take your journal with us in an attempt to figure out what it says. Meanwhile, you can stay here. We will be back, and perhaps sooner than you think.’

On that note, they left the dungeon, on their way back upstairs, leaving me in the dark and cold.

The fact that my sister was still imprisoned by those masked men swiftly crossed my mind, though disappeared like the heat I had felt previously. There was nothing I could do, anyway.

And so, I awaited the moment that their footsteps would be audible on the stairs again, heralding a second session of bliss.

#witcher x reader #the witcher #geralt of rivia #lambert #eskel

[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 14: Can You Keep A Secret, Professor?

(Click here for chapter 13!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

It was late at night, and Severus was in a truly splendid mood as he made his way through one of the school’s deserted corridors.

Just a few hours earlier, his house’s Quidditch team had absolutely smashed those stupid little Gryffindors he despised so much. 60 to 190 points – he still marvelled at that superb score. Finally, after all those years, his beloved Slytherins were again on their way to take home Hogwarts’ Inter-House Quidditch Cup! He could not help but smirk as he thought of the shocked expression on Potter’s face when Draco Malfoy had caught the Snitch right before the Chosen One’s eyes. After the game, the Potions Master had then spent the rest of his night harvesting Sopophorous beans from his secret acreage hidden deep within the Forbidden Forest and was now on his way back to his chambers. Ah yes, today had been a good day!

Snape was just about to turn the corner when he heard the unmistakable creak of a heavy door echoing through the nocturnal quiet. Maybe it was a remnant of his spying days or maybe it was the teacher in him evermore prepared to catch some unsuspecting students breaking the rules, but he immediately stopped dead in his tracks and squeezed his body against the wall before risking a stealthy look into the corridor to his right.

At first, he could not see much as the light coming through an open door situated a mere few metres in front of his position was simply too bright; it took his eyes a second or two to adjust. It was only then that he realised he was looking at the entrance to the Hospital Wing. Funny – he hadn’t even noticed that he had wandered into the Hospital Tower. But maybe that should not have come as a surprise, considering how much his mind had been all over the place lately.

Turning his attention back to the scene before him, he could make out a person looking suspiciously similar to Madam Pomfrey standing in the doorway, evidently speaking with someone out of his sight. The wizard’s brows puckered. Normally, Poppy had a zero-tolerance policy when it came to her sleeping schedule; one that she defended with all kinds of nasty hexes, as he himself had had to experience first-hand. The only exception, of course, was in cases of emergency; but in that instance, every one of the school’s teachers would have been informed. And Severus knew for a fact that Albus’ Patronus would have easily found him no matter where he had been, even deep down in the woods.

Trying to get a better look, he scooted a bit closer, making sure not to step out of the protective cover provided by the nighttime shadows, just as the matron moved aside to let her conversation partner exit the room. To say that he was surprised when he saw Granger set foot in the dark corridor would have been an understatement.

He had not seen her since they had shared that quick hug in the Entrance Hall; as far as he was aware, she had not even attended the game earlier. Presently, she was dressed in what seemed to be a light grey bathrobe over a pair of red plaid cotton pyjamas, with her hair pulled into a messy ponytail at the nape of her neck – certainly a drastic difference to the risky Halloween costume she had worn just a few days earlier.

Severus watched as the Gryffindor exchanged a few more unintelligible words with the elderly healer before turning around and walking off into the direction of the Grand Staircase, her cloth slippers audibly dragging across the stone floor. He waited until the door to the infirmary had been pulled shut before moving to stealthily follow her. The thoughts in his head were running wild. Why had she been there, at this time of night at that?! Had she somehow gotten injured? Had she contracted some sort of disease? Panic already arousing in him, Snape forced himself to calm down. No, he would have been told if his personal apprentice had become sick or gotten hurt. Also, he knew that Poppy would never discharge a patient in the middle of the night. So what was really going on?

The strides of his long legs great, he was quick to catch up to her petite figure.

“Miss Granger,” he growled, causing the witch to jump in surprise. “What were you doing in the Hospital Wing at this hour? It is almost one o’clock in the morning, so you are not only outside of visiting hours but also past curfew!”

“Merlin, keep your voice down or someone will hear you!”

Severus did not even have enough time to get angry about being shushed by a student – or to blush at his new love interest tightly gripping his arm – before Granger pulled him into the nearest empty classroom. Pulling out her wand, she quickly locked the door and cast a privacy charm before turning around to face him.

“My apologies, sir.” She regarded him with a slight frown on her face. “But I simply could not risk anyone eavesdropping on us.”

“I demand to know the meaning of this right now, Miss Granger!” snarled Snape.

After giving him a long and calculated look, the young woman tilted her head as she asked, “Can you keep a secret, Professor?”

“Keep a secret?” He almost felt as though he had just been insulted. “I was a Death Eater and a double agent for longer than you have been alive, you foolish girl!”

Granger ignored his little emotional outburst. “I will take that as a yes.” She walked over to one of the wooden tables in the front row and leant against it. “My visit to the infirmary did not concern myself.”

Severus just glared at her, waiting for her to continue.

“Rather, I was there to act as a sort of moral support for Ginny.”

“Miss Weasley.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes,” she confirmed nonetheless. “I’m sure that you noticed her absence at today’s game. You see, her and Harry have been an item for a while now. But it seems as though they recently had a little mishap.”

The Potions professor was growing more and more impatient. Potter and anything concerning him was one of his least favourite subjects.

“A mishap of what sort?” he pressed her.

“Well …” Seemingly searching for the right words, Snape thought that he could see her face turn red a little. “A mishap as they became more intimate. Carelessness in the heat of passion, if you will.”

Snape’s eyes turned big and he could feel a burning sensation starting to spread in his cheeks.

“You mean …” He could not even bring himself to say it.

Granger nodded. “Ginny got pregnant. She obviously freaked out, not knowing what to do. So after she confided in me, I set up a secret appointment with Madam Pomfrey.”

She did not elaborate further, looking at him as though he should know where the story was going. But after a few seconds of Severus just staring back at her blankly, she finally lost her patience.

“The pregnancy was terminated.”

“WHAT?”

Granger simply rolled her eyes. “Come on, Professor! Don’t act like you aren’t aware that things like this happen at our school all the time. Every year, there’s at least half a dozen of girls seeking Madam Pomfrey’s assistance in such matters.”

“No, I did not know that!” he barked back. “What do the girl’s parents have to say to all of this? And Potter?!”

She offered him a sad smile. “He doesn’t know.”

“What?!” he exclaimed appalled. “How could that idiot not know he impregnated a fellow student?”

“Ginny just never told him. I advised her to do so, of course; but she didn’t want to. And at the end of the day, it’s her body and her choice. All I can do is be there for her as a friend.” She crossed her arms. “It’s probably for the best anyway. Harry would have tried to convince her to continue with the pregnancy for sure, and they’re just not ready for that kind of responsibility. I mean, neither of them has even finished their education yet! And while Harry might have brought about Voldemort’s downfall, he cannot even keep up with his schoolwork, let alone take care of a child.”

Severus was taken aback by the maturity in her voice. “She is probably right,” he thought. He did not even want to imagine having to deal with another Potter brat in eleven years’ time; just the idea of it made him shudder. Still, the thought of two students being sexually active made him highly uncomfortable somehow. Ironic, considering his own current emotional state.

“And so that’s the reason why I was in the Hospital Wing,” he could hear the brunette conclude.

“Very well.” He let out an audible sigh. “10 points from Gryffindor.”

“Excuse me?!” she bellowed.

“Miss Granger, as the school’s Head Girl, you should lead by example. Wandering around the castle after curfew is a punishable offence.” He smirked. “Regardless of the circumstances.”

It was painfully obvious that that was an attempt at lightening the mood, and the brightest witch of her age threw her hands up in frustration.

“You really are something, Professor Snape! I guess I better get going before you deduct even more points – for ridiculous reasons, I might add!”

She removed her magical guards and made for the door.

“One last thing, Miss Granger.”

A head of full brown locks turned to him. “Yes?”

Severus regarded her quizzically. “Why would you tell me such damning information willingly?”

“Oh, I don’t believe you would ever tell, sir. You would have to admit to having conversations with your apprentice in private, after all.”

And with one last cheeky grin, she disappeared into the night.

(Click here for chapter 15!)

#fanfictionbyusignolo #fanfiction by usignolo #fanfiction by usignolo masterlist #usignolo masterlist #masterlist #slytherinknowitall #Slytherin Know-It-All #severus snape #severus snape x hermione granger #hermione granger #pro severus snape #professor snape #PFACL #PFACL chapter 14 #chapter 14 #potion fumes and cauldron leaks #snape lives au #harry potter fandom #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #snanger #snamione #snermione #fanfic #fanfiction #snape community #romance #fluff #hurt/comfort

[darkwoods-darkdreams]

Imagine you’re a thief (IV)

You stood at the bottom of the staircase, gazing up at the doors that separated you from the outside world. It wasn’t a barrier keeping you from your freedom anymore. No, you had quickly learned that the ruin was one of the safest places in the world for you. But now you were leaving. It brought about a nervousness you hadn’t felt in a long time, not since you had first become a thief. You paused, realizing that you had been absentmindedly rubbing your stomach. Rather than immediately moving your hand, your touch lingered. You weren’t sure if you were attached to your child, given you weren’t overwhelmed with pride like most mothers you had seen, but you certainly didn’t mind the changes to your body as much.

The elf finally entered the room, carrying a rather large box. Since he was meeting with his associates, you were sure that he was bringing some supplies and wares. If anyone asked for something to be made, he would be able to do so with the items he had brought.

“Forgive me, packing too longer than I expected,” He let go of the box, but it remained suspended in the air, “Are you ready to leave?”

You nodded, watching as he moved over to the nearby wardrobe and grabbed two cloaks. When the elf had first asked you to come with him, you had questioned his motives. He had let you stay in the ruins every other time he had left, but now he was changing his mind. He had merely smiled, explaining that he was worried about you, given the circumstances. He wanted to be by your side should anything happen. It was strange, to know that someone was worried about you. You had left any sort of family long ago and the feeling had become a distant memory. You never expected to feel that way again.

“The trip won’t take that long. A few days, at most,” He draped one of the cloaks over your shoulders, pulling it across your form. It hid your pregnancy quite well, despite how far along you were. However, he hesitated for a moment. The elf stared at you, as if searching for something in your expression, “…I would have liked to abandon this trip and stay here with you, but the meeting can’t be avoided so easily. Our child has grown much faster than I expected. It could be a moon from now or several moons. If anything were to happen, I would hate for you to be alone.”

You were rendered speechless at first. When the incident with the potion had first happened, he had referred to your pregnancy as a condition. He had tread so lightly and carefully around the subject. But he had changed. He had called it his child, one that the two of you shared. Your emotions got the better of you. You stepped away from him, “We should go.”

“Yes, of course,” He replied. There was no hint of regret in his words. He had meant what he said and wasn’t shying away from it. Still, his lack of pressing any further proved that he had noticed your discomfort. In fact, he seemed even more amused, since he slowly bowed in front of you and offered his hand, “Would you like some help getting up the stairs?”

You watched him at first, then sighed, “Yes,” You weren’t about to try getting up a set of old, worn stairs with added weight by yourself. You reached out to take his hand, only for him to gracefully lift you into his arms. The glare you gave him was sharp, “This isn’t what I meant.”

“Ah, no, but it was I meant,” He grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

“Farewell, master,” The stone guardian had awoken, moving closer, “And to you, mistress.”

You glanced to the elf, trying to find any sort of reaction. But he merely turned and carried you up the stairs, the floating box following closely behind. Unfortunately for him, you weren’t about to let it go unnoticed, “It’s been calling me that for a while now.”

“Has it?”

You pouted, but it was only to hide the small grin threatening to spread across your face. He was pretending to be unaware, though you knew better. Such things imbued with magic were set to a strict set of rules. It wouldn’t have changed its opinion of you unless the elf had told it to do so. He liked to tease you, but he was prone to sentimentalities that you could use to your own advantage.

He set you down inside of the boat, then climbed in himself. The box landed gently between you. The elf waved his hand and the boat began moving on its own at a reasonable pace.

You looked out at the horizon briefly, then returned your attention to the elf, “I thought that you used portals to get around.”

“Usually, yes. But that magic is not tolerated well by everyone, especially those with child.”

“What would have happened?” You couldn’t help but be curious. You were still wary of magic, though being around the elf had lessened your fear towards simpler spells.

“You would have felt rather ill. The nausea would have lasted for hours, if not days. I think you’ve dealt with that sort of symptom enough.”

You sighed, not wanting to think about how horrible your morning sickness had been before it disappeared.

“But that sort of reaction happens to everyone. In your case, our child would have been quite restless afterward.”

“Oh,” You had expected something far more dangerous. You had felt a bit of squirming and kicking every once in a while. It had surprised you at first, but it then became yet another common occurrence. Still, his explanation made it apparent that he was avoiding magic for the sake of your comfort and safety, “…Thank you.”

He said nothing, though you could tell from the way that he leaned back and grinned that he was pleased.

Your destination, which the elf explained was a secluded meeting place for what used to be a large group of elven mages. Due to the tense relations between elves and humans, the number of people who knew of the location was limited. You didn’t understand why he trusted you with such information, given your being human, but he still insisted that you go with him rather than waiting at an inn.

You walked alongside him, though you moved closer and placed your hand in the crook of his elbow as the crowd thickened. You didn’t want to get separated in a city that you had never been to before, let alone one that had so many royal guards stationed every few buildings.

The reaction to your gesture was almost immediate. Two women that you walked by paled and began whispering to each other. Your instincts as a thief begged for you to separate yourself from the elf and head off in a different direction to avoid raising suspicion. You were wearing clothing covered in elven symbols. You were clearly human, and yet you were heavily involved with someone that wasn’t. You swallowed thickly, fighting the urge to run. Instead, you spared a glance toward the elf. He hadn’t made any effort to disguise his appearance. His hair was pushed away from his face, keeping his pointed ears uncovered. He walked with the same regality that he always did, a gait that was visibly noticeable compared to everyone else bustling through the streets. You wondered if he didn’t care because he could protect himself with magic, or if knew that carrying himself a certain way would keep him safe.

You tried to refocus on the path in front of you, but the elf gently stopped you. You paused, about to ask why, only to see that he was looking at a young girl selling crowns made of flowers and other trinkets in front of a bakery.

He approached her, bowing slightly, “May I buy one of these from you?”

The girl hesitated, clearly not used to seeing elves. You felt a pang of guilt in your chest, knowing that you used to be the same way. She looked to you for a moment, then nodded.

He gave her some money, then took one of the crowns. He turned to you with a smile, setting the flowers upon your head, “Perfect.”

You laughed a bit, reaching up to touch the flowers. You didn’t recognize half of them. Perhaps they were only found in or around the city, “Is this really necessary?” You teased.

“Of course,” He quipped, “Elves only give the best of offerings to their goddesses.”

You opened your mouth to give a witty remark in return, only to notice the same women from before. They had been following you, though they were keeping their distance. They had abandoned whispering to each other. They were talking quite loudly, obviously wanting to be heard.

“Look at them. Disgusting.”

“She’s carrying that thing’s spawn. She’s probably under some spell. No one in their right mind would do such a thing.”

“Giving life to Halflings. This town is becoming a breeding ground for filth.”

Your grip tightened on the elf’s arm. Lifting your arm had parted the cloak, revealing your swollen belly. You quickly returned your arm to your side and stepped forward to berate them, only for him to step in front of you. He leaned down, kissing you. You immediately withdrew, about to argue until he kissed you again. You sighed, holding his shoulders, “Enough. I’m going to tear them apart.”

“Cerbin,” He blocked your path again, the corner of his mouth pulled upwards. He took your hand, kissing the back of it as his eyes shone with mirth, “Relax. This alone makes their blood boil. Anything you say to them now will only make things escalate.”

You scowled, “They have no right to-“

“Yes, I know,” His lips brushed against your cheek, then your jaw, “Come. We’ll be late, otherwise.”

You reluctantly walked away with him, refusing to look back.

The mages’ meeting place was in a rather expensive looking building. On the outside, it seemed like a high-class inn. However, upon the elf using a spell to get inside, you discovered that the interior was heavily influenced by elven culture. You followed him, but caught yourself pausing to marvel at all of the designs and objects on display. You would have to ask him for a tour when you had the time.

The largest room housed a massive table, several chairs already filled with other mages. Most of them wore elven clothes, though some had made a point to look more human. Still, you couldn’t tell if it was out of personal preference or for the sake of their own safety. When you stepped inside, you were immediately greeted by everyone staring at you.

One mage, who was wearing traditional clothes, stood abruptly, “An’givare! How dare you, Gvalch?!”

“She is not a spy,” He replied as he brought you chair of your own, “Nor am I a traitor. I brought her here for her own safety.”

“What is she to you, then?” Another asked.

“Me minne,” The elf you knew as Gvalch sat down next to you, crossing one leg over the other, “An aen modron me wedd.”

You couldn’t piece together what he was saying. He rarely spoke in anything but the common tongue unless he was performing magic. You didn’t know if he was using the language in order to keep his colleagues from being offended or to keep it a secret from you. However, you could tell from the reactions of the others that he had revealed something important.

“She has done nothing to betray my trust since I’ve known her. She has no ill will towards us.”

“Regardless, she is human.”

“If you’re telling her to go, then I will also take my leave.”

The others exchanged glances, some of them visibly sighing. It seemed that, with the few mages still left, they couldn’t afford to lose anyone else.

“Fine, she is permitted to stay,” Who you guessed was the leader spoke up, turning his attention to you, “Though I’m sure you understand that nothing that is said here can be repeated elsewhere.”

“I understand,” You bowed slightly in your chair. Even if you wanted to, there was no one for you to tell. You never worked with anyone. Any friends or family were long gone.

The meeting lasted for hours. It was a fury of the common tongue, several elven dialects, and other languages you had never heard before. You waited patiently, quite entertained when they spoke in the one language you understood. Every so often, the elf would stop paying attention to whoever was speaking in order to check on you. He would smile, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. He was still so openly affectionate, even when most of the others didn’t approve.

You made it back to the inn you had stopped at to deposit your belongings. You sat down on the bed as the elf sorted through the luggage. You watched him for a moment, only to notice you were still wearing the flower crown. After gently removing it, you looked over the various flora. The situation you were both in was much more complicated than you had realized. You had spent so much time in the ruin that you had forgotten about how much the majority of humans and elves hated each other. No matter where you went, there would always be someone who disagreed with the two of you living together.

“About what happened today, with those women,” You looked up, “That happens often, doesn’t it?”

“Occasionally,” He replied, “But I’ve learned that ignoring them is the best course of action. In my youth, I used to confront them. I’ve had to avoid being tied to a pyre several times.”

You didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t imagine living such a life. Most cities and towns were filled with humans. Only small villages and secluded areas were home to elves, unless they were influential enough to remain untouched around humans.

“Don’t worry, nothing will happen to you.”

“I’m more worried about you,” You countered. You refused to make this about yourself.

“Nothing will happen to me, either,” He sat down next to you, casting you a soft grin, “Though I appreciate the concern.”

“Isn’t there a way to fix it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I would never ask you to become human,” You began, “But what if I-“

“No,” His answer held no harshness, though you could tell there was nothing that could sway him.

“It would be easier, wouldn’t it? You’re one of the best mages in that group, surely you would be capable of such a thing.”

He reached out, brushing your hair away from your face, “Even if I were capable of tearing the skies open and destroying every star, I would not change you.”

“Because you can’t disrupt nature.”

“Because I love you as you are,” He replied, “And I find your curved ears and cuspids quite adorable.”

“You like my pointed teeth?” You laughed a bit.

“Yes, but if I had to choose a trait that I admired the most, it would be your ferocity. You are unafraid. You wanted to confront those women. Even I’ve been taken aback several times by you, especially when we first made our agreement. You must be a formidable thief, when you are not hindered by magic.”

Yet again, you were rendered speechless by his eloquence. You had always brushed off his comments as just a part of his teasing nature, but you couldn’t ignore it anymore. He loved you, it wasn’t just for the sake of wit.

He turned to you, “The potion from that night, I believe it’s finally worked its way out of your system. You’re no longer a servant to your own arousal.”

He was right. You hadn’t asked him for anything since you left the ruins. Your mind was so much clearer than it used to be. You felt like your old self again. You rested your chin on his shoulder, holding his arm to your chest, “Could we? Sleep together, I mean.”

The elf looked at you, unable to hide his smile, “It would be disgraceful of me to refuse a request from my goddess.”

The travel back to the ruins took much longer than expected. As you made your way with the elf back to the boats, discomfort was beginning to impact your movement. You had nearly doubled over in pain when getting into the boat, your stomach and back aching. You had brushed it off, pretending that it was just the child kicking a tender spot. However, you knew that it more than just idle movement. You had never truly experienced someone else giving birth, let alone yourself, but you knew that was what your body was working towards. Even so, you kept quiet. Every wince was masked as fidgeting. Every moan was swallowed. When your water broke, it was hidden by the seawater that occasionally splashed into the boat.

However, the pain was becoming too great. The shore and the entrance to the ruins were visible, but you couldn’t hold out any longer. You gripped the side of the boat, whimpering.

“Cerbin?” The elf stared at you, his concern evident, “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“I-I think I’m…” You placed a hand over your stomach, wishing the pain would stop.

You didn’t need to say anything more. When the boat reached the shore, the elf was already standing. He helped you step out, quickly lifting you into his arms. He abandoned his supplies, carrying you down the stairs and into your bedroom. He placed you on the bed, but never stepped away. He brushed your hair from your face, kissing the back of your hand.

“Gvalch,” You tensed, the pain worse than anything you had ever felt before. You gripped the sheets, trying to ground yourself as another contraction started.

“I’m right here, my love,” He kissed your forehead, then moved to the end of the bed, helping you with your skirt and smallclothes.

As soon as you were able, you spread your legs. You could feel the child moving downwards, causing your back to arch. Your cries became louder. You shut your eyes, holding your breath as you pushed. You gasped for breath, falling back against the bed. The entire process was exhausting. You had no idea how you would keep going. Tears blurred your vision, spilling from your eyes and wetting your hair. You were in so much pain, “I can’t…I’m so sorry.”

The elf returned to your side, taking your hand. He didn’t pull away, even as you gripped his hand to point that you were sure he was in pain. He watched you, eyes wide. He was horrified, and at a complete loss as to what he should do. He seemed torn between helping you give birth and comforting you. He whispered something that sounded like elven. At first, you thought it was some sort of prayer to the elven gods. He never seemed like a devout believer in such things.

However, as your pain was suddenly washed away by a feeling of slight cold, you realized that it was a spell. You turned to him, “Was that…a spell?” You watched him, worried that he knew something you didn’t, “I thought you said you didn’t disrupt nature.”

“I know,” He sighed, “I just…Seeing you in agony is unbearable. Forgive me, I can take away the pain, but I cannot make this any easier for you. Any other spell could bring consequences for both of you.”

Your womb tensing caused no pain, only a pressure that made you curse under your breath. The child shifted again, the feeling of such fullness bringing the urge to squirm. You remained still, trying to focus on something, anything else. With another push, you felt its head crowding against your entrance. You let go of the elf’s hand, “Go, it’s-“

He hesitated, as if he wanted to stay by your side, but moved to the end of the bed. He placed his hands on your thighs, pushing your legs back. It took away some of the pressure, though most of it remained, “You’re almost there.”

You nodded, gathering what strength you had left. Thankfully, you felt the child make some progress. It must have been enough, since the elf gently guided it the rest of the way. The hollowness was strange, especially when you had grown so attached. The rest was easier, especially when you finally heard the baby crying. You forced yourself to sit up, only for a wave of dizziness to overtake you.

The elf stood, cradling the child in his arm despite all of the blood and other fluids staining his clothes. He nudged you softly to one side, “You should rest. You’ve been through quite the ordeal. I’ll take care of everything.”

You blinked tiredly, carefully lying down on the bed and closing your eyes.

When you awoke, you weren’t sure how much time had passed. You sat up, noticing that you were in different clothes. The bedding had been changed. A gurgling sound made you look up. The elf had brought his chair from the study, sitting next to the bed with the child wrapped in soft fabrics. You watched, not saying anything at first. It was so small. You couldn’t believe something so tiny could survive, and yet it was right in front of you.

“Me minne,” The elf smiled, “You’re awake.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“Not long,” He rose from the chair, as graceful as ever, “Would you like to hold them?”

You nodded immediately, reaching out to take the small bundle into your arms. When you had first entered the ruins in search of something to steal, you never would have expected to be in such a situation. But you weren’t the same person anymore. So much had changed.

“She’s beautiful,” He sat down once more, giving you time to have the child to yourself, “Just like her mother.”

A girl. And he was right, she was as adorable. It reminded you of the fairytales about cute princesses. You moved the blanket a bit, smiling when you saw that she had pointed ears, “Looks like she didn’t inherit everything from me.”

“Who knows, she might still have pointed teeth,” He teased in response. He crossed one leg over the other, content with watching, “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine,” You shook your head, “Just a bit tired, but I can sleep later,” You looked up at him, though you absentmindedly stroked her soft cheeks with your fingertips, “Are there any other names for birds in your language?”

“Ah, let me see,” He pondered it for a moment, “Zireael is the term we use for a swallow,” He tilted his head to one side, “Is that what you want to name her?”

“Yes. I like it for a girl’s name,” You paused, remembering that you didn’t know each other’s real names. Gvalch was just an alias. Cerbin was just what he called you, “Um, about my name, it’s _____,” You weren’t sure if he wanted to know. Even if he didn’t, you had spent so much time with him. It was something he deserved to know.

He grinned, repeating it. It sounded so much nicer with his voice and accent than it did from a human mouth, “It suits you, though you’ll always be my Cerbin,” He moved closer, sitting beside you, “Would you like to know my name, then?”

“Of course,” You replied, “It’s only fair.”

He leaned down, whispering his true name into your ear. It sounded like that of some ancient king, but he always reminded you of that sort. His name only proved his natural regality and poise. You murmured the name, trying to match the pronunciation. Still, you had a hard time imagining him as anything other than Gvalch.

He withdrew from you, though an expression flickered across his features that you weren’t used to seeing on him. He bowed slightly, “Now that you’ve given birth, I would like to offer you another choice. Before I explain and you decide, I want you to know that I bear you no ill will regardless of what you choose,” He said that, but you had gotten used to knowing when he was lying, “You’ve been a thief for over half of your life. I understand if it’s difficult to leave that sort of lifestyle. If you desire it, you’re free to leave with or without the child.”

You stared at him. He was still offering you a choice. He truly believed in free will. It was strange to have someone with so much power and influence at your feet.

He knelt before you, “However, you are more than welcome to stay. You wouldn’t be able to continue with your previous work, but I promise that you will never want for anything. You or Zireael. I love you both dearly. You are more than anything I could ever ask the gods for. No spell or magic could have brought me someone like you,” His voice cracked. He was overwhelmed, a man at risk of losing everything important in his life, “Please, Cerbin. If you love me, stay with me.”

You smiled, leaning forward and kissing him, “Am I still a raven if I don’t admire shiny objects?”

He kissed you once more, withdrawing with a wide grin, “You’ve stolen much more than a phylactery from me, me minne.”

An’givare – spy/traitor

Me minne – my love

An aen modron me wedd – and the mother of my child

#fpreg #birth #gvalch and cerbin #a thief #good ending route #elf route #series

[littlemisskookie]

Violet: Hogwarts!AU

Violet Ship: Ravenclaw!Namjoon | Gryffindor!Reader Description: What do you get when you mix blue and red? Bestfriends to lovers!au, hogwarts!au Warnings: Light Angst, Fluff, intercourse, Fingering, Small Dirty Talk, Slapping, Blowjob, Slight Public Word Count: 5,102

When you first got acquainted with Namjoon, it wasn't supposed to be much. You had never expected to befriend him quite honestly. After all, he was Ravenclaw and you were Gryffindor. Two different houses, and though that didn't stop past friendships, it did make the likelihood a bit slimmer.

You were only 15 at the time, and struggling severely in Charms. Ridiculous, right? Charms of all things. Potions? Proficient. Defense Against the Dark Arts? Practical master. So on and so forth, you were doing pretty well. But Charms?

Ugh.

"I can't believe I'm failing Charms of all things," you groaned, looking at your most recent grade. "I mean, seriously, how pathetic is that?"

"Pretty pathetic," your friend Soojin quipped.

"Very motivating," you glared. "I still don't see how you can't help me."

"I would, but last time I tried you made me float and stick to the ceiling," Soojin recalled, grimacing at the memory.

"I was only 11!" you groaned. "How was I supposed to know I did the Leviousa charm too intensely or whatever?"

"Well, for one, you pointed it at me instead of the feather," she deadpanned.

"Well, it was pretty funny."

"It took an hour to get me down!"

"I floated some snacks up to you!"

"Only some oranges! And you know I hate oranges."

"Hey, at least I didn't give you peanuts. You're allergic to those."

"Oh yeah, thank God you didn't do the asshole move," she rolled her eyes.

"I just don't see how I'm going to pass at this rate. I need a miracle," you said, changing the subject back to the matter at hand. "Don't you know anyone who'd be willing to tutor me?"

"That'd be impossible after the fiasco I mentioned," Soojin admitted. "Well, there might be one person..."

"Who?" Your eyes lit up at the prospect that there may be hope at the end of the tunnel.

"You see that Ravenclaw over there? Tan, dark skin, too hot for his own good?" Soojin asked, nodding towards the Ravenclaw's side of the classroom.

"Isn't that Namjoon?" you questioned. "Didn't he break all of Trelawny's teacups in the second year?"

"So he's a klutz," Soonjin shrugged. "But he's definitely in Ravenclaw for a reason. The guy's brilliant, trust me. He might be willing to help you out if you guilt trip him enough."

You let out a huff, rolling your shoulders back. "I guess it's worth a shot. I'll talk to him after class."

"Good luck," Soojin muttered.

Luckily there wasn't that much more time left of class before Flitwick dismissed everyone. Soonjin elbowed you to approach the boy, and soon enough you were racing towards him, calling out for him. "Namjoon! Wait, hold up."

He turned back to you, a questioning look on his face. "Uh, hi?" he smiled. "Anything I can help you with?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," you grinned. "Do you think you could tutor me in Charms? I'm currently flunking, and I need serious help."

"Oh? Why me? I mean, no offense, but I don't even know you," he chuckled awkwardly.

"Well, my friend recommended you to me because apparently, you're really smart- especially in Charms. I normally wouldn't bother strangers but you've got a good reputation aside from the whole teacup thing, and also no one else is willing to tutor me since I stuck Soojin to the ceiling back in the first year," you sighed.

"Oh, you're that girl!" Namjoon's eyes widened in recognition.

You grimaced. "Yeah... I am. I understand if you don't want to tutor me in fear of transforming into a balloon or something, but I really need help. At least consider it?"

"I mean..." Namjoon hesitated, then took a deep sigh. "Yeah, sure. Alright."

"Really?" you exclaimed, a disbelieving grin on your face. "You're not scared?"

"Nah, I'm sure it'll be fine. Besides, with the right tutor, you should be avoiding any more mishaps like that."

"Thank you so much!" Without thinking, you throw your arms around Namjoon unapologetically, wrapping around his arms and waist and squeezing as tight as you can, making him groan in pain. You pull back apologetically. "Oops, sorry. I forget my strength sometimes."

"You're pretty strong for someone so... short," he comments, rubbing his arms.

"I'm not that short," you snort. "And my dad's a wrestler. I'm from a Muggle family, and they're pretty athletic. My mom was a fan of my dad's, and when he retired from wrestling they got married. My dad ended up teaching me a thing or two, and as a result, I guess I've got more muscular."

"That's pretty neat," Namjoon nods. "My mom just works in Muggle studies and my dad's a stay at home wizard, so kind of boring in comparison."

"I figured you must have some knowledge on Muggles since you didn't question what a wrestler was," you grin. "Most people look confused when I say that."

"So, what time do you want to begin tutoring?" he questioned.

"As soon as possible. Today if you can, since we've got that big test coming up Friday," you groaned. "Would you mind meeting after classes are done?"

"Yeah, sure. Meet me outside the Ravenclaw common room and I'll let you in. You know where it is, right?" he questioned.

"Yeah. I dated a Ravenclaw last year who'd sneak me into the common room. I'd use the fireplace to play pranks and call Muggles- couldn't use the Gryffindor one in fear of getting traced," you laughed. "Oh shit, I said too much."

"I won't tell," Namjoon laughed, making sure you knew this would stay a secret between the two of you.

You waited patiently outside of the Ravenclaw common room, tapping your foot. You were relieved when you saw the tall figure sauntering over, finally showing up.

"How long have you been waiting?" he questioned.

"Oh, not long," you say. "Suprised I got here before you?"

"Not really, I had to talk to some people beforehand," he mentioned casually, stepping before the door.

"What's the difference between a raven and a writing desk?"

"I hate both," Namjoon shrugged, letting the doorway swing out before him.

"What have ravens done to you? They're kind of part of your house name," you laugh, not questioning the strange riddle as you stepped into the common room, seeing other Ravenclaws about, studying or reading.

"Ironically, when I was 10 one tried to pluck my eye out," Namjoon chuckled.

"Oof. Definitely ironic," you grin. "And the writing desk?"

"I have a horrible habit of bumping into tables."

"Makes sense, I heard you're the clumsy type,"

"Don't tell me, you heard about Trewlany's teacups?" Namjoon groaned, making you chuckle.

"I also heard she predicted it," you cackled. "Between you and me, I don't think she really is that good at her job. I believe in predictions- but not her."

"Don't get me started," he sighed, beckoning you closer. You guys made your way up to the boys' dormitory, and you weren't surprised to know it worked the same way it did for Gryffindor. Soon enough, the two of you had begun studying. Namjoon informed you that his other four roommates were busy- studying in the common room, practicing Quidditch, or hanging out with friends. That helped explain their absence.

Luckily, an hour later, you had only set one of the drapes slightly on fire, and almost lifted Namjoon's shirt (you were disappointed that he fixed that charm quickly).

"Alright, when I cast this jinx on you, your anti-jinx should make it deflect onto me, alright?" he explained.

"How will I know if it worked?" you ask with wide eyes.

"Well, you won't be electrocuted. That's how you'll know it didn't work," Namjoon chuckled.

You were about to protest and request to retry the spell, and just when he raised his wand, the door swung open.

"Hey, Namjoon do you have- ah fuck! I'm not looking, I'm not looking! I'm sorry!" Taehyung quickly covered his eyes. He was one of those Ravenclaws where no one could understand why they were a Ravenclaw- but he was probably smarter than what met the eye. Emotionally and intellectually. It was just his eccentric personality that had people blind to his intellectual possibilities.

"What? We're not having sex!" you say hastily, cheeks burning.

"Oh, thank God," Taehyung sighed, putting down his hands. "I'm so used to walking into girls in Namjoon's bed that it's become instinct to walk into the room with my eyes closed."

Your eyes widen at that, and you send an accusatory stare to Namjoon. He blushes hotly, rubbing his nape as he glares at Taehyung. "He's exaggerating," he informs you, embarrassed.

"Am I, Namjoon? Am I?" Taehyung accuses. He looks at you with a grin, holding out his hand for you to shake. You awkwardly shake his hand, and he leans in to whisper in your ear. "You're too good for him."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, though you definitely doubted it. Namjoon so far seemed too good to be true- he was smart, helpful, kind, and handsome. But apparently, from what you now discovered, he was using that fully to his advantage. Admittedly, the thought unsettled you, and your heart sunk slightly. Which was wrong. After all, who were you to judge?

"We're just studying for Charms. I'm pretty bad, and he's the only one willing to tutor me," you explained.

"She already burned one of the drapes," Namjoon said.

"Not that much! Just a tiny bit," you defend.

"You're that girl who made someone float onto the ceiling?" Taehyung asked with wide eyes.

"It was one time!"

"She's getting better," Namjoon admitted. "She just needs more practice."

"God, at this rate I'll teleport the entire castle into the lake," you groan, lying down flat on the bed, bouncing on the royal blue covers. "Flitwick can already fail me."

"That's quitter's talk. Trust me, you'll do fine," Namjoon said. "It's mainly in your movements and hand gestures."

"I'll leave you guys to it. I just had to get something for Quidditch practice," Taehyung explained. Ah, yes, he was a chaser. He winked at you. "You'll be rooting for us, right?"

"What? As if! You're playing against Gryffindor, we'll kick your ass," you say.

"We'll see about that at the game," Taehyung teased, walking out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

You did end up getting better in Charms. You ended up getting a C in that test, and though that's pretty good for you, Namjoon wasn't satisfied. You continued tutoring until you were acing every test, finally pulled out of the depths of failing, and from tutoring sprung a newfound friendship.

You'd find out over the next two years of your friendship that Namjoon was in fact, a bit of a player. He was smooth talking, and if the girl was particularly swoony, he'd 'give her the night of her life'. You knew he tried to hide it from you, but Taehyung was your main informant, often complaining to you as one of Namjoon's few actual girl friends about his frequent hookups, and how he'd have to be kicked out of his room and such. Your heart sunk with each story, knowing you were friend zoned in a sense- especially since Namjoon never showed the slightest interest in you romantically, but you were content with the friendship and keeping your feelings hidden.

OK, so maybe you cried once or twice over it. No biggie.

But you and Namjoon were close enough to the point where you didn't want some stupid crush to get in the way. Even if it had lasted two years, you convinced yourself that because you were 15 at the time, it was only infatuation.

But did infatuation really last two years?

The two of you were to meet up to support Taehyung during the Quidditch game. Ravenclaw was going against Hufflepuff, and evidently Taehyung had become a close friend along with Namjoon. Except you weren't romantically interested in Taehyung- he was more of a little brother and didn't seem as mature as Namjoon in your eyes.

You went up to the Ravenclaw stadium to meet Namjoon, surprised to see a Slytherin by his side. She was cute.

Too cute.

Jealousy burned at your core, seeing how his arm was wrapped around her shoulders. You forced a smile, and he greeted you with an equally warm one. "Y/N! You're here!"

"I'm always here," you shrug, sitting down next to him. "So, who's your friend?"

"This is Minnie- she's my date for the game. Minnie, this is my best friend, Y/N."

Your heart sunk, and the smile that didn't reach your eyes stayed plastered on your face as you reached over to shake her hand, admiring how pretty she was. "Nice to meet you," she said.

"Likewise," you nodded, resisting the urge to spit the words.

You felt depressed for the rest of the game, watching glumly at the streaks of bronze and blue versus the yellow and black. You could only give half-assed cheers for Taehyung whenever he got a goal. It seemed like he noticed, too, seeing how slumped over you were whenever he glanced at you and Namjoon.

Taehyung knew about your crush on Namjoon, so it didn't take half a brain to realize what had you down in the dumps. Especially when Namjoon and Minnie were looking at each other so adoringly.

It was when Hufflepuff called time to restrategize that Taehyung flew over to the stadium you resided in, hovering in front of you. "Not enjoying the game, Y/N?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"No, no I am," you assured him, wanting to remain polite.

He gave a sideways glance to Namjoon, who was about to say something for the five seconds his attention was diverted from Minnie, and he gave you a mischevious smile. You quirked a brow, knowing from the look on his face that this couldn't be good.

"I know something that'll peak your interests," Taehyung grinned.

You furrowed your brows. "To see you fall?"

"Nope." He leaned in on the end of his broom, meeting his lips with yours. He had his own screwed shut, and your own were blown wide, shocked by the action. Whoops and hollers sounded through the other stadiums, the other students catching onto the bold move. Namjoon was frozen by your side, and you couldn't do much more than gawk at Taehyung.

You weren't able to so much as speak, your jaw dropped open as you stared at Taehyung. He laughed, winking at you as he went to continue the game.

"Er- Y/N?" Namjoon gulped, still stiff. You glanced at him, seeing how tense and awkward he looked. Minnie gave him a look of concern- but right now his eyes were locked on you. "I... I know it's none of my business, but-"

"Yeah, it's none of your business," Taehyung piped as he quickly flew past your stadium. You combed your hair back down as it flew out from your face, frozen stiff, eyes trained on Taehyung. The blur of bronze and blue had a plan- and probably a horrible one at that. But you had no other choice but to keep shut and go along with it. He was the Ravenclaw, after all.

Namjoon also shut up for the rest of the game, not wanting to say another word. No matter how much Minnie tried to coax him to speak or talk to her again, he was silent. Quite unlike him. He seemed a lot more brooding than the usual Namjoon you knew, and you were confused as to why he seemed so bothered. Minnie got so frustrated that she left the Ravenclaw stadium to march to the Slytherin one, reuniting with her friends. It was just you and Namjoon left now.

You glance at him awkwardly, blushing hotly. "I... I'm sorry your date left?"

"Did she?" he questioned, looking over to her empty seat. "Oh, I guess she did."

"Oh." You took a deep breath. "I guess she was upset you weren't paying attention to her. Do you want to go after her? I know where she's sitting. You can continue the date."

"It's fine. I just owed her a date because she helped me with Potions."

Ah, that's right. Namjoon to Potions was you to Charms. Except you were only proficient in Potions, so you guessed that helping him there wouldn't benefit him nearly as much as he did for you in Charms.

"Oh- fuck!" Namjoon shouted, standing up.

You look back to the game, seeing with wide eyes as Taehyung was hit by a bludger by a Beater in Hufflepuff- AKA, Kim Seokjin.

"Taehyung!" you shouted, leaning over the ledge as you watched him helplessly fall the ground. You gawked, seeing everyone flock to the boy where you weren't able to see his body anymore, and your heart thudded in your chest. Your friend just got seriously injured, and today of all days!

You looked to Namjoon, and he looked equally stunned. "Namjoon?" you say weakly, eyes brimming with tears out of fear. "Do you think he'll be ok?"

"I... don't know," the boy admitted.

"I healed all of the broken bones already- don't know why your friend is still making such a fuss," Madame Pomfrey tsked at you. "I suppose you can see him. Maybe then he'll stop his whining."

"Thank you, ma'am," you said, bowing to her as you scurried to Taehyung's bedside.

He gave you a sheepish grin, and he looked just as fine as ever. Madame Pomfrey was easily the best nurse in the entire school- hell, even the entire country. And yet here your friend was, looking pleased as punch, sitting in a hospital bed with the most shit-eating grin you've ever seen.

"The fuck was that!" you said, slapping his arm. "You're fine, dickwad, what's up with you staying in the infirmary? I think you've insulted Madame Pomfrey."

"It's the only place I could talk to you without Namjoon sneaking in. I knew that since they probably think we're dating now, they'd let you in already," Taehyung chuckled.

"Oh, how Ravenclaw of you, thinking ahead," you huffed. "What was up with that kiss anyway? You know I like Namjoon."

"It's tiring seeing you two! It's like some sitcom, and I just want it to end already," Taehyung groaned. "Someone needed to speed things up a bit. It's our last year and the two of you still aren't a thing yet."

"I'm sorry, I fail to see how you kissing me is going to make Namjoon suddenly return my feelings," you say, crossing your arms across your chest as you glared at your friend.

"Y/N, I know you're no Ravenclaw- but don't tell me you're that stupid."

"What's that supposed to mean?" you ask, insulted.

"Did you really not see how jealous he was?"

"I think he was just in shock because you kissed a girl- he probably thinks you're gay," you snort. "Not that anyone would have a problem with that, of course."

"Very funny," he glared. "Y/N, he wouldn't have looked so stiff and uncomfortable if he wasn't jealous."

"I don't know what world you're living in, Tae, but generally anyone's uncomfortable when people are kissing in front of them," you snort. "Why do you think everyone gets so uncomfortable and squeamish during a movie in theaters?"

"A what in what now?"

"Forgot you didn't have those," you sighed. "My point is he's probably not jealous."

"That's where you're wrong," Taehyung grinned. "If he weren't jealous, and we were just two friends who happened to kiss, he would've looked away. That's regularly uncomfortable. But he was glaring and stiff and most importantly didn't look away. He's jealous!"

"Maybe that bludger hit you too hard in the head," you sigh, pressing your hand against his forehead. "You're making no sense."

"You kids are cute," he grinned, pinching your cheek like an annoying aunt. "Just wait- you'll see."

"See what?"

"Just don't be surprised when you're getting the scolding of your life later on."

"Don't tell me you gave me herpes or something."

"You'll thank me later!"

"For herpes?! Oh no, you really did give me them!" you said, feeling light-headed already.

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "Yeah- no. Now run along, and tell your future children Uncle Tae is the one to thank for their existence."

Maybe Ravenclaws shared some sort of wavelength- like telepathy or something. They were known for their genius brains, after all. But what had you thinking about this was when Namjoon stomped up to you in the middle of a crowded hallway, grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you outside to a secluded area. His grip on your wrist hurt, and the entire time you were muttering 'ow ow ow ow' and trying to pry him off.

It wasn't until the two of you were behind an oak tree that he looked you in the face- and surprisingly, he was pissed.

"When'd you and Taehyung begin dating?" he asked, fuming.

You gawked, sputtering at him. "I- wait, hold up, what?!"

"Oh come on, don't act coy. You two are my closest friends but I'm surprised he'd keep this away from me," he said, closing you in and pressing his hands against your shoulders, pinning you to the tree. You could feel the bark dig in through your uniform, and you winced- not at the pain from the bark, but from Namjoon's piercing glare. "Taehyung's a smart ass- though this is rather low of him. But I'm surprised you'd do this."

"What?" you ask, furrowing your brows.

"I can't believe I'm saying this." Namjoon took a deep breath, stepping back as he began to pace back and forth in front of you. Finally, he stood before you, staring you in the eye. "I know you like me."

Your cheeks turned as crimson as the red on your tie, and you could do no more than flush at his words. "Oh..."

Namjoon gulped. "Y/N, I-"

"Look," you say, pressing your hands against his chest to hold him back. "I get it. I'm not the most subtle person in the world. I've had feelings for you for, what, two years? Ever since I've known you. And I get that you were trying to spare my feelings by letting me think that my secret or whatever isn't known- but please, don't. You really should've just told me, as ironic as that is coming from me. I would've gotten the hint and moved on quicker if you did. You should've just rejected me the moment you found out instead of letting me pine after you for all this time."

Namjoon's eyes widened at your words. "Y/N, you're misinterpreting all of it."

Tears had begun to brim your eyes at your own words, and you wiped them away, trying not to choke on your own words as you continued to stare him in the eye. "Am I really?"

"Yes," he said, leaning in. "Y/N, I like you."

You shoved him away. "Bull fucking shit!" you say, surprised by your sudden outburst. "What about that date you had earlier today at the game?"

He blinked at you, and suddenly he began laughing. You glared at him, fuming and frustrating about what he could possibly find so amusing over this situation.

"What?" you demand, crossing your arms. "What's so funny?"

"You're such a Gryffindor."

"What?!"

"Y/N, the reason I never asked you out is that I knew that you're the one who would've wanted to be the brave one in this scenario- hell, it took me forever to even tell you that I knew just now. If I had approached you head on you would've felt- I dunno, scared? Unsettled?"

"I-I... I guess." Now that you thought about it, you probably would've been shocked immediately and run the other way if he had been straightforward. You liked being the straightforward one if anything.

"I was waiting to let you do it- I knew you needed time, and I was patient. So Taehyung suggested I take out his friend Minnie- and I typically trust his judgment since he knows you very well, and he said it'd speed things up. Something about you needing to figure out your feelings."

"That little bitch!" you blurt. Taehyung should've been a Slytherin with how sneaky he could be. That little snake.

"Well, I think I let my mind wander for a bit too long since when he kissed you I assumed he was trying to win you over and betraying me even though he knew my feelings," Namjoon admitted.

"Don't tell me- getting hit by a bludger was also part of his plan."

"I think that part was just from him not paying attention."

You can't help but smile at that, and you feel bubbly in your chest. "So... you like me, huh?"

"Why do you think I stopped sleeping around so often after I began tutoring you?" he grinned.

"Because I was constantly in your room, wrecking everything with my terrible charms, acting as a notorious cockblock?" you guessed.

"No, because I would've much rather have you in my bed instead," Namjoon grinned.

You pulled him closer, finding the Gryffindor in you as you held him in your embrace. "Shut up and kiss me, idiot."

He didn't need any further instruction, pressing his lips to yours as he pinned you against the tree. Your breath hitched as you buried your fingers in his locks, wondering why the two of you were so stupid as to wait so long for this.

You feel his hands run up your sides, careful to remain respectful. You decided in a  moment of impulsiveness to grab his hands, sliding them beneath the hem of your shirt and all the way up to the cloth of your bra.

Namjoon froze, pulling back. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly, hesitant.

"I've been waiting two years for this," you say, guiding his hands up beneath the fabric to cup at your breasts. "Someone has to be the brave one here."

All he could do was bury his face in your neck, sending his vibrations through a throaty groan as he pressed himself against you, rubbing against you sensually. You lifted your crotch to reach his as he began to grind against you, dry humping you against the tree.

"Fuck," you muttered, tugging on his tie as you began to loosen it. He was blindly sucking against the soft spot on his neck.

"W-Wait, should we do this outside?" you say, eyes wide. "Shouldn't we go up to your dorm?"

"All of my other roommates are probably inside from what I know. Besides," he said, delivering a harsh thrust that made you gasp, gripping him tightly as he bit down on your shoulder. "I need to be inside you."

"I need it too, Namjoon," you confessed, groaning at the sensation.

"I need to stretch you out first," he mumbled, hands snaking from underneath your bra to slip into the waistband of your skirt, diving into your panties. His fingers ran along your sopping folds, running over the slit. "You're so wet," he whispered, voice low and raspy.

"Please hurry," you whispered, anxious that someone might walk in on the two of you. You may be in a secluded area, but of course, there was always a risk of getting caught.

He didn't waste time, two fingers immediately entering you, crooking into the rough patch. You arched your back as he kept searching, thrusting his fingers against you. His palm dug into your clit, and you couldn't help but clasp your thighs around his hand at the sensation.

He slipped his hand out from your skirt and panties, and you whined at feeling empty. You yelped, shrieking loudly when his hand collided with your mound, and instinctively you bit your lip. "Spread your legs," was all he rasped.

You obeyed, and he ran his hand back up your thigh, going back to your mound to rub you through your panties. You looked at him with an equal amount of want, bucking your hips against his hand. "Namjoon, please stop teasing," you begged quietly.

"Are you ready?" he asked, hesitant.

You nodded eagerly. Without further reluctance, he shucked his pants off, and you slipped your panties down your ankles, turning around and flipping your skirt over to reveal your ass. Namjoon didn't hesitate, and you felt the head of his cock rub along the folds of your pussy before entering you with one slow, fulfilling thrust.

You both groaned at the feeling, and soon enough he began pumping into you, and the palms of your hand dug into the bark of the tree. You prayed no one would investigate the sound of slaps and suppressed groans, and if you were in your right mind perhaps you would've used a useful charm to keep the two of you eerily silent.

But your mind was so hazy that the only thing you could focus on was the feeling of Namjoon's dick diving in and out of you, and how his hand snaked in front of you and between your thighs to rub your clit.

It didn't feel like some mindless fucking. It felt fulfilling- you felt full. Here was the man you were in love with for about two years, and finally you could truly feel him inside of you.

It wasn't until he raspily groaned your name into your neck before sinking his teeth in to leave a mark that you realized how close you were.

"N-Namjoon," you warned. "I'm gonna cum."

"Are you?" he asked, thrusting into that sweet spot as he rubbed you harder. "Cum all over my cock, baby."

That's all it took to push you over the edge, and soon enough you were cumming all over his dick. You were breathless and panting, tired and worn out as he slipped out of you. You turned around, quick to get on your knees and suck him off as harshly as you could until he was cumming down your throat.

He pet your hair as you cleaned him up, tongue running along his cock as he shivered from oversensitivity. "You're so pretty," he mumbled, looking at you adoringly.

You smile, coming back up to press a chaste kiss against his mouth, staring at him with all the love you could muster. "So, are we dating?"

"Don't you think we did things in the wrong order?" he laughed, holding you in his arms.

"I think of it as catching up for lost time," you grinned, kissing him again. Internally you were thinking about how you would really have to thank Taehyung after all of this.

#namjoon #namjoon smut #harry potter #hogwarts au #hogwarts!au #ravenclaw #gryffindor #bts smut #rap monster #rap monster smut #rm #rm smut #bts rm #bts namjoon

[snowdice]

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 68]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Had an early doctor’s appointment today so I’m tired, and the tests done made things feel worse, so idk how long this is going to go, but I want to get at least a bit of my work done. Also brain is not running at full capacity... so if I just disappear it means I forgot I was doing something, laid down, and fell asleep and/or zoned out.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

 “Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

 Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

 “How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

 “Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

 Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

 It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

 Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

 He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

 “I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

 “You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

  Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

 “He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

 “I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

 Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

 The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

 “No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

 “How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

 She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

 “Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

  Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

 “Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

 “Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

 “Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

 “A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

 “No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

 Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

 Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

 Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

 “Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

50234

Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

  Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

 Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

 “Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

 “Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

 “Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

 Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

 Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

 This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

 The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

 Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

 “Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

 Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

 “Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

 He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

 “It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

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“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

  Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

 “It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

 It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

 Frowning, he pulled at the blanket around his shoulder so he could wrap it and his arm around the lump that was Virgil. He brushed the boy’s hand when he did so and found it was like ice.

“You’re freezing!” Logan said. “How long have you been by the window?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Logan was already tugging at him. “You need to get back in bed,” he said.

Virgil obeyed the pulling at his arms even as he frowned. “I’ve been colder than this before,” he said.

“That actually doesn’t make me feel better,” Logan replied dryly as he shooed him towards the bed.

 He took the thicker blanket that usually stayed folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over Virgil before climbing into bed beside him.

“There,” Logan said, rubbing Virgil’s arms through the fabric of the sweater he wore to bed. He was glad he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt at least. “The runes for heating the castle should catch up within a few hours, but until then this should do. Assuming we don’t sit by the freezing window for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I don’t like the cold,” Virgil told him.

Logan sighed. “Then why did you sit by the window?”

 Virgil shrugged and ducked his head a bit. Logan reached out to grab his hands to help him warm more but was surprised when one of the hands was much warmer than the other. He found his fingers were clutching a crescent shaped stone: the protection charm they’d made. Logan knew that he kept it in his pocket most of the time, but he didn’t normally see him holding it like this. It was warm to the touch, of course, indicating the safety of the room around them.

Logan looked over his face. “Are you…” he said. “Scared of the snow?”

 “I don’t like the cold,” he said once again.

“You’re scared of the winter,” Logan concluded. He looked at Virgil who was far too small for his age and seemed surprised at every casual act of kindness. It was clear that his basic needs were far from being met before he came here. Logan had to wonder what winter usually meant for him. His experiences were doubtlessly very different from Logan’s own. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged, “but you don’t need to be scared of it here. The castle is always perfectly warm and safe in the winter and Mr. Deknis and Ms. Heart work hard during the other seasons to make sure we have plenty of food. There is nothing to fear here.”

 He did not seem convinced.

“You don’t even have to go outside if you don’t want to,” Logan promised. “The castle is plenty big if you’d like to stay inside all winter long. It was made for the winter even without the magic devices that keep it warm. We have fireplaces and well insulated rooms even if those that ends up failing.” Logan pulled open the hand that had the protection charm just to transfer it to his other hand to warm it. “Though, while no one would force you to go outside, the snow isn’t always bad.”

“Yes it is,” Virgil said, his voice sure.

 “Not all the time,” Logan insisted. “Some people love the snow.”

“They’re stupid.”

Logan laughed. “It can be fun for a while with the right equipment if you have someplace to get warm again afterwards. Royal duties slow down during the winter and Patton tends to come up with all sorts of games for both the inside and the outside to pass the time. He’s particularly proficient at snowball fights, at least against me.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Play fighting,” Logan answered. “Like pillow fights, but snow.”

“I’ll stick with the pillows,” he replied.

“And then there’s a hill to sled down on the western side of the castle, and people like to build snowmen along the path.”

“What are snowmen?” Virgil asked.

 They’re temporary statues made out of packed snow,” Logan explained. “Typically, they’re made of three different sized balls of snow: the largest being the base and the smallest the ‘head’ though there are some variations. After building them one typically decorates them with different articles of clothing and objects found lying around. It’s usually sticks and rocks for the face and then things like extra hats and scarfs for decoration.” He smiled softly. “When my Pa was alive, we used to steal my Dad’s crown and fanciest robes. Sometimes Pa would steal it right off of Dad’s head and we’d run away. We’d find a secluded area of the castle yards and build the biggest snowman we could as quickly as we could before we got caught. He’d usually end up letting us keep the robes, but we’d have to give the crown back since some of the metals in it would rust when wet.”

 “That sounds…” Virgil’s nose twitched. “fun if you take away the touching snow part.”

Logan laughed. “It is fun,” he said. “Even with the touching snow part. Though, I admit that some of the ability for it to be entertaining does come from the fact that we could warm up afterwards with ease. You’ll enjoy Patton’s mother’s constant offering of hot chocolate during the season even if you never go outside, I’m sure.”

“Hot chocolate?” Virgil asked intrigued. His dark eyes shone brightly in the little light coming through the window. It was clear he could guess something about the drink just by the name and enjoyed the implications.

 Logan smiled fondly. “It is a hot drink,” he explained. “It’s a warm drink made out of milk and chocolate. I can get you some to try in the morning.”

Virgil nodded, eyes still wide with interest.

“For now, we should sleep though,” Logan said. “Are you warm enough? I can get more blankets.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Logan said, reaching up and adjusting the blanket over them once more, tucking it around Virgil a little bit for good measure. “Goodnight Virgil,” he said.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly. Logan reached under the blankets to grab the hand that was still slightly chilly from the window between his own. Virgil’s eyes slipped closed after a moment as he nuzzle his face into the pillow. At some point they both drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 36

Thomas had already been well aware that winter was on the way, but he and the rest of the castle occupants had been surprised at how intensely and suddenly it had come on. Most things were ready for the winter, but not all of them had been initiated. The fireplaces that took some pressure off the castle heating runes were cleaned out and ready, but they hadn’t been started yet. The stables for different animals on the grounds had been checked over and staff assignments had been made, but most were still in far out fields. Staff that went home for the winter months had been dismissed, but there were a few stragglers that would have to be helped home before things got worse.

 He’d gone out to the main stable to talk to the three workers that were the heads of different areas of animal husbandry to make sure a plan to get everything to where it needed to be soon was in place. It took a while to figure out considering that they’d expected a little more time before the first major snowfall. Thomas also asked them to make sure all of the workers’ homes were in good enough condition for the weather. Ranch hands typically had homes on castle grounds but not in the castle themselves since they needed to be close to the animals. Thomas knew at least half a dozen of those who spent most of their times out in the fields were the type to forgot to maintain their homes because they preferred camping amongst the animals in the summer months and then would be in for a bad time when snow began to fall.

 There should be enough extra rooms in the castle if they needed a place to stay until repairs could be done.

Those conversations took a good couple of hours, before Thomas was satisfied. Before trudging back to the castle through the still falling snow, he made a point to stop at one specific horse stall in the main stable. The horse turned his head to see Thomas when he stopped in front of his stall and puffed out a rather disaffected snort before sticking his head over the gate so Thomas could pat his nose. “Hello, Mr. Apples,” Thomas said.

 The horse seemed to conclude he’d tolerated Thomas’s petting enough and ducked his head to nudge at his torso. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I brought you an apple. Some things never change.” He reached into his pocket to grab the red apple he’d brought the white Arabian. “At least you don’t bite me anymore.” He paused, apple slice in hand and eyed the horse’s nose suspiciously. “Do not bite me,” he said even though he hadn’t felt the animal’s teeth in a decade. It would be just like Mr. Apples to wait until his guard was down.

 After a bit of scrutiny, he offered an apple slice. It was snatched out of his hand and there was a loud crunch as it was bit into.

“It’s snowing out,” he told the horse. The horse seemed to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “I’ll remind again that if you run out in a snowstorm, I’m not running after you, so you’d be out of luck.”

Mr. Apples snorted.

“You’re old now. You’d probably not survive long enough for people to find you. Besides, you blend in with that white fur of yours. They’d probably walk right past you a few times.”

 He went back to nosing for treats as soon as he finished his first and Thomas sighed, pulling out another apple slice. “What are they not feeding you enough?” The gusto with which the horse snatched the apple slice was a very clear answer. “Well, we both know that’s not true.” Thomas fed the horse a third slice of apple when he was done with his second. “I have to get back to the castle now. Don’t be a devil horse.”

Mr. Apples threw his head a bit, splattering apple smelling foamy spittle all over Thomas’s front.

“Understood. Have a nice afternoon.”

 He left Mr. Apples in his stall then, knowing he’d be well cared for no matter how ill-tempered he could be at times. He’d been a king’s horse once, after all, no matter that said king had been dead for more than a decade now.

Winters were hard.

Winters were the times when things always slowed down at the castle, where royal duties were often thin. There were a lot of memories in winter.

The trip back to the castle was not particularly long, but it was also not particularly pleasant. The snow had not been cleared away considering it was still snowing which meant his feet and legs were wet and cold by the time he made it to the nearest castle door.

 He wasn’t sure if, when he entered, the castle heating runes had started to work in earnest or if he’d just been so cold that any measure of warmth was appreciated, but he was relieved to be out of the snow either way.

He decided to check up on the progress of the castle staff lighting the fireplaces. With any luck, they’d be lit already, and he could warm up even more. That in mind, he headed towards the main foyer where the largest fireplace in the castle sat to take off the chill brought in by the large front doors.

 The main foyer was bustling with activity when he snuck in along the sides, giving the guards stationed around nods as he passed. The main fire in the room was burning brightly, though only one of the two smaller ones near the side exits from the room was lit. The other one was still being set up with safety mechanisms. It was good progress and assuming other areas of the castle were being set up as efficiently, he assumed they’d all be set up by nightfall.

He’d need to go check around to be sure, but for now, he walked up to the main fireplace to warm his hands.

 He’d gotten into the habit when he was younger to every so often glance upwards. There had been a certain stable boy who had a propensity for climbing trees. These days, he usually found nothing when he did so, often not even consciously noticing that he’d turned his gaze momentarily skywards. Yet, today, he was startled out of his own idleness by dark brown eyes looking back at him from a small ledge in the shadows high above him.

He froze as he met the young boy’s gaze. Virgil seemed as surprised to be caught as Thomas was to have caught him.

 Slowly Thomas raised one hand and waved to the boy. He slunk back into the shadows at the acknowledgment. If Thomas peered hard enough, he could see a shadow stretch up towards the third-floor balcony in the darkness and disappear over the railing.

Interesting boy.

Thomas found himself smiling despite the oddity. They still had not found out much about Virgil. He would speak to Jeffers about many things apparently, but often could not be redirected to invasive topics and he was still a bit skittish around Helen. He hadn’t willingly existed in a room with Thomas. Thomas hoped that changed at some point. There was something about him that made Thomas like him.

  Chapter 37

Virgil had not spent a lot of time out of Logan’s room. What little time he had spent outside of it was either with Patton and/or Logan or tucked away in secret corridors he found in the walls where no one would stumble upon him. Yet, here he was willingly in a, well, not public by any means place, but one that was still more exposed than he was used to being in. Somehow, he was managing to not care at all.

It was helped by the fact that both Logan and Patton had been in the room at the start, but they had gone off to go… somewhere. Food sounded like it might have been the reason.

 He liked food, and usually he would have been all for going to get some, but between them promising to bring him back some and the fact that he was never going to move ever again, he’d decided to stay.

Princess Marisol seemed to be the only other rational being in the whole castle because she had also not moved since discovering the contents of this room. She was currently laying on his chest purring happily.

The fireplace was a wonderful invention. Now, Virgil had, of course, warmed up by a fire before when it was cold, but this was much different. There was a grate that blocked off the fire a bit keeping it from burning the person in front of it and there was a plush rug right by it, perfect for laying down on. Someone had known what they were doing when designing this room.

 He didn’t even care that the king had access to this sitting room as well as Logan.

…

Okay, so he did care a little bit, but he was ignoring that. He was probably busy this time of day anyway, right?

…

He really didn’t want to run into him after being caught watching the castle workers set up the bigger fireplaces. Kings probably didn’t like people sneaking around watching things from the shadows even when they didn’t know that the person sneaking around was literally sent to kill them.

Princess Marisol must have had a sixth sense for his anxieties (or he’d just started breathing faster and disturbed her) because she stirred a bit.

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She started up a calming purr as she moved to gently kneed his chest. “That sort of hurts,” he noted idly as she dug her little paws into his sternum. She responded by purring more. He moved his arm to scratch behind her ear.

Virgil still was feeling a little bit anxious about the fact that he was out in the open, though he very much did not want to leave the room with the nice fire, and Patton and Logan would be back soon anyway. He should find some way to distract himself, and, well, the best way to distract himself was to investigate his environment, and it had the added benefit of making him feel safer.

 He carefully turned to his side to gently deposit Princess Marisol on the rug. She gave an insulted ‘mew,’ but quickly forgot her ire to sprawl across the ground with her belly to the fireplace. Virgil got to his feet and eyed the room as a whole.

It was fancy, to be sure, but a lot more homely than he’d expect to be in the royal wing. Logan’s bedroom was much more extravagant than this. It was closer to what he’d expect in the home of a financially stable, but not well-off family’s home both in contents and décor.

 There was a nice, but older looking couch that was probably older than Logan, perhaps even older than the king. It was huge though and comfy looking. It had two chairs that weren’t quite matching but were close enough and a table in front of it that had slightly chipped wood. A seemingly random set of pillows was on it, none quite matching the rest, but all sort of earthy browns and greens. There were bookshelves stuffed with books of all different shapes and sizes, and a giant painting of a turkey of all things over the fireplace. The fireplace itself was probably the fanciest thing in the room.

 Most of the fireplace was made out of bricks, though it had a wooden outline a good distance from the fire, and there was an ornate iron grate in front of it with pretty little leaf designs. On top of the mantle were little figurines that grabbed Virgil’s attention. They were small little wooden things carved into animals. Some were painted and some left the wood to be exposed. There were a good number of horses, but there were also things like rabbits and birds. There was even a few creatures Virgil did not recognize himself. They ranged in size from only about as big as his thumb to about as big as his hand.

 He leaned closer to take a better look at them, careful to keep his legs away from the hot iron grate, though he could still feel the intense heat from how close he was. He did not dare touch them. The room may seem like it did not belong in a castle, but it still was in one, and who knows how expensive or important the little figures were.

He settled his chin on the edge of the mantel, getting as close to the decorations as he dared, his eyes locked on a little robin that had been painted orange and grey with a bright yellow beak and eyes that almost looked alive.

 He spent a good minute staring at the wooden creature, before finally drawing back.

“They’re nice, aren’t they?” a voice asked, and Virgil just about jumped onto the ceiling, but there weren’t any good footholds, and the ceiling wasn’t very high besides and wouldn’t give much cover. “And that is why I waited until you stepped back,” the same voice said and perhaps it sounded a bit amused, but Virgil was not focusing on that.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, cringing back. Why did he always have to be screwing something up when the king came upon him. Why did the universe hate him?

 “Oh, it’s okay,” the king said. He was still by the door, having only paused outside of the room instead of coming in. “You weren’t doing anything wrong.”

He certainly had been doing something wrong even if he was allowed to get that close to little things that seemed so fragile (which he almost definitely wasn’t) or be in one of the royal rooms without Patton or Logan in sight. Virgil had come here to kill this man even if he didn’t know it. He was an assassin in one of the private royal chambers. If the king had any idea, Virgil would be dead

 He made as though to take a step into the room, but he paused when he saw Virgil take a step back and grimaced. “I’ll, uh, just be going,” he said. “You can stay. You can look at the figurines all you want.”

Virgil looked at the man’s feet and didn’t say anything. He hoped he didn’t take that as an insult.

“Okay,” the king said. “Goodbye.”

He walked off then, likely to his own private room. When the footsteps faded, Virgil bent down to pick up Princess Marisol, who meowed her complaints at being pulled from the fire. He snuck quietly back into Logan’s room.

Logan and Patton found him in the closet 10 minutes later.

  Chapter 38

It was a bad day for Virgil. Now, Virgil had been skittish for the past few days ever since Patton and Logan had left him half asleep on the sitting room rug and came back to him crammed into a closet with Princess Marisol for company. He hadn’t told them what had happened, but obviously something had, and he’d been jumpy ever since. However, today seemed even worse.

The snow outside had only gotten thicker in the last few days since the first snowfall, and it had put Virgil’s anxieties through the roof. Often literally.

This morning, Logan had a meeting with his Dad, and so it was Patton’s job to coax the boy out of his closet. He’d reportedly slept in Logan’s bed but had stalked off to huddle in on himself in the closet as soon as Logan had had to get up.

 Patton entered Logan’s bedroom to a greeting meow from Princess Marisol. She, at least, was still in bed, happily perched on Logan’s pillow. “Oh, sweetie,” Patton said. “You know Logan doesn’t like cat hair on his stuff. She just purred happily, and Patton didn’t bother to push the issue any further. Instead, he turned to the closet.

He tapped twice. “Hey, Virgil, honey. Are you in there?” he asked, though he already was fairly certain of the answer.

There was a pause and then Virgil called back. “Yeah.”

“Can I open the door?”

A longer pause.

“Can I open the door long enough to join you in there?”

#proofread stories #not writing

[whenfrasermetbeauchamp]

To my annoyance, I lacked several of the herbs I needed for the sleeping tonic I had in mind. But then I remembered the man Marguerite had told me about. Raymond the herb-seller, in the Rue de Varennes. A wizard, she had said. A place worth seeing. Well, then. Jamie would be at the warehouse all the morning. I had a coach and a footman at my disposal; I would go and see it.

A clean wooden counter ran the length of the shop on both sides, with shelves twice the height of a man extending from floor to ceiling behind it. Some of the shelves were enclosed with folding glass doors, protecting the rarer and more expensive substances, I supposed. Fat gilded cupids sprawled abandonedly above the cupboards, tooting horns, waving their draperies, and generally looking as though they had been imbibing some of the more alcoholic wares of the shop.

“Monsieur Raymond?” I inquired politely of the young woman behind the counter.

“Maître Raymond,” she corrected. She wiped a red nose inelegantly on her sleeve and gestured toward the end of the shop, where sinister clouds of a brownish smoke floated out over the transom of a half-door.

Wizard or not, Raymond had the right setting for it. Smoke drifted up from a black slate hearth to coil beneath the low black beams of the roof. Above the fire, a stone table pierced with holes held glass alembics, copper “pelicans”—metal cans with long noses from which sinister substances dripped into cups—and what appeared to be a small but serviceable still. I sniffed cautiously. Among the other strong odors in the shop, a heady alcoholic note was clearly distinguishable from the direction of the fire. A neat lineup of clean bottles along the sideboard reinforced my original suspicions. Whatever his trade in charms and potions, Master Raymond plainly did a roaring business in high-quality cherry brandy.

The distiller himself was crouched over the fire, poking errant bits of charcoal back into the grate. Hearing me come in, he straightened up and turned to greet me with a pleasant smile.

“How do you do?” I said politely to the top of his head. So strong was the impression that I had stepped into an enchanter’s den that I would not have been surprised to hear a croak in reply.

For Master Raymond resembled nothing so, much as a large, genial frog. A touch over four feet tall, barrel-chested and bandy-legged, he had the thick, clammy skin of a swamp dweller, and slightly bulbous, friendly black eyes. Aside from the minor fact that he wasn’t green, all he lacked was warts.

“Madonna!” he said, beaming expansively. “What may I have the pleasure of doing for you?” He lacked teeth altogether, enhancing the froggy impression still more, and I stared at him in fascination.

“Madonna?” he said, peering up at me questioningly.

Snapped abruptly to a realization of how rudely I had been staring, I blushed and said without thinking, “I was just wondering whether you’d ever been kissed by a beautiful young girl.”

I went still redder as he shouted with laughter. With a broad grin, he said “Many times, madonna. But alas, it does not help. As you see. Ribbit.”

We dissolved in helpless laughter, attracting the notice of the shopgirl, who peered over the half-door in alarm. Master Raymond waved her away, then hobbled to the window, coughing and clutching his sides, to open the leaded panes and allow some of the smoke to escape.

“Oh, that’s better!” he said, inhaling deeply as the cold spring air rushed in. He turned to me, smoothing back the long silver hair that brushed his shoulders. “Now, madonna. Since we are friends, perhaps you will wait a moment while I attend to something?”

Still blushing, I agreed at once, and he turned to his firing shelf, still hiccupping with laughter as he refilled the canister of the still. Taking the opportunity to restore my poise, I strolled about the workroom, looking at the amazing array of clutter.

A fairly good-sized crocodile, presumably stuffed, hung from the ceiling. I gazed up at the yellow belly-scutes, hard and shiny as pressed wax.

“Real, is it?” I asked, taking a seat at the scarred oak table.

Master Raymond glanced upward, smiling.

“My crocodile? Oh, to be sure, madonna. Gives the customers confidence.” He jerked his head toward the shelf that ran along the wall just above eye height. It was lined with white fired-porcelain jars, each ornamented with gilded curlicues, painted flowers and beasts, and a label, written in elaborate black script. Three of the jars closest to me were labeled in Latin, which I translated with some difficulty—crocodile’s blood, and the liver and bile of the same beast, presumably the one swinging sinisterly overhead in the draft from the main shop.

I picked up one of the jars, removed the stopper and sniffed delicately.

“Mustard,” I said, wrinkling my nose, “and thyme. In walnut oil, I think, but what did you use to make it nasty?” I tilted the jar, critically examining the sludgy black liquid within.

“Ah, so your nose is not purely decorative, madonna!” A wide grin split the toadlike face, revealing hard blue gums.

“The black stuff is the rotted pulp of a gourd,” he confided, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “As for the smell…well, that actually is blood.”

“Not from a crocodile,” I said, glancing upward.

“Such cynicism in one so young,” Raymond mourned. “The ladies and gentlemen of the Court are fortunately more trusting in nature, not that trust is the emotion that springs immediately to mind when one thinks of an aristocrat. No, in fact it is pig’s blood, madonna. Pigs being so much more available than crocodiles.”

“Mm, yes,” I agreed. “That one must have cost you a pretty penny.”

“Fortunately, I inherited it, along with much of my present stock, from the previous owner.” I thought I saw a faint flicker of unease in the depths of the soft black eyes, but I had become oversensitive to nuances of expression of late, from watching the faces at parties for tiny clues that might be useful to Jamie in his manipulations.

The stocky little proprietor leaned still closer, laying a hand confidentially on mine.

“A professional, are you?” he said. “I must say, you don’t look it.”

My first impulse was to jerk my hand away, but his touch was oddly comfortable; quite impersonal, but unexpectedly warm and soothing. I glanced at the frost riming the edge of the leaded-glass panes, and thought that that was it; his ungloved hands were warm, a highly unusual condition for anyone’s hands at this time of year.

“That depends entirely upon what you mean by the term ‘professional,’ ” I said primly. “I’m a healer.”

“Ah, a healer?” He tilted back in his chair, looking me over with interest. “Yes, I thought so. Anything else, though? No fortune-telling, no love philtres?”

I felt a twinge of conscience, recalling my days on the road with Murtagh, when we had sought Jamie through the Highlands of Scotland, telling fortunes and singing for our suppers like a couple of Gypsies.

“Nothing like that,” I said, blushing only slightly.

“Not a professional liar, at any rate,” he said, eyeing me in amusement. “Rather a pity. Still, how may I have the pleasure of serving you, madonna?”

— Dragonfly In Amber

Photos: Starz, Season Two, Episode Two, April 16, 2016

Gif: headoverfeels.com, Season Two, Episode Two, April 16, 2016

Book: Dragonfly In Amber, Diana Gabaldon, 1992

Tumblr: September 28, 2018, WhenFraserMetBeauchamp 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿❤️🇬🇧

WFMB’s Tags: #Outlander #Season Two Episode Two #S2E2 #Not In Scotland Anymore #Dragonfly In Amber #Chapter Eight #I remembered the man Marguerite had told me about. Raymond the herb-seller #Madonna!” What may I have the pleasure of doing for you?! #Claire Fraser #Maître Raymond #83 #092818

#Outlander #Season Two Episode Two #S2E2 #Not In Scotland Anymore #Dragonfly In Amber #Chapter Eight #I remembered the man Marguerite had told me about. Raymond the herb-seller #Madonna!” What may I have the pleasure of doing for you?! #Claire Fraser #Maître Raymond #83 #092818

[randomactuallywrites-57]

Sea Legs

Title: Sea Legs Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count:  Event + Prompt: @reigisaweek day two: Fantasy Pairings: reigisa Summary: Having come from a port town, Nagisa has long since gained his sea legs. Rei, on the other hand, has not.

Notes: Hi! This fic was inspired by my favourite series of JRPGs. As soon as I saw "fantasy", I wanted to write something like this. Still, it doesn't contain any references (save for maybe a very vague one) so please enjoy this as it is!

Also on: AO3

Having come from a port town, Nagisa had long since gained his sea legs. He can spend months at a time on any sea vessel without fear of sickness, free to run around the deck, helping his guild-members out and generally being merry.

As for his newest client, that wasn’t the case.

He was a mage; a city boy, used to a life of worn papers and crowded streets. He relied on the strength of his own mind and feet. He had thus far lived a life of comfort and stability.

Ryugazaki Rei did not belong on a ship.

And yet, here he was.

Nagisa certainly wasn’t complaining. As sickly as the man appeared right now, he was actually rather attractive, with elegant blue hair and wire-framed glasses - something only high-ranking mages and scholars could afford. He insisted on wearing his traveller’s cloak when on the deck, so Nagisa rarely saw him in any other clothes. On the off-chance that they passed each other on the way to their cabins, Rei usually wore sleeping clothes. It had kind of become a personal mission for him to catch Rei without his traveller’s cloak, just to see what he wore underneath.

In any case, right now he looked the same as ever, with his traveller’s cloak hiding his clothes from view as he held a hand over his mouth, skin a light green from nausea. Though his seasickness made him loathe to go onto the deck, he also accepted what literally every guild member had been telling him for weeks - that if he didn’t get fresh air each day, he’d only feel worse.

Nagisa walked away from the edge of the boat, moving toward the centre walls where Rei sat. “I take it your sea legs aren’t working yet?”

Rei looked up and groaned. “Not quite,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry about it Rei-chan,” Nagisa said, sitting down beside the mage and patting his shoulder. “They’ll come with time.”

“It’s been three weeks since our departure,” Rei said with a grim expression. “If they don’t come now, then I don’t expect they ever will.”

Nagisa hummed. It made sense that he would doubt his ability to become used to the sea, especially considering that they didn’t have long left in their voyage to the western continent. Still, Nagisa had hoped that if Rei became used to sea travel, he might want to stay a while longer.

Three weeks ago, Rei barely spoke to anyone in the guild, sticking to his cabin and reading books instead of interacting. In the end, it had been down to Nagisa to slowly bring him out of his shell, until eventually Rei could hold a casual conversation with most of the guild members without trouble. It was Nagisa who spent the most time with him, of course, meaning that they had developed a closer friendship than any of the others had with Rei, or at least, so Nagisa thought.

So close was their friendship, in fact, that a week into their voyage, Nagisa started to feel a pang of pain in his heart at the thought of Rei leaving them. Sure, they hadn’t known each other long, but for the first time, it felt like he had his own best friend in the guild, someone who wasn’t already best friends with someone else. His childhood friends Makoto and Haruka had known each other far longer than they’d known him, so they’d been exclusive from the start. As for the other guild members, whilst Nagisa liked them well enough, they just weren’t close enough to be his best friends.

Then Rei came along.

It wasn’t like Nagisa could do anything to stop Rei from leaving - the entire reason he was on this voyage was to provide services to the King, ones which only his level of magic ability could achieve. Nagisa wouldn’t dare stop him from doing his job. But he sometimes wished that, at the last minute, Rei would ask him to come along, too.

Not that that was likely to happen, given that the job was apparently top-secret. Rei refused to tell him anything besides the vaguest explanations possible. Nagisa’s endless stream of curiosity could never be satisfied.

“Well, you never know!” Nagisa said, trying to wear his usual smile. “A miracle might happen if you believe in yourself.”

Rei shook his head. “If only there was a spell or a potion I could use, even just to ease the nausea a little.”

“Do you not know any healing spells?” Nagisa asked, tilting his head to the side. “I thought you were a mage.”

“I am a mage!” Rei said indignantly. “I specialise in attack and defence magic, not support. Besides, I’m not sure there’s much a healer could do either. Most of their spells are meant to heal wounds, right?”

Nagisa hummed. “But they can cure poison and other inflictions.”

“Not nausea, though.”

It didn’t sound like Rei much wanted to continue this discussion, so Nagisa changed it. “What kind of magic can you do, anyway? Specifically, I mean.”

Rei’s expression became thoughtful, and he looked down at the book he always kept at his side. “Well, it’s mostly earth-elemental attacks with a few fire and non-elemental attacks thrown in there. I don’t do well with water magic, unfortunately, and wind is a tricky one to control.”

Feeling another rush of curiosity, Nagisa turned to face him eagerly. “Show me!”

“Show you?”

“Show me your magic!”

Taken aback by the sudden request, Rei gaped at him for a moment before composing himself. “Very well, if you insist.”

Rei stood  up and took a step forward, flinching when the ship rocked beneath his feet. Then he opened his book, holding it in front of himself and closing his eyes. A magic circle glowed golden beneath him, and the book floated into the air, leaving his hands to hover around it. Then he began chanting an incantation in a language Nagisa could not understand but knew to be one of the most ancient languages in their world, the basis of all magic spells. As he spoke, winds blew around him, whipping his blue hair into the air, moving his traveller’s cloak out of the way so Nagisa could see right underneath it. (A white shirt, black waistcoat and black trousers, and a pocket-watch. Far more formal than Nagisa had imagined, but it suited him very well.

Suddenly, Rei opened his eyes.

Rocks appeared from nowhere, floating around his body like a satellite, a constant state of defence. He looked like a very strange planet.

“Woah!” Nagisa said. “That’s amazing!”

“Thank you,” Rei said, pushing his glasses up to hide his smile. As he did so, the rocks disappeared, and Rei’s clothes and hair settled, his traveller’s cloak snug around him once more. “Though you flatter me. I still have much to learn as a mage, even if I have mastered the basic theories.”

Nagisa was about to open his mouth, to tell him that he was still way better than Nagisa at this kind of stuff-

Except one of his guild members yelled, “Land ho!”

Sure enough, when they looked forward, they saw the silhouette of the capital of the western continent looming ahead of them, the spires of the palace brilliant against the sunset.

“Congratulations, Rei-chan,” Nagisa said, grinning at his friend. “You made it!”

Rei blinked at him, and for a moment Nagisa could convince himself that he looked a little disappointed. “Ah, so we did.”

The next hour or so was spent gathering personal belongings as well as the stock they’d been asked to take across here, along with Rei’s safe passage. With each box he lugged to the deck, Nagisa’s heart sunk a little more, knowing that his time with Rei was almost up. It was possible that they would see each other again, but given that Rei’s experience on the ship had not been a great one, he might find a different way to return to the central continent from whence they had came.

Just as Nagisa heaved the final box onto the deck and Makoto lowered the gangway, he heard a cough behind him. Turning, he found Rei standing there, holding his luggage in one hand and coughing into the other one, his eyes averted.

“Rei-chan?”

Lilac eyes flicked over to him. “Are you staying here long?”

Nagisa blinked a couple of times in surprise. “Er, I’m not sure. Probably only a day or two. Why?”

A flash of something like sadness went through Rei’s eyebrows, making them dip for a moment before he composed himself, dropping his hand and facing Nagisa head-on. “I would be honoured if you would like to meet up before your guild leaves again.”

“Oh!” Nagisa felt a flicker of hope, burning bright inside of a smile which stretches slowly across his lips. “I’d love that!”

Rei’s eyes widened at his reply before softening into a small smile. “I’m glad. Shall we meet here tomorrow, then? If you’re available, that is.”

Nagisa nodded, his blond hair bobbing around his ears. “Yeah, that’s great.”

“Okay.” Rei smiled at him for a long moment, not taking his eyes off of him until his cheeks went pink and he looked down at his feet. “Well, I’d best be off. I’ll see you tomorrow, Nagisa-kun.”

As Nagisa waved him goodbye, he felt his heart soaring into the sky. Quietly, he spoke a few words, meant only for the sea and the mage who was too far away to hear them.

“Guess you found your sea legs, Rei-chan.”

#free! #reigisa #reigisaweek #reigisa week #free! fanfiction #i liked writing this one #i wish it could have been longer but i think it works as it is #also i think it's easy to guess which game series inspired this one lol #given my other current interests #guess what arte i stole from a tales game for this fic #if i could get away with/had the time to write a full free! x tales games au then you know i totally would #the audience would be very minimal i imagine #ngl i've kind of planned a bit of a free! x tov au #and i've seen artists draw a free! x toz au and man that would murder me i love it #i need to stop rambling in the tags

[shadowphoenixrider]

Getting a Room (1/2)

(Nothing to really say about this, except to tag my usual, wonderful ladies: @galleywinter, @sigurdjarlson, @highpriestessbriyanna, @fer8girl and @elfgirl931! Hope you enjoy it!)

“The Hammer of Khaz’goroth.” Khadgar breathed as Mayla Highmountain placed the Pillar of Creation on the pedestal, set aside by the Council in the Chamber of the Guardian. “You say your people have protected this artifact for generations?”

“Yes, until Dargrul’s theft and the death of my father.” Mayla replied. “If not for the skill of your champions, I doubt we would have gotten it back.”

She turned to look at the group of five Horde champions behind her. Draggka, the troll hunter, smiled and bowed her head respectfully to the chieftain, even as she rubbed her raptor Spike’s head, and glanced at her compatriots. Harnaka, the orc shaman, stood on her left, a purple bruise swelling one orange eye shut, and by her side was Cayeli, a blood elf monk who still somehow managed to look poised and immaculate despite the group’s rough adventure and the bruises forming on the glimpses of tanned skin. Standing at Draggka’s right was the contrast of the diminutive goblin priest Tinkerspring; whose personality more than made up the deficit, and the much larger form of the Sunwalker Aiyaona, whose smile was the smallest and most shy of the group, although her eyes told an altogether brighter story.

“When you first set foot upon our shores,” Mayla spoke, “I prayed to the spirits, asking if you could be trusted. By helping to reunite our tribes, you have proven yourselves true friends to our people.” The tauren looked back to the Hammer, now hovering in magical stasis. “For us, the Hammer has always been a symbol of unity, a reminder of our proud history. But in your hands, it will serve a greater purpose.” She looked back to the group. “On behalf of the tribes of Highmountain, I entrust the Hammer to you and your allies. May it strike true at the hearts of the enemy.”

Mayla paused a moment, her ears flicking. “The spirits whisper that our fates are intertwined. My people stand ready to aid you in the war against the Legion.”

Khadgar bowed.

“We are honour to have your support, High Chieftain,” he said, voice soft but strong. “We will guard the Hammer with our lives.”

Mayla’s head tilted forward in a bare hint of a nod.

“I have no doubt of that.” She replied.

“If no-one minds,” Aiyaona suddenly piped up. “Would I be allowed to accompany Mayla back to Highmountain? I-I know she has her own guards, but the Legion...” She trailed off, her brief boldness retreating under everyone’s gaze.

“I would be grateful for your company, Aiyaona.” A slight smile graced the High Chieftain’s lips. “We best return to Highmountain now, in any case.”

“Of course.” The Sunwalker nodded, glancing to her friends. “See you soon.”

“See ya soon, Aiya.” Draggka smiled. “Safe travels.”

The two tauren took their leave, starting a low conversation in Taur’ahe just before they stepped onto the teleporter, and were gone in a flash of magic. Khadgar looked to the rest of the group, one silver eyebrow arched quizzically.

“Aiya’s glad to be among tauren that don’t see her as coming from a tribe of traitors.” Harnaka explained, going to rub at her swollen eye before Cayeli swatted her hand away.

Draggka nodded.

“I don’t be blamin’ her. I not seen her dat happy in a long time. ‘Sides, she be better placed den us to be understanding dem better.”

“Certainly.” Khadgar agreed, glancing to the Pillar of Creation. “One down, four to go.” He grinned widely, one that reached his eyes and made them gleam. “Excellent work, all of you.”

“Tanks.” Draggka grinned back. “Though it be mainly Aiya an’ Tink who got us through dat.”

“Aw, shucks!” Tinkerspring waved her hand in feigned embarrassment, whilst her grin just as wide as Khadgar’s. “But you were fine. Those two, on the other hand...” She pointed at Harnaka and Cayeli.

“It’s not our fault we have to fight in close quarters.” The blood elf huffed, folding her arms. “We have to take it as it comes, not sit around a million miles away and throw pointy sticks at them.” A smirk danced on her lips as Draggka gasped dramatically, eyes wide. “Also let me remind you what your raptor does, whilst you’re out there on your own.”

“Yeah, but he’s actually smart enough to get out of the way of rocks and magma flying in his direction.” The priest commented, before her voice dropped to a serious tone. “You were very lucky Harnie took that blow for you. It could’ve gotten super messy.”

Cayeli glanced to the orc, who smiled broadly at her, despite her obvious wound.

“Yeah. Thank you, Harnie.” The monk smiled back, albeit more shyly.

“No problem.” Harnaka replied, patting her shoulder as gently as the muscled warrior could. “I’d do it again, any time.”

“Ah, hopefully not.” Draggka interrupted. “Tink might not appreciate scraping ya offa da floor all da time.”

“Mana doesn’t grow on trees, you animals.” The goblin sniffed. “And before you say anything, I’ve still got to buy vials to make those potions! Money has to go into them at some point!”

Khadgar chuckled deeply, clearly amused by their banter. Fondness was written all over his face, although Draggka could have swore that...there was a sadness in his eyes...

“I’d prefer all of you to stay alive,” he said. “I’d like not to lose any of the champions that aided me on Draenor.” He looked between them. “Anyway, what were your next moves? As I understand it, you’ve all joined various class orders, and some of you have moved up in the world?”

“Most of us.” Cayeli sighed. “Aiya and I didn’t, though in her case I think it was for the best. I don’t think she would have coped with becoming Highlord of the Silver Hand.”

“You wanted to be Grandmaster of the Order of the Broken Temple?” Tinkerspring asked, raising a surprised eyebrow. “I thought you were averse to power?”

“Well, it would have been nice.” The blood elf admitted. “I can’t deny it. But Chiuza, the draenei who is the Grandmaster, she outclasses me.” She shrugged. “So I haven’t got any problems with her being in charge. Honestly.���

“It’s alright, Cay.” Harnaka smiled fondly, patting her gently on the shoulder again, pulling her slightly closer. “You’ll always be the Grandmaster in my eyes.” The elf’s cheeks seemed to flush red.

“High praise from the new Farseer.” Khadgar spoke, his eyes dropping to the Doomhammer at her side. Draggka noticed, to her surprise, that there was a wary light in his pale blue eyes, and slight tension tightening in his back. “Go’el stepped down?”

“Yeah.” Harnaka glanced at the hammer. “I don’t...exactly feel competent enough to wield it. I mean, I know it responded to me, but...Go’el...I don’t think I could even begin to fill his shoes.”

“Harnie, you’ll be fine.” Cayeli smiled at her, green eyes flickering and the flush completely vanished. “You’re not leading the Horde or anything. Besides, if you can’t fill his shoes, don’t!” She giggled musically. “Why do you think I’m a monk, and not an arcanist like my parents?”

“You’re missing out, you know.” Khadgar said to her, a smile playing on his lips. “But you’re right. You must forge your own path where you can, not just follow others blindly, hoping to live up to them.” A flash of morose sadness flickered across his face, so quick Draggka knew she could have missed it if she’d blinked. The apprentice follows the master, she noted silently.

“Says the wizard who tried to get himself trapped on Draenor a second time.” Tinkerspring smirked, leaning on her staff.

“In my defence, High Priest,” Khadgar grinned widely, “I have closed the Dark Portal twice before. I know what I’m doing!”

“Ya said dat before ya nearly blew me up.” Draggka reminded him, Spike chuffing softly.

“For an archmage, you do tend to be a danger to yourself and others.” Cayeli agreed, folding her arms and raising one long red eyebrow.

“That’s how mages are, Cay.” Tinkerspring interrupted Khadgar as he opened his mouth. “You know how my brother is? Imagine him, but bigger, less green, old as shit, and you get the Old Man here.” The goblin grinned madly as the young-old mage narrowed his eyes at her.

“I’ll remember that.” Khadgar said. “I still don’t know how or why the Conclave chose you as their leader. Did you pay them off?”

“Wow, you’re going there? Wow.” The goblin gasped, laying a hand over her breast. “Honestly though, I don’t know either. That Faol guy seemed pretty convinced about it, though.”

The elder mage blinked.

“Faol? As in...Alonsus...Faol?” He asked, voice faint and disbelieving.

“Yeah, that was his name. He was an old bishop of the Light or something.” Tinkerspring frowned. “Why?”

There was a pause.

“Nothing.” Khadgar shook his head. “Nothing that should concern you. Just the musings of an old man.” He smiled, looking for the world as if he truly was unbothered, but the hunter wasn’t entirely convinced. “Anyway, I’ve kept you champions long enough. I’m sure you all have important things to be getting on with, and I’d be loathe to keep you from them.” He grinned widely. “Especially if that involves fighting the Legion.”

“Don’t worry Archmage, even if we don’t, those demon hunters will do more than their fair share.” Cayeli commented, the others nodding.

“Are you sure we can trust them?” Harnaka asked, glancing between monk and mage. “I mean, they were working with Illidan, and he wasn’t exactly being a good influence on Outland, right?” She looked to Khadgar, who nodded.

“That is true, but the enemy of our enemy is our friend, and in this case, their blades are greatly appreciated.” Khadgar said. “There are few as adept in fighting the Legion as they are, after all. And they seem trustworthy enough.”

He looked to the Hammer, and then back to them, smiling. “Anyhow, well done, champions. Once I have discovered clues to the locations of the other Pillars of Creation, I will let you know, and I’m sure you’ll bring them safely back.” His smile was warm, almost fatherly. “Perhaps the Highmountain  tauren can help you? They know this land better than us. We’ll see. Either way, good hunting, my friends. Keep yourselves safe.”

“We will.” Tinkerspring grinned. “And if they don’t, I’ll at least be around to scrape them up off the floor.”

“We not be that bad, surely?” Draggka grinned at her friend.

“You’re not.” The priest replied, gesturing. “They are.”

Cayeli gasped offendedly.

“How about you do the punching next time, Tinkerbell?” She said haughtily. “We’ll see how easy you find it.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard, I’m very short.” The goblin grinned widely, especially as the monk narrowed her eyes.

“Let’s not be starting a fight here.” Draggka chuckled, glancing the archmage and the tendrils of magic that were starting to drift around his fingers. “Not unless ya wanna end up sheep.”

“It’s alright, Cay.” Harnaka smiled, hip-checking her friend and almost knocking her over. “I’ll protect you and keep you safe, even if Tink won’t.”

The elf’s annoyance faded, and she smiled back at the orc.

“Thank you, Harnaka. You’re...a good friend.”

The orc’s smile widened, her pale orange eyes brighting.

“C’mon, we should get our armour repaired.” She gestured. “You never know when the next scrap is going to happen.”

The other nodded, starting to make a move before Khadgar cleared his throat.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to take up some of the Huntmaster’s time. I have a matter of scouting reports to discuss with her.” He glanced to Draggka, a flash of mischief passing through his eyes for a split second.

The other women glanced to one another, before a grin that stretched from ear to ear appeared on Tinkerspring’s face, and she ushered the others off.

“We’ll catch up later Draggka!” She said brightly, flashing a wink at the pair before she addressed the others. “Lemme heal that eye up for you when we’re waiting. Maybe next time you’ll be a bit more careful!” Any potential response was swallowed as they stepped onto the teleporter, vanishing in a flash of magic.

As soon as they were alone, Draggka felt Khadgar’s hand slide around her waist.

“You were quiet for a while there.” He murmured softly, eyes warm with adoration. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, everyting be fine.” She smiled back at him. “Dey can be a little loud. I don’t mind. We be good friends, and I wouldn’t be trading dem.”

“No.” Khadgar looked back to the Hammer, smiling. “Certainly not. You are all champions of impeccable skill, and we are lucky to have you protecting Azeroth. And you are lucky to have their friendship.”

The troll nodded, absently petting Spike as he brushed by her.

“Yeah.” She looked back to her lover and raised an eyebrow. “So, what be dese ‘scouting reports’ ya want to be talkin’ to me about?”

“Nothing of the sort.” Khadgar grinned mischievously. “I was hoping to spend some time with you before circumstances call you away again.” His grin cooled to a shy smile. “Also I was hoping to show you...show you my quarters,” he said softly, his cheeks flushing red like a schoolboy with a crush. “I, I was thinking it’d be a good place for you to, to relax, w-without anyone seeing us, or, or, bothering you.”

Draggka smiled at his stuttering, feeling her face heat.

“Dat...I like da sound of dat,” she said, her hand brushing over the one on her hip as it slid away. “I guess ya gonna teleport us dere?”

“Of course.” Khadgar replied, lifting his hands as magic swirled around him, filling his eyes with purple-white light. “Wouldn’t want anyone catching us. Come close.”

Spike came to Draggka’s side as the mage spoke, the spell completing moments after. When it had deposited them inside the Violet Citadel, and onto a soft, plush rug, she opened her eyes to take her new surroundings. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this.

The apartment was bigger than she’d imagined, and quite finely furnished, feeling warm and...homely, in a similar way the insides of the keep in Frostwall had felt. Except this felt softer, as if war was barely a distant thought to its resident; comfort was a much higher priority. It had the dark purple tones of the Kirin Tor in some places, but most of it had been replaced in deep reds and darker colours to match. The only Kirin Tor eyes she could glimpse were on discarded correspondence stuffed into corners, or under piles of books scattered about the room.

The room they were currently in had to be what humans called the ‘living room’, carpeted with soft rugs and lined with shelves that held books and other various artifacts, some nicely stacked, others less so. It was windowless, but lit well by lamps hanging from the ceiling, as well from the natural light leaking in from the other rooms. There was a large, red cushioned couch that took up a good portion of the room, a table in front of it, and a pair of equally plush chairs towards a corner of the room. They were positioned by one of the magical fireplaces Dalaran was known for, that produced no smoke (or if they did, the mages found a way to capture and store it somehow).

It was a foreign place to the troll, but she felt very relaxed and secure here. Maybe it was Khadgar that soothed her, or the knowledge that it was his home; either way, she knew she would be as settled here as she was in Frostwall.

“So,” Khadgar cleared his throat, a slight bashful flush alighting his face, “shall I show you around? Or do you just want to sit and rest? I mean, I can always do it later, if you wish? T-The showing around, I mean.”

Draggka glanced down to Spike, who was already wandering from her side, sniffing the air and looking around with intent curiosity, and she chuckled.

“Tink ya better show me around before Spike does.” She grinned, nodding to her companion. Khadgar followed her gaze, and chuckled.

“So I see. Alright then.”

Left off of the living room was Khadgar’s study, which heaved with even more books and magical artifacts and papers of all sorts, like a slightly larger, less tightly packed version of his tower in Draenor. The study window looked out onto the main city of Dalaran, visible from his desk, the wood covered in ink stains. Right off of the living room was the kitchen; small, and with a suspiciously well stocked pantry off to the side. It was clean, though Draggka noted some neglected washing up in the sink, and that the room hadn’t really seen much use recently. She silently vowed to put an end to that, if Khadgar didn’t mind her using it.

The bedroom was north of the living room, and contained a generous double bed that made Draggka smirk; the archmage had blushed and stuttered that all the Council members had big beds for luxury, so they could sprawl if needed, and it wasn’t for consorts and mistresses, honest. There was a generous amount of windows here, one looking over the city and the other looking out at the sky behind the Violet Citadel. A door situated in the far non-Dalaran corner of the room led to the washroom, almost hidden by said wardrobe.

Many books were also scattered about here, as well as it being as equally plush as the room south of it, only this also contained a wardrobe and chests of drawers that made the room look more domestic than the others. It reminded the hunter that it was Khadgar’s refuge, not just the house base of the Leader of the Kirin Tor.

“Nice place ya have here.” Draggka said, when the wizard was finished showing her around. “I like it.”

“You do?” Khadgar’s blue eyes seemed to spark with joy. “I’m glad. I was hoping, well,” he blushed brightly as he led her back to the living room, Spike trotting past his legs to further explore the apartment. “W-Well, that you’d, p-perhaps...”

“Perhaps...?” She prompted.

“...Perhaps...you’d like to stay here? L-Like a second home. I-If you want it.” The archmage glanced away, his blush starting to rival the colour of the couch, and creeping up to his ears. “I-I mean, I know it’s not really your thing, city life, a-and I know Trueshot Lodge is more suited to hunter like yourself, but-”

His stammering was silenced by her gentle finger on his lips.

“Khadgar,” she said, smiling warmly, “I’d love to.”

He blinked.

“You, you would?” When she nodded, he beamed, seeming to lose almost three quarters of his age in seconds. “That’s wonderful! I’ll set you up with a key and make space for your stuff and-” He stopped, frowning. “Bugger. I hadn’t thought how I’m going to move your stuff into here. And I need to-”

“Khadgar, it be fine!” Draggka laughed, grabbing his hands. “It be fine. I don’t be havin’ much to my name, and it already be in da bank or carried wit me anyway, though I were makin’ a place in da Lodge for myself. But I don’t need to be movin’ in all at once. If ya make me a space, I can be leavin’ tings here over time.  Den no-one will be seeing anyting dat makes dem suspicious. No need fer a rush. Da world not be ending ‘cos I don’t be having my stuff here, right?”

Khadgar nodded slowly, absorbing her words.

“Yes...yes, you’re right, my dear. So long as we have each other, materials are, well, immaterial.” He smiled. “Now, sit. Do you want anything to drink? A tea, wine, water?”

“No, I be fine, tanks.” Draggka smiled back, waving the request off. “I just be needing to be getting da weight off my feet.”

“Understandable, what with you going through Deathwing’s old lair in bare feet.” The mage said pointedly as the troll settled onto the couch with a sigh, placing her unstrung bow, quiver and pack to the side.

“It not be like I be standin’ on lava or anyting.” Draggka replied, tucking her feet up under herself, as Khadgar sat beside her. “We trolls be used to it.”

“Somehow.” He commented dryly. A pause. “So. Huntmaster of the Unseen Path.”

“Yeah.”

The mage grinned.

“So? That’s incredible. People are finally realizing that you’re one of, if not the greatest hunter Azeroth has ever seen,” he said. “I’d say that’s an achievement.”

Draggka smiled lopsidedly, a slight flush under her fur.

“Just because dey decided to make me da leader because I be having Allera’s bow don’t make me da best hunter ever. Afta all, dere be other hunters working to get other, legendary weapons to fight against da Legion. I not be special. Just lucky.”

“I disagree with you not being special.” Khadgar replied. “You’re certainly special, in your skill, your personality, just being you. After all, no-one has stolen my heart before.” He grinned at her, eyes twinkling. “But okay, maybe I was exaggerating a bit. Slightly.” His grin cooled to a smile, and he stretched an arm to rest over the couch behind her. “But the last I heard, after you were taken to Trueshot Lodge and made leader of the Unseen Path, you were contacted by one of the Highmountain tauren there. Tell me about what happened, and how you got the Hammer?”

Draggka smiled, leaning into him.

“Sure. So, afta I were inducted into da Unseen Path, and Ohn’ahra appeared in da sky...”

(Next)

#draggka #khadgar #oc/khadgar #world of warcraft #legion au #draggka/khadgar #otp: walk on the wild side #SPRs writing #tinkerspring #harnaka #cayeli #aiyaona grimtotem #dialogue heavy #can you spot the ship forming in the background? #or ships? #cayeli sunflare