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livia-dovehallow · 2 years

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unseen scenes - cecily turns 12 (ft. charlotte & henry)

remember the whole “if you leave the Nephilim, the Clave still lay claim on your children, and a representative will come every 6 years until they are 18 to ask if they want to be a Shadowhunter” business? haven’t you ever wondered what happened when Cecily turned 12? Ella was gone and Will had gone to London three years prior when he himself was 12. this is my interpretation of that tense day in 1875.

Charlotte sighed and set down the letter that had arrived on her desk early that morning. She’d expected it, but despite having years to prepare, she felt helpless at the various possibilities that could arise.

Will didn’t want to know. Not unless something had happened to them. He didn’t even want the good news. What terrible turmoil he had to go through not to ever want to speak of his family. It filled Charlotte with terrible sorrow.

“Lottie?”

Her mood lifted the slightest bit at the sound of her nickname, spoken only by one person in the entire world. She looked up at Henry, who for once, did not hold any sort of contraption or invention in his hands. “Henry,” she breathed.

He looked at her concerned. “What is it? Are you troubled?”

“It is Will’s younger sister, Cecily,” she said, and gave him a sympathetic smile at his sudden expression of worry. “She is all right. But she does turn twelve today.”

Understanding dawned on Henry’s face. It was a rare moment, indeed, when Henry was not aloof with excitement or humor. Even if he had been at this moment, Charlotte figured it wouldn’t have done much to ease her worry. “The claim,” he confirmed, and Charlotte nodded. “Have they dispatched them already?”

“They have.” Charlotte unceremoniously held the letter out to him, which he took and read quickly. Ragnor Fell’s letter gave her little information about the events to come, except that he had confirmed with his sources that the Clave representatives had been seen crossing into Wales.

Henry stepped forward, the letter tossed forgotten on the desk, and took her hand. Her heart jumped, but this was no time to dwell on her feelings. She had to think of Will’s. “It will be all right,” he said, sounding assured. He appeared more confident about that statement that she did. “Whatever happens, Charlotte, it is not yours alone to face.”

Charlotte swallowed painfully. Henry was such a kind man and gentle husband. He’d done her a great service, marrying her to fulfill the promise owed to her father and to allow her to run the Insititue. He had no reason to continue being so kind to her. She shook herself out of her thoughts. “There is no way Will isn’t aware what day it is. Will you check on him?”

Henry gave her a smile. “Of course. Though, I am afraid he will know what I am up to and give me a challenge. I should have to bring one of my inventions with me to appease his mood, I think.”

Oh, Henry. Don’t injure the boy just to distract his thoughts.

...

Will was not in the mood to speak to anyone.

Not that he usually was to begin with. He dreaded when Jem would wake and look for him, for he was the only person who was not deterred from Will’s sharp tongue. And he would be another person Will would have to lie to about what day it was for him.

He could hear Henry clanging his way about the Institute, no doubt showing off whatever latest contraption he had conjured. Henry always tried to get him to talk by using those death traps. Didn’t he ever give up?

Despite his best efforts, Will could not stop thinking about Cecily. Had she grown much? Was she still as stubborn? Worst of all, would she come back with the Clave representatives?

Thud. He sunk another knife into the target at the other side of the room and glared. He missed her. His sister. He missed both of them, if he was honest. He had little right to miss them.

“Any harder and the board will split in half,” joked a voice behind him. Will closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“Go away.”

Henry did not, in fact, go away. “You know, I’ve wondered if putting the target on a pulling system would be a better training mechanism. Very seldom does a demon remain in a single spot and unmoving.”

“Fascinating,” Will muttered. He threw another knife.

...

Cecily knew exactly who was at the door when she heard the knocking. She sat in her room, staring blankly at the window that faced the front of the house and into the vast hills that surrounded it. The last time she faced those people, she had her siblings to welcome her after she refused the offer. What did she have now?

Her father’s voice boomed through the walls. “Haven’t you enough of my children?”

Cecily could not hear the response of the others at the door, but she knew where her mother was. In town, away from the possibility of crossing paths with those people again. She’d told Cecily it was to collect the ingredients she needed to bake Cecily her birthday dessert that evening. Cecily knew better.

Her father called her name, less of a command and more of an empty sound. Cecily stood and calmly made her way into the hall and down the stairs, where she saw two men dressed in normal clothing opposite her father. She could see those markings on their skin beyond the collars of their shirts. It had been years since she last saw them, but she did not forget them.

“You know the Law, Edmund,” said one of the men. Her father scowled, his pale blue eyes darkened in anger and grief. Though, Cecily had to admit, they almost always were nowadays. “She is Nephilim by blood.”

Cecily stood at her father’s side and remained silent, her face even, giving away no expression or emotion in any manner or direction. “You think that in six years her decison will have changed?” her father asked, spiteful.

“A great many things have changed in six years, as we see it,” said the other man. Cecily forced herself to remain silent and calm. For a group of people who claim to be so uninterested in the lives of so-called Mundanes, they sure knew a lot about her family. “You’ve made your position quite clear, Edmund, but it is your daughter’s choice.”

“I will save you the time of walking me through a tedious interview,” Cecily finally spoke, staring down both men unabashed. She remembered the tone she had taken with them six years prior, when she’d still only been a small thing, and how angry it made them. It was satisfying and there was nothing they could do to a six-year-old girl about it. She took the same tone with them now and saw the same flicker of annoyance in their expressions. “My answer remains the same. No.”

“Your dedication to your parents is admirable,” said the man in the lighter suit. If he had shared his name, Cecily did not bother to remember it. “But you were gifted blood of the Angel by birth. A duty most would find to be an honor.”

“I do not choose how I am born,” Cecily replied. “And I do not find it an honor. My answer is no. I shall see you again when I am eighteen, to tell you yet again that I will not be a Shadowhunter.”

The other man, the one in the darker suit, shrugged and began to turn. “This is a waste of time, Hightower. Let us return to Idris and give our report.”

The men went back out the door, but not before the other man, Hightower, shook his head. “At least your brother made the wiser decision.”

Cecily was ready to explode, but her father slammed the door in their faces before she could. He said nothing to her. Instead, he patted her shoulder, kissed her head, and returned to his study. He closed the door behind him, but Cecily knew what he kept in there. She could smell it on him.

She turned and went back up the stairs, back into her room, and sat back down on the bed to look out at the same window. She hated them, the Shadowhunters, for tearing her family apart. She didn’t want to be one of them, but this was not a preferable life, either. Every day was the same. Her father, locked away in the study, drinking. Her mother, in the gardens all day long, weeping every time she came across the bed of wildflowers that grew just outside the fencing that Ella used to pick and keep in her room.

One day she would find him, her brother. She would march him back home and put her family back together again. It was this reason that, despite refusing to be one of them, she ached at her decision. Was she right to say no? Should she have said yes, and gone with them, for the sole purpose of finding her brother? They would take her right to where he would be.

Life was full of choices. Cecily feared she made the wrong one.

...

The day came to and end with dark cloud cover and silent drizzle. Charlotte awaited anxiously by the foyer for any news from Ragnor Fell to no avail. She supposed that no news was good news; that Cecily had refused the Clave’s offer of joining the Nephilim. That was what Will wanted, right? But who wanted never to see their family again when it was obvious they loved them? Charlotte could not understand Will’s choices, but she would accept them.

A gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder, followed by her favorite voice. “No news?”

She shook her head and sighed. “None. I fear we may not hear anything for a day or two, regardless of the outcome. It’s such a journey from northern Wales to London.”

“Come to bed, then,” Henry urgered her. “No sense in making yourself unwell with worry if there is nothing that can be done.”

He was right, but it broke Charlotte’s heart. “How is Will?”

“Locked up in his room. Been there since dinner. I don’t expect him to come out.”

Charlotte turned and looked up at Henry, taking comfort in his support. “It could not have been an easy day for him. I hope he is better by the morning.”

Henry gave her a rueful smile and gathered her up in his arms. “I’ll wager that he will not be until time has passed and the window for a hypothetical arrival has gone and she has not come. TIme, darling.”

Charlotte closed her eyes. She had a sinking feeling, deep in her stomach, that Will wanted to see his sister. He never spoke of her, or his parents, but every significant day--whether it be a birthday or anniversary--he became withdrawn. That was not the behavior of someone who did not want to remember.

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libidomechanica · 11 months

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Untitled # 10052

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#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #175 texts #ballad

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sepia-mahogany · 3 years

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Prompt: hearing about xuanwus defeat, madam jin and jin zixuan come to lotus pier and overhear madam yu saying wei wuxian should have let the 'sect heirs die', lwj who's recovering also overhears, the 3 get first hand experience of jiang household situation and decide fk this and take wwx out of there, its a prompt from vrishchikawrites blog (a wonderful write!) So maybe ask permission?

From the prompt on @vrishchikawrites

Jin Zixuan could not forget the young man, the head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, who, despite his previous (petty) grievances with, had stepped up when everyone else had been frozen on the spot, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not get his blood stained image out of his mind. Which had led to this discussion.

“What? No! I forbid it.” his father responded when he asked for sending reinforcements to Jiang Sect, while he understood with Cloud Recesses burnt down, and Nie under attack, either Yunmeng Jiang or Lanling Jin were next on the table, and despite having well equipped men, with the best of weapons, his father refused to extend help.

Refused to stand against those who sought to harm his son, ‘in situations like these, know when to step back’ he had said, and Jin Zixuan could feel shame creeping up under his skin, outnumbered and clearly at losing stakes, he hadn’t hesitated to save him, and what would that make him if he forgot the debt so clearly owed? To live the lavish life of a coward..! He could see his mother fuming from where she stood, and closed his eyes to suppress his bitter thoughts, he wanted to do something, anything to help.

And suddenly, anger melted from her face and that smile crept up her face and he felt a chill down his spine, a sense of foreboding overcame him, he could see his father tense as well. “Of course, the Jin Sect sides with them.” she spoke, venom dripping off her every word. “Nothing wrong if the Sect Leader’s wife wants the marriage renewed?” a pit formed in his stomach, he did not want to marry a woman he barely knew, but using this opportunity, they could, in a sense create a bond, stronger than of just two sworn sisters.

However, “Madam Jin meets up with her sworn sister, Madam of Jiang Sect, just as Qishan Wen begins its attacks?” the war has been declared, how would it seem if the two sect Madams, and the Sect heirs are meeting, with or without the Sect Leader? “The risks are completely unneeded, what do we gain from this?” his mother glared at his father, who pointedly ignored her, Jin Zixuan exhaled, thinking things over.

As much as he disliked the engagement, he knew she would not bring it up, unless the situation, as dire as it was, needed it, this bond could provide future aid to one another should the need arise, so Jin Zixuan kept his disagreements to himself, because he knew she wouldn’t force him, not with the concerns of a cold loveless marriage like his parents, he knew she was using it as a cover to aid her sworn sister.

An opportunity, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then remembered how the Second Jade, Lan Wangji had stood shoulder to shoulder with him, and Wei Wuxian, Head Disciple, had stepped up to save them.

Jin Zixuan exhaled, and made a decision, muttering out a half-hearted excuse, he left them on their own, and later into the night, he approached his mother.

--------

The boat landed steadily, unnoticed in the middle of the night, his mother had won the final say in the matter, of course with the reluctant agreement of remaining disguised as just another trade ship, the serene view would have been calming, had his nerves not have been high strung from adrenaline, small sacrifices, he could of course find a way to break off the engagement in a future of more peaceful times.

Jin Zixuan climbed out the boat first, followed calmly by his mother, the disguises were near perfect, for the disciples around the brightly lit place to look curious, but not alarmed. One, he recognised seeing a few times at Cloud Recesses, came near them with a nervous smile. “We offer you our sincerest apologies but...we’d appreciate it if travellers could avoid an audience with the Sect Leader?”

The disguises were perfect then, for they had been mistaken as travellers that would go to and fro from Yunmeng Jiang Sect, his mother sniffed and looked at the disciple sternly “We are not here for the Sect Leader, but the Violet Spider, we have an important message for them.” Jin Zixuan had noticed before but now it had become more apparent as the disciples shifted around, something was off, it dampened his enthusiasm and the rush he had felt earlier, instead concern filled him, had something happened to Wei Wuxian?

His mother held out a token, the disciple’s eyes widened and he bowed in respect, “I assume this would be enough?” Madam Jin said curtly, and the disciple nodded, though tensely. “This one will escort you to the guest chambers”

The curious gazes had not been moved, as they moved inside, step by step, down the corridor they went, as the muffled voices became more distinguishable, all 3 of them froze when they heard, unmistakably the Jiang Sect Heir’s voice. “-You shouldn’t have played the hero and you shouldn’t have cared for such a hell of a thing. If in the beginning you hadn’t….”

Jin Zixuan felt a cold pit forming in his stomach, surely he must be mistaken, but seeing the expression twisting on his mothers face, he could assume he was not, in fact, misunderstanding what Jiang Wanyin was implying.

The disciple bowed quickly, slightly panicked “If you’d follow me-” Madam Jin pointed at him and he immediately shut up, head bowed, just as the Jiang Sect Leader reprimanded “Jiang Cheng.” Silence followed. “Do you know in which ways what you just have said is not appropriate?” was followed by a glum “Yes.”

Even if slightly, Jin Zixuan relaxed, his mother’s expression lightening into a frown, ‘at least someone is self-aware’ Madam Jin thought. “He’s just angry and speaking without care” another voice added, Jin Zixuan perked up, Wei Wuxian! So he was alright, he felt relieved. Madam Jin continued to frown, Wei Wuxian was clearly trying to lessen the pressure off of the Jiang heir.

Another harsh voice cut through them all “Yes, he doesn’t understand but what does it matter, as long as Wei Ying understands!?” rang out her voice, Madam Jin’s lips pursed into a line, of what her son had just said, that was what she was focusing on?

“‘To attempt at the impossible’ is exactly how he is, isn’t it? Fooling around even though he knew it’d bring trouble to his sect!?” Jin Zixuan sneaked a look at his mother to see her eyes cold, her fist clenched tightly, he was aware they shouldn’t be hearing this, but this? It wasn’t what they expected at all, he was frozen in place, what in the world was he hearing?

Madam Jin’s thoughts matched her appearance, for once she felt less than charitable towards Yu Ziyuan, and more and more like a fool, here she was, risking her and her son’s safety, her sects safety, for a woman who couldn't care less about her son’s life, but was also wilfully blinding herself to the war right on the horizon, ‘No’ she thought to herself, ‘it was I who was truly blind’

And it was the boy she heard being called ‘Fengmian’s bastard’ or ‘son of a servant’ who had saved her son's life instead, she bit back the bitter chuckle that threatened to escape her, truly, what a fool she was, to be caught in the violet spiders web.

She looked at her son, whose face clouded over the more he heard, she grabbed his arm tightly, if nothing else then to prevent him from barging inside, with Jiang Fengmian’s favor, she was sure that they didn’t need to interfere, until, “My lady, what are you doing here?” she held back her disbelief, her son on the other hand, inhaled sharply.

This was what he was focusing on? Not the insults to his bas- to his ward? To his sect’s entire foundation? It would seem she was truly mistaken, in her and Yu Ziyuan sharing their miseries, entirely wrong about her character, and who was still throwing around callous words for the sake of it, for what else? If not her own cruelty?

"What am I doing here? What a joke that I am asked of such a thing! Sect Leader Jiang, do you still remember that I'm also the leader of Lotus Pier? Do you still remember that every inch of the earth here is my territory? Do you still remember, between the one lying there and the one standing there, which one is your son?" Disbelief and disgust couldn’t even begin to describe what Madam Jin was feeling, the Sect Leader’s response, however, “I do remember.” Enhanced those to the heights she didn't even know she was capable of feeling.

And so stood the enraged Madam of Jin Sect, the horrified Jin heir and one ashamed disciple whose head could bow no lower, but that was nothing compared to what was said next “You do remember, but there's no use if you simply remember. Wei Ying, he really can't take it unless he stirs up some trouble, can he? If I had known, I would've made him stay in Lotus Pier properly and not go outside. Could Wen Chao really have dared to do anything to the two young masters of the GusuLan Sect and Lanling Jin Sect? Even if he did, it'd mean that they ran out of luck. Since when was it your turn to play the hero?"

Blood roared in Madam Jin’s ears, her nails digging into her palm, she wanted to bite Yu Ziyuan’s head off there and then. ‘Of all the idiotic, foolish, horrid, things she could utter-’ in her cursing, she only realised she had put too much force in her rage filled haze when her son hissed in pain, she immediately let go of his arm, and pinched the bridge of her nose, taking calming breaths.

She was afraid she would do something terrible and irrevocable if she stayed there any longer, listening to a pathetic mockery of- she exhaled and pushed Jin Zixuan towards the open doors. “B-but mother-” he looked back but she gave him that look and he quietened “Later a-Xuan.” while moving outwards, the disciple trailing behind them, they could easily catch some of the words the woman threw at Wei Wuxian.

Madam Jin gritted her teeth in anger, and left without looking back, once she and her son were seated in the boat. “A-Xuan” she began, lightly ruffling his hair “Your marriage is up to you to decide, I will have no say in the matter from here onwards” Her son was not going to be married into that cursed Sect no matter what if she could help it, she moved forward to pull him into a hug, “Mother was wrong.”

“But mother what about..?” She heard him say, she pulled back and rest one hand on his shoulder, the other caressing his cheek, her son, who by the Jiang’s standards, should’ve been killed, and her blood boiled in her veins. “We came here to make a bond and talk if it were possible, since that wasn’t possible, it can be done some other day.” She lightly patted him, and seeing his thoughts drift off, thought to herself darkly ‘and if the Jiangs are attacked, well, they ran out of luck then.’

Her son hesitantly nodded, “Wei Wuxian...I owe him, for saving me then, if not for him.....” She sniffed, as if indicating what was obvious “Of course,” When the news spread later that Lotus Pier was attacked, with Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian on the run, she hoped for Wei Wuxian’s survival, more so than the Jiang Sect Heir.

And if, perhaps, after a few years her son proposed sworn brotherhood with that Wei Wuxian, well, it wasn’t without her approval.

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

authors notes i guess?

Okay so writing Madam Yu’s lines legit left me disgusted like wtf was she even saying?? Also like I tried to write Madam Jin similar but a bit less than Madam Yu (ya know madam jin never whipped kids with her spiritual weapons, if she had any, not to our knowledge at least...right?) but ended up venturing straight into slightly dark madam jin heh, also like no engagement, no jin-wei tense relationship, (there’ll be 1-2 parts more probably) also wwx woke up earlier in this one, this’ll serve as catalyst for later years.

#mdzs fic #jin zixuan #madam jin #jin guangshan #jiang wanyin #jiang fengmian #madam yu #unnamed disciple lol #prompt writing #anon asks #my writing

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dracowars · 3 years

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Hi! I was wondering if I could request a Draco fic where he and Y/N are cuddling together when Y/N receives an owl from her parents in which they give her bad news or scold her or something like that. Then she completely freaks out/shuts down and Draco calms her down and comforts her. I'm just really craving fluff and I love caring and protective Draco and would love to read something like this. If you don't wanna write it tho, that's a-okay. Thank you!

cursed | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x greengrass!reader

word count: 1,4k

summary: where draco comforts y/n after receiving bad news

a/n: omg, i'm so so sorry that this took so long!!! :(

warnings: angst, mentions of death

universe: harry potter

“AHH! Draco, stop it, please!”, you beg him in the middle of your fit of laughter, your body writhing under his while trying to avoid his tickling attacks. Because of all the laughter, your stomach already hurts, and your breathing turned irregular. Draco, on the other hand, does not seem as exhausted as you and therefore he does not even think about stopping any time soon and shows no mercy as he continues to tickle you.

“Make me”, he gives you a slick grin when he stops briefly to give you a break and to position himself on top of you, his legs on either side of your upper body.

Again, you try to stop him and try to get a hold of his hands until you finally manage to catch one of his arms in a firm grip. Breathing hard, you look in each other’s eyes and you immediately know that you have no chance against him. Draco is much stronger than you and will be able to get out of your grip quickly.

He would have been able to if it had not been for a white snowy owl flying in through the open window, landing on the small bedside table next to your head and looking at you with big eyes when neither Draco nor you move an inch. A rolled-up letter is attached to its foot and your heartbeat quickens all of a sudden when you realize that this white owl belongs to your family, the pureblood family Greengrass.

And whenever you get a letter from home, it always means trouble.

Quietly clearing your throat after a few seconds have passed, Draco finally crawls off you so you can sit up and remove the parchment from the owl’s claw, but not without exchanging worried looks with Draco beforehand. Happy to have been relieved of its heavy load, the snowy owl rises back into the air before disappearing out the window into the bright sunshine.

You sit on the edge of Draco’s bed with the long letter in your hands, already shaking in fear from the uncertainty of what you may read in it. Draco knows this and also about your bad relationship with your parents, which is why he sits down next to you instantly and gently strokes up and down your back with his hand. The atmosphere in the room suddenly changes as tension fills the air, the joy from only a few seconds ago gone with the owl that delivered the letter.

“I am sure they just want to congratulate you on passing your OWL’s”, Draco tries to calm you down and lowers his head to be able to look into your face, which is now only covered by a blank expression. Putting his index finger under your chin, he lifts your head up and leads you to him, looking straight into your eyes, his own gray ones still radiating concern.

“You know my parents”, you sigh out loud and slowly remove your face from his grasp, focusing your gaze back on the letter that is still closed. You slightly run your thumb over the green wax seal, which shows the crest of your family. For a brief moment, you close your eyes, mentally preparing yourself for what is to come – at least you try – and finally open the envelope.

While your eyes fly over the lines and paragraphs, Draco keeps his distance, but also keeps an eye on you the whole time, trying to already get a clue about what your parents could have wrote through your expression. It would be nothing new if they would scold you again or complain about your insufficient performance in Hogwarts. Draco has seen all of this before, and he is used to this because he too is struggling with his parents’ high expectations.

Stunned, you lower the letter after you finished reading it, your hands now trembling even more and your eyes full of tears- Your face looks pale and all emotion in your face vanished all of a sudden. You go through the words one by one in your head, repeat them over and over again in order to be able to understand them.

While doing this, however, a tear has already found its way down your cheek, giving Draco the sign that he has given you enough time alone and that you now need him. He quickly moves closer to you again, still remaining careful to still give you the necessary distance you may need.

“Babe? What did they write?”, Draco asks carefully as he brushes a strand of hair from your face and behind your ear. You still do not move at his gentle touch, your gaze fixed straight ahead.

“Whatever they wrote, I am certain that they did not mean it”, Draco continues, only looking into your now sad face. “You are such a wonderful person and your parents-“

“My mother is going to die”, you interrupt him and as soon as the words leave your mouth, you can hardly believe them yourself. Even after everything you read in the letter, even now you still do not understand these words. A sudden silence arises until you blink your tears away and turn to Draco, who still looks at you with shock written all over his face.

“I-I am- I am so sorry”, Draco stutters, just as surprised by your statement as you are. However, not letting another second pass, he pulls you into a tight, loving and overall protective hug. A hug that has always given you more comfort than anyone else could.

Draco gently strokes your hair and lets you cry into his shoulder until you have calmed down a bit. Keeping you at arm’s length in front of him, he looks at you worried, still with big question marks over his head.

“Our- Our family has been cursed for generations already”, you utter while sobbing, wiping away a few of your tears while Draco listens attentively, his hand firmly clasped around yours. “W-With a blood curse.”

After saying this, Draco seems to have no words and you can see that he immediately wonders if you, like your mother, are also affected by this curse.

“I-I do not know if I will have it. I also can’t say whether if affects Daphne or Astoria. In some generations it has never appeared before and was passed onto the next generation nevertheless”, you explain as best you can since your parents never told you and your sisters much about it, after all until recently they assumed that their generation and the one from you and your sisters has been spared. “There is n-no cure. The curse weakens the body to such an extent that it is very likely to result in.. death.”

“Babe, I do not know what to say-“

“You do not have to say anything, Draco. I lied to you. We lied to everyone here. Nobody knows that our family had this deadly curse, otherwise we would- Otherwise the pureblood families would no longer accept us as one of them”, you sniff and try to force a smile onto your face while looking into Draco’s compassionate eyes. “I would like to say that I do not mind that my mother do has the curse after all, but-“

“But she is still your mother, Y/N. No matter how she treated you. You do not have to justify yourself for feeling this way”, Draco assures you and pulls you into his strong arms again, immediately making you feel much safer and more secure. Because of the sudden closeness, all dams break within you and this time you let all of your tears run free. Draco hold your trembling body in his arms and tries to give you the support you need right now. It pains him to see you like this and he can understand how torn you must feel in this situation. Your mother was always the one in particular who pushed you, even forced you, to have good grades in school, and now that you both know what fate she has, it still feels wrong to say that she deserves it.

At this moment, however, you are just glad that you are not alone, that you do not have to carry this burden alone. That you were finally able to tell Draco about your family’s biggest secret. You know that he and your sisters will always be by your side, no matter what the future holds for you.

“Everything will be alright.”

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valcalico · 3 years

Text

Athena and Ares

(Just my thoughts on them and their relationship)

I have a lot of feelings about these two. They have a very complex dynamic, where they don’t really like each other, but they can’t work without each other either.

Athena provides rationality to the cruelty of war. She is the strategy and logic behind it. The objective. One might say she represents the generals, and the politicians and the main heroes. Basically the big players.

And Ares? He’s the opposite. He represents the emotion associated with war. He is the bloodlust and the desperate fight. Where the battle is thickest, where there is no room for thought, and when its pure survival instinct that drives you, that’s Ares. He represents the worst parts: the blood and the violence and the cruelty. He is accompanied by fear and terror (Phobos and Deimos). One might say he is the god of soldiers.

So they need each other. If they actually worked together, they’d be one of the dangerous forces ever, even in god circles. But they don’t. Not only because of how differently they view the world, but also because of deeper nuances in their relationship.

Athena is beloved. She is Zeus’ favourite child and his right hand goddess. The people love her. She is the patron of one of the most powerful, influential cities, Athens. She is highly respected everywhere else too. A protector of heroes and a friend to humanity.

Ares, on the other hand, is disliked by many. Zeus says he is “the most hateful of all gods” and says he would have thrown him into Tartarus if he wasn’t his and Hera’s son. (Its in the Iliad) (This part always makes me sad poor ares) He is highly respected in Thrace and Sparta. But Athens dislikes him and worships him out of necessity only.

Even in modern times, Athena is considered a feminist icon and badass lady, while Ares is labelled a brute.

Most people know this. So why did I just type out all that? Cause context is important when delving into the myths.

So first of all, let’s debunk that last point I made. In the ancient myths (and I’ll try not to include romans esp. Ovid), it didn’t work that way at all. Of course it’s important to keep in mind that ancient Greece was very misogynistic. But still, Athena was not feminist at all. Her being a “masculine” woman (mostly) was what made her so acceptable to Athens and she was regularly used to shut down other women. Also:

(The actual translation of this scene was circulated a while back. So you’re probably familiar with this. Also I’m not saying this to offend any worshippers of Athena or anyone who admires her. There are a lot of bad things in greek mythology and Athena’s internal and external misogyny is probably the least of my concerns. Plus if the greek gods did exist, i believe they change with the society, so they will no longer be Like That in the present day.)

Ares, on the other hand, was incredibly feminist, especially for that time. He surrounded himself with women he loved and respected. (Aphrodite, Eris, Enyo, etc). His lovers were often famously women who challenged the status quo (Otrera, Cyrene). He was regularly show to be a good father to all his daughters, immortal and mortal. (Harmonia, Hippolyta, Penthesilia, Alkippe). Also:

If that isn’t the coolest thing EVER-

Anyway, I won’t delve deep into that (well, any more than I’ve already rambled about it).

Now that we have gotten that out of the way, we can get to the hypotheticals.

I headcanon that despite ALL the evidence to the contrary, they maybe don’t despise each other completely. I see them having more of a love-hate relationship.

The thing is, gods are very contrary creatures. Zeus and Hera’s fights shake the world one moment, and in the next, they are as loving as any. Apollo is smiling and singing in one moment and skinning a satyr alive in the next. This complexity should be given this relationship too.

Like I said above, they need each other. Both general and soldier are equally important in war. And I don’t think you can completely truly need someone and hate their existence at the same time. (There are exceptions)

This scene in the Iliad really got me thinking:

If you take the scene at face value, this is probably not something to think too much about. Its Athena going to Ares, insulting him a bit, and taking him away from the war.

But its more than that. First off, Athena goes upto Ares and can calmly convince him to listen to her. Second, look how she frames the question. She says “shall we” which i think is pretty important. Athena doesn’t need to worry about Zeus’ anger or his rules, as she shows later on in the Iliad, and before, during the Rebellion. Both Athena and Ares knows this well. So why does she also need to withdraw? She can make the point without adding herself to the equation. She can also fairly easily run him off the battlefield like she does later. But she doesn’t. And there isnt any hostility from Ares.

Instead, they go together, away from the battlefield and...sit down near a river bank? Basically relax as much as they can? That doesn’t sound like a hateful relationship.

There is also the fact that Ares was going to join sides with the greeks (aka on Athena and Hera’s side) until Aphrodite convinced him to join her instead.

Its clear from this that Ares doesn’t really have much of a stake in this fight. He doesn’t care much about the greater objectives of the war. The only thing that can convince him to take a side is the people one the sides. He fights for the people he cares about, not for any greater good. He easily changes his loyalty because of his love for Aphrodite. He frequently gets into fights to save his children. He goes against Diomedes partly because of how he wounded Aphrodite. All of this means that he cares for Athena too. (And for Hera ofc). Maybe he doesn’t care for her as much as he cares for Aphrodite, but its not really fair to expect him to.

I like to think they genuinely do care for each other a great deal, they just kinda suck at showing it. Maybe that changes as time passes. I can see Athena being quietly protective of Ares (maybe she makes up an excuse to send him away during the Rebellion because she knows he will be in danger otherwise). I definitely think she felt a little guilt (guilt, not regret) at stabbing Ares, seeing as it wasn’t really fair. Ares didn’t know she was there.

I also think that Ares, who spends a lot of time with awesome women and is very fierce in standing up for them if the need arises, will be the one who calls her out a lot of the time on her misogyny or hypocrisy. Athena also has a habit of suppressing any “vulnerable” emotion. She likes to keep all her guilt, sadness, fear, hurt, and regret all locked up tight. I feel like Ares is one of the few people she lets a few of those emotions out around, even if she still tries not to. And in the lighter moments, in private, maybe they joke around a bit and laugh, too.

Okay, now for the heavier bit. While i do think they care for each other, there is also a lot of resentment there. A lot of it, unfortunately, comes from how they are treated by their peers and elders. They like different people, they are liked by different people and they are liked to different degrees. Let’s talk about 3 of the main players.

1) Zeus. Does this surprise you?

I do think Zeus loves all his kids. He doesn’t like some of them, but he does love all of them. And he isn’t as bad of a father as everyone thinks. People have discussed that better so I’ll not rant about it here.

All that aside, he definitely has favourites. Athena is his favourite child (Apollo, I think, being his second). And this favouritism is SUPER OBVIOUS. Its like none of the rules apply to Athena, which is weird considering Zeus isn’t forgiving of those who defy his authority (did someone say Prometheus?)

Ares, on the other hand, is on the other side of the spectrum. The one Zeus dislikes the most.

We can see how this affects them in several instances. The most notable is probably in the Iliad, after Athena deceitfully stabs Ares and forces him to flee to Olympus, injured.

Ares calls Zeus out on his favouritism. He says that gods weren’t allowed to fight each other and if it were anyone else, they would have been punished. He says Zeus always does this, always lets Athena get away with everything, and that he needs to start getting his daughter under control.

Zeus doesnt like this too much and basically tells Ares to stop whining and that he isn’t much better when it comes to destruction. He says Ares is the most hateful of all gods and loves bloodshed. He says he would have gotten rid of him if he weren’t his son, but seeing as he was, Zeus cannot bear to see Ares in pain. He then gets Ares healed.

I can definitely see how this kind of blatant favouritism from someone who should be better to Ares would affect him. Ares is the firstborn son of Zeus and Hera. He should be getting a lot of respect, as per ancient standards but instead, he is overtaken by his virgin half sister from Zeus’ previous marriage, and many bastard half siblings.

Athena being able to break rules left and right, and Ares having to be nervous about even toeing the line will cause distance between them.

This in addition to his position as a god of civil order is a reason that i think he wouldn’t want to break any rule until he deems it absolutely necessary, like if someone he cared about were in danger.

I can totally see a situation where both of them try to help a hero but Zeus orders them not to. Athena then wants to break the rules, but Ares is very hesitant about doing so. Athena convinces him, either by taunting or by calmly urging him, to go along with it. They get caught but only Ares gets punished. Ares can then truly show Athena the difference between her and everyone else.

Remember when i headcanoned earlier that Athena sends Ares away during the Rebellion? That ties into this. She knows that if they get caught, ares could get into trouble whether or not he did anything. I expect Ares will be furious about it when he returns and finds out what happened though, thinking it was just to get him out of the way, until its revealed why she did it. Then he’ll probably be super awkward.

2) Poseidon

The equal and opposite force to Zeus.

Well, maybe not equal, but quite close.

Lets start with the canon. Poseidon HATES Athena, despises her completely, and he frequently clashes with her father too. They worked together one (1) time and as a result, Athena wasnt punished while Poseidon was enslaved for years. Then there is the fight for Athens, the whole epic of the Odyssey, and so on.

Meanwhile he and Ares are actually shown to be close. Other than the Halirhothius incident, they are pretty chill. Poseidon is the one who vouched for him after the Net Thing With Hephaestus. Poseidon is also pretty cool with Aphrodite and they work together occasionally.

I think Poseidon thinks of Athena as this bratty kid of his brother, who is constantly working against him. You know that one annoying cousin you have who you try to avoid during family reunions because you KNOW you will clash? This is that, but a thousand times worse.

Meanwhile Poseidon really cares for Ares, and Ares takes fatherly affection from anywhere he can get it. Poseidon maintains a good relationship with both Aphrodite and Ares. He is closer with Aphrodite and doesnt love Ares quite as much as Zeus loves Athena, but he still cares a lot.

3) Aphrodite

It is no secret that Athena hates Aphrodite. Even when Athena warns Diomedes not to harm any god, she says Aphrodite is the exception. Athena, along with many of the other Olympians, see her as nothing but a silly, flighty, hysterical goddess.

On the other hand, Aphrodite and Ares are known for their intense love for each other, from even before her arranged marriage. They have a lot of kids together, and are shown to be close with all of them. They each have like one story of jealousy/one story where they are at odds with each other, which is pretty good for such a high-profile couple (Aphrodite curses Eos and Ares kills Adonis). They are there for each other, like in the trojan war, when Aphrodite was wounded and Ares gave her his chariot to go back to Olympus. He also changed sides very soon, just because Aphrodite asked. Athena complains about this too.

I think I wouldn’t be far off in saying that Athena is definitely resentful of how close they are, and how much sway Aphrodite has over her brother.

While Athena definitely doesn’t see eye to eye with Ares, and disagrees with his domain, she still sees him as a War God. One of her kind. And she just doesn’t see how a War God can go for someone like Aphrodite. Basically, she doesn’t think Aphrodite is, for lack of a better term, good enough for Ares, seeing as she is a Love Goddess.

Ares, on the other hand, does not want to hear anything like this. He is fiercely defensive of Aphrodite. He defends her warlike aspect (Aphrodite Areia), while everyone else tells her that she has no place in the battlefield. He sees Aphrodite as more than what people have labelled her to be. Which is why I believe (other than Eos and Adonis), they have one of the healthiest open relationships in greek mythology.

This can definitely cause animosity between Athena and Ares, because of Athena’s scorn and Ares’ temper. It can also increase the conflict between Athena and Aphrodite.

Maybe as time goes on, Athena can start seeing Aphrodite as having more depth. I certainly hope so. While they wouldn’t be best friends, I don’t see why they can’t learn to get along. This could also strengthen Athena and Ares’ bond. As long as people don’t insult her or lay their claim on her domain of Love and Beauty, Aphrodite is often very supportive. I truly think Aphrodite can help Athena overcome her misogyny, with Ares.

In conclusion, Athena and Ares have a very complex relationship. They do not simply hate each other, and neither do they have the most loving relationship. But they do care for each other. But strain can often be put on their relationship from their relationship to other people as well. Hopefully as time passes, they can overcome that, and have a healthier relationship, instead of sharing a good moment and then proceeding to fight each other for the next 500 years.

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vasiktomis · 3 years

Text

Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

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“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

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The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”

#far cry 5 #john seed #cora stammos #far cry 5 fanfic #far cry 5 oc #john seed x female deputy #all hail cora's big fucking muscles #no beta we die like men

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calpops · 4 years

Text

family | c.h.

A plan for dinner in which your parents are to meet Calum for the first time doesn’t go as expected but it shows you who your true family is.

1.3k words

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You stand with a heavy heart, patience running thin and hope shattering on the kitchen floor where you had prepared a dinner you hoped to share with Calum and your parents. Calum is beside you, his arm around your waist and understanding in his eyes. He knew of your rocky relationship with your parents and the troubles it could arise but he had yet to meet them. Tonight is supposed to be that night. You shift, head shaking and eyes burning.

“Are you sure you told them the right time?” Calum asks, trying to stay optimistic so you don’t crumble any further. His hand squeezes your waist to remind you he’s there even if they aren’t.

“I think so,” you say around a tight sigh and fish into your pocket for your phone. “I called them last night. They sounded like they wanted to come. They promised.”

Your parents aren’t prone to making promises and just the word was enough to elicit false hope into you. No messages light up your screen as you glance down at your phone.

“Maybe... your parents don’t like me?” Calum questions and tries to make it a joke, tries to make his tone light and take the burden off your shoulders.

“They don’t even know you,” you reply, suddenly resigned and defeated. You know waiting for them will be excruciating. Standing around in the kitchen with the cooling food as a reminder of their tardiness isn’t going to help. You busy yourself with wrapping the dishes to put in the fridge.

“What are you doing?” Calum’s voice comes from behind you as you slide a salad in.

“It’s gonna get gross if it stays out much longer. I’ll just put it away while we wait.”

Your tone verges on desperation and Calum senses it immediately. He sees the shine of your eyes and the way your hands clench around the handle of the fridge.

“We can wait,” Calum reassures, lightly rubs the small of your back to calm you down and helps put away the rest with you before heading to the living room couch.

Duke joins you, curls up on your lap as a comfort mechanism—able to sense your distress and sadness without even understanding why—Calum sits beside you, tries at small talk while time ticks by. It’s an hour past the time they said they’d be here. Your hope is all but decimated when you check your phone one last time and come up empty. You feel as if you shouldn’t be surprised. This is nothing new; they missed birthdays and graduations and everything in between, but for some reason—perhaps a reason that shines with diamonds, an opal and your entire future—you thought it might be different this time.

“They’re not coming,” you realize just seconds before a call lights up your phone and hope comes back to taunt you. You answer with a timid greeting. Crack out an ‘okay’ when the hope goes back to shards and hang up the phone with tears on your cheeks. “They’re not. They said they have some stuff at home. Some-something about a…”

You can’t even finish their lame excuse before a sob slips through and you hide your face in your hands. Calum’s arms wind around you without hesitation, he pulls you into his chest, hands falling from your face in favor of hiding against him. His hands stroke through your hair, down your back, up and down again and again until another sob breaks and you start to shake.

“Sweetheart,” he says and it’s more than you could have thought to say if the roles were reversed. His voice is soft and sincere when he continues. “I’ve got you.”

You know what he means when he says that. Your parents aren’t here for you, they never really have been, but he is and the ring on your finger is a promise that he always will be. You try to collect yourself and stop a sob in its attempt to escape you. Instead a hiccup comes out and you hear Calum’s little huff of a giggle; he’s always said your hiccups are adorable.

“I feel stupid,” you admit and wonder if Calum can even understand you through the muffle and shake of your voice. He does. He always does.

“It’s not your fault,” he reminds but you shake your head.

“I should know better by now. They do this all the time,” you begin, finally finding some voice for the aching thoughts plaguing you. You still won’t pull away from him, too content to bask in his comfort, unsure you can look him in the eye when tears still slide from yours. “They don’t even want to meet the man I’m going to marry before I marry him. They probably won’t come to the engagement party. It’d be a miracle if they show up to the wedding. They just don’t care. Family isn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Family is complicated,” Calum says but you don’t want any attempts at justifications, whether either of you believe them or not. You just want a family that cares.

“I should be used to it by now—I just don’t have a family, not really.”

“You do,”‘ Calum insists and doesn’t let you hide anymore, his hands cup your jaw and gently coax you to look at him. “You have me and my parents and Mali and the guys and all of our friends. We are here for you. We love you.”

You nod, unable to find words to express the thoughts now finding you. He’s right. He has been there for you since the day you met. His parents took to you the moment you were introduced to them and Mali even before that, she texted you and called you well before an in person meeting. The guys welcomed you with open arms and thanked you for making Calum happy. They are his family and made you a part of it. The friends you made in adulthood had become like siblings. You might be missing some pieces but there are other people to fill in the gaps and make you feel whole.

“I love you,” you finally manage to get out, wipe your eyes and sniffle.

“And someday”—Calum says, thumb brushing away tears you missed—“we’ll have a family of our own.”

You let out a breath, a smile trudging through the sadness at his words that kick up ripples of warmth from the inside out. You nod, this time with happiness and a yearning for that future. For that family.

“We will,” you say, sure about that. “I’ll never be like my parents.”

“I know,” Calum responds with just as much certainty and a smirk growing on his face. “How many kids do you want?”

You tilt your head to the side. “At least two. So they can always have a friend.”

Calum laughs and nods in agreement. “Two is good. D’you have any names picked out yet?”

You bite your lip and dart your eyes up to the ceiling. The way he knows that you do and is waiting to hear them makes you know the ring on your finger and all of the promises it comes with are meant to be. Your lip springs free and you grin.

“I have some thoughts,” you admit but want to keep them secret until the time is right.

Calum talks to you about the future. You both get lost in a world yet to come. Make plans that won’t happen for years to come but you would bet with your whole heart and soul will happen eventually. Calum wouldn’t lie to you. Calum wouldn’t string you along and break your heart. He’s your family now.

<< >>

If you’d like to be added to my tag list just let me know!

Based on the dates with cal engagement prompt: your family doesn’t like me? And @outerspaceisbetterthannothing message of: They plan on finally meeting her parents. She’s very nervous and the very last moment her parents ditch them, saying they won’t be able to come because of some shit and that it’s not so important anyway, they’re sure Cal is a nice guy and they’ll meet him at the wedding. And she’s really upset and Cal tries to reassure her when he sees her tears, saying he is her family now and she has his parents and his sister and all of the boys. That’s her family, she’s not alone.

Tagged: @rosecolouredash @irwinkitten @golden-hood @who-do-you-love-5sos @caswinchester2000 @wildflowergrae @empathycth @cuddlemecalx @malumsmermaid @babylon-corgis @outerspaceisbetterthannothing @mariellelovescupcakes @xhaileyreneex @goth5sos @gosh-im-short @feliznavidaddycal @loveroflrh @findingliam-o @flowerthug @g-l-pierce @talkfastromance4 @superbloomirwin @wastedheartcth @calumscalm @notinthesameguey @lukesfuckingbeard @myloverboyash @treatallwithkindness @haikucal @wiildflower-xxx @calum-uncrowned @egyptiangoldhood @drarryetcetera @another-lonely-heart @megz1985 @idk-harry @dinosaursandsocks @wildflower-cth @idontneedanyone @everyscarisahealingplace @myfavfanficsever @stormrider505 @karajaynetoday @333-xx @calumshpod @calumsphile @calumrose @justhereforcalum @grreatgooglymoogly @calumance @mantlereid @hemmingslftv

#Calum hood blurb #Calum hood imagine #Calum hood x you #calum hood x reader #5sos imagine #5sos blurb #5sos x you #5sos x reader #Calum hood angst #5sos angst #cal!dates #cal!engagement

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frayededges · 2 years

Text

NOT THE USUAL QUESTIONS ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

tagged by : @khozmoh

tagging : @thumperking , @playvillain , @loneewolfe (im on the wrong blog to tag you in this. idc) AND VIEWERS LIKE YOU!

What are their 5 most recent google searches?

‘how famous do you have to be to get on raya’

‘how late is in-n-out open’

‘kareoke spelling’

‘long haired cow’

‘definition of unscrupulous’

What is their love language?

physical touch and quality time

When they're overwhelmed / upset, what do they do to calm themselves? what could someone else do to calm them?

usually, alice will try and go skateboarding or go for a run. that’s if she’s the kind of upset where she knows how to cope. alternatively she’ll get some kind of comfort food and watch a movie. if she’s not in that headspace she’s going to isolate herself and push her friends away. if she’s having an anxiety attack or any more serious feelings, the best thing you can do for alice is to sit quietly with her and just be there with her and take care of her. touching her can either go really well or really badly.

List 5-10 songs that remind you of your muse!

drown - bmth (but specifically the seafret cover)

so fast. so maybe - k.flay

defying gravity - wicked broadway cast

requiem ( solo version ) - dear evan hansen cast

house on a hill - the pretty reckless

she’s so gone - lemonade mouth cast

How does your muse handle emotions? what does it take to get your muse to cry? what are they like when they’re angry?

alice’s emotions can be pretty volatile. she rotates through emotions quickly so for the most part she handles general emotional shifts pretty well. she’ll cry when she’s really angry or really upset. she doesn’t cry easily but she doesn’t NOT cry.

when she’s angry alice can be pretty mean and harsh. she’ll swear and verbally lash out. the only thing she won’t do is physically lash out at someone if they’re important to her. she MIGHT physically lash out if it’s someone purposefully trying to hurt her, but it’s hard to get her to go that far. she’s more than willing to be hurtful verbally.

Does your muse cuss? do they do it a lot? what usually makes them cuss?

absolutely, alice is a frequent user of the word fuck. she will curse in any circumstance, but usually it’s anger or sadness.

How does your muse handle distressing and/or overwhelming situations?

she tries to find a distraction, anything she can do to not feel whatever feelings arise. she tends to pick at her callouses or her fingernails. alice has been known to physically run away when she cannot handle being in a situation. this has mostly decreased as she’s gotten older, but she definitely does have the urge to run still.

How does your muse handle blame/guilt? do they avoid it? find something/someone else to blame?

not well, bestie. she internalizes it. everything is her fault and if it can’t be her fault she picks the next person who could possibly be at fault.

What are the last 5 texts they sent and who are they to?

“this is going to be the only thing you hear about from me all week” ( sent to stiles)

“if i get into trouble you’ll know” ( sent to argent )

“whoever ate the last cookie will face my wrath” ( groupchat with isaac and charlie )

“who wants to see a cute dog!” ( groupchat with the pack )

“i am going to bite you next time.” ( sent to liam )

What’s their usual body temperature? are they always hot/cold? do they easily become one of these?

alice is on the colder side but she hates to admit it. she’s always a little bit too cold, but not by much. she will steal people’s jackets or sweatshirts rather than bring her own in the eventuality that she does become cold.

Do they still watch cartoons? if so, what are their favorites?

not really, alice watched what her brothers and sister watched growing up, but she doesn’t keep up to date with cartoons much as an adult. she likes some animated movies like hercules, tangled and into the spider-verse, but she doesn’t watch cartoons that play on tv.

What are some vocal headcanons you have? do they have a stutter? a vocal tic? do they stumble over their words or use a lot of ‘uh’s and ‘um’s? do they have a word they like to say a lot?

alice’s voice is feminine and somewhat high (not shrill and certainly not up there in register but it’s not monotone). she uses uh or um a lot when she’s thinking or not sure what to say. she tends to pause or overthink what she’s already said after the fact because she doesn’t usually think before she speaks. alice would be a soprano if she ever got trained as a singer (because she does enjoy singing). in most verses, alice does pursue some singing lessons in college just for the fun of it.

How do they usually greet people ( people they know , don’t know .etc )?

a nod or a smile usually serves for people she doesn’t know, maybe a wave but it’s awkward and she really just tries not to overthink it. people she knows are more likely to get a joke or a hug.

How does your muse react to affection? do they like it or not? are they touch starved? what is their favorite form of physical affection?

alice is a pretty openly affectionate person so when it comes to affection from others she’s likely to reciprocate it. she does like affection in general whether it be hugs, hand holding, high fives, she’s very tactile. i don’t think alice gets touch starved often unless she is depriving herself of affection whether it’s on purpose or by accident during a depressive episode.

Is there somebody they haven’t been able to forgive? What did they do? Do they want to forgive them?

alice will never forgive her father. she remembers a time before he was abusive towards her and her siblings, but those memories are tainted. she tries to ignore the looming shadow of what was to come when she looks back on her time with her mom and camden, but it’s hard. she doesn’t want to forgive her father and she doesn’t have to. he’s dead and that’s enough for her.

Do they pick wildflowers?

sometimes, she likes daisies.

How does your muse handle bad people? are they a fighter? do they avoid conflict?

alice tends to be on the spectrum from slightly snarky to outright combative with bad people. she can be reigned in though, and she can act with tact when it comes to it.

When does your muse ask for help? ( when things get bad , before they get bad .etc )?

only when she absolutely has to, she’ll accept help if it’s offered to her though.

What are some trinkets your muse has?

alice doesn’t keep a lot of trinkets honestly, she just doesn’t need the excess. she has some seashells or even maybe crystals. she does like magnets though and gets a new one when she goes somewhere new.

On a road trip, are they the driver, the DJ in the passenger seat, or one of the people eating snacks and huddled under the bags in the back?

either the dj or she’s in the back with the snacks. alice can drive and she will if she must, but she’d much rather be in a passenger position.

Is your muse open about their struggles or do they bottle everything up? why?

depends on who’s asking. alice can be convinced to open up if someone she really trusts is the one she’s talking to. more likely though, you’ll get glimpses of what she’s going through or what she has gone through and she’ll close herself off just as quickly as she opened up. she’s just not trusting like that, she longs to share things with people but she doesn’t want to be hurt or to feel like she’s burdening anyone else.

List some things that remind you of your muse! ( the forest , books , rain .etc )

- converse shoes

- white metal bed frames

- thunderstorms

- skateboarding

- leather jackets

Do they sleep in normal clothes or pajamas? To what degree are they clothed?

alice has been known to fall asleep in whatever she’s wearing. that being said, she usually tries to sleep in shorts and a t-shirt or, if its truly hot out and she’s certain no one’s gonna interrupt her, in her underwear.

Do they have a sensitive spot/s?

alice’s scars on her back are pretty sensitive, she doesn’t exactly shy away from people touching them but she does notice it more. the area from the back of her neck and down to her collarbone is also pretty sensitive.

Where is their favorite place to be kissed?

the forehead/temple. whether platonic or romantic, it’s such a truly gentle action that means someone really cares.

Does your muse ever want kids? if so, how many and would they adopt? if not, why?

alice is about 85% sure she wants kids one day. she thinks she’d be a pretty good and cool mom. whether said kids are biological or adopted she doesn’t care. i think unless she was really serious with a partner, alice would lean more heavily towards adopting teenagers who’d grown up in abusive households like she did.

What type of tiktoks do they watch?

art videos, pet videos, story-time style content. alice is also on kinktok.

How much does your muse care? would they die for the ones they love?

alice cares a lot about the people she is close to and probably more than average about people she isn’t close with. without hesitation she would die for the pack.

Does your muse know how to cook? are they good or bad?

alice knows how to cook in theory. she can make pretty basic meals that keep her alive and healthy. that being said, food she cooks is edible, it’s not good.

Is your muse good at taking care of themselves? or do they need constant reminders to eat/drink/rest?

she’s okay at it, she definitely gets better once she starts setting reminders for herself. this does however lead to alice operating on a pretty weird schedule since she can’t depend on herself to eat or sleep on her her own. the reminders started just with reminders to take her meds, and then when she left high school it progressed to reminders when exactly to leave for class or a reminder to start thinking about lunch or dinner after a certain time.

#the lone wolf dies . . . [ META & COMMENTARY ]*#lies of omission . . . [ DASH GAMES ]*

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shekorla · 4 years

Text

Linked Universe Zeldas

So last December I decided to draw my idea for the Zeldas on a whim. Found the WIP recently and decided to finish it.

Also, I typed up all my headcanons for them because I have a lot. They are below the cut.

And I put down nickname ideas, because I'm bad at naming things, and I think the LU discord has already decided on a set of nicknames that they like. Personally, I really dislike most of those though.

❖Corresponding Link: Four

o Age: Teen, just older than Four. Not a major difference, just enough that she can tease him about it.

o Status: Officially still holds the title of princess, acts more like a queen. Her father is extremely protective of her, but after Vaati he conceded that he couldn’t protect her forever. Since then she has been learning to fight, forge (not good at it), and taking over more and more responsibilities from her aging father

o Nickname ideas: Light, Picori, Force

o Fighting style: Mostly fights with a sword and shield. Has extremely strong innate light magic. (light force, although weaker now) Doesn’t necessarily know how to focus it yet (magic bomb, some healing). If you are going to be on the battlefield stop running around like that.

o Current relationship to Link: Best friends, practically siblings. When they were kids there was definitely some major crushing going on. Then everything with Vaati happened and things got… complicated. Neither she nor Link really knows what type of romance they want for the future. They still play lots of pranks on people. She helps keep him stable on the days when his colors get a little too wild.

o Random stuff: Hyperactive and cheery. Always something new to see or learn and she wants to do it. hates sitting still, she is always moving somehow (got turned to stone). Top is hers; Link made the sword (gift), rest is extras from four’s parts (stolen). Hair is naturally extremely curly, lets it down for formal things, tied up for adventuring. Helped four get back to functioning as Link after being four people. Will attack him to get him to take care of himself. Is taller than both four and wind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

❖ Corresponding Link: Hyrule

o Age: At least a hundred. Was 18 when she was cursed to sleep, no one is exactly sure how long she was asleep.

o Status: Was a princess before falling asleep, offered the crown once woken up. Really over being royal. Link helped her get a job and lodging on a farm at the edge of Hyrule. Really likes that.

o Nickname ideas: Legacy, Farmgirl, First, Ancestor.

o Fighting style: Healer. Lots of bandages to patch everyone up. Doesn’t like to fight, but will stab a man if the need arises. The world is cruel, be kind. Has weak magic, a little bit of healing, and lots of prophetic. Knows the best places to hide on a battlefield.

o Current relationship to Link: They are good friends. He checks up on her from time to time, and she makes sure that he always has a place to rest and relax in safety. Their world is a little bit of a mess, everyone needs a support system.

o Random stuff: Has insomnia. Afraid of not waking up. Extremely wise, or maybe just world-weary. On tense but good terms with current queen Zelda of Hyrule. Forgives her brother, has come to terms with her fate. Taciturn and calm, probably depressed. Extremely sensitive to dark magic. (like an old burn wound) Dislikes people who use it to forcefully get their way. Doesn’t outright hate the principle of it, but will actively shy away from the presence of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

❖ Corresponding Link: Time

o Age: Adult, mentally/physically the same age.

o Status: Queen of Hyrule. She is married and has a daughter.

o Nickname ideas: Destiny, Sheik, Queen, Lyre/Harp (what is that thing?), Sage.

o Fighting style: Fights mostly with magic. Uses the harp to play songs (ironically fights like HW sheik) has basic sheikah skills. Has only been training to fight for a short time, is still fairly physically weak. One of the most proficient magic users all round. Can take down the basic mooks, but won't last long against a bigger enemy. Knows how to fight alone.

o Current relationship to Link: Strained. Not OOT sheik. Is MM Zelda. Only knows link as the boy who showed up to save the day, then left. Has had occasional interactions, she visits the ranch, he works with the guard. Only in the past year or two, she has had dream glimpses of the alternate timeline. She knows that she and link killed Ganon side by side, that she helped link disguised as sheik. Does not know about the seven years or most of the trauma. Basically, seen like five cutscenes and nothing else.

o Random stuff: Prophetic dreams. Knew she would be leaving on a quest. Kingdom is well set up to work in her absence. Loves her family, is an idiot who doesn’t know the importance of checking in via letters for anything other than politics. Snobbish, proud, put too much stock in titles. Best manager, not a great leader (doesn’t have the personal skills for it). Sees the world as extremely black and white.

❖ Corresponding Link: Twilight

o Age: Young adult.

o Status: Newly coronated queen, has been running the show for a few years now, it's just barely official

o Nickname ideas: Dusk, Dawn, Shadow

o Fighting style: Uses mainly rapier to fight. Also, a great archer. Because of temporarily sharing a soul with Midna, has access to powerful twilight magic. Not as strong as Midna, still strong. Has goddess magic (channel through weapons). Tries to hide twili powers mostly since it's “dark magic”, but only technically. She knows it's not true dark magic and really just wants to avoid a lecture (does not get along well with time’s Zelda). Knows her way around the edge of a battlefield.

o Current relationship to Link: They barely know each other. Only really interacted through saving the world things. Then they went separate ways. She considers Midna a sister and wants to slap both Midna and Link for not realizing they like each other. Once she knows Link better, she will probably tease him a lot.

o Random stuff: Unlike most of the other Zeldas, sees the world as being mostly shades of grey, rather than stark black and white. Somber and stoic. Secretly a massive gremlin. Has a few habits picked up from Midna's soul along with the magic. Is awkward around ‘normal’ people. Has spent almost her entire life in political settings. One of the best politicians. Rather open about her feelings, it's just small and easily missed. Feels guilty for the troubles that befell both Hyrule and the twilight realm. Hates having to stand back unable to help. Screw rules she is going to help.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

❖ Corresponding Link: Wild

o Age: 118-120ish(?) I don’t know how long it has been since the events of BOTW.

o Status: Technically queen, currently is focused on rebuilding Hyrule. Has no intention to take up the throne any time soon.

o Nickname ideas: Scholar, Architect, Champion, Urbosa, Scientist, Little Bird.

o Fighting style: Not a great fighter but she is learning. Decent with a sword. Gets a crossbow from twilight and then makes her own out of sheikah tech. (currently has no magic and good riddance). Learning to navigate a battlefield.

o Current relationship to Link: They are good friends, but it's awkward. Neither of them are totally sure how to act around the other. Basically, either gremlin adventures, or awkward small talk. Past the first road trip, only interact a few times a month. She is caught between trying to mourn her knight and accepting her new hero. Cooking shenanigans.

o Random stuff: Loves learning new things. Can and will study and find the effects of every plant. Knows poisons, antidotes, elixirs, potions, and everything else. Still trying to come to terms with everything that happened. Frequent nightmares. Claustrophobic/minor insomnia. Knows all the languages. Loves studying sheikah tech, and finally gets the chance to as much as she wants. Hates the castle. So many things change culturally over 100 years and she has no idea what to do. Awkward, but sincere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

❖ Corresponding Link: Wind

o Age: Teen

o Status: Technically the queen. Hyrule currently consists of a single town on the mainland, and lots of plans. Queenish. Anjean is teaching her how to politics.

o Nickname ideas: Name is tetra that’s it.

o Fighting style: Uses a pirate saber as well as the phantom sword. (IDK if spirit tracks is part of Wind’s story, but I was not passing up the opportunity to give tetra a massive sword). Decent archer, and can channel light magic into weapons…. most of the time…... It’s a work in progress. Also has general goddess magic. Big explosion of light. Knows her way around a battlefield

o Current relationship to Link: Serve on a crew together. Best friends and partners in crime. There is a lot that needs to be done to start a country, they will do it together. It’s not going quickly. They keep getting distracted. Why do paperwork when you can steal things.

o Random stuff: Smol. Link hit puberty and got a growth spurt. She did not. Not a politician, this child should not be in charge, whose idea was it to let a pirate child run a country. Great leader. All the social skills. Shoot first… that’s it. Sassy. Trying her best to be a good princess and live up to her lineage. It's hard. There is no book. Feels like she is letting everyone down. Hates big birds. Occasional nightmares. Really hates being cold. (turned to stone)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

❖ Corresponding Link: Legend

o Age: Older teen

o Status: Queen. Has ruled for a while. Amazing support system. They regularly keep things running when she gets kidnapped. Good relations with all surrounding countries.

o Nickname ideas: Maiden, Sage, Hilda.

o Fighting style: Doesn’t. Pacifist. She can attack with light magic, chooses not to. Healing magic, team buffs, defense. Just because she doesn’t fight doesn’t mean she will let her team die. Strongest support magic. Does not know her way around a battlefield.

o Current relationship to Link: Good work friends. They get along well enough. No massive personal relations. She asks him for help with killing monsters, he asks her for help with laws. It works for them. Occasionally they will get lunch together and catch up. (aka make sure he didn’t get himself killed.) Can use telepathy to contact Link at any time. Keeps it to emergencies only. Because he finds it massively annoying, and a little creepy.

o Random stuff: Massive romantic. Currently single. Misses being able to gossip with Hilda. Kind and compassionate. Does not stand for injustice. Will forgive until the end of time. Just because she is kind does not mean she is weak. Strong-willed. Good politician. Loved by her people, even if Ganon has attacked like five times. Ganon is the only person on the list of people she would happily shank. So much paperwork. Give the girl a break. Keeps craft supplies on her for long imprisonments. Scrying magic, and a little bit prophetic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

❖ Corresponding Link: Warriors

o Age: Adult. Older than warriors, younger than time or his Zelda.

o Status: Queen of Hyrule, and commander of its army. Her Hyrule has been in turmoil for a while even before the war with Cia.

o Nickname ideas: General, Commander, Tactician.

o Fighting style: Best fighter. Can use all the weapons. Summon a bow or rapier of pure light magic. Strongest understanding of how the goddess magic works with weapons. Mostly fights as Zelda (basically her gameplay style), still uses her sheik disguise sometimes (ironically fights similar to smash bros sheik because of extensive sheikah training.) Lives on the battlefield.

o Current relationship to Link: They work seamlessly together in battle and are friends outside of it. They haven't actually known each other very long so it's awkward sometimes. She still has to occasionally remind him that she doesn’t need a title. If they were two kids in a village then they would probably date. But they are not, and things are complicated. Duty to the kingdom comes first.

o Random stuff: Best makeup. Amazing, if ruthless, politician. Best historian. Blunt. No time for crap. One of the best leaders doesn’t have the pure charisma to outdo warriors though. Resting B Face. 90% of soldiers are scared of her. Comes across as harsh, rude, cold. Really, she is just a bit awkward and hides behind a mask. Can’t do people, can do basically anything else. Minor prophetic magic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

❖ Corresponding Link: Sky

o Age: Old teen/young adult. Older than Sky.

o Status: Technically the queen, but Hyrule hasn’t been founded yet. Officially goddess Hylia reincarnated. She doesn’t go around flaunting the title, but sometimes the memories of Hylia she gained will overwhelm her. Full goddess mode. Doesn’t stand for dark magic.

o Nickname ideas: Hylia, Sun, Swallow.

o Fighting style: trained at the academy and knows how to fight with a sword. Not a good fighter. massive bursts of power usually win her fights. Sometimes she can channel a little bit of her power, but usually, she just gets overwhelmed by all of it. General goddess magic, cannot channel through weapons. Thinks she does, but in fact, does not know her way around a battlefield

o Current relationship to Link: Do I need to explain? These two are head over heels. Sappy love birds all the way. Childhood friends. Everyone is surprised they're not engaged yet.

o Random stuff: More adventure-ready style to reflect working on founding Hyrule. Fierce and determined. Kind. But she will get her way. Struggles to balance her mortality and newfound divinity. Feels bad that Sky had to fight for her. Loves her bird. Beautiful singing voice. She is trying her best but is in fact very bad at being an adventurer. Good at sewing. Loads of people skills, working on leadership skills. Best with children. 6th sense type prophetic magic. (aka see a shot before it is taken, but not a coming calamity.)

That's it. Congrats on making it to the end. You get a cookie. 🍪

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #legend of zelda #princess zelda #zelda #loz #LoZ Fanart #long post #headcanons #my art #shekorla #sorry discord #yall are great #dont like almost all of the nicknames

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hysterialevi · 3 years

Text

Hjarta | Chapter 4

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

THE NEXT MORNING

BJORNHEIMR, THE LONGHOUSE

“...His eyes burned bright with the heat of Muspelheim itself...” Eivor whispered in fascination, repeating the seeress’ prediction under his breath. At the moment, he was lying in bed after waking up from a long night of vivid dreams and visions, mindlessly tracing a series of words in the air above him as he conjured a poem about his new friend.

“I wish you could’ve met him, father.” He thought aloud. “He was... unlike any other man I’ve ever laid eyes upon. A warrior’s hugr entrapped within the shell of a human, kindled by the heart of a benevolent spirit. His unyielding gaze holding you in place as the songs of those long lost flutter from his lips. A man who seems to be from this world, and yet, beholds it with the look of an outsider.”

Eivor rolled onto his side, staring at the charms sitting beside his bed as his hair spread out underneath him like a fan made of flaxen twine.

“...Was Sigurd the man Ingrida saw in her dream? He must have been. He matched her words exactly. But... how does the wolf fit into all this? Who does the beast represent? Who would try to harm him? And why?”

Part of Eivor suspected it could’ve even been himself that the seeress’ vision was trying to convey, considering his rather violent past with wolves, but... surely that couldn’t be right. Sigurd was to live among them as an ally in the future. What reason would he have to go against him?

...No. It must’ve been someone else. Kjotve possibly? Or his son, Gorm? Eivor wasn’t sure anymore. And frankly, he didn’t want to think about it.

So much was already clouding his mind with thoughts of impending war and death. Many of their people had fallen to Kjotve’s axe in the past decade, and he only hoped that this marriage would be the key to finally wiping him off the face of the earth. To think that Ingrida’s warning could become a reality... it was a concern that Eivor wished to push aside for the moment.

He had enough to worry about aside from the seeress’ visions, and he didn’t want to lend them anymore merit.

Tearing himself away from the bed’s soft embrace, Eivor finally decided to carry on with his day and slipped out from underneath the layers of pelts piled on top of him, reaching for his boots.

His eyelids sagged with a heavy sense of fatigue due to the restless night he had to endure, and he felt his body being weighed down by a strong desire to return to sleep. Despite his lack of energy however, Eivor couldn’t deny that he was curious to see whether or not he’d bump into Sigurd again.

The man seemed to operate on a tight schedule filled to the brim with royal duties, but Eivor was secretly hoping that he’d be able to catch him in between. He may have been restraining himself from taking things any further with Sigurd, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to spend more time with him.

He just hoped he wouldn’t come across as clingy. He already found himself feeling more attached to the prince than what was probably wise, and he didn’t even know if the man returned his affections. Sigurd claimed that he would’ve liked to see Eivor again, but even then, the younger man wanted to maintain a reasonable amount of distance between them.

The wedding was less than two weeks away, after all. If any of their plans happened to deteriorate before then, Eivor wasn’t sure they’d have any time to recuperate. Kjotve’s longships still threatened the borders of their seas despite their brewing alliance, and any distractions would’ve simply given them the opening they needed.

Eivor had to stay focused for both his sister and his clan. His current responsibilities consisted of nothing more than providing a reliable axe should the need for war arise, and he didn’t see that changing anytime soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

Stepping away from the limits of the longhouse, Eivor slowly made his way to the top of the hill that he frequented so often as Synin followed him from the skies above, accompanying him with no more than a distant shadow that slithered across the ground.

The morning air was crisp with a frigid breeze that pinched Eivor’s skin and reinforced the snow on Bjornheimr’s meadows, covering the land in a scintillating sea of white.

Meanwhile, the sun stood proudly above the sleepy village and combatted the arctic environment with a gentle summer’s kiss, thawing the many icicles that dangled from the longhouse’s roof ever so slightly.

As for Eivor, the young man trekked through the icy weather with little to no issue thanks to his fur cloak and climbed the hill’s gradual incline, adapting quickly to its uneven terrain.

He may have been tired, but the frosty sensation of the morning’s touch managed to revitalize his mind, and stimulate him with a chilled gust. It reawakened the parts of his brain that stayed enveloped in a deep slumber, and filled his lungs with a piercing breath of fresh air that caused him to sigh in contentment.

What awaited him at the top of the hill however, surprised him more than anything else.

Sitting alone on the very same bench from the previous night, Eivor spotted Sigurd admiring the angelic daybreak in front of him as loose strands of his hair billowed softly in the breeze, dancing in unison with the fur on his cloak.

His staunch figure had darkened into a silhouette due to the sun’s contrasting light, and his head remained bowed beneath his broad shoulders in a serene manner.

He appeared to be completely at peace despite the gravity of his purpose in Bjornheimr, and basked in the golden rays that peeked over the horizon. He was completely motionless in the fjord’s presence, but seemed to travel freely with the stretches of his imagination.

Though, Eivor could only wonder whether Sigurd was here for the view, or for the man himself.

“Hello, Gunnar.” The younger man teased, making the prince throw a glance over his shoulder.

Sigurd’s expression instantly brightened at the sight of his new friend, and a light chuckle escaped his mouth. “Ah, hello, Eivor. It’s good to see you again.”

Eivor strolled towards the bench, gesturing to the nature in front of them.

“Come to enjoy the view?”

“Indeed,” Sigurd said, rising from his seat. “I just finished making an offering to Njord at your temple for our safe journey, and wished to see what it looked like during the day. I have to say, it’s just as beautiful as when you brought me here last night.”

Eivor leaned against a tree, crossing his arms in a casual fashion. “You stopped by the temple? Did you meet our seeress?”

Sigurd nodded. “Ingrida approached me, yes. She’s... enthralling, that woman. I have to admit, I’m not sure what to make of her yet. When she first reached out to me, she seemed... hesitant. Frightened, almost. A strange sense of recognition held onto her gaze, and she spoke as if she knew me. As if... she had seen me before.”

The younger man withheld his knowledge about Ingrida’s vision, uncertain of how Sigurd would react to it. “Is that so? What did she say?”

“Ingrida referred to me as ‘the one who walked with Tyr.’ She mentioned a wolf similar to Fenrir, and even brought up something about Freya’s collapse. I’m not entirely sure what she meant by those statements, but her wariness was quite plain.”

Eivor shrugged in confusion. “I’m afraid I’m as clueless as you are, but you’ll have to forgive her. Ingrida can be rather paranoid sometimes. Try not to take it personally.”

Sigurd furrowed his brow. “I’m more concerned than I am offended. Even though I’m aware that many people will dismiss seeresses these days, their instincts tend to be accurate. It just makes me wonder what the gods revealed to Ingrida to make her so cautious around me.”

“Well, you are a prince. Trouble has a habit of following royalty even if they don’t intend it.”

Sigurd let out a sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”

The older man suddenly paused, giving his friend a tentative look as another subject crossed his mind. “I-I hope I’m not intruding on your daily routine, by the way. I know you come to this hill for solitude.”

Eivor shook his head, reassuring Sigurd with a welcoming smile. “You’re free to spend as much time here as you please. In fact, I’m happy to run into you again. Figuratively speaking, of course.”

Sigurd laughed. “Likewise.”

“How did things go with your father, anyway? When you returned to him, I mean.”

The prince waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, about as well as you’d expect. He berated me for being improper and ‘making a fool of myself’ on our first day here. He quickly shooed me away from the feast and told me to find a change of clothes before getting anywhere near Randvi again. Overall though, he wasn’t as harsh as I expected. I think it’s because Arngeir was present.”

Eivor gazed downwards out of guilt. “I hope the king isn’t too angry with me.”

“Have no fear. My father doesn’t even know you were involved. As far as he’s concerned, I spilled that mead on myself. Dag didn’t say anything either.”

The younger man stared at Sigurd in gratitude, admittedly surprised that he would omit his name from their late-night shenanigans.

“That’s... very kind of you. Thank you.”

Sigurd grinned at him, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder. “Well, you can repay me with a round of drinks some other time. For now though, let us simply put it behind us.”

The redheaded man turned his head towards the other end of the village and gazed into the nearby woods, bringing up a rather tempting proposal.

“Hey, Eivor. How would you like to join me for a ride?”

Eivor’s head perked up at that. “A ride? Now?”

Sigurd shrugged innocently. “Why not? My father wants to give our clan a chance to get everything in order before proceeding with this marriage, so I have the day off. I was going to explore the forests around the village on my own, but I’d love to have some company.”

“Where were you thinking of going?”

The prince pointed to a distant landmark. “The waterfall to the north. I caught a glimpse of it while I was at the temple, and I’d like to explore it some more. Care to come along?”

Eivor hesitated with his response, practically having to catch the words in his throat before they could leap out.

It was no question that he would’ve loved to accompany Sigurd on a quick jaunt throughout the woods, but he knew that such an interaction would’ve likely caused his feelings to swell even further. The man’s presence alone was enough to send Eivor into a frenzied state of infatuation, and he didn’t know if it would be wise to indulge in his endearment anymore.

But... he wondered if it would be possible to pursue a platonic relationship with Sigurd. It wouldn’t have been the first time Eivor was forced to stifle his feelings for someone, and it wasn’t as if they had a lot of time to get to know each other anyway.

He might have been interested in the man for now, but Eivor assumed his passion would soon vanish. Their gallivanting would only last for so long before the political troubles of Kjotve’s men rose again, and by then, the young man imagined his mind would’ve drifted onto other subjects already.

At least, that’s what he hoped would happen.

“Alright, Sigurd.” Eivor finally agreed. “I’ll join you.”

The prince smiled joyously. “Wonderful.” He began strolling away from the bench, walking past Eivor as he headed down the hill. “Come. Walk with me to the stables. We’ll take our leave from there.”

The other man followed suit and glanced upwards at Synin, beckoning her to glide along with them.

“I’m ready when you are.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

THE OUTSKIRTS OF BJORNHEIMR

Trotting calmly through the forest, Eivor and Sigurd rode alongside each other as they worked their way around the naked trees, leaving Bjornheimr’s noisy activity far behind them.

A multitude of snowflakes gently floated to the glistening ground around them and twinkled sporadically in the air, occasionally catching streaks of light in their icy clutch. Meanwhile, they swayed elegantly in the gale that blew in from beyond the barrier of trees, and adorned any surface that would hold onto them.

As for the wildlife in the woods, they seemed to be making an effort to avoid the pair of intruders traipsing through their home. They stuck to the shadows being cast by the nature surrounding them, and flitted erratically behind the bushes, causing their foliage to twitch with movement.

An orchestra of vibrant chirps could be heard singing throughout the space, and in the delicate rustling that filled the breeze, Eivor detected the sounds of animals yipping collectively, as if conversing with each other about the peculiar visitors wandering through their habitat.

It was a normal day in the woods like any other, and for that, Eivor was grateful.

“The nature you have here is breathtaking,” Sigurd remarked. “The gods were in high spirits when they created Bjornheimr.”

Eivor gazed at the trees lining the path, speaking contently. “They were, weren’t they? Sometimes I forget we’re still in Midgard when I see the beauty they’ve blessed us with.”

“Do you come out here often?”

The young man sighed. “Sadly, no. My duties keep me close to the village these days. Though, I used to spend a lot of time out here with my sister when I was younger. Thora and I would always hunt together in these woods.”

“Ah, yes,” Sigurd said in recognition. “I’ve met Thora as well. Your father introduced us at the feast. She... didn’t seem too fond of me.”

Eivor chuckled. “That’s how she is with everyone. She’s the oldest in our family, so she’s always been protective of me and Randvi. Don’t worry about it. She’ll come to trust you eventually.”

“I hope so. Animosity will provide little for us in times like these.”

Eivor quirked a curious brow at him. “And what of Ulfar? Have you met him yet?”

Sigurd nodded. “I have. He’s a mystery, that one. Hardly said a word to me, and yet, I feel like he spoke the most.”

The blond man paused at the observation. “Is that so? Hm. I knew Ulfar was quiet, but he’s never struck me as the standoffish type. Then again, he and I have known each other for years, so I’ve probably just forgotten how he is with strangers.”

“You two are close?”

“Indeed. Ulfar’s been in my life ever since Arngeir took me in. He was always there to fill the jarl’s absence when the man was occupied with other duties. He’s almost like a second father to me.”

Sigurd posed a question. “Is Ulfar from around here? I noticed a slight accent in his speech when we talked.”

“No,” Eivor explained. “He’s Saxon-born, but was raised by Norse parents after a viking raid destroyed his village.”

“Really? Well, it seems your clan is full of interesting people.”

Eivor snickered softly. “You don’t know the half of it. We have warriors, poets, hunters, thieves... every walk of life lives among us.”

The prince smirked. “And which one are you?”

“Me? I... can’t say for sure if I’m being honest. I suppose you’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

“A man never knows his own reputation, eh? I can understand that.”

Eivor threw the question back at him. “And what about you? You seemed to know your reputation pretty well when we spoke last night.”

“It’s difficult not to when you’re a prince. Everyone always has an opinion on how you should behave. How you should live. How you should think. Even this marriage wasn’t my idea.”

The other man couldn’t help but notice the hint of frustration in his voice. “It must get tiresome.”

Sigurd let out a defeated sigh.

“It...” he fell silent for a second, struggling to get his thoughts in order, “...it does, yes. Make no mistake, I appreciate the privileges I have, but sometimes, I wish I didn’t have to live my life for others. I wish... I could just live freely; be my own man.”

He continued his train of thought. “I think that’s why I enjoy spending time with you, Eivor. Everyone else I’ve met so far has expected me to act in a certain way, but... not you. You judge me based on how I am, and not how you think I should be. Sometimes, that’s all I ask of someone.”

Sigurd cut himself off mid-sentence, withdrawing from his statement. “F-Forgive me. I did not mean to be so direct. I just...”

“I understand,” Eivor reassured him. “You bear a lot of weight on your shoulders. It must be difficult, especially in the midst of a war.”

“I suppose I should get used to it. After all, I’m going to be a king someday. It’s not like my situation is getting any easier. Better to come to terms with it now than wrestle with it later.”

Eivor raised a more personal question, admittedly somewhat hesitant to hear his friend’s thoughts.

“...Can I ask you something, Sigurd?”

“Of course.”

He quietened his tone, uncertain of the response he would receive. “Do you feel as though I’m pestering you?”

The prince took a moment to process his words, clearly confused by the sentiment. “Pestering me? No, of course not. I just said I enjoy spending time with you, did I not? Why would I think anything else?”

Eivor’s gaze fell to the ground. “It’s just... I feel like you should be riding through these woods with Randvi instead of me. You came here for her, after all. The whole purpose of your visit is to get closer to your betrothed. I worry that I’m wasting your time.”

Sigurd turned to his friend with a look of concern, quick to come to his defense. “Randvi and I have our entire lives ahead of us, Eivor. These first two weeks are merely the start of our marriage. There will plenty of time for us to get to know each other later. Do not fret. Your company is valued.”

“Well, I’m relieved to hear that. Still, I hope I’m not causing too much of a distraction from your duties. I know you said things have been stressful for the Raven Clan recently.”

“They have, which is why I appreciate you coming along with me. It would unwise for me to ignore my responsibilities, but even the strongest of men need to take a breath occasionally. We have more than enough war waiting for us beyond the horizon. We need not seek it out.”

Eivor found some comfort in his words. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“But enough of that,” Sigurd said, gesturing to the path in front of them. “We’ve reached the waterfall. Come. Let’s take a closer look.”

Tugging on the reins of his horse, Sigurd brought the steed to a steady halt before hopping off of its saddle and landing in the snow, causing his boots to sink through the thick surface.

Meanwhile, Eivor tailed the prince from behind and followed his lead, sticking close to him as the two of them approached the waterfall in the distance.

He recognized this place, despite not having visited it in a while. The locals often referred to this waterfall as the Tears of Ymir due to the strangely humanoid visage in the rock formations surrounding it. It rested on the edge of Bjornheimr’s outskirts and looked out into the open sea, guarding over its vast waters as if the giant himself were gazing upon his creation.

Meanwhile, a roaring cloud of mist clung onto the bottom of the falls’ foundation and merged into the sea below, creating an illusion that made Eivor feel as if he were standing on top of the world.

It was a glorious sight to behold, truly. Many of the landmarks near Bjornheimr were stunning on their own, but the waterfall had always been something else. It watched over the village from a pedestal of rocks and trees, and seemed to pacify the nature around it with a meditative aura.

It was no wonder that Sigurd found himself drawn to it.

“The landscapes in this region never cease to amaze me,” the prince said in awe, stepping closer to the edge. “I wish I could stay here all day long. It feels so... disconnected from the chaos of our world. So peaceful. It truly is a luxury to have places like this near your home.”

Eivor joined him at the edge, losing himself in the majestic view.

“Indeed. It feels like a sanctuary created by the gods, hidden deep in the woods to protect it from the touch of mankind.”

Sigurd took a seat on the ground and let his legs dangle off the rock, gesturing to the mountains that dominated the horizon.

“You know, when I was a boy... I always used to have dreams about the mountains in this land. I would see a kingdom nestled in the depths of this world, constructed of architecture far beyond our understanding. There was a great tree that stood in the center of it. It was built out of iron and rock, and did not seem capable of breathing life like the ones you see here.”

Eivor sat beside the older man, intrigued by his tale. “A tree made of iron and rock? Can such a thing even exist?”

Sigurd shrugged. “Who knows? The nine realms are an impossible reality. If a tree such as Yggdrasil can exist, what makes an iron tree so implausible?”

The younger man grinned at the thought. “I suppose you’re right.”

The prince leaned back on his arms, relaxing in the snow. “What about you, Eivor? Have you ever had any dreams like that? Seen things that you just... couldn’t explain?”

Eivor nodded. “I have, actually. Ever since I was a child, I always dreamt of the Allfather.”

Sigurd raised a brow. “You’ve seen Odin in your sleep? Are you certain it’s not a vision?”

“It could be,” he conceded, “but nothing in the real world has ever reflected my dreams, so I’m not sure. Ingrida might disagree with me, though. She seems to believe that I carry the gods’ favor.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Sigurd admitted. “After all, they call you the Wolf-Kissed, do they not? For the scar on your neck? Not just anyone can survive an attack like that. Someone was watching over you that day.”

Eivor humored the idea. “You think? I hope that’s the case. Otherwise, I see no reason why my parents had to die while I was able to survive.”

Sigurd’s tone grew gentle with empathy. “...Our world is laden with injustices. The gods must’ve spared you so that you could rectify your own.”

The younger man beamed at him. “Which is where you come in.”

His friend returned the expression with a smile. “My clan will not rest until Kjotve lies rotting in the ground, and our people know peace again. You have my word, Eivor.”

Falling into a profound silence, the two of them simply took the time to enjoy each other’s company as they lounged together on the edge of the cliff, listening to the soothing sound of rushing water barreling down into the space below.

By now, the sun had risen to a point where it appeared as if it was being cradled by the mountains’ peaks, and parted the ocean’s tides with a shimmering streak of light.

As for Sigurd, the man seemed to be in an entirely different world at the moment. His eyes traveled far beyond the corporeal edges of their realm, and his temperament remained unperturbed. His mind had broken free of any troubles that once restrained it, and if Eivor didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn that the man was subconsciously leaning closer to him.

He just wished he knew what Sigurd was thinking. The man had assured Eivor he wasn’t bothered by his company, but... the younger man wondered if there was anything else lingering in the back of the prince’s mind.

Did he share the same affections that Eivor harbored? Did he feel just as conflicted about everything as his companion? Did he feel drawn to him too?

There were about a thousand different questions bouncing around Eivor’s thoughts, but he had no idea how to find an answer to any of them. He’d only known Sigurd for less than two days, after all. It wasn’t as if he could broach the subject without raising some level of awkwardness.

Still, he wished there was some way to crack the shell Sigurd kept around himself. The man didn’t seem disingenuous necessarily, but it was clear that he was hiding his own secrets. It sounded as if his father often scolded him for speaking his mind, and thus, he had become reluctant to talk openly about his concerns.

It was a shame, really. Eivor’s instincts told him that Sigurd was a man worth talking to, but he appeared to lock his thoughts in a cage that only a select few would be able to access. He had opened up a number of times already, but even then, Eivor found himself curious to learn more.

He just didn’t know how to break the wall between them.

“...Sigurd?” Eivor said timidly, tracing his finger through the snow. “Can I--”

The prince raised a silencing hand, jolting his head to the side in alarm.

“--Wait.” He whispered. “Did you hear that?”

The blond man glanced around the environment, finding nothing of interest. “...No? What is it?”

Sigurd propped himself up from the ground and gripped the hilt of his sword, attentively scanning the woods for any movement.

“I thought I heard someone else talking,” he explained in a hushed tone. “It sounded like they were hiding in the woods.”

Eivor followed his line of sight and glared at the wall of trees standing behind them, steadily reaching for his axe as his gaze pierced through the shadows.

“Is someone there?” Sigurd called, returning to his feet. “Come out where we can see you. There’s no use in cowering.”

The two of them waited for a response, remaining completely still.

Leaping out from the nest of trees, a lone arrow suddenly flew towards Eivor and soared straight past his neck, planting itself in the ground behind him.

Meanwhile, a series of footsteps shuffled around in the woods for a bit, and before they knew it, a pair of men had emerged from the darkness with swords in their hands, intent on slaying anything that moved.

“Shit...!” Eivor exclaimed, instantly recognizing their attire. “Kjotve’s men!”

Pouncing into battle, Sigurd and Eivor wasted no time in fending off the ambush and immediately started swinging their weapons about, clashing with the blades of their attackers.

Eivor swerved to the left in order to dodge another oncoming arrow and confronted one of the assailants on his own, leaving his companion to deal with the other. He deflected their blow with a quick bash of his axe, and swiftly ducked under a second swing before hurling his weapon into their gullet.

A stream of blood came squirting out from their throat following the counterattack, and within the blink of an eye, the man had fallen limp, gripping his neck to preserve a life that was no longer there.

As for the other man, he was still tangled in a fight with Sigurd and currently trying to plow through the prince’s adamant defenses, relentlessly delivering one blow after another. The redheaded man seemed to be holding up alright against the brute’s wild swings, but was clearly struggling to find an opening.

“Sigurd!” Eivor shouted over the commotion, sprinting towards him. “Hold on!”

Diving directly into the midst of the pandemonium, Eivor made a beeline for the gargantuan warrior and frantically searched for a weak point in his armor, raising his axe in preparation.

Before he was able to provide any aid for Sigurd however, the man flicked his eyes in Eivor’s direction and slammed his sword downwards in a vertical slice, carving his blade straight through the smaller man’s cheekbone.

Eivor was sent flying backwards due to the incredible impact and landed harshly in the snow with a heavy thud, causing his weapon to slip from his grasp. Meanwhile, Sigurd finally found the opening he needed and promptly took advantage of it, immediately turning the tide of the battle.

He heaved his longsword in the air with a fatigued grunt and lined it up with the warrior’s head, practically dropping the blade into their skull while their attention was focused on Eivor.

The man’s limbs twitched sporadically once the weapon made contact with his scalp, and after a few moments of struggling to process what just happened, he collapsed to his knees, toppling over right next to where Eivor lay.

Sigurd let out a labored breath following the end of the fight, quickly switching back into a state of panic once he saw what had become of his friend.

“Eivor!” He blurted out, rushing to the man. He crouched down and cradled Eivor’s head in his hold, checking to see if he was still breathing.

“Eivor,” Sigurd repeated worriedly, shaking him slightly. “Are you still with me?”

The younger man forced his eyes open to a slit upon hearing the prince’s pleas and grinned, wincing at the immediate pain that stung his cheek.

“Oh, relax, your highness...” Eivor teased cordially, his voice straining with effort. “It’s... it’s nothing to worry about...”

Sigurd sighed in relief, his breath turning into mist once it departed from his lips. “By Odin’s beard... I feared he might’ve killed you for a moment there.”

“I’ve hurt myself worse trying to navigate the village after waking up from a drunken stupor. I’ll... be alright.”

The older man wasn’t ready to calm down just yet. “Well, I’m not willing to let my guard down until we get you back to Bjornheimr. There could be more people hiding in the woods.” Sigurd shook his head in anger. “Dammit...! Where did they come from? Do you think these men were scouts?”

Eivor brought himself to a sitting position, relying on Sigurd’s support to elevate himself.

“...P-Possibly, or they could be stragglers. Either way... we need to return to the village and let the jarl know what’s going on. I... I imagine your father will want to hear of this too.”

“First, let’s focus on tending to your wound,” the prince reminded him. “We should bring you to the seeress as soon as possible. It looks like the blade cut you pretty deep.”

Eivor held onto Sigurd’s arm, pulling himself back up to his feet. “Well, whatever we do... we need to get out of these woods. Idling out here isn’t going to do us any favors.”

“Agreed.”

The older man whistled for his horse, offering Eivor a helping hand once he noticed that his steed had fled.

“Come,” he instructed. “I’ll take you back to the village. We shouldn’t waste another minute in this forest.”

Eivor followed Sigurd’s actions, growing increasingly sluggish with every step he took. “...Thank you, Sigurd. I’m glad I had you by my side today.”

The prince climbed onto his mount and took hold of the reins, allowing Eivor to take a seat as the other man wrapped his arms around his waist.

“No. Thank you, Eivor. I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.” Sigurd diverted his focus to the journey ahead of them, comforting his friend with some final words. The man may have pretended that he wasn’t affected, but Sigurd could tell that Eivor’s wound was draining his energy by the second.

“Hush now, drengr,” he soothed in a gentle voice. “Save your strength. I’ll take you back to Bjornheimr. Just rest now. You’ll be alright.”

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