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gingersnapwolves · 3 years

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The Untamed, a brief summary [Part 2/6]

Part One: Sword Wizard School

Part Two: The Search for the Yin Iron and the World’s Worst Summer Camp

Ext, Somewhere

Lan Wangji is looking for the yin iron. Wei Wuxian catches up with him and makes some bondage jokes. Lan Wangji is clearly warming up to him, as he doesn’t punt him into the stratosphere.

Jiang Cheng, still incensed that his brother snuck off, goes to look for him. Jiang Yanli packs him a sack lunch and tells him to be careful.

Wen Qing is stuck with Wen Chao, following Lan Wangji, and looks like she wants to throw herself off a mountain.

Ext, Tanzhou [Yiling]

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian run into Nie Huaisang, who apparently decided not to go home after school, presumably due to his grades. Yiling is nowhere near Qinghe. When Nie Huaisang decides to fuck around and find out, he goes for it.

In Tanzhou, there is a magic florist. She has a piece of yin iron, but they’re too late. Wen Chao has already taken it. I will forget that this happened in 90% of my fanfics.

Ext, Dafan Mountain [Yiling]

The three of them end up at a creepy village. There’s a woman mumbling something about a statue. Everyone else is missing except one creepy dude at a shrine to said statue, whose purpose is to give exposition. For some reason they decide to sleep in the weird cave with the creepy statue outside the abandoned village. Kids, amirite?

Ext, Somewhere

Jiang Cheng runs into Wen Qing. She purposefully picks a fight with him and he looks like someone kicked his puppy. But oh ho! It was just a ruse so she could tell him that his brother is in trouble at Dafan Mountain without anyone overhearing. He thanks her and takes off.

Interior, A Creepy Cave [Yiling]

The statue comes alive and attacks them! It keeps going for Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian makes a joke about it having a crush on him. They seal it to keep it from moving.

Outside, a mob of villagers who look the same as the not-a-corpse guy attack them. Nie Huaisang posits that he would like to be excluded from this narrative, of which he never asked to be a part. Wen Qing shows up and uses a magic flute to subdue the mob. She will never use this flute again despite countless times doing so might come in handy. Jiang Cheng turns up too but is too busy roasting Wei Wuxian for running off to do anything useful. Wen Qing tells Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian that the mob is powered by a shard of yin iron that Wen Chao has in his ‘dire owl’ which is a bird made out of shadow that could not possibly look less like an owl.

Wei Wuxian uses a nifty golden net spell that he will never use again despite countless times it might come in handy to protect the others while he and Lan Wangji fight Wen Chao and kill the absolutely-not-an-owl. The villagers are released from the spell.

Wen Qing tells them that this is where she and Wen Ning grew up. The statue had a piece of yin iron in it, and when Wen Ruohan came and took it, the statue went berserk and killed a bunch of people, including her parents. It also stole part of Wen Ning’s soul and that’s why he’s weak and sick. Then she goes back to Nightless City despite that this is clearly a terrible idea, because Wen Ning is there. Jiang Cheng asks her to stay, but she won’t, and Jiang Cheng is sad. Somehow nobody thinks to point out that she’s serving the man who got her parents killed.

Ext, Yueyang [Qinghe]

Somehow they’re all the way up towards Qinghe now. Please don’t ask questions about travel times. It’s my worst nightmare in my fics.

Nie Huaisang says that Meng Yao is meeting them here. Why? Who knows. My best guess is that Nie Huaisang knows he’s going to be in Big Trouble for sneaking off and thinks Meng Yao can protect him.

They stop at an inn. The waiter tells them something weird happened at the Chang house and now nobody’s there but they hear noise every night. The yin iron starts clamoring to be let out of its pouch and gives Lan Wangji heartburn.

Ext, the Chang manor [Qinghe]

Xue Yang has killed every damn person. It’s fucked up.

ENTER SUPERMAN and BATMAN, like seriously, imagine you were in a DC Comic and those two just dropped in for cameos and nobody bothered to explain who they were because they figured you would already know. Their names are Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan, and by the time they show up again, you will have forgotten that.

They’ve been tracking Xue Yang for All the Crimes and want to arrest him. There’s a fight. Xue Yang loses and enjoys it way too much.

Wei Wuxian asks him questions about the yin iron. He acts like a little punk. He doesn’t have any yin iron on him even though he obviously used it for Carnage, and they can’t find it anywhere.

Meng Yao and Nie Huaisang show up. They agree to take Xue Yang back to The Unclean Realm to be tried for All the Crimes.

Xue Yang cheekily says, “Don’t forget me!” to Xiao Xingchen, who immediately forgets him.

Exeunt Superman and Batman, while Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian both stare after them longingly, clearly wishing that they too could hunt monsters and criminals instead of dealing with political bullshit.

Ext, The Unclean Realm [Qinghe]

Meng Yao shows them in and tells Nie Huaisang that the Wen sect has demanded each sect send an ‘inner heir disciple’ for ‘indoctrination’. Nie Huaisang remembers that he’s the only inner heir disciple sect in the Nie sect and panics. Meng Yao laughs at his histrionics. To be fair, they are indeed funny.

ENTER THE WORLD’S MOST BADASS MUSTACHE

This is Nie Mingjue. He is the head of the Qinghe Nie sect. He carries an enormous sword and has the title ‘Red Blade Master’. Every molecule of this man exudes big dick energy.

Nie Mingjue decides to immediately execute Xue Yang. Meng Yao steps in and counsels that maybe execution shouldn’t be their go-to, being rather permanent and all. Xue Yang can give them information and they shouldn’t waste their chance to get it. Nie Mingjue agrees. The others admire the fact that Meng Yao is clever and persuasive, and Wei Wuxian makes a comment about how Meng Yao’s biological father (the head of the Lanling Jin) is an idiot for not realizing he could make use of such a talent.

Nie Mingjue orders Xue Yang put in prison and the guard strengthened. Meng Yao delivers this order to the Captain of the Guard, who decides he’s going to be a giant prick about it. He’s too good to take orders from the bastard son of a whore. Meng Yao puts on his best retail smile and says that he’ll make do.

Meanwhile, the others are discussing the yin iron and the Wen sect’s demand to send disciples. Nie Mingjue says Lan Xichen has written to him and he thinks Lan Wangji should go back to Cloud Recesses. There’s only one piece of yin iron left unlocated and Xue Yang clearly knows where it is, so they’ll take it from here. Wei Wuxian reluctantly agrees that he and Jiang Cheng should probably head home too, to see how their father wants to handle the Wen sect’s demands.

Int, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

Wen soldiers have showed up. It’s bad. Lan Qiren tells Lan Xichen that he should take their most precious knowledge and run away. Lan Xichen tries to argue but Lan Qiren insists.

Ext, The Unclean Realm [Qinghe]

The Captain of the Guard is still being an asshole to Meng Yao, this time while drunk.

Wei Wuxian, also drunk, has decided to sleep on Lan Wangji’s roof like any well-adjusted person would.

Lan Wangji gives him a longing stare and says ‘farewell’ under his breath like the stoic repressed gay he is, before heading back home.

ENTER MINIMUM WAGE REPRESENTATION MAN

The next morning, Wen Chao shows up with his Head Henchman, Wen Zhuliu. He’s clearly there because Wen Chao can’t find his ass with two hands and a flashlight. They demand the release of Xue Yang and grandstand a lot. Nie Mingjue tells them to fuck off.

There’s a big fight, mostly between Nie Mingjue and Wen Zhuliu.

Someone shouts that Xue Yang has escaped. Nie Mingjue makes it to the prison and finds Meng Yao standing there with a sword through the gut of the Captain of the Guard. We all take a moment to wish that we could stab the people who have bullied us. Nie Mingjue, however, does not agree, and is very upset. Meng Yao hilariously says ‘Xue Yang did it’ even though he’s literally got his hand on the hilt of the blade. Nice going, Meng Yao. I spend the next ten months wondering if that was a translation error.

Wen Chao (or maybe Wen Zhuliu? I don’t remember tbh) throws his sword at Nie Mingjue. Meng Yao leaps in front of it and gets lightly stabbed. Then Wen Chao talks a lot of shit about how much the Nie sect sucks and also the Lan sect sucks and his brother has taken men to go burn Cloud Recesses to the ground. Everyone is upset. Wen Chao gallantly agrees he’ll let them off the hook for the day, but if they fuck with the Wen sect again, they’ll regret it.

Nie Mingjue drags Meng Yao inside and they have a messy breakup. Meng Yao tries to explain that the Captain of the Guard was a big douchebag, bullied him for years, and took credit for his accomplishments. Nie Mingjue points out that this was not an excuse to murder him. Because Meng Yao just saved his life, he says he won’t execute him, but exiles him from Qinghe.

Meng Yao bids farewell to Nie Huaisang, who is upset and tries to get his brother to reconsider, but Nie Mingjue is adamant. Everyone seems to forget that Meng Yao just got fucking stabbed. He’ll walk it off.

So who released Xue Yang? This question is actually never answered! Did the captain of the guard do it for some reason, and Meng Yao stabbed him because he caught him in the act? Did Meng Yao do it? If so, why? Did he have nefarious purposes? Or did he do it because he thought it would make the Wen sect withdraw and stop attacking The Unclean Realm? Did the Wen soldiers get to him and let him out? Did Xue Yang just escape on his own? You may believe any canon that you wish. (My personal head canon is generally that Meng Yao released him to try to get the Wen soldiers to withdraw, but I’ve also written some variations.)

Ext, Lotus Pier [Yunmeng]

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian are home. Yay! They reunite with Jiang Yanli. It is cute.

ENTER A PAIR OF EXTREMELY BAD PARENTS

So here’s the tea on the super dysfunctional family that basically drives this whole story. Jiang Fengmian is the head of the Yunmeng Jiang sect. His wife is Yu Ziyuan. He didn’t really want to marry her, mostly because he was in love with another woman named Cangse Sanren. However, the leaders of their two sects were pushing them to marry for alliance reasons. Jiang Fengmian kept refusing, but then Cangse Sanren married a guy named Wei Changze, who was one of Jiang Fengmian’s close friends. Since she was no longer an option, Jiang Fengmian then agreed to marry Yu Ziyuan. They hate each other.

The two of them had two kids, Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng. Jiang Yanli is not a strong cultivator and seems to have some health issues, although these are never detailed. Therefore all the sect responsibilities fall to Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli was betrothed to Jin Zixuan (whose mother was the sect sister of Yu Ziyuan).

Meanwhile, Cangse Sanren is what we call a ‘rogue cultivator’ ie a cultivator who is not formally part of any sect. Wei Changze was a servant at Lotus Pier. They had Wei Wuxian and went to fight evil. When Wei Wuxian was four, they were killed by a monster. He lived on the streets for about three years before Jiang Fengmian found him and adopted him.

Yu Ziyuan is super pissed that Jiang Fengmian adopted the child of the woman he was in love with. She’s also super pissed because Wei Wuxian happens to be a more powerful cultivator than Jiang Cheng. Jiang Fengmian is very indulgent of Wei Wuxian’s behavior because, you know, his parents died, and Jiang Fengmian loved his mother and was friends with his father. Yu Ziyuan constantly accuses Jiang Fengmian of loving Wei Wuxian more than he loves their own son, constantly abuses Wei Wuxian for having the audacity to exist in her home and be a good cultivator, and constantly berates Jiang Cheng for not being as strong as Wei Wuxian and says he’s not going to be a good sect leader. Meanwhile Jiang Fengmian can’t be arsed to reassure Jiang Cheng that yes, he does love him very much. Jiang Yanli basically raised both the brothers which is probably the only reason they turned out as well as they did.

tl;dr this is a super toxic environment for everyone involved

Ext, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

ENTER A MAN WHOSE POSITION IMPLIES HE SHOULD BE IMPORTANT YET PLAYS LITTLE ROLE IN THE STORY

Wen Xu, the first son of Wen Ruohan, is coordinating the attack on Cloud Recesses.

Lan Wangji arrives in time to find most of his sect rushing to shelter in the magic cave because the Wen troops are slaughtering everyone there.

A bunch of disciples are trapped outside because only members of the Lan bloodline can get in. Wen Xu starts murdering them all until one will tell him how to get in.

ENTER A 2 WHO THINKS HE IS A 10

A disciple named Su She, who incidentally is the guy who lost his sword in the lake like a dumbass while fighting the water demon, tells Wen Xu that only members of the Lan bloodline can get in and he could do it if he had one of the Magic Ribbons.

Lan Wangji emerges from the cave to try to fight off Wen Xu and a zillion guys single-handedly. Unsurprisingly, this does not work and he is captured. Since he’s got the yin iron, Wen Xu decides that’s good enough and they take off. Everyone left behind presumably calls Su She a jerk.

Int, Lotus Pier [Yunmeng]

They’ve received the demands from the Wen sect. Jiang Cheng is the inner heir disciple and he has to go. Wei Wuxian says he’ll go too. Yu Ziyuan tells him nobody gives a shit what the son of a servant does.

Ext, The Indoctrination Bureau, which may or may not be in Nightless City. It sure seems like it is but then later it sure seems like it isn’t [Qishan]

Wen Chao has lined all the disciples up outside so he can insult them and brag about how great he is. Wei Wuxian is worried because Lan Wangji isn’t there at first, but then he’s escorted in, clearly injured and trying not to show it.

Wen Chao forces them all to surrender their swords. Surprisingly it’s Jin Zixuan who picks a fight about this.

ENTER A WOMAN WHO IS NOT PAID ENOUGH FOR THIS SHIT

Jin Zixuan’s retainer, a woman named Luo Qingyang but who everyone calls Mianmian because of how cute she is, calms him down and reminds him that Jin Zixuan’s father told them not to make trouble. He’s pissed but hands his sword over. So does everyone else.

(A note on swords: there are strong implications that the swords are semi-sentient and connected to their bearers on a spiritual level. I’m sure I would know more about this if I was more familiar with xianxia. But the long and the short of it is that taking their swords is a Big Fucking Deal.)

Wen Chao tells them all to memorize ‘The Quintessence of Wen’, basically the rules of their sect.

Ext, somewhere nearby [Qishan]

Wen Ning is excited that Wei Wuxian is in Qishan and asks Wen Qing if he can go outside and play. Wen Qing says no because Wei Wuxian is supposed to be their enemy. Wen Ning uses sad puppy eyes. It has no effect.

Ext, The Indoctrination Bureau [Qishan]

Wen Chao tells them to recite the Wen stuff. Lan Wangji refuses. Jin Zixuan refuses.

Wei Wuxian eagerly volunteers, and then like the chaos gremlin he is, starts reciting the Lan principles instead. Wen Chao is pissed. Lan Wangji is smitten. Even Jin Zixuan thinks it’s funny. Jiang Cheng is upset that Wei Wuxian is causing trouble but he also thinks it’s funny and just won’t admit it.

Wen Chao punishes Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, and Jin Zixuan by making them do some menial labor involving buckets of dung. Jin ‘never done a day of actual labor in his life’ Zixuan is the most upset about this.

Wei Wuxian takes the opportunity to try to talk to Lan Wangji about the yin iron and what happened at Cloud Recesses and why he’s injured. Wen Chao gets even more pissy and throws Wei Wuxian in a dungeon with a terrible CGI wolf monster. Wei Wuxian nearly gets eaten but Wen Qing intervenes by using long distance acupuncture to knock the monster out with throwing needles. Wen Ning brings him some medicine to stop the bleeding from his multiple wounds.

The next day, they’re still reciting the stupid Wen stuff, or at least pretending to. Nie Huaisang either falls asleep on his feet, passes out, or decides this is bullshit and pretends to pass out, and is dragged back to his guest house.

The rest of them go on a field trip.

ENTER THE HUMAN VERSION OF PERIOD CRAMPS

Wen Chao has a girlfriend, somehow. Her name is Jiaojiao and she is the absolute worst.

They head off to a mountain where bad mojo is going around. Wen Chao is clearly planning to use all these cultivators as cannon fodder, because he’s a fucking asshole. Wen Zhuliu accompanies them, presumably because Wen Chao will trip over his own sword and die if left to his own devices. Wen Qing also comes along, even though she’d clearly rather not. Wen Chao keeps hitting on Mianmian and it makes Jiaojiao jealous.

Lan Wangji is limping badly. Wei Wuxian wants to help him. Jiang Cheng tells him they’ve got their own problems and they shouldn’t get involved in other people’s business. Wei Wuxian says, ‘but consider: I do what I want’. He offers to carry Lan Wangji, who refuses. So instead Wei Wuxian uses a little paper talisman to ask Wen Qing if she can help them out. She calls for a break so they can get some water.

Wen Chao tells her she’s too soft-hearted. She tells him he thinks too much, which seems vastly inaccurate.

Int, Muxi Mountain [Qishan]

They find a cave and go inside. There’s a steep drop off and nobody wants to go see what’s at the bottom, so Wen Chao pushes Wei Wuxian over the edge. Everyone is pissed about this, and they all have to climb down.

They’ve discovered an underground lake and the home of the monster! But it’s nowhere to be found. Wen Chao wants to string someone up and cut them to attract it. Jiaojiao suggests Mianmian. Wen Chao clearly doesn’t want to because he has the hots for her. Jin Zixuan tells him to get his grubby eyeballs off his friend. For the first time in the show, we feel a jot of respect for Jin Zixuan.

One of the other disciples tries to grab Mianmian anyway, Jin Zixuan intervenes, and there’s a big fight.

Wei Wuxian tells Wen Chao that using his position to bully others means he should be executed, using the words they had to memorize from the Quintessence of Wen. Wen Chao doesn’t recognize their own principles. Everyone laughs at him, and Wen Zhuliu looks like he’d rather be flipping burgers at McDonald’s than have this stupid job.

While Wen Zhuliu is distracted mentally updating his resume, Wei Wuxian grabs Wen Chao, puts a sword to his throat, and jumps to a rock in the middle of the lake. He tells Wen Chao to make all his guys lower their blades. But then, uh oh! Turns out the rock he jumped to is in fact the monster, which is a terrible CGI turtle snake thing.

There’s another big fight. Jiaojiao decides that this is an ideal time to punish Mianmian for being pretty near other people, and tries to burn her with a hot iron. Wei Wuxian jumps in between them and gets hit with it.

At some point, Wen Chao decides fuck this. The Wen soldiers all retreat, dragging Wen Qing with them, cut the ropes to the bottom of the cliff, and seal the entrance.

They find an underwater exit from the cave. While Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian fight the monster and keep it distracted, the other cultivators escape. But they don’t manage to make it out themselves. They’re now trapped in a cave together, soaking wet and wounded. Thank you, Untamed.

Wei Wuxian teases Lan Wangji and is too stupid to realize he’s flirting. Lan Wangji prays for patience. He tells Wei Wuxian that he went back to Cloud Recesses and that his uncle is injured and his brother is missing. Wei Wuxian covers Lan Wangji with his robe while he sleeps. We all swoon.

In order to get out, they have to kill the monster. Wei Wuxian goes inside it and we all very studiously do not ask which entrance he went through.

The inside of this monster is very gross. There’s a black sword inside it which emanates evil energy. Wei Wuxian grabs it because he is sixteen and stupid. He hears lots of screaming ghosts and such, but hangs onto it anyway because he is sixteen and stupid. They kill the terrible CGI turtle snake thing but it collapses on top of the exit so they still can’t get out. Wei Wuxian is badly injured. Lan Wangji sings to him and there is a montage of their significant moments together up to this point, because the Chinese censors apparently weren’t looking.

Ext, Muxi Mountain [Qishan]

Wei Wuxian wakes up to find he is outside. Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng have rescued him. Lan Wangji has already left to go back to Cloud Recesses to look for his brother. Wei Wuxian is still holding onto the creepy sword. They awkwardly thank Jin Zixuan for helping out with the rescue. Jin Zixuan awkwardly accepts their thanks and then bounces. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng head back to Lotus Pier.

Nobody ever mentions how Nie Huaisang gets out of Qishan, and for some reason I find this very funny.

~end part 2~

#the untamed #liveblog

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lemondropsssss · 4 years

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ok but imagine jaskier has to take geralt home to lettenhove for some reason.

and maybe ciri is there, maybe they’re on the way to kher morhn and they run out of food money and supplies and it’s not like geralt can take a contract what with his armor and swords under the ruins of cintra. and jaskier just looks at their tired wet cold faces and is like fuck.

im gonna have to see my family aren’t i. and so he takes them to lettenhove and his plan is to leave them at the inn outside the gates bribe the gaurds and then get food and supplies from the household staff he can trust and neither geralt nor his family would be any the wiser.

but the fucking minute he steps into town someone shouts “master julian!” and he’s totally fucked. it’s the old fletcher who worked in the castle when he was a boy, who had let jaskier watch his work even when he was supposed to be at his lessons. and it isn’t like he can ignore the man, he showed him such kindness as a boy.

so jaskier goes to talk to him while ciri and geralt share the same look of “master??? julian???” but then more of the lettenhove townspeople take notice and more and more want to come greet good master julian who was always such a nice boy, and isn’t it lovely he’s finally come home and is that his daughter isn’t she lovely

when the attention shifts to ciri geralt is immediately protective and on guard but jaskier seems comfortable with these people so he stops himself from audibily growling. just.

and jaskier extracts himself when he hears the tromp of booted feet and sighs deeply but steps in front of geralt to meet the soldiers. both his companions tense behind him but he just greets amrah with a cheery smile. the man gives him a slight bow and now geralt and ciri are completely lost because usually soldiers plus jaskier leads to geralt poking holes in people.

they follow the soldiers up the road to the keep. both ciri and geralt have questions. a lot of questions. so many questions. but when they both try to ask jaskier shoots them a warning look and shakes his head. he trusts the people of lettenhove, but there is a war on, and even the kindest people can be turned if their children’s lives hang in the balance.

there’s a young woman waiting in the yard when they arrive. she’s beautiful, long dark hair and a smile tucked away but close to the surface. jaskier bows deeply to her, ciri curtsies, and geralt inclines his head which is just about the same respect he offers anyone.

“you’ve returned. how delightful.” she does not look delighted. “you will follow me, and listen intently while i shout at you. your companions will be delivered to your rooms to await you”

jaskier looks about to argue but holds his tongue. he and geralt have a wordless conversation over ciri’s head before the witcher grunts and tilts his head in acquiescence and he and ciri follow the waiting servant.

they’re delivered to a set of rooms nicely decorated but lacking any kind personality.

“geralt what is-“

“I don’t know”

“but who’s juli-“

“I don’t know”

“why was that woman-“

“ci- fiona. if i knew i would tell you” geralt did not want to explain to his child surprise the concept of a kept man.

when jaskier comes back geralt does a cursorary scent, but the bard just smells like stress and his lavender hand cream. his hair stands up like it does when he’s been messing with it, but he looks no worse for wear.

“well. this wasn’t exactly what i had in mind when i suggested resupplying here”

“jaskier”

“yes dear witcher?”

“what. the actual fuck. is going on. if you’ve brought us to another house you’ve cuckolded-“

“what? you think? geralt! that’s my baby sister!”

of all the answers geralt thought he’d get, that wasn’t one of them.

“but you’re a bard”

“what, do you think bards just pop out of the ground fully formed? gods geralt, ive never known you to be thick. i told you we were coming here.”

“no, you said we were coming to lettenhove, you never said anything about a sister!”

“22 years and he still can’t remember my name. fiona, dear, do you remember how i introduced myself when we first met?”

“julian alfred pankratz, viscount de lettenhove, and the greatest bard who ever lived” ciri parrots from her place across the room, sprawled out on the soft bed.

“thank you dear. don’t fall asleep, we’re all expected at supper.”

“jaskier.” it’s geralt’s ‘tell me now or i throw you off the battlements’ growl.

“yes yes, fine. i left when i was very yong. technically i was supposed to return from my life as a wandering bard when my father died. you can probably tell i did not obey that particular order. vanya, my sister and the lady de lettenhove, took over day to day affairs some time ago and from what I heard was doing a fantastic job, much better than i ever could. so i just. haven’t come home.” he shrugs “the people were happy with her, she enjoys caring for them, and i don’t belong here. i wasn’t ever planning to come back but well. we are in desperate need of money and supplies if we’re ever to reach kher morhn alive.”

and geralt is geralt so coping mechanisms are limited when you find out that almost always desolate bard who’s floated around you for 25 years is also a fucking lord. so he copes poorly by crossing his arms frowning and not saying anything at all. because strange new lordling jaskier also has a reasonable point, which is distressing to geralt for a whole hoast of reasons he doesn’t himself understand.

so geralt agrees and they stay for dinner while supplies, including mounts for all three of them, are prepared. and if geralt notices vanya watching him he doesn’t mention it. he doesn’t smell fear off her, but people have plenty of reasons to watch a witcher at their table, so he doesn’t bregrudge her it.

they send ciri off to bed before the meal is done, the girl is almost asleep in her stew. jaskier and geralt excuse themselves shortly after.

“master witcher? a moment, if you please.” vanya’s low voice stops them, and after a silent exchange geralt lets jaskier leave them.

“is there something i can do for you, my lady?”

vanya smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“not as such. please, sit. no need to stand on formality here.”

so he sits stiffly, not sure why this woman would ask for him.

“my brother is a strange man. always has been. such an odd boy, always with his head in the clouds.” the smile on her face and affection in her voice are the only thing that stop him from growling at the way she speaks of jaskier. “he loves you.” that gives him pause. “you know it. he knows it. half the continent knows it and there’s a war on. tell me, master witcher. do you intend to break my brothers heart again?”

she’s smiling but her words are sharp, and they cut at geralt. their reunion after the dragon hunt hadn’t been what geralt had wanted. ciri had been with him, and geralt knew most of the reason jaskier had agreed to travel together again was the girl. they’d been off with each other ever since, dancing around the past without ever coming close.

“i don’t know what you’ve heard, my lady, but jaskier and i never had-“

“spare me, please. i knowmore about my brothers proclivities than any sister should ever have to.” again, the smile that didn’t meet her eyes “you’re a witcher, so any threat of bodily harm i make is a moot point. but hurt my brother again, and I am sure i could think of something very creative for you to endure.”

she gets up to leave but turns back. “ask him to sing you her sweet kiss. that should make everything clear, even to a man like yourself”

ciri is asleep on the cot in front of the fire when geralt gets back. jaskier is plucking mindlessly at his lute, but puts it away when geralt gets back.

“what did my sister want?”

geralt grunts but says nothing, going about getting ready for bed.

“loquacious as always my friend” but jaskier put away his lute and slipped under the covers. they’d taken to all sharing a room on the road, easiest to reach ciri if she had a nightmare and less coin spent on rooms for him and geralt.

“hmm” geralt’s questioning hum.

“yes?”

“what’s her sweet kiss?”

jaskier falters, his heartbeat increases, and geralt can hear him picking at his fingers as he does when he’s nervous.

“why are you asking me about a song i wrote? you’ve never done that, you don’t care about my songs.”

“what is it?”

but jaskier doesn’t answer. he curls up under the blankets, closes his eyes, evens his breathing. geralt could challenge him again but doesn’t. he extinguishes the candles and joins jaskier in bed, each man firmly on his side.

they don’t talk about it in the morning. jaskier is quiet as they pack. he kisses his sister goodbye, chats quickly with the household staff. then all three mount up with their full packs and new cloaks and they’re off.

geralt wants to ask again about her sweet kiss, and what vanya could have meant, but he doesn’t. saves that conversation for kher morhn. winter is long, and a mountain is as good a place as any to get something off your chest

#geraskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher netflix #the witcher fanart #witcher ficlet #witcher fic #my fic #wtf is this #who knows #validate me

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drabbledragon · 3 years

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Linktober: Forest

It’s been a while since I had some free time to write and since exams are done and over with, I can now keep having that free time. So I present to you all, two months late, day 9 of Linktober. Also, please be cautious of the warnings: it does get a bit gory at parts and of course if you get too uncomfortable, you can always just skip this chapter.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749021/chapters/68583117

Summary: Nearly every one of the heroes' Hyrule is peaceful. Just nearly.

Warnings: Minor (teenager) character death, description of (teenage) character burning to death, and swearing.

Day 9: Forest

The group looked curiously at the folded pile of cloaks Hyrule was offering them.

“If we’re heading into town, then you’re gonna have to wear one of these.”

The traveller didn’t miss the baffled glances he got in return, nor did he miss the hesitance they each displayed when reaching for their own part of the share.

“Why do we need to wear a cloak? We haven’t worn one in any other part of your Hyrule.” Sky questioned as he pulled the tattered piece of cloth over his head. The aforementioned apparel hung loosely around his body, falling just low enough to reach the top of his boots.

Hyrule opened his mouth to answer, thought better of it, and then just shook his head. “ We’ll need it here, trust me. Make sure you wear the hood on the back and whatever you do, don’t take it off until we’re alone.” He then proceeded to pull the hood of his own cloak up, and the others were quick to follow suit.

They wandered into town soon after, and they could immediately feel the hostile dread in the air. The place itself was a sea of uncontrollable weeds and messy dirt pathways, with abandoned buildings and makeshift homes placed haphazardly in crooked lines. Almost all the people they saw outside regarded the group with nasty and distrustful looks, with many of them going so far as to place a hand readily on the weapon hanging from their hips; they were anticipating some sort of attack, Twilight recognised, but he didn’t understand why.

The Hero of Hyrule eventually led them towards one of the bigger buildings in the back, and the broken door he opened wailed with a high - pitched creak. It appeared to be a run - down inn, and the young traveller promptly made his way to the front desk where a middle - aged woman eyed him with scrutiny.

“Hello, ma’am, four rooms, please.” Hyrule’s voice was soft and polite, and if he was unnerved by the woman’s gaze, he didn’t show it.

The tension in the air was nearly palpable, and the Links did their best to not let the innkeeper’s piercing gaze intimidate them. Once the woman had finally focused her attention back onto Hyrule, she questioned, “ What are you nine doing here?”

“We’re travellers, ma’am; we just came down from Darunia Town.”

“And your occupation?”

“We craft and sell instruments we make, ma’am.”

“Take off your hood.”

The group was nearly taken aback by the command, and a few of them were even ready to protest just based on the rude tone alone, but Hyrule didn’t care, and his fingers lingered at the edges of his hood for a moment before pulling it down. All of the heroes’s eyes widened at the sight before them: Hyrule’s usual brown hair had been colored a fiery orange and his eyes now shone with a light blue hue; his long and pointy ears had become rounded around the edges, making him appear more like a human and less like a Hylian. The hero looked to the woman expectantly, and after a few long seconds, she scoffed.

“20 Rupees for the rooms then.”

And so Hyrule paid, placing the gem delicately on the desk and accepting the keys. He led the group towards one of the rooms and locked the door without a word, and once he was sure that the nine of them were completely alone, he allowed his appearance to fade back to its usual self with a long, relieved sigh. He was bombarded with questions just a second later.

“Hyrule, what was that?”

“Seriously, what just happened?”

“Why’d you change your ears and eyes and hair, ‘Rule?”

“What’s that old lady’s problem? Why was she treating us like garbage?”

“What’s up with the people here? How come everyone’s looking at us weird?”

“Boys, enough.” Time had finally sounded over the fray, and when the rest of the heroes finally settled down, the eldest hero turned to the traveller and politely asked, “ Hyrule, what happened back there?”

The Hero of Time could tell the question bothered the other, if the sudden bite of his lip and darting green eyes were anything to go by; but after a few tense seconds, he finally piped up with, “ We needed a few rooms, so I got us a few rooms.”

“You need to elaborate on that. Why did you change your appearance? And why did you have us all wear cloaks?”

“Oh, well that’s, um ...” He struggled for a moment, and looked nervously to the floor as if the wooden boards would give him a sound answer. He could feel eight pairs of eyes boring right into his very being, and he couldn’t help but shrink under their anticipative gazes. “ It’s just a thing we need to do to … y’know, keep a low profile.”

“But why would we need to?” Warriors questioned next, taking an assertive step forward. “ Hundreds of other heroes have passed by here without any issues, correct? So with the exception of you, there really isn’t a need to go through the trouble of hiding ourselves; to them, we’re just ordinary Hylians looking for an overnight stay.”

“I know, I know, but it’s just -”

“We found another Hero of Hyrule!”

Their interrogation was abruptly cut short as a deep voice from outside suddenly caught their attention, and eight confused faces turned to look through the sole window in the room. From what little they could see, they were able to discern a large gruff man standing in the middle of the supposed town square, shouting the same message through cupped hands over and over again as he turned in all sorts of directions; just a few paces behind him stood three men, one of which was just a young boy with floppy brown hair, easily in his teens, and tightly bound around the wrists and ankles while the other two grown men supported him under the arms. Behind them was a slightly larger group that worked together to dig a large wooden pole into the ground, while others began piling sticks and wood around the structure as if to make a bonfire.

The heroes stood still, trying desperately to wrap their heads around the scene in front of them. That man … What did he keep calling out? ‘Another Hero of Hyrule’? But that made absolutely no sense: the Links all knew of one Hero of Hyrule and that was, well, Hyrule; but the man outside kept yelling out the title like it was something more than that - like it was some kind of breed rather than just one very specific person; couple that realisation with the strange structure the townspeople were setting up and that just released a whole new set of questions: what was so special about that one person versus everyone else in this town? Why was he tied up? What were the other people creating behind him? Why was there such a strong sense of bloodlust in the air?

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Twilight finally said, being the one to break the silence. “ But I do know that that guy needs help.”

He was about to take a step towards the door when a sudden hand clung fiercely to his pelt, and when he turned around, he was quietly surprised to find that it wasn’t a stoic Time stopping him, but rather an alarmed Hyrule.

“Twi, you can’t go out there right now.”

The ranchhand knitted his brows together. “ Huh? Why not?”

“It’s -.” He held his breath for a second before continuing in a small voice, “ It’s not safe there right now.”

“Well if you’re that concerned about safety,” The two heroes watched as Legend casually walked over to them before coming to a stop by Twilight’s side. “ Then I can stick with Farmboy here. One of us can make a distraction and the other can get the guy out; shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.”

The traveller only frantically shook his head in response, fixing his predecessor with a desperate look as he quickly said, “ No, the both of you can’t go either! It still won’t be safe!”

“Alright then,” Warriors added slowly as he made his way to the Ordonian in the same fashion. “ What about the three of us, then? Surely we’re enough to save that man now.”

But Hyrule only denied the group once again; and again when Wild offered to go, and again when Four offered to go, and again and again and again. Three faces had now become eight as the remaining heroes all looked to the Hero of Hyrule with a mix of confusion and impatience, each one of them asking a myriad of questions about what was so dangerous about the situation and why Hyrule of all people was preventing any of them from going. It was Wild who finally asked the key question with,

“‘Rule, are you hiding something?”

Those words made the traveller freeze, causing him to fall silent and fix the champion with a wide - eyed stare. It appears that the group had finally struck a chord in him, one that somehow instilled fear into their resident hero, and a few of them were starting to become worried at how quiet Hyrule had suddenly become at such a simple yet pivotal question. After what felt like hours, the traveller finally answered back:

“I’m sorry.”

Oh no.

That was all the Ordonian needed to hear before he was suddenly sprinting out of the small room and down the cramped hallway, ignoring the sudden shouts of surprise and alarm from his fellow heroes. He knew it - he knew from the moment he saw that young boy being dragged across the worn dirt by those men that there was something deeply wrong. He should’ve said something sooner - maybe something about how much Hyrule seemed to be dodging their questions - but he stupidly played along with this pointless game like he was some dog chasing its tail.

He just hoped he wasn’t too late to save him.

He felt the rotten wood press against his shoulder as he barged his way through the inn door and out into the cold night air, stumbling as the terrain suddenly switched from wood to dry dirt and overgrown weeds. He silently thanked the goddesses when he was steadily back on his feet in an instant and rushed towards the crowd centered around the square at a breakneck pace. He suddenly felt his stomach plummet as he heard the gruff man from before shout out:

“Death to the Hero of Hyrule!”

That was it. That was the only warning Twilight got before a torch was haphazardly thrown into the pile of wood and the flames started to climb the stake. Everything became unbearably bright, engulfed in a swirl of bright orange and blinding yellow as brown wood burned to black ash in an instant and the fire climbed higher up the pole without any bit of hesitation, right up to the poor teen who was bound to the very top. It only took mere seconds for the agonised screams to fill the air, and even less for Twilight to smell the distinct scent of burning flesh as the flames mercilessly engulfed the body. Once - pale skin turned into blistering red, and the light - brown hue of the boy’s hair started to disintegrate and leave nothing behind but a memory of what used to be there. The Ordonian’s instincts told him to get over there and do something because he was supposed to be a hero - he was one of the few that Hylia had chosen to protect everyone - but all he could do was watch helplessly from the back of the crowd, his stomach churning threateningly as it promised to expel everything he had eaten in the past week.

Goddesses, the crowd. The crowd was thrilled at the sight of one of their own burning helplessly from where he was bound, his agonised screams appearing to be music to their ears. They watched him writhe and scream and plead to be released but they just watched him with some sort of maniacal fascination that only a true cold - blooded serial killer could have. The crowd was smiling, cheering, even echoing the same phrase of “ Death to the Hero of Hyrule!” as they watched someone burn to death, and perhaps what terrified Twilight the most was that some of the people in the crowd were literal children, and they seemed to be entirely fine with watching someone their own age burning right in front of them.

He jumped when he felt a rough hand gently touch his shoulder, and he quickly spun on his heels to find the source, relaxing just a bit when he saw his mentor’s face staring back at him.

Time looked pale. Had he just witnessed the same thing Twilight had just a moment ago?

“Let’s go.” His mentor said after a moment, nudging his head towards the direction that Hyrule was leading the rest of the heroes towards. Twilight wanted to protest - to firmly tell Time that “no, we need to do something” - but the only thing that came out was a shaky sigh. His whole body felt numb, and the remaining rush of adrenaline from before seemed to have sapped him of all his strength and left him with a hollow feeling in his chest, so he didn’t refuse Time’s firm grip around his wrist, and he didn’t protest as Time led him forward.

It didn’t take long for the group to reach the outer edges of the town, and it certainly didn’t take long for them to disappear into a nearby forest. They wove their way through overgrown bushes and drooping trees, and treaded through murky waters and destroyed campsites, and didn’t stop until they reached a dark and desolate clearing that was far from any type of civilization. It was quiet here, and it was a welcomed contrast from the deranged cheers that filled the small town.

Four was the first to speak up as he shakily asked, “ That … That wasn’t real, right? It was just some - some stupid trick, r - right?”

The only immediate response he received back was a heartbreaking whimper from Wind as he dug his face further into Warriors’s scarf.

“I’m sorry.” Came Hyrule’s eventual answer, but the sound was barely above a whisper and his throat strained to keep his voice level. Any hint of anxiety or desperation from before seemed to have been completely wiped away, his tone now a clear reflection of the guilt and regret that was no doubt plaguing his mind. A few heroes opened their mouths to respond, but Legend beat them all to the punch.

“No. No, all of this is bullshit.” He claimed, anger and disbelief clear in his features. “ There’s no way in hell that a bunch of townspeople would just pick up a random kid off the street and burn him alive just for fun. He must’ve been a monster in disguise or - or a traitor that’s killed innocent people or just … just something.” He looked to his protege for some kind of assurance, but felt his resolve start to fall apart when Hyrule refused to meet his eyes. He took a shuddering breath as he said, “‘Rule, tell me this isn’t what people are really like here. Tell me that these are just some sick fucks who get a kick out of torturing people.” His voice took on an uncharacteristically small tone as he continued, “ Tell me this isn’t what I left behind for you.”

The traveller ducked his head even lower and hunched his shoulders as he repeated even quieter than before, “ I’m really, really sorry -.”

“Hyrule, I believe you owe us an explanation.” Time cut in, but instead of the stern and demanding tone the group was expecting, they were all surprised to hear his request as a quiet and gentle one. Perhaps he did it because they were all in shock, or perhaps he did it because Hyrule looked like he was one second away from a complete breakdown, or perhaps he did it because he was just so morbidly curious and he didn’t want to scare away the resident hero by forcing the answer out of him. Regardless of the reason, it got Hyrule talking.

“The people of my Hyrule want me dead.”

He let the air of initial shock settle for a moment before continuing.

“They’ve been hunting me down ever since they knew I was the Hero of Courage here because they all knew the legend: one drop of the hero’s blood on Ganon’s ashes will revive him. At first it was just a silly old wives’ tale that got passed down from generation to generation, but a group of villagers broke into Hyrule Castle one night and found out it was true through one of the books we have in the Royal Library. Word spread from person to person and that’s when people started to get … scared of me.”

The traveller bit his lip for a moment, the memory of first hearing that news all those years ago playing fresh in his mind.

“They thought I was a ticking time bomb - one slipup when fighting a Moblin or a Zora and the entire kingdom was pretty much doomed - so a few people started to hunt me down in order to lock me up or something like that; they just wanted me far away from danger - a place where no monsters would be able to get me. They found me eventually and told me about their plan, but I just ignored them because Zelda was in trouble, and if I didn’t reunite the Triforce in time, then the whole kingdom would be taken over by some prince. I needed to travel across Hyrule; I couldn’t just hole myself away somewhere when the whole kingdom was in danger, so I kept going. Weeks would go by without anyone seeing me, and the number of people that feared I was dead started to grow. More groups started to form in order to find me quicker, and they started to camp out in forests and by rivers just to keep a lookout, but they kept coming back empty - handed and that just made everyone more terrified. Eventually those groups just started locking up people that looked like me just to get rid of a potential Hero of Hyrule, so that’s why I -.”

“That’s why you changed your ears, eyes, and hair with magic earlier, and why you made us wear cloaks: to throw people off our trail.” Legend interjected, and Hyrule nodded in confirmation.

“Right. They knew the Hero of Hyrule was Hylian, had green eyes, and brown hair, so they just locked up anyone who fit the bill, but they wouldn’t even look twice at a human with orange hair and blue eyes. So I was taught how to change my appearance from a magic - user I met in a cave one day, and although that kind of magic took a lot out of me at first, I eventually got a hold of it and was able to pass under everyone’s radar. I travelled from town to town, learning whatever I could from other magic - users and getting whatever I needed to survive in the wild in order to look for Ganon. But because I was so good at hiding, the people that were trying to find me were getting more desperate.”

“They were tired of locking people up and asking if they were the Hero of Hyrule or if they knew where the Hero of Hyrule was, and as more monsters started to surround the villages and kill those who dared to travel, things started to become more serious. The groups started to kill Hylians that looked like me, skipping the whole interrogation part and going straight for the quickest and painless kill they could do in order to remedy a little bit of their guilt. Of course they regretted killing innocent people; nobody wanted to kill someone that was just living their lives and had nothing to do with being Hylia’s Chosen, but they justified themselves by saying that it was either the life of one potential ‘Link’ or the entirety of the Kingdom, and of course they would want to save the kingdom. But months went by, and the monsters kept coming closer, and the real Hero of Hyrule still hadn’t been found, and those villagers got to the point where they were too scared to harvest crops or go hunting or even step outside of their houses. They felt like they were living in a nightmare, and they needed to get out there and kill me or else they would never be able to live a normal life ever again.”

“People started to come out of their houses, daggers and swords in their hands, and got to killing any ‘me’s they could find. The killings weren’t painless anymore: people who were scared of Ganon coming back to full power again started to release all their frustration and fear on innocent people by killing them in the most gruesome ways possible; it was an outlet to them, and now all that guilt from before was starting to turn into satisfaction. To them, it was just getting revenge on the Hero of Hyrule for all the pain and suffering I’ve caused them. Every person, even if you were a salesman or a farmer, started to have weapons by their side just in case I happened to walk into town, and everybody started to become more suspicious of any travellers because they knew the Hero of Hyrule was one. Whether you were a little kid or an old man just passing through, as soon as people saw that you had brown hair and green eyes, then you immediately became a target. They’ll stab you to death, drown you, burn you alive - whatever they needed to do to get rid of the Hero of Hyrule, just so they could make sure that Ganon never comes back. It’s been like that ever since.”

It was a terrible story, the other heroes had silently agreed - like a morbid fairytale gone wrong. It was ironic: the very people Hyrule was chosen to protect were now actively out to get him just for the sake of quelling their own fears.

“...So you’re just letting this happen?”

Eight startled faces all turned to the group’s ranchhand, who looked to the traveller with a deep frown and crossed arms. His lip curled upwards as he snarled out, “ You’re just letting innocent people die because you’re too much of a coward to go and save them?”

Twilight wasn’t actually sure what compelled him to say something like that. Maybe it was because the thought of innocent people dying struck a very strong chord in him, or maybe it was because the people dying were those as young as Talo and Malo and Colin, or as old as Rusl and Mayor Bo; maybe it was a combination of both, and just the knowledge that Hyrule was refusing to do anything about the situation made his blood boil.

The resident hero looked to the other with a mixture of confusion and hurt, but an underlying wave of anger made his tone a little more clipped than he wanted it to be. “ I know I’m a coward, but I’m not just letting them die because I want them to. The people here are aggressive: once they think you’re the Hero of Hyrule, there’s no way you can back yourself out of that situation. Having someone to come and rescue you will only make things worse, and there’s a pretty good chance that you’d be the next one to die.”

“Well if you know all of that, then why aren’t you doing anything to stop all of that from happening? We saw you change your appearance, and you gave us all cloaks to - what? Be less suspicious? - so why aren’t you doing any of that for the people passing through town? You could’ve saved hundreds of lives here, Hyrule, but you’re just staying quiet and watching people die in front of you.”

“I’m not!” Hyrule answered back sharply. His nails dug painfully into his palms. “ I always try to help them when I can, but I can’t be in a hundred places at once. It’s not just Nabooru Town who’s doing this, but literally every other town in this kingdom. People will be dying whether I’m there or not, and there’s no way I can rescue everyone who’s been accused of being me and protect Zelda and the castle.”

“Then think of some other solution!” Twilight threw his hands up, letting all of his pent up rage and disgust finally get the better of him. “ Have your Hyrule Castle give them a safe place to live or create some group to find the people that want you dead and put them in prison! I don’t know, kill them if you have to! Those villagers there are no better than monsters, so there’s nothing left to salvage.”

The Ordonian said that last bit with complete and utter conviction as his subconscious flashed him that same memory of that boy burning to death, and the villagers around him smiling and cheering as they watched the scene with absolute glee. They really were no better than monsters at this point, were they? Cold, cruel, heartless monsters.

“They’re not monsters.” The traveller replied just as firm. “ They’re only the way they are because they’re scared. They know the Hero of Hyrule is still out there - that I’m still out there - and they know that one little slip up could cost them and their entire family their lives, so if they have the chance to control that, then they’ll try everything in their damn power to do so, even if it means killing innocent people. It’s not their fault that they think like that; it’s because they’re all - because Ganon’s - I’m just -.”

“It’s because of mass hysteria.” Warriors interjected, and when the group’s collective attention was brought to him, he hardened his features and explained. “ Consider this: the people of this kingdom know that Ganon could be revived at any second as long as his followers had Hyrule in their possession. If you were a simple villager who hasn’t seen your Hero for weeks on end, wouldn’t you start to panic and fear for the worst? Like the traveller said, a single drop of blood on Ganon’s ashes would be enough to bring him back to life, and even more would bring him back to full power, so I understand the people’s worry for having Hyrule wander alone in a territory riddled with monsters. One wrong move, and their entire livelihoods would disappear, and they most likely won’t have a hero to protect them if Ganon does go too far.”

Hyrule nodded with a grim look on his face, and then redirected his attention to the ranchhand. “ They’re not monsters, Twilight,” He repeated, his voice softer and more controlled than before. “ They’re scared. They’re scared because they don’t have any control over anything, so they do whatever they can to make them feel in - control, even if it’s something as horrible as killing their friends. I know I’m causing this, and I know I’m not doing anything to stop this, but the sooner I get to Ganon and defeat him once and for all, the sooner things can get back to normal.”

It was strange to hear one of their own so conscious and accepting of the horrors around them. Twilight knew that Time and Wild both have regrets about the past and refuse to accept it, and he was sure that Legend and Warriors were both hiding something as well based on all those times they woke up screaming in the middle of the night, but to hear Hyrule, a meek and timid teen that rarely spoke at all, so readily admit that his land was nearly beyond saving and that it was all his fault, was something breathtaking in and of itself. The traveller knew that monsters and his own people were constantly after him, and he knew that if he let himself relax for just a second, the chances of him getting captured and killed would skyrocket to an unbelievable level, but despite all odds, he still chose to defend a kingdom that didn’t even show him an ounce of gratitude. To press forward when the whole world is against you takes a great deal of dedication, and perhaps Hyrule was more of a selfless hero than he made himself out to be.

The Ordonian let his shoulders sag with defeat. “ You’re right: I don’t know anything about what you’re going through, and it was wrong of me to be angry at you.”

Hyrule’s features softened, and any indication of outrage melted into quiet understanding. “ It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean any of it; you were just upset at what you saw and I don’t blame you, but there’s more to the story than whatever you see on your first night in one of the towns here.” He met the ranchhand’s eyes and tried for a tiny smile. “ Things will get better - I know they will - but until then, I have to do what I need to.”

The group had decided to set up camp for the night, all of them silently agreeing that a spot among the trees and dirt was the only safe place left in Hyrule’s era. Most of the heroes turned in for the night without a word, and barely any of them had the courage to look at the dancing flames of the small campfire they had started. It was ironic: how could a thing that brought the group warmth and light and a place to sit and chatter every night kill an innocent person without hesitation? Would it bring them that same sense of comfort ever again, or would they constantly relive that memory of their night in Nabooru Town, watching an innocent child burn to death at the hands of those he considered family?

In the end, it was just Time and Hyrule left at their makeshift campfire, both of them silent as they were lost in their own thoughts; that is, until a success of long howls filled the night air.

The traveller tensed, breath catching in his throat for a second, before realisation dawned on him. “ That’s Wolfie, right?” He questioned, and when he received a nod of confirmation from the other, he knitted his brows in worry. “ But he sounds … really sad tonight ...”

“I think he’s crying.”

Hyrule turned to the elder hero with genuine confusion. “‘Crying’? Why would he be crying?”

Time stared absently at the bright orange flames in front of him. “ I think he’s crying for all those who’ve lost their souls to such a cruel fate.”

#linkeduniverse #LU Hyrule #LU Twilight #fanfic #linktober2020

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raylessneedssleep · 4 years

Note

Are you still doing asks on anything? Can u do something with Sukka? Or maybe something that has a Sokka/toph sibling relationship/ friendship? Please?

Of course! I will try to incorporate both Sukka and a Sokka and Toph friend/sibling relationship. This will be set during a traveling mission with Team Avatar (Zuko and Suki included).

———

“Are we there yet?” Sokka said in a childish tone. His aching feet were screaming for a much needed break after hiking up the mountain side. It was almost sundown and they were approaching a small village settled on one of the mountain slopes.

Katara rolled her eyes and shot a glare back at her brother who was trudging behind the rest of the group. “Quit complaining and just continue walking,” she snapped, her fists balled at her sides. Sokka had been complaining ever since they had slid off of Appa and began their hike.

“It’s okay, Sokka! We are almost there anyway.” Aang slowed to allow Sokka to catch up with him, resting a reassuring hand on the elder boy’s shoulder with a bright smile. Sokka resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Aang’s chipper attitude. The boy never seemed to get tired and Sokka blamed it on being the avatar.

Toph huffed, stomping her foot forward before rising back up into a straighter stance. “I believe it is just up ahead,” Toph said as she pointed to the direction in front of her.

Letting out a dramatic sigh of relief, Sokka sprinted off ahead of the others with an inhuman speed. Zuko opened his mouth to shout for him to slow down, but the soft gab to his side along with the shake of Katara’s head stopped him. He looked between the two Southern Water Tribe siblings and sighed softly to himself.

Behind them, Suki couldn’t help but watch Sokka’s retreating figure with a soft smile. Toph didn’t fail to notice her heartbeat changing ever so slightly.

After Team Avatar finally caught up to Sokka, he had already entered an Inn placed at the edge of the village. A short, thin woman with braided hair welcomed them with a small smile. Zuko reached into his bag, pulling out a small pouch of money to pay for their rooms.

The rooms were divided into boys and girls, much to Sokka’s displeasure, and were situated across from one another. Each room had two beds side-by-side, two dressers, a closet across from the beds, a small table settled under a shoji window, and a plush rug. The bathrooms were public baths that were connected to the Inn by a small pathway and a large outhouse.

Bathing in a public bath was a new experience for Suki, but she didn’t hate it entirely. It was nice having her hair washed by Katara while washing Toph’s hair which was surprisingly long and soft. She learned that Toph had a small scar on her hip from being pushed into a rose bush by kids who lived around her. Toph explained that it was one of the reasons her parents refused to let her leave the house; they feared she was too fragile and something worse could happen to her besides getting hurt by a rose bush.

Suki had been shocked to learn what Toph’s family was like, but it only made them closer. It made Suki feel like they were finally trusting each other by exchanging childhood memories with one another. Even Katara shared her own stories—many involved Sokka making a complete fool of himself—and stories of her adventures with Aang before the others had joined the group.

Their fun soon came to an end when they exited the bathhouse to find Zuko scowling at Aang airbending Sokka’s hair to dry it. Dark strands stood up in different directions and a lazy grin covered Sokka’s face. He seemed to be enjoying himself too much.

“Suki, look!” Sokka shouted, pointing to his disheveled hair. Though Suki didn’t understand the amusement in his messy hair, she still giggled at his behavior. He may have been one of the older ones in the group, but that didn’t mean he was the most mature. Joking around was something he did quite often, leaving the maturity to Zuko and Katara who were the parents of Team Avatar.

“I don’t get it,” Toph grumbled as she crossed her arms across her chest.

“Of course you don’t ‘cause you’re blind,” Sokka rolled his eyes before smoothing out his hair with his hands until it framed his face. Toph scoffed, stomping the ground until a large rock lifted from the earth and flew into Sokka. It smacked the back of his head which sent him flying forward into the small pond next to the walkway.

Laughter erupted from the group—Zuko even let out a small chuckle—as Sokka struggled to free himself from the slippery stones surrounding the pond. Turtle ducks pecked at his behind making him wince and reach his hand out for help. Zuko pitied the poor boy and reached down to grab the collar of his robe, pulling him up from the pond.

Suki, smiling at Sokka, turned around and slowly began heading towards the small sitting area on the other side of the walkway. It had a large tree—it stood taller than the Inn which was three levels—in the middle with benches on either side of it.

“Suki,” Katara called out to gain the other girl’s attention, “where are you going?”

“Oh! Just going over to sit down. I’m not ready to go to bed yet, but I wish to rest my feet a little.”

Katara gave her a questioning look after something flashed behind Suki’s eyes, her smile wavering ever so slightly, but she decided to drop it and let Suki do as she pleased.

Making her way over to one of the benches, Suki smoothed out the light green robe she had been wearing before she sat down. Her eyes trained on the moon that hung high in the sky; the rays of light casted a glow over the world underneath it. A feeling of dread grew in her stomach the more she stared blankly at the large, gray orb.

Toph nudged Sokka—he had been telling her about the village as he thumbed through a small history book he had apparently brought outside with him—and called for his attention.

“Yeah?” Sokka questioned, his eyes never leaving the worn pages as he skimmed every line.

“I think something is wrong with Suki,” Toph said lowly to not draw attention to their conversation. Zuko and Katara had been paying attention to Aang as he rambled about the Air Nomads, but Toph wanted to be sure no one else heard her conversation with Sokka.

“What do you mean?” Sokka paused in his reading to look up at Toph, though she didn’t see it, and raised a brow at her statement.

“I don’t know...I just feel like something is wrong,” Toph could feel Sokka’s worried gaze trained on her face. Whenever she got a feeling about something, it was usually right.

Had there been something wrong with Suki? If there was, then why didn’t Sokka notice it?

Sokka looked over to where Suki was sitting, her head leaned back and a sad gaze resting on the sky above her. He followed her gaze to see she was looking at the moon.

He cursed under his breath before standing to full height. “Can we continue our talk later?” Sokka asked Toph to which she responded with a nod of her head, standing to go over to the rest of the group. Sokka made a mental note to make it up to Toph considering she had been very interested in the history of the village and he had promised he would tell her about it.

Suki was drawn from her thoughts when someone suddenly sat down beside her. Shocked to see Sokka, she fumbled over her own words as she tried to form a greeting.

“Suki, if this is about what I told you the other day, then I’m sorry.”

Her body froze instantly at his words; she could only stare at him as he looked up at the moon with a sad look and a tight lipped smile. She knew that look and it only made her heart hurt more knowing she was partly causing it.

It had been about what he told her the other day. As soon as he told her everything, her mind began to overflow with so many “what if” questions that her stomach began to twist into knots. She knew it was stupid to get so worked up over the past, but she couldn’t help it no matter how hard she tried to forget about it.

“When I told you about Yue, I wanted to be honest with you, not hurt you.” Sokka leaned forward while resting his elbows against his knees, his hands running through his parted hair.

Suki looked away, her folded hands falling into her lap and tightening against one another until her knuckles were paling; her heart beat wildly in her chest.

The other day, before they had left for their trip, Sokka had sat Suki down and told her everything about Princess Yue and their “relationship.” He left nothing out because he wanted her to know everything about him. Even his past. He told her how they met, what they talked about, how he felt when he had met her, what happened with the Fire Nation, what she had to do to save them, and how he felt when it happened.

“I shouldn’t be upset, I know, but I-“

“Suki, don’t ever assume that your feelings are invalid. You are allowed to feel however you want and you can feel upset about this.” Sokka was firm, but he was also gentle when he spoke to Suki. Looking into her watery eyes, he gave her a loving smile and leaned up to kiss her temple.

“Princess Yue is someone special to me and will always hold a special place in my heart, but she is in my past and will stay there. You are my present and my everything. Please, don’t ever doubt that.”

As they stared deeply into each other’s eyes, Suki felt a rush of relief blanket her body.

Why had she been so upset in the first place?

She had no reason to feel jealous over a girl that turned into the moon. Sokka loved Yue in the past, sure, but Sokka loved her in the present. He devoted his everything to her and she had absolutely no reason to doubt that. His past was his past, just as much as her past was her past.

“Sokka,” Suki brushed her nose against his; the action barely felt by either of them. It was rare for them to display this kind of affection for one another considering Suki enjoyed basking in each other’s presence in private, but she couldn’t help herself from showcasing her feelings.

“Yes?”

“I love you,” Suki said, pressing their foreheads together and reaching forward to take his hands into her own. She stared at their interlocked hands, tears forming in the corners of her eyes as a rush of pure love and comfort filled her. Sokka would always be there for her and she would do the same for him.

Giving her hands a squeeze, Sokka smiled and closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of her warm hands in his colder ones. He promised himself that, no matter what, he would never take her for granted and would always be someone she could count on and be proud of.

“I love you, Suki,”

———

I hope you enjoyed the short story and I’m sorry the ending was kind of bad, but I didn’t want to make it too long or too short so I tried to mix it up a bit. There wasn’t many Toph/Sokka moments, however, I tried to make their time together seem important. Toph really wanted to know about the village they were in, so Sokka did some research and brought along some history books to read to her and educate her. It is a sign that shows a more brotherly role he plays with Toph.

I also wanted to explain the story some more besides the Toph/Sokka scenes.

I wanted the story to be about Suki’s reaction to Yue, the girl Sokka used to like, and to show that she felt slightly jealous of Yue because it was his first love. It didn’t say this, but Suki was almost afraid that Sokka didn’t love her as much as he loved Yue and that he wasn’t over her.

Sokka explains that Yue is part of his past and will always be important to him, but he lives in the present with Suki who he loves now.

They cannot tell what the future holds for them, but they are willing to leave in the present with one another, showering each other with their love and affection.

Sorry if there are any typos! I wrote this when it was quite late. I hope you enjoyed it! :)

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yanara126-writing · 3 years

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The Adventures of Hildraed Dawnsbane - Interlude 1 (2/?)

Farmer, Pirate, Menace, Captain, Dawnsbane. Hildraed has many titles, she really could have lived well without Watcher.

Read here or on Ao3. (1641 words)

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

Aloth hadn’t exactly expected much from this place, it was at best a mudhole, and at worst something that he would prefer not to voice. Still, Gilded Vale had somehow managed to disappoint him. Not only was he alone without any guidance, he was now also being threatened with immediate disembowelment. In the dark and rain. Woedica have mercy on him.

“I meant no offense. Let's put this matter to rest over a round, shall we? My treat.” Not that he particularly wanted to spend more of his coin here, but better coin than blood.

The man before him narrowed his eyes at him even more, the bloodshot red of his eyes sending shivers down Aloth’s back as memories shot through his uninvited. He didn’t much register the drunkards next words, but he couldn’t possibly miss as… she suddenly surged forward, sending a painful stab into his brain that had his stars dance in front of his eyes. When the sight was clear again, it wasn’t only the drunkard’s eyes that were red, instead his whole face was a dep red, and the anger had morphed into a blind rage.

He wanted to step back, but his feet were rooted to the ground. Hot and cold shivers ran through his body as he stared in horror, desperately trying to stutter out apologies for whatever she’d said. Somehow he managed to slowly reach for his grimoire, not that it would do him much good in a fight three against one.

Suddenly loud laughter rang from behind the three drunkards, splitting the night and boiling atmosphere with the coldness of shock. It was an ugly sort of laughter, loud and bellowing and dry, none of the refined, tasteful chuckles of his home.

When his opponents turned around to see whoever had snuck up only to bark their soul out with laughter, Aloth too risked shifting his attention behind them.

When he first saw the woman, he thought she was a walking dead. On the second look he could concede that she probably wasn’t, but only by a hair’s breadth. Even in the dark he could see her skin was paler than it seemed to usually be, blanched of colour and warmth. Her brown hair was hanging down her face in sticky strand, covered in some sort of substance that Aloth didn’t care to consider further. Her clothes seemed practical but not cheap, which made him wince even more at their state. They were ripped in places, dirty (and probably bloody from the looks of it), and generally mistreated, in a way that made Aloth feel self-conscious about himself.

It took her quite a while to somewhat calm down again, though she didn’t seem to mind the four people watching her with morbid fascination as she smeared dirt even further over her weathered features.

When she looked up again, directly into his eyes, Aloth felt the icey fear from before return. Three against one was already bad, four would be worse. And something about her sharp stare directly into his soul told him that should she choose to end him, he would not survive.

She stepped forward and Aloth gripped his grimoire and felt his knuckles turn white.

“Ah well, now that we have that absolute gem of an accusation, how about you all fuck off and get to keep your innards for another day.” Surprise and relief flooded him as she turned her attention to his assailants, even he cringed at both the roughness of her voice and words. He doubted the drunkards would take the not very subtle hint.

“Ay, we don’t like getting told what to do by outsiders!” Of course not. Still he wasn’t fast enough, his fingers fumbling just a bit too long with the heavy book to prevent the first punch from being thrown.

Though when he finally had it out, he was too stunned to react either way. The woman fought like a typhoon, dodging hits and decking out punches with a speed that he hadn’t expect from one looking so battered. Neither had their opponents apparently, and the fight was over as quickly as it had begun. He wasn’t sure the bodies on the ground were still breathing.

The woman certainly was though, gasping for and listing slightly to the side, eyes now unfocused and almost slightly misted.

He licked his lips, looking for the right words to say. He now had confirmation that he did not want to anger this woman.

“Well… Thank you for that.” A rather listless thanks, but at least a thanks nonetheless. A snort was his answer, followed by an ugly sounding spitting sound as a clomp of blood landed on the ground.

“You’re welcome.”

“Are- are you alright?” On the one hand he wanted to kick himself for not taking the opportunity and just leaving, but now she was listing even further, eyes starting to cross a little, and he was genuinely she was about to just keel over. And now matter how frightening she seemed, she had just saved his hide. Just letting her faint here would be at very least bad manners.

“Do I look like it?” Her eyes focused just enough on him to give him the same disappointed stare his teachers had given him every time he’d failed to give an answer, and Aloth shrunk back a little.

“N-no?”

“No, that’s right lad.” She sighed and fished a hairs strand from her mouth, staring at instead of him now with the same disappointment.

Despite the very strange circumstances and the fact that he healthily intimidated by her, now that the immediate danger of disembowelment was over, he felt strangely drawn to her. She was certainly a character, and a far more capable one than he’d first expected. Looking at her more closely (and pushing away his disgust), he found a fine scar down the side of her face, and a vaguely familiar looking tattoo on the other, though he couldn’t place it in the moment. On her back she carried a sword, somewhat hidden by her bulky cloak. A little surprised by his own boldness he made decision, fuelled by desperation to get out of this mudhole and find his contact, and also by an ever stronger burning curiosity.

“Nevertheless, you have my thanks, and perhaps I could be service to you as well. How about I buy you a drink and we can discuss an arrangement?” Expectedly he watched her, but seconds ticked by, and she didn’t react, just still continuously staring at her hair with a far-off look. Insecurity crept back in. Had he done something wrong? Had he offended her somehow?

Suddenly she blinked up at him again, looking at his still halfway open mouth for second before answering in slurred words.

“Look lad, I’m far too tired for any of this and I heard exactly nothin’ you just said, so I’ll throw myself in there, and if you’re still there tomorrow, we can have a talk.” Not waiting for a response she staggered forward and past him in direction of the inn, all the odd grace from the battle lost. With her wobbling steps Aloth was surprised she was walking at all.

When her shoulder hit the inn’s doorframe and she let out an angry shout he winced and hurried forward without much thinking. Attempting to avoid the filthiest spots of her sleeve he grabbed her elbow and gently pulled further inwards and away from the walls before he could really think about it.

The way to the inn’s counter wasn’t far, and somehow still felt very long. What was he doing? He could have left, he could have let her go herself, he could have just run, but now he was here, dragging her along and standing far too close to this woman he didn’t know and who had very much proven to be dangerous. That was it, he assured himself. He just didn’t want to and up on her bad side. Yes.

The woman behind the counter sent him a both concerned and suspicious look, and really he couldn’t fault her. Even if she hadn’t heard the commotion outside, he was dragging along a filthy and bloody woman by the arm, who was stumbling like she had only drunk liquor the last seven weeks. He sent her a what he hoped was an apologetic look and walked by her as quickly as possible by the ever-heavier weight on his side, and as the woman was sagging further and further into him and he away.

When they finally reached the common room, it felt like an eternity had passed. Still he somehow expected her to jump up and deck him too. She did no such thing however, and now he was standing in front of an empty bunk, without any idea of what to do. Lacking another option aside from throwing her onto the bunk, he gingerly let go, hoping she would just lay down herself. Instead she keeled over as soon as he let go. Too late to still catch her, Aloth could only watch her slam into the hard bunk with a bang and he cringed, expecting a sound of pain.

Once again she surprised him, as she completely ignored her hard contact with the cot if she’d even noticed it, instead giving a hum of relief and relaxing into the uncomfortable surface.

Finally Aloth sighed. What even was this day? What was this week? This year? His whole life really. Gingerly he massaged his hurting temple, knowing full well it wouldn’t help. He’d just wanted to leave.

Alas, now he might as well stay another night and satisfy his curiosity. A heavy feeling of something settling into his stomach he found another empty bench to sleep, questioning until deep into the night if he’d made the right choice.

#Pillars of Eternity #writing #fanfiction #Aloth #Watcher Hildraed

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rainiedeforest · 4 years

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Presuppositions

Fandom: Mo Dao Zu Shi (The Untamed) Pair: Madame Yu | Yu Ziyuan & Madame Jin Link to AO3: [here] Summary: Ziyuan just wants people to stop making assumptions about her. Words: 1394

“I didn’t think I was going to find you here,” Fengmian’s voice shook her slightly. She hated that little power he seemed to have over her. But, at least, she was able to look at him with the same nonchalance with which she treated the other young teachers, at least until he greeted her correctly. “Yu-guniang.”

The girl leaned in, returning the greeting before raising an eyebrow.

“And may I know why?”

“I don’t know…” The young man replied, not knowing what else to answer.

Yehua’s attitude, now Ziyuan, had changed slightly in contrast to the twelve-year-old girl Jiang Fengmian had me four years ago. She looked much secure, much stronger, much more mature. And Fengmian found it quite attractive. Perhaps because it was very different from the attitude of many of the Young ladies that his mother insisted on to meet him.

They continued walking through the city while Ziyuan looked around for an inn in which to stay. She would send an urgent message with a talisman so that she could tell Sheji and meet with her as soon as possible. After all, they were going to a night hunting in a few days, a mission they had been assigned to do by the judge of the city.

“Are you going to keep following me or can we go separate ways?” she asked turning to look at him. It wasn’t the kindest phrase, but she didn’t understand why he would want to be by her side. No one wanted to. Why him?

“Do you dislike walking next to me that much?”

Ziyuan watched him silently, meeting the man’s warm and soft eyes. That question had taken her completely by surprise, but she tried really hard not to show it too much. Sooner than later, angrily, she found herself looking away, reaching for the hand where she wore Zidian and stroking it absently, with the clear intention of calming down a little bit.

“Should I take it as a yes?” Fengmian asked again with a small smile, perhaps one with a victorious overtone that, on another occasion, would have bothered her.

“Take it however you want. After all, all of you do, don’t you?”

Fengmian stopped in his tracks before grabbing her wrist. But he didn’t wrap his hand around her skin in a rough or demanding way, but delicate and soft, as if he wanted to know exactly what that question had come for. His eyes tried to meet the girl’s gaze before taking a step toward her, not releasing her.

He knew the strong personality of the woman, he knew how she answered normally and how she behaved, but with him, she was never like that; so cold, so cutting, and so defensive. It was as if he himself had done something wrong, something he didn’t know.

“Ziyuan,” the woman raised her eyes, trying to relax the fast pumping of her hear and finding herself caught by that kind gaze. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Please don’t… Don’t lie to me,” he asked, and his voice came out so soft and pleading, something inside Ziyuan broke. Why was he like this with her? They knew each other, had met on some night hunts, but had no greater relationship. Any other attitude only made her more confused. “Tell me, please.”

And Ziyuan, who always had been proud and self-assured, felt her strength falter and a small doubt arouse in her heart. Fengmian remained silent, no letting go her wrist and reaching to close the distance between them, the one that separated them. A span kept both bodies apart, but it was a span that could easily be removed.

So Ziyuan sighed, first because she knew that span won’t be removed and second because she knew that she didn’t have any other option.

“I have met my fiancé two days ago,” she blurted out and Fengmian had to make a great effort to not be surprised. “Apparently, everything that comes out of my mouth is nothing more than silliness that don’t have any importance or weight and that fall on deaf ears, because, my father and my fiancé suppose things that do not exist.”

“I… I didn’t know you had be engaged… Congratulations.” Although using that hesitant tone that at some other time would have comforted her, that word was like a stab for Ziyuan, who looked up and gave him a hurt expression. “Surely you will be very happy.”

Those good wishes hur her like a burning dagger stuck in her heart.

“I don’t want any of your congratulations! Save those good wishes for someone who cares!” She shouted at him, abruptly loosening the hold on her and feeling her chest rise and fall quickly, all because the rage that caused her all that situation.

Fengmian lowered his arm until it hung limply at the side of his body. Ziyuan was only sixteen years old, and yet he knew she was on a marriageable age. But an imposed wedding… He didn’t think he was capable of obeying those same orders if he was in her place. Even though he knew that as heir to the YunmengJiang Sect, he would have to do it someday soon.

Despite the fact that they were attracting the attention of the many peasants and the occasional cultivator who was passing through the city street, both remained silent, each lost in their own thoughts.

“I’m sorry. I thought it was a well-matched marriage,” he said quietly, trying to fix things. He knew the girl’s strong character, but he also knew that there was someone sweet and loving inside her who tried to fight from time to time. He had seen it with Zing Sheji.

“What part of ‘my opinion doesn’t count at all because you all presuppose the things I want, say or do’ you haven’t understood?” she asked bitterly, closing her eyes ruefully.

Fengmian nodded. Maybe he should have paid more attention to her words, because the truth is that he felt quite stupid. He had predisposed that she was delighted with this marriage. Even if it was just a little. Any maiden would be happy to get married, right?

But sometimes he forgot that Yu Ziyuan was not like any other maiden he knew. She was a woman of character, intelligent, determined and self-confident, with a high level of cultivation and sword management that would leave some great swordsmen crying for their mother. She didn’t want a marriage, she wanted to live, to be recognized as the rest of the man and not classify for belonging to the ‘fair sex’, as many thought.

He didn’t need anybody to tell him. He saw it in her actions, in her attitude, in her behavior… He saw it even in her relationship with Sheji, the daughter of the ShenzhenXing sect leader. Two women who would not let anyone or anything rule their lives.

So, with a big sigh that he kept to himself, he took the girl by the hand and lightly tugged her to walk down the street again.

“W-what are you doing?!” Ziyuan asked both surprised and exalted when she felt the warmth of the other hand. Her heart was beating so fast, as if she was like a rabbit on the run for it life, and her eyes looked stunned and confused at the man’s back. “L-Let me go!”

“There’s an iin nearby where they make a wonderful spicy soup, as the ones in Yunmeng,” he replied, turning so he could see her over his shoulder. “Let me invite you while you wait for Xing Sheji. You’re going to meet her, right?”

Ziyuan clicked her tongue and cocked her head.

“Are you presupposing things again?”

“Mm… No. It’s just a wish I have,” he replies, shrugging without releasing her hand yet. Ziyuan looked at him oddly, frowning slightly. It cannot be possible.

“Are you in love with Sheji?”

“What? No! But I wouldn’t like you to be alone. It’s always better to have a friend near to lean on while traveling, don’t you think?”

And there it was again, that stupid smile that she disliked so much and which, at the same time, she liked to contemplate so much. Ziyuan bit her lip nervously, but ended by not responding, increasing her steps to stand beside him and continue walking toward the inn.

Both of them… Holding hands.

#MDZS #The untamed #mo dao zu shi #Madame Yu #Yu Ziyuan #Jiang Fengmian #my writing #read on ao3

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starscheme · 4 years

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Change My World

Chapter Eighteen: The Forgotten Garden

As Lion dashed off with Spinel and Steven on his back, Garnet watched them leave from the first floor tavern window. She waited until the pink color of the Lion could no longer be seen before turning back to the humans that were unconscious on the floor. Stepping over a couple of them, she made her way up the stairs to the room where Spinel and Steven had been staying. Elaine was still unconscious after being hit with Steven's energy, which worked out well for Garnet as she loomed over the girl to search her pocket and take the remaining colored marbles from her.

Someone had supplied this human with magic trinkets. Specifically, trinkets to harm mermaids. Garnet dropped the marbles into a small bag strapped to her side and pulled out the pink sphere she had used to communicate with Pearl once before. The sphere projected a small screen with Pearl looking out at Garnet anxiously once she answered the call.

"I'm sending a human your way," informed Garnet before Pearl could say anything.

"A human? Right now? We're preparing things for Steven. We don't have time to deal with another-"

"-she was touched by his energy and she's still alive. We may need her." Interrupted Garnet.

Pearl seemed surprised by this, but she nodded her head in reply. "I understand. We'll be ready to receive her."

With nothing else to say, Garnet cut the feed and sighed as she looked around the room. She'd chosen not to mention Lion to Pearl, nor would she mention that Steven and Spinel were out of sight. "...everything we've been working for...is riding on you two..." whispered Garnet

While Garnet took care of things at the Inn, Spinel was holding onto Steven as best she could as the Lion rushed off through the valley behind the village. Though he was draped over the Lions back, Spinel was still worried that he might slip off somehow. She had no idea where the beast was planning to take them, but at least they were safe. Elaine had really caused no end of trouble and if they didn't have to run away like this, Spinel would have preferred to make sure Elaine couldn't tell her lies once they were gone. Still, she had to get Steven somewhere he could rest. That is, if it was in her control.

"Where are you taking us?!" shouted Spinel over the cold wind that stung her skin. "Steven needs to—"

Before she could finish, the Lion roared and a pink light flashed out like a visible echo, leaving behind a similar looking circle of energy that Lars had produced back at the campsite to help them all escape. Spinel could only watch in mild shock while the Lion took them all through the portal. The former mermaid was temporarily blinded by a bright flash once inside the circle, but when her eyesight returned, Spinel was once again stunned to silence. The Lion had transported them all to some strange abandoned garden. All the flowers had withered away from neglect. The large stone fountain in the middle seemed to have completely run dry and was slowly crumbling away along with the carved stone columns that surrounded it.

"Well...this is creepy..." muttered Spinel, hoping this wasn't where the Lion really intended to take them. Though that hope was squashed rather quickly once the Lion lowered himself, waiting for them to slip from his back.

Though Spinel was reluctant to stop and rest in such an eerie place, she wasn't about to argue with the magical pink lion that saved them from trouble. Stepping down from the Lion, she dropped the duffel bag and went to work getting Steven down as well. He was still out cold from his earlier burst of energy. Though this would have been the second time Spinel saw him do this, she was still no closer to finding out why it happened and it seemed that Steven didn't remember his first outburst.

Hooking her arms beneath his, she pulled Steven off the Lion and quickly lowered him to the ground, resting his head on their luggage. Once everyone had departed his back, the Lion began walking away, alarming Spinel at once. "Hey-hey, Wait," she started to shout as she sprang to her feet. "Where are you going?! I don't know where you brought us! You can't just-"

As Spinel followed after the Lion and pleaded with a beast who most likely couldn't understand her, she was unknowingly led to the bottom of a flight of stairs. Distracted from her pleas once her foot knocked against the first step. Spinel glanced up to see where the stairs would lead and saw nothing of importance. Just a small platform bordered with four large pillars, a large stone Diamond in the middle. She didn't plan on exploring it, but the Lion had gotten behind her and began to nudge at her back with his forehead to push her along.

"Ah! O-okay, okay!" She exclaimed in annoyance. With a sigh, Spinel turned to make sure Steven was still sleeping before she started to climb the stairs. When she reached the top, she could see that the stone Diamond was decaying slowly and had been overcome by some overgrown vines. "...it's really a shame. I'm sure this place was beautiful once..." mumbled Spinel while plucking at some of the withered plants to clean them from the Diamond.

It wasn't long after she'd removed a couple of vines, that a light began to shine from the Diamond and projected a dim pink screen. Spinel gasped lightly and took a step back on instinct, but it was soon apparent that this was nothing to fear. Just a projection. The image that appeared on the screen was in the shape of a woman, but the recording was apparently too old to maintain its quality. With all the static and glitches, Spinel could barely make out the voice, let alone get a proper look at the woman's face.

"I-so sorry—" the woman's voice echoed through the static, her words skipping out due to the deteriorating footage. "—Mistake. You are my—-please remember. It is your fate. Had I known, I never would have—-one—-thi—-"

Spinel listened patiently as the woman seemed to pause, sobbing softly through the static. She couldn't make out everything the woman said, but this was clearly left as a message for someone. It made Spinel a little sad to think that perhaps this message was waiting here all this time. Did it ever reach the one it was intended for? Or was Spinel the first to hear it?

Finally, the sobs quieted down and the woman began again, "forgive me. This isn't what I—-anted—-. The others wa—-our—they'll use you. I did all—protect you. —-power you have is dangerous. Don't let them—-it could kill you. Please, remember who you are. You are—-nd—-ove—-ou. Remember that—. —-care of yourself, Steven."

Once the woman said Stevens name, the message ended and the image was immediately cut off. Spinel kept her gaze fixed on where the projection had been, stunned to silence when she heard the end. Steven? It couldn't possibly be a message for her Steven. Everything here appeared to have been abandoned long ago. At least long enough for the stone carvings to have practically rotted away and lose their shape. It wasn't possible for all this to have been neglected just in her Stevens lifetime. Still, Spinel was trying to recall the message in its entirety, worried there was something important she didn't pay enough attention to now.

"S-something about fate and a mistake? Remembering who you are...and a dangerous power that could hurt him..." repeated Spinel under her breath. There was no way this was meant for the man sleeping just down those stairs, but a part of Spinel was terrified now. Steven clearly had a power that couldn't belong to any human, but he wasn't a mermaid either. What was he? Twice he had saved their lives with this power. A pink Lion with the ability to transport them had come to the rescue, and now a strange message had been left in a long forgotten garden, seemingly for him? What could it all mean?

The Lion began to descend the stairs now, not bothering to wait for Spinel as she tried to organize her jumbled thoughts. It wasn't until he edged closer to Steven's sleeping face that Spinel took notice.

"H-hey! Don't disturb him," shouted Spinel as she dashed down the stairs, nearly tripping over her own feet as she did so.

"...Spinel?" Mumbled Steven, his eyes fluttering open slowly, sure that he had heard Spinel shouting. His vision hadn't even fully become clear when he suddenly remembered what happened before he passed out. "ELAINE," he shouted as he sprang up with a start, feeling light headed the moment he was on his feet. Swaying back a bit, he was steadied by something soft and sturdy. It allowed Steven to see Spinel running towards him in what looked like an abandoned Garden. Though he was relieved to see that Spinel was okay, he was completely lost on what was going on. They were someplace new and when he glanced over his shoulder to see who had helped steady him, his heart jumped out of his chest at the sight of the large pink lion staring back at up at him. "WHAT THE—-?!" Steven exclaimed in a panic, scrambling away from the beast until he reached the old fountain.

"St-Steven...!" panted Spinel when she finally reached him, leaning on her knees to catch her breath for a moment. Walking was hard enough. Running was ridiculous. "Don't panic..."

"What is going on?!" he demanded while placing his hands at Spinels arms, helping to straighten her so their eyes met.

"W-well...it's not a long story, but it is a confusing one. I'm still not sure I've really caught up myself..." began Spinel, averting her eyes from his own.

Steven listened quietly as Spinel explained the events that had passed him by. Though she omitted his involvement in it all and instead said it was the Lion that had saved them both from Elaines traps. Spinel was also reluctant to mention the message she had heard just a few moments ago. She still wasn't even sure it was meant for her Steven anyhow.

"And so...where are we now then?" asked Steven, finally taking his hands from Spinel and looking around.

"I don't know. He brought us here...and it doesn't seem like he's in a hurry to leave."

"...well I guess...we should just make camp here for the night. It will be easier to find our way in the morning. ...but from the looks of this place, no one has been around for a long time." Steven sighed at last. "Did you find anything helpful?"

Spinel flinched lightly and abruptly shook her head frantically. "NOPE! Just dead flowers and broken statues! I don't think—"

As Spinel nervously answered Steven, the two heard a notable rustling in the overgrown grass just a few feet away. It silenced them both, wondering if someone had followed them somehow, or if the Lion had brought them into a trap.

"Lion? Have you come back?" Came a soft and almost lyrical voice from the weeds, accompanied by a pale young woman when she pushed herself through the brush. The girl had pink hair that was tied up in buns at both sides of her head. She wore a sleeveless, tattered pink dress that reached just above her knees, and no shoes. Though her dress was rather disheveled, the girl appeared rather neat and clean otherwise. However, her left eye was covered by a torn white cloth, surrounded by scars that seemed to take up most of the left side of her face. Though the scars were thin, against her pale skin, they were hard to miss. Once out, the girl seemed shocked to see anyone here, but instead of panicking, her one good eye flooded with tears. Falling to her knees, the girl covered her mouth with both hands and openly wept.

"H-whoa! Are you hurt?!" Asked Steven in alarm while Spinel watched cautiously.

"F-forgive me," the girl replied while shaking her head. "I've just...been waiting here for so long. I just became...a little overwhelmed."

"Waiting for what?" Spinel asked now.

Glancing at Spinel, the girl not only appeared confused, but also rather surprised. "What is your name?"

The former mermaid was already getting a bad feeling about this. "Spinel," she answered finally.

The girl appeared troubled now, shaking her head and searching her brain for an answer to which neither Spinel or Steven knew the question. "No. That's...you're not supposed to be here."

"What is going on here?" Steven demanded now. "Are you the one that sent the Lion to help us? Is this your home?"

"...I...I was waiting here. I was told to wait. She told me to stay here. ...but...Spinel was not supposed to come back here..." the girl muttered anxiously.

"Back?" repeated Spinel. "I've never been here before. Look, you'd better start answering some questions. That Lion of yours brought us here and I want to know why."

Steven watched the pink haired girl as she looked back up at them. Finally regaining a bit of composure, she took a deep breath and bowed her head. "My name is Volley...and I've been waiting a long time to see you again, Steven."

#steven universe #su #change my world #spinel #mermaid au #mermaid spinel #steven Universe au #fanfiction #chapter 18 #stevinel

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sarcasmfics · 3 years

Text

Silver & Steel

Part 1 of a 6-chapter series

Summary: He calls himself the White Wolf. Three deadly strangers, have taken over the inn at a small village, demanding to see their reclusive mage. Hellbent on revenge, they use the villagers to force the mage to come out, but will he? Or will he stay in his tower and leave the villagers to the strangers? Collette finds herself running from the blonde stranger, his howls following her through the woods until she stumbles into a small camp where a white-haired witcher and his loquacious and dramatic companion rest. Will he listen to her pleas to save her village from the silver-armed invader and his companions? Or will they perish at the cost of their revenge?

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist || My AO3

Chapter 1:

The forest was silent save for the pounding of her feet on the hard earth, breaking the fallen twigs along the well-worn path. Would he follow it? Would she even be able to make her way silently through the forest if she abandoned the familiar way? Somewhere behind her, somewhere too close, a branch snapped. Could she hide? Collette veered off the path and into the trees, flinching as an errant branch caught her cheek, another her arm. She could hear the river now, and knew she was close. If she could get across the river, perhaps she could hide in the forest there; it was more rocky and filled with better hiding spots she knew from her childhood games.

The burning in her lungs forced her to stop, leaning against a large tree to catch her breath. Her heart beat in her ears and she doubled over gasping for breath. But her rest was short lived. “I know you’re here.” He called out, “I can smell your fear, little one.” A branch crunched to her left, so she turned to the right and ran straight into a solid mass. She couldn’t hold back the scream as Rogers grasped her arm, keeping her upright. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, little one.” He was all condescension and she took off in the opposite direction. Now, it didn’t matter where she ran as long as she could get away.

Behind her, a long howl echoed through the forest.

She took off again, staggering and tripping, running blindly toward what she hoped was safety. Between the trees, the flicker of a campfire caught her attention and she turned, lungs burning as she neared it. There was another howl, this one closer, and she emerged into a small clearing before staggering to a sudden stop. The two figures who sat around the fire stood, one moving to demand an explanation when another howl sounded. He drew a sword and stepped around the fire, turning his gaze to the dark forest. The second man followed and ushered the girl away from the tree line.

The swordsman turned silently, eyes scanning the forest for any movement when he paused, his gaze narrowing just over her shoulder. There was a flash of movement and the swordsman pushed past and swung, his blade connecting with a wolf as it dove out of the darkness. It rolled to its feet and shook off the strike, though in the low light, its blood left a dark stain on its fair fur. It couldn’t be a real wolf; it stood nearly as tall as the swordsman, bright, blue eyes reflecting in the moonlight. Its growl echoed through the clearing as it watched the swordsman, baring its teeth. The swordsman tensed his hands on the hilt, the movement barely noticeable, but the wolf saw it and charged, forcing the swordsman back, but not for long as he swung, knocking the creature away.

The other man pulled her back, his arms holding her close as the swordsman battled. The swordsman struck one, two, three blows and the wolf staggered back, but before he could attack, the swordsman thrust his blade through the wolf’s throat. With a grunt, he pulled the sword back and the wolf fell before shuddering for a moment only for its huge body to shrink. There, on the ground, lay a man, naked and bloody and lifeless. “Fucking lycanthrope.” The swordsman grunted, wiping his brow as he surveyed the tree line once more. Satisfied with the silence, he turned back to the fire and turned to the woman expectantly. “Well?”

But she was frozen, staring at the corpse only feet away. The young man slowly turned her to face the swordsman, encouraging her to sit and drink from a bottle he offered. She sat, though she kept glancing back at the corpse. “Don’t worry. He’s dead.”

“What was that thing? Or should I say who?” The young man turned toward the swordsman, taking the bottle back to drink deeply.

“Lycanthrope.” The swordsman replied with a sneer. “Why was it chasing you?”

She shivered as he fixed his gaze on her; his bright golden eyes glowed in the firelight, as if gazing into her very soul. “I don’t know. He was part of a group that came into my village. He followed me into the forest. I don’t know why.”

“Why were you in the forest so late?”

“I needed herbs. My brother has a fever that won’t break and it’s our last hope.”

The young man spoke up. “There’s more than one?” She nodded.

“There were two others in his group. I don’t know if they’re all… like him, but something is off with them. They’ve taken over the inn and – and one of them is making people do strange things!” The young man offered her the bottle again and she accepted, wiping at her eyes.

“Making people do things?” The swordsman asked and she nodded. “What do they want?”

“They demanded to see our mage. They stand outside the tower and shout for him to come down, but he never does.” The swordsman hummed, staring into the fire as one hand rubbed the stubble that began to grow across his cheek. “I need to get back! I need to get those herbs!”

“Just wait one moment,” the younger man said, resting his hand on her arm. “Geralt? What is it?”

Geralt, the swordsman, shut his eyes, a quiet fuck leaving his lips before standing. “Describe them.”

“What?”

“Describe them. What do they look like?” She almost protested, her brother was ill! But the intensity of his gaze made her stop.

“Two men, one woman, though I’ve heard there’s a third man who stays hidden.” She said. “The man in charge, he’s got dark hair. They say he calls himself the White Wolf.” Geralt cursed again. “Why? You know them?”

“I know of them.”

“Geralt?” The young man asked, watching his companion stand. “Geralt are we helping her?”

“I don’t have much coin,” Collette offered, “But I have food, and a place to stay for as long as you like. We can mend your armor, feed your horse, whatever it is you need! If you can help, please!”

The swordsman sighed, pushing the hair from his face, earning an eye-roll from the young man. “Of course we’ll help you.” The young man replied, ignoring the glare from the swordsman. “I’m Jaskier. This is Geralt of Rivia, the only White Wolf.”

“Collette,” She replied. “Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t found you.”

“We’re always glad to help a damsel in need.” Jaskier replied with a small, yet dramatic bow which Collette found foolish, though in a strangely charming way.

“These are Ly- what?” She asked and Geralt nodded.

“Lycanthropes.” He replied. “Humans who can turn into a wolf. You said they attacked the village?” Collette nodded. “Tell me what happened.”

“That man, the White Wolf, showed up with two others demanding to speak to our mage.” Collette began.

***

There was a chill in the air that morning and Collette pulled her wrap closer around her shoulders as she hurried through the village. She was late, but her brother had been sick for most of the night and she knew Mr. Rye would understand. But as she hurried into the bakery, a hush fell over the room. What normally was a bustling shop froze and Collette turned, watching as three figures appeared in the street, two men and one woman. The man in the middle seemed to be in charge, as he stood slightly ahead of the others. A sword hung at his side, the hilt peeking out from beneath a long, black cloak. Thick, leather armor covered his chest. His dark brown hair was half-tied back with a leather strap which only highlighted his high cheekbones and defined jaw. His gait alone demanded respect, if not submission. He was clearly a warrior, one men would fear to face on the battlefield.

To his right, a woman with bright, red hair braided down her back walked with her hand resting on her sword. She wore no cloak, but her thick, brown leather armor covered her torso and matching leather bracers surrounded her forearms. On her opposite hip, a smaller sheath was tucked into her belt holding a dagger. Danger seemed to emanate from every part of her; she was every bit the predator. The other man on his left also had a sword, but a shield rested on his back. With a neatly trimmed beard of dirty-blond hair, he appeared the rugged one of the trio. With sure steps, his broad shoulders showed his strength and confidence. Each observed their surroundings with frightening precision. Collette was frozen in the doorway as a pair of icy blue eyes met hers. Time seemed to pause for a moment as the leader turned, his plump lips curving into a sly grin. It was over within seconds, but the chill he’d given her lasted as she tucked into the bakery.

The other villagers who stopped by each had their own tale of the newcomers, some saying they’d been in the tavern, others that they’d been to the apothecary. But no matter who spoke, they all said the same thing: there was something about them, something just off enough to make their hair stand on end. By the time the sun was setting, Collette joined Mr. Rye as he closed for the evening and the two made their way down the main road. As always, they’d walk until the center of town and part ways, but as they approached, the sound of raised voices made them pause. Sharing a glance, they followed the noise until they reached the true center of town.

The mage’s tower was the center point for all business in the village; the stone tower rose a story above all other buildings though no door could be seen. The few windows were near the top of the tower and always shrouded in darkness. The newcomers stood before the tower, the leader glaring up at the highest window as if he was watching the mage, but the single window remained dark. The blond man argued with one of the shopkeepers, roughly shoving him back apparently unhappy with what he’d said. The dark-haired man grinned, then turned back to his companions and with a nod, they left. The villagers fell silent, watching in shock as they disappeared down the main road.

Collette hurried home.

The following day, the trio returned. They took their vigil outside of the mage’s tower once more and Collette paused as she passed. The red haired woman met her gaze, eyes analyzing her every move before turning away, finding her unimportant. But the brown-haired man remained staring up at the tower ignoring the goings on around him. The mage rarely came down from his tower, and on the rare occasion, only for emergencies. His groceries were paid for, the coins left on the small, wooden table beside the tower’s base. The grocer would leave the food in the evening, and it would be gone in the morning. The village didn’t know him too well, but when crops had failed from a strange frost he became a shadow in the night, disappearing into the fields. Although some crops had been lost, enough was salvageable to feed everyone and trade with the other villages. When an illness spread through the village one winter, he silently made his way from house to house, healing the incapacitated without a word. So they accepted his tower, and they lived in peace.

The trio returned for nearly two days after that.

There was a shout and Collette froze, watching as the blond struck the grocer, sending him to the ground. The brunet called out: “Mage! I know you’re there! I can smell you, you bastard!” But there was no response.

The red haired woman turned to the brunet. “Coward won’t even come down from his tower.” The brunet scoffed and nodded. After sharing a quiet word, they turned and disappeared down the street. The bakery was busy once more, though the gossip was more frightening than the previous days. Apparently, the trio had taken rooms at the inn. It seemed that they’d taken over entirely, the brunet making a throne of sorts in the tavern below. The innkeeper accepted their coin, but sent the female staff home as the group’s leering became worse. By the week’s end, only the innkeeper remained at his establishment.

“He calls himself The White Wolf,” the innkeeper said, stepping into the bakery one morning. “Bastard sits on his throne playing with a knife and drinking my damn ale as his cronies scare away my customers.”

The innkeeper reluctantly departed and returned to his business, fresh bread in hand. He grimaced as he entered, quickly making his way into the back with the fresh bread. The White Wolf, as he declared himself, sat in the largest chair, set back against the wall so he could watch the comings and goings. His group had changed the whole room; the tables and chairs were all rearranged as if they were holding their own court. The leader reclined on his chair while to right was the blonde, eyes surveying constantly. To his left, the woman lounged in a slightly smaller chair, her boots kicked up on the table as she cleaned her nails with a dagger. Movement on the stairs caught her attention and she shifted her bright, green gaze to the figure descending. “Hawk?”

“He’s there.” The new man said, swiping back an errant strand of sandy hair. “I saw his shadow no more than an hour ago.” The White Wolf hummed, scratching his beard.

“And he hasn’t come out?” Hawk shook his head. “The villagers left him groceries last night.”

“They disappeared shortly after they were dropped off.” The sandy-haired man crossed his arms, glancing back at the innkeeper as he returned to work behind the counter.

“He’s a damn coward.” The Wolf spat. “Talia?” The red-head twirled her dagger before sliding it back into the sheath in her boot. “Why don’t you work your… magic?” Talia grinned, her lips turning into a sharp point, and stalked out of the tavern.

She strolled down the street, her hips swaying as she took her time glancing at the villagers as they passed. They gave her a wide berth; even two men on horses moved out of the way, the animals had quickened their pace as she passed by. She was a predator, pure power. The village was small, but she walked the streets until she came across the perfect target. Leaning against the wall of the butcher’s shop, a young man dropped his head back, his eyes falling shut for a moment as he rested. Talia paused, assessing him, finding every weakness until she was satisfied. The man fell still, the prey inside of him recognizing the familiar sense of danger, and opened his eyes. It was as if she appeared before him, mirroring his posture: arms folded, hip jutting out to the side, hungry eyes sliding across every inch of him.

He followed her easily enough; she barely needed a glance to compel him much to the chagrin of the butcher. The Wolf looked pleased as she led him up into her room, shooting him a grin before disappearing, the man following dutifully behind her.

Thank you so much for reading!!

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #natasha romanoff #original female character #ofc #swordfights

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sweetscentences · 4 years

Text

Small Changes: Chapter One

Can also be read on AO3 here. A major thank you to @comparedfever for beta-ing this.

Summary: Doflamingo and his crew don't touch the treasure chest Law is hidden in. A few other things change too.

Rosinante had always imagined death would be painless. Not the act of dying, no. He’d known his fate was going to be something bloody and cruel since his brother shot their father. But he figured death itself would be blank- as devoid of pain as it was of joy, if there was any consciousness after death.

But Rosinante was conscious, and very much aware. Aware of the blackness of the eyelids he couldn’t open. Aware of a burning pain throughout his torso. Aware of the deep part of him that always hummed when he used his Devil Fruit.

It was humming now. A heavy, persistent feeling, almost stronger than the pain.

It ached to keep it up. Rosinante didn’t know why he did. He started to let it slip, only to remember in an instant.

Law.

Law needed to get away.

Had he already escaped, Rosinante wondered. How long had he been drifting in this empty space. Was it seconds? Hours? Days?

He had no way to know.

What if, a horrible part of him whispered, in dying while using his Devil Fruit, he had stolen Law’s sound forever.

Law had already lost too much.

It didn’t matter that he had learned sign language, or at least enough to be insulting, when he’d thought Rosinante was mute. Rosinante had promised himself that Law wouldn’t lose anything else under his care.

(He had wondered, then, if that was how Sengoku felt when he’d taken Rosinante in.)

He thought about the panic on Law’s face when he’d told him his plan. About the fact that he had put it there. Rosinante’s stomach rolled. His hands twitched.

His hands twitched.

Dead men didn’t move.

Hope grew, uncertain and wild, in Rosinante’s chest.

He took a deep, rattling breath, and tasted frost on the cold air.

His eyes felt like they were welded shut. Rosinante forced them open. He’d always been a stubborn bastard.

He was blinded for a moment, despite the dimness of the light. It took a long while for his eyes to adjust. He used that time to feel around.

His fluffy coat was the only thing between him and the cold, hard ground. He was bare-chested, apart from bands of fabric wrapped tightly around his torso. He realized, when his eyes finally cleared and focused, that they were the remains of his shirt.

He poked carefully at them, expecting to find agony where he’d been shot. There was pain, sharp and nearly blinding, but not as bad as he’d been expecting.

Rosinante felt around, finding a wall behind him, and took a steadying breath before hauling himself into a sitting position. He dropped back against the wall, chest heaving, head spinning, and fighting the urge to vomit.

It took a few minutes for him to gather himself enough to open his eyes. He hadn’t realized he’d closed them.

He was in a cave, small and cramped, with blood stained snow spilling from the mouth of it. A distant part of Rosinante realized that it was probably his.

But that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how he had gotten there. It didn’t matter who had saved him. It didn’t matter why. The only thing that mattered was making sure Law had gotten away.

Law, who was collapsed next to him.

Rosinante bit down the urge to shout, panic settling as quickly as it arrived when he saw Law’s body rattle with breath. But he was breathing too heavily, too quickly, curled pitifully around himself half on Rosinante’s coat, and half on the cold ground. Rosinante rolled him onto his back as carefully as he could. Law didn’t stir.

Rosinante’s heart caught in his throat. Law was the lightest sleeper he knew- plagued by paranoia and nightmares the moment he closed his eyes.

His skin was flushed with fever, warm when Rosinante brushed a hand across his forehead. The bags under his eyes looked more like bruises. That, and the blood on Law’s hands came together to paint a picture Rosinante didn’t want to see.

Law hadn’t escaped.

He had heard everything that happened, and had dragged Rosinante’s dying body god knew how far to save his life. He had to have used the Devil Fruit he couldn’t control to do it.

That eased and frightened Rosinante in equal measure. A week after he had first eaten his Devil Fruit, he lost control. He let go of the careful balance and ease the fruit demanded. He still wasn’t sure what happened, Sengoku had never told him, but he did know he hadn’t woken for two days.

The Op-Op Fruit was known to exhaust it’s user. Rosinante had decided it was worth it- the risk of a coma nothing compared to keeping Law alive. But now, the absence of bright white patches the only thing proving that Law wasn’t still dying, he wasn’t so sure.

With careful hands, Rosinante adjusted Law’s hat so it sat more snugly on his head. He rested back against the cave wall, and let his eyes fall closed.

Doflamingo had tried to kill him. He was still alive. Doflamingo had tried to take Law, but he was still with Rosinante.

He needed a plan to get them off Minion Island. To get them far, far away. Out of North Blue and Doflamingo’s reach. It wouldn’t be as simple as going to the Marines- Vergo had proven that, and Rosinante couldn’t imagine Law would be happy to wake up in the government’s care.

Rosinante needed a plan. But first, he needed rest. He couldn’t keep them both alive if he was dead on his feet.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rosinante didn’t know how long he slept, but when he woke the first thing he did was gather Law in his arms and drag them both to another cave.

Doflamingo and his pirates would be looking for Rosinante’s body, if by any chance they’d discovered it gone. It was impressive how far Law had managed to drag them, but the trail of blood left behind wasn’t inconspicuous, even as it was being covered by fresh snow.

Rosinante let himself rest for another day before sneaking down into the nearest populated town. He stole new clothes, food, and information.

It was good to get a warm shirt on, to replace his makeshift bandages with real ones. Better still to not hear a single whisper of his disappearing ‘corpse’.

As far as Rosinante could tell, Doflamingo hadn’t started hunting Law yet. They could make it out.

Arranging their escape took longer than Rosinante cared for. Stealing enough makeup to hide the tattoos on his face and the worst of his bruises took time. But he needed to. If he didn’t, he would be too conspicuous when he slunk into town.

He did this six times. He bought passage on a boat bound for East Blue twice, once further north, once all the way to Sabaody, and twice to South Blue.

The smallest part of Rosinante was glad that Law was comatose. He never would have agreed to being bundled into a large, over the shoulder bag, for Rosinante to carry.

It was easier that way for him to jump last minute onto a ship bound for West Blue.

They were at the edge of North Blue when the ship stopped to restock, and Rosinante slipped off. In the morning he snuck on another ship headed in an entirely different direction.

After that, Rosinante dyed his hair black. He was still paler than Law, but it would be easier to pass them off as blood related this way, if anyone saw them.

He repeated this shuffle three more times, over the course of a month. Law would wake sometimes, but was never lucid, only staring blankly at Rosinante as he tried to get him to eat and drink. His fever would break in brief spurts, but that only made Law’s sleep more fitful. He would twist painfully, scratching at the fading marks Amber Lead had left on him, and sobbing in the sloping language of Flevance that Rosinante had been trying to master. What he could understand was begging- desperate crying out for people Law had lost. Rosinante heard his own name more than once.

Each time he did, Rosinante would take Law’s hands in one of his, the other running through Law’s hair as he tried to soothe him in his clumsy Flevean. Sometimes it calmed Law. Other times, it made him cry harder.

On the fourth ship Rosinante travelled openly with Law, spinning a story of his son falling ill in West Blue, and of their desperate need to return home to the South. Instead they stopped in East Blue, on a small island in a smaller village that Rosinante had never heard of.

The passing of days brought more color to Law’s skin. His fever was the lowest it had been since they left North Blue, breaking and staying away longer and longer each time.

“Is there an inn in this village?” Rosinante asked the first person he met- a friendly looking old man sitting by the docks, who had been watching Law with concern. “My son caught a fever while we were traveling. I thought it best to stop until he’s well.”

The old man softened immediately, his eyes darting from Rosinante to Law, to the worried slope of Rosinante’s shoulders.

“Poor boy,” the old man hummed, his words shaped carefully and slowly with the practiced ease of someone used to speaking to foreigners. Rosinante had a knack for languages, it was an essential part of being a spy, but he’d still spoken to the old man in clumsy Eastern with the softest lilt of a Western accent.

“The inn is usually full this time of year,” the old man said. Before Rosinante’s heart could start to sink, he added, “but I know Makino keeps a few rooms over her bar free, if you don’t mind the noise.”

Rosinante bit down the desperate urge to laugh. “I’d be grateful for anything, in truth,” he said, and let the old man lead them through town.

He brought them to a homey looking bar, pushing inside and ignoring the early evening crowd as he waved to the woman behind the counter. Her eyes widened when she took in Rosinante’s height, before immediately fixing on Law in his arms. She slid a drink to a man down the bar without looking, and hurried over.

She said something to them in a language Rosinante didn’t recognize, before the old man held up a hand to calm her.

“It’s alright, Makino,” he soothed. “This man is only looking for a place to stay while his son recovers from a fever.”

Makino’s brow pinched in sympathy. “Of course. You can stay here as long as you need, mister...”

She trailed off, blinking at Rosinante expectantly. Something about it felt like a challenge.

Rosinante offered her the hand that wasn’t holding Law. He hadn’t forgotten his manners.

“Cora Rosinante,” he told her, thinking of what Law tended to call him. It would be easier to explain his son calling him by his surname, rather than a new name entirely.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Makino,” she said, her grip on Rosinante’s hand surprisingly firm. He nodded politely to her, before offering his hand to the old man.

“I apologize for not introducing myself earlier,” he said, but the old man waved him off before giving his hand an enthusiastic shake.

“It’s no harm at all,” he soothed. “I’m Mayor Woop Slap.” He grinned widely at Rosinante’s surprised hum, before turning to Makino. “Why don’t you get Cora settled in, and I’ll bring the doctor.”

“Doctor?” Rosinante asked, even as Makino nodded.

The mayor huffed. “Of course the doctor! Your boy’s had that fever for some time, hasn’t he?”

His stare was surprisingly sharp, and Rosinante couldn’t bring himself to lie quick enough.

“I don’t have much money,” he admitted instead.

He’d always kept a considerable amount on him when he’d been acting as a pirate, but most of it had been eaten away by transport and the assorted medicines he’d been bringing Law.

“That doesn’t matter as much as you might think, around here,” Makino said kindly. “Now, why don’t you come upstairs with me?”

Rosinante found himself nodding and following after her, up a staircase behind the bar and through a narrow hallway to a cozy room with two beds. Rosinante carefully set Law on one, as Makino fussed with the covers.

“I’m afraid the bed might be a bit small,” she said. “We don’t see many people as tall as you.”

“Not many places do,” Rosinante laughed.

He was spared from any awkwardness in the silence that followed by the mayor appearing in the doorway. He was followed by a stoop-shouldered old woman.

She didn’t say anything as she bustled over to Law, ignoring Rosinante in favor of checking Law’s pulse, temperature, and poking and prodding him in ways Rosinante assumed had medical purposes.

He thought he was being very patient, giving the doctor a fair amount of space to work with. That was until she turned to him and snapped, “stop looming over me!”

Rosinante backed up and tripped onto the other bed as she glared at him- arms windmilling. The moment he was settled she turned back to poking at Law.

“Any chance he caught some disease?” she asked.

Rosinante pushed down the cool anger that flickered in his chest. These days Law’s spots looked more like scars, or vitiligo, than Amber Lead.

“I think he’s just exhausted.” His voice was sharper than he meant it to be, and he felt Makino turn to eye him.

“What happened?”

Rosinante swallowed before answering- buying himself time. “He’s never slept well. But it’s been worse since he- he saw something terrible. It’s why we’ve been traveling.”

“What did he see?” the doctor asked, almost managing to sound indifferent.

“Someone who looked after him got shot.”

Makino made a sharp noise. The doctor’s shoulders slouched a bit more.

“Did this person die?”

Rosinante shrugged. “It certainly seemed that way.”

He had done his best to ignore any thoughts of Law- unnaturally silent and panicking- as he tried to stop Rosinante’s bleeding. Tried to wake him.

He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if he never woke.

The memory of Law shaking the treasure chest behind him as he bled out had been horrible enough. The feeling of his Devil Fruit swallowing the sound of screaming, worse.

(Law could be so terribly loud. In his anger. In his grief. His sound didn’t fit his small body; like he was bursting at the seams with feeling, and the only outlet it had was noise. It was ironic, in a twisted way, that he had suffered so silently through the Amber Lead. Rosinante wondered if he’d have the chance to grow into his voice now, or if it would always be the biggest part of him.)

“Was it pirates?” the mayor asked. “The attacks in West Blue have been so cruel lately.”

“It was a pirate,” Rosinante nodded, before offering the mayor a small smile. “Is my accent really that bad?”

The mayor rumbled a laugh. “Your accent is plenty good, boy, but my ears are better.”

Before Rosinante could say anything else, the doctor straightened up.

“You were right,” she told Rosinante. “I can’t see anything wrong with him beyond exhaustion, and a bit of malnourishment. All I can tell you to do is try to keep his temperature down and get him something to drink and eat when he’s awake.”

“But he will wake up? He’ll be alright?” Rosinante pressed, and the doctor raised a bushy eyebrow at him.

“I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”

The strings that had been holding Rosinante the whole journey were cut. He slumped forward, tucking his head to his hands. He tried, and failed, not to cry.

Rosinante wasn’t sure what he would have done, if he had gone through everything only to have Law kill himself trying to save him. It had been a thought too horrible to linger on. But it had plagued him every day that Law blinked at him with hazy eyes.

Law had never looked at him blankly, not even when he’d hated Rosinante. His eyes were the most expressive part of him. At first he’d watched Rosinante cruelly, sharply. The way that cold look had thawed felt like a miracle. Before they’d been caught, towards the end, Law’s eyes had been alight with something warm and new, even as he grew sicker. Rosinante could recognize the hope and affection only because they had been foreign to him too, once. The trust Law had looked at him with had almost been too much to bear.

Rosinante wanted nothing more than to live up to that trust, to that faith.

To have Law look through him, to see his clever eyes unfocused and dull; it turned Rosinante’s stomach.

Rosinante had fallen into the ocean only once after eating his Devil Fruit. Sengoku had seen it happen, had ordered a Marine to jump into the water after him and haul him out, but not before water had forced itself into Rosinante’s lungs.

It had burned. Burned in a way Rosinante had never felt before. But the worst part of it by far was the helplessness. No matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t move his limbs. He couldn’t fight the sea, couldn’t fight to save his own life. He could only watch darkness creep into his vision.

Being free from Doflamingo, being free from the fear of Law dying, it was better than the first breath he had taken after Sengoku had pounded on his back.

But, in a strange way, it hurt too. Just like his gasping breaths had.

Relief could be just as overwhelming as fear.

A small hand settled on Rosinante’s shoulder. He looked up to find Makino, the only person left in the room, smiling softly at him. She set a bowl of water and a small cloth on the table next to Law. Rosinante couldn’t quite find his voice to thank her.

“You should rest,” she told him. “It won’t help your son if you’re both exhausted.”

Rosinante had to clear his throat a few times before he could answer. “I’m not sure how to repay you for this.”

Makino shrugged. “Maybe you can help me fix some of the higher shelves over the bar. But we can talk about that in the morning.”

She left before Rosinante could say anything else, quietly closing the door behind her. The bar beneath them was rowdy, but a clap of Rosinante’s hands blocked that out.

He soaked the cloth Makino had left, wringing it out a few times before setting it on Law’s forehead. Then he reached into the bag he’d carried Law in before, rooting around for a minute before finding Law’s hat.

It would do more harm than good to put it on Law, he knew, but he’d never seen Law without it. He figured it must be some sort of comfort, so he pressed it into Law’s hands. Law’s fingers immediately curled around the fluffy brim, and he settled as Rosinante pulled the sheets up over him.

Rosinante laid down on the other bed, staying on his side to keep watch of Law’s chest rising and falling. Almost without realizing it, he began to hum, then sing, the quiet lullaby his father had sung for him when he was young.

It was a song about peace. About love, and safety. About family stronger than anything else. Law wouldn’t understand the words, if he could hear them, but Rosinante imagined the sentiment was easily understood.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the morning Law was conscious long enough for Rosinante to bring him food and water. His movements as he ate and drank were mechanical. His eyes never focused on one spot in the room. Never focused on Rosinante. But when Law lay back down, his fever had broken.

Rosinante took the washcloth from Law’s forehead and re-wet it before heading downstairs to speak to Makino. She was wiping down the bar, chatting with a few patrons as she did. Rosinante knocked lightly on the doorframe to get her attention.

“How’s your son?” she asked. The worry in her eyes looked genuine.

“Better than he’s been in some time,” Rosinante said, and her smile grew to match his. “You mentioned something about the shelves over your bar, right?”

Makino’s brows pinched together. Maybe she had expected Rosinante to forget. He’d never liked being in debt to people. His time in Doflamingo’s crew only exacerbated that.

“I’ve been replacing the shelves behind the bar, but I can’t reach some of them without a ladder,” she explained. “If you’d be willing, I’d really appreciate some help.”

“I’d be happy to,” Rosinante said. He needed something to focus on other than Law.

Rosinante spent the next two days working on Makino’s shelves, minding Law, and people watching. The tiny village bar had an interesting range of clientele. The mayor was a regular, surprisingly capable of holding his liquor. A gang of mountain bandits frequently stopped by as well. They never caused any problems, though. They sat and drank and laughed as their leader slouched over the bar and ranted to Makino about the trouble ‘her boys’ were causing. Her stories made Makino laugh so hard she cried.

From the way the bandit spoke, Rosinante wasn’t sure if the boys in question were children, or impressively destructive dogs. When she mentioned her boys dragging home a wild boar they had killed, Rosinante decided he could live with the mystery.

On the afternoon of the third day, Rosinante was putting the finishing touches on the last shelf, listening to Makino’s stories about a monster that lurked in the waters around the island.

Rosinante figured it was a small Sea King.

“It nearly ate one of the local boys,” Makino hissed, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on the bar, personally offended by the fact.

Rosinante was about to reply, when a loud clattering from upstairs reached him. Rosinante was up the stairs in an instant, Makino close behind him. He threw open the door to his and Law’s room.

There were glass shards scattered across the floor. Law was sitting upright on the edge of the bed, staring at the glass and his hands like he didn’t understand what had happened.

“Law?” Rosinante called, afraid Law wouldn’t respond. Afraid that he would be as blank as he had been every other time Rosinante said his name.

Instead, he turned towards Rosinante, blinking slowly. His eyes cleared. Widened.

“Cora?” he whispered, disbelieving. Rosinante rushed forward, catching Law as he scrambled towards him, and pulling him into a hug.

Law clung, chokingly tight, to Rosinante’s neck. He had dropped to his knees to catch Law, and shards of glass bit his legs. Law shook violently, pressed so tightly against Rosinante he could feel Law’s frantic heartbeat.

“You’re alive,” Law babbled, over and over again in desperate Northern. His voice shook as he sobbed.

“We’re alive,” Rosinante promised, squeezing Law tighter to reassure himself. “We’re alive. We escaped.”

“He shot you,” Law said, before his words seemed to register and he pulled back enough to look at Rosinante. He didn’t let go. “You said he wouldn’t- he shot you.”

Then his hands were scrambling across Rosinante’s chest and shoulders, looking for wounds that were still healing. “Are you- what- did I?”

Rosinante caught his hands carefully. “You saved me,” he said, then turned Law’s hands so he could see the backs of them. “You saved yourself, too.”

Where there had once been a snow-white patch, there was now only a slight discoloration on Law’s right hand. Law gaped at it.

“How much do you remember?” Rosinante asked.

He wanted to know how exactly Law saved their lives.

He wanted to know if Law remembered he was a Marine.

Law frowned. “I- I don’t know.” He scrubbed furiously at the tears running tracks down his cheeks. “I don’t know.”

“That’s alright,” Rosinante soothed, running a hand through Law’s hair.

Law leaned into it.

“He tried to kill you. Because of me,” Law hiccuped.

“No, Law. No,” Rosinante said. “He tried to kill me because I betrayed him.”

“Because of me!”

Rosinante’s stomach sank. “Law, he would have killed me even if I hadn’t taken you.”

Law’s eyes met his, teary and fierce. It pushed Rosinante to admit what he hadn’t wanted to.

“Doffy has been planning to kill me since I joined his crew.” His voice was rough, gravelly and tight. “Maybe even before then.”

For all that Rosinante hated Doflamingo, he’d never managed to stop loving him. He couldn’t separate the monster he knew now from the brother he had known. The brother who had told him bedtime stories so he wouldn’t be afraid of the dark. The brother who would wait however long it took for Rosinante to speak, even when he forgot words or his tongue seemed to tangle. The brother who first taught Rosinante how to throw a punch.

The brother who said he loved Rosinante so much he would do anything for him. The brother that Rosinante loved just as much.

Was it better or worse to think that Doflamingo had been lying?

Rosinante took a moment to steady himself, to cup Law’s face and smile, as bright and warm as possible.

“None of it was your fault.”

Law ducked his head, a fresh wave of tears dripping from his chin.

“Why?” he asked. He’d never sounded so much like a child. “Why did you- why me?”

“Law…”

“I still could have died. Why go that far? For me?” Law collapsed further in on himself, dropping onto the bed and tucking his knees to his chest. “Why? Was it- was it because of my name?”

It took Rosinante a moment to understand. When he did, he pulled Law back into his arms. Law unwound his limbs and hugged him back.

As if the Will of D could have anything to do with Rosinante loving him.

“Law, no,” he held Law tighter. “I did it because you’re family to me.”

An understatement, but Rosinante figured anything else would be too much for Law to hear. As it was Law started sobbing again, clinging to Rosinante like a lifeline.

“You… You’re family to me too.”

Law’s voice was so soft that Rosinante barely heard it. His heart soared. He tucked his head against Law’s and let them both settle. They were alive. They were alive.

A few hours later, Rosinante crept back down to the bar. Law was dead tired. After Rosinante explained how’d they’d wound up in East Blue, he left him to sleep. Law had been sick for so long. It would take time to recover.

“How is he?” Makino asked. She had left Rosinante alone with Law as soon as she’d seen there was nothing wrong.

“Better than I could have hoped.” Rosinante dropped the broken glass he collected into a bin beneath the bar. “He’s resting now, but he’s finally himself again.”

“I’m so glad!” Makino’s smile was heart-warmingly kind. “Why don’t you sit down?” she said, nodding to the other side of the bar counter. “You look like you need a drink.”

Rosinante laughed, but let himself be guided onto a bar stool, and thanked Makino when she set a large glass of beer in front of him.

“Do you mind if I smoke here?” he asked her, ignoring the fact that there were at least twenty other patrons with cigarettes balanced between their lips.

“Not at all,” Makino promised.

Rosinante managed to light his cigarette without lighting himself. Maybe some god was looking down on him, and decided he’d been having a hard enough time lately without accidentally burning a bar down too. Whatever the case, Rosinante was grateful as he slouched against the bar. He made idle conversation with Makino, smoked, and nursed his beer.

Finally, finally, he could relax.

Of course that was the moment the bar doors swung open, and a loud, familiar voice called, “you’re as busy as every, Makino!”

Makino’s eyes lit up. “Garp!”

Rosinante couldn’t believe it, not even when he turned to look. Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp, still in uniform, had just marched into a tiny East Blue bar.

His sharp eyes landed on Rosinante. Surprisingly, he paled.

“Something wrong?” Rosinante asked, amazed his voice didn’t waver.

Garp gave himself a shake, and grinned at Rosinante. “Sorry about that,” he said, settling onto the stool next to him. “My friend just lost his brat. You look an awful lot like him, is all.”

Rosinante could taste bile in the back of his throat. He forced it down. Forced himself to think.

Garp hadn’t brought any of his underlings into the bar with him.

He had known Garp as long as he’d known Sengoku. Thought of him as an uncle. He knew the kind of man Garp was.

If he couldn’t trust Garp, he decided, he couldn’t trust anyone in the Navy.

“Oh, come on,” Rosinante said, forcing the words with a heavy tongue. “Is a bit of hair dye all it takes to trick you?”

For a long moment, they both froze. Garp’s eyes slowly widened. Rosinante tried to smile, but it fell flat. Garp’s eyes watered.

Then his expression hardened.

“Why don’t you come have a smoke with me?” he asked. “Outside?”

Rosinante put his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray, and followed Garp out the bar’s back door. He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen.

Garp punching him in the chest, then dragging him into a blubbering hug was not at the top of the list. It wasn’t entirely unpredictable either.

Rosinante barely had time to register that he’d been hit before Garp was wrapped around him. He wasn’t sure how Garp’s troops didn’t have chronic whiplash.

“You brat,” Garp growled. Any intimidation was undermined by his blotchy red cheeks and the fact that he couldn’t stop crying. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? In what world is this alright? Letting us all think that you’re dead?!”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Rosinante promised. Garp was, as usual, a bit overwhelming. “Not at first.”

“At first?” Garp pressed. “Sengoku’s been beside himself. Did you even-“

“Garp.” Rosinante cut him off. He didn’t think he’d be able to stomach Garp saying any more. “I barely made it out alive. Doffy thinks he killed me. It wasn’t safe for me to go straight back home.”

A part of Rosinante, the part of him that was still the frightened child Sengoku took in, had wanted to run home immediately. He had never believed Sengoku could protect him from everything, but he made it easier for Rosinante to live with his fear. The bitter, realistic part of him knew how disastrous it could have been to return to HQ. Would have been, with Law involved.

Garp frowned, scrubbing at his eyes. “So you’re doing… what, exactly? Hiding?”

“Hiding,” Rosinante agreed. “Hiding and healing. Not all of us can brush off being shot as easily as you do.”

“Do you need a doctor?” Garp asked, his concern outshining any anger he had over Rosinante making him and Sengoku grieve.

Rosinante shook his head. “I’ve already been treated.”

He had been keeping an eye on his wounds as he and Law travelled. They’d been healing shockingly well, considering the circumstances. Law might have been a child, but he knew more about medicine than adults who’d practiced it their whole lives. Rosinante trusted him with this.

“What happened?” Garp asked.

Rosinante told him everything.

It took a few hours. By the end of the story, he and Garp were both sitting at the table behind Makino’s bar, smoking and staring up at the stars.

Rosinante felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

“Pretty round about way of giving Sengoku a grandkid, if you ask me,” Garp muttered.

Rosinante choked on a laugh. “Oh, that’s going to be a disaster,” he said, more to himself than Garp.

Rosinante being a Marine would be a betrayal, to Law. But Rosinante’s father being the Fleet Admiral? He would be surprised if Law didn’t try to kill Sengoku on principle alone.

Rosinante waved off the look Garp shot him. “I’ll explain tomorrow. But tonight… I need to sleep.”

Garp nodded. He shuffled to his feet and offered Rosinante a hand up. “We can talk in the morning.”

Before he could leave, Rosinante said, “you know you can’t call Sengoku about this, right?”

“Doflamingo’s got spies of his own, yeah?” Garp sighed. “I won’t report this.”

“Thank you,” Rosinante said, and watched Garp trudge off towards the harbor.

When Rosinante finally dragged himself to bed, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

#mine #my writing #small changes fic #one piece #one piece fic #donquixote corazon #donquixote rocinante #donquixote rosinante #why must the tall man have so many names #trafalgar law #monkey d. garp #only a bit #op #i have a lot of feelings about found families/ families of choice #and theyre all in this fic

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bookwyrmling · 4 years

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YL!Jiang Yanli

Because the image got stuck in my head from this post.

CQL!Verse because I think that one’s a bit easier to make work since she’s literally with them in Yiling up until the night before the transfer.

@eirenical since you seemed interested in this kind of AU.

They send a message to the Jin clan. In case her brothers make it there before she meets with them, it will let them know she is safe. It will also let the surviving sects know they are still alive. There is too much for them to fight for now and, in some ways, she is more prepared for some of these fights than either of her brothers. For now: she would find them and protect their position.

It’s safer to change her appearance. The Wen soldiers are thick in the area and Song Zichen returns from the market with men’s robes and word that Wen Chao has been seen nearby. With her hair in a masculine style and with no adornment, her plain face lacking any makeup and wearing only commoner’s men’s robes, she may not look quite like a man but it’s enough that anyone looking for a woman of noble birth wouldn’t pay attention to her. They travel around the main roads so as to avoid Wen Chao’s troops all the same. It takes longer. They have neither a carriage nor a direct shot and Yanli is still not fully recovered from her fever, but Song Zichen does what he can to protect and assist her and makes sure she has a bed to sleep in at an inn each night. They speak of those most important to them and the regrets they both hold. She befriends people traveling in the same direction, gathers what information she can from gossip and, following what seems the most trustworthy and most likely based off her knowledge of the two, finds herself in Yiling as a fight breaks out at a teahouse surrounded by Wen soldiers.

Song Zichen moves to push her away from the place until she hears a familiar voice, screaming in terror and agony and hatred and she can’t run away. She can’t hide. There’s little she can do, but maybe, just maybe, she can save her brother. She had promised long ago to always do so, after all.

Yanli is a weak cultivator with a weak body. She cannot so much as fly on her sword and rarely carries it with her for that reason. It’s why she and Song Zichen had traveled the more common way, as long as it has taken. But she had studied the Yunmeng Jiang style of swordsmanship, even if she didn’t night hunt and did not desire to compete with her peers. She may not be able to wield a sword for long, but she can wield one for long enough. Yanli pulls the blade from Song Zichen’s sheath and, ignoring his grasping hands, works her way through the cowering crowd watching from a distance. She is unremarkable in her clothing and steps; unnoticeable enough to make it all the way indoors before raising the sword and attacking the soldiers holding her brother hostage.

“Run!” she tells him as the rest of the Wen troops draw their own weapons and Wen Chao screams to catch the interloper.

Song Zichen is right behind her, defending with his horsetail whisk.

“Shijie?” her brother asks in shock and disbelief and concern and Yanli knows her brother too well. She sees the betrayal there, as well. She stares him down. He’s a cornered animal now, puffed up and threatening when he knows there’s nothing left he can do, no way to run and no way to fight. Neither of them can fight, but she can give him a way to run.

“No!” he argues. “Wen Chao! Let them go and I”ll go with you!”

“I’ll have all three of you soon enough,” the man spits back.

Yanli grits her teeth as she feels her energy slowly deplete the longer she holds Song Zichen’s sword. She parries a blow hard enough to make her stumble out of range of another before she shoves at her brother’s chest, meeting his eyes with all the determination and understanding and love she can manage in her own. “If you can’t fight, then run,” she tells him then turns around to face the Wens with Song Zichen. “I promised I would always protect you. Don’t let them catch us both.”

She thinks they probably won’t kill her as quickly as they would her brothers. She hopes Song Zichen can get them both out of this mess. It’s clear enough that her brother, sallow and weak and dressed in rags, stands even less of a chance than either of them. She knew their plans were dangerous and this only proved it to her.

Wei Wuxian must realize the same. “I’ll find Jiang Cheng!” he shouts at her as he runs. “We’ll be right back!”

Wen Zhuliu goes to chase after him, but Yanli won’t stand for it. She takes out one soldier blocking her way then runs in front of the Core Melting Hand, her hands shaking around her sword, but daring him to fight her if he wants to move any further, leaving the rest of the soldiers to Song Zichen.

Wen Zhuliu pauses and eyes her and Yanli swallows in fear. If she loses her core, it will mean little. It’s barely formed and was never her focus or drive. But that doesn’t make the thought of what this man can do any less terrifying. It doesn’t quell her fear as she remembers exactly what these people did to her brother.

“Wen Zhuliu! Are you scared of some nobody? Get him! We’ll show these two what we do to any who get in our way.”

A hand slams into her shoulder and she goes down, losing the sword as her hands hit the ground, trying to hold her body up as she spits blood. A boot grinds her fingers into the dirt and she chokes out her shout of pain and the sudden nausea it incites.

“Run!” she yells at Song Zichen. “You’ve helped enough!”

She knows well that he, too, has someone he cares deeply for. He can’t fall here.

Her arms are wrenched behind her back and her face shoved into the ground.

“Get the other one, too!” Wen Chao continues to shout.

“You must find him!” she shouts a reminder strong enough to get Song Zichen to move. “I and my brothers are no longer someone you owe anything to!”

Her face is shoved even deeper into the ground and she chokes on dirt, unable to see anything, but hearing the sound of feet running.

“Don’t let him escape!” Wang Lingjiao shrieks.

“Lift him up,” Wen Chao commands and Yanli is raised by her pinned arms. Her hair is a mess now and she can feel blood and dirt covering her face.

“Barely a boy, isn’t he?” Wang Lingjiao says in surprise and Yanli’s eyes widen as she realize they still don’t know who she is. “Almost pretty, too.”

Wen Chao grabs her chin and draws her attention to him. “A surviving Jiang disciple? You should have stayed hidden as long as possible if you wanted to survive. I had a plan for your dear shixiong, you know. Since you got in the way, why don’t you take it, instead.”

Yanli knows she’s shaking in terror, feels the tears streaming down her face, but she tightens her jaw all the same. She will protect her family. She won’t sit on the side and wait to be protected any more.

________________________________________________________________

3 Months Later

Jiang Cheng watches from the roof as a familiar figure steps into view, resentful energy curling around her like soft silk robes once had.

Wen Chao, or what’s left of him, shudders in fear and curls in on himself as Wen Zhuliu steps between the two of them.

She raises a flute to her lips and asks. “Did you honestly think you could escape?” she asks. “With all of the resentful energy aimed at you, I don’t even need to work to track you down.”

“a-Jie!” Jiang Cheng shouts, unable to hold back any longer as he breaks through the roof and jumps in.

“a-Cheng!”

“a-Jie! You’re safe!” he calls, the tears blurring his vision as he walks to her, steps heavy with his fears and exhaustion he’d carried the last three months.

His sister reaches out and presses a comforting hand to his face that he immediately turns to. “a-Cheng,” she says in the gentle but determined way she always did when she expected her brothers to listen and obey. “Move aside. There are things I need to finish.”

They leave only after the screams of agony and horror have long since died down that night. In the moonlight, she’s almost like a ghost and Jiang Cheng has to reach for her wrist for fear she’ll disappear before his eyes again.

He still wants to kill Wei Wuxian for letting her get abducted, for letting himself get caught and his own core get destroyed so that she had to step in as he ran. But, at least for now, he can hold his sister and cry. He’ll ask about what happened in there and to her tomorrow.

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fullmetalscullyy · 5 years

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hit and run - chapter 12

summary: Riza Hawkeye is a thief who is trying to get by in Victorian Central. Hard times fell on her family, tuberculosis claiming her mother and then her father when she was a teenager. Now, femme fatale Riza steals to put food on the table for herself, her canine companion - an abandoned puppy who just won’t leave her alone - and two brothers with circumstances similar to her own. However, dipping her hands into the pockets of the rich and famous is always a dangerous game.

rated: m | words: 3829

title: “hit and run” by lolo

read on ao3 and ffnet

Riza had quickly moved after her night at Kimblee's ball, just in case Mustang decided to come knocking. Riza wouldn't put it past him. Something had shifted between them that night, and Riza didn't want to acknowledge it. So, that's why she found herself in The Vaults two weeks later after no further contact with her makeshift family, or anyone from Christmas' organisation.

Oh, she'd seen them.

The woman who'd knocked her out twice - Vanessa? - had come snooping around her old house to look for her but left after ten minutes and finding nothing. Riza had been perched on a rooftop above the alley that led to her front door, watching the woman's movements as she searched her old home. Her chest tightened when she realised they must be desperate to get her to come back.

She felt incredibly guilty for leaving the boys. She'd cared for them after they'd been abandoned for two years and now, she'd abandoned them. The deserved better. They deserved better than her. Not to mention she'd left Gracia and Rebecca behind. They were all used to the others playing disappearing acts on each other. That was the nature of their line of work. One could be gone for a week to lay low. One could be gone for a month. Hell, Rebecca had been in East City for six months with no way to contact her, however this was different. They were supposed to be a team, a unit, and Riza had shouldered this all by herself and shut them out. She hated it but would never forgive herself if something happened to them.

The Vaults were as awful as ever as Riza made her way around the inn serving drinks. Her pleasant smiles were in place to hide her grimace every time a particularly nasty smell wafted her way from one of the customers. After three hours she'd been able to tune out the constant wailing, but every time someone screamed, Riza flinched and felt a burst of adrenaline to go and help them since no one else was, but she held steady. She couldn't draw attention to herself. Kimblee's men were already watching her like a hawk. Riza hadn't seen any tonight - well, any she recognised - but that didn't mean they were sniffing around where they weren't wanted.

Riza entered the back room of the inn and tossed her tray down on the table nearest her carelessly, the sound cracking through the near silent room. Riza sat on an uncomfortable wooden chair and closed her eyes, pressing the heels of her hands into her them.

As she'd been serving drinks, she'd seen two teenage boys scavenging for scraps in a dim corner. Their hair would probably be golden blonde with a good wash, but they were caked in dirt, grime, and probably other unpleasant substances. Taking pity on them, Riza had approached and given them a meal each. Both looked incredibly surprised as she'd smiled at them, before grabbing the plates and shuffling further into the dark corner, eating rapidly before anyone could take it off them. Golden eyes had peered back at Riza warily when she stood, and she was filled with such guilt that she found herself needing a moment through the back.

"That food isn’t free, you know," Lyle, the bartender told her, but it was laced with fear. His eyes flicked over her shoulder towards a table and that confirmed it for Riza - Kimblee' s men were sitting in the far back corner, farthest from the bar.

"Take it from my wages then," the tossed back at him carelessly, loud enough for them to hear.

The screams and wails of The Vaults still haunted her. The desire to help them all was overwhelming, but she couldn't. After seeing those two boys, she couldn't hold herself back any longer. So, she took a moment for herself in the backroom to try and control her emotions.

She needed to go back. She needed to see them.

Riza formulated a plan in her head quickly. After finishing her shift, she would return to her house and change her clothes and return to Christmas' mansion.

She only hoped she wouldn't be turned away at the door -

The floor beneath her rocked violently, throwing Riza from her chair. Before hitting the uneven stone, she'd managed to catch herself with a hand slammed down hard on the table. Another deafening bang cracked through the room and the ground shook again. The noise wreaked havoc on her ears. All she could hear was a loud ringing. Shaking her head to try and rid it, Riza staggered to her feet and stumbled towards the door.

Confused, her brow furrowed at the sight she saw. People were running from the inn - some with their drinks in their hands, Riza noted - mouth open as they shouted. As the ringing subsided, she began to hear shouts and screams, but this was different from the usual ones. Shouts of pain, desperation, and terror were common in The Vaults, but these were so different. Horrified. People screaming for loved ones as they watched them die, their lives ripped unfairly away from them.

Another shock wave. Riza caught herself against the door frame and her eyes widened in horror. There, spilling through the doorway, was fire. Lots of it. It licked around the stone, fighting to make its way in, desperate to find something to catch onto and ignite further.

Then there was a face. A gentleman with a sinister smile on his face. He grinned and tossed something into the room. Riza instinctively dove away from it but her movements were still sluggish. It blasted her backwards into the back room - slamming her against the stone wall. Her spine cracked painfully, her head hit the stone with a crack, and the air was knocked from her lungs. Wheezing, she passed out as she heard the rubble begin to fall around her.

* * *

"Move!" Roy yelled urgently to those under his command. They felt the shock waves. They saw the people spilling out the main entrance to The Vaults. Kimblee, or his men, had set of explosives inside, and it was up to Roy to save as many people as possible.

They'd heard whispers that something big was going to happen tonight. Kimblee was pissed and they didn't know why. Roy had a feeling why and it had something to do with a certain blonde who had evaded Kimblee's grasp more than once.

Roy had feared for Riza when he discovered that Kimblee often fixated on a woman to try and "obtain" her. A little trophy to add to his sick and twisted collection. Riza had put up a fight and had evaded him more than once, which apparently made it even more appealing for Kimblee. Roy had felt his blood boil when he thought about what Kimblee would do to her. So, while this was all a game to Kimblee, he was probably still angry that after two months both he and his men had turned up nothing.

While pleased for Riza and her abilities, Roy was also concerned. The longer it went on, the more volatile he would become. Starting with something that was happening right now. Kimblee was trying to blow up The Vaults.

He must truly be unhinged if he was trying to destroy his own property.

There was a part of Roy that panicked as he flew down the hill towards the door to The Vaults. Riza had said before she'd left the mansion that she would be returning here. She never said when. Was this attack a plan to try and flush her out? To try and kill her after she'd "made a fool of Kimblee"? Those thoughts pushed Roy faster as his feet pounded on the cobbled street.

There was no way in through the front entrance. There were too many people trying to escape the heat. Fire. Roy could see a faint orange glow in the darkness behind them, could feel the burning on his cheeks as he stood at the door.

"Mustang!" he heard a voice call. Head snapping back up the street, he frowned when he saw Edward Elric motioning for him to join him up back up the hill. "This way! There's a storm drain leading inside."

"What are you doing here?" he growled angrily once he’d caught up.

"To help," Edward offered simply.

"You're not supposed to be here -"

"We want to help," he heard Alphonse chip in from above him. He saw the younger brother leaning over the side of the bridge, offering his hand to pull them both up.

"You're supposed to be somewhere safe -"

"Mustang, if this involves Riza, we're going to help and there's nothing you can do to stop us."

They didn't have time for this argument, but Roy had promised her he'd keep them safe and away from all of this-

The two boys met his glare with determined gazes, not willing to back down.

"Stay close, and stay alert," he barked, lowering himself inside the storm drain in one fluid movement. He didn't have time to fight them on this, and given the fire in their eyes, there was no telling them otherwise.

Once inside, Roy moved through the inn keeping low and out of range of the black smoke collecting at the ceiling. The heat from the flames burned his skin as he moved but was momentarily pushed backwards by the fire as it fanned through the doorway, preventing him from venturing further in that way. There were still screams echoing from outside in the hallway – probably by those trapped… or those dying. Roy grit his teeth and tried to approach the door again, but there was no making his way past it. Again, the flames fanned through and managed to catch onto one of the tables inside the inn. The wood went up no problem, probably from the alcohol spilt on its top.

“There’s no way you’re getting through there,” Edward called to him.

“Both of you,” Roy ordered, backing up but keeping an eye on the flames. “Get back up top and find another entrance. There’s still people in here.”

“Right!” Alphonse called back and Roy heard the metal grate move then clang back into place.

Roy backed up before he reached the ladder, remembering about the back room to the bar. He glanced in quickly, but just found rubble. Parts of the ceiling had given way and fallen inside, shattering the wooden tables, splinters of it lying all over the floor.

No one could have survived a collapse like that. It was a grim thought, but he determined there was no one inside.

Just as he was about to turn, the flames fanned once again, filling that back room with more light, and something caught his eye. He turned involuntarily and squinted into the gloom, heart rate picking up at the possibility there may be a survivor in there. There, behind a large piece of the ceiling, was a splash of blonde hair. Roy crept in, warily glancing up at the ceiling to keep an eye out for any sign it might collapse further.

It was a wig. A blonde wig. The hair was there, but no body attached to it. Finding it odd, Roy’s brow furrowed but continued his search. If this was here, then there was a very good chance the owner was here too. Creeping forward, he spotted the owner, and felt his heart stutter inside his chest.

There was Riza lying on her side, blood trickling down from her forehead and onto the floor. She was by the back wall, where the ceiling slope upwards, so she’d probably missed the worst of the collapse. However, that head injury suggested she had been hit, and it didn’t look promising from the stone littered around her unconscious body.

Why was she even here?

“Riza?” Roy called to her, body surging forward. He grasped underneath her shoulders and pulled her to the side, underneath that sloped ceiling so they’d – hopefully – be safe from another collapse, should it happen. “Riza, talk to me.” His heart was pounding too loudly in his ears, adrenaline was coursing through his body too quickly for Roy to notice just how desperate his voice sounded. Dread burned in his stomach. His mind flashed back to the thought he’d had just minutes ago. No one could have survived a collapse like that. “Shit! Riza!”

There was a distant rumble underneath his feet and Roy eventually just hauled her body backwards while he sat with his back to wall, holding Riza flush against his chest as the floor shook even harder. Little pieces of stone begun to fall from the ceiling and Roy braced, placing a hand on Riza’s head and holding it protectively against him.

She begun to struggle and groan underneath him, but Roy’s grip never faltered.

“I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he whispered in her ear that was very close to his face. “Riza, it’s okay.” Her body stilled for a moment. Roy could feel her hesitation in that pause.

The shaking subsided and Roy strained to hear anything. There was no cracking above them from the ceiling, but that was when he realised the screaming outside had stopped. All that remained was the orange glow from outside the door and the crackle of the fire as it ravaged the tables inside the inn.

“Roy?” Riza asked groggily. She’d placed a hand on the floor by his hip and held onto his bicep with the other as she pushed herself up. They were face to face, with one of Roy’s hands still on her back, the other on her shoulder, supporting most of her weight. Her head was dipped, eyes blinking slowly as she tried to clear her vision. A grimace appeared, no doubt from the head wound. The hand left his bicep and she pressed her fingers against it gently, wincing in pain.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper as relief flooded his entire being. He was honestly so happy to see her up and moving, reacting to his voice and his questions. She was probably concussed and that wound looked nasty, but she was alive, and she was talking, and in this hellhole, Roy would take that right now.

She flinched when he pressed his palm to her cheek, guiding her head upwards so he could see into her eyes. One pupil was bigger than the other. Roy had seen many injuries in his days working for his mother so knew that this spelled bad news. If they didn’t move fast, they’d be trapped in the room either under rubble or by the fire raging outside in the hallway.

“Riza?” he tried again, trying to coax a response from her. She blinked again, brow furrowing either in confusion or concentration – Roy wasn’t sure. “Can you say something? Anything?” He continued to question her as his hands gently moved along her hairline and over her skull, looking for any further injuries. He glided his hand over her neck, checking to see if the muscles were tense.

“Where… Where are we?” she mumbled, eyes closing, but both lids opening at different times. Definitely a concussion. Roy needed to get them out of here and fast. She was confused, disorientated, and there was a fire outside the door fighting to spread. He needed to move.

“We’re in The Vaults,” he explained. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“My head.”

“Okay. Anywhere else?” Riza shook her head but then winced, quickly stilling her movements. “All right. Try and keep your neck still. Is it sore?”

“It…”

“Riza?” he questioned, gently tilting her head up with a finger on her chin so he could meet her eyes.

“What?” Damn. Foregoing further questioning, Roy opted to get them moving. Time was running out and they didn’t have long left.

“Okay, we need to get moving. Can you get yourself up?”

Her balance was off, but he managed to jump to his feet and assist Riza to stand. Her steps were shaky as they moved. It didn’t help Roy kept them hunched over to avoid the black smoke.

“We’re going to be okay,” he kept reassuring her as they entered the main room of the inn. The fire had spread. Not far, but enough to cause concern. Her replies were mumbled as she asked where they were and what was happening. This was a far cry from the Riza he was used to seeing and he was worried for her. She was obviously seriously injured and needed help, and that thought spurred him on to move faster –

Another shock ripped through the room and Roy lost his balance. He’d wrapped his arm around Riza’s back keeping a tight hold on her waist and had thrown one of her arms over his shoulders while he gripped her wrist securely, but he felt it slip out of his grasp with the turbulent movement of the ground. He managed to stop her from landing face first on the floor. He didn’t need to be the cause of her head injury worsening. Before he could shift them to steadily stand on their feet, there was a blur from the ladder to their escape route. Roy was knocked on his back painfully. Disorientated, he looked up and rolled away to the right as a knife sliced towards his head. Instinctively he raised his knees and lifted the attacker off him and kicked, sending them flying backwards.

Frantically he looked up as he got into a low crouch, eyes searching the room for Riza, but froze when he saw her being pulled into the grasp of a man. He pressed a knife to her throat. Hard. Roy felt rage build in him when he saw the blood trickle down her neck.

“Let her go!” he began to shout but was cut off as he was pressed painfully onto his stomach. He was flattened to the floor by his previous attacker who was now kneeling on his back.

“Let’s go,” the man restraining Riza barked. Roy’s arms were wrenched behind his back painfully. Her struggled against it but was forced into submission as the man pressed all his weight on Roy’s back. He gasped, gritting his teeth as a knee was pressed into his spine painfully.

“Roy?” he heard Riza call, voice desperate. Craning his neck and fighting to look up, his eyes met Riza’s panicked ones. Her expression was begging him to resolve this and by God did he try. He tried to struggle again, but he was pinned. He cried out upon feeling a sudden, even greater pressure on his spine.

“Stay still,” the man above him hissed.

“Get on with it!” his friend hissed.

“I’m trying but he won’t stop wriggling!”

“Hey!” Riza’s captor shouted suddenly. “You keep struggling and I’ll slit her throat right here.” Riza’s eyes widened fearfully. It broke Roy’s heart to see that emotion in her eyes. She was so confident in her abilities and in herself. Roy had often wondered if she feared anything. She was so good at what she did, it was an emotion he would never associate with her. It was something he never wanted to. Roy stilled instantly, never breaking eye contact with Riza.

In a moment like this with them both being restrained, and the wrong move or word could mean death, Roy found he didn’t want to look away from her.

“Let’s move.”

He was jerked roughly to his feet by his arms, his shoulders straining as they were pulled backwards, hands bound behind his back. The man holding Riza pushed her sideways and she stumbled, still feeling the effects of her concussion.

“Careful!”

“Shut up,” the man growled in Roy’s ear. “Get up the ladder.”

“And how can I do that with my hands like this?” he bit back harshly. He received a punch in the stomach for his troubles.

“Don’t –” Riza began to protest.

“You, get up there.” Riza was pushed forwards. Her hands were free, but she was in no condition to fight anyone. She was unsteady on her feet, swaying in place and losing her balance. Any attempt at fighting would get them both killed. Her hands fumbled on the ladder, but she managed to get up. The man quickly ascended while she was still righting herself. He grabbed her arms and shoved her through the grate, disappearing and leaving Roy and his captor behind.

“Try anything and she dies,” he growled in Roy’s ear. A knife cut at the restraints on his wrists roughly, cutting into the skin. Roy gasped in surprise at the sudden pain. He glared at the man but complied and begun to climb. For Riza’s sake. The fire raging behind them left him no choice. Roy could push him back into the flames that were creeping further forward, but his friend would know, and the main goal was to keep the danger away from Riza. She needed serious medical help and that wouldn’t come if he acted up.

Once outside he barely got a chance to find her again before a bag was shoved over his head, blocking out all light. It was night anyway, but nothing penetrated the black cloth. His hands were tied once more, roughly, but this time in front of him.

“Where is she?” Roy asked, feeling anger burn in his chest.

“None of your –”

“She’s injured,” he growled.

“So what?”

“So, let me help her.”

“Why? So both of you can escape?”

“No –”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Something bumped into him. Roy began to panic, but hands clung to his forearm and bicep. They clutched at him, securing themselves against him.

“Riza?” he asked, frustration blending in with his desperation.

“I’m here,” she whispered. He relaxed underneath her hands. It was her holding onto him.

“Are you okay?” he murmured quietly.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Follow us. You – guide him. Try to get away, I’ll kill him and make you watch,” one of their captors warned. Hands tightened on his arm.

“Are you hurt?” he asked under his breath. He had no idea how close the other two were, but he hoped only she could hear him.

“Just my head.”

Roy nodded even though she wouldn’t be able to see it. A hand slid down his arm and ended up gripping his hand tightly. Riza gave him a quick squeeze, which he returned. He was grateful for the comfort.

This was not how he envisioned his night going but now it was here, he would just have to take it one step at a time. He would play it smart and keep his mouth shut. Roy had found it difficult especially when her life was at risk, but he would do it.

They just had to be smart.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #emma writes #hit and run

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lilacmoon83 · 6 years

Text

Dreaming Out Loud

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 59: Bad Blood

Persephone smiled, as she checked on her sleeping grandson and then went back downstairs. She kept checking her phone, waiting for an update of what was going on and was thankful when it rang. The caller ID showed that it was David and she answered.

"David…" she answered.

"Snow's missing…" were the first words out of his mouth and she frowned.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"We were handling this situation and Snow went down to the cafeteria to get us coffee. And then I got this terrible feeling...I can't find her anywhere," he replied frantically. Panic crept up inside her as well.

"All right, as soon as I get someone to come watch Henry, I'll be right there," Persephone said, as she hung up the phone. She didn't have Neal's number and decided Henry would be fine for just a few minutes, so she poofed herself to the Inn and knocked on his door frantically. She heard stumbling around, as he answered it.

"What the hell…" he growled and then he saw it was her. His eyes widened and the rest of his cursing died on his lips.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but Snow is missing. I need you to come back to the loft with me to watch Henry," she stated. He nodded and quickly put his clothes on.

"What do you mean missing?" Neal asked tiredly, as they appeared in Snow's loft.

"David and Emma were dealing with the situation at the hospital. Snow went to get them coffee and now she's missing," Persephone responded, as she grabbed one of Snow's scarves and then poofed a large case onto the table.

"What is that?" Neal asked curiously.

"My store of potions and concoctions," she replied.

"I should have known…" Neal said.

"I know you're not a fan of magic and that's understandable. But a locator potion may be the only way to find my daughter quickly," she replied.

"You do know it's probably why Snow went missing too, right?" he questioned. She stopped for a moment and then looked at him.

"Sorry...that was out of line," he apologized.

"No...you're right. In many ways, my presence in Snow's life might only increase the danger to her. But I assure you that without me, she would also be in danger as well," Persephone said, as she got the potion.

"Thank you for watching Henry," she said. He nodded.

"Of course...I just hope you find her. Emma and David are probably going crazy," he mentioned. She nodded and disappeared in a puff of lavender smoke. They weren't the only ones.

~*~

Snow screamed, as they appeared in a dark cavern and she instantly recognized her surroundings. They were beneath the library. Regina used a fireball to give them light, as Snow kneed Hermes between his legs. Even a God was not impervious to this attack and she tore away from him, as she began to run through the cavern. But she suddenly felt her ankles become tied together, thanks to magic and tripped, falling to the ground.

"Regina please...you don't want to do this," Snow cried, as her wrists were then magically bound too. Snow looked at them fearfully, as Hermes dragged her back to the mouth of the cavern.

"Get it over with already," Regina said. Snow's breathing came in ragged gasps and she cried out, as he brandished a knife. He smirked.

"You really think I'm going to kill you, don't you Princess?" he hissed, as he let the cold blade touch the sensitive skin on her neck. She swallowed thickly.

"You aren't?" she squeaked, as she looked to Regina.

"No...there's someone else that wants that honor, as much as both of us would like to," Hermes responded.

"And if I did kill you...I wouldn't be choosing a knife to do it," Regina added, as a fireball appeared in her palm.

"Then what do you want with me?" she questioned, but then she cried out, as he used the blade to slice her palm. She whimpered and struggled, as he let her blood drip into a small vial.

"What are you doing?" Snow questioned.

"Your blood...it will allow Hades passage into this realm," Hermes revealed. Her eyes widened.

"Hades…" she uttered and then looked at her step-mother.

"Why would you help bring Hades here? How could you? Think of Henry," Snow admonished.

"I am thinking of my son, unlike you," Regina hissed.

"Because of your mother, one way or another, Hades is going to find a way here. Her presence here in this town will doom everyone, so I'm doing what I have to in order to protect Henry," she reasoned.

"You really think Hades will see you as some kind of ally if you help him?" Snow questioned. She smirked.

"Oh, I'm under no delusions about how dangerous your step-father is," she mentioned, enjoying twisting that particular knife.

"But yes...in desperate times like these, alliances must be made and let's keep in mind again that none of this would be necessary without your mother's presence here," Regina reminded.

"Fine...you have my blood. Now let me go," Snow demanded. Regina smirked and gently caressed her cheek.

"Oh no...no you don't get off that easily, dear. My mother is dead, because of you," Regina reminded.

"Your mother was evil…" Snow spat and then choked, as Regina wrapped a hand around her neck.

"No...you're the evil one. You told her about Daniel...you're the reason he's dead. You're the reason Persephone killed my mother!" Regina shouted, as tears gathered in her eyes.

"I never meant to hurt you...she preyed on me. I was just a little girl...I'm sorry," Snow pleaded.

"I don't care...you need to pay and now you will with what's coming," Regina said.

"And once Hades has swept away all my enemies for me...then Henry will be mine again. And he'll love me again, because I'll be all he has," Regina said tearfully. Snow shook her head.

"It doesn't have to be this way. If you do the right thing, it will show Henry that you really are trying to change. I know the woman you used to be...the one that saved my life. I know she's still in there. We can be a family again," Snow pleaded.

"Oh, your naivete isn't at all endearing anymore, dear. In fact, it's pathetic. We've had this conversation before and nothing has changed. My biggest regret is still that I wasn't able to kill you. But soon that will be rectified. Perhaps not by my hand...but justice will be done," Regina said, as she waved her hand and the dusty lid of her casket was lifted. Snow's eyes widened, as Hermes grabbed her arm and started to force her into the casket.

"No...please don't do this," Snow begged, as he made her lay down in it and she screamed, as he sealed the dusty coffin lid. Snow sobbed almost uncontrollably and pounded on the coffin lid. It was like being buried alive and like something out of a nightmare.

"There...back where she belongs. In her glass coffin, only she's awake this time to experience the horror," Hermes said deviously.

"Unfortunately, it probably won't take her Prince long to find her. It never does," Regina replied bitterly.

"Well...then let's make him work for it a bit," Hermes suggested, as his staff, the Caduceus, appeared in his hand. He jammed the staff into the ground before the coffin and it glowed, as it sent his summons to the intended creatures. Regina jumped, as she heard a screeching sound.

"What was that?" she questioned.

"I have summoned the Furies to help guard her. He'll find her, but he'll have to go through them first," Hermes said, as three frightening creatures emerged seemingly from beneath the ground and Regina took a step back. The dark, wraith-like billowy figures had snakes for hair and blood dripped from their eyes. In addition, they had bat like wings and their screeches were bone-chilling.

"She is my prisoner...guard her well," Hermes ordered, as he gestured to Snow in the coffin.

"Let's go...My Lord has been waiting long enough to enact his vengeance," Hermes said and as they disappeared, Regina heard Snow's scream and tried to ignore the spark of regret inside her blackened heart.

~*~

Jefferson convened back in the lobby with the others and he instantly felt badly for his friends, for David and Emma both looked panicked.

"Any luck?" Emma asked. He shook his head.

"I don't think she's here," he mentioned regrettably, as Persephone appeared.

"Neal is watching Henry and I have one of Snow's scarves," Persephone said, as Gold offered a locator potion. She took it from him.

"I brought one too, but thank you," she said, accepting his gift and poured it over the scarf. It floated before them, just as Whale came into the lobby.

"He made it," Whale announced, as they all acted like they didn't hear him.

"Hello...the stranger is alive, thanks to my gifted hands. Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked irritably.

"Uh yeah...there's just more going on now. Thanks," Emma offered.

"Is he awake?" she asked.

"Yes...you can talk to him if you need to," Whale replied, as he left.

"Emma…" David started to say.

"Dad...you can't be seriously asking me to stay behind on this one," she said.

"I don't want to, but we also need to make sure our guest knows that he should be on his way so to speak as soon as possible. And it only makes sense for the Sheriff or Deputy to talk to him. I can text you our location when you're done," he said. She nodded, knowing he was right, and she hugged him tightly.

"I'll find her...I promise," he said. She nodded and walked back toward the patient's recovery room.

"Rumple and I will go to the loft and make sure everything is okay with Henry. He'll be upset when Neal tells him, I'm sure," Belle offered. David nodded gratefully.

"Especially if Regina is behind this," Gold added bitterly.

"Let's keep that little detail under wraps until we know for sure," David requested and Gold agreed with a curt nod. With that, David and Persephone exited the hospital, as they followed the scarf.

"You up for one more?" Jefferson asked, as he tagged along.

"We are if you are," David answered, as the Hatter joined them.

~*~

Tamara packed her things and spared a glance at her prisoner, who she had handcuffed to the bed in the room.

"You know, I've been tied to a few beds before, but this is definitely not in a good way," Hook commented.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but we'll be moving along now. It's time to go to Storybrooke," she replied.

"Yes...and what are your plans when you get there? You must realize that there is magic there. Your pistol may not get you as far there as it does out in this world," he warned. She smirked.

"Oh, but I'm Neal's fiance. They'll have no reason to suspect me of any malfeasance...until it's much too late," Tamara replied.

"And what do you plan to do with me, lass? I have no stakes in your plot, whatever that may be," Hook reminded. She smirked.

"Are you sure?" she questioned, as she put her bag by the door.

"You see...my goal and the goal of my associate is to destroy magic," she stated. He looked bewildered by that.

"Destroy magic?" he questioned. She nodded.

"And how pray tell do you plan to do that? I've been around magic in my considerably long life and I've never encountered such a way to do so. That is why I wanted to come to this land, for the absence of magic is the only way to skin my crocodile," he responded.

"I may not know exactly how to destroy magic completely yet, but my superiors do. I also have ways of nullifying magical attacks. They don't seem to hold up well to my world's technology," she mentioned, as she held a black device in her hand and pressed the trigger, showing him the electric charge in her high powered taser.

"And what will your fiance think when he finds out the real reason you're coming to town?" Hook questioned.

"Neal is a good man...but will be unfortunately collateral damage," Tamara replied. He frowned and she laughed.

"You don't think I actually love him, do you?" she questioned.

"You're engaged...I assumed. Silly me, I suppose," he replied bitterly.

"Don't worry...I'm not going to kill him, as long as he doesn't get in my way. You should be happy though. An alliance with me can get you exactly what you want," she said, as she looked at him.

"Your Crocodile," she tempted.

"I've hunted this beast for longer than you've been alive...longer than your great grandparents were alive. The Dark One can only be killed in a place with magic with one object," Hook warned.

"Yes...the dagger," she replied. He looked surprised that she knew that.

"I told you that my superiors know everything about that little town and its inhabitants," she reminded.

"Yes...you keep mentioning your superiors, but you offer no names," he leered.

"We just call them the Home Office and their goal is the same of ours. That is to remove magic from this world. It's unnatural...it's a disease," she spat.

"Dark magic is...I agree. But there is light magic. I have seen light magic do good in my time as well, albeit much less often," he challenged. She smirked.

"All magic is evil...even the supposed true love kind. There is always a price, even for true love, and it is always paid in blood," she said. He smirked.

"I sense there is a story behind that," he mentioned.

"No story...I just hate magic," she countered. He smirked.

"Right…" he snorted derisively.

"Cheer up Captain...stick with me and I can guarantee that you can skin that Croc," she tempted.

"You propose an interesting proposition, lass. But I've been around long enough to know that you'll want something from me if you manage the task of incapacitating the Dark One. Captain Hook is no fool," he hissed. She smirked.

"You're right...how are you at creating distractions and being a general nuisance?" she asked. He smirked.

"Oh...I would say I excel quite nicely at it. Who do you want distracted?" he questioned.

"Emma Swan and her family, of course. Distractions will be needed if we're going to be able to do what we want," she responded. He smirked.

"Aye...I can provide some distractions, indeed. But I warn you, love...I am not a person you want to double cross," he warned.

"Neither am I, Captain...but I assure you that an alliance between us will give us both what we want," she assured.

"Then I believe we have an accord," Hook agreed.

~*~

Emma took a deep breath and entered with Greg Mendell's personal effects.

"The nurse was just in here," he commented.

"Not nurse...Sheriff Swan," she said with a slight edge in her voice.

"Oh…" he uttered.

"Here's your personal effects back. How are you feeling, Mr. Mendell?" she asked.

"Pretty good, considering. They told me it was touch and go there for a while," he replied. She nodded.

"Uh...did I hit someone in the accident? Is that why you're here?" he asked nervously.

"No...you were the only injured party," she replied and he sighed in relief.

"However...your tox screen came back and you had alcohol in your system. Not enough to be legally drunk, but you were definitely driving under the influence. Want to tell me about that?" she asked. He looked down shamefully.

"Yeah...so I'm kind of on a trip. My girlfriend and I are taking a break. We had another fight on the phone and I had a drink or two with dinner. I knew it was a mistake, but I figured I'd be okay driving up to Portland. I was wrong," he replied. Emma gazed at him with scrutiny. She wanted to believe him...she really wanted to believe him. But he was not passing her inner lie detector. Part of her was so distracted with everything else going on that she might have missed it, but her desire to protect her son and her parents overruled her worry about everything else. This guy was definitely not being completely truthful. The problem was that she didn't know exactly what he was lying about.

"Am I under arrest?" he asked bluntly. She gave him a steely stare.

"I'd be well within my right to charge you with a DUI..but I'm going to let you off with a warning," she replied. He sighed in relief.

"Thank you," he said gratefully.

"Drinking and driving isn't a good idea, but this is your lucky day. Rest up, Mr. Mendell and you can be on your way to Portland," she replied sternly, as she turned and left the room. Once she was gone, Greg smirked deviously.

"Yeah...you're not getting rid of me that easily. Not until this town is burning…" he hissed beneath his breath.

~*~

The scarf floated just before the doors to the library and it should have come as no surprise to them. As they went inside, the scarf slowly floated toward the elevator and then hovered there.

"That's a bit predictable, isn't it?" Jefferson questioned.

"Unless there's a fight waiting for us down there," David replied. Persephone nodded.

"We need someone to operate the elevator," she said to the Hatter. Jefferson nodded. Clearly, if there was a fight down there, he would only be in the way. But he could do this and it would help.

"Whatever you need," he agreed, as they boarded the elevator. Jefferson operated the hand crank and slowly lowered them into the cavern. Persephone watched him clench his fist and put her hand on his arm.

"She's down here and we'll save her," she assured her.

"I know...but whoever took her had her for a while," he said, as he clenched his teeth.

"If they've hurt her…" he growled.

"Then they will pay, but Snow will be okay, we will see to that," Persephone responded, as the elevator docked at the bottom and they opened the door.

As they entered the dark cavern, they heard a scream and David took off in a sprint.

"Snow!" he called frantically, as he rushed headlong into the blackness.

"David wait!" Persephone cried, as she heard an inhuman screeching echo through the cavern. She ran to catch up with him and raised her hands, creating a couple of standing torches, filling the cavern with some light. She saw her son-in-law swipe his sword at the three creatures that circled about menacingly.

"Furies…" she uttered.

"What?" he questioned.

"Furies...minions of my husband's from the Underworld," Persephone clarified, as it was then that she saw the large Caduceus staff planted in the ground and her blood ran cold.

"That staff...I know who did this…" she uttered, as magic erupted from her fingertips and she battled the furies with him. He glanced at her, as he swiped at the creature.

"Who?" he asked.

"That staff belongs to none other than Hermes...he's behind this," she replied, as they battled the furies.

"Why would Hermes want to hurt Snow?" he asked, as he ducked to evade the sharp claws of the fury.

"To hurt me...but it's much worse than that, I fear," she lamented.

"We'll deal with it, whatever it is. First, we have to kill these things and since I'm guessing they're not actually alive, my sword is probably not going to cut it," he said.

"No...only fire can kill them," she said. With that, Charming grabbed one of the torches she had created and began to duel with the angry one that seemed intent on trying to sink its fangs into him. It screeched angrily at him and swiped it's claws, catching his shirt and tearing it open. He hissed, as he noticed the lacerations on his skin and the blood drawn. He growled and thrust the flame part of the torch into the creature's eyes. It screamed and the echo shuddered through the entire cave. He kept pressing it into the creature, until the fire began to eat away at the essence of the fury, until it burned up completely.

Persephone dodged the angry clawing and her magic morphed from lavender energy into fire. It wasn't often that she strayed from her organic type magic to elemental power, but she would do anything for her little Snow without hesitation. She engulfed the second fury with twin fireballs and it wailed in agony as it was destroyed. David batted the last one away from the coffin where his terrified wife was trapped. Persephone hit it with a fireball to draw it away, as David used his sword to pry the sealed glass lid off.

"Charming…" Snow sobbed, as he cut her bonds and then lifted her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, as he kissed her hair and rubbed a soothing hand on her back. She looked up just in time to see Hermes' staff glow behind them and she cried out, as the snakes on it came alive. They grew gigantic and towered above them. David put her on her feet, but continued to hold her close, as they stared up at the new problem before them. Persephone destroyed the last fury and fired a magical attack at one of the snakes. It hissed angrily and turned its head to her, before snapping its powerful jaws at her. She dodged and saw that her attack had no effect.

"It's impervious to magic...damn Hermes," she cursed, as she willed a sword into her hand and a bow and quiver appeared for Snow.

"Guess we'll have to do this the old fashioned way," David said, as he poised his sword and charged at one of the snakes, while Snow fired an arrow at the other. It screeched angrily at her, as the arrow struck it in the neck. Persephone grabbed her arm and they dodged the snake's snapping jaws. Meanwhile, David had climbed up onto one of the rocky outcroppings and prepared to slay one of them. But he knew it had to be just right.

"Distract it!" he called. Persephone created a fireball and it hissed angrily, as it focused on her, while David jumped and landed on the snake's giant head. He roared and snapped its jaws, but had no time to do anything, as David drove his sword into its brain, dropping it dead to the ground instantly. It was a bloody mess that made all their stomachs churn in disgust. The other one hissed angrily and slithered toward David, but Snow was not having it.

"Get away from my husband!" she called, as she fired an arrow into its neck. It turned its attention to her again, which was exactly what she wanted and she fired an arrow directly into its eye. It made a terrible shrieking noise, which died promptly, as Persephone swiped her sword through its neck, decapitating it in another sickening mess. They all breathed in relief and he rushed to Snow, scooping her into his arms.

"Charming…" she cried, as their lips met in a series of continual, passionate kisses.

"Oh Snow…" he breathed, as he held her close and continued kissing her for a few moments. Persephone smiled gently at them, as she stood quietly by.

"Did he hurt you?" David asked, as he cupped her face in his hands. She shook her head.

"No...but they took blood," Snow said, as she looked at her mother and showed them her hand.

"They? Then Regina is involved in this?" he growled. Snow nodded sadly.

"She's just angry…" Snow said, as she noticed her mother looked very pale.

"Why would he take Snow's blood?" David asked, as he looked to her. Snow looked at her tearfully.

"He's using my blood to bring Hades here," she told him. His brow furrowed.

"I don't understand...how would your blood bring Hades here?" David asked.

"Because the only way for Hades to come to this realm is if you summon Charon to bring him. And the only way to do that is with the blood of someone who has both been to the land of the living and the world of the dead," Persephone replied.

"But that would be your blood…" he said, as he trailed off and thought about it for a moment.

"And Snow's because she was born there," he finished with a sigh. Snow looked at them tearfully.

"Hades is coming…" she said fearfully. Persephone closed the distance between them and took their hands.

"He may be, but I will never let him hurt this family," she insisted, trying to push down her panic.

"I need to get to the lake," she said, as she started toward the elevator.

"We're coming with you," Snow said, as they followed.

"Absolutely not…" Persephone protested.

"That was a statement, not a request. I'm not letting you face him alone," Snow said. Persephone squeezed her hands and knew there was no use in arguing. Sooner or later, they would come face to face with Hades, no matter what she did. It was better if she was there with them when they did.

"Jefferson…bring us up!" David called, as they boarded the elevator and slowly ascended to the surface. As they arrived on the main level, Emma came bursting into the library and took a relieved breath, as she saw that her mother was okay.

"Mom…" she called, as she hurried over and David prodded his wife into their daughter's arms.

"I'm fine sweetie," Snow promised.

"Who the hell put you down there?" Emma asked.

"It was Hermes...and Regina," Snow replied.

"So Regina did do this," Emma growled.

"She's angry and she's grieving. Cora's death just made her want revenge. I don't think she's thinking straight," Snow reasoned.

"Snow...I love you, but Regina helped abduct you and then let Hermes release hell furies to guard you. Not to mention the giant snakes," David admonished and Snow looked sad and shuddered, remembering how frightened she had been.

"He has a point. I know you still care about her, but she doesn't deserve it," Jefferson reminded.

"I know…" she said.

"That seems like a pretty elaborate way to kill someone. Why the theatrics?" Emma asked.

"Because Hermes' goal was to get a sample of Snow's blood. Hades is coming," Persephone stated gravely.

"Do you know where?" Emma asked.

"He will come aboard Charon's boat. The lake if I had to guess," Persephone replied.

"Then I guess we're going to the lake," Emma said, as the five of them hurried out.

~*~

"Dad?" Henry said sleepily that morning, as he came down the stairs.

"Hey buddy," he called.

"What are you doing here so early?" Henry asked curiously.

"Your grandmother had a bit of an emergency and asked me to come over to stay with you," Neal replied.

"What kind of an emergency?" Neal asked, as there was a knock at the loft door. Neal opened it and let his father and Belle in.

"Hey...any news?" he asked. Belle nodded.

"David just texted me. They found her...but there is bigger problems," Belle responded, as she looked at Rumple.

"Papa?" he asked.

"It's Hades...he's coming here," Rumple answered.

"Hades...the Hades? Like Persephone's husband that she escaped?" he asked. Rumple nodded.

"Yes...Snow White's kidnapping was solely for the purpose of obtaining her blood. Hermes has betrayed Zeus and sided with the God of the Underworld," Rumple stated.

"I don't understand...how does Snow's blood bring Hades here?" Neal asked.

"The blood of one that has both been to the land of the living and the world of the dead can allow Hades passage to this realm. Only Snow and Persephone fit that description. I need to join the others at the lake," Rumple replied. Neal nodded and grabbed his coat.

"Can you stay with him? I need to go too," he replied.

"Bae…" Rumple started to protest.

"I can stay," she agreed.

"Let's go," Neal said, not allowing Rumple to argue with him and the Dark One acquiesced. With a final glance at Belle, he followed his son down the stairs.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #Swanfire #Rumbelle #Persephone #greek mythology meets farytales #Hades #Greg and Tamara #Captain Hook #romance #adventure #Regina Mills #Hermes

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certifiedskywalker · 7 years

Text

Beauty and The Beast - Sandor Clegane

A broken man comes to the inn you work at, a split leg and tarnished spirit. Maybe you can heal him, both body and mind; and show him just how a speck of beauty can turn a beast into a good hearted man.

Warnings : ROUGH Langauge, BRIEF unwanted touching, slow burn romance thingy. Words : 5826 (longest writing I’ve ever done, but it’s good!)

Life in The Vale was calm and pleasant, for the most part. While you called home a few miles away from the Bloody Gate, you still felt the mountains around the small inn you lived in could protect you from any harm. You had never known anything else; the stone cliffs and high peaks were a part of you as you were of them.

The innkeeper even knew better than to disturb you as you sat above the small tavern. Your ritual of sitting on the crag above was known by the frequent visitors of the inn. If they saw you up there, enjoying the sunset, they’d wave. Men would often whistle, trying to get your attention. You were known through this part of the Vale as the most beautiful. You simply ignored their calls and fixed your eyes on the sky.

Most of the time, they were far too small for you to even notice. Your eyes would be glued to the warm blush colors of the evening sky, not on the ants down below. You’d only clamber down from your high spot when the first sliver of the moon shone on the horizon. Then, and only then, would you return to the small keep.

Except one day, a man caught your eyes. It was the fact he was being carried by four other men that seized your attention. The men rushed their wounded cargo inside the inn, yelling for help and water. Nerves prickled down your spine, just enough to get you on your feet. Darrick wouldn’t take too nicely to their demands of aid; even if they were justified. So, you made your way down the rocks, running into the tavern to stop your employer from making a scene. As it turned out, you were a bit late.

“Who’s this? Why’d ya bring ‘em here?” Darrick had his hands on his hips, his round, grubby face scowling at the men that barged in. One of them looked to be a knight, with shining armor and a sword sheathed in fine leather.

“We found him, he was bleeding badly. He still is,” the knight said. Darrick’s expression only grew more sour and you prepared to step in. “He’s The Hound, the guard dog that fled the Blackwater. The Lannisters would pay to see him returned.”

“Joffrey Baratheon is dead,” Darrick shouted, silencing the floor of the inn. “Cersei Lannister will not want the crowd protector of her dead child unless his head is on a spike.” You stiffened at the thought of the Lannisters killing this man, even if he was The Hound. No one deserved their cruelty. They went as far to kill Robb Stark at a wedding; a wedding!

“We should patch him up,” you said, causing Darrick to look past the knights that brought the man inside. Darrick raised his eyebrows, glancing at you and then The Hound. “We can,” you looked over at the killer being hoisted up, “hold him for ransom. If that doesn’t pan out we can find some other use for him.” Darrick let out a gruff laugh, his fat folds trembling as he did.

“Oh Y/N, you’re lucky that you’re pretty,” Darrick turned away, “your so naive.” You felt your hands curl into fists at his words; you couldn’t let the Lannister kill someone else. Looking down at The Hound, you could see just how dreadful his situation was. He was far from conscious and if he did open his eyes, his dirty hair would hinder his sight. The leg of his trousers was soak in crimson blood and his leg bone poked out of his flesh. Despite his apparent wounds, you could see the strength in him; but if you didn’t help him soon, he would die.You turned to the knight in the clean iron armor, who was looking at you with confusion.

“Well don’t just leave him there! Bring him to the extra room in the back.” The four men heaved The Hound up, following you as you led them past the wooden tables that littered the inn’s floor. The extra room, normally saved for high priced customers, was quite large. The cot in the corner was longer than the rest of the beds in the inn.

“Set him down there,” you said, pointing to the bed. The men set him down with a big groan from the cot. You walked out to the inn’s kitchen to find the store of the healing herbs, bandages, and milk of the poppy. You took everything you could carry, rushing back to the man bleeding out on Darrick’s finest sheets.

When you returned to the room, the knights had removed the man’s armor and left him only in his cloth clothing. The Hound was also trying to haul himself up but the one knight that remained kept him down; or tried to.

“You have to stay down, you’re going to make it worse.” The knight was far from threatening or forceful, so The Hound pushed him away with ease.

“Fuck off, boy,” he spat as tried to push himself up once more. Before he could, you walked in, bringing his attention to you. You could see his brown eyes through his long hair, peering up at you with an unreadable expression.

“You are going to make things worse if you try to walk,” you said walking over to the desk. You set down your medical materials and turned back to him. “Lay back down, Ser... “ you trailed off, not knowing The Hound’s true name. You had only heard the horror stories of his treachery and cage-less temper.

“Clegane, Sandor Clegane,” he hissed. His voice was gruff and it sent a chill down your spine. “I’m no Ser either,” he added, slowly leaning back against the bed. You walked over to the edge of the bed, feeling the eyes of the knight on you.

“Why do you stay?” you asked, meeting the knight’s blue eyes. They reminded you of the sky before sunset, crisp and bright; but something lingered behind his eyes. The look you saw in the eyes of lustful men was mirrored in his expression.

“To aid you, my lady. I’ve heard about the beautiful Y/N L/N across the Eyrie and would enjoy helping you.” You smiled sweetly at this, but he knew it was fake. You didn’t enjoy his attempt at flattery. Moving your attention back to The Hound, the knight shifted angrily on his feet. His attempts to help only gave him grief and he sensed another let down.

“You can have Darrick organize a room for you if you’re so concerned for this man’s health. You are not needed as of now.” The skinny knight let out a huff and walked out of the room.

You leaned over The Hound, studying his split leg. Gently reaching a hand out, you moved some of the fabric away. Clegane let out a hiss as you pulled part of his pants out of his bloody flesh. Ignoring him, you pursed your lips as you thought of a way to mend it. Finally coming to a solution, you walked over to your healing supplies. You tied a smock around your body to keep any blood off your gown. You looked over and saw The Hound watching you.

“Do you want milk of the poppy?” You asked as you looked over ot the desk to grab the things you needed. You heard the man behind you let out scoff.

“No,” he said, a hint of agitation in his voice. At this, you turned and walked back over to him. You set the bandages and salves on the edge of the bed. You looked back at him, meeting his eyes. A section of his hair had fallen to the side, revealing the other half of his face. The mangled, burned skin frightened you at first, but you looked away before you were caught staring for too long.

“It’s going to hurt,” you said, busying yourself with unraveling the dressing for his leg. You glanced back up at him for a brief moment and found him looking at you with an incredulous expression.

“No shit, it’s gonna hurt,” you clenched your jaw at his words. Before you could snap back, Clegane let out a rough cough. A bit of blood came up as he hacked and you frowned.

“That’s no way to speak to the woman who’s going to save your life,” you said, trying to keep calm. You grabbed a cloth and wiped at his mouth, clearing away speck of blood.

“I’m already dead, lass,” he said softly, “there’s no point in trying.” He gently pushed your hand away from his face, causing you to frown.

“Well your groaning and coughing will keep paying customers awake during the night; so I have to do something.” You carefully leaned over him, looking at his leg to see how much of the supplies you should use. While you did that, Sandor was watching you.

Your had a stubbornness about you that reminded him of the Stark girls. Arya would always give him a hard time, while Sansa wouldn’t let it show how much Joffrey had hurt her. He furrowed his brows at the memory of the two girls, a part of him missing them. He felt his lips form half of a bitter smile and was glad when you didn’t see it.

“I’m going to have to set the bone, stitch it up, and then wrap it,” you said aloud. You looked over at The Hound, his eyes still fixed on you. “Are you certain you don’t want milk of the poppy?” The Hound nodded and you mentally readied yourself.

“I’ve been through worse,” Clegane said. You nodded and dipped your fingers in a cleaning salve, gently spreading it around his wound. Your ears picked up a hiss of pain, but you focused on your careful work. “There’s a spot on my neck that could use a bit of that stuff,” he gestured to his neck with a heavy hand and you glanced up at him. His dark eyes were trained on your face when you moved over to examine his neck.

Peeling away the blood soaked fabric of his shirt, you could see the wound clearly. You let out a sigh before getting more salve on your fingers. You lightly brushed your fingers against his bloodstained skin, letting the ointment soak into the bite. You did your best to ignore how close you two were, but you had to get your mind off of it.

“How did you come to get so battered?” The Hound let out a throaty, forced chuckle. You pulled away from his neck, glancing at his face. He wasn’t the cleanest man; dirt and blood covered his face and tangled in his beard. Only something big would’ve been able to inflict the damage you had seen. Perhaps a bear or Shadowcat.

“I was,” he paused and you turned your attention back to his leg. “I was trying to protect someone, tryin’ to keep ‘er safe.” As he talked, you grabbed the gauge for his leg in preparation.

“What attacked you?” you questioned, trying to keep him talking. Clegane only let out a scoff, rolling his eyes and shook his head.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he spat. You gazed up at him, holding his eyes as you did. The Hound shifted in his spot, his stone cold exterior melting under your glare.

“I would,” you said firmly, “knowing how your wounds were inflicted would aid me in treating them.” You started to unravel the binding, still looking into The Hound’s face. “Now,” you said, “tell me.” His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t place before he spoke.

“A huge beast of a wom-” before he could finish, you reached over and snapped his broken bone back into place. The bone was slick with blood, but you managed to align it. The Hound let out a loud howl of pain, however it was brief.

“You’re a tricky lady,” he grunted out. An amused smile formed on your lips as the brutish man before you winced and grimaced in pain.

“It had to be done,” you said, wiping your hands on the dirty apron you wore. With now clean hands, you grabbed the needle a thread. As quickly, and as carefully as you could, you stitched up his flesh. The Hound tried his best to stay still, but the jabs of the needle stung after a while. When it was done, you sat back to admire you work. Then you reached for the binding.

“I’m going to have to wrap this around your leg to keep the bone set, so stay still.” He let out a huff, looking at the blood around his leg.

You studied the man, wondering what he was like before his leg split. How many people had he killed in the name of the Lannisters, or just because he wanted to? He wouldn’t be killing anyone for a while after you were done with him. He’d walk with a limp now, be a tad slower too.

Carefully lifting his leg, you wrapped the bandage around the wound. The Hound’s face would twitch and flinch in pain, trying his best not to show how much the injury pained him. You were about halfway through the binding when he started to complain.

“Ya, done yet?” You kept your eyes glued on your work, ignoring him. “It stings a bit, ya know,” he said dryly. Your eyes snapped up to met his, smiling sweetly.

“I thought you had been through worse?” you teased, squinting your eyes at him. The Hound scoffed and leaned back against the headboard of the bed.

“You gotta mouth on you. Only known one girl that ever talked back to me like that.” You shifted and went back to your work.

“What happened to her?” you asked, your voice betraying your thoughts. The deeds The Hound had done for Joffrey were well known. It wouldn’t surprise you if the young king had his dog kill a woman that refused him. Clegane shifted at your tone, sitting up a little from his spot.

“I didn’t hurt her,” he claimed, “I don’t hurt women.” You looked up at him, still waiting to hear what happened to the girl that talked back. He swallowed hard, “she was the person I was trying to protect. But she left me to die.”

“You must’ve deserved it then,” you said with no emotion. The Hound stiffened at your words but he felt you were right. Part of him still wanted to die, wanted to be done with all the petty Lords and stubborn Ladies; but life seemed to still have it’s hold on him. Or at least you were too hard headed to let him just die.

“Aye,” he said dejectedly, “I did.” You curled your lips together and looked up at his eyes. Dirt still covered his face, hiding the man you were trying to save.

“I’ll get a rag to wash you up.” You stood, walking over to the desk at the far side of the room. Sandor Clegane’s eyes followed you as you moved. You obviously didn’t enjoy him, so why were you helping him? His head was too cloudy with pain and exhaustion to think about it properly. So the tired man just watched as you dipped an old rag into water and made your way back to his bedside. You leaned down again, looming over him.

Your eyes scanned over his face, landing on the scarred skin there. The flesh looked to be mangled by flames, with spots of red interlaced with his skin tone. Carefully reaching out, fearful he’d push your hand away, you brushed the rag against his face. His brow furrowed when you cleaned the burned side, watching your expression change from soft to thoughtful. He could only assume that you were thinking about his ugliness, the disfigurement that made him look like the monster everyone in the Seven Kingdoms blabbed about.

“Don’t like whatcha see, lass?” He didn’t know why he even asked. Of course you didn’t like looking at him; no one did. Clegane waited for a snarky answer, but you simply moved the rag to the other side of his face without a word. Once his face was clean, you looked him in the eyes. Something had changed in your eyes, as you looked at the man before you.

“It’s just different,” you said finally. “You’re different, Sandor Clegane.” You dipped the rag in the water once more, handing it to him. “You can clean the rest of yourself,” you stood and looked down at him. “I’ll check in on you in the morning, you should still be alive.”

Sandor let out a husky laugh, “maybe. If I do live, you still gonna give to the Lannisters?” You met his eyes once more, a question on your lips.

“I thought you were passed out when I said that?” The Hound remained quiet, still waiting for your answer. “No, Clegane,” you said finally. “I had to give Darrick a reason to let me treat you. Holding you ransom seemed to win him over.”

“You’re a bright girl, Y/N” he said, with almost a hint of affection in his voice. Your name sounded foreign coming off his lips. He must’ve remembered it from the prissy knight tried to flirt with you. “You shouldn’t be workin’ in a tavern out in nowhere.” You smiled softly and shook your head.

“I’m right where I belong,” you turned back to the door, opening it. “I’ll see you in the morn, try to rest Clegane.” Without another word, you left the room. Sandor shifted against the bed, the wet rag still in his hand. He looked down at it; his thoughts drifting to one of the only people in the world that had showed him a lick of kindness.

You were leaning with your back resting against the wall. The air inside that room was musty with misuse, as the inn hadn’t had a highborn guest in years. That wasn’t the only thing that made it hard to clear your head. Who knew The Hound had fear and a heart. Defending and protecting a little girl seemed below what he was used to, yet it was what lead him to you in the first place. Maybe he wasn’t the beast everyone said he was.

A few days had past and Sandor Clegane was still alive. There were a few times over the last week where things were rocky and you had to stay at his bedside. One night, he had a fever and the shakes. You had to hold a rag to his face, trying your best to soothe him.

“It’s your body getting rid of any infection,” you had said calmly and dabbed the rag at his forehead. “You’ll live,” you had said, even when you had fear in your heart. You had brushed his hair from his damp skin and his eyes had moved to meet with yours. You had seen a flicker in his eyes when you had looked at him, but he tried his best to hide his emotion.

“Whatever you say, lass,” his voice had been rough with pain with he spoke. “No one will cry for me if I do die anyway.” Your brows had furrowed at his words, but bit your tongue. There was no comforting him with words, you had to the best with what you had.

So you kept holding the rag to his forehead, until his large hand wrapped around your wrist. You had met his eyes once more, but his face was as serious as stone. Your hand fell limp in his grip, your gaze had softened on his face.

“Why are you helping me?” His voice was so hoarse, it almost didn’t sound like his own. “You could be with your husband and your children, but instead you’re stuck with a sick, evil man.” You had frowned and shook your head.

“I don’t have a husband, or children. And I’m here because I want to be.” The Hound let go of your hand then, his jaw had been clenched as you spoke. “I want to help you because there are very few kind people left in the known-world.” You had placed the rag back against his head and he didn’t fight back. He let you help him, your every word playing through his mind.

Now, Clegane was healed. He stilled resided in the bed, until Darrick snapped at you for wanting payment; after all it was the best room he owned.

“He’s been in there for days,” he shouted, “we’re losin’ gold!” You nodded and the innkeeper smiled wickedly. He lunged towards you, as quick as he could on his stumpy legs. His sausage fingers grabbed a hold of your jaw, pulling your face close to his. “I’ll get what I want, what I deserve, one way or ‘nother. Even if it means selling your whore ass out to high payin’ patrons. You’re a known beauty afterall, wouldn’t mind a taste for meself.”

Darrick’s spit coated your face, making you cringe away from him. He let out a loud, boorish laugh. He let your face go, pushing you away from him. You rubbed your jaw, turning to walk out of the kitchen. Making you way to The Hound’s room, you wondered if he was ready to try walking yet. It’d be a step towards paying Darrick back.

You knock at the door and you hear Clegane’s voice sounding from behind the door. He told you to come in, so you pushed open the door. To your surprise, he sat on the edge of the bed. He looked up and met your eyes.

“Let me help,” you said, taking a step towards him. You held out your hand to him and he let out a raspy scoff.

“I don’t need your help,” he said and you raised your eyebrows. He set his hands on the edge of the bed and prepared himself to stand up. He would fall without support.

“Without my help, you would’ve died. Now,” you hold out your hand again. The Hound reluctantly took your hand. His long fingers wrapped around your hand, making it seem smaller than it actually was. You didn’t mind the roughness of his skin as he pushed up on his feet. He was a bit wobbly as he took a tentative step forward. He leaned on you for support, but you didn’t mind it. His leg seemed alright and he’d be able to walk without a cane.

You walk him towards the door, your other hand holding onto his forearm. He lands a step awkwardly on his foot, causing him to stumble. You caught him, your grip tightening on his hand and arm. Clegane mutters a curse under his breath and you feel the heat of his body against your own as he leaned on you.

“Easy now, Hound,” you said and he shifted his weight away from you. He straightened his posture and looked down at you. “You’re alright, one step at a time.”

“Sandor,” he said, looking into your eyes. He wore a strange expression on his face that you couldn’t place. “Call me Sandor. The Hound…” he paused, “was a name forced on me.”

“Alright, Sandor,” you said, testing his name on your lips. You carefully led him back to the bed, helping him sit back down. You let go of his arm, using your other hand to help him on the edge of the bed. Before you could speak, Sandor let go of your hand.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said quietly.

“Being polite now, are we?” you teased and Sandor looked up at you. The startings of a smile rested on his lips, but he didn’t seem to notice; you did.

“Be quiet, will ya?” he hissed, making you grin. “I haven’t said that to you since the first night,” he added. You nodded and smiled softly.

“It’s fine,” you said. “You’ll have to get on your feet soon, though,” you walked over to the desk and picked it up a bit.

“Why is that, little bird?” He asked and your cheeks flushed pink at the nickname. Him speaking to you so kindly had caught you off guard. He wasn’t like the men in the tavern that would rather see you bare than speak to you. Sandor spoke to you like you were the same as him.

“Darrick demands payment, and he will get it.” You turned back to face Sandor, who nodded. “I talked to him this morning.”

“You mean he yelled and you listened?” You swallowed hard at his words, grinding your teeth together. “I heard it through the door, nothing in detail.” You nodded with a frown and Sandor seemed to tense up. “I’ll pay my dues,” he said tiredly, “no need to stress.” You nodded at his words, a spark of curiosity igniting a flame.

“After you pay him back, where will you go?” Sandor stayed silent. He hadn’t thought about where he would go. His heart told him to stay here, never let someone like you get away from him; but when did The Hound ever listen to his heart?

“North maybe,” he lied. You nodded again, wondering what was waiting for him in the snow. Certainly not you. “Or South, it depends on the road.” You met his gaze again, his brown orbs staring back at you. A heavy silence fell over the two of you, waiting for the other to speak. You couldn’t bear it any longer, so you dared to voice your thoughts.

“Maybe you shouldn’t even go on the road.” Your suggestion caught his attention. Sandor straighten his back, looking at you with careful eyes; as if he were scared to look away from you. As if he did, you’d disappear all together.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice tinged with slight contentment. He didn’t venture to show anymore emotion, fearing that, if he did, you’d reject him. You smiled softly at him, hopeful for your future for the first time in years. You’d felt alone in the Vale, in the tavern, for a while. If Sandor stayed, maybe he could join you at your special cliff to watch the sunset.

“Yes, I fear Darrick might miss you too much,” you teased lightheartedly, and The Hound chuckled. A real show of joy, the first show since you had met him.

“Wouldn’t want to piss him off, now would I?” You curled your lips together at the notion. Your mind drifting back to Darrick’s threat, sent any spark of happiness into the chamber pot.

“No, you wouldn’t,” you said. Without another word, you left the room; thus leaving Sandor alone and slightly confused. What was the pretty girl from the tavern hiding?

“Who knew you’d be useful,” you teased, watching as Sandor chopped wood. The tall man stopped assaulting the tree before him, glaring at you. Although, there was a notion of amusement in his eyes you didn’t miss.

“Are you ever quiet?” He asked and you grinned. He rolled his eyes and continued to chop the tree in small pieces, still aware you were nearby. You watched at the muscles in his back flexed with each swing of the axe. His arms were equally as muscled and you couldn’t help but watch as he worked. Before you gawked any longer, you shook your head.

“Rarely,” you said, addressing his question. “How’s your leg? Your neck?” Sandor brought the axe down with one strong swing, splitting the tree in half. He slowly turned to look at you again, less annoyed this time but frowning nonetheless.

“Better,” he said, his voice tart with anger. Though, it was all an act and the two of you knew that; even if neither of you dared to admit it.

“Are you ever happy to see me?”

“Rarely,” he said, mimicking your answer. In truth, seeing you was what got him through the boring days. You reminded him that he was living for something; something he could not, and would not, share. He turned back to his work without another word.

Despite the strength in his every movement, it was hard to believe that, just a few days ago, Sandor was too weak to move. Now he was up and laboring to pay Darrick back.

“I’m going to make my last rounds in the tavern, so when you’re done here come get some ale.” Sandor glanced over his shoulder at you, a softness in his gaze.

“Will do, little bird,” he said and turned back to his work. “I’ll see ya in a bit.” You couldn’t help but smile at his words and you walked off back towards the inn.

Your good mood spread as you poured ale for pleased customers. The evening rush was in, and soon you’d be able to make your way to your spot on the stone peaks. Everything was going fine until Darrick stumbled out of his chambers. Your employer reeked of sour ale and wine, his face greasy with grimy sweat. Your body tensed as he lumbered over to you.

“Hello sweet beauty,” he drawled, the fumes of alcohol wafting to your face. “Your rounds are over yeah?” Darrick’s swinish hands grabbed your arm, his grip tightening on you. “Come to my bed and be a good little girl, will ya?” He pulled you to him, away from the patreon you were serving. His foul breath fanned across your face and made you cringe.

“You’re making a scene,” you hissed at the innkeeper, but he only chuckled.

“Oh, all the men in his room want’a fuck you,” he spat, “you ain’t kidding nobody.” You pulled away from him then, your body racing with anger. Darrick only lunged forward, grabbing you again. “Even that mutt of yours wants you in his bed. I’d kill ‘em to get first chance at you.” You struggled in his arms but he fondled your ass before you started yelling.

The tavern’s patrons, even the few that were there, just watched. Then you realized, Darrick was right; you were just a pretty face for travellers to ogle at. You felt tears burning in your eyes at the thought that no one cared about you. Darrick continued to touch you, even as you continued to struggle. You shouted and screamed but no one did a thing.

Just when you were about to give up, Sandor Clegane stormed in. His hand was still gripping the axe, his knuckles white due to the tightness. Your eyes locked with his and he marched towards you and Darrick. The innkeeper, upon seeing the mountain of a man stalking towards him, dropped you to the ground.

Without a word, but a few helpless cries from Darrick, Sandor grabbed the fat man by the neck. You watched in awe as Sandor backed him against the wall, holding him there by his neck. Sandor of seething and you could tell by the swift rise and fall of his shoulders, he wasn’t going to let Darrick get away with what he had done.

“If you ever,” Sandor hissed, “touch that pretty lady again, I’ll chop off your cock and feed it to the pigs outside.” Darrick, even in his drunken state, nodded quickly. With one motion, Sandor let the man fall to the ground and he turned to you. He extended a hand to you and you took it without hesitation. He lifted you off the ground and you instantly rested yourself against his tall frame. He let go of your hand, wrapping his arms around you.

“I’ve got ya, little bird,” he said gently, his voice soothing you. One hand moved, holding your upper arm tightly while the other rested against your back. He pulled you away from him, looking into your eyes with sincerity. “Go get yer things, we’re leaving.”

You nodded and went off to your cramped quarters to grab anything you might need. Some gowns, family heirlooms, and blankets for the coming winter. By the time you had everything, Sandor was standing in the doorway. You glanced up at him and his brow furrowed at the sight of you. Your eyes were red and tears covered your cheeks.

“You’re alright now,” he said, walking towards you. “I won’t let them hurt you,” his hands carefully wiped away your tears. Sandor was scared that the slightest touch may set you off, or hurt you. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he hurt you. His movements were shaky, since he wasn’t used to showing much affection. He couldn’t even remember the last time; maybe when he covered the Stark girl with his cloak after the little King prick had her beaten.

But you didn’t care if he fumbled when he touched you. You were just happy he was going to take you away from the tavern, away from Darrick. You carefully reached a small hand to brush against his large one, closing your eyes when you touched. You felt the last of your tears escape down your cheeks and the man before rubbed them away.

The beast the locals claimed Sandor Clegane was, was not who stood before you. He had changed, learned from his brush with death. You cared for the man in front of you, not the man he had done; the things he had done. So when you opened your eyes and your hand caressed the burned side of his face, it didn’t bother either of you. Sandor’s eyes shut, wondering why he hadn’t tried to find you sooner. You brought his face closer to you, letting your lips graze his cheek. You pressed a soft kiss there, a thank you and a promise for more all at once. Sandor longed to pull you closer, kiss you like he meant it; because he did mean it. He wanted to be able to love someone, to love you, without fear. You were the only woman that showed him how to care, about life and something more then himself; and he wouldn’t let that go.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low as he spoke, “we should go.” You nodded after pulling your lips from his cheek. He grabbed your bag and you stopped by his old room so he could find the armor he had left. When you both made your way back out to the main section of the inn, everyone had left. They probably feared what Sandor might’ve done to them; afterall none of them came to your aid. Even Darrick was in hiding.

“There’s a horse outside,” you whispered. Sandor’s hand found yours and you guided him to the stables. A black mare stood proudly as you saddled it. The Hound tied the bags to it as you petted it’s head for comfort.

“C’mere,” Sandor said, bringing your attention back to him. You walked over to him and his hands found your waist. Before you could say anything, he lifted you up and onto the horse. You glanced down at him, but soon realized he was going to get on too. He heaved himself up and settled himself behind you. You grabbed the reins, handing them to him.

“Where do you wanna go, little bird?” His voice was soft and low in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You turned your head to face him, his eyes peering down at you.

“Maybe North, maybe South,” Sandor smiled, actually smiled at you. The rare sight was burned into your memory; as was the last glimpse of the stony crag you used to climb as you both rode down the road, letting it fade out against the soft pink sky.

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alykazamfanfiction · 7 years

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Stolen Hearts in the City of Thieves Chap. Four (Final Chapter)

In the late morning Gajeel slowly opened his eyes to the room around him, his eyes found Levy as he watched her write on her naked, love bitten, and passion bruised skin with her pen while standing before a dingy full size mirror that hung on the wall by the door. He could not help but observe her as he felt the proof of his passion on her skin made her all the more beautiful.

“What'r'ya doin?” he asked while propping himself up from the mattress with his arms, startling the small woman. She sucked in a sharp inhale as she turned to the dragonslayer, but levy's fear quickly ebbed into relief and a chortle as she backed away from the mirror.

“Oh! Gajeel, you dummy, you scared me! I'm just concealing some of...these...” The Fairy Tail mage turned her nude form around to both show Gajeel, and admire with her own hooded eyes, the small bruises and and marks that covered her fair skin.

She smiled sheepishly as she continued, “it's not that I wish to cover them up, but given my small stature and all; if anyone from the guild were to see me like this, they would become ridiculous about me going on missions solo.”

“Well that's stupid! Don't they trust ya?” Gajeel questioned as she returned to writing her magic on her delicious soft skin. Watching how every pen stroke caused the evidence of his love for her to fade away.

“You would think,” Levy answered while focused on her work, “considering the group missions I go on end up with me doing more of the work than my comrades. I may be small, and my magic isn't very offensive. But as you know, it is how I use my magic that makes me strong. Sometimes strength is more about how cunning you can be with your magic rather than how much power you can force behind it.

The Iron Dragon curled his lip into a smile. She was truly incredible.

“Promise me,” he commanded from the bed stopping Levy in the middle of her spells.

“Gajeel...”

“When this war breaks out, and I know it will, promise me ya'll let me pull ya outta harms way.”

“But my-” Levy tried to argue but was interrupted with a shout and a hard thud as Gajeel struck the headboard with the bottom of his fist.

“Damn it, woman, I don't care about yer friends! Hell I don't even care about my own damn guild!” the dragonslayer quickly left the bed,the bed sheet that covered him slid away from him silkily as he stormed up to Levy. He grabbed his lover's shoulders before pulling her into a tight embrace. His face fell into her wild hair; it was soft and her scent was like a truth serum as he let his guard down and whispered, “Please. Just let me do this. I don't wanna lose ya.”

Levy returned the embrace and held her ear to his chest, hearing his beating heart that now belonged to her. A monotone melody that, she wondered, had faintly been heard by anyone else. The script mage could not reject that gentle beating that reverberated within him. In her thoughts on sunny days, dreaming about what love could be like, she never imagined how powerful a feeling could be. She assumed nothing in Earthland existed with the power to forsake her family.

“I promise,” she sighed into his firm tanned chest. “I'll run away with you when the time comes.”

They held each other in a comfortable silence before separating to finish packing and readying themselves to go their separate ways. These were their last hours in the City of Thieves.

~~**~~

After leaving the inn their walk to the train station was long and solemn with both mages walking slowly through the streets to prolong their last moments together. Other than the occasional small talk the stroll through the city was also a quiet one to boot. Upon reaching the station levy purchased her ticket back to Magnolia from a small old man who reminded her of her guild master. Typically seeing familiar faces of her guild mates in strangers made her eager to return home, but today it only caused melancholy to stew in her stomach.

Gajeel stood behind her a few feet from the ticket kiosk. She would probably wish for him to join her for the ride back home but he rather her not see him fall ill from motion sickness from the train. It always made him feel embarrassed for anyone to see how weak transportation made him.

She turned and walked to him after receiving her ticket, he heard the words before they even left her soft full lips, “You're not getting a ticket? This train makes a stop as it passes through Oak Town.”

Trying hard to retain his confidence he shook his head and replied, “Nah, I'd rather walk. It'll give me time ta think about some things.”

The Fairy Tail mage was curious if Gajeel's decision to walk was for the same reason her friend and guild mate Natsu always declined the use of transportation, wondering if all dragonslayers had a deficiency for uncontrolled motion. She found it easier to leave the curiosity a mystery for the time being. “Would you at least wait for the train with me at the platform? I feel like there's so much to talk about before we go our separate ways.” Levy paused before continuing, “I don't want to say 'goodbye' yet.”

“Then don't,” was all that Gajeel stated to the blunette as he brushed a stray lock of hair that escaped her headband behind her ear with a rough calloused hand. The Iron Dragon felt the same, not wanting to return to the routine of his everyday being around so many hooligans he honestly wanted nothing to do with. He did not want what he had before him to be a passing ship in the ocean voyage of life, but that was neither here nor there, she had to go home to her guild and he had to give in, he had to let her go.

“C'mon, let's get ya to tha train before I decide ta take ya back ta Phantom Lord,” he added as he reached for her hand, leading her to the train's platform.

“G-Gajeel!” She called out as he pulled her stumbling form down the station's wide hallway and outside to the sunny wooden platform.

“What?” He turned to her seeing a determined woman with fire in her eyes.

“Why are you being so calm about this!?” Levy demanded an answer for his sudden behavior. She could not shake the feeling that maybe somewhere in her extraordinary mind she had doubts about her feelings; mainly of whether or not he reciprocated them.

Gajeel stood tall before her, the sun eclipsed by his great form, he was dark and his red eyes glowed like stoked coals in a fire as he stared into her own that shimmered like gold in the sunshine. It were as if the light of the world had met darkness for the first time, unaware of how they both needed the other to simply exist.

“There ain't nothing calm about me,” his voice was quiet but rough with a miasma of emotions he was withholding. He was frightening and beautiful to the script mage, and Levy's heart began to beat like a war drum within her ribs. “I wanna steal ya from Fairy Tail, I wanna go rogue from Phantom Lord. But I know how ya fairies are about yer loyalty, and well, I like tha dirty work I get ta do for my own guild.” Gajeel ended with a dark chuckle and a grin to match.

“But,” He added with a sudden change in his tone, “ya do somethin' ta me and I'm startin' ta think I know what it is. 'N' because of that I am anything but calm.”

With those last word, Gajeel brought his hands together. He held one hand open while the other had his fingers clustered to a point as he placed the bundled fingertips at the center of his open palm. The iron mage pulled his hand away from his open palm as a thin trail of iron followed his fingertips, subtle movements of his hand added shape to the iron as he created it with his magic. The result of his spell revealed an iron quill much like the one Mira had gifted Levy. But unlike the golden light pen's soft feather fringe, the dragonslayer formed the feather to resemble dragon scales.

Gajeel grasped the iron quill in the hand that molded it and reached for Levy's small hand with the other before placing the offering into it lovingly. His gentleness reminiscent of their first kiss the night before. Staring at the gift now in her hand, the scrip mage understood the gravity of her lover's internal battle, and how remarkable it was that someone as notorious as he would have the heart to be compelled to make such an amorous gesture.

Suddenly Levy understood her own fears and desires, awestruck of the splendid power that something as simple as love possessed. She tightened her grip on the iron quill in her hand knowing her new pen was strong and dark like its creator as tears began to swell in her eyes only to plummet down her cheeks.

“It's not fair, you know, forcing me to make a promise to abandon my family,” The Fairy Tail mage began as tears continued to fall from her eyes. “Like I'm some princess that needs to be saved. Well I'm not! I am bound to the chains of fate just like you! So it's only right that you do the same for me!”

Gajeel was relieved that they were the only ones waiting on the platform. Having this shining woman crying before him would only bring him misinformed glares and whispers of judgment from other passengers awaiting their trains, hoping the shadow that darkened her mood would just leave her alone and go away. However by being alone he was free to reveal his heart to her as the iron walls that encased it had crumbled to rubble for the fairy woman effortlessly. His eyes widened upon hearing her confession and was ready to comply to any demand she would ask of him.

He cupped her face in his hands and wiped the tears from her cheeks. He wanted to look into those amber eyes as he spoke to her words that would never be meant for anyone else.

“Name it, I'll level entire countries if ya wanted. Whatever ya wish I'll give t'ya.”

Levy gazed into his garnet eyes as she whispered her wish.

“Promise me, no matter what happens, that you'll be by my side. If this war destroys everything, or never comes at all; even if I somehow become a casualty, please promise me you'll stay by my side.”

The Iron Dragon heard the words and answered her without hesitation as he leaned in and pressed his forehead against hers, taking in her scent of ancient tomes and ink now laced with hints of his own scent mixed in, “I promise.”

They leaned in for one last kiss as the train whistled for passengers after slowly coasting to the platform. Levy smiled at Gajeel as she reached for one of his hands that were holding her face and wrote the word 'iron' in the palm of his hand, creating one last gift for him. The metal word in his hand was different than the first time she created iron from her magic as he noticed the small heart in the 'o'. The dragonslayer smiled letting out a small “gihi” from his lips.

Levy began to step away, their hands holding tightly as long as they could before finally letting go. Allowing their fingertips to graze each other in a final effort to remain connected before becoming two lonesome travelers once more. As she walked to the train car she looked back at her dragon with the long unruly hair that cascaded down like a jagged shadow, making his piercings shine brighter in the sun, one last time; waving her goodbye to him as he lifted his own hand to the same. The smiles they wore were bittersweet, for despite being forlorn about separating, they were happy beyond words to have found each other in the chaotic world they lived in.

Moments after she was no longer visible after boarding the train began to whistle one last time to announce its departure from the platform as it trailed away, gaining speed while it disappeared in the distance toward Magnolia.

Gajeel sighed as he lowered his waving hand and looked down at the iron in his hand. He placed it to his lips and bit down, tasting the sweet element only her magic could conjure. The dragonslayer devoured all but the 'o' with the heart in its center. He eyed it for a moment with a smile before stuffing it in his pants pocket as he walked away from the platform pondering over the seeds of change she planted that had now taken root in his heart. With that, for the first time, he hoped the gods would allow fate to be kind to them if the war between the Fairies and the Phantoms were to finally break out.

A/N: the final part of this story with Gajeel eating all but the 'o' in the word iron was inspired by Rboz's doujinshi when Gajeel became injured during a solo mission after seeing someone confess their love to her.

#fairy tail #gajevy #fuckyeahgajevy #Gajeel Redfox #Levy McGarden #Gajeel X Levy #rboz

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pubtheatres1 · 5 years

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JESSICA INNES ON MULTI-ROLING IN ‘Trainspotting’ Jessica Innes portrays Gail Houston (Renton's Girlfriend), Laura McEwan (Tommy's Girlfriend), June (Begbie's Girlfriend), Cathy Renton (Renton's Mother) and more in Trainspotting. Q. How do you make the changes of character in Trainspotting? In 75 minutes, playing 7 different people, you can only do so much to change your characterisation – I focus a lot on my voice. I get recognised, a lot, for my distinctive husky tones. I use this as much as I can in shows - heightening my voice for young Gail, but taking full advantage of my deeper tones for the sultry, sexy Laura and for the tired and desperate Cathy Renton (Renton’s Mother). Sometimes I have to quickly use Emotional Recall – an acting method where we think of a similar situation we have been in to that of the character we are playing. We draw from our feelings at the time to give a more realistic representation. The characters I play range from comedy, to tragedy, to powerful, and weak, and that also helps when I give myself intentions as an actor. Giving myself different intentions (or goals) with each character also helps me change character. Q Have you ever had difficult moments? I would not say I have had any difficult moments, but the challenge is very different from the other actors. Looking at the characters, especially of Renton (Gavin Ross) and Tommy (Greg Esplin), they have to create one in-depth journey for the audience to believe in 75 minutes. I have to build seven different emotional journeys that last under 10 minutes each, but have to be equally believable so that the audience can feel something for my characters too. That is my challenge – my favourite challenge – and I wouldn’t describe it as difficult, but if it were easy then it would not be theatre! Q Do you use costume and make-up to help to change characterisations? Yes – Adam Spreadbury-Maher, the Artistic Director of the King’s Head and director (alongside Greg Esplin) spoke to me about costume specifically for the characters of Gail Houston in the innocent white, Laura McEwan in the fiery red and June – Begbie’s pregnant girlfriend – in dark blue, etc. These colours were to highlight the emotional status of each character. It was then up to me to design the costume, as I have to be able to get in and out of them as quickly as possible – maybe a skill better left off of the CV! Make-up stays the same because I have absolutely no time to change it! I do a lot more with my hair though – I got an undercut so I can change it to differentiate between characters. Q. What’s your favourite character and why? My favourite character is Cathy Renton – she is the only woman in the play who does not cry, swear, or is beaten up. She is the strongest woman in the play as she is the one who saves Renton’s life after his overdose. She is powerful enough to convince him to come off heroin. My favourite comment I ever heard from an audience member about Cathy Renton was a man giggling at the end of my scene and whispering to his friend “that is exactly like my mum!” I was over the moon that I had managed to capture a character - over twice my age - which someone could completely relate to. I also receive a lot of comments from audience members who say they too love Renton’s Mother – which is incredibly sweet! I also love the character of Laura McEwan. She has challenged me as an actor so much, as I have to strut about on stage in a bra and thong. I laughed with the other cast members a lot saying “it’s great if you’re sexy by accident, but I have to BE sexy!” Scary times! She is a brilliant character though because she is so independent and strong. I have the incredibly fun task of grabbing a man in the audience and shouting at him “no f**king guy ever hurts me!” … she’s brilliant! Q Is it important to put something of yourself into your characterisations and what do you bring? I don’t think you can act without putting a part of yourself into a character. You have to be believable and relatable in some sense so that the audience travels with you through the scene or the play – that’s my favourite part of theatre. The audience comes with you through your emotional journey during the play instead of just observing a live story. This is especially why I use emotional recall. I am 22 so, to portray Renton’s Mother, I think about my younger sister and remind myself of situations where I have wanted to help her, to get across the maternal instincts needed for the scene. Sometimes it can also be a way to vent yourself through the words of the character – like Laura McEwan, who dominates men and does not tolerate being hurt or treated badly. The same goes for June, who is submissive to her boyfriend and tries to excuse every fault. We have all been both of those girls!! Q The range of your performing credits are unusual, including playing an elderly woman, falling in love with half eagle/half man, the taxi driver with a split personality, an Aristocratic Lady in a ballet, and my personal favourite a parrot puppet? Just how challenging were these roles? Haha – that has to be one of the strangest questions I have ever been asked. I suppose the most challenging (but fun) piece, was when I did a physical theatre piece with puppetry – the parrot puppet! The story was based off of Flaubert’s Parrot – a very strange but excellent story indeed, written by Julian Barnes. It was difficult as I had to make everyone believe in a beautifully handmade parrot head that was attached to my hand – especially when the parrot died in our story, it was wonderful to hear the audience “aww” at the tragedy. The taxi driver with the split personality was equally wonderful to play, because she literally changed on every sentence – sometimes even half way through a sentence. The audience’s reaction was amazing, and I used a lot of my voice in that character using ominous dark tones for this comical character. A fantastic question I repeatedly got asked after the show was “how do you do that with your voice?” … I wish I knew the answer. Q In your CV I see that you have other skills including Burlesque and ballet. Useful? I did not go to drama school after college. I took a leap and luckily landed into In Your Face Theatre and started touring shows. I use a lot of workshops and short courses to build my skills, including Dance. Burlesque has a lot of acting in it as well so I thought that would be perfect to get some skills in – this definitely helped with Laura McEwan and finding the confidence to be in underwear. Ballet is great for every actor to control posture which helps with breathing. I love spending my time doing workshops because I meet a lot of people - it’s great for networking, confidence building, skill developing and it’s fun. Trainspotting is now on tour after a sold out run at The King's Head Theatre, Islington, London - 2-27th February 2017 Cu Jessica Innes is represented by Van Rensburg Artist Management

#Trainspotting Irvine Welsh King's Head Theatre Jessica Innes Multi-roling Playing multiple roles

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