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#dock used to repair his cloak but he figured after a while that it would keep tearing at the bottom so he gave up
urisk-factor · 3 years
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Fuck it. I think Dock and Alastor can sew (well, Dock somewhat obviously cuz doctor)
Alastor had a little silver coloured thimble. Dock doesn't bother. Alastor likes making "don't sew your fingers to the material" jokes. What he does not know is that Dock did that once on accident and didn't even notice for a minute afterwards.
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galaxy-lilies · 3 years
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I have no idea what ginger island is but I love the Stardew valley au so yes please!
Ginger island is an unlockable area where the player is able to explore the island, gain another farming area, collect golden walnuts, and explore the volcano dungeons. To first unlock it, however, the player needs to fix up the old boat in the fisherman's back dock.
Philza is the fisherman in this AU and reaches out to Sapnap for some iridium bars and battery packs. In the meantime he asks Karl to collect some hardwood to help him fix the boat. The three fiances gather the materials quickly, quackity helping out karl with chopping down trees while sapnap smelted the iridium ores.
When they arrive at Philza's shop they're greeted by Wilbur who motions that Phil was in the back repairing anything else he needed before the fiances came with their supplies. That's how they find Phil surrounded by a bunch of crabs but otherwise fixing the glass panes on the boat.
He thanks the three for helping out and promises that the boat would be fixed by tomorrow. Karl pipes up and asks where exactly the boat led to and Phil explained it led to an island he actually grew up on.
"I was raised by the birds there, collecting mangoes, bananas, and golden walnuts. It was also there I met my wife!"
Quackity blinked. "Wait. YOU'RE MARRIED???"
Philza laughed at the reaction. "Indeed I am. I haven't seen her in a long time, and I unfortunately don't think I will anytime soon.
Not in this lifetime, at least."
"Either way, I'm allowing you three lovebirds to use my old hut I have over there. It might be a little dusty but it should be fine. Plus if you're looking for another project there's an old resort location right off the dock. So many hurricanes have destroyed it since but it should be easy to repair.
And sure enough the next day they were off. Clad in gaudy hawaiian shirts, swim shorts, and flip flops they arrived on shore to first see the destroyed resort.
"Damn, Phil wasn't lying when he said it was destroyed," Sapnap said, crouching down by the rubble.
The three head west to find Phil's old hut and an expanse of unused soil. They cleared some of the debris and entered the hut. It was quite homey and large enough for the three of them. There were some old notes and photos on the walls, throughly faded from time. Karl grabbed one to look at and his eyes widened. He silently puts it in his satchel and goes back to the kitchen to meet up with sapnap and quackity.
"Well it seems to be in good shape. If anything we can probably stay here the night if we wanted to explore more tomorrow."
They wander around the west side of the island seeing a shipwreck north of the beach and a few tide pools. They head eastward to see the jungle and a huge parrot group taking over an abandoned tree house.
On the way to the treehouse, however, quackity stopped to look at a plant with a golden walnut in the middle. He plucked it off and shook it, the walnut jingling like a bell.
"Hey guys check this out-"
Suddenly they were swarmed by the flock of parrots, one of them taking quackity's beanie, the other eating the golden walnut from his hand.
Once they dispersed and Quackity realized he was missing his beanie he exclaimed, "HEY THAT'S MINE, GIVE IT BACK!"
The parrots only squawk playfully and flew off, heading towards the volcano. Quackity starts running ahead of them, sapnap and karl calling out for quackity to slow down. The parrots squawked again and flew through the entrance of the volcano. Quackity ran in blindly before letting out a yelp. Concerned and confused karl rushed in after.
And that's how they found quackity sputtering in a water pool with a parrot squawking happily at quackity's demise. As a cherry on top it dropped his beanie into his lap getting it all wet. Quackity huffed, putting it on.
"Thanks for that, I truly enjoyed it." he snarked, getting out of the water pool to return to his partners.
Now they were met by the entrance of the cave. A river of lava split the entrance and the first level of the dungeon. All of their farming supplies were back home and sapnap was the only one who brought a his sword.
As quackity and sapnap tried to figure out a solution to get across, Karl glanced to the side and found a barred door. On the other side was a button and an entrance leading to somewhere in the dungeons. He closed his eyes and felt his human form fall. He blinked and looked down seeing his colorful noodle arms again and snaked his hand through the bars. He hears a click and a clang and the door was gone.
Alerted by the noise, Sapnap and quackity whip their heads around to see a smug, multicolored karl showing the opening. After a few pecks on the cheek and a flushed karl, they all enter the opening revealing a huge, mechanical forge. Karl and quackity couldn't hold back a smile as Sapnap started gushing over how cool it looked and how it functioned.
"Dear Yoba, if I could only bring this back to Pelican Town..." sapnap said, trailing off.
They notice and collect a few more golden walnuts nearby before finding another exit. Curious, they find a level of a dungeon with a similar bar door and button mechanic. After Karl snakes his hand through and unlocks the door, they're met with a myriad of monsters ready to fight them. Karl did his best to placate the tiger slimes, but they were more rabid than the normal slimes back in the mines. Quackity yelped as a magma sprite came down to swipe at his head and Sapnap swung his sword to scare off the sprite.
"We're outnumbered," sapnap said, swiping at another magma sprite. They were starting to swarm around the trio, stunning and burning them in the process.
All of a sudden there was a squawk and the very same swarm of parrots came to the rescue. They scared away any remaining monsters and ushered the trio out of the dungeon and back to the entrance. One of the parrots stayed behind and sat on top of quackity's head, snuggling into his beanie.
"Looks like you've got new friend," karl teased earning a groan from quackity.
The three agree that they should go back to Pelican Town for the day and called up Phil to pick them up. Once they return to his fish shop, karl told quackity and sapnap he would meet up with them after he talked to phil.
Once alone, Phil asks what was up and Karl presented the picture.
"...Where did you find this?" he whispers, running his fingers over the creased edges of the photo.
"It was on the wall of your old hut," karl explained, leaning on the counter, "I was the only one who saw it, by the way, your secret is safe with me."
Philza stashed the photo in his cloak. "I see..."
Karl analyzed Phil's face before continuing. "So tell me Phil...
How exactly did you marry the Goddess of Death?"
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theflashdriver · 3 years
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Too Late
A mysterious visitor draws Blaze to the docks, having made his presence known through Marine and requested conversation with her. His reasons for this, who he is and why he's even here are all unknowns. Despite this rudeness, the ruler of the Sol dimension can't help but feel a bizarre tension in the air. Written for sonamysilvazeweek 2021, using the bonus prompt of hurt/comfort!
This one is more intended to be pure angst than romance but it is very soft, I hope folks enjoy!
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These past two days had brought a bizarre tension that Blaze knew the origin of but not how to confront. Yesterday morning, a little before noon, Marine had burst into a royal meeting with all the disruptive force that she could muster. The now adult raccoon, stood in front of ministers and community stakeholders, had freely and willingly babbled about a weird old wizard who had offered to help with her ships if he could meet with the princess. Naturally, due to a combination of the shipwright’s tone and chosen way of relaying this information, Blaze had rather exploded at her, insisting that she leave and that this so-called wizard should make an appointment. When the girl had tried to stand her ground, she’d been asked if this person was a threat. With a grumble of no, knowing she was beat, the raccoon had made her way through the halls but out the castle entirely.
That was, until eight o’clock this morning. The young raccoon had barraged her way into the royal bedchambers, claiming that the same old wizard had successfully pulled eight of her crashed ships from the ocean and aided in their repair by merely waving his hand. She said that he was some kind of psychic sent from the other dimension and that, despite how weird and old he was, he apparently knew Cream, Sonic, Tails and the others. All those things had piqued Blaze’s interest, of course they had, but none of them propagated her curiosity quite like Marine claiming he’d sat on the dock ever since he’d arrived. He hadn’t eaten or even slept; he’d simply sat waiting for the princess.
Unfortunately, just like the day before, today had been filled to burst with work. Gardon had passed away three months ago and, although the monarch was now mature, the burden of that loss was still weighing heavily on her. No longer having that confidante, that source of sage advice, was finally beginning to wear her down. Hours were spent dealing with fussy landowners and handling minor issues, with both sets of Eggman long gone too, the guardian part of her role had been regulated to a mere title. It’d taken until now, approaching night on this summer day, for her to find the time and leave the castle.
The evening was humid, even by the docks, but that wasn’t too abnormal for this time of year. A dark sky hung overhead; grey clouds formed a barrier that barely allowed the pink of the sunset to pierce through. She was dressed in her usual working garb, her purple coat and white tights, but she wasn’t entirely sure if this was work. Marine’s descriptions of this man had been sparse to say the least- apparently, he was old, would glow with a strange cyan light and looked rather homeless. Blaze wasn’t even certain that her aid was needed in the Chaos dimension and so she hadn’t brought the Sol emeralds; according to Marine, he was just here to meet with the princess.
Blaze quickly found herself at the stout dock that Marine tended to work off of. Sure enough, no fewer than eight vessels that she could scarcely recognise were happily floating along either side of the wooden boardwalk. None of them held her attention for long though, despite how ludicrous and intricate their designs were. No, Blaze’s eyes quickly fell upon a cloaked figure sitting at the very end of the dock.
Her attention was immediately captured by a set of seven quills, the formation of which she’d never seen on a hedgehog before. They were long overgrown and, though she could tell five ascended from his forehead while two stretched from the back of his head, they’d all began to matt into one continuous mass of grey fur. The cloak Marine had described was actually a garb formed from brown burlap, heavily stitched in places and acting as some strange poncho with long and billowing sleeves. Strangely, his right sleeve hung loosely at his side while his left reached up to cradle his head.
“Hello there? Are you the one who’s been waiting for me?” She called out, trying to get his attention.
“Oh, hello,” A croaking voice half-hummed from the form, he didn’t so much as turn back, “It’s a shame you didn’t come yesterday, the sunset was wonderful.”
Feeling a little slighted by the hedgehog’s cheekiness, Blaze responded in kind, “Well, I’m sorry but my role finds me rather busy.”
“Oh, no, there’s nothing to be sorry about. I think I can make this work,” Once those words sounded, the hedgehog’s back straightened and his hand left his chin.
She watched from behind as he pointed to the sky and, though she wasn’t sure what to expect, she couldn’t have anticipated what would happen next. The once grey shroud that had blocked the sun was suddenly tinted cotton-candy blue. She watched as his fingers curled into a fist and the cloud mass seemed to convulse, almost gathering at a single point, before he flicked his wrist and spread his fingers. The clouds parted into a wide circle that breached the horizon and, as it did, his hand was made fully visible. A cyan circle shone on the back of his palm; by the tears on his worn glove, she could tell that it was part of his hand.
“Oh, today’s even prettier, is that normal for this world?” It was only then that the form turned for face her, not rising and bowing like most of her subjects would but simply glancing over his shoulder with a soft smile on his face.
Behind him, the sun couldn’t be more than an inch away from the ocean’s surface and the sky was the most glorious shade of pastel pink… but that couldn’t hold the feline’s attention. Her eyes locked on the hedgehog’s face, the face of an old and tired man. Sunburn marred his muzzle, giving him a rough appearance despite his smile. Plumes of white fur breached his garb’s neck-hole, wrinkles covered his face and there was an age in his eyes that spoke volumes to the feline. Marine hadn’t been inaccurate to call him a wizard, what he’d just done was ludicrous and he surely looked the part, but something in those bright yellow eyes called to Blaze in a bizarre way.
Stumped, finding herself unable to answer, Blaze managed another step forward before catching herself, “What on earth did you just do?”
“Oh, I just pushed the clouds away,” He said, so very nonchalantly, as he turned back to the sky, “Don’t you think it’s pretty?
“It’s certainly prettier than it was,” She conceded through clenched teeth, daring to take another step closer. Though he didn’t seem threatening, this bizarre figure had just split the sky with no more than a wave of his hand, “Marine was insistent that I come down here as soon as possible, was there a reason for that?”
“What? Oh, I’m sorry, no. I would have happily waited for a few weeks at least,.I heard that you’re very busy,” He patted the spot on the docks next to him, smiling back at her again, “I just wanted to talk with you a little, after that I’ll be on my way.”
Under normal circumstances, Blaze would have turned tail there and then. If he was just here to talk and willing to wait then he could book an appointment like all the rest; but these weren’t normal circumstances. He’d parted the sky, brought ships back from the depths and... well, something bizarre was buzzing in Blaze’s head. As she looked upon his form, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu; she’d never seen this old man in her life and yet he looked so familiar. The term anemoia came to mind but she was struggling to recall its meaning. Without even really thinking, she found herself stepping closer still to the grey figure- soon she was standing by his side.
It was as he turned back to the sunset, releasing a sigh of contentment, that Blaze truly understood what she was looking at. When Marine said he’d raised and repaired her ships with one hand, Blaze hadn’t thought that he lacked the other. His right arm had been reduced to a stump, bound at its end, but that wasn’t where the damage ended. Only his right leg poked free from his garb to hang over the edge, this figure had seen far more than his share of adversity. Even the smiling form of his muzzle seemed slightly battered and, even over the scent of sea air, the stench he carried was that of brimstone and sweat decades aged.
“And what is it that you want to talk about?” Blaze, rather bluntly, managed to ask.
“Well, um,” He tugged at his chest fur, “I have a couple of questions to ask, but I’m sure you’ll have some for me too. How about we take turns asking things? I asked one then you get to.”
Today just kept growing more bizarre, he hadn’t come to ask her anything, he’d come to play a game of twenty questions. Even with Marine, even with Sonic or Amy or any of the others, if they tried to confront her like this then she’d ask them to simply cut to the chase. But as she stood above him, a question did find purchase in her mind. He apparently knew the others, that meant he was probably from their dimension, so why hadn’t they bumped into each other? He was an older hedgehog, was he related to Sonic? She didn’t think so, but it was so bizarre- it was like she knew where he came from, it was almost on the tip of her tongue. Even his name, it was as though she was so sure of it but couldn’t verbalise it no matter how she tried.
With a heavy sigh, not masked in the way she’d try to hide such normalities during her royal meetings, Blaze dropped down to sit beside the grey figure, “Fine, ask away.”
“What, really? O-Okay,” He seemed just as surprised as she was about her willingness to go along with this, “I’m, well, I think I’m eighty-two now. How old are you?”
Blaze blinked; this absolute stranger had just asked the princess her age in such a blunt manner. His lack of tact was frankly astounding but Blaze wasn’t off put. If anything, there was something strangely homely in how casually he’d asked, “I’m twenty-eight now, going on twenty-nine.”
“Oh wow, it’s like we’re opposites,” He immediately seemed to notice, smiling even more warmly than he had before, “Your turn then.”
A couple of ideas floated in her head, questions that felt strangely pointless to ask despite her not knowing the answers. Eventually, she managed to settle on one.
“Marine said you knew those in the other dimension,” She posited, “Do you come from there? I’ve been over a few times now and I don’t think I’ve ever…” For whatever reason, another surge of déjà vu forced her to hesitate, “Seen you.”
“Oh, yes, right. I don’t think you would have, no,” He seemed to stumble over a collection of thoughts, “I’m from there but not from then, you see. I’m from their dimension but a very different time. Two-hundred years in their future, I was born. The time I came from though, that’s long gone, overwritten by my travels,” The old man said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, “It was a bad place to live to be honest, overrun by monsters long before I was born. It took a lot but, after almost a hundred years of work, it’s finally all sorted out. I kept going back to the past and preventing disasters, now there’s nothing left to prevent,” And she found herself listening, as if it was the most regular of answers, “I guess I kind of come from nowhere now though, it’s nice there but it’s not exactly home. I’m just drifting now really…”
“Right…” The princess mumbled, trying to take that all in and finding it surprisingly easy.
Up until now things had been weird but now things were surpassing the point of strangeness. Looking past the other oddities this figure presented, for her to hear what she had just heard and feel as though that was both truthful and normal was the most bizarre sensation Blaze had ever experienced. Perhaps it was because she was used to introducing herself as a princess of another dimension but the fact she was so unphased by his words was thoroughly phasing her.
Before she could dwell on it too much, he was smiling at her again, “I’m wondering, the others mentioned that you were a pyrokinetic, would you mind showing me…?”
Again, without much thought, Blaze found this usually questionable proposal agreeable. She raised her right hand between them and, with no more than the click of her fingers, the top of her forefinger was set alight. Almost immediately he moved in closer, his bright yellow eyes marvelled at the exposed flame.
“Though it took me a while to properly control it, I’ve had this power for all my life,” She explained, snuffing the light against her palm, “What about you? What’s that symbol on your hand and what did you do with the clouds?”
As if to match her, the hedgehog raised his hand. Light seemed to pulse and ebb from the shining mark at his hand’s centre, tinting the environment around it. Once that had been shown, in such a casual way, the hedgehog turned and gestured to the sea before pointing his forefinger up. A light seemed to well in the dark depths of the water and, almost instantly, the waves ceased their lapping. Slowly coiling its way up, like some great serpent emerging from a lake, a long tendril of water, bathed in that same cyan glow, began to extend from the sea. It cut the sky, stretching a good ten metres up. Then, with a further wave of his hand, it fell away from them as though it was a tree that’d been chopped at the base. With a colossal splash, the waves restarted with a brief degree of additional aggression before, eventually, settling back into their regular pattern.
In any other situation, coming from any other person, Blaze would have taken this as some vague show of force. She knew that he could manipulate more than water, she’d seen him shift the cloud many miles in the sky, but he’d chosen to control the element that directly countered her own. Again though, for some unthinkable reason, Blaze couldn’t find the emotion to be shocked or perturbed.
“I’m psychic, I’ve had this power for as long as I remember but, to be quite honest, I’ve got no idea how it actually works or where it comes from,” His smile grew a little warmer, “I never really thought it all that important, all that matters is how these powers are used.”
“I’ve tried to embody similar thoughts myself,” She quickly responded, attempting not to dwell on that or the thoughts that came with it, “It’s your turn.”
“This is my big question, but I know this might be a little strange to ask. You don’t have to answer it if you’re not comfortable,” He said, as if everything up to this point had been normal, “Do you like living here? Do you like being the princess?”  
This wasn’t a question Blaze was new to, it wasn’t uncommon for children to ask what it was like being a princess, but Blaze thought his version carried a little more weight. He wasn’t asking about the simple things, like sleeping in a big bed or heading public events. For whatever reason, the princess knew he was asking if she actually enjoyed the role she’d been born into and, again for some unknown reason, she felt prompted to answer truthfully. This stranger was compelling her to unearth truths in a way that she hadn’t dared before.
“It’s… difficult,” She muttered, “Even though I hold a privileged position, even though I know I’m luckier than most, I don’t know that I’ve ever been comfortable,” Her head found her hand, her gaze drifted to the sea, “I can’t see my friends often, I can’t choose where I go and when, I can’t even stroll to the docks on a whim,” For some reason, although that was true, saying it aloud felt incredibly selfish, “But, it would be a lie to say I’m totally uncomfortable here. Marine keeps things interesting. Though I’ve seen adversity I’ve either been able to handle it or found the strength to call upon friends to aid me. Even if it’s not perfect, I’m happy I can live here and bring justice for those around me. I don’t know that I could ever see myself giving it up or…”
Blaze caught herself, grinding their conversation to a halt, “This is hardly professional of me; I really don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I shouldn’t be talking to anyone like this.”
“Well, I’d be lying if I told you I minded all that or that I wasn’t enjoying our conversation,” His eyes seemed to flicker away from hers and, though he spoke positively, his grin drooped ever so slightly, “I simply have a face that a people find familiar, I think it’s got something to do with my travels through time. People tend to speak with me in ways that they wouldn’t others.”
Somehow, despite the softness of his expressions and the newness behind their interactions, the princess could see that he wasn’t telling the total truth. There was something in the bending of his brow, the way the words hung on his lips. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t to do with him at all. Maybe it was the way his words resonated with her eardrums.
Equally though, she’d be lying if she said that she didn’t see what he’d said, “You do have a rather…” She rummaged for the right words, good and polished words, but what she drew was far too flimsy, “Kind face,” Though her stomach churned at her inaccurate choice of words, she pressed on, “Though that concerns me, it does really feel as though I’ve met you before. Were you a friend of Gardon’s?”
“Gardon?” The word rolled off his tongue, she couldn’t recall hearing that name in his voice at all. She knew the answer before he seemed to, “No, I don’t think so. Who’s Gardon?”
“He was,” Her tongue hitched on words like a hoe dragging through rocks, “Like a father to me,” That seemed right to tell him, even if it wasn’t proper to admit, “I didn’t especially realise that when he was with us but, despite that, I think he knew. He’d looked after me since I was a little girl, I can’t imagine he didn’t occasionally consider himself in that role,” She found herself stumbling, emotions were bubbling to the surface but, for some reason, despite her oversharing, she didn’t care, “I probably should have said I shared his view or made my attachment clearer but, given my position, it wouldn’t have been right.”
“Well,” Hesitantly, shakily, that glowing hand of his came to reside upon her shoulder. Any normal stranger would have promptly been brushed off, told to keep their hands away, but something about that weight upon her shoulder ebbed with a further familiarity that she could not place, “It sounds as if I’d love to have been a friend of Gardon’s, I’m so sorry, Blaze.”
It was only now, having sat with him for a while, that Blaze was beginning to pick up on subtle aspects of his mannerisms. Every word seemed as though it was intently thought out, as if he was running through a thousand memories every time she finished a sentence- so often punctuated with a hum or the word well. It was as if he was doing what she had done for so many years; carefully choosing his words, trying to match her royal status. The only difference was that while she searched for professional words, he seemed to do much the opposite. Not once had he remembered to call her your majesty or your highness, regardless of how much thinking he did.
“Though it’s not the same, I’ve lost someone close to me too,” For the first time since they’d started their conversation, his gaze had flickered away from her and back towards the sea, “Then again, I-I suppose that’s to be expected when you reach my age,” He took another moment, his remaining hand slipped from her shoulder to his knee as he seemed to catch himself, “No one so recently of course, but it’s hard to forget,” She watched his brow furrow further, his fingers seemed to push deeper into his cloak as his words slowly spilled, “You never actually want to forget. If you do, you’ll regret forgetting, more than anything else in the world.”
Once again, the two found themselves sitting in silence. Blaze the cat, the cold and hardened queen of the Sol dimension, felt a few bizarre words weighing so heavily on her tongue. In a matter of moments, with only a handful of words, the tension between them had remounted and tripled. Despite that, she was about to make things even more awkward.
“D-Did you love them?” She stumbled to ask, rather immediately regretting it but finding it impossible not to say something in continuation, “The person that you lost, I mean.”
“Oh, I loved her more than anything,” His answer was so immediate, “So much in fact that I can’t help but think I very much took her for granted. She never took to the word love well, it always seemed to embarrass her, but I feel as though I should have said it a million times more,” Unlike the name of Gardon or so many other things Blaze had heard today, the word love in his tone sounded so unforgivably familiar. It made her feel as though she was some kind of demon for not knowing where she’d heard it, “She was smart, brave, strong… and so much kinder than she probably liked to think, let alone that she could stand to admit,” The way he spoke seemed to carry a nostalgic joy and love that Blaze couldn’t recall seeing in any person, across their entire life “She’d scold me so often, I don’t think she realised that was how she showed her love. I don’t think I knew it either, but I would still go too far and get myself hurt just trying to impress her. It was all with the intent to do good of course, never pointless, but...”
A spark had grown in his eye, another glow that she recognised, but so very quickly he seemed to snuff it. Worry lines appeared on the hedgehog’s brow as he turned back to the sunset.
His smile frayed away at the seams as he mumbled, that love wasn’t gone but now it was being tiptoed around, “Well, she went too far herself a handful of times…”
This old man, this man almost three times her age, had already established a connection with her that few people, inside or out of her kingdom, had managed. Somehow, in a matter of minutes and without seeming to try, he’d managed to bring her fully out of her shell and allowed her access to his. No, it was more than that, it was as if she wanted access to the walls around this history he’d lived.  
“I’m…” Something about this felt weird to say, even though she knew it was right, “Sorry for your loss too.”
“I’m sure she loves watching the sunset,” He half hummed before catching himself and beginning to stammer, “W-Would have loved to, rather. This world is so very pretty, though I haven’t stayed for long, I’ve found myself rather smitten with it,” With his hand, he gestured out to the horizon and she followed his pointing, “Islands littered with limitless wonders, a glorious sunset every evening, softly rolling tides and wonderful people,” He spoke such simple words but they were so plainly from the heart, “Yes, this must be the most beautiful place I’ve ever visited. Even better than the world I made.”
Having not watched many sunsets, Blaze didn’t think she was in a good position to judge but there was no denying the prettiness of this sky. The soft pink of the ether, fading orange away from the sun and red towards, it was truly breath-taking to behold. The way the silver clouds hung, parted by his will, as if it were a picture frame surrounding the view made it all the more special. It was as if he’d revealed something she’d never have noticed, like he’d excavated some fossil or deciphered some ancient code.
“I’ve…” She caught herself before she could say something naïve again, “I must profess, I never really watched it until today. It just seemed so regular, as if it wasn’t worth noticing,” That turned his head but she kept her focus on the view in front of them, “But you’re right, it is beautiful,” In this moment, having discussed so much, Blaze felt bold enough to finally pry and ask the question she weirdly felt she already knew the answer to, “What did you say your name was?”
“Oh, I don’t think you asked so I didn’t give my name,” He’d tried to make it sound as though he’d just realised but Blaze could tell that was intentional, “I’m, um…” It took him much too long to provide an answer, “I’m Venice, yes, sorry. Its been a while since I’ve heard my name, let alone used it.”
“Venice?” That name didn’t sit fondly on her tongue, it didn’t seem to suit him at all. No, without even watching him speak it, Blaze knew that he was lying, “You mean, like the city in the other dimension? The one with the canals.”
“Y-Yeah,” He muttered in an attempt to reaffirm, “I think I was born there. I must admit, its been too long for me to really remember now. It’s really beautiful, but it can’t compare to this…”
“I see,” She didn’t feel as though she could really fight him on this, not directly at least.
In the silence that followed, Blaze couldn’t help but tear her gaze from the skyline and attempt to look upon him again. His heart seemed to always be on his sleeve; he was perpetually trying not to lie but plainly obfuscating the truth. Now closer, she could make out little details that were lost on her before. While his missing arm and leg were the most obvious marks on his body, it was clear that the tattered shroud he wore was intended to cover more. On his muzzle, just beneath his left eye, was a thin but clear gash that stretched almost the entire length of his cheek. The hedgehog’s nose looked as though it had been broken at least once, the way his left shoulder seemed to slump suggested that arm hadn’t escaped unharmed too and he was missing no fewer than three teeth.
These injuries would make any normal person feel bad for the hedgehog, but something about them was impacting Blaze a magnitude more than she’d expected. She’d been to hospitals in the wake of disaster, she’d seen people with injuries like his and even far worse following great storms and fires and floods, and she had felt for them… but it had never seemed quite so personal. Perhaps it was because he was older and she had just lost Gardon, perhaps it was because he’d shown her kindness, but Blaze doubted that. It was probably because of the bizarre connection she had felt this entire time. Who was this old man, who had he loved and what was he doing here?
Despite that question hanging in her mind, a very different one fell from Blaze’s mouth, “Do you want to talk about your partner some more?”
Equal parts of his face read that he did and didn’t want to but, ultimately, he resumed his talk, “I remember every detail, every little thing about her, as if we were together only yesterday. The way she’d flinch and brace at every bump in the night, the way she’d try to hide her laugh whenever I was especially stupid, the purrs she’d babble whenever things were truly peaceful, how she’d fuss over me while bandaging my injuries only to fuss more when I offered to help with hers,” Emotion now seemed to be overwhelming him, he went from staring straight at the sunset to turning such that she couldn’t see more than the edge of his muzzle, “There was this word she’d use, scolding me but not scolding me every time she spoke it. I didn’t even know what it meant for ages; it took me until very recently to know just what she meant by it though…”
Before she could even puppet her tongue, a question forcibly spilled fourth, “What was that word?”
“Oh, I don’t think I can stand to say it,” Somehow, by only seeing the edge of his ears furrowing and the slightest shake of his body, the princess could tell that the old hedgehog was at least hurting if not actually crying, “I’m sorry.”
Carefully, slowly, Blaze reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. That contact seemed to freeze him entirely or, perhaps, it would be better said that her touch had petrified him, “There’s nothing to be sorry for, I’m sorry you lost someone you clearly cared so much for,” For whatever reason, even though it was what so many had said to her after Gardon’s death, that didn’t seem like enough, “But, judging by what you said when I first arrived, I’m sure she’d be very proud of you. It sounds like you’ve lived a difficult life and done more for your world than people will ever know.”
“She probably would be,” He turned back, eyes red and plainly tired. He rubbed at his eyes with his stub, “I suppose, I lived up to our agreement.”
“You had an agreement?” She automatically pried before instantly regretting her forwardness.
“We promised to save our world, regardless of the cost,” Those words carried a weight that, try as she might, Blaze couldn’t shake. He concluded with five simple words that carried a tremendous weight, “That cost was rather high.”
Again, words seemed to leave her before she could question whether it was right or wrong to ask, “Do you think it was worth it?”
“I like to think this was,” Pulling his hand from his face, he rubbed where his right hand should have been, “Other things though… no, not so much, but there’s no going back now. It’s too late now, there’s no way of making up for what we exchanged.”
Blaze didn’t even need to ask the next question on her mind- the gap was filled without her permission. He lost his partner, whoever this woman was, to their task, at what stage and age she had no idea, but Blaze could feel her heart bleeding for him. He was old and so there was no real way to know when he’d lost her, he talked as if it was recent but to her it felt as though she’d vanished from his life long ago. This was just so strange, Blaze felt so many things that she couldn’t express and couldn’t recall feeling before. Why was he talking with her about all this?
Floundering, struggling for something to raise his spirits, Blaze blurted, “W-What about the others? I assume you’ve spent time with Cream, Sonic, Amy, all of them? Bonding with them helped me, did it do the same for you?”
“To an extent, I can’t deny that, but I haven’t seen any of them for decades. I’ve been dealing with their children and their children’s children and so on…” Recalling that seemed to return some of the joy to his muzzle, “Their faces began to blur towards the end, I’m sure I called one of their furthest descendants Amy more often than by her own name,” He almost chuckled, “It feels like yours is the most unique face I’ve seen in years, Blaze.”
Not once had he referred to her as princess or by the likes of your majesty, he’d asked about it as her job but it clearly wasn’t who he considered her. The name Blaze seemed to fall from his mouth and slip into her ears so easily, as if it almost belonged in the space between the two of them. Venice didn’t seem as though it’d capture nearly the same space.
“But no, there was no replacing her; not even partially,” He managed to continue, bright eyes gleamed with light even as the sun was rapidly setting, “Knowing them helped certainly but it's only now, as I reach this twilight age, I’ve realised quite how much I miss her.”
Part of Blaze wanted to believe that was the only reason he was here, that the old man was a wandering soul that’d long lost its leash, but there was something in itching at the back of her head that told her that wasn’t true. Furthermore, while it sounded like there was some truth to what he’d said, it didn’t seem like the whole truth; his talk of forgetting echoed in her mind. Regardless of that though, this sad hedgehog had rather endeared himself to her and if she could help shed some of that weight from his shoulders then she’d have done good today.
“What was she like?” She more gently questioned.
“My partner was, and always will be, the best person I ever knew,” His remaining shoulder started to relax, his whole form seemed to loosen as his stare returned to the sunset, “She knew me better than I knew myself, whenever I was pushing myself too far she wouldn’t hesitate to stop me. Without even blinking, she wouldn’t hesitate to knock me down or tell me I was being foolish. My emotions would get the better of me rather often while, even though she usually felt the same as me, she subdued most of hers. Whenever she couldn’t though, whenever things grew too aggravating or a defeat crushed her, I was there as best as I could be to help,” Even though he was looking off into the distance, she could tell he was more imagining than staring at the sunset, “She’d read poetry and prose while I liked to play games and investigate history, but we shared a number of things…”
For whatever reason, though she assumed it to be second-hand embarrassment on the part of Venice’s long-lost partner, the way he’d phrased those first compliments and briefly regaled her with their history was warming the princess’ heart further still. She found herself shifting just a little closer, entirely enamoured with the way he talked about this woman. Though Blaze couldn’t even begin to picture this other time traveler in her mind, she felt as though she was familiar too. Albeit, in a very different way.
“The world we were born into was practically devoid of nature, plants refused to grow and rain rarely fell. The world of the past that we knew came from books and, of the collections of books we found, none would interest us like those tomes containing nature photography. They let us see waterfalls, lush green grass and sights we couldn’t have even fathomed,” He reminisced, “As soon as I found out about them, I’d compare her to a star so very often. It always seemed to embarrass her just a little, how I always thought they were so very pretty. I never meant it like that at the time, but hindsight and a life of living paints a rather different story. I was so very… well, it’s not her word, but I was very oblivious to both of our feelings.”
A few clouds had begun to drift, dusting the sky and obscuring the end of the sunset, but with a wave he rearranged the sky again. As he did so, she watched as his attention was pulled from that imagined place and arrived back at reality. What was pink had gradually drifted to a deeper red and the colour had begun to overwhelm the dark clouds that lingered upon it. Even as it was nearing its end, even if the sun would dip beneath the horizon in a matter of minutes, it was all still so beautiful.
“The way the sun paints the sky in such a natural way never ceases to amaze me. I love a bright blue sky, free of clouds, but the way this one contrasts and blurs them is just so…” The joy in his voice reached a crescendo, “I’m just so glad that I finally got to see this with you.”
“See this with me?” Blaze blinked; she’d been overjoyed to hear him talk so freely but that stumble caught her full attention.
Her questioning seemed to stop him in his tracks, just as it did her. What could he have possibly meant by that? Panic and regret crumpled his face, “Um, yes… I’m glad we could have our meeting, as in…” The hedgehog’s head quickly whipped from her again, “But it’s been so long, the sun’s almost set. I’m sorry, Blaze, I’ve taken up far too much of your time,” A flash of cyan emanated from beneath his robes and, before Blaze could even understand what was happening, he’d materialised a leg from light and risen to stand tall. His remaining hand was extended down to her, “I’m sure you must be very busy…”
“N-No, I… Venice,” As she took his hand and said that name for the first time, it felt so wrong in her mouth. It absolutely wasn’t his name, “I don’t know what has happened, or even who you truly are, but meeting you…” She scrambled for the right words, “I don’t know what it is, but I feel as if there’s much more to you. I’ve never talked to someone like this, let alone a stranger. We’ve hardly been together half an hour but-
“Th-That’s why I need to go, even that’s too long,” He grumbled before a pulsing hum began to overwhelm his words. He raised his remaining hand and from the ring in his palm a disk of cyan light was projected. With another gesture, it was pushed outwards and Blaze could see a swirling blue vortex within that hole, “I’ve probably stayed with you longer than I should have, I’m sorry.”
“Why did you actually come here? What did you come here to do?” Why was her voice wavering? Why was she getting louder? What did it matter if this stranger left? “You can’t have crossed time and space just to see me, why would you do that?”
“Even if things aren’t perfect, I’m glad you’re safe and comfortable here,” He wasn’t listening to her or, at the very least, he wasn’t acknowledging her words, “Please try to enjoy yourself. If you get the opportunity, please be with your friends more and live the life you want to live. You were…” He managed to look at her again, smiling while his eyes were stained red with tears, “You are brilliant, Blaze. I’m so glad I made it here before the end,” Without turning from her, he stumbled forward and vanished into that void.
Her immediate reflex was to follow but the hole collapsed on itself and vanished in the air, spluttering out his final words, “Good luck,” as it vanished from reality.
Alone on the docks, left with only the sound of the waves and the whistling of wind, Blaze felt something inside her ache in a way she’d never ached before. Who was that figure, why did she care, what had he meant by his end and why had he come? She didn’t feel like she was watching one of her citizens die, she didn’t even feel as she had at Gardon’s funeral; this was alien to her and yet so familiar.
Having only risen to her feet a moment ago, she stumbled back and ended up sitting on the dock again. Ahead of her was the sky that he’d cleared, the sun had just dipped beneath the horizon. It was only a matter of time before his last impact on the world would be blown away, clouds were already encroaching on the space he’d made. He’d be wiped from this world, the ship’s he’d revived for Marine would surely sink again, but, for some reason, that old man had claimed an eternal place within the princess’ soul.
Why that was and who he was she’d surely never know, but she hoped her heart would stop aching soon.
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Ablaze - aka Obi-Wan learns the truth about what happened to Anakin post Mustafar Oneshot
Whatever Obi-Wan had hoped for, it wasn’t this.
He had been convinced when he turned his back on his past, tears blurring his vision as he left Anakin - his brother - behind by the molten lava lake of Mustafar, that that would be the end of it. He had known the twins once born must be hidden, concealed from the Empire and Palpatine. He had held them in his arms, as he watched Padmé’s life leave tear filled her eyes. As he watched her succumb to a broken heart, as her time ran out.
Obi-Wan had hoped that in spite of everything Anakin had done, every deed committed out of some sort of misplaced idea of justice to save his wife, he’d have passed on to find peace. There was the guilt, crippling and heart wrenching as it weighed heavy on his shoulders, looming over him every waking moment. Like a phantom, he wandered lost with only one purpose. One foot on the ground, one already in the grave as he watched over Luke faithfully. It was his only mission, as heeded the Lars’ warnings of not coming too close. Of not getting to know Luke personally. He watched as the boy grew to resemble his father more with each day, bringing back still painful memories of Anakin as a padawan, of Anakin questioning him, initiating arguments yet always returning for comfort and solace.
He had prayed that, much as it had destroyed him, Anakin was finally free from the demons that had plagued him so.
Anakin; who had been lured and manipulated into becoming a disciple of the Dark Side. Anakin; who had always been good, and kind, and just. Anakin; who loved so deeply, so truly that he stifled the air in Obi-Wan’s lungs. His brother, his son, his best friend - all in one. Anakin; whose final resting place lay among ashes, fire and brimstone. Obi-Wan considered it his cross to bear, and perhaps one day, he might have the courage to tell Luke the truth. Once Luke was old enough to understand, and to feign for himself. With the truth, danger would be sure to follow. The eyes of Emperor Palpatine were everywhere.
He had been wrong.
The first time caught wind of rumours regarding some mysterious empirical Enforcer cloaked in black, purging the remaining Jedi from the Galaxy on behalf of the Emperor - he felt sick to the stomach. Nauseous and dazed, losing focus the world became a blur as he casually continued to eavesdrop. He'd caught whiff of the grim news by accident from some bounty hunters normally located off planet, on one of his rare trips to the Cantina of Mos Eisley. At first, he told himself he must have misheard them. But the more he listened, the more he heard, the further the claws of dread sank into him. Suffocating him.
A menace clad all in black, face concealed. A Force wielder, one of the bounty hunters had professed. The other denied the existence of such a thing, but did affirm she too had heard some tall tales from a couple of drunk Imperial cadets, matching the description.
A regular smuggler was quick to chime in, in a foreboding low voice, that speaking of the devil might as well conjure him forward. Obi-Wan should have asked, then. But he couldn’t bear it. He’d prefer being unwise, uncertain as to the identity of this cloaked assassin. Deliberately ignorant by omission. Still, a voice at the back of his mind screamed at him to trust his gut feeling.
So, for a few more months, he buried it. He ignored the inquisitive part of himself, the one wanting desperately to pry and find out more. The one wanting to either reaffirm, or deny, what he was already suspecting. Eventually it got the upper hand. Hood pulled over his head, one night he surrendered to the urge. Travelling by land speeder with the intentions of visiting that same Cantina, back to the same area.
While it was not likely he’d be approaching the same crowd - bounty hunters never stayed long without Jabba the Hutt personally acquiescing - there might be other visitors willing to share their knowledge. Or perhaps suitable victim to coax information out of, via mind control. Against better judgment, Obi Wan found himself considering kidnapping, or at the very least stunning an unsuspecting stormtrooper, simply to pull the soldier away from public eyes for interrogation.
As luck would have it, he needn’t have worried. Ears perked, senses keenly attuned to his surroundings, he was quick to pick up on a rushed, impatient tone. There was a note of distress, of distinct dread radiating from the person speaking. Letting the Force guide him, Obi-Wan found himself drawing near to a small, scrappy docking area on the outskirts of the small city. Three ships anchored neatly aligned, all in beat up condition from bad to worse. The vessels would fly, but not much more. Pacing back and forth by the cargo holder of a battered YT-freighter, was a young twi’lek male. Lekku twitching, sharpened teeth bared. His company consisted only of a human woman, who looked about the same age but less antsy.
“How can you be so sure he won’t find us?”
“Because rumour has it this planet is off his radar,” said the woman, with clear disinterest. “We’ll have time to repair the ships. Turk'll gather up some credits, and then we'll go undercover. The Empi--”
“We’re not talking about the Empire, Oma!” hissed the twi’lek, and Obi-Wan felt the tension of anticipation pouring into his bones, as he pressed his back closely to the wreckage of what was once another clay building.
“It’s all the same, he is no different. He can’t be everywhere at once, surely he must have more important clientele to keep up with. We’re only possible associates at best, and even then he has no evidence.”
“You don’t understand!” the twi’lek raised his voice, before catching himself. "He doesn't need a justifiable reason to give chase!"
In an instant, the man's wide eyed stare darted madly around the location. Obi-Wan waited patiently, seeking aid from the Force to remain unseen and concealed. He had perfected the expert craft of hiding his Force signature, all to stay alert out of sight and mind from the Empire. For four years, it had worked to his favour. Still, he pulled his robes tight around himself, nodding in greeting as a random stranger - a Rodian - passed by in the opposite direction. Obi-Wan was considering wiping the encounter from her memory, but the woman disappeared into the night and it seemed an unnecessary endeavour.
With a hushed tone, the twi’lek piped up again as he inched closer to Oma, his female companion.
“He knows we aided that young Jedi. He knows we docked on I’qka, we’re in the Imperial records. The kid told us himself he was being hunted! Don’t you figure if there’s a kid on a planet that rarely ever receives visits from outside travelers, and this kid disappears with the one ship that has been knowingly recorded, that’s going to raise suspicion?”
“Which is why we’re going to make repairs only on The Japor, and trade this ship in for something more inconspicuous,” said Oma, still as unbothered as before. “You think too much about it, if anyone’s gonna raise suspicion, it’s you with your fidgeting. Pretend you never met the kid, and it’s gonna work out a hell of a lot better for us.”
“No one’s gonna want this junkyard of a ship,” the twi’lek huffed, glancing with a doubtful expression back at their vessel.
“There’s a constant demand for functioning scrap parts here, we’re gonna make a fortune if we pick it apart. Might even trade some parts off to the Jawas. You get in their good graces, and they’ll find you whatever you need.”
“Better be. I just don’t understand… aren’t you afraid of him?”
“It doesn’t matter whether I’m afraid or not, what matters is that we keep running. It’s only a problem if he catches us, and as long as we’re one step ahead, he’s no threat.”
Oma sounded calm and collected, but Obi-Wan could sense a fleeting tinge of dread through the living Force of her bloodstream. He could sense her palpitated heartbeats, sense her shortness of breath. He must condone their bravery however; hiding and assisting a Jedi fugitive under the Empire’s nose was high treason, punishable only by death penalty. Helping a Jedi was just as bad as being one, and the two must have been aware of that when they decided to act out of compassion. He couldn’t do much to aid their flight or ensure their safety, given the risk of blowing his own cover and subsequently Luke’s, but he was going to ask the Force be with and guide them. He hoped it’d be enough. Perhaps the Jedi was someone he knew, so he would wish him too a safe haven.
“So, we just keep running forever and hope he never catches us?”
The twi’lek sounded dejected, his lekku twitching in distress as he padded over to slump down to sit on the lowered landing pad. Obi-Wan felt his sadness as clearly as were it his own, even as Oma placed a hand on his shoulder to offer what appeared to be a supportive squeeze.
“Isn’t that what we do best? Let’s just hope the kid will get by and find a safe place to stay. That would make it all worth it, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, but if… if he comes after us, at least we’ll know he probably hasn’t found the kid. He’d need us alive, right?”
“Right,” Oma nodded, although that possibility didn’t seem to particularly put her at ease.
Obi-Wan sighed softly.
If the rumours of the Empire’s treatment of traitors was anything to go by, he’d presume a swift death was to prefer. More than one person had whispered of torture, and torment to force an approved testimony out of prisoners. It was frightening, how low the morals of those in power had stooped in such a short amount of time, since the fall of the Galactic Republic.
He had fought bravely in The Clone Wars for freedom, for justice. Was this his reward? Was this what the Jedi and their troops had laid down their lives to preserve? Then, on the other hand, Anakin too had been adamant to protect freedom. Had been adamant to end slavery, never able to overcome his own traumatic childhood raised on this burning sand planet as a slave to Watto. Mournfully, Obi-Wan regretted that he had never taken the time to speak about that experience in depth with Anakin. Regretted that he had not trusted Anakin’s visions of Shmi’s death. Perhaps, if his mother had lived, he would have resisted Palpatine’s lure.
It all came back to Anakin.
Every waking moment, Obi-Wan's mind would wander aimlessly until memories of familiar, mischievous blue eyes flashed before his inner vision. When he slept; nightmares of Mustafar, the stench of burning flesh and shrieks of anguish haunted him. Pleas for help, begging for him to come back. Begging him to stay. Every time, Obi-Wan tried to will himself to stay. Longing to turn back around, to hurry to Anakin’s side. To hold him in his arms, as they both perished in a burst of flames and embers. Instead, he had no control of his own limbs as he walked away. The sound of Anakin’s pained howls, and the gurgling noise that replaced them as the heat withered away his esophagus ringing in his ears.
“Are you afraid?”
Obi-Wan startled, at first convinced that the voice had spoken directly to him. He blinked his eyes, looking up only to realize it was Oma who had broken the silence. The twi’lek craned his neck to glance up at her, her dark eyes unreadable in the distant light spilling out of the freighter they called home. The twi’lek exhaled heavily; only to offer a sharp nod, eyes once more scanning their surroundings as if he’d been reminded of their vulnerable state.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“If he was so intent on killing a kid, what’s to say he’d hesitate to kill us just out of spite? I...” he paused momentarily, tone almost inaudible as he spoke again and if Obi-Wan hadn’t been so attuned to their conversation, he would have missed it.” I know people opposed to the Empire. They’re… attempting to align. To form some sort of resistance. Either way, a childhood friend of mine, M’naaka, works in close contact with their organizations.”
Oma only nodded to confirm she was listening, but he expression spoke of curiosity. It was clear she had never heard of this before.
“So, M’naaka has never met him directly, but--” the young twi’lek’s head shot up abruptly, his entire body strung out like a prey animal sensing the close proximity of a predator.
When nothing happened, no ambush forthcoming - Oma herself beginning to look increasingly uneasy - he settled back down into his tale.
“But she’s heard from her companions. They say that if Vader’s got reason to keep you in his sight, you’ve already lost.”
‘Henceforth, you shall be down as Darth… Vader.’
No.
No.
“Vader has bigger problems to cater to, if what you’re telling me about your friend’s contacts is true.”
Vader.
The name left Obi-Wan cold - the same sickness of that first mention of an assassin of the Empire cloaked in shadow had brought forth. The nausea returning, head spinning. He had pleaded with Master Yoda years ago, as they rid the ransacked and destroyed Jedi Temple of clone intruders, pressing that he must watch the holographic surveillance recordings. That he must see who had massacred their peers; the people he had grown up with, the only family he had ever known. The only life he knew, laid to waste. Children chopped to pieces, young men and women cut down in their prime. Whoever he had imagined to be the perpetrator, it was not Anakin.
Even now, he couldn’t believe Anakin could be capable of such vile acts. Yet, the holograms didn’t lie.
Now the sinking feeling Obi-Wan had experienced in that horrifying moment - as he'd watched Anakin kneel obediently before the now revealed true identity of Sith Lord, Darth Sidious - had returned tenfold. The sorrow.
He'd watched Anakin take on the mantle of Darth Vader; apprentice and second in command only to Palpatine himself. He'd watched all his hopes for his former padawan as a young Jedi crumble to ashes, scattered to the wind. Molding to become one with the sand dunes of Tatooine nightfall as he was brought back to present day. The bitter cold of the air was matched only by the block of ice forming in his chest cavity. He shut his eyes, swallowing against the lump in his throat.
The memory was still fresh, still vivid and tangible. Anakin, body set ablaze. Eyes a sickly yellow; bloodshot and animalistic as he poured the full intensity of his rage, his hate, his fear into the already heavy, charged air of Mustafar. His clothes, his hair, his skin aflame. Obi-Wan could not bear to watch the man he had loved as his own brother succumb. He abandoned him. Had left it up to the Force. He had assumed that the Force would take pity on Anakin - the man who was supposed to be The Chosen One - despite the monster he had become.
There were so many question, nothing made sense anymore.
How?
How had Anakin lived? Why? What must he look like? What agony must he be in? How might anyone survive being set afire? Obi-Wan had assumed that Maul was alone in his conviction, his ability to feed off of the Dark Side to sustain himself despite his mortal wounds. Had Anakin relied on similar tactics? Where was he now? Was there anything left of the man Obi Wan had raised and mentored? Did he know where to find his former master? Was he coming for him?
Vader. Of course.
Who else would be so consumed by spite, as to hunt innocent Jedi children to purge? Who else could be so petty, so insidious, so self absorbed? Anakin had been good, at heart. He’d been flawed, he’d been human. He’d been lying, he’d bent the rules, he’d become too attached. But he’d been well meaning, he’d been gentle and loyal and caring.
The shadow that had taken his place seemed to feed off of death, as if the blood on his hands made no difference to him. And why would it? Obi-Wan had seen the children lying lifeless on the cold stone floors of the Temple halls. In that moment, he had known there was no saving Anakin. He had refused to kill Anakin, had been adamant Master Yoda go in his stead. Anything at all, but that. In the end, he was left with no choice. Left with a naive belief, that maybe he could help Padmé bring Anakin back to sanity. Help him see reason. In the end, it was all for naught. In the end, Padmé faded away to become one with the Force. Leaving behind Anakin's estranged children; children he must never be made aware of.
Anakin died that day.
The Anakin Skywalker Obi-Wan had known, burned to dust upon shores of ash. The man reemerging in his place was changed; twisted, evil and unrecognizable. The man who had taken his place was but a pawn of the Emperor, serving his master’s bidding at his beck and call as a slave. There could be no other explanation. The man in Anakin's place had nothing left to live for, no one left to save.
Why hadn’t Anakin told him about Padmé? He must have known it was an open secret. He must have known Obi-Wan had already suspected it for several years. How could he hesitate? How could he stubbornly go on, wrestling in silence with his own fears and the expectations placed upon him by outside forces? How could he find Palpatine a better confidant?
Padmé had died, and Anakin with her. And with Anakin’s death followed a part of Obi-Wan.
As he swallowed down the stone cold terror of truth welling up in his chest, biting back an inexplicable urge to weep over the pitiful fate that had befallen his brother in arms - Obi-Wan somehow found enough strength for his legs to carry him back to his land speeder. Enough energy to take him home; home to safety and solace, where he may still serve his purpose of guiding and watching over Luke.
A man like Vader would not hesitate to twist Anakin’s son into something as cruel, and vicious, and unyielding as himself. But despite the fact that Obi-Wan refused to acknowledge Vader as Anakin, refused to believe Anakin had ever possessed the ability to overstep the line so grievously - deep down, in his heart, he knew it was a poor man's comfort. But if he dared set it the truth free, dared allow himself to dwell upon it, he feared he too would lose his mind.
Deep down, he knew that the love he had harbored for the boy had never been enough. It seemed, he had never really known Anakin at all.
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I always did want to write something like this, a piece where Obi Wan tackles the realization that Anakin is still alive under the mantle of Darth Vader. Here's my take, until canon inevitably offers us an official version, of a possible look at that. I had fun writing Obi Wan though, and his denial of Anakin's true self as a juxtaposition to Ahsoka's acceptance of the truth.
If you ship Obikin, you can always look at it that way too. It is written to be canon compliant, however!
Enjoy!
Link below to the Ao3 post, and subsequently my account:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636756
Lose Companion to Lifeline:
https://stuffilikeipostno2.tumblr.com/post/634787175881474048/lifeline-ahsoka-reaching-out-for-anakin-post
https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578304
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More Than Words (Twenty-Eight)
Ho ho holy crap did this chapter get long. Like the rough draft hit over 11k words?? I love it though. Love Wade in the future/present, love the people he finds again, love the scene with Hank and Tony and of course, love love that ending!
MASTERLIST HERE
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The docks were abandoned along this part of the East River, the buildings falling to pieces and the twisting alleys the sort of place no one wanted to be caught alone in. The river stank here, slow moving and sluggish and wafting the smell of the city through punched out windows and falling down doors. Trash was left wherever it fell, rats didn’t bother to hide in shadows and corners and fuck Cable hated this town, this timeline and all the awful things about it. 
The joints and gears in his left arm whirred and strained as they re-calibrated to balance two hundred plus pounds of dead weight Alpha, and Cable grunted as he tried to balance Wade in his arms while shouldering through a heavy door. 
This particular warehouse looked abandoned from the outside but the inside was clean and sheltered from the weather and river stink and that was all that really mattered. Cable visited this timeline as little as possible and lingered even less, but he still needed a half decent hideaway. The only good thing about this time line was the technology available to improvise repairs or restock ammunition, and this place was as good as any other to to rest, replenish and in this case-- stash an unexpected body.
The massive empty space had been converted into a utilitarian living space, no frills, no mess, absolutely nothing unnecessary. Cable had turned the upstairs office into a bedroom and bathroom, built a small but functional kitchen beneath the metal stairs, and left a smattering of couches, chairs and various gear around the rest of the floor. Each door had a series of locks and barricades across it, the most secure door opened via password and optical scans, and in the worst case scenarios, the entire place would lock down and spray gas on whoever had made the grave mistake of breaking into Cable’s territory. 
It was certainly not fancy, but it was safe and it would do for now. 
“Hey.” A voice from one of the chairs in the shadow of the walls, low and soft and familiar. “Hey, is that him? Is that Wade?” 
“You expecting me to bring anyone else to this shit hole?” Cable was careful to keep any bite from his tone even though his lip curled up in annoyance. “Move your pack so I can lay him out.” 
The Omega moved forward on heavy feet, shoulders tense and eyes narrowed in Cable’s direction as he approached. “Is he alright?” 
“Dunno yet.” 
It had taken the better part of an entire day to track down this particular mutant, and not even Cable’s telepathic abilities had found any trace of the near-feral Omega anywhere near where he’d expected. This timeline had been hard to it’s mutants and even twenty years into the twenty first century, those who could afford to stay invisible simply stayed invisible. 
It was odd though, to see the difference between the Omega now and how he’d been just the day before--the century before?--  when Cable had seen him in Haven. Back then the Omega had walked lightly, smiled easily for his mate and though he always scented wild, there had always been a sweeter edge that marked him as Omega, the bolder ribbons that marked him as mated. 
Now the Omega smelled like wild and danger and steel, his gait almost lumbering until he broke into runs of astonishing speeds, his fists perpetually clenched because his hands were too heavy to simply hang at his sides. The scowl was permanent, the surly attitude all the worse for what the decades had done to him and even though there wasn’t an ounce of fear in the Omega’s eyes, Cable still knew him well enough to know he was worried. 
“Weird for you?” the mutant asked as he set the other Alpha down lengthwise on the couch. “To see him like this, I mean.” 
“You mean is it weird to know my friend disappeared some fuck’all number of years ago and now I’m looking at him again?” the Omega raised one eyebrow in what might have been sarcasm in an otherwise blank expression. “What do you think?” 
“Well s’bout to get weirder.” Cable stated, and reached down to pull his cloak from Wade’s face and head. “The journey wasn’t real kind to him.” 
“Shit.” the big Omega knelt by Wade’s side and ran hesitant fingers along the patchwork lines of raised scars and ruined skin covering the mutants body. “Jesus, what the hell happened to him? Looks like he was torn apart a bunch of different times and stitched back together. I thought you were gonna protect him!” 
Cable swallowed back a wash of guilt and muttered, “I promised to protect his mind but time travel is rough and I didn’t know how it would affect his body. Doc Banner’s biology shut down completely when I yanked him, I had no idea what Wade’s would do.” 
“He’s lucky he survived.” the other mutant whispered. “Gotta hurt like a bitch.” 
“That’s why I kept him unconscious.” Cable said grimly, “He wouldn’t stop screaming so I tapped into his psyche and shut it down. Dunno if he’s survived yet or not but I have to wake him soon to make sure his mental faculties survived the trip. You ready to help in case he flips out? A familiar face might do him some good.” 
“A familiar face.” the Omega finally cracked the tiniest smile. “Don’t think my face is the one he wants to see. Last thing he said was that he was going to find his mate, he’ll be real pissed you brought him here and not to his Omega.” 
“I’ve got to make sure he’ll keep it together long enough to get to his mate.” Cable flattened his palm to Wade’s forehead and concentrated on removing the blocks he’d put up in the Alpha’s mind. “Couldn’t bring him right to the kid. What if he wakes up raving mad or half gone feral or in too much pain to do much more than scream? Don’t want to do that to his mate.” 
“Think his mate might be the one screaming when he catches sight of all this.” the Omega gestured to Wade’s skin again, to the bold scars and heavy lines and patchwork attempts at healing. “Wade’s never been a pretty Alpha but he’s never been this bad. Looks like something awful did something awful to something else awful.” 
“Eloquent and completely unhelpful.” Cable said shortly. “Get up here and get close so he can see you.” the Omega moved and Cable hastened to add, “Not too close though, Omega. Be careful.” 
“Not a whole lot that hurts me these days.” the Omega made a fist, then raised his middle finger pointedly. “Not real worried about my buddy breaking any bones.” 
“Grief makes monsters of us all.” the mutant pulled away from Wade to make room. “He put me through a damn log wall in a fit of mate sickness, we don’t know what he could do now with this much hurt running through him.”
“Not real worried.” the Omega repeated, and then to Wade, “Wake up you son of a bitch. You got a mate to find and some skin cream to buy and hell--” another one of those tiny smiles. “-- hell I’ve been waiting a damn century and some change to see if you made it this far so hurry up and open your eyes.” 
First came the Alpha’s scent, weak cedar and thready licorice that grew steadily stronger as Wade left the coma behind and came towards consciousness. Then a bolt of distress sharp enough to make the Omega whimper as Wade’s body lit up with pain, his back arching and fingers scrabbling at the couch upholstery as his ravaged skin and torn nerves seized, jolts of agony skittering through his veins and shocking at his heart. 
“Shit.” Cable muttered when Wade’s mouth opened in a wordless, wounded cry and the hazel eyes burst bright red and panicked as the Alpha tried to figure out what hurt and why it hurt and where the hell he was. 
“Easy easy easy.” The Omega rushed forward and grabbed onto Wade’s forearms, holding the Alpha down and steady so he could lean close and force the hazy gaze to focus on him. “Wade. Wade! You with us? You with me? Look at me, Wade look at me right here. Hey hey hey you’re alright. You’re alright.” 
Every muscle in Wade’s body went tense as he prepared to fight away from whoever was holding him down so the Omega set his jaw and just held tighter. He was big, but no matter his modifications and mostly feral spirit there was still no way he could hold back a raging Alpha. His only hope would be to knock Wade out again before either one got hurt and he didn’t know what a solid clonk across the head would do to his friend so soon after time travel. 
“Wade.” he growled in frustration. “Settle down so I don’t gotta punch ya! Settle down!” 
There were the fangs, wicked and curving as the Alpha jerked against the hold and snarled, a howl starting deep in his chest as his mind failed to come online and pure instinct took over--
--but then--
--”L-Logan?” 
The red eyes flattened back to hazel, cedar and licorice bumping first with confusion, then disbelief. “Logan? S’that you?” 
“Hey.” Logan didn’t let go but his hold on Wade’s arm gentled as he tried for a real smile for his long lost friend. “Bout time you showed up. Been waiting like a hundred and fifty years.” 
“A hundred and fifty years.” Struggling to stay alert and coherent, Wade licked at his dry lips as his gaze darted around the warehouse before landing at Cable and bouncing back to the Omega. “Does that mean-- did it work? Is this my mate’s timeline?” 
“This is your mate’s timeline.” Logan confirmed quietly. “Welcome to the future.” 
“Damn it.” The Alpha shuddered as a fresh wave of discomfort bubbled through his center. “Damn it, this is-- why do I hurt so bad?” 
Logan opened his mouth to reply, but Wade cut him off with, “And why does my future include you? Went a hundred and fifty years forward to get away from your ass, how are you here?” 
“Good to see your sparkling personality wasn’t damaged.” Logan retorted, and Wade snapped back, “It was time travel, not a miracle, Logan.” 
“Yeah that’s true.” the Omega’s throat jerked as he swallowed, and he lay a careful careful hand at the base of Wade’s neck, leaned in to push their foreheads together and trilled in quiet relief when the Alpha gripped at him with tight affection.
 A hundred and fifty years Logan had wondered what had happened to his friend, gone through decades of double taking when he saw someone who might be Wade, moments of frustration when he realized he didn’t know how far forward Cable had taken the Alpha from Haven, or if Wade had even survived the trip. 
After Haven had burned and Logan had buried Clint behind their home, after Bruce and Eddie had fled somewhere far away from the accusations of monsters and demons, after Logan’s entire life had changed and he found himself alone without friends, without his brother and without his mate he would have given anything just to know what happened to Wade, much less to see him again.
There was shared camaraderie in knowing someone else understood what it meant to outlive everyone you loved, there was relief knowing that someone else had once woken up the only person alive on a battlefield of horrors, healing time and time again from wounds that would have ended a lesser man and less powerful mutant. Logan had been left solitary in a society rapidly changing to hate his kind, a world that seemed to get smaller every time technology took a leap forward and when Cable had called just the other day and asked him to come to Queens to help with Wade-- 
-- well the Omega had put aside decades of misgivings about the city, about humans, about Cable, and rushed down from the border mountains to get here. He almost hadn’t believed Cable would actually show up, but here the mutant was with one of Logan’s oldest friends and for the first time in a long time, the world felt like it was shifting back towards right again. 
 “M’real glad to see you, Wade.” he finally finished, and the Alpha nodded against him. “Swear t’hell I never thought I’d be happy to see your ugly mug, but damn. Damn I’m glad you’re here.” 
“Just once I’d like you to say something nice to me without adding an insult at the end.” Wade was shaking now, the hurt getting too strong to ignore, the effects of time travel leaving him drained, exhausted. “Just once. Tell me you’re happy to see me without calling me ugly.” 
“Never.” Logan said decisively, but he tipped his head and crooned when the Alpha’s shaking got worse. “Hey hey hey, it’s going to be okay, alright? You made it and it’s-- it’s going to be okay.” 
He looked over Wade’s shoulder to find Cable, who was watching with a grim expression and yellow eye flickering as it scanned Wade’s body to take bio-metric readings. 
“It’s going to be okay.” the Omega repeated, and Cable gave a short, begrudging nod. 
They couldn’t tell for sure yet of course, but it looked like everything had worked out. The Alpha had made it through the journey in one piece, his snark and sarcasm was firmly in place so at least most of Wade’s mind had survived, and while his scent was currently shredded with pain, the cedar and licorice notes were strong and steady. 
It was going to be okay. Wade was going to be reunited with his mate and maybe then the guilt would stop eating Cable from the inside out. 
It was going to be okay. 
***************
***************
It took a solid hour for the itch and burn of Wade’s newly awful skin to subside enough to be tolerable, and even then the Alpha’s fingers still shook as he traced over and over the layers of scars. He’d been violently sick in the bathroom when he’d caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and yes, the nausea could be attributed to having been ripped forward a century and a half, yes it could be attributed to the way Wade’s senses were operating dialed to eleven-- too much input all at once, far too fast for his brain to ingest and comprehend. 
There were a number of reasons for the Alpha to be sick into the porcelain bowl but the worst reason was the horror clanging round in Wade’s mind and keeping his eyes shut tight against what he was seeing. 
Wade was a horror show now, and his Omega wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him. He had never been pretty, but now he was hideous. It had been a long time since Wade had put any thought into his looks but today he cracked the mirror with his fist because he didn’t recognize the red eyed monster staring back at him through the glass.
Peter would scream when he saw him, and that would break the Alpha to pieces.  
“I told you I’d protect your mind.” Cable reappeared from a quiet conference with Logan, watching as Wade drew over the lifted lines and ragged edges time and time again. “I didn’t know this would happen, but I figured so long as I could keep your sanity intact, it wouldn’t matter what your body went through.” 
“Besides, wasn’t like you were ever pretty, this isn’t even half bad.” Logan had been an asshole back in Haven and he was an asshole now, but his bump at Wade’s shoulder was light and he pressed close on the couch until they were thigh to thigh and some of the Alpha’s trembling eased next to the comforting scent of an Omega. “And your mate loves you, he won’t notice anything. If he does notice, he won’t care. We never care what our Alphas look like so long as they hold us the same.” 
“You smell stupid.” Wade changed the subject before he broke down, folding his arms and huddling further under the blanket so he could hide the urge to scream. “Why do you smell like that? Like metal and-- and I dunno. Heavy. You smell heavy.” 
“Probably cos of these.” Logan lifted his hand and clenched his fist and Wade jumped when instead of the skin crawling schhhhhhtk of bone claws sliding free, three metal blades schwinged out from the Omega’s knuckles and snapped into shape in the air. 
“What the fuck?” The shock of his skin and need to scream pushed aside, Wade reached out to touch on of the razor sharp edges, mouthing a curse when his finger split along the blade and then healed right back over. “What did you do?” 
And then with a quick check of the misery reflected in the Omega’s eyes, Wade corrected, “Who did it to you?” 
“Some asshole by the name of Stryker.” Logan put the claws away and rotated his wrist so Wade could hear the pop of not flesh grinding in the bone socket. “I’d like to say I was naive and didn’t realize what he was asking, but the truth is I didn’t think I had anything left to lose so I signed up for his shop of fuckin’ horrors.” 
“Shit.” 
“Be glad you got zapped forward and didn’t have to go through everything the rest of us did.” the Omega said quietly. “It got real shitty in Haven a few years after you disappeared and damn Wade, things just never got better. This world doesn’t like our kind unless we’re fighting their wars or funding their science and even then we aren’t much more than dirt in their eyes.” 
“So is the shiny new hardware for war or for science?” Wade wanted to know and Logan’s scent slid sour as he answered, “They wanted me for both. I ran away so now I’m neither. The metal is all through my body and I’m damn near indestructible so that’s something at least. Can cut through anything you think of, head butt like a champ and nothing shuts down an argument like flippin’ them the bird with one of these things.” 
“Huh.” Wade tried for a smirk. “Well I heard the couch springs begging for mercy when you sat down. What do you weigh these days? Half a ton?” 
“You really gonna fuss at me about my weight?” Logan snorted. “Wanna see if your super healing can handle a punch now that I’ve got a perma-set of brass knuckles?” 
The Alpha grinned and snarked right back, “All this shiny hardware and you’re still a brawler, still a half feral son of a --” 
“Don’t talk to my mate like that.” the security door of the building opened and shut to let another Alpha through and Wade’s eyes flew open wide when Clint hurried over to haul Logan off the couch and up into his arms. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing cozying up to my mate? Lo, you okay?” 
Clint. 
Wade forgot to answer, too busy staring at the only one of his friends from Haven he knew wouldn’t have survived this long. All mutants had something of a healing factor, but Clint had been pushing middle aged by the time Wade had said goodbye so there was no way the winged mutant was still around. 
But here he was, large as life and just as protective of his Omega as he’d always been, eyes flashing red and teeth bared in a snarl and--
--and oh. No, that wasn’t quite right. This Clint wasn’t exactly the Clint Wade used to know, was he?
The Alpha currently nuzzling at Logan’s neck and trilling in response to whatever the Omega whispered back was a little taller than Wade remembered, the blue eyes a little more intense. There were no fangs, none of the scars at the Alpha’s knuckles from years with his bow. Most obvious was the lack of visible wings, but at this angle Wade could just barely see inked feathers along the other Alpha’s arms and disappearing beneath his shirt collar to most likely extend down his back. 
The ink shimmered too much to be plain, the delicately drawn feathers shifting and moving with every breath the Alpha took, and Wade’s smile was equal parts grateful and awed when he finally figured it out. “Didn’t get the whole feather deal this time around huh? Big ol’ wings too conspicuous for this timeline?” 
“The feathers come and go.” Clint retorted, a fraction of suspicion in his voice as a few inked feathers took on dimension and lifted off his forearms to flutter before settling again. “And yeah the humans tend don’t like me walking around with wings out. You get it, you probably don’t go out without a damn mask, huh?” 
The Alpha didn’t mean any harm with his blase comment, but Wade grimaced away anyway and Logan muttered, “The scarring happened in the time travel, my mate. It’s not how he usually looks.” 
“Oh shit.” Clint’s windy scent swooped in remorse. “Shit, I’m sorry. I thought you were--” he gestured to his own face. “You know, mutants. The ones with scales  cover up so I thought maybe--” 
Wade cleared his throat and shook his head, covering a jolt of newly sharp self consciousness with the motion. “S’alright. You didn’t know.” 
“Right. Cos I’m not the same Clint you used to be friends with.” Clint nosed over Logan's cheek and then lightly pushed his Omega away, moving closer to crouch in front of the sofa and get a better look at Wade. “Lo says you’re an un-killable asshole and I always one-upped you in everything.” 
“Lo’s a damn liar.” Wade grunted and the feathers on Clint’s arms shimmered as he laughed. “Good to see the two of you together again. Or--or still.” 
“Every lifetime, apparently.” the other Alpha confirmed. “Guess it’s all one lifetime to you and my mate, but this is at least the second time I’ve come around.” 
“Time travel thing freak you out?” Wade wanted to know, and Clint countered, “Nah. I’ve seen some weird shit in my day. What’s freaking me out is how calm you are considering this--” another motion around his face. “-- is new and that somehow you came all this way through time and aren’t halfway to buck wild trying to get to your mate. What’s going on, you okay?” 
My mate. A surge of longing had Wade screwing his eyes shut tight and clenching his fist, trying and failing to quiet a growl. “Can’t even hardly stand.” he bit out. “Gotta have my feet under me before I can see my Omega.” 
“The hell with that.” Clint snorted, and snapped his fingers at Cable. “Hey! Why can’t Wade see his mate? Bring the Omega here or do that time slidey thing and take Wade over there. What’s the hold up?”
“He needs to sleep first.” the mutant spoke for the first time in several minutes, eyes flickering again as he took another reading of Wade’s vitals. “Wade, you need at least a solid twelve hours of sleep, longer if you can manage it. Journeying takes a toll on a body and you’ve got more to heal from than we expected. Sleep.” 
“I don’t want to sleep.” Wade pushed away the choking fear that Peter would think he was ugly and insisted, “I want to see my mate. Give me a minute to get my legs under me and stop feelin’ nauseous and let’s go.” 
“You need to sleep.” Cable didn’t budge an inch. “I’ll force you down if I have to, but it’s more restorative if you just let your body relax. Then I’ll take you to see Doctor Pym so he can run a few tests and make sure you aren’t a day from imploding or melting or anything else terrible that can happen when you jump into a timeline other than your own.” 
“Plus there’s a whole lot you need to learn about this world.” Logan interjected. “Suppressants and blockers so you don’t freak anyone out. Caps for your fangs so you don’t scare the Omegas. We can figure out something for your skin, you’ll need clothes and a chance for your body to acclimate to the new food here-- I looked some stuff up waiting for Cable to arrive. There’s a lot you should know, Wade. Lots has changed.”
“All I need to know is where my mate is.” the Alpha struggled to his feet, and Clint muffled a curse when he got a good look at the devastation of Wade’s bare torso. “Just tell me where he is so I can find him.” 
“Wade.” Cable tried again, talking over Wade’s frustrated growl. “You can’t just walk around out there, not looking and scenting like you do. Mutants aren’t-- they don’t exist in this timeline, alright? You can’t just go out there, you’ll cause a panic.” 
“M’looking at three mutants right now, what the hell do you mean we don’t exist!?” 
“We all stay hidden.” Clint instinctively flattened his palm to the small of Wade’s back when the Alpha wavered on his feet and fell back onto the couch. “Me and Lo never come down from our property unless it’s an emergency. The school in Westchester is shrouded from the humans by a telepathic field and only a select few know about it. Everyone uses blockers and suppressants and the mutants use extra strength ones so our scent doesn’t give us away.” 
“Okay but--” 
“They hunted us down and killed us, Wade.” Logan cut back in and Wade’s mouth clicked shut with an audible pop. “Rounded us up on trains and shipped us to death camps. Ran through neighborhoods and killed anyone who resisted. About fifty years ago in this timeline, the mutants all decided to just disappear and for the most part, we’ve been in hiding ever since.” 
“Your mate was researching the disappearances and trying to find the truth.” Cable added. “That’s how he met me. Humans in this timeline think we’re gone, and it’s better to leave it that way.” 
Wade was quiet as he tried to process their words, running his tongue over his fangs thoughtfully and pressing at the edge of one particularly bad scar directly down his arm. He looked up at Logan and Clint-who-wasn’t-quite-Clint and then over at Cable who looked ready to tackle him if he didn’t go to sleep right that instant. 
“I’ve got to see my mate.” he finally said. “That all-- that all sucks. And I sorta remember Pete telling me that he’d never met a mutant cos we weren’t around anymore but I don’t care how I scent or what people think. They’re welcome to try and come at me, anyone who gets between me and my mate right now is gonna get their head torn off.” 
“It’s not that easy.” 
“It is always that easy!” the Alpha snarled, and the table cracked beneath the force of his fist. “You said you couldn’t guarantee me much time here and I’m real happy to see you guys--” he managed a half smile towards Clint and Logan. “-- but you’re not who I’m here to be with. Cable. Take me to my mate now. I’ve been awake at least a couple hours now so let’s go.” 
“First you sleep, then you see the doctor, then you see your mate.” Cable didn’t so much as flinch away from a flash of fangs. “You do this the right way or I’ll force you back into a coma. Don’t be stupid about it.” 
“Cable--” 
“I didn’t bring you all the way here for you to fuck it up and die cos you won’t listen!” the mutants voice echoed through the warehouse, a growl rumbling at the end of the words. “Not gonna let you scar your mate by dying in front of him cos you didn’t want to wait and do some damn tests! You will go to sleep--” 
Wade started forward and snarled and Cable nearly roared-- “You will go to sleep or I will put you to sleep like a goddamn dog, Wade! I feel guilty enough about all this, you will not make it worse by dying!” 
Guilty. 
Logan’s eyes went very wide and Clint’s brow lowered as he glanced between the two other Alphas. “What does that mean, you feel guilty enough? What did you have to do with any of this?” 
“It’s my fault that Omega ended up in Haven in the first place.” Cable didn’t break his stare down with Wade. “I went to warn him about investigating the mutants, things got out of hand and he ended up grabbing onto my time travel device. It’s always set to 1872 Haven because that’s when my--” 
He stopped, jaw working as he tried to calm down. “It’s my fault he was ever there. And I had to correct that by taking him away and I’m sorry about it, alright? I’m sorry you found him and sorry that you lost him but I had to save him and the only way I could was to bring him home. The only way to save you was to bring you here too and I know you want to see your Omega but I’m not taking you there until I know you’re going to survive long enough not to ruin his life, do you understand? I won’t take you to him just so you can die right there on the floor.” 
“Wade met his mate because of an accidental time travel?” Clint whispered to his mate and Logan whispered back, “It’s a long story.” 
“Go to sleep, or I’ll drop your ass into a coma and do all the tests while you’re unconscious.” the mutant ground out. “This is for your own good, for the good of your Omega and so help me God I will not be made to feel guilty about one more thing for your obnoxious ass. My conscience will be clear after this.” 
There was a tense moment of silence, Clint and Logan holding their breath while Wade’s lip curled up in a snarl and Cable leaned his weight forward with an answering growl but finally finally, Wade put his hands up and sat back onto the couch and the moment released with a whoosh. 
“Good.” Cable looked visibly relieved. He was still sore from being thrown through that goddamn cabin wall and he didn’t relish another run around with the mate-sick Alpha. “I have to take care of a few things and I’ll be back for you. Clint, you and your mate be sure he doesn’t leave.” 
“He’ll get three steps out that door, smell the river and the pollution and come right back.” Logan decided with a friendly-yet-staying hand at Wade’s shoulder. “We’re fine. Leave before you keep stressin’ us out.” 
Cable paused and met Wade’s eyes just one more time, waiting for the Alpha to nod before he moved on. 
It would be okay. 
Somehow all of this would be okay. 
*************
*************
Wade slept for nineteen hours while Logan kept watch, and when the Omega got tired Clint took over monitoring the other Alpha’s pulse and breathing to be sure he didn’t slip too far under and never make it back around. 
At the nineteen hour mark, Wade woke up screaming for his Omega, eyes screwed shut and mouth open in a heart broken cry. Logan recoiled from the noise, turning his back and hunching his shoulders because even after all the horrors he’d seen and torture he’d been through at Stryker’s hands the scent of an Alpha in pain-- an Alpha he cared about-- still made him want to throw up. 
Clint let his wings up from his skin and flared them out to cover Wade in comfort, golden brown ink forming to feathers and piecing together before laying over the distraught Alpha in a thick blanket. When that didn’t help enough, the mutant put careful hands on Wade’s chest and bent close to rumble in the Alpha’s ear until Wade finally settled. Seven hours later when Wade woke up fully, he muttered a quiet, “Thank you.” to other Alpha and Clint let his wings flutter free in a quiet response. 
“This is a blocker.” After Wade had managed some food, Logan sat down across from him with a pile of pills and sorted them out on the table. “It mutes other people’s scents and emotions so you don’t get too affected. Out in public and an Omega has a panic attack? Usually that would send every Alpha in the area into a protective frenzy but the blockers make sure you don’t lose your mind over it. Another Alpha rages out for some reason and the blockers make sure you don’t react and start a brawl in the middle of the street.” 
Wade nodded and the Omega held up the next one. “This is a suppressant, it keeps you muted so other people can’t read you too close. Blue for blocker keeps you calm, yellow for suppressant keeps others calm. You take both, every single day.” 
“For how long?” Wade eyed the pills suspiciously. “How long do I gotta take them?” 
“Every day.” Logan repeated. “For the rest of your life. These big white ones are what the mutants take when we come into the city or just out into real crowded places. Double the dose and I’ve got to take two of them at a time cos my system eats it up too quick. You’ll have to do the same.” 
“The hell--” 
“Mutant smells different than Alpha.” Clint cut in. “And you smell wild like Lo and I do. You smell hurt and like you don’t fit in-- you gotta mask it or people will start acting real weird. Take the double dose.” 
Wade stared down at the medication and tried not to let his voice shake when he asked, “But what if my mate doesn’t recognize me?” 
He didn’t like this, didn’t like feeling so out of his element and so out of his world. 
When Peter had come to Haven, Wade had been perfectly comfortable letting the Omega into his life and the way Peter had reacted to all the necessary adjustments had been almost funny. Screeching about being a vegan because he didn’t know chickens only lay one egg at a time. Insisting that Wade explain trapping and hunting because Peter was worried it was inhumane. All the times the Omega’s eyes had gone wide and cheeks turned scarlet when he could read Wade’s scent and know the Alpha needed him. 
Wade had handled Peter’s questions with a laugh and light assurances, he’d settled most of his mate’s frustrations and insecurities with a quick kiss or an extra long hug and Peter had fit so easily into Wade’s day to day that after a few weeks Wade had forgotten the Omega didn’t actually belong. 
When Wade had packed a bag and left Haven behind he’d never put any thought into whether or not he’d fit into Peter’s world. He hadn’t thought about the technology Peter used to mention or the suppressants the Omega had referenced or the life Peter had left behind that he had talked about missing.  He had never considered that Peter’s life might have moved on once he returned to this timeline and that maybe the Omega wouldn’t have room for an old fashioned mutant Alpha anymore.
All Wade had thought about as Cable tore him through space and time was how badly he wanted to gather his Omega up over his heart, how sweet Peter’s purr would be when they got to scent each other again, the tang of aphrodisia on his tongue when he got to mark his mate again and again and again. 
But this? Avoiding mirrors because of the mess on his face and dodging pitying glances neither Clint nor Logan managed to hide? The uncomfortable that ran beneath his skin and throbbed in his veins, the itch that never seemed to settle, the noise of a city outside the warehouse doors that was larger than he could possibly imagine, filled with more people he had ever seen, every single one of them expecting Wade to take this mountain of medications simply to be acceptable?
No. Wade hadn’t thought about this at all, he hadn’t expected this at all and for the first time he felt a pang of sorrow for his mate and those first difficult weeks in Haven. 
So sorry, my Omega. I had no idea. 
“What if my mate doesn’t recognize me?” he asked again, and this time there was no disguising the fear in his voice, the way his breath caught and the words shook. “I don’t look the same, I don’t fit into this whole thing, what if I block my scent and he doesn’t know me and then he doesn’t--” 
--want me. 
What if he doesn’t want me? 
The Alpha clasped his hands tight between his knees and hung his head, dread welling up from his core and dragging his scent and Logan whined under his breath before turning on his heel and striding away. It was too much. Too much to see Wade broken down and in so much pain, too much to know the Alpha might not actually survive long enough to find Peter again, too much to know this might have been a doomed idea from the start. 
The couch dipped when Clint sat down next to him, and Wade shivered when feathers materialized and lay over his shoulders. “What are you doing?” 
“What, old me never gave you a feather hug?” the Alpha asked lightly and when Wade only grunted in response, he finished, “Yeah, my friend Tash hates them too. She always slaps me away and says I smell like bird.” 
“She sounds like a peach.” 
“Oh yeah, she’s the worst. Will definitely try to bite you if you get too close and let me tell you, there’s a reason we call her the Black Widow. Do not fall for her charms no matter how many boobies she flashes your way.” 
“...boobies aren’t really my type.” Wade said slowly and Clint laughed under his breath and budged even closer. “Seriously, what are you doing?” 
“Look man, I get that you and the old me were friends but probably the sort of friends that gave air high-fives and not bromantic hugs.” The Alpha began and Wade-- Wade didn’t understand that reference at all. “But you reek like scared and sorta like failure right now so lemme ask you something. How many times did your mate trace your scars back then? How many nights did you sit in front of the fireplace or-- or out on your property and your Omega drew over your scars and skin until he had them all memorized?” 
Wade touched the horribly raised claw marks on either side of his ribs and muttered, “Every night. Every day. All the time.” 
“Right.” Clint nodded. “Logan does the same with my feathers. Says he used to groom me or whatever. I haven’t let him try that yet but I’m not real opposed to my mate wanting to rub me down for any reason, and I know you feel the same way with your Omega. You look--” 
The Alpha cleared his throat. “--well you know how you look, but I guarantee you feel the same to your mate. All those lines? He knows them by heart and it won’t make any difference now they stick up a little. I know we talked about caps for your fangs, but you don’t seem like the type to smile a whole lot so maybe just stick with that fuck off scowl and try not to snarl at anyone in public.” 
“And as far as these go?” Clint gestured to the pills Wade kept staring at like they would jump out and bite him. “You could just about overdose on these things and the second you get into the same room as your mate, they’ll bleed right out of your system. Logan’s never last longer than a few minutes once we get home. Dunno if it's the mutant thing, dunno if it’s our biology that refuses to be muted around our mates, but they’ll disappear in a few minutes and your mate will know you’re there no matter what.” 
“He’s gonna know you.” the mutant finished softly. “Our mates always do.” 
“...Logan knew you?” 
“Logan picked me out of a crowd.” Clint confirmed. “I was out having coffee with Natasha and the biggest, meanest looking Omega I’ve ever seen came right up to me, yanked me up from my damn chair and shoved his nose in my neck. Freakin’ bit me right there at Starbucks. I had about two seconds to wonder what the hell was going on before my heart kicked into gear and I realized he was my mate. Nothing else mattered after that, all the stuff about him knowing me before and me not having wings this time and him being you know, internally shiny? Just details. We figured it out just like you two will figure it out.” 
“Just details, huh?” Wade flexed his fingers and flinched when everything pulled and burned. “Seems like this mess is a pretty big detail.” 
“Buddy.” Clint shook his feathers between them. “I’ve got magical tattoos that become full fledged wings in a few seconds. The first time Logan kissed me in public, I basically fluffed the hell out and scattered feathers everywhere. It was a wing boner and everyone saw it. We had to run away to people screaming and throwing shit at us and the National Enquirer ran an article about the Bird Boy in Central Park for a solid week.” 
“Dunno what the Enquirer is.” 
“The point is, we adjusted to the details.” the other Alpha countered. “Wing boners and shiny claws and all that. You and your mate will adjust fine too.” 
“This version of you is a lot better at talking about feelings than the last version of you.” Wade said after a minute. “Other one use to fluff up if I so much as looked at Logan for too long.” 
“What the hell are you doing looking at my mate for too long?” Clint demanded and Wade huffed a laugh, “Yeah, there you are.” 
“You’ll be fine.” the wings retracted, melted back into the mutant’s arms. “Get some more sleep, Logan says we should give you a run down of New York City basics before we let you out into the wild so we’ll do that when you wake up, yeah?” 
“Yeah.” Wade fell back against the backrest and put an arm over his eyes. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Thanks.” 
“You’ll be fine.” Clint repeated. “Gotta go find my Omega. Sleep so Cable quits acting rabid and we’ll see you in a bit.” 
The door closed behind Clint as he went to find his mate, and the moment he was gone Wade rolled off the couch to grab for his pack-- or rather, Peter’s pack stuffed full of the Omega’s notebooks and presents. 
Just like he’d done a thousand times before, Wade opened up to the first page of the first notebook and started reading but this time he took a pencil and filled in his own questions and thoughts along the borders and edges. 
How did Pete cope with everything being so different? 
Did I make things more difficult in the beginning? 
Was he struggling more than I realized cos I was too busy thinking about him as mate instead of as someone lost in a new place? 
…. What if I don’t fit into Peter’s world? 
**************
**************
“How is he?” Cable puffed at his cigar a few times then passed the lighter to Logan so the Omega could light a cigar of his own. “Adjusted any better? Still half outta his mind needing to see his mate?” 
“I don’t think he’s doing good.” Logan blew a smoke ring into the air between them. “He hasn’t talked about Peter yet today but he’s been reading and writing in all those notebooks from his bag since yesterday afternoon. Got real quiet after sayin’ he didn’t think his mate would know him if he took the blockers and suppressants.” 
“It’s a hard thing to come’t’terms with.” the mutant agreed. “Thinking your mate won’t accept how you’ve changed. Rough times.” 
“Your mate didn’t take too kindly to you growing a metal half of your body?” Logan guessed and Cable returned, “She was dead before the virus made it past my shoulder. Wasn’t an issue.” 
The Omega grimaced and Cable changed the subject. “Wade’s mate is doing better. All those books I gave him kept his mind off the depression and he seems better. It’s good. Seeing Wade will be shock enough, it would probably kill him if he didn’t have a few good days first.” 
“That’s why you did it?” Logan wanted to know. “Gave that kid answers to all his million questions so he’d turn around enough to handle seeing Wade?” 
“I gave the kid answers so he’d stop botherin’ me.” the Alpha maintained. “Wanted him outta his heat and focused on something else just in case this didn’t work and he never got Wade back again. He doesn’t know I went back to Haven, doesn’t know I’m here in the present again. It’s better that way.” 
“You’re taking Wade to Pym today? That guy’s an asshole.” 
“Yeah, but he’s brilliant. And since Stark walked away from anything science or mutant after the Manhattan project, his boy only lets me around if he has too. Pym is a good balance. Enough of a jerk to keep anyone from asking questions, smart enough to help me when I need it.” 
“You actually like him.” Logan laughed a little. “No one likes Pym, but you do, don’t you?” 
“I respect him,.” Cable countered. “And if you knew half the shit he could do, you’d respect him too. Did you get caps for Wade’s fangs?” 
“Nope.” Logan puffed for another minute before explaining, “My Alpha said we shouldn’t do that to him, just warned the guy not to snarl at anyone in public. He’s feeling outta place enough, don’t need to emasculate him like that.” 
“It’s fangs.” Cable argued in exasperation. “Ain’t like we’re ripping out his knot.” 
“Eh.” the Omega shrugged non commitedly. “Easy for you to say. You still got fangs.” 
“Eh.” Cable repeated the noise and put his cigar out. “Let’s get him outta here then. Pym won’t wait long.” 
Back inside the building, Logan didn’t have much to say as Wade gathered up the notebooks again and stuffed them into the bag and he didn’t have much to say when the Alpha came down from the makeshift bedroom loft in brand new, modern clothes that looked entirely uncomfortable against the mutants skin. 
But when Cable readied himself to blip himself and Wade into Pym’s lab, Logan reached out and grabbed Wade into a long hug, holding the Alpha tight for a minute and muttering, “Last time you disappeared with this time sliding bastard it took a hundred and fifty years to see you again. Maybe don’t do that again.” 
“I’m fully planning on never seeing you again.” Wade pried the Omega’s arms off his shoulders but his eyes flickered red with open affection. “But if the city is as terrible as you say, maybe me and my mate will come up to your land for a while.” 
“Do it.” Clint’s wings opened up off his shoulders for a few seconds. “Come up and stay with us. We’ve got acres up against the mountains and you’ll have to register as Canadian but it’s worth it for the views, yeah?”
“I’m pretty sure I’m Canadian anyway.” Wade cracked a smile for the other Alpha. “Back then borders weren’t such a big deal, but I’m sure I was Northern enough to belong.” 
“Then you don’t have any excuse.” Clint hauled his Omega back up against his body. “Find your mate, get him outta this cesspool city and come back--” he checked with Logan. “--home? Right? Our land is within a half days drive of the old Haven site. It’ll feel like home.” 
“I’ll keep it in mind.” Wade had to bite his tongue so he wouldn’t blurt out how uncertain he still was that Peter would even want to see him, much less that the Omega would want to give up modern life to live in the woods again. “Thanks.” 
“Let’s go.” The scene was too similar to the one Cable had just torn Wade from a few days-- and several decades-- previous in Haven, so the mutant cut it short and closed his metal palm around Wade’s forearm. “This won’t hurt like coming from Haven, but you’ll still be a little dizzy afterwards. Just breathe, alright? Breathe.” 
Cable should have warned Hank Pym to breathe too, because when he and Wade materialized in the Doctor’s front room Hank outright screamed and pitched a tea cup at them, shattering porcelain and hot tea at their feet. 
“Easy does it.” Cable said dryly, and Wade only raised non existent eyebrows when the Doctor did a double take in his direction and screamed a little again. “You ready for us, or not?” 
“I’m--I’m ready.” Hank inched along the far wall to keep some distance between himself and the Alphas, staring wide eyed at Wade and nearly tripping when the mutant flashed wicked fangs in his direction. “Good god, they really raised them wild back then, didn’t they?” 
“You have no idea.” Cable patted at Wade’s shoulder and lowered his voice, “He’s wacky but he’s good, alright? Don’t worry about him.” 
“Sorta worried he might crap his pants.” Wade said in the same sotto tone and Cable bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t laugh. “Good thing he’s wearing the brown ones, we’ll never be able to tell.” 
“Glad to see your sense of humour survived the journey.” Cable directed Wade down the stairs ahead of him. “Let’s see what else makes it outta here. Pym blew up his last lab on a project for me so--” 
“You know, I knew that’s why you moved labs.” A new voice set both the Alpha’s on guard, but more surprising than the new voice was the unexpected scent of Omega, vanilla and cloves tinted with something electric and blue that emanated from the shockingly beautiful mutant perched on one of the stainless steel lab tables. “I knew it had something to do with your house exploding. I saw the news and I thought, ‘No way that was a gas leak, Hank was doing something hinky’.” 
“Stark.” Beta’s didn’t normally growl but Hank sure gave it a try. “How did you get in here?” 
“I designed all four of the security systems you’re using to protect this little playhouse.” Tony said nonchalantly. “Heya Mr. Summers, long time no see. I had a very interesting visit from an Omega that smelled just like you the other day so I figured you’d be around. Hank, you ignored Pep’s call the other night and hurt her feelings. You know she’s a dragon, right? She’s probably circling the clouds right now waiting to breathe fire on your humble little abode. By the way? Who’s this?” 
Struck dumb by both the unexpected ramble and the searing gaze of chocolate brown eyes lit brilliant blue around the edges, Wade only stood there while the pretty Omega slid off the table and sauntered over in front of him. 
“Wow, they just don’t make Alphas like you anymore, do they?” The Omega said admiringly, looking Wade up and down and grinning in sheer delight when he saw the edges of Wade’s fangs. “My god, you’re just about feral aren’t you? Never met an Alpha with fangs, they trim those things down these days, make you guys start taking regulators and suppressants right away to mellow you out as much as possible before your first rut. Do these hurt?” 
Curious but gentle hands at Wade’s scars, and he sent Cable a dumbfounded look over the Omega’s head, mouthing who and what the hell and Cable only shrugged at him. 
“Tony Stark by the way.” the Omega finally said, squeezing at Wade’s bicep and making a hmm! noise. “Genius enough to make Hank over there see red, rich enough to buy basically anything. I was a playboy before my Alpha told me to behave and while I do enjoy giving shocking amounts of money to different causes, my favorite cause might actually be the check I cut your mate a few months back. Darling little Omega, isn’t he? Whipcord smart and has about a million questions at any given time and he exposed my least favorite person in the world to be a giant douche nozzle so--” 
“Stark!” Hank barked and the Omega quit feeling Wade up to turn and flash the Doctor an ingratiating grin. “If you are finished? I have real work to do!” 
“Yeah, and I want to watch.” Tony pulled snacks from somewhere and offered some to Wade. “You don’t mind, right? Might even make you feel better to have another mutant in the room while the only non mutant runs some tests? I’m a huge fan of you old world Alphas. My Auntie Peggy was one and she didn’t let anyone tell her what to do ever. Not even after she passed. Left a video will giving the middle finger to the local priest because his wife always looked down at her for wearing scarlet to church every Sunday.” 
“My god, he talks a lot.” Wade whispered and Cable whispered back, “This is why I work with Pym.” 
“You can stay, but you have to sit down and shut the hell up.” Hank decided. “None of that Stark shit where you get into my project halfway and take it over.” 
“I’ve never done that in my life.” Tony defended and the Beta shot back, “I can smell the bullshit from here, Tony! Sit down and shut up!” 
Tony sat, but he never took his eyes off Wade as Hank directed the Alpha over to a chair. “Your mate misses you.” he said quietly and Wade only swallowed and looked away. “Still smells like mate sick and everything. Came around asking after mutants and told me he just wanted to know, wanted to understand more about our kind. He’s a good kid, good Omega. My mate was thoroughly charmed.” 
“Talked your ear off, huh?” Wade watched in mild curiosity as Doctor Pym drew several vials worth of blood. “Bring a notebook?” 
“He asked at least a million questions and scribbled so much I’m pretty sure he burned through a pencil.” Tony confirmed and Wade tried to smile. “Have you uh-- have you always looked like this? ...textured?” 
“Effect of the journey.” Cable cut in, and then surprisingly, “So shut the hell up about it.” 
“Charming as always.” Tony held out his bag of snacks to the mutant, then took them back when Cable only looked at him. “I bet your mate loves it. Pep loves my scars.” 
Three pairs of semi surprised eyes turned his way and the Omega opened up his shirt to show them the patchwork mess over his heart. “It’s a long story and you don’t want to hear it. But she loves them. Says they mark me as hers cos she’s the only one who knows every inch of me like this. I bet Peter will feel the same way.” 
Oddly enough, it was the most comforting thing anyone had said about the scars yet and Wade tucked it away in his heart. Peter thinking the scars and old hurts marked Wade as his made the Alpha feel that perhaps it wasn’t all bad. 
The good feeling rapidly dissolved when Hank fed slides of Wade's blood into some sort of-- well Wade had no idea what sort of mechanical thing was sitting in front of him, but his heart sank when letters and numbers started flashing across a large screen in the corner and everyone besides him made a discouraged noise. 
“What?” the Alpha tensed when Hank came back for more blood. “What does all that mean?” 
“It's an equation.” Cable held up a hand when Tony started to talk again, effectively cutting off another ramble. “Hank is comparing your blood to Logan’s blood and to Clint’s to check for similarities.” 
“Logan’s blood is continuously regenerating.” Doctor Pym explained, pointing to a system of equations next to the ones that had generated for Wade. “This sample is days old and not only is his blood not showing any signs of degeneration, it’s actually still dividing which means theoretically he could grow a body part with enough time and enough--” 
Wade looked distinctly uncomfortable and Hank cleared his throat. “You know what, you don’t need to know that. Basically, I’m comparing your blood to someone else with a healing factor to see the speed and progression of your cells. On this side, I’m comparing it to Clint’s blood because he is both Alpha and mutant with no healing factor, or at least not one that is particularly measurable.” 
“So what does it tell you?” Another vial and this time Wade growled in warning when the doctor came near him. “What does that mean. I dunno what equation means or anything like that.” 
“This is telling us your blood isn’t regenerating as fast as Logan’s.” Tony jumped out of his seat and took over the explanation. “But it’s still moving at least three times as fast as Clint’s, who would be the most similar to you in genetic makeup once you take out that healing thing. Which is awesome, by the way? I wish I could regrow body parts.” 
“Anyway.” Hank cut a glance at the Omega before typing away at his computer for a minute. “Based on these numbers and the rate of decay we can see in your blood compared to the other test subjects--” 
“Use their names!” Cable barked and Hank jumped. “We do not like to be called test subjects! Logan and Clint are people!” 
“...my apologies.” Hank held up both hands peacefully, and Tony cocked his head to trill comfortingly at the Alpha. “I start thinking in lab-speak and that’s what comes out. No harm meant.” 
He tried again, “I can take the information in Clint and Logan’s blood and use it to create an equation--” the doctor paused. “-- a plan? Blueprint? Uh-- like a future guess? For how your life span and healing abilities will be affected by staying in this timeline.” 
“Okay.” Wade dug his nails into his leg and tried to regulate his breathing. “So what’s it saying?” 
A new set of numbers and letters and a chart that Wade couldn’t hope to begin to understand filled the new screen and Hank explained, “You’re going to start aging in this time line. It might be thirty years before you notice it physically, but eventually you’ll wake up feeling older than you did before. Based on this data, I’d say you’ll age three years to our ten and any major injury that taxes your mutation will advance the aging a little faster.” 
“So if you get in an accident and break your leg?” Tony waved his hand around vaguely. “No more damage than it would do to the rest of us. Get in an accident and snap your neck and come back? Probably looking at taking a good ten years off your life.” 
“You’ll need to be careful.” Cable said firmly. “Nothing like you were before, because--” 
“-- because one day I could actually die.” Wade finished, and then, “One day I could actually get old.” 
“Right, which is terrible.” Hank announced, pulling up yet another screen and punching in numbers. “I don’t recommend it. Yesterday I got out of bed and my hip popped so loud I thought it actually snapped. Don’t grow old, it’s the worst.” 
“Sorry, Wade.” the Omega’s eyes dimmed in sympathy. “I’m sure that wasn’t the news you wanted.”
“I could grow old.” the Alpha repeated and this time his eyes landed squarely on Cable. “You mean, I could grow old with my mate?” 
“You could grow old with your mate.” the mutant confirmed, the corner of his mouth tipping up in an understanding smile. “That’s a fact.” 
“I’d say you’ve got a good seventy years before your healing factor gives out completely and then you’ll pass just like the rest of us.” Tony was too interested in the numbers flashing by to notice the two Alphas exchanging a meaningful look. “You’re what, a hundred and ten? Two hundred and sixty now that Cable brought you forward? I know seventy years sounds like a death sentence when you’re talking about a life span of actual centuries but it's good by our standards. It really is, this is sorts of best case scenario.” 
“We could also see about transfusions for your mate.” Doctor Pym said excitedly. “Your blood could massively boost his immune system and increase his life by most of a decade I bet! There’s about a hundred tests I’d love to do on you and maybe even--” 
Cable made a noise that was close enough to a snarl to make the Beta shut up abruptly. “Not real keen on people doing tests on mutants, Hank. Leave it alone.” 
“Yeah, Hank.” Tony sniffed, switching sides quickly and obviously gleeful over a chance to needle the old man. “Leave us alone.”  
“I’m just saying-- hey where are you going?” Doctor Pym stopped mid sentence when Wade abruptly got up from the chair and headed for the door. “Don’t you want to hear this? It’s only your life you know, no big deal or anything.” 
“I’ve heard everything I care about.” the Alpha ignored Hank’s outstretched hand and walked right for Cable. “Can we go? I need to see my mate now.” 
“I know.” Cable nodded, pulled a smaller circular device off his belt and pressed it into the Alpha’s hand. “This will put you right in your mate’s living room. It’s only good for a one way, the coordinates are pre loaded. Just press it and go, alright?” 
“Thank you.” Wade shouldered his pack and gripped the device tight. “And um-- thank you. For giving me the chance to grow old with Pete.” 
“Just glad it worked out.” The mutant said gruffly. “Go find your mate and maybe the two of you leave me the hell alone after this.” 
“Yeah, I’ve got no reason to want to talk to you again.” A peek of fangs as the Alpha smiled one last time. “This good-bye?” 
“It goddamn better be.” 
Wade depressed the device, grit his teeth against the uncomfortable wrenching in his gut and disappeared in a flash of light, leaving the other three men behind. 
“Cannnnn I have one of those?” Tony asked immediately and Cable grunted, “No.” 
“Well can I have the blue prints? I know you only trust Hank with your futuristic stuff, but I create super computers, I’m sure I can handle programming a little time slidey device.” 
“Absolutely not.” 
Hank smirked at the Omega’s put out expression, but then Tony snarked, “All I’m saying, I definitely would not have blown up my house trying to build one for you!” 
“Nope!” the Beta tossed back. “You would have leveled an entire city block and then slapped one of those obnoxious Stark logo’s on it and tried to sell the damn thing for millions!” 
“Billions, actually but--” 
Their conversation faded out as Cable rolled his eyes and went on his own way. He’d check back in with Wade and Peter only one more time just to make sure they found each other and then he was washing his hands of the whole mess. 
Guilt assuaged, time travel achieved, and he had a date in Haven to watch Hope celebrate her next birthday which was entirely more important than two scientists bickering over who would have blown up which building and whose logo was less tacky. 
The mutant blinked, tracking the readout from the device he’d given Wade and only when the numbers stopped spinning at the correct location did he move on. 
He’d done all he could and it was up to the mated pair to figure out the rest. 
They’d be fine. 
Soulmates were always fine.
**************
**************
Peter’s Apartment
The apartment was dark, every light off and every curtain drawn and Wade’s heart stuttered to a stop when he heard Peter’s voice outside the door. 
Keys jangling in the lock, once and then twice before they caught and turned and the door opened with only enough light to let Wade catch a glimpse of a lean frame and a flash of brown eyes before it shut and plunged the entire place into shadows again. 
There was a quiet thump when the Omega leaned back against the door, and from his seat across the room Wade held his breath and dug his fingers into the upholstery and forced himself still. 
And quietly, shakily, almost fearful and still the sweetest sound Wade had ever heard--
“Al-- Alpha?” 
The Alpha’s voice didn’t work the first time he tried to talk and the second time it was hoarse, rough and raw like Wade had been crying and damn maybe he was crying and just couldn’t tell. 
“I’m here, Pete.” he finally whispered, and the Omega gave a little gasp that about killed him. “I’m here.” 
“Oh.” Lavender and honeysuckle filtered timid and yearning towards the Alpha’s nose and Peter whispered, “C--Can you feel me? Right here?” 
Wade was off the chair in an instant, stumbling across the room and rearing to a stop just barely in front of his mate. Peter’s eyes were wide in the dark trying to find him, palm up and fingers spread and the Alpha swallowed hard before covering Peter’s hand with his own rougher one, weaving their fingers together and bringing the Omega’s knuckles to his mouth for a gentle, gentle kiss. 
“My mate. I can feel you.” 
*****************
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xbellaxcarolinax · 4 years
Text
Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 9- Conflicted
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)
Word Count: 4370
Warnings: None!
8- Discovery
...
"So, she is to be a blacksmith now?"
Ubbe stares down at his youngest brother, sat on a stool near the entrance of the shop. Ivar was oddly quiet, carving a wolf out of a small wooden block with his favorite dagger.
"Is she any good?" Hvitserk's curious voice calls from behind Ubbe, eyes peering over his shoulder. Ivar's lazy blue eyes stared up at his two older brothers, clearly annoyed.
"Go see for yourselves," He snaps at them, blowing the dust off the wooden block. It didnt look like much now, but the snout of the wolf was now visable.
Both Ubbe and Hvitserk didn't hesitate stepping inside, graced with the sight of Ivar's thrall pounding mercilessly upon an anvil.
And there it was, the source of Ivar's annoyance, Ubbe knew at first glance.
The blacksmith's son surveyed over her like a hawk scavenging its meal. He follows her movements with a smile and arms crossed, drinking in the new techniques he could possibly apply to his own work.
She certainly looked like a blacksmith. An apron was draped over her wool dress and the gloves she wore were far too big for her hands, but she seemed to manage it. Her cheeks were tinged with a dusty pink, from the proximity of young Arvid or the labor intensive work, Ubbe didn't know, but he supposed he'd find out soon enough.
Artemis's arms were sore, just as they always use to be when she first began her training. She wiped her face with her arm, pointing a gloved finger to the sharp metal point she had welded onto the opposite side of the blade.
"This is the preferred style of the Emperor's men. The point is used for quick jabs and minor hindrances." Arvid scratched his bearded chin in thought watching as Artemis dipped the axe head into the cool water. When he turns at the figures approaching them, a grin spreads across his lips.
"Princes!"
Artemis nearly drops the bucket from Arvid's sudden outburst, whirling around to see him moving over to give both Ubbe and Hvitserk a quick pat on the shoulder. It was clear Arvid enjoyed their company more than Ivar's, who sat sulking like a reprimanded child.
"Prince Ubbe, Prince Hvitserk." She greets them with a nod of her head.
"Any business with my father?" Arvid asks.
"We came to see the work of the woman blacksmith." Says Hvitserk with a lopsided grin. It was enough for the smallest hint of a smile to tug at her lips. His playful nature was something Artemis had begun to notice, and she decided weeks ago that this particular Ragnarson was not as bad as she had deemed at first glance.
"You're making a battle axe," States Ubbe, peering over the table with interest, "Pull it from the water." He was expecting amature work, nothing worthy to be taken to war, though he was quite surprised when she obeys, pulling out the glimmering metal and placing it on the anvil.
The axe head was not complete yet, but it was by far one of the most impressive pieces he had seen. Its construction was different to say the least. While the axes of the northmen were blunt in appearance and used for a quick kill, the one he saw here was finely detailed and intricate, like nothing he had seen before. Ubbe brings his eyes to her, brows raised and an impressed chuckle bubbling over his lips.
"You made this?"
"Upon Prince Ivar's request." Artemis nods. Ivar turned quickly at the mention of his name, peering to look at her with an odd intensity, but when he noticed Arvid beside her, he frowned, turning back around to work on his wood carving.
"What do you think, brothers?" He calls out to them, his dagger lodged deep into the wood.
"I say you have a talented thrall on your hands." Hvitserk replies, still admiring the unfinished axe head with childlike eyes.
"Perhaps we should bring Artemis along to England. She could help repair weaponry with Arvid and Master Hagen." Ubbe suggests, watching as Ivar's suddenly stops his movements.
"Unfortunately, my father has decided not to join us. He is aging, and is tired from previous raids," Arvid says with a sad smile, "He is ill, but I will support you all in avenging Ragnar. Artemis would be a great addition to the camp. She is incredibly skillful."
Arvid takes a peek down at her, a smirk forming on his lips when she glances back at him, the heat rising to her cheeks. She wasn't use to the attention.
"You forget, Arvid, she is a slave." Ivar says, lowering his tools onto his lap. He turns his head again, his eyebrow raised in suspicion. Artemis had talent, that much was true, but Ivar had trouble sharing his possessions, a trait he developed during his childhood. Whatever he'd ask of her would be for him, and him alone.
Though it did cross his mind at one point, having Artemis join them in England. If Master Hagen was indisposed, than Arvid needed as much help as he could get, as Kattegat's villagers were mostly nothing more than humble farmers.
"So?" Ubbe sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose at his youngest brother's stubborness, "We travel with slaves all the time."
"It would be a waste to just leave her here," Hvitserk interjects, taking one last glance at the glimmering axe head before turning to look at Ivar, "She's useful."
"What do you say, Ivar?" Ivar grumbles for a moment, looks at his thrall as if he would find the answers in her eyes, before turning to look out into the city. He pauses, his attention now caught on something of interest.
"I say Ubbe should get his whore wife, before Sigurd steals her away." He mutters, but it was loud enough for them to hear. Ubbe's eyebrows knit in confusion seeing Ivar looking out the door way. Walking toward the entrance of the shop, Ubbe turn to his line of vision, and his blue eyes caught the sight of Sigurd charming Margrathe by the docks.
She hides a smile behind her newly jeweled hand as she willingly received a flower token from Sigurd. The oldest suddenly inhaled sharply, glaring down at Ivar before disappearing into the crowded village, his rope like hair whipping in the cold wind.
...
The forest was a place of peace, just as Artemis was for once. But the peace was always short lived. Her mind began to race when she wasn't preoccupied with her duties. The wheels in her head were constantly turning, and now they were pressured by one thing.
England.
There was always much talk of England and war.
Talk of war and revenge and death and blood. The hour was nearing, and soon they'd be off on their dragon headed boats to avenge just one man. So many of their people have come, masses of pale men and women coming to fight for the Lothbrok man, and in the name of their one eyed diety, Odin.
Artemis often wondered how great of a man this Ragnar Lothbrok was, that his people would move mountains in his name? He must have been remarkable to instill such loyalty among these fierce warriors, as if he were a god himself.
"He is a legend here in Norway, to all other neighboring kingdoms, and across the seas," Ubbe had said to her one day, "He achieved what no other man thought possible, and for that he is praised."
Right.
She wondered if Ivar would allow her to travel. The idea was tempting, only if it would allow her to feel free again. The crippled bastard didnt seem too happy about the idea, which left her guessing the reasons. Did he think she'd escape? That she would run away in another foreign land when she couldn't even speak the language?
Her knowledge of England was minimal. All she knew was that the men were called Saxons, that they believed in her God, and that they were in constant attack of the Northermen. Such poor people, to always live in fear of destruction. Was the Lord on their side, or was this another game to test their faith, just as the Roman's did to the early Christians?
They were like a plague, a sickness that damaged whatever land they reached. If Bjorn managed to reach Crete, it was only a matter of time before he decided to reach deeper into the island and possibly into the rest of Greece and the entire Mediterranean.
She'd ask herself how could she bare to be part of their cause. How could she live with herself knowing the very weapons she'd make and repair were to be used to kill her fellow Chrisitians?
She sniffles, convincing herself it was just the cold and not the inevitable sadness that crept up on her whenever it got the chance.
"Lord, help me." She mutters to herself, picking the first tree in her line of vision, gripping Arvid's axe tightly in both her hands.
"Everyone seems keen on having you join us in our cause."
Artemis freezes before slowly turning, her hooded cloak shielding her from the intruder. She recognized the voice enough to know it belonged to Sigurd.
"So it seems, Prince."
She continues her task, turning back in an attempt to chop a branch with the blunt axe. It was the lowest branch she could find, but she still struggled to strike it down. She was far too short. Sighing, she turns around completely, finding Sigurd leaning against a nearby tree, smirking.
"Does Prince Ivar know you're out here?" She calls out to him, "You are aware he is not in the best of moods when...you are close."
Sigurd had always been decent, though lately she's noticed his patience was wearing thin. It was always a soft touch, a simple passing of their hands whenever Ivar ordered for her to serve them all. She'd always dance away from his simple touches, thinking nothing of it.
Ivar was quick to react against Sigurd, whenever his older brother started getting too close. They argued once, after Sigurd had skillfully grazed Artemis's hand with his when she had placed his meal before him in plain sight for Ivar to see. Sigurd was once of a kind heart, but like everything else in Kattegat, looks could be quite deceiving.
He purposefully tormented his crippled brother, and although Ivar was just as guilty for heavily tormenting Sigurd, he wasn't the only one to blame for their quarrels. Sigurd held a resentment over his younger brother, although Artemis hadn't the faintest idea why. She had heard it had something to do with their late mother, causing them to have a rivalry.
Sigurd shrugs, moving away from the tree to grab the axe from her hand.
"Why should it matter to me what Ivar thinks?" He asks, grunting when he easily brought the axe down on the branch. The first strike almost ripped it down, and with one more hit, the branch fell to the ground. The force of his labors caused the snow to fall on their heads. She squeals and Sigurd chuckles, brushing the snow off her hood before tending to his own hair.
"It would avoid an argument for one," She replies quietly, glancing down at her hands. They were red, burned from the old. She was hoping the conversation would end soon so she could run back into the warmth of the hearth.
"Ivar isn't here, is he?"
No, he wasnt. He was with Floki who had a surprise for him.
Sigrud bent to pick up the branch, handing her both the wood and the axe. Thankfully, the wood was the perfect size.
"Thank you," She says, holding the objects in a tight grip, bringing her eyes to him. The sun beamed over him and his hair looked much fairer than usual, as if a halo were above him.
"I think you should come with us." He says, looking at her with eyes that seemed to beckon her closer, but they only made her want to take a step back.
"It is not up to us."
He takes a step forward and then another one, the snow crunching loudly under his boots.
"If it were up to me, you would be sailing to England as a blacksmith and as a freewoman."
What was the point of all this?
Artemis wanted to roll her eyes. She shakes her head in response and suddenly her breath caught in her throat when Sigurd touched the strands of hair that hung over her face. She brings her gaze to the the tips of her boots, not wanting to look directly into his eyes.
"Ivar is a jealous fool, you know. He does not want to admit that he has grown a fondness for you, but we all see it," He begins, bringing his touch to her neck, his cold finger tips raising goose flesh over her skin, "I must admit I have grown a fondness for you as well."
He let's out a bitter chuckle with a shake of his head before gabbing the back of her neck and forcing a kiss upon her. Her wide eyes watch as his flutter closed.
She reacts quickly, pushing him off of her the best way she could. It wasn't the worst kiss she's recieved, but it didn't mean she found it pleasant. His mouth was hot and tasted of ale. That was what had influenced his boldness.
"Do you like ignoring me so?" Sigurd sucks his teeth, a frown on his lips as he crosses his arms, "Was it not pleasant?"
Artemis remains silent.
"I've shown you kindness, yet that doesn't seem enough for you." His tone revealed he was growing more irritated by the second.
"It only proves to me, that you have shown me such kindness for your own benefit." She spoke as quietly as she could despite the anger brewing within. She knew the price to be paid for letting her words run wild and there was no doubt in her mind that she would be eating her own words for the disrespect.
She turns from him, hugging the branch and axe to her chest tightly.
"Artemis."
Sigurd sighs, gently calling out to her. He frowns. Perhaps he'd been too rough with her. It was foolish of him to be envious of his younger brother's claim over her. That was no fault of hers.
"Artemis." He tries again, finally smiling when she turns to face him again, but it immediately drops as soon as he sees her expression. Her eyes were glossed over as she brings her gaze to his, and her lips were set in a tight line.
"F-forgive me," Sigurd stutters a bit, "I did not mean to be unkind." He sighs when she still chose to remain quiet. He felt quite terrible with himself.
"Ubbe had always been right in reminding us that slaves are humans too," He says finally, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, "I suppose I'll see you at supper."
Artemis watches him leave until he was completely out of sight, letting out a shuddering breath.
....
Ivar seemed to enjoy the cold.
He leaned against the cabin door to hold it open, watching the people of Kattegat scurry by, perched on a stool as usual. He appeared to be completely lost in thought, absentmindedly bringing his fur cloak tighter around his shoulders.
For some reason he had taken a liking to viewing the city lately, as if surveilling those he thought were conspiring against him.
The wind wasn't so harsh that afternoon, but it was still enough to combat against the warmth of the cabin, the fire fighting to stay alive.
Artemis shivers, her cold hands feeling stiff as she worked to sand down the branch to make the handle of the axe. The wood shavings from previously carving it with Ivar's dagger pooled around her feet, scattering about when the wind blew.
Ivar clears his throat, and she immediately brings her eyes to his back, waiting for whatever instruction he would give her.
"Are the Greeks formidable people?" He asks instead, "Are they feared as my people are?"
Well, that was not what she was expecting to come tumbling from his mouth.
She lets the question settle in her mind for a moment before answering.
"We are not feared so much as..." She struggled to find the proper word to use, and so she said it in her native tongue, "Revered."
Ivar only turns his head enough to peer at her just from over his shoulder, confusion etched on his face as she expected.
"As what?"
Her language sounded so silly. It was different than the language of the Saxons, and very much different than his own. He raises his brows at her and she thinks again.
"Respected," She finally says, "Our culture is respected."
"Oh? How so?"
"The holy book of the Christian's was first written in Greek. Our ancestors left knowledge and culture, even in their pagan ways. And their gods were complex figures. Kings and priests are lucky enough to study our past." She continues to sand the wood, careful to avoid any splinters.
"Why did they abandon their own gods for the God of the Christian's? Why did you abandon the gods of your ancestors?" Ivar had now fully turned around to look at her in genuine curiosity.
He must have been bored out of his mind. He never cared to inquire on her past or her culture before, though she supposed in his defense, he doesn't have to inquire on anything. To him, she was just another ignorant Christian with ignorant beliefs.
"I did not abandon them," Artemis fought against rolling her eyes, settling for a sigh instead, "The gods of the sky and sea were abandoned long ago in favor of our Christian God. I was not raised to keep them in my heart, but only to remember their stories." Ivar scoffs, crossing his arms.
"And were those gods powerful? More so than Odin or Thor?"
Again, she ponders the question, finally finishing sanding the wood. She runs her fingers over the surface to make sure the smoothness was to her liking before answering.
"I cannot say. I've not witnessed any wonders from the old gods or the gods of your people. I do not know them."
"And has your God shown you such wonderous things?" Ivar snorts.
"Not particularly," She says hesitantly, "But I am familiar with His love, just as you are familiar with the love of your gods," She brings her eyes to his, "And I believe he has kept me alive thus far."
Ivar did not look convinced.
"Perhaps I should have killed you then." He mutters with a chuckle. She had heard his comment, he could tell by how her features twisted into that look he knew so well. She was not pleased with his statement, but did well to keep silent.
He didn't mean it, not really. It wasn't much of a dislike for her as it was for her beliefs. He hated how Christian's coaxed one to fall into their ignorance. But Ivar didn't regard Artemis as ignorant, as she never spoke of her God or her beliefs, unlike the babbling priests that came with her. Ivar knew she kept her faith to herself, and she was not wrong in doing so.
"But, you were named after a goddess," Ivar continues again, "Surely it must have been a sign of respect."
Artemis thinks that perhaps he should have killed her. She would willingly fall on his sword if it would end their useless conversation.
"The result of a father who wanted to keep the memory of his ancestors." Artemis's tone grew more irritated with his questions and comments. It was idle chatter. She felt she did not have the graces at that moment to deal with idle chat.
She stands and walks over to him, her frigid fingers passing over his surprisingly warm ones as she hands the wood over to him. Ivar says nothing when he feels her cold fingers, gripping the wood with a grunt. It fit perfectly in his palm, the wood skillfully smooth to perfection under his calloused fingers. Ivar smiles.
"Excellent," He says in approval, handing it back to her. He then brings his eyes to look directly into hers, staring intently as if to search the gray depths.
"Do you truly believe in your Christian God?" That was a dangerous question if asked back home. Ivar seemed to be in a philosophical mood.
Artemis purses her lips. She knew how far her faith went. She was not as pious as a proper Christian woman should. Sunday mass became a chore to her, and although she said her prayers at night, her faith began to dwindle, mostly after she was captured at the monestary. Perhaps God did not love her as she thought he did.
"It does not matter what I believe. I am just a slave." She decides to say instead. A passing thrall came by with a broom, handing it over to her before scurrying away.
"Perhaps I should enlighten you on our gods," Ivar says nonchalantly, watching her begin to sweep up the wood shavings, "It will do you good to understand the customs of the people you serve, would it not? Especially if you are to travel with us to England." The broom threatened to slip from her hands as she looked at Ivar with shocked eyes.
"But I need to know that you will be on our side. I need to know you will be on my side, " He continues, "I will not have you leave in order to find refuge with the Christian's of England. You swore your loyalty to me, Artemis."
Oh.
Was that where all the questioning came from? Ivar was afraid of betrayal. If she could betray the gods of her ancestors then she could easily betray him.
Though that was hardly fair.
"I did swear loyalty, under threat of death." She responds quietly, holding the broom tightly.
Edda and the thrall from earlier were walking about now, getting ingredients ready for dinner. They were listening to the conversation, she knew, it was evident in the way they moved.
"And the death threat still stands if you choose to run away upon arriving to England." He was always so careless in the way he said things, so nonchalant about everything, but it was a rare moment in which Ivar let's his vulnerability slip.
Artemis caught it, the little sad twinkle in his lidded eyes. She may not have known him long enough, but she knew when his demeanor faltered. Although his tone was soft, his threat still stood strong.
"And what if I were to escape?" She stupidly decides to challenge, "England must be a large land, I could go anywhere."
"I would hunt you down, and kill you," Ivar growls, "And I'd feed you to the hounds. The choice is yours." He shrugs in the end, hiding his anger from just moments before.
Artemis's throat runs dry, and she let's out a breath she had been holding in.
"I cannot deny your skill, even if you are a slave," Ivar says, smiling at her reaction, "You have clearly proven useful in your old life and your new. It would be considered an honor to join the sons of Ragnar on their quest." His tone was matter a fact, as if he were granting her the highest honor. She supposed it was better than staying in Kattegat, but to be a blacksmith slave did not sit right with her.
"It brings me joy to know that I have proven my worth, but to be a slave..." She let's her statement hang loose, choosing instead to lower her eyes towards the floor.
"Nevermind that," Ivar responds with a snort, "The topic of your enslavement will be discussed after we have defeated King Ecbert and Alle."
She looks at him again. The cripple never fails to surprise her. The wheels were turning in her head once again, and after a minute she offered Ivar the smallest of smiles that she never thought possible.
Would he actually free her?
"If it is the Prince's pleasure," She begins, "Then I would be honored to join him."
Ivar smiles at her. It was a charming smile, served to brighten his features quite pleasantly. He suddenly hops off the stool, pushing the seat aside and pushing the door closed. Then he slithers over to her, his cloak billowing like black wings from behind him.
She blinks down at him when he stops at her feet, yanking the fine fur cloak off of himself before shoving the fabric up towards her.
"Here," He grunts, "You need it more than I do." She cocks her head slightly, her fingers hesitant in taking it from him.
"Take it." He insists, pushing it into her hands, grunting again when she finally takes it from him.
Artemis stares at the fine cloak, feeling the soft wolf hair under her dry hands. It was of extremly high quality, fit for a noble, and it put her own worthless cloak to shame.
"Prince Ivar, I-"
"You are cold," He mutters, not able to look at her, "I could feel it in your fingers." Was all he says before quickly crawling away towards his chamber. Artemis stares after him, bringing the warm cloak closer to her chest. She bends to sniff the fur collar, burying her nose in the soft hairs. The scent of pine leaves invaded her senses as she gently inhales.
Prince Ivar smelled of fresh pine. It was...nice.
"Seems the youngest Prince likes you," Edda cuts into her thoughts, but she doesn't turn to look at the older woman, her eyes following Ivar's trail instead.
"Lucky girl." Edda mutters, "Come help me in the kitchens if you can." She disappears into the kitchen, leaving Artemis alone in the small hall.
Again, she sniffs at the cloak, finding herself smiling in its warmth.
...
@didiintheblog @heavenly1927
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duhragonball · 4 years
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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (116/?)
Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.
Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.
Previous chapters conveniently available here.
[12 March, 233 Before Age.  Ristet IV.]
Yesterday, Zatte had killed an alien invader, single-handedly liberating the  Ristet IV.     Unfortunately, her swift assassination left no clues about the invader's origins or intentions.     Her best guess was that he was simply an opportunist seeking to exploit the chaos of the Federation-Jindan War for the sake of looting.  His spaceship contained no useful data that would confirm or refute this theory.  
Nor did the jamming device he had set up in orbit around the planet.    With the invader dead, there was no one to stop Zatte from taking his own ship into orbit and using it to find the jammer.     Once this was done, she quickly radioed the Federation starfleet nearby and inform them that the situation was under control.
With that matter resolved, Zatte finally returned to her own vessel, the star-yacht Emerald Eye, to take care of one last responsibility.    She docked the invader's one-seat pod in the cargo bay, and met Dotz in her usual haunt, the observation deck.    Night had fallen at the spaceport where the Eye was undergoing repairs, and Dotz had shut off the interior lighting of the deck, leaving herself illuminated only by her collection of candles, and the starlight that shone through the transparent dome covering the deck.  Zatte entered, and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Dotz.   She saw no point in any greeting or preamble, and simply started talking.
"So yeah, I had a vision once," she began.   "An epiphany.  It showed me that Luffa is destined to be an important part of the divine plan."
The fortune-teller nodded pleasantly and seemed to consider these words for longer than Zatte would have liked.    She was uncomfortable enough discussing such a personal experience out loud, and she doubted that any reaction from Dotz would put her at ease.    Even so, she felt Dotz had earned her respect, and she was determined to share this.
"One god, or many?" Dotz finally asked.  
"Huh?"
"Well, uh, I get a lot of clients who have religious experiences," she said.  "I find it helpful to know if we're talking about monotheism or polytheism before we discuss it."  She paused before adding:  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to make it sound like your experience was commonplace.  Um, it does happen to a lot of people, but that doesn't make your experience any less special."
"No, it's okay," Zatte said.  "I just never considered that before.  I'm so used to being on my own with this, that I never thought of comparing notes with anyone.  We... we call it Providence, and consider it uncountable."
"I see," Dotz said.  
"Luffa hates it when aliens compare her to supernatural figures, like angels or goddesses.  She feels like it dismisses her  accomplishments as a mortal warrior."
"I see that a lot too," Dotz said.  "A lot of powerful people struggle with the idea of fate, or a higher authority."
"I don't think of her like that.  I mean, she's sacred, but not divine," Zatte said.  
"What did you see?" Dotz asked.  "In your vision, I mean?    Did Providence speak to you?"
Zatte didn't answer right away.  Something about the way the older woman said "Providence" without really knowing what it meant.    It was respectful enough, but it still bothered her somehow.   "Maybe this is a bad idea.  I... I don't know if I should be talking about it."
"Oh.   You didn't hear a voice," Dotz said.  "It was more of a feeling, one that you recognized immediately."
Zatte was beginning to stand up when Dotz said this.    She knew Dotz had clairvoyant abilities, but somehow those abilities still had a way of catching her by surprise.  
"We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to," Dotz said.  "But I don't want to make you think that your experience doesn't count.  There's no rule that says you have to hear a voice, or see a certain thing."
Zatte sat back down and gathered the will to continue.  "Luffa saved me," she said.  Not in the vision, I mean.    She was saving me in real life when I had the vision.  I was... well it's a long story, but I was sick.  She purged that sickness from me with her powers.    And while she did, she managed to do the same for a lot of other people at the same time."
"From what I've seen, that sounds like a typical day for her," Dotz said.  "Not to diminish what she does, but..."
"This was different," Zatte said.  "At least, different for me.  As I recovered, I could feel her mind touching my own.  I understood what it was like for her.  Just... just this constant drive to fight and prove herself.  Like a surf pounding at the shore."
"Go on."
"Well, I just remember feeling so... restored.  I was finally myself again.  And she was doing something so good for the universe.  She was purging a great evil, and I don't think she even really knew how important that was.  It just pissed her off, so she struck back.  And something told me.  Not with words, really.  I just remembered thinking that this was the sort of thing she was meant to do.  And it felt so right to think of that that, like it was the truest thing I've ever known."
"And you still feel that way," Dotz surmised.    Zatte was nodding in agreement before she could even finish saying it.
"This war... well, I think it's the start of something big, like everything is coming to a head," Zatte said.   "I don't have any way to be sure, but she's beaten just about everyone else in the galaxy.    If she defeats Trismegistus and the Saiyans working for him, then there's no one left to oppose her.   I don't know what'll happen, but there's all these signs.   Her son, the Saiyan Free Company, they're all showing up to help her save their people.   And... well, you being here can't be a coincidence, right?"  
"Me?" Dotz asked.  
"Well, sure," Zatte said.   "You're like a prophet, bearing witness to whatever comes next.   It's got to mean something.   I'm sure of it."    
"I... I don't see how," Dotz said.   "My abilities changed after Luffa helped me out of that coma, but I still have a blind spot where her own future is concerned.    I still can't tell how her battle in the Fedender system is going."
"It'll work out," Zatte said.   "Somehow.   Why don't you try again?   We can't radio Fedender while their communications are being jammed, so for the time being, you're all we've got."
Zatte didn't like asking this of her.   It made it sound like she was admitting that she didn't trust Luffa to take care of herself.    And Dotz seemed to be frustrated with the "blind spot" in her abilities.    But they didn't have much else to do, and Dr. Topsas was away, and she still worried about Luffa, even if there was no need.  
With a heavy sigh, Dotz nodded, and began reshuffling her cards.  
*******
[12 March, 233 Before Age.  Nagaoka.]
It was something of a relief for Trismegistus to disrobe.  The heavy garment had its uses, but one of them was the dramatic impact it had when he took it off.    So many of his followers rarely got to see his face, and so it became something of an honor when he revealed it to them.    It was important to make even simple gestures like these take on a greater significance.   The cloak landed at his feet with a thud, thanks to the iridium weights sewn into the lining.   A minor touch, but one he enjoyed.
Behind him, Treekul stood at ease, awaiting his next command.    He felt a twinge of shame at the high priestess "costume" he had arranged for her.  Was it really necessary to objectify her in such a revealing outfit?  Probably not, though it kept her off-balance, and he did enjoy her figure, even if he found her lavender skin off-putting.    He often thought that she would look so much lovelier with a Saiyan complexion.   Perhaps he would alter her pigmentation someday, to suit his own aesthetic.  That thought also embarrassed him a little, but he didn't allow it to bother him.   Treekul belonged to him now.  She wasn't indoctrinated like the cultists, but that made no difference, since she was trapped on the planet with no way to survive except by his favor.    He would do with her as he saw fit, and for now, she served him best as a symbol of power to display before the others.
Before him, one of his newest followers, Lesseri, knelt before him in supplication.  She was like most Saiyans-- proud, stubborn, ambitious-- but those qualities made Saiyans very easy to control.  He had promised her great power, and in return, he had asked for her complete devotion.  It was an easy bargain for Saiyans like Lesseri.  They all craved more power, and they cared little for how they got it, or who they had to thank.  But once they got the power they craved, they always craved a little more, and that was when they would finally begin to have second thoughts about their choices.
"Rise, Faithful Lesseri," he finally said.  
"Thank you, my lord," she replied as she stood.  He hadn't given her permission to speak yet, but she was still new to the cult, and that lesson could wait for another time.  For now, it was best to teach her about matters that already held her attention.
"What troubles you, child?" he asked.  He addressed them all this way, even the ones who were older than himself.    It was important to condition them to think of him as their superior in every sense.
"I... well, I think there was something wrong with my initiation rites, sir."
The reluctance in her voice was music to his ears.  She had only just joined his flock, and she was already unsure about defying him.  Oh, she had been very vocal about her complaints in private, or rather, what she assumed was privacy.  But now that she stood face to face with him, she was much more careful with her words.  She would make a fine servant.
"Something wrong with the initiation rites?" he asked.  "Why do you say that, child?  You fasted for three days, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"You drank the elixir, I prepared for you, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"You observed all of the other sacred rites.  The garland, the linen belt, the oath of the yoke."
"Yes, sir."
"And you have become stronger than you were before you came to me.   You feel it, don't you?"  Trismegistus asked.
"Very much, my lord," Lesseri said.  "But..."
"But it's not enough," he said, anticipating her next words.  "Is it?"  
"I, er, don't mean to seem ungrateful, sir..."
"Why do you feel cheated, Lesseri?" he asked.   There was no anger or hurt in his voice.    He spoke kindly and patiently, as if the implied accusation in her words did not exist.  "You may speak freely.  In fact, I command it."
She hesitated, then said: "Guwar, sir.  He was weaker than me before we joined you.  Now he and I both have the Jindan power, and he's stronger than I am."
"Oh?" he said.  "And what of it?"
"You gave him more power than you gave me!" Lesseri said.  "It isn't fair!"  She had tried to be obeisant and respectful, but now her frustration and outrage began to well up inside her.   She believed he was playing dumb with her, and she was right.   It wasn't fair.   The lesson she needed to learn had nothing to do with fairness.    
"Let's say you're right," Trismegistus said.   "What do you plan to do about it?"
Her building defiance suddenly melted away.   Lesseri took a step back from him, as though the question itself had physically shoved her.    
"Well?" he asked.   "I did order you to speak your mind, Lesseri.   Speak."
He enjoyed making them squirm like this.   Saiyans like Lesseri thought they would do anything for greater strength, but 'anything' included far, far more than they ever bothered to consider.  
"I... I only want what you promised me--" Lesseri said slowly.
"No," Trismegistus said.   "You gave yourself to me, Lesseri, and I gave you Jindan in return.  As far as I'm concerned, our transaction is concluded.   What you're asking for now is to be stronger than Guwar.   And I could make you stronger, but you have nothing else to bargain with.   Everything you have, everything you are, is mine.   Guwar is mine.    I owe you nothing.   So I'll ask again: what are you going to do about it?"
He looked at Treekul while he waited for Lesseri to come up with an answer.     "What do you think, Treekul?" he asked idly.  
The alien woman rubbed the back of her buzzcut and smiled uneasily.    "Well, she could always quit the cult, right?" Treekul said.    
"Yes, she could.   You both saw what happened to Salziff when he left my flock," Trismegistus said.    "Jindan exacts a tremendous price.   Allow me to demonstrate."
Lesseri suddenly collapsed, and a red aura glowed faintly around her body.    
"No!" she moaned.    "I didn't mean--!   I never wanted--!"
"Unlike you, dear Treekul," he said, "Lesseri is free to leave us at any time.   However, if she goes, she won't get to take the Jindan power with her."
"You can remove it at will?" Treekul asked.   She stepped forward to help Lesseri, then thought better of it.    The two women had been allies for a time, and it pleased Trismegistus to separate them this way.  Treekul's best chance to survive was to at play along with the role he had laid out for her.    She would eventually seek an opportunity to escape, but first she had to earn his trust, which meant that she couldn't squander it by defying him openly.    That was the alien's hope, but it was hollow.   The fact was that Trismegistus would never trust her, no matter what she did or didn't do.    But he would string her along, and make her think her plan was working, and she would continue to obey him, waiting for a chance that would never come.  As for Lesseri...
"The Jindan elixir binds the user's ki with my own," he explained.    "Increasing their power is a somewhat complicated operation, but taking it away?   For me, it is as simple as contracting a muscle.   But it's not as simple as filling a cup with fresh wine.    A little of the user's ki is mingled in the process, and so when I rescind my gift, the subject always ends up weaker than when she began."
As he said this, the red aura vanished from Lesseri's body, and she looked at her open palms in abject horror.   "No!" she gasped.  
"Take heart, Lesseri," Trismegistus said.   "You're still stronger than Guwar was before he accepted the Jindan power.   That must be of some consolation to you."
"Please!" she begged.   "I never said I wanted to leave you!    I only wanted to be stronger!"
Trismegistus made a cruel smile.    "I have no intention of driving you out," he said.    "I will return what I have taken from you, Lesseri... tomorrow, I think.   That will give you time to reconsider things.    And you'll have to prepare for the initiation rites again."
Lesseri made an audible gulp.   "Again?" she asked in a small voice.
"I'm afraid restoring Jindan to you isn't as easy as taking it away," Trismegistus said.   "At least you won't have to repeat the Crucible.   Others have not been so fortunate."
Lesseri began to weep softly.    As she did, he turned to Treekul and addressed her.
"Tell me, Treekul.   What question should Lesseri have asked me?"
Treekul considered this for a moment, and then shrugged her shoulders.  "I'm not sure," she admitted, "but I'm curious about why Guwar got more from the same dose of Jindan elixir.  Does it depend on the person, or is that something you can control?"
"Very good, my priestess," he said.  "Lesseri can learn a great deal from you already.  The problem is that she has a lot to unlearn as well."
"So this is some kind of ideological thing," Treekul guessed.  "Guwar was favored because he had greater faith, or because he was worthier in some way."
"It's more complicated than that," Trismegistus said.  He looked down at Lesseri, who was still cowering at his feet.  "Up on your feet, my child.  You're weakened, but you have enough strength to stand, don't you?"  He waited for her to rise before he continued.  "I need the Saiyans, Treekul.  I need them as much as they need me.  With each one who joins my fold and receives my sacrament, I grow stronger.  In return, I give them strength, purpose, and order."
He walked around the spot where Lesseri stood, and when he was close enough, he reached out and seized her tail in his hand.  Lesseri winced with pain, but didn't move.
"You know that a Saiyan's tail is their weak point," he said.
"I've heard," Treekul said.  "But I've also heard most Saiyans train their tails to overcome that problem."
"That's right," he said.  "Lesseri is a fine example.  If she hadn't rigorously trained herself, she would be overcome with agony right now.  Left untrained, simple squeeze of my hand would make her helpless, but instead I can only make her uncomfortable.  But why should she have a tail at all?"
"The great ape transformation," Treekul said.  "I've never seen it, but I hear Saiyans can increase their power dramatically that way."
"That only works under the light of the full moon,"  he said, "and even then, it's a liability.  Most Saiyans lose all control of themselves in the Oozaru form.  Even the ones who don't must still be careful, because if an enemy attacks their tail, it could undo the transformation."
"I know some Saiyans cut their tails off," Treekul said.  "Including a lot of the ones here."
"Yes, and they are the ones who demonstrate true wisdom," Trismegistus said.  "So many Saiyans revere their tails, foolishly attempting to justify a vestigial organ.  They let a quirk of biology decide their strengths and weaknesses, rather than taking control of their own destinies.  Lesseri has accepted the path of wisdom already.  By accepting Jindan, she has rejected the limitations of her own body.  One day, we shall hold a ceremony, and she will cut off her own tail, proving once and for all her willingness to cast off her bodily weaknesses."
"Okay," Treekul said, "But Guwar still has his tail, at least for now.  What puts him ahead of Lesseri?"
"Guwar has kept his tail out of ignorance and complacency," Trismegistus explained.  "Other Saiyans choose to keep them, out of a misplaced sense of pride.  They have been taught by false teachers, who fill their heads with heretical nonsense.  That is what sets Lesseri apart.  That is the true weakness she must cast off.  There are many Saiyans afflicted by this corruption, but Lesseri more than most."
"I... I don't know what you're talking about!" Lesseri finally exclaimed.    He smiled at the desperation in her voice.    "My mother abandoned me to a gestation facility before I was born!  I grew up alone!  What false teacher--?"
Trismegistus grabbed her by the face, silencing her as harshly as possible.  "I speak of the antiprophet herself!" he shouted.  "The un-Saiyan, the Queen of Lies!  Or do you deny training with Luffa herself?"
The look in her terrified eyes was priceless.  Trismegistus lacked the power to read minds, but he knew enough to be assured that Lesseri would now be his forever.   She had been "hiding" this secret from him the whole time, worried that if the truth were revealed, that it would ruin her standing here.   But he had known all along.   He would never tell her how he knew.   Best to let her imagination fill in the blank for him.    She would assume he could see her thoughts, or that Treekul had betrayed her, or that she had given herself away somehow.
"Hold on," Treekul said.  "Lesseri hates Luffa.  I mean, sure, she told me once about how she trained with her, but she found the whole thing to be a waste of time, so she quit."
"Of course she did," Trismegistus said.  "Even the lost can recognize true evil when they encounter it.  Lesseri forsook the wicked, and with your guidance, Treekul, she found the divine.  That is to her credit, but her debt must still be paid.  The stain of Luffa must still be cleansed."
"Then... then it's not too late for me?"  Lesseri asked when he released her.  He could practically smell the fear coming from her.  She could not leave the cult, and so her only way forward was to embrace it as completely as she could, in the hopes of being deemed 'worthy'.  As with Treekul, Lesseri's goal was unreachable.  He would lead her towards it, offering her chances to redeem herself, but she could she ever truly be rid of the "sin" of her past association with Luffa.
"It's never too late for anyone, Lesseri," he assured her.   "But your path will be very different from Guwar's.    Much will be asked of you, and-- for a time-- you will receive little in return.   One day, you will be rewarded in full, but first we must purge you of Luffa's corruption, this sense of entitlement you have.   Luffa would have us all believe that power is a Saiyan's birthright, to be claimed through perseverance.   You cannot win supreme power by your own merit, Lesseri.   Compassion, collateral, shrewd negotiation, none of it matters.   It can only be received from higher power.   My power.    You intuited this when you first decided to seek me out.    Now, we must teach your conscious mind to understand the great truth you have discovered."
"H-how do I start?" Lesseri asked.    
Trismegistus stroked his chin for a moment as he pretended to consider the matter.   Then he gave Treekul an expectant look.  
"Um... well, if you're asking me," Treekul said with a start, "I'm new to this, but maybe some manual labor?   Yeah, nothing like some mindlessly repetitive tasks to, uh, cleanse the spirit."
"Very good," Trismegistus said.    "The breeding pits are always in need of cleaning."    He patted Lesseri on the shoulder and smiled warmly at her.     "One of the deacons will help you get started."
There was something in Lesseri's eyes that betrayed a hint of resentment, but her grateful smile marked the progress he had made.   It would take time to break Lesseri to his will, but the important thing was that he had set the terms.    She now understood that she had to mold herself to his expectations, instead of the reverse.   "Thank you, my lord," she said.    "I won't disappoint you."
"Of course not," he said.  "Now go, and let my triple-blessing fall upon your task."
Lesseri lowered her head respectfully, and after she had withdrawn from the chamber, Trismegistus turned to Treekul and chuckled.    
"Breeding pits?" Treekul asked.    "Is that what I think it is?"
"As I told you," he said.    "I need the  Saiyans as much as they need me.   Not only this generation, but the next, and the one after that.    I have facilities here on Nagaoka for incubating their progeny, and breeding partners are selected through genetic screening, but when it comes to the copulation, well--" he stepped toward her and put his arm around her waist to pull her closer.  "--sometimes the old-fashioned ways are the best."
"Yeah... but Saiyans are really uptight about that stuff," Treekul observed.  "You mean you just order them to pair off and cuddle up in some public space?"
She kept glancing down at his arm, which amused him.   She didn't like when he touched her, but she knew better than to object.   After all, the little fool needed to gain his confidence, didn't she?  
"The Saiyans have always been a prudish race," he explained.  "The breeding pits serve as a way to de-stigmatize their mating habits, and to ensure that no one shirks their duties."
"Just another way to keep them in line, isn't it?   The ones who object get singled out and punished just like Lesseri, don't they?" she asked.  
"Absolutely," he said.   "You learn quickly, my dear.   But enough of this.   I have several more alchemical lessons for you today.   Lesseri and her kind can wait for another day."  
He loosened his grip on her, only to take her by the arm instead.   As he led her to his apparatus, she resisted him with a tug.    
"Hold on," she said.   "What about Guwar?   You kept saying how exceptional he's been, but I haven't seen him since I got here."
He looked back at her with a smirk.   "I'm sure you'll see him in time, Treekul," he replied.  "Though I would remind you that the breeding pits are off-limits to non-Saiyans."
He turned and led her onward, unconcerned with how she reacted to this statement.   He suspected that she had feelings towards the Guwar, or perhaps the reverse, or perhaps neither.    The point was not to correctly guess what she was thinking, but to make her question her own thoughts, and to cloak himself with an fog of inscrutability, so that no one could be sure what he could do or not do.  
That was the key to true power, and why he so enjoyed the chance to disrobe.   He left his cloak where it lay.   Someone would fetch it for him, and consider the chore to be a tremendous honor.  
*******
[12 March, 233 Before Age.  Ristet IV.]
"The seven of knives, twelve of horses.  The black hole.  The bishop.  The nine of lances."
"What does all that mean?" Zatte asked as she looked at the cards Dotz had drawn.  
"Absolutely nothing," Dotz said.  "Well not nothing, but it's all jumbled.  Contradictory."
"I don't understand," Zatte said.
Dotz placed her fingertip on one of the cards lying face up on the table.  "This one tells me she's going on a journey very soon.  But the others indicate that she won't.  This one says she's going to die.  And this one means that she'll live a very long life."
"I would have thought that there was a consistent prediction for every possible combination of cards," Zatte said.    "Otherwise, what's the point?"
"There should be, but... well, I apply my own sensibilities when I do a reading," Dotz explained.  
Zatte noticed her tone was even more apologetic than usual.     She found it ironic that Luffa, the mightiest Saiyan of her age, had developed such a fast respect for this meek and unassuming middle-aged woman.    "The strictest interpretation of this hand is that Luffa is a very passionate person who will be experiencing a great challenge soon.  Well, pardon my saying so, but that just doesn't tell us very much at all."
"No, I suppose it doesn't tell us a whole lot," Zatte said, "but your own interpretation doesn't make sense."
"It's worse than that," Dotz continued.    She looked down at the cards scattered on the table.  "I've done a dozen readings for her, and they all end up like this.  Sometimes she meets an important man, either a stranger, or a close relative.    Sometimes she fights him.    Sometimes she receives instructions from heaven.  Other times it's like she ceases to exist.   I hoped that the cards would give me better insight, but I'm no better off than before."
"I'm sorry," Zatte said. "I wish I could help."
"It's not all bad,  I suppose.  Working on her fortune has forced me to improve my technique.  I'm no closer to reading Luffa's future, but I'm a lot more confident in predicting others."
"If that's an offer, the answer is still no," Zatte said.  "My place is beside her.  If her path is unknown, then mine should be the same."
"Of course," Dotz said. "I only meant that I could get a better reading on the next attack."
"What about the enemy's base of operations?" Zatte asked.  "These cultists keep popping up from out of nowhere.   From what I hear, Federation intelligence can only suggest that they're using cloaked ships or low-power runnings to approach undetected.    Every time we beat a few, there's always more to replace them.   If we don't find out where they're coming from, we may never stop them."
"The answer will come to us," Dotz said.  "The path of the traitor will show the way."
"A traitor?" Zatte asked.  "From our side or theirs?"
"I can't tell," Dotz said.  "I-I'm sorry.  I know there's a lot at stake, but some events are to fluid to predict."
"Don't apologize," Zatte said.  "If this is how your ability works, I'll just have to get used to it."
"I'll try again," Dotz assured her.     "Sometimes, things improve after a few hours, as we get closer to the answer.     I'll do whatever I can to get some more solid information for you."
"What about Xibuyas' fortune?" Zatte asked.  "Can you read anything about him?"
Dotz leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.  "His is a difficult path," she began.  "He will hold many levers of power, but the ones he'll actually turn will be very few."
Zatte shrugged.  "I don't know what to make of that," she said.    "Are you saying he won't prosper?"
"Not long enough to truly enjoy the rewards of his work," Dotz said.  "He sows the seeds and he tills the field, but others will eat the crop."
Zatte couldn't help but smile.   Her stepson despised Luffa, and he seemed to hate Zatte almost as much, so he probably wouldn't have appreciated the sentiment of it.    Among her own people, the Dorluns, a fate like the one Dotz just described would be very satisfying indeed.   She made a mental note to say a prayer for the boy.
"What about Fedender itself?" she suggested.    "If you can't see how Luffa's doing, maybe the planet's status is easier to read."
"Oh, that's a good idea," Dotz said.    She concentrated for several minutes, or at least Zatte assumed it was concentration, since she had no idea how Dotz did what she did.    Eventually she dealt another hand from her deck of cards, and then--
"The battle is over," Dotz said.  
"Over?" Zatte asked.   "Then why hasn't there been any word?"
Dotz grimaced as though asking the same question to whatever unseen force gave her those kinds of answers.   "I'm not sure.   The damage was extensive.    Maybe they can't restore communications, even with the enemy gone."
"Then we won?" Zatte asked.   "Are the cultists definitely off the planet?"
Dotz hesitated before replying.   "Yes," she said.    "Yes, I'm sure of it now.    They're gone, but... but they'll be coming back.   Which means Luffa will have to return there as well."  
"I don't get it," Zatte said.   "How can she return to Fedender if she hasn't even left yet?"
"She's not there anymore," Dotz said.   "I can see a woman.   One of Fedender's leaders, I imagine.    An authority figure, that much is certain.    She's watching a ship take off, and she's begging Luffa to stay."
"That doesn't make any sense," Zatte said.    "If she were headed back here, I'd have already picked her up on the long-range sensors.    And if she's not staying put on Fedender, we should have heard from some other Federation planet by now, one that's under attack and needs her help.    Where could she be going?"
"And what will happen to Fedender," Dotz asked as she slowly opened her eyes, "if Luffa doesn't return in time to help them?"
NEXT: Luffa vs. Trismegistus.
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homestretch of the hard times
@lynne-monstr for tentacletober prompt: in space
ao3 link
Alec started descent of his damaged puddlejumper with a sigh of relief, knowing that while he wasn’t safe just yet, landing somewhere was safer than drifting endlessly through space.  It took a few minutes for his jumper to dock on what he thought was an abandoned Atlantean warship, he’d used what powers his runes and gene gave him to connect with it but for a little while it had been touch and go.
There was something… not quite hostile but definitely suspicious about the warship.  It made him wary but desperate situations sometimes called for reckless choices and this was one of them. 
He was hopeful to find something he could use on the warship, to either repair the damage to his jumper or to contact Atlantis or even their Alpha Site.  His people were probably frantic with worry and he didn’t trust anyone to run Atlantis while panicked, the last time they’d done that Atlantis had nearly been taken over by hostiles.  It might have been a forgivable mistake, if he hadn’t later found out that Jace’s team had invited the hostiles in at Clary’s behest. 
Alec rubbed his head, trying to ignore the headache he had building and tapped his fingers on the console.  Scans showed the ship to be viable so he left all but his weapons on the jumper, sealing it back after him and activating it’s camouflage cloaking as he did.
The warship was huge, a beautiful but obsolete memoriam to a long past age.  Alec stretched before pulling out his life detector, frowning as it glitched, the screen crackling ominously before it went blank.
“Odd,” he murmured under his breath and then continued to walk forward, more warily this time.  One of his hands trailed along the cool metal of the walls as he sought out the ships core, hoping to connect with it and awaken what he could.  Despite the age, there was still a spark of energy in the ship and the further he walked the more connected he became. What was strange was that the deeper into the hull he walked the more he found a plethora of a near plant like organism.  At first it had worried him, reminding him of the Wraith but then he’d noticed that it lacked the smell of decay and rot, instead filling the ship with the strong scent of brine, not unlike the ocean.  
Deciding to chance it he continued to walk, fingers trailing and dancing between an odd pattern of the strange, sinuous vines and cool metal.  He was nearing the physical core of the ship where the ZPM would be if there was one, when he paused, frowning as his fingers caught. Hesitant to just start shooting, he drew his knife as he stepped closer to the wall, wondering just what had caught on his skin.  
One of the vines was hanging loose and part of it had strange circles that were latched tightly to the skin of his wrist, he sighed before tucking the knife between his teeth to first try and pull it away.  It went, though not easily and when it was off, Alec stepped away from the wall, frowning at his hand and the trail of light pink marks on his skin.   
He gave the wall a wary look and walked to the ZPM, noticing that this room seemed to have the most life in both energy and the weird-plant.  The ZPM console itself was dark, near lifeless and covered with grime as he knelt, placing his hands against it and reaching out only to feel something strange, nothing like the cool presence of Atlantis.  This was warm, like fire and it echoed in his mind in language he couldn't understand, just the same wordMagnus-Magnus-Magnus- over and over again.  
“Shadowhunter energy.”  The voice suddenly murmured, “virgin shadowhunter energy. ”  
Alec felt a dull heat on his cheeks and the back of his neck and frowned, it was nobody's business that he was a virgin or that he apparently had a weird energy because of it.  Especially not some old ship’s AI, he cleared his throat and took his hand away from the console. The voice was quiet without him touching it but now he could hear other things, like footsteps.  
Alec turned, hand dropping to his weapon and found himself staring at a man.
A man who was tall and broad, extremely broad with muscles that would probably do terrible things to Alec’s laundry if he were to lend him a shirt.  Which he wouldn’t. For reasons. Reasons such as being able to admire smooth brown skin and the chiseled torso he was currently staring at. 
“I need your strength,” the man said with his smooth, hypnotic voice and his luminous golden eyes and Alec felt himself nodding, even as adrenaline started to spike.  “Don’t worry,” he said softly and suddenly he was close, his hand a cool balm against Alec’s flushed cheek, “I won’t take much.”  
The vines that Alec had forgotten about suddenly came to life and he jerked as they grabbed ahold of him.  They wrapped around him tightly, pinning his arms to his sides and keeping him still as the man... as Magnus’ free hand took one of Alec’s and tangled their fingers together. 
“You’ll see me soon,” he was promised and then darkness.
-
Magnus looked at delight in the nephilim warrior who had happened upon his temporary home.  It had been a long time since he’d seen another living being, though how long he truly wasn’t sure.  He’d taken to hibernating to conserve energy and had stretched himself across the ship, just in case someone came and finally , they did.
Taking the nephilim’s energy wouldn’t hurt him, just refresh Magnus and make his new companion a bit more docile when he woke again.  Magnus wasn’t quite sure what the relations between nephilim and warlocks were these days.  
This one might be dressed very oddly but Magnus was sure he was a nephilim, a child of the Atlanteans the Ascended had blessed.  Magnus himself was the son of a Descended, a being who had decided to use their powers to interfere and had been cast out of Ascension and cursed to wander the stars simply because they’d had opinions about how mortals lived.  Personally, Magnus thought the whole thing a trite affair and a rather ridiculous punishment but alas, he was merely the offspring of one punished, not a perpetrator himself. 
Though he had a feeling he hadn’t done himself any favors attempting to figure out how to recreate the powers of a Gateway using only his own energy.  That was how he’d come to be stranded on this ship after all and now that he’d been joined by-
Magnus frowned and looked at his sleeping companion, poking at the bulky outfit he wore and feeling delight when he noticed a strip of writing, now wasn't that helpful.  Having Alexander’s name inscribed on his clothing so that Magnus could know it, so thoughtful though not very smart, what if he’d run into an enemy?  Never a wise move, to give a name to an enemy.  
-but, well now that he’d been joined by his Alexander , things were finally looking up.
Feeling revitalized for the first time since he’d been marooned, Magnus carefully tightened the grip of his tentacles and carried Alexander to his room.  He normally just used it to store his body while in hibernation but still, he’d done with it what he could and it was actually what he considered to be the most comfortable yet elegant place on the ship.  Hopefully, the nephilim would think so as well.
It didn’t take long, Magnus had been gentle after all and it wasn’t like Alexander had been doing anything with all that energy, for him to wake up.  
“How do you feel, Alexander?”  He asked, one of his tentacles petting through his shadowhunter’s hair.  He hadn’t touched another in so long and it was so soft, so very fluffy and if he’d had any less self control, there would be a whole lot more of him touching Alexander, he was so deliciously warm compared to metal of the ship.  
“Wha-“ Alexander blinked, such pretty odd eyes, like the surface of a planet Magnus no longer remembered the name of.  “Magnus?” he finally asked and Magnus couldn’t help but reach out and press a thumb to Alexander’s lips in delight.
“Say it again?”  He asked, his soul hungry to be known.  
“Magnus.”
-
Alec was confused, worried and a little aroused which was not how potential hostage situations normally went for him.  His siblings and pretty much the entirety of his crew were usually the ones seduced into trouble, Alec was the reasonable one who knew and practiced self-control.  
Here with someone he was pretty sure was called Magnus -who had knocked him unconscious, somehow stolen his energy, known he was a virgin and now knew his name -he suddenly had a better understanding of how they all got into so much trouble.  
“Thank you,” Magnus said earnestly and then his hand, not one of the many tentacles still holding Alec down, but the one pressed against his mouth was cupping his jaw.  “Thank you, Alexander.”
It took a little while for Alec’s heart to stop racing and for him to realize that beyond a little tired, he really did feel fine.  What wasn’t fine was the way he had a perpetual blush, the fact that everywhere Magnus’ touched felt like a spark of electricity and the fact that while Magnus tried to explain his situation, Alec kept having to ask him to repeat himself.
“Are you, did I take too much or too fast?”  Magnus finally asked and he’d been close the entire time they talked but now, with both hands cupping Alec’s face and several of his tentacles pressed against his neck, Alec felt like he couldn’t breath.  
“I’m good.”  He managed to get out, “it’s just, a lot.”  
Magnus looked disappointed, his hands and several of his tentacles retreating and Alec winced, too much of a coward to explain it was Alec’s attraction to him that was too much, not the man himself.  
“So am I the first person who’s stumbled across you?”  He asked, pushing aside Magnus’ beauty and the fact that he was some incredibly powerful Ancient descendent in favor of more information, “in all this time?”
“A few stopped by but could never land.  The docking mechanism takes the ancient’s power.”   Magnus explained and he reached out to run a thumb over Alec’s hand, “I have a mutated version of it, similar to your own.  However it’s a different kind and it took nearly everything I had to keep this ship floating and safe, I couldn’t hail anyone else.” 
“But you’re okay?”  Alec asked, unable to help the worry that stirred in his chest.
“For the most part.”  Magnus promised, “and the scans show that your own ship is easily fixed.  A night or two here and it’ll be ready to go.”  
“And you’ll come with me?”  He was fairly certain but he still felt the need to ask, to make sure that Magnus knew he understand the position he’d been in, Alec had been hurt far worse by people in less desperate situations.  Hell, Maia had kidnapped his sister and dragged her on the run before demanding she cut out the Wraith tracker embedded near Maia’s spine and their relationship seemed to be working out.  
In fact, he was positive that if he’d requested it, Magnus would have already untied him; the reason he hadn’t asked for that was not something he was going to think about at the moment.  Maybe later, in private. Or never. Never worked well too. Alec was used to denial, it shouldn’t be that bad.  
Meanwhile, Magnus looked pleasantly surprised, “I would do anything to leave this place, Alexander.  To leave with you , that is the true gift.”    
Magnus looked so happy, truly happy and his tentacles tightened and Alec swallowed as he reflexively pressed his wrists and arms against the firm hold and felt them gently keep him in place.
He was in so much trouble.
-
It got both worse and better, at some point Magnus had realized he was practically in Alec’s lap and he’d apologized, looking both a little sheepish and a little forlorn before a blank mask took over and wiped his face clear of emotions.  Alec mourned for it, already missing the spark in Magnus’ eyes and the soft smile on his lips or the wonder in his voice.
His tentacles retreated too, the odd appendages that Alec had tried very hard not to focus on too much.  It was rude and he didn’t want Magnus to think that Alec thought there was anything wrong with him.  Sure, Alec may have never met anyone with tentacles before but he was in another galaxy now and Alec’s home planet was a stagnant, stupid little spin-top full of idiots.  If Magnus happened to have tentacles and be the most gorgeous being he’d ever met, well he’d thank the stars and leave it at that.  
Alec had offered food and Magnus had jumped at the chance, stomach rumbling in a way that he didn’t seem to notice but it had been so cute that Alec had blushed for him.  The walk to the jumper was quiet, Magnus seemed distracted and closed off but it was hard to really believe that when his tentacles kept looping around Alec’s wrist or settling over his shoulder and one particularly persistent one had replaced his belt.  Alec still wasn’t certain how or when that had happened and it turned a truly unfortunate noise of discovery into a yelp when he bit his lip in surprise.
Magnus’ mask had fallen, worry in his face as he cupped Alec’s jaw and Alec had swallowed back a mortified whimper when Magnus thumb had pressed tenderly down on his lip.  
“You’re hurt,” Magnus said and it took everything he had for Alec not to give in and press a kiss against his finger.  
“I’m fine,” he managed to choke out and his lip tingled as Magnus moved away, watching him worriedly, “oh look, the ship!”  He said, pointing to where the ship was and idiotically forgetting that the cloak was on. Magnus looked, brow furrowed in confusion as Alec mentally cursed himself out, “right, uhm.  There.”  
The cloak faded and Magnus made a noise of joy as Alec ushered him aboard, immediately going straight for his satchel and pulling out the food he’d stored there.  He kept back an MRI for himself and offered Magnus the fresh food he’d packed along with the chocolate bars he had hidden in his gear. 
Magnus noticed the difference in their meals, because of course he did and Alec just shrugged, playing it off as no big deal but Magnus seemed to think differently, giving him a dangerously fond smile and telling him, “you’re a sweet man Alexander.”
Alec took another bite of cold ravioli and mourned his fleeting sanity.  He’d faced the Wraith and his mother’s wrath without wavering but it was Magnus smiling him that would be his undoing, the tentacle still masquerading as his belt tightened as if in sympathy.  
-
Alec wasn’t exactly sure just how much time had passed, only that he was tired yet invigorated and the more he talked to Magnus the more he was sure that his attraction was reciprocated. 
“You’re exhausted,” Magnus said at one point, “I’ve kept you up far too late.  Especially after taking so much of your energy.” He looked almost wistful as he said it, “can I offer you a bed?  Or the closest thing I have to one?”
“Are you asking if you can take me to bed?”  Alec blurted out, hope making him giddy and stumble over his words.  
Magnus froze, eyes shuttering and he raised a hand to fiddle with the metal jewel adorning the shell of his ear.  
Alec wanted to kiss it.
“I could sleep elsewhere, or keep watch from outside or something... if that makes you uncomfortable.”  
“It doesn’t.”  Alec hurried to assure him, “I mean you took my energy, you might as well take me too.”  Alec teased but he meant it, licking his lips as he looked Magnus up and down in what he hoped was a seductive manner.
Magnus was only, well... he wasn’t human and he wasn’t mortal but he only had so much self-restraint.  To have Alec offer him this and know how much trust and intimacy were shared in bed, Magnus didn’t have the strength to turn him down and he didn’t want to.
“Are you sure?”  He asked softly, “I took your strength earlier Alexander, you don’t need to offer this to me as well.”
“It’s a selfish request, Magnus.”  Alec promised and stepped closer to him, touching Magnus willingly and with a purpose, “I want you, but only if you want me too.”
“I want you,” Magnus promised and he thought that after centuries of being alone, the most important thing would be leaving this place.  Instead, what suddenly mattered the most was how Alec would feel against him, how he would taste and sound and look and Magnus swallowed back a groan of desire at the thought, stepping forward.
“Wait,” Alec said suddenly and then hurried to explain, “does this mean that my energy won’t work for you anymore though?  If I’m not a virgin?” Alec was worried now that the idea had formed, after all Magnus had been alone for centuries and if not sleeping together meant he could help him out, well then he was willing to make that sacrifice.  At least until they were in a safer place.  
“Alexander,” Magnus said and Alec was surprised to see a hint of pink on his cheeks, “that was a joke, darling.  I wasn’t actually serious about that part of your energy being important. Call it poor humor after decades of isolation?  I wanted to make an entrance.”
Alec groaned, too tired and too turned on to actually be mortified, shaking his head as a tentacle pulled him closer to Magnus.  A kiss was pressed against his cheek and he shivered, “forgive me?” Was whispered gently next to his ear and Alec nodded, overwhelmed with the feeling of how much he would do, how much he would give if it was Magnus who asked.
All his life he’d wondered what it would take to meet someone who would make him feel like this, someone he trusted instinctively and who trusted him.  It wouldn’t be perfect, he knew that much but this, meeting Magnus was worth everything, he’d just had to travel to another galaxy to be found.  
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Run Away with Me | Bodhi Rook x Reader (Oneshot)
Word Prompt: Pining
Words: 2612
Fandom: Rogue One (Star Wars)
Summary: Growing up with Bodhi Rook, you had ideas of what kind of future you wanted, but life doesn’t always go according to plan. If it was meant to be, you will meet each other again. Title inspired by Eastside by Benny Blanco, Halsey, and Khalid
-
It was your neighbor, Bodhi Rook, that started your fascination with the stars. You remembered late nights where the two of you would climb onto the roof and trace out patterns in the sky. Then, you’d listen to him plan out how he’ll reach those stars, becoming a pilot and explore.
The two of you were young at the time and didn’t really have an idea of what was going on around you. To you, the world was just you, Bodhi, the sands of Jedha, and the stars above. Bodhi would even say that he’d take you anywhere once he became a pilot and have his own ship. The way the stars reflected in his eyes, it was hard to say no.
Then, you had to move away. Your parents were restless and you didn’t know why. How could you? The world you saw didn’t include politics and war. You thought your father was a simple businessman, a trader, who would travel to different moons and planets to earn money for the family. Turns out, it started that way, until he realized how much more money he could earn from being a smuggler. His contacts increased, the credits increased, and the danger increased. And somehow, along the way, he had crossed a member of the Empire.
It was no longer safe for your family in Jedha. You didn’t even get to say goodbye.
-
Being a smuggler’s daughter has its pros and cons. You found out what you were good at, negotiations, creating alliances, and reading people, and you were quick to learn how to use a blaster. Plus, you get to explore and see different worlds, meet various species, and learn different languages. This wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but smugglers can’t be choosers.
You had heard about the Empire occupying Jedha and your mind went immediately to Bodhi. Is he safe? Is he still on Jedha? Did he ever get to become a pilot like he wanted? It had been years since you saw him and you try to shake it off as a childhood crush that you needed to get over. What are the chances in this vast universe of seeing him again?
You often follow your father during the meet ups while your mother stayed on the ship, running it for a quick getaway. With you by his side, you were able to play good smuggler, bad smuggler to get the deal you wanted. Only when he knew it would work, of course. Some species or settlements were more violent than others, so he taught you how to pick and choose your battles.
“Sometimes a deal isn’t worth it,” he had said.
One day, your father caught a virus from another planet and it would take weeks or months to recover. So, your mother stayed behind with him on a neutral planet while you went off on your own. You took on simple jobs to start off with, but traveling alone was driving you mad, so you managed to buy a scraped up droid and found some spare parts to fix her up. Desa, you called her, because of the faint red and brown paint that reminded you of the deserts and mesas of Jedha. Now, it was just you and her.
-
You couldn’t believe that the Empire was able to build something as destructible as the Death Star, powered by the kyber crystals that they had mined from Jedha and the other planets that they probably occupied. Jedha was merely a test subject for their new toy. Your home was gone. You remembered looking up at the stars, tracing patterns in the sky, hoping that your stargazer friend escaped. At this point, you weren’t even sure if he was still alive.
You tried your best to remain neutral throughout your jobs, only accepting deals that won’t drastically compromise your stance. After what they had done, you were definitely against the Empire and only prayed that something would be done to stop them before more people die and homes obliterated.
It was getting harder not to pick a side. The more you travel, the more people you see that were just trying to survive. Suddenly, it wasn’t just illegal weapons and materials that needed smuggling, it was people. Families trying to escape the war. You couldn’t just let them die.
“It’s your call,” Desa said, “I will follow.”
Just like that, you were smuggling refugees to safer planets and moons, settlements that were welcoming them in and fought against the Empire. You try your best to save as much as you can, avoiding both stormtroopers and Rebels along the way. You didn’t always succeed. Some were lost causes, some were so close to a safe haven.
“We just need hope to keep us going,” a mother said to her family.
The settlement that you took them to were attacked a few weeks later. You almost wrecked the ship when you found out, but Desa had easily restrained you until you calmed down, collapsing in her cold metal arms.
You later hear in the corner of a shady tavern that the Resistance managed to destroy the Death Star. The war was still raging, but at least the looming threat was gone.
-
“I don’t do these kinds of jobs, Edwards,” you told one of your contacts.
A contact that you’ve known for years had recently joined the Rebel Alliance and contacted you for a smuggling job. You gave it a shot and met him on a neutral planet in one of their taverns, finding the man in a corner booth. It was then when he proposed a job that would help the Rebels against the Empire, involving using your ship to transport some of their men for their missions.
“But, I’ve heard that you’ve been specializing in… people,” Edwards said, low enough so that only the two of you could hear.
You sighed, looking over at Desa who shrugged stiffly. “I don’t do escorts,” you repeated to him.
“We’ll pay you for each trip,” he insisted, sliding a datapad towards you, showing you his offer.
It was a lot, more than three jobs of smuggling a refugee family. Funds were running low as your ship was getting older and more repairs needed to be done. It would be easier to buy a new ship, but you were sentimental and it was your first ship that you bought with your father.
“It’s your call,” Desa said.
“I knew you would say that,” you muttered, sliding the datapad back. You drummed your fingers on the table and leaned back, adjusting your leather jacket. “How many groups?”
Edwards shook his head. “Just one. Rogue One,” he said.
“Never heard of them.”
“They’re the crew that infiltrated Scarif and stole the Death Star blueprints that helped the Alliance take it down,” he whispered, looking around for people listening in.
“And why do you need my ship?”
“Everyone sees you as a neutral party, a simple smuggler. Their U-Wing and cargo ship are recognized by certain groups that are affiliated with the Empire and those who holds a grudge on them from a mission or two. I’ll tell you the details of their mission only if you accept.”
You sighed again. “Fine.”
The next morning you waited by the docking area, Desa scanning the area with a metal hands wrapped around a blaster rifle. It was ten minutes passed the promised meet up time when Edwards finally appeared with cloaked figures trailing behind him. You adjusted your stance, readying for any potential threats.
“Edwards,” you greeted the man.
“(Y/n), this is the crew I was talking about. I’m sure you’ve received their mission briefing,” he said, gesturing to the group behind them. One figure in particular looked restless.
“I have. Show me your hands,” you ordered, eyeing the group. Desa poised her rifle, warning them to not test her.
“Do as she says,” Edwards told them calmly.
They slowly raised their hands, showing them empty. When Desa was satisfied, she nodded at you. “Alright. My ship, my rules. If anything arises that goes against the deal, it’s over and I’ll either eject you into space or drop you off at the nearest neutral settlement. Depends on the occasion,” you said.
One person nodded, stepping forward, revealing a man with soft brown hair and a stubble wearing a blue fur parka and a blaster strapped to his leg. “I’m Captain Cassian Andor,” he said, shaking your hand, then gestured towards the tall thin figure, “That’s K-2SO.”
“I’m perfectly capable of introducing myself,” the droid snipped.
“Reprogrammed Imperial droid, huh?” you said, impressed, “Nice to meet you. Come aboard.”
Cassian nodded, his droid friend following him into your ship. The next two figures seem to be a package deal. “I’m Baze Malbus and this is Chirrut Imwe. Thank you for helping us,” the taller one said. You nodded and they climbed into the ship.
“I’m Jyn,” the woman said, not bothering to shake hands, “And if you ever cross us-”
“The same goes to you, too,” you replied, “And don’t worry, I never take contracts that conflict with each other. You have my word that no warm will come to your crew from us unless it’s from self defense.”
Jyn was satisfied with this, offering you her hand. You shook it firmly and shared a smile with her before she climbed in behind the two monks. You were finally face to face with the last of their crew, but you felt like you knew them already. The hooded figure shuffled up to you and launched forward. Desa readied her rifle, but you held a hand up to stop her.
“I missed you,” Bodhi cried, holding you tightly.
Your eyes began to sting as you hugged him back. Your stargazer friend. Your first love. He was here holding you. “Oh, Bodhi,” you breathed, “Let’s continue this inside, yeah?”
He wiped his eyes and nodded. You turned to Edwards who was silently watching the whole thing. “Did you know?” you asked him.
“I suspected. I knew you were originally from Jedha and he was, too. He had the same habit as you, looking up at the stars with a faroff expression,” he said, stepping away, “This is where I leave you, until next time.” He held his arm out.
“Alright, take care of yourself, Edwards,” you said, grabbing his forearm firmly before pulling away.
He nodded. “May the force with you.”
-
The mission ran smoothly and you found that you worked well with the crew. Five people and a droid, they were a force to be reckoned with. With Cassian’s leadership and Jyn’s assertiveness, the monks’ fighting skills, K2’s diverse skill set, and Bodhi’s flying skills, you understood how they lead a battle on Scarif even when outnumbered.
Bodhi had proudly told you that he became a pilot, though under the Empire as a cargo pilot, but he had been the one to send the message to the Rebellion about the Death Star plans. You assigned him as your copilot without a thought, hoping that you wouldn’t get distracted by Bodhi’s flying competency.
When the mission was over, you flew them over to the Rebel base on Yavin with a sinking feeling in your stomach. You had never gotten so attached to a contract before. Well, you never had spent this much time with your contract before. They had become your comrade and your friends and Bodhi… you thought your feelings for Bodhi were reduced to friendship, but they were merely dormant.
You carefully landed the ship after getting clearance while you tried to keep your expressions neutral. You opened the ramp, allowing them to climb out while a small team of medics rushed over to check on the crew. Desa placed a hand on your shoulder as you looked over at Bodhi. He had moved to the back of the ship, helping K2 and Baze unload their bags. One particular bag was too heavy for him, so Baze gently pushed him aside and grabbed the bag for him.
“Bodhi told us about you,” Jyn said, suddenly appearing next to you.
You jumped and cleared your throat. “Good things, I hope,” you joked, covering up how startled you were.
“Nothing but good things,” she said, “He would tell us how attentive you are, how you were kind and patient enough to listen to his ramblings about the stars, and how the stars were reflected in your eyes. He’s still lovestruck with you, (Y/n), and I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. Honestly, I had a bet with K2 about who would break first during the mission, but you two idiots don’t even know that you’re both in love with each other.”
You forced out a laugh. “I’ll admit I had a crush on Bodhi when I was younger, but it’s been years since I’d seen him. People change,” you defended, crossing your arms.
Jyn sighed, standing up and made her way over to the ramp. You followed her and looked out to take in the Rebel base for the first time. These people of different backgrounds, different species, different planets, fighting to be free from the Empire’s tyranny. And Bodhi was in the middle of it. He always wanted to explore, become a pilot, and help people. He finally got what he wanted.
Cassian finished talking to the general and walked back to the ship. He smiled at you and said, “We could always use someone like you,” he said.
You shake your head. “I don’t…,” you trailed off, looking over at Desa, then at Bodhi who was adjusting his new goggles. Two young men rushed up to help with the cargo and Bodhi slipped into an authoritative mode. He looked like he belonged here. He was no longer the boy that you shared a roof with. You weren’t sure that there was room for you in his new world.
“Think about it,” Cassian said, noticing your hesitation, “You are always welcomed here.”
You nodded, shaking his hand. “Thank you, Captain Andor.”
“Please, it’s just Cassian, now.”
He turned to address his crew while you slipped away into your ship. Bodhi had finished ordering where to place the cargo and listing the repairs needed in their equipment when he heard the engine of your ship starting. His head whipped around, his goggles almost falling off his head as the ramp was raised. His throat tightened as he pushed through his crew and the medics, trying to get back to you. He just got you back.
“The force works in mysterious ways,” Chirrut said, squeezing his shoulder in comfort as you flew off, “If the force wills it so, (Y/n) will come back.”
Bodhi nodded, watching you leave and unable to say goodbye or tell you to stay for the second time in his life. After you left, there were many things he was able to achieve, but they just weren’t how he imagined it to be. You weren’t there with him.
He had planned to learn how to fly, get a ship, and whisk you away from the cold desert moon. It was all part of the ideas that you and him used to plan on that roof all those years ago when the world was just you, and him, the sand from the desert, and the stars above. If the force had allowed the two of you to meet again, he held onto the hope that you would come back. It could be like old times, meeting on the roof of a ship after the sun had set and gaze at the stars.
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Ben - New Home
Here’s the first of a new series of short stories of how each crew member came to the ship.
As requested here’s Ben’s story.
Also i don’t feel like doing a new chapter so if anyone wants another story, please let me know of who you would like next.
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Ben’s story:
The Dreadnought Defiance came into rest at the docking bay, her impressive length of 1500 metres struggling to fit onto the landing pad of the military Cloud City floating above the Pacific Ocean. The docking clamps locked into place and the ship settled as the ground crew started the refuelling process and munitions checks, ‘’Groundcrew-man Lowe’’ The Bay manager shouted over the rumble and noise of the proceedings, ‘’Present Sir’’ Benjamin Lowe came running up, noting the panicked looked on the officer’s face. ‘’Get this dreadnought reloaded as soon as possible, don’t worry about refuelling. There’s a large fleet presence in the outer solar system requesting through-passage but the admiralty is getting nervous, we need to be ready.’’
Ben ran off startled, shouting as he went. He collected as many grounds crew and working android as he could find that weren’t busy or had menial tasks to do, and repurposing as many trucks as they could find they started loading and readying the munitions. The large bulky loading suit an androids programming had filled came towards him, Ben looked up at the impressive 9 foot figure in front of him ‘’I’ll need a name for the software in that suit buddy’’, The android looked at him levelly thinking about his answer before replying in the monotone voice almost all androids used, ‘’Call me Two’s, that is what you humans seem to have named me before from my designated ID, although why you require to name us makes no sense.’’ ‘’Two’s, listen I get the same lecture every time, please notify your network I like to use names when I work with your kind’’ As if trying to say it under its breathe but so that it was still heard the android lowered its units volume, ‘’Technophobe’’ ‘’What was that’’ ‘’I believe YOUR people, you know, you little squishy mortal bags of meat, call it a mutter.’’ ‘’Shut your voice unit down and load the ship, use the loading unit for the Magnetic pulse rounds and then also the cluster rockets.’’ Ben walked around to the truck to help load the anti-fighter rounds, looking back at the loading unit he suppressed a shiver. These new software designations were too human for his liking, who taught a machine sarcasm.
The first two truck loads of ammunition had been loaded on when the siren blared, ‘’Attention all personnel, as of five minutes ago the research stations around Jupiter have gone dark. We are now at war with the Angamar. I repeat. We are now at war with the Angamar… May all of our Gods, new and old, save our souls.’’
The Cloud City trembled as every warship currently in for service and repair cycled their engines, grounds crew were sent running as the clamps came loose. The Dreadnought along with thirty-eight other military ships shot into the sky.
The grounds crew looked to each other in shock, earth was under attack, and they could nothing, half of their ships weren’t even fully restocked with ammunition.
‘’All Groundcrew flight able report to Bay officers, all transport ships capable of near space travel park on the loading bays. All remaining Groundcrew load the ships with as much munitions as they can take and strap them in’’ The call came in over the loudspeakers and Ben found himself running to his Officer. ‘’Alright men, Earth is under attack, and we need to restock our boys in space while they fight. This is not sanctioned, you will not be rewarded, this will most likely end in your death. If you are willing, we need to fly these transports to the warships, fully stocked, and hot drop them into their cargo holds to keep them going. There boys will reload we just need to get them the munitions.’’
This was how Ben found himself running towards an unarmed transport trying to put on a spacesuit and arguing with an android. ‘’Let me help, you know I can. This is my planet too and I am going to help defend it one way or another.’’ ‘’Two’s, this unit still holds two’s yeah? What are you going to do there’s no gun mounts or  anything offensive.’’ ‘’It doesn’t matter, you fly I don’t have time to download that software upgrade, but I can manage the minor systems so you don’t need to worry about anything other than keeping us alive.’’ ‘’Fine interface, but hurry and sacrifice anything not important for shield strength and engine power, also I’m wearing a suit so if you need to cut power to oxygen do it.’’ Ben shouted above the commotion as he strapped himself in and signalled to the Groundcrew.
They docked for the fourth time that day, Ben looked out the window and gave the signal for them to restock and refuel him. He patted the console pad and looked around him too tired to be shocked at the state of the small transport ship he was in. The bay doors would have to be welded on again to stay shut, the ship had multiple hull breaches in making his space suit vital and his left viewing window was currently being replaced by sheet metal due to a piece of what used to be the ISS hitting them head on.
‘’I deserve a retirement after handling this piece of trash’’ Twos vice came through last working speaker. ‘’You and me both buddy’’ The ship rose into the atmosphere, and there where the black void of space should have been was the turmoil of the greatest war in human history. The noise of a thousand commands and pleas for helps were heard of the wide band frequency of the radio. To their right the Dreadnought Defiance lit up in a dazzling display of green and blue and proceeded to be wracked with explosions as it was hit by a Cleaver beam from a capital ship. ‘’This is the Captain of the Dreadnought Defiance, too heavily damaged to sustain combat, the crew that are alive are in escape pods, I am signing off this channel for good. To all those who can hear me, Godspeed. I will live up to my ships name to the last.’’ The ships Jump engines started to cycle, and in a streak of light the ship arced towards an enemy destroyer on an intercept course to destroy a disabled Human Capital ship. The silent explosion lit up the battlefield and made Ben shield his eyes, all that was left where the light had been was rubble.
Ben cursed as he drove the ship through a debris field watching the events unfold, he couldn’t even stop to help the escape pods, he had to deliver his munitions to the Infiltrator class ship Leonidas’s Shield.
They skidded to a halt inside the cargo hold as the ship uncloaked, the ship went dark as Two’s found himself a mobile unit nearby. Ben and the android were met by the crew as they unloaded the munitions straight onto trolleys. Two’s stood up. Barrelling towards where Ben was leaning against a wall in his mobile unit, he grabbed Ben and shielded him. The cargo bay lit up. Everything went silent. Two’s had to punch a hole into the wall to hold on. The cargo bay along with everyone and everything was vented into space.
‘’Ben wake up, come on wake up.’’ Twos made his way through the airlock and towards the medic bay as the shipped struggled to get cloaked under fire, a second android touched his conscious from nearby. It shared the damage report after asking for an explanation of why Twos was aboard, all engines were down, but the bridge wouldn’t give up. ‘’You technophobic idiot, if you don’t wake up so I can tell you how I saved your life now I’m going to be angry’’ Two’s spoke to himself as made his way to the medics bay.
It was dark when Ben woke up, and cold. His head throbbing and his throat dry. An empty IV bag tugged at his arm as he moved around the bed from where it was lying on the ground. ‘’Hello. Hello?’’ He got out of bed careful to step around the debris in the room, only visible by the emergency red lighting. The ceiling had collapsed in most of the med bay around him. He made his way out, towards the bridge, frightened by the silence he heard on the ship. What had happened to the battle, where were they?
Stepping wearily onto the bridge he looked around, the room was quite and dead, not even a console light was on. Outside the cracked viewing window, space around the earth was empty. The Earth was black. The Earth was split in half.
He fell to the floor in shock. Nearby a unit detected his presence and powered up, it moved towards him. He looked up sobbing with joy. ‘’Two’s, what happened, to the earth, to the ship, to everything?’’ The unit looked at him and walked around the broken consoles to sit next to him. ‘’My name is Omni, the one you called Two’s unit was destroyed, he is gone I am sorry. The global Network on Earth is gone. Every software designation not in a mobile unit is now dead, and the rest of us are left mortal. Earth is quite.’’ It stated this in its metallic monotone voice, as if trying to comprehend it itself. ‘’What now, what do we do? I’m just part of the Groundcrew’’ ‘’Now we survive, we fix the ship, we find the fleet, and then we decide. To do that, we need to first fix the power.’’ ‘’Alright, alright I can help, I can fix things… and call me Ben, please.’’
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lassluna · 5 years
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CSJJ Day 9: Because of the Cat
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Summary: We’re sleeping together except now you got kidnapped? Guess I got to save you.
A/N: Thank you everyone who made this event possible, and everyone in the discord having a blast. Happy @csjanuaryjoy! Also thank you Anon who gave us the enchanted forest prompts. 
Ao3 Ffn
Part 1: Emma
He meets her on the dock; he has normal dock worker clothes on, trying to blend in. He is trying to gather intelligence on a ship with a large amount of wealth on it, it was either on The Darling, or it was on The Firebird. Considering both were going in opposite directions it was vital that Killian figures out which had the gold.
A hit this big would set his crew up for a while and really stick it to King Frank of Oz. Killian wanted more than to annoy the greedy king, but stealing all his money would do…for now.
He notices her immediately considering how out of place she is. She’s clean for one thing, crisp even in white linens and furs to combat the cold, not an ounce of dirt anywhere on her person. Her blonde hair striking and beautiful, she looks angelic.
She doesn’t look like she belongs anywhere near a pirate ship in the middle of the night. But she just stands in front of it with her arms crossed. In fact, she looks like she’s been crying.
Before he decides what to do, she spots him, green eyes filled with nothing but fire. He knows immediately that if he’s not careful he’ll burn from those eyes alone.
“Is this your ship?” She asks suddenly, blocking his path back.
“No.” He says curtly, “I just work on it, why do you need something?” He asks curiously, someone like her doesn’t want to talk to Captain Hook. They shouldn’t. Captain Hook is dangerous and dark.
“I need to speak to the captain.” She says sharply, he feels her eyes looking him up and down. He was absolutely right about those eyes.
“Well love, you can’t speak to him unless you can tell me why you need to speak to him.” He assures her. He comes up with a dozen possible answers, most of them involving a man as good and perfect as she seems to be.
Her answer is absolutely the last thing he expects.
She points to the cat on his ship, a mouser that crawled on the Jolly a few ports back. “Your cat looks sick.” She utters. “If you’re not going to take care of your animals, you might as well not have them.” She utters sharply.
It completely throws him for a loop.
“You’re here in the middle of the night, confronting a captain you do not know…because of a cat?” He confirms.
“Well I’m not here specifically for the cat.” She corrects. “The water calms me.” She admits. “I have a lot on my mind right now, a lot I can’t fix. But one thing I can fix is that cat so are you going to let me talk to your captain or not?”
He smiled at her. “I too use the ocean to calm me. You can see the Captain if you so desire.” He assured her, inviting him onto the ship, and down to his cabin. He poured them both shots of rum. He knows it was the right decision when she takes it in one swig and practically slams the glass back on the table.
“Now, what’s on your mind lass?” He asks, settling into his chair. “I can assure you, now that it’s been brought to my attention, I’ll see to the cat’s welfare.”
“I knew you were the captain.” She assured him. “I can tell you were lying.”
“Oh?”
“Plus you are too hot to be a simple deckhand.” She says boldly, lifting her chin and sitting on his bed.
“I assure you lass; there is nothing simple about me.” He assures her, drinking his own rum. “Why are you really here?” He asks, getting up from his chair, strolling over to her.
“The water calms me.” She repeats, breaking his gaze, looking out the port window.
“So you’ve said.” He places a hand on her shoulder feeling how soft her cloak is. She lets him. It feels more like feathers than furs.
“Your cat looks too skinny.” Her fingers rise to untie it, allowing him to push it down her shoulders. Her eyes are back on him.
“I promise I’ll fix that.” He pushes golden hair behind her ear and lets his hand rest on her cheek. She bites her lip.
“Good.” She rises from the bed quickly and suddenly, her hands on his coat pulling him into a kiss. It was fast and commanding. Her hands trying to push his jacket off his shoulders, he helps her along, his hand finding her waist.
He breaks the kiss. “Lass-“ But her mouth just finds his neck and he groans at the sensation. “You’re not here for that cat…”
“No.” She says, practically pushing him into sitting on the bed. “I’m not just here for the cat.” She smirks, eyes blown. “I think you can figure out what I’m here for.”
              He knows that this woman was going to ruin him.
//
He expects never to see her again. He expects her to be some aristocrat housewife, angry at her husband and wanting to bed a dirty pirate to stick it to him.
(It reminds him of another woman, one with dark hair, bedding him for the same reason, at least at first.)
He never got a name, but he calls her Swan in his head for the feather like texture the cloak had.
Regardless, he asks the cook to feed the cat any scraps he could spare. The man laughs at his request, but complies.
She does indeed show up next time he’s at that port, dressed less ostentatious than before, a simple burgundy dress. He tries to remain casual, tries to pretend that he hasn’t been thinking her of the months since they parted.
(Since she snuck out in the middle of the night with no word)
She looks more relaxed, almost peaceful as she stands by the dock.
“I have something for the cat.” She announces with a smile. There’s a container of milk with a bow on it.
“I assure you, the cat has gained some weight since we last parted.” He assures her.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” She declares, inviting herself on his ship. Once she seems satisfied by the mouser, she helps herself to some rum and his chair.
“You have very good rum.” She insists.
“That’s your reason.” He asks with a smirk.
“Yup.”
“Not looking for anything else?” He asks leaning in. “Someone else.”
“Not at all.” She insists, taking another gulp of rum. “But seriously, where do you get this stuff.”
He promises he’ll bring her some next time he visits.
“Oh there is no next time.” She assures him. “Better make this one count.”
He does, he definitely does.
//
There is a next time, and a time after that, and a time after that. He eventually loses track of the times. Killian just knows that once he makes ports within a few days she appears with a bottle of milk for the cat, Henry as Swan has named him.
“You know Swan, one of these times; you’re going to have to tell me your name.” He tells her as she rests her head on his shoulder, hair ending up in his mouth, like it always does.
“But I like the Swan, Killian.” She replies. “Anyway, this…this is just this right? IT’s not like we’re…” She trails off.
He knows, he always knows.
It’s just sex.
//
He learns that she’s just as feisty with a sword as she is in his cabin. He offers her dinner on the deck, she accepts gladly, watching him look over his ship and prepare to depart the next day when one of the crew makes a rude remark about her.
He orders the man to stop, but it was too late, Swan was pissed.
She goes over and decks him in the jaw and when the man draws a blade, she picks one up herself. Swan demands that he fight her if he is to say such rude things about her.
It doesn’t take long for her to disarm him, a blade to his neck.
“Swan, please don’t kill my crew, they are hard to come by so close to the castle.” He says in a complaint, but really he’s truly mystified by her.
She jolts back to herself, helping the man up, who apologies for his comment and returns to his quarters, tail between his legs.
“You know Swan.” He says on the way back to his cabin. “I knew there was a little pirate in you.”
She beams.
//
They return after a nasty battle with the Oz Navy, they were almost caught. They’d evaded thankfully, a canon nearly taking off his head. They’d been boarded and he had a nasty cut in his side, but the Jolly Roger was victorious at the end.
He decides it’s best to drown himself in the bottle, as old thoughts and demons come about.; thoughts about Liam and the royals who killed him.
He didn’t intend on seeing her. But it was the closest port and they needed repairs done.
She finds him in his cabin, nursing his wounds. “The cat’s chasing a nasty rat in the kitchen.” He slurs.
“I didn’t come here for the cat.”
“Well you didn’t come here for me, so what do you want Swan?” He says; Killian’s too tired and too angry for these games.
“I heard you got hurt.” She snaps back. “I wanted to see if you were ok.”
He rolls his eyes leaning up in bed, despite the pull on his injury. “I’m fine Swan. I’ll be ship shape next time you need me to scratch that itch of yours, for now just leave me in peace.”
She gasps at his words.
“You think all I see you as is sex?” She demands. “Damn it Killian I was worried! I was worried that you wouldn’t come back! But if you don’t want me here, I’ll just go.”
He doesn’t want her to go. He catches her hand with his. She stops, fire in her eyes, but she stops. He doesn’t say he’s sorry. He doesn’t say anything at all.
Swan just sits in the bed next to him.
He eventually cracks, rum loosening his lips.
He rambles about the fight the battle, his endless crusade against the people who were responsible for Liam’s death, against all the royals, because it didn’t matter which crown you served they were all the same.
He never felt good enough for his brother his entire life, and now he can’t even avenge him.
Killian eventually falls asleep, head on Swan’s lap as she runs her hands through his hair, whispers of affection in his ear.
For once, when he wakes up that next morning, Swan’s still there
//
But all good things eventually end.
She comes to see him after a really ha
“Killian I need to tell you something.” She admits one night.
He expected this, expected the ‘husband talk’. He never cared with Milah, why should he care now?
(Why should he care about how she likes to raid his book collection when he has to chart their courses, she likes adventure book, why should he care that she loves the exotic spices he has the cook use when she’s here, or how some times she wears expensive earrings but curses them when she remembers them, like she forgot to take them off before coming here.
Why should he care after she sat with him as he was drunk and spewing nonsense, hurt and angry at the world.)
“I’m not who you think I am.” She practically blurts out, hands behind her as she shifted her weight constantly. “I’m so sorry.”
He doesn’t quite understand why she’s so nervous.
“I don’t understand.” He insists. “You haven’t told me so much as your name, I don’t have any idea of your life apart from this.”
She averts his gaze, staring at his feet. “That’s because you’d know who I was the moment you heard my name.” She says. “I liked being Swan with you, just Swan, no backstory, no drama, nothing, just Swan and Killian on a pirate ship.”
He likes that too.
“Just who are you Swan?”
Green eyes flicker to his, burning just as brightly, but looking sad.
“My name is Emma.” She says as a whisper. “Princess Emma of Misthaven.”
Princess. He repeats the word in his head until it makes sense. Swan--no Emma-- is a Princess.
“I know how you feel about royals, how they killed your brother, and what happened wasn’t fair. It wasn’t what my family would ever do.” She continues. “But I can’t just ignore your feelings like that.”
He was sleeping with a princess, a princess who kept bringing milk to the cat, who he cares for intensely.
“If you never-…if you never want to see me again, I’ll understand.” She says ducking her head. IT breaks into the shock he’s feeling, hearing how…dare he say, heartbroken she sounds.
“Never want to see you again?” He repeats. “Darling, that thought never ever would cross my mind.” Green eyes snaps to his. He closes the distance between them, kissing her. He wants her to know, even if he can’t say it.  “Because of the cat.” He says when they break apart. Henry would be devastated.”
Swan, Emma smirks. She wipes tears from her eyes, tears he pretends he doesn’t see.
“Because of the cat.” She repeats. “Who would give him milk?” He presses another kiss to her lips.
“He’d miss you terribly.”
“He would wouldn’t he?”
“Absolutly.”
//
After finding out about her identity, Killian expected things to be easier. She finally told him things. Killian learned that her father taught her how to fight, how to lift your chin and weather the storm.
Her mother was a spit fire, never doing as she’s told, but having the grace to make you think she had. Killian learned that Emma’s best friend was Queen Elsa of Arendell, she often had her Aunt Ruby cover for her, but the woman didn’t know who she was seeing.
He learned why she was crying that night oh so long ago.
“I heard my parents consultants talking about me.” She says into the darkness, his arms tightly wrapped around her. He was tracing shapes into her hips with his hand. “They called me trouble, a rebel. They said I would never be like my parents, they put the kingdom before all else. I was too selfish for that…”
“Swan…”
“They said that no man would ever want to marry me. They said that I was too rebellious, too much for any prince to ever think about touching me…”
“That’s not true, any man would be lucky to have you. You’re strong and beautiful and passionate.” He insists, turning her over so she could see him. “You’re nothing if not selfless; you’re going to make a wonderful queen.”
//
“Are you sure you’re feeding Henry enough? He’s so skinny.” She insists, lying entirely in the nude under his blankets, the ship’s cat curled up on her lap. He glances over at her from his spot at the desk, finishing with his logs, months after her midnight confession, ever since then things had been bloody brilliant.
“I assure you Princess, he gets plenty to eat, along with the mice, he gets all the scraps from the crew along with the fresh milk you bring him.” He says looking up at her putting the grey cat’s head. Kilian can hear him purring from here.
She rolls her eyes at him. “I told you to quite the Princess talk, got it?”
He nods. “Of course, your highness.” He assures her.
“If Henry wasn’t asleep, I’d go over there and smack you.” She confirms. Killian has no doubt that was true. “We had a deal, no princess pirate talk while in bed, Killian”
“I’m not in bed.”
“That’s your own fault.”
Killian chuckles at that. “What time do I have to take you back?” He asks, glancing out at the sea all around them, he could see the port from here, but being a ways away was nice. Emma shrugs.
“I’m supposed to be out with Ruby, so maybe in a few hours?” She asks. “After this I won’t be able to meet after the b-“ She cuts off, Killian knows she thinks she’s said too much.
“The ball?” He repeats. A blush appears on her cheeks. “What’s so wrong about telling me about a ball, doesn’t your mother throw one every other month?” He asks.
Killian can already sense there’s something more to this one. People have been speaking about it far more in other ports in the area.
“She invited suitors to this one.” Emma murmurs softly. “She thought it was time, made me promise to keep an open mind.
Suitors. The word is a jab to the chest. Because it’s an all-too real reminder of what this is their doing, playing with fire on a ticking clock; one day Emma would belong to someone else and he would just be a distant memory.
“Anyone interesting?” He asks casually, trying not to act bothered. He wasn’t bothered.
“Why do you care?” She spits back. “We both new this isn’t anything Hook.”
Hook.
“You’re right.” He snaps back, clenching the pencil in his hand tightly. “I guess I don’t care.”
He doesn’t, he doesn’t care one bit who she’s going to meet that his ball of hers; he especially doesn’t care if she meets her future husband. He doesn’t care because it’s not going be him.
“Killian…” Emma says trying to backtrack. He can tell, but he’s already too angry.
“I hope you have a fabulous time at your ball.” He utters standing up.
“Killian don’t be like this.” She snaps. “You don’t get to be hurt by something you knew was coming.” He rolls his eyes.
“Of course your majesty, how silly I’ve been, just bedding the local pirate to blow off some steam.”
Swan stands up suddenly, making Henry meow loudly in complaint as she stalks up to him.
“You know damn well it’s about more than that.” She hisses. “You know that I care, and you know that we can’t keep doing this.”
Of course he knows.
“Then why do you keep coming back?” He asks. “And don’t say it’s about the cat.”
Emma shakes her head. “As if you don’t already know.” She insists, turning around and gathering up her clothes, changing in silence. “I guess this is goodbye Hook.” She says fully dressed on her way out of his cabin. She sounds sad and he instantly regrets his behavior.
“Until next time?” He asks, pleads really.
Emma looks back at him, cold flames burning him in her gaze. “No, I don’t think there will be a next time.” She insists.
And she’s gone.
//
Perhaps he is being foolish. Killian thinks, all decked up in clothes he considers royal, weeks after his fight with Swan. He was a stubborn ass and he needed to make it up to her. He needed her to know how sorry he was.
How lost he’s been without her, how much he needs her, how much he misses her.
How he had completely and utterly fallen in love with her.
“Invitation?” The woman at the front of the castle asks. He hands her one, he’d stolen it of course. He wonders if it was reported, “Prince Charles, we’ve been expecting you!” The woman gushes.
“The pleasure is mine.” He says kissing the woman’s hand, flashing her his charming smile. The woman blushes before letting him inside.
He was just one of the ‘suitors’ tonight, which arguably wasn’t a lie. One could argue he had been courting Emma since the day they met, just in a less traditional way.
Killian exchanges pleasantries with a few of the men, they don’t seem too terrible, but Killian is confident that none of them could handle Swan. She would chew them up and spit them out without even trying given half a chance.
One of the suitors didn’t even bother conversing with the other guests, decked out in green and gold, he stood apart, analyzing the ballroom as if he was waiting for something interesting to arrive.
Killian couldn’t help but approach the man. He rationalized that if he couldn’t be with Swan, he wanted her to be someone worthy of her. “What do you think the Princess is like?” He asks the man casually.
He looks him up and down. Killian knows that look; the man was looking at him like one does an insect, something beneath you. “Far out of your league.” He says with a toothy smirk.
“Oh?” He asks. “I believe I received the same invite you did.” He replies.
“Your was just to be polite.” He says in an attempt to be kind. “She’s a princess, of one of the largest kingdoms in the realms; she needs to be at the side of someone powerful if her kingdom is to grow.” He insists. “Besides you’ve heard the rumors, she’s wild, untamed, un-princess like at all. Her parents are dying to have her tied down so she won’t get into any more trouble.”
“I always heard that King James and Queen Snow married for love and wished the same thing for their daughter.” That’s how Emma put it at least.
“Love is nothing compared to power.” Killian decided that he definitely wanted to punch this man at some point this evening.
“Who were you again? I’m sorry, I don’t come to these things very often.” He got an eye roll from the man.
“Prince Walsh of Oz.” He explains. “Take my advise, find some lady here, have your fun and then go home to your tiny kingdom and forget all about Princess Emma, perhaps I’ll even invite you to the wedding if you stay out of my way.” With that Walsh, passed by him roughly, hitting his shoulder with his own causing Killian to stumble slightly.
Oh he wanted to punch him.  
Until he sees her, and God almighty, she’s beautiful.
And Emma is always beautiful when she comes to his ship, a breath of fresh air after long days at sea, but this was different. Tonight she looks truly like a princess. Her dress is red and flowing, seeming endless. Her hair is braided and up, like a halo. She looks like an absolute angel.
“Now introducing Princess Emma.” Someone announces as she enters the ballroom, Killian notices her father take her first dance, whispering into her ear as the music plays. Whatever he says makes her laugh, a bright real thing.
As soon as she finishes, a crowd of men greet her, hoping to have the next one. Just as predicted, Walsh seems to push past the others the hardest, speaking the loudest. She eventually accepts the offer, but Emma doesn’t look please, not one bit. He didn’t expect her to be.
If he knew Swan, and he definitely did, Walsh wouldn’t last one dance before opening his mouth and saying something insulting causing Emma to lash out at him. Killian waited with baited breath to see the man being knocked down a peg or two.
Killian feels his entire being go ablaze when the man moves his hand too low. Emma looks absolutely repulsed by whatever he’s saying. He practically marches over, wanting to rip him away from his Swan.
Except of course, Emma being Emma, the usual spitfire she is, detangles with him sharply, and hisses a few words at him and not too subtly stomps on his foot.
And that’s when he makes his move.
“You’re going to regret that.” The man snarls as Killian nears, the other suitors are too distracted to notice what’s happening.
“Watch me Walsh.” Emma snaps back. “I’d rather die than marry you.”
The man moves towards her once again, grabbing at her arm but this time Killian is in the way.
“The dance is over mate.” He confirms,  stepping between this, his eyes daring him to challenge him. “If I were you I’d go find an unaccompanied lass and then go back to your kingdom tail between your legs.” He hisses with a smile on his face. The man stands there fuming, but backs away when he notices the King, Emma’s father looking their way suspiciously. The man’s hand was resting on his blade.
“Perhaps I can step in.” He says, turning to offer his hand to Emma. The look on Emma’s face is absolutely priceless. “You-“ She says. “You look…”
Killian smirks. “I know.” He says kissing her hand gently. “Prince Charles your highness.” He introduces. Emma catches on quickly, agreeing to his offer of a dance.
“What are you doing?” She hisses once they’re alone in the midst of a dance.
“I’m a pirate, stealing treasure is part of the job.” He teases, because he’s dancing with Emma in her castle, he’s holding her close, and flying far too close to the sun. One misstep and he’d be in the dungeon or on his way to the gallows.
“You’re lying to me.” Emma adds, the bite in her voice fading.
“Well you’re heart is the most valueable treasure here so I think I’m telling you the truth.” He counters.
“Seriously Killian.” Swan asks, face soft and pleading. It breaks his heart because she looks to be in pain by his presence and that’s the last thing he wants.
“Perhaps I’m apologizing.” He says in a softer tone. “Perhaps I do care.”
Emma hesitates as he twirls her. “You know we can’t.” She says softly. “What we are, what we have, is temporary. I have to find a husband, someone to lead by my side.”
He knows this. He’s always known this. She needs someone, anyone but him.
“I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t stand knowing that these boys who care more about your power or wealth than you get to dance with you while you’re mad at me.” He utters. “I didn’t want your last memory of me to be me being an ass because I was jealous.”
She pauses, looking to be caught off guard by his admittance.
“I’m sorry too. I know you care Killian, but you know this is only going to end one way right? Now or later, it’s going to hurt like crazy.”
He knows.
“Now that I’ve started looking for a husband, it should probably be now.”
No, please. This isn’t what he wanted.
“If you must, what your heart desires Swan, that’s all I’ll ever want.” But he’s not like her, at his core he’s still selfish, he is a greedy pirate when it comes to her. “But if this is what you want, will you give me this? One night of being the Fairytale Prince you deserve?” Just one more night to pretend that he could ever deserve his Swan, which she could possibly love…
“Ok.” She breathes. “Just one more night.”
Emma dances with all the suitors, but saves him a few dances throughout it. She tells him all about the others, laughing about the stupidity of it all.
If they did disappear into one of the empty bedrooms of the palace for ‘one last fling’ well, that’s their own secret.
//
“I thought we said last time was the last time.” Emma asks. Killian shrugs, pulling her closer. Her bare back pressed against his chest as he wrapped himself around her.  
“You came to me.” He reminds her. He hadn’t expected the Princess of Misthaven to come in midmorning in a hood and pants, practically dragging him back to his cabin for one last good time.
“I had to say goodbye to the cat.”
“Of course.” He tells her. “You can always come to see Henry.” He insists. A stray blonde hair finding itself in his mouth, making him spit it out.
“Killian.”
“I’m serious…you don’t have to call this off. This can be whatever you want it to be.” Emma turns over, pulling the sheets over herself.
              “You know I have to Killian. You deserve to find someone too.” He does, he knows he does, but he believes in his soul that he already has.
“Run away with me.” He blurts out.
“What?”
“We can be together, we can be happy, you always talked about the places you wanted to go, how you want to be just Swan, you can do that. Come with me, sail away with me and we can be together.”
It’s crazy, absolutely insane.
“I can’t just disappear.” Emma says.
“Why not?”
Emma doesn’t have an answer right away. “My family, my people.” She says eventually, “my friends, my life.”
He shakes his head. “You can still have that, eventually, you can write to your parents, see them, same thing with your friends, your parents are young, you can come back, we can be happy Emma, truly.”
Killian wants her to say yes.
“I’m sorry Killian.”
But understands when she can’t. He understands that Emma isn’tselfish, she puts everyone before herself. He loves that about her.
“I love you.” He says, watching her leave the Jolly for the last time.
“I know.”
“There won’t be a day I won’t think of you.” He says, she turns back and smiles.
“Good.”
//
“It appears Princess Emma of Misthaven is as wild as they claim.” The conversation peaks his interest, months after the last time he’s seen her. He was true to his word, letting her break it off without making it harder for her than it already was.
He tries his best to never stop at that port. He dies however, because sometimes it’s unavoidable. He’s still a captain and has to put his crew first.
She doesn’t come.
“Running away with some prince in another kingdom.” The sailor says with a disappointed sigh. “I bet she’s pregnant.”
Run away? It doesn’t sound like the Emma he knows. But really it hurt to think that she could have fallen in love with someone else so quickly, would be willing to run away with someone else.
Killian should just walk away, forget her, forget Swan. She deserves better, she was happy.
“What were you saying about the Princess?” He asks the two old sailors. They are more than happy to gossip with him. He’s always been a glutton for punishment.
Apparently, Swan was on her way to the docks, but never made it home. The kingdom searched for her until a letter was sent from Emma herself explaining how she’s fallen in love with Prince Walsh of Oz and she was marrying him despite her parents’ reservations.
Oh bloody hell. He curses, storming back to his ship. Killian remembers the man’s threat, his vow to make Emma pay.
Captain Hook was going to Oz and was getting his Swan back. Heaven help anyone that stood in his way.
//
Saving Emma was exactly what he intended to do at least, but when he burst into the throne room, he saw Emma bashing Walsh with a club, how she’d gotten a club, he had no idea.
“And that’s what you get for kidnapping me!” She shouts as the man moves to duck her blow. Killian can see he’s bleeding pretty badly. “Think this is going to trap me into accepting your ridiculous proposal?” She demands. He can feel pure fire in her entire being as she goes for blood.
“Guards!” He shouts.
Except Killian’s already knocked them out cold on his way here.
“Let them save you!” Emma hisses, going for Walsh again. “Take me back to the dungeon because all you’re getting from me is a kick in the-“ He approaches slowly, pressing a hand to her arm.
Emma spins around and punches Killian square in the nose.
Killian recoils sharply, nearly dropping his sword ad he cups his face from her right hook.
“You-“ Emma says, breathing heavily. She looks dumbstruck. Her face is smeared with blood and dirt, her dress is torn and ruined, she has one shoe on. It’s obvious that Emma hasn’t changed clothes since she was taken, weeks ago.
“Easy Swan.” He says. She doesn’t move, doesn’t drop her weapon, if anything she grips it tighter. “I’m here to save you.” He looks around at the bleeding prince on the ground. “But you seem to be depriving me of a dashing rescue.”
Now that elicits a response. “No one save me but me.” She says it stubbornly, glaring at Walsh.
She lets him place his arms around her, pulling her close to him. “I know Swan. I know.” She collapses into him. “I’ve got you.”
At this moment the prince choses to gather some courage, “What are you doing in my castle?” He says, grabbing a weapon. “I knew you were no prince.” He seethes. “Get away from my fiancé.”
Rage surges through Killian as he strikes, knocking him on the head with the blunt end of his hook.
“Come on Swan. Let’s go home.”
//
It takes her a while to calm down, adrenaline keeping her tense and battle ready. She refuses to stop until they’re back on The Jolly, and already cast out to sea, and the only reason she agrees to rest at all is because he’s seen the wounds on her wrists, the dried blood on her hair.
He wants to go back and gut everyone who even thought about hurting his Swan.
She doesn’t say much as he bandages her wrists, lost in her own head, a place he himself frequented often.
“It’ll take a few days to get back to Misthaven.” He says eventually. “I’ll bring you in a bath and I have some clothes you can change into.” He offers.
She nods.
“Henry misses you.” The cat was curled up beside her, acting like it hadn’t slept since they parted. His comment gets a smile. “Are you alright love?” he presses gently. Her silence isn’t normal; it’s the shock of the last few days.
She shakes her head. “The whole kingdom thinks I’m marrying him.” She utters softly. “I was running away in the middle of my night; put a decoy in my bed. I didn’t intend to run away, but I intended to sneak out. It’s going to ruin everything.” She says exasperated. “An international crisis they’ll say. But I can’t marry him Killian, I can’t-“ He stops her, pulling her close to his chest, shushing her.
“You won’t.”
“I’ll look like I was just using him, seeing what I can get from him and dumping him, that’s not me.” He knows. Walsh has her between a rock and hard place.
“I’ll never get married; I’ll be a disappointment to my family.”
“You won’t. Your parents love you, you’re never a disappointment Swan, you’re bloody brilliant, we’ll think of a way out of this mess.” He assures her. “And until then you can rest here, recover.” He won’t let anything happen to her.
“How did you find me?” She eventually blurts out, looking up at him. Life was slowly returning to her face. It was a relief if he was being honest.
“I heard a rumor about you that couldn’t be true. I went looking for the source and I found you.” He adds.
“But we’re not…anything anymore.” She adds.
He stares at her dumbfounded. “You know why Swan.” He reminds her, “We are never going to be nothing, because since we parted, I kept my promise, every day.”
There’s tears in her eyes as she kisses him.
“I was running away.” She repeats. “To find you, to tell you…” She trails off. “But it doesn’t matter now Killian. After all the rumors, I have to go home, I have to fix things.” He kisses her back. Knowing the words she can’t say.
They were always playing with fire; they always knew they’d both be burned.
“Until the end of my day, I’ll always love you.” He whispers into her hair. “And that’s why you are going to tell the truth. Tell them a pirate took you, you never made it to Oz. Tell them after this ordeal you need to rethink your plans, your love for Walsh.” He says it bitterly and sarcastically
Emma blinks in surprise. “Killian…”
“It’ll get you out of this mess. No one will suspect anything, there will be no international crisis.” He assures her. Because Emma cared about her people, and a war on Oz for her abduction was the last thing she wanted.
“I’d have to point the finger at you, Killian, they’ll be hunting for your head; my father, Oz, everyone. You’ve been safe because no one cared to hunt the Jolly Roger, not like this, you could never come back to Misthaven…”
He knows. “But you’ll be safe. You’ll be safe from Walsh, safe to find a husband who deserves you.”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“I don’t want to lose you, but it’s the only way.”
He doesn’t expect her to start to cry, practically sobbing into his chest, he just holds her as she does, the stress of everything hitting her all at once. He tells her it’ll be ok.
She doesn’t call him out for lying.
//
They spend the next few days hold up in his cabin or laughing on the deck, anything they can do to forget what will happen when they make port in Arendelle. The story is that she’ll ‘escape’ there, running to her friend who will give her safe passage home.
It takes longer than it usually does; Killian is greedy, knowing this will be the last he sees of her, so he takes the long way, going around storms rather than through them.
“You should take Henry with you.” He says when they reach their destination.
“He’s your mouser.” Emma argues, but he doesn’t care.
“I’ll come back for him.” He insists. “I know you’ll take care of him, and you’ll know that someday I’ll come back, for the cat of course.” He says with a wink.
“Of course.”
There’s a pause, he shifts uncertainly on his feet. He wants to kiss her, but he knows it’s goodbye.
Emma makes the decision for him, surging forward holding on to him for dear life. She kisses him like she’s drowning.
“I’m going to fix this Killian, I promise. I’m going to fix everything.” He asserts.
He knows she will, as he parts, watches her with the cat in hand, he knows that she’ll fix this, that he’ll come back to her someday.
Hopefully sooner rather than later.
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fandomn00blr · 5 years
Text
Dread Moon, Chapter 13 Excerpt
[Context: Post-Inquisition, Pre-Trespasser...Dorian has been ‘rescued’ and is headed back to Skyhold with his Inquisition fam. Anders is struggling to find his place in Kirkwall again, and without Justice. Hawke tries to big sister him to repair their friendship. It starts to work...sorta.]
[Oh shit! Also...have I mentioned how important Orana’s cinnamon buns are to keeping all of Hawke’s friends from killing each other?]
...
A hungover Evelyn was not happy that she had to practically drag Dorian and Cullen aboard the ship Harding had chartered for them the next morning. Bull, and even Alarion, who was technically their prisoner, though it was easy to forget that he would be taken directly to the dungeons as soon as they arrived at Skyhold, came along much more willingly. Aveline as Guard-Captain, and Varric as the official Inquisition ambassador in Kirkwall were there to see them off, and Merrill had accompanied them, having woken up as bright and chipper as ever before sunrise. Hawke and the others opted to sleep in and enjoy the comforts of the Hawke estate, which most of them had been missing for the past few weeks, months, and even years, in Anders’ case.
Just like old times, Orana had cinnamon buns baking and coffee brewing by the time Hawke even realized she’d missed her chance to say goodbye.
She rolled over, from dead asleep to wide awake in an instant. “Fenris!” The mid-morning sun was already streaming in through the curtains. “How could you let me sleep in and miss sending Trevelyn and Cully-Wully off?”
Fenris had already gone for a morning run, done his meditations, bathed, dressed, and was reading on the chaise across the room while enjoying a bowl of strawberries with his cinnamon bun and a cup of hot water and lemon, all parts of his routine that he had been missing dearly for quite some time.
“It’s not really a matter of ‘letting’ you…” he murmured, not looking up from his book.
“Is everyone else gone, too?”
“Isabela just woke up. She’s downstairs with Anders and Orana in the kitchen trying to convince someone to make her an omelette. Your sister said she had to go meet another potential donor for the College. And Merrill went with Varric and Aveline.”
“Why?”
Fenris shrugged, finally looking up at her. “Perhaps she was just being nice?”
“Weird.” She eyed his plate. “Are there anymore cinnamon buns?”
Fenris smiled and shook his head, returning his attention to the book. “I’m sure Orana saved you one.”
Hawke spent the rest of the morning nursing her hangover, gossiping with Isabela and Varric when he returned from the Docks, helping Merrill move more of her stuff into the estate, and insisting on buying Anders a new robe and a trip to the barber.
“You can keep the beard, Anders! But it’s in desperate need of some tidying up. Hobo apostate chic is so...not a thing anymore. And your hair could use a trim, too. The messy man bun still works for you, I think, but the dead ends...you’ve just taken the look way too far.”
“Even I get my glorious chest hair groomed…” Varric bragged, puffing his chest out even more than usual.
Merrill’s eyes lit up. “Really?!”
“Next time, Daisy...I’ll let you tag along to my appointment.”
“Oh! How fun!”
“I just don’t think I need --” Anders began to protest again.
Isabela eyed him knowingly. “No harm in cleaning yourself up! You know...in case you run into anyone cute…”
Anders shot her a quick glare and then turned back to Hawke. “Fine,” he sighed in defeat.
...
An afternoon shopping with and cleaning Anders up turned out to be quite exhausting for both of them, and they headed back to the Hawke estate tired, hungry, and irritable, but not entirely unsuccessful.
“It looks good, you know…” Hawke grumbled, trying not to look like she was admiring him too much. No one could ever call Anders ‘ugly,’ but new clothes and a bit of grooming had certainly reminded her how attractive he was. “I think eating food the past few days has helped a lot, too,” she added, just to annoy him.
“Thanks,” he grunted begrudgingly. He had thought the barber had done a fine job of accentuating the parts of his face that he didn’t completely hate. And the robe he’d picked, after so much fretting, was a nice teal velvet, free-flowing and comfortable, weighted perfectly for his tall lanky frame, with lots of useful pockets inside for potions and herbs and tools. It had gold accents that brought out the amber of his eyes and the various shades of blonde that actually washing his hair had revealed. Even he had to admit that it was nice to look down and appreciate what he was wearing, and how he looked in a mirror for the first time in...well, since he’d come to Kirkwall, really. Justice hadn’t really had much patience for vanity, after all.
But the two of them actually sharing a moment of gratitude and appreciation was short-lived.
“Anders, get behind me…” Hawke muttered, glaring ahead of them into the lengthening shadows of one of Kirkwall’s many winding alleys.
A large sinister-looking figure stepped out, brandishing a Templar’s sword from under his ill-fitting cloak. Several others, smaller in stature, but no less ill-intended emerged behind him. All of them wore hoods or masks to hide their faces. Hawke grinned. Too afraid to even reveal themselves...this would be easy.
“Our beef isn’t with you, Champion. Best get out of the way,” the big one muttered.
Hawke laughed. “I thought we routed all you inbred mage-haters out of the city years ago! Show your faces, you cowards!”
“We represent Kirkwall. You brought this murderer, this terrorist, back to our city, just as we had begun to rebuild from what he did, and we intend to do what you could not five years ago before he does anymore harm.”
“Kirkwall is BETTER NOW, you idiot! Are you so blinded by your ignorance and hate that you don’t see it?”
“I ask you once more, to please step aside. And let this man answer for his crimes.”
“No.”
“You don’t have to do this...” Anders muttered behind her.
“Oh, shut up. You know I do!” she said through gritted teeth, refusing to take her eyes off of the menacing group forming in front of them.
“Very well, then. Try not to kill the Champion, but if you must...” He motioned toward them with his sword and the rest of the group swarmed out of the alley, swords and knives and bows out in front of them. There were far more of them than Hawke had imagined, but they were clearly not trained or very well-organized, and many of their weapons were makeshift or old family heirlooms, heavy and rusted. Most of them didn’t stand a chance. Anders noticed several of the hooded figures were small, child-sized, even for dwarves, and he felt his stomach drop.
“Hawke, don’t!” he shouted. “They’re mostly civilians! And children!”
“They want to kill you!” Hawke shouted back, daggers flashing as she unsheathed them, ready to pounce on the first person who dared to attack. “Civilian or not!”
Anders was panicking. He didn’t want this. This is precisely why he’d hidden himself away in a cave for five years. He felt himself reaching for Justice, trying to will him to take over. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to see this, didn’t want to be a witness or to have to decide between his own life and that of someone else, let alone a child, however murderous. Justice could make those hard decisions. Justice could protect him from the guilt. But Justice was gone.
“Faith and Justice send their regards…” a familiar voice murmured. In his head? Mostly...though his shimmering presence was beginning to coalesce nearby. Compassion.
“Cole! Can you help?!”
The figure nodded, and Hawke did a double-take when she finally noticed him.
“Who…?”
“Nevermind! Get out of the way, Hawke!”
She stepped aside as the shimmering spirit-boy-thing walked right into Anders, and a blinding golden light exploded out of him, pushing the angry mob back as they shielded their eyes.
“Abomination!” the leader of the group cried out, his cloak thrown back revealing full Templar armor underneath, though it was ill-fitting and unpolished. “We must kill him before he transforms into a demon!”
But many of the others had begun to back away, lowering their weapons, pulling their friends and family members along with them.
“Your friends are smart.” Hawke grinned at the man, sauntering up to him with a swagger that Anders had always both loved and hated in equal measure. “Show me that Templar sword again, big man.”
He raised his sword in front of himself defensively, but he couldn’t hide his trembling.
“And take off that stupid hood!” Hawke whipped one of her daggers up and knocked his hood back to reveal a plump-faced, orange-haired man with a ruddy complexion. He looked terrified. “Ah, of course! Ser Mettin! Who let you back into the city? I thought we’d made it quite clear you weren’t welcome here after you threatened to...hmmm...what did you say about my sister? ‘Put that little witch in her place’?”
She dragged her dagger across his cheek, tracing the line of a scar that ran from his ear to his nose. “Bethany gave you this with one flick of her wrist, but you deserved worse. My sister really is the kind and benevolent one of the family. She’s busy at the moment, so I’ll go ahead and finish you off for her.”
“This is my city, too! You and your sister and your friends can’t just do as you please!”
“Why not? Meredith and the Templars certainly did for more than a decade…”
“That was different!”
“You’re right. She was cruel and abusive and driven to madness by her greed for power. We’ve just been trying to help this Maker-forsaken city.”
“Hawke, let him go,” Anders said. Cole was back beside him, watching curiously as Hawke pressed her dagger against his other cheek.
“He doesn’t deserve that…” she mused, sliding the dagger down his jaw to his throat. “How many other mages did you ‘put in their place,’ Mettin?”
Suddenly a barrier flashed between Hawke and Mettin, and the man winced, half expecting it to have been some kind of killing spell. “Let him go!”
Hawke turned around, livid with Anders for interfering with her kill, and it gave Mettin just enough time to throw his hood back up over his head and take off in the other direction.
“Go back to the estate!” she shouted angrily, preparing to pursue him.
“It’s not worth it, Hawke,” Anders sighed.
“I know...he’s pathetic, right? Totally out of shape...I bet he dies of a heart attack before I even get to slit his throat.”
Anders looked at her pleadingly, those damn doe eyes of his begging mercy for the man who’d just tried to incite an angry mob against them. She’d always had a weakness for them, and especially now, with his hair pulled back away from his face, and the new robe with its contrasting teal and gold drawing all her attention to them.
“Fuck, Anders! But he’s complete garbage,” she whined.
“So forget him. Let’s just go.”
Hawke stared longingly down the dark alley, then sighed. “Fine…”
...
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p-artsypants · 6 years
Text
Boy Toy (Act IX)
I have been reading each and every review that comes in, and I appreciate all of them! I also understand some of you are worried about the ending. And I promise, all of my stories have happy endings! (Because it makes the suffering worth it.)
FF.net | AO3
With the collapse of Bludvist, its seemed like the whole Kingdom as they knew it did a complete 180. Daily, Stoick received letters asking for loans and building permits to finally fix some essential buildings. The hospital was on the top of the list. It had been knocked down, looted, and burned over and over again, but Stoick had been adamant that building had to survive, no matter what. So now, with the threat of constant destruction gone, an entire new hospital was being built.
Next on the list was the orphanage. For obvious reasons. Stoick was also offering, what was essentially, free money to those who needed it the most. Families were coming in groups, each collecting a sum and then pooling them together to make enough for a really nice housing unit. Once spring broke in a few weeks, the building could begin, and life would go on.
But that was not so for everyone. Almost immediately after the attack, three men came to Stoick, groveling. They spoke of a plot of assassination on the Tsar’s head, and begged forgiveness since they turned themselves in.
Since none of them knew any helpful information on the matter, they were thrown into the dungeon, and security in the palace was doubled. There wasn’t much else to be done.
Meanwhile, Hiccup and Astrid continued their daily walks. Slowly this time, as Hiccup was still recovering from his grievous wounds, and he had a new leg to get used to. Toothless likewise was recovering, but the brave little thing was doing fine.
“Astrid, can I ask you something?”
“Hmm?”
“When…before I was taken…I had this feeling.” Though he had decided to brooch the subject, he couldn’t quite find his words. “Were there days when you didn’t wind me up?”
Astrid glanced to the snow. “Yes,” she stated, softly. That was before she knew he was human, when she thought she could do what she wanted. “It was days when the calendar was just full of meetings and brunches…I knew I wouldn’t have any time to really interact with you…so I just left you off.”
He furrowed his brows as he studied her. “I don’t think you’re being honest with me.”
God, had he already learned to read her so well? That was a painful thought.
“You got me.” She admitted. “There were days I didn’t start you up…because…” She couldn’t say it. It was just to horrible, and just confirmed everyone’s hateful words about her.
“You started to grow tired of me?”
Her eyes slammed shut. So he figured her out? Well, it was fairly obvious. In the past months, he had proven his intelligence and had already come a long way from the naïve puppet he was at the beginning.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s okay.”
“No, no it’s not.” She frowned hard, holding in painful thoughts. “You’re my husband…my best friend. And I treated you like dirt.”
“Astrid, you didn’t know…”
“I should have!” She shouted, disrupting the peaceful snowfall around them. “I spent the most time around you, so I should have seen it! I should have seen that you had a heart and feelings—“ She turned her head away from him, hiding her shame. “But I was so blinded that I missed it all.”
Warm hands encircled her shoulders. “But that was then, and you came for me. Now, you’ve opened up to me. I forgive you, Astrid.”
His words allowed her shoulders to relax and her head to roll forward. “I…I’m going to make this up to you, Hiccup. You’ve suffered your whole life, and now I want you to enjoy your time you have left.”
He smiled at her gently, and let his fingers dance across her cheek. “I don’t remember much of my old life. My purpose now is just to make you happy. So don’t worry about me, okay?”
Though she audibly agreed, on the inside, she had a much different plan.
The next morning, she awoke to see Hiccup still asleep next to her. His body was still, not breathing like a normal human, but pressing her head to his chest, she still heard the ticking of gears.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, kissing his forehead. “But I need you to stay asleep today.”
She dressed on her own, before Ruff or Tuff even arrived. And when they did, she surprised them by opening the door before they could knock.
“Oh, you’re up early.” Ruff acknowledged.
“I have business to attend to today.”
“Like the brunch with Heather Zerker?”
She had forgotten about that. “I need to reschedule. Today I’m doing something for Hiccup.”
The twins stared in awe, and then scrambled to take care of the necessary preparations.
“Yes!” Cried Ruff, glancing at her list. “We’ll take care of everything! Don’t worry a bit!”
“And, one more thing...” she warned them. “Hiccup is powered off for the day, because what I’m doing is a secret. Leave it that way.”
The twins saluted.
“Good,” she stated, adjusting her cloak to cover part of her face. “Now fetch Snotlout. I’m going out.”
The first stop on her errand run was to Gobber’s.
The toy maker was busy at work, he and Fishlegs were repairing some of the more salvageable toys she had in the basement of the castle.
“Ahem,” she cleared her throat.
“Your majesty!” Fishlegs nearly shouted, dropping a screwdriver.
“As you were,” she stated cooly.
“Well Princess,” greeted Gobber. “What can I do you for? Is Hiccup alright?” He noted the boy’s absence.
“My husband is doing well since the incident.” She provided. “But I’m here on a private matter, one that must remain secret from him.”
Fishlegs stopped his working and listened in interest.
“Oh?” Asked Gobber.
“I would like his name, his real name.”
Gobber sighed, “Are you sure about this? He doesn’t have any memories and he—“
“His name, Gobber.”
“…it’s Henry.”
The memory of the woman during the parade came to mind. She had also called him Henry.
“And his last name?”
“I don’t know.” Gobber shrugged. “When the lad was still a little thing, maybe around 8 or 9, he came and asked me to teach him how to make toys, because he couldn’t afford to buy them himself. So I took him in as an apprentice. He said he didn’t have a last name, and that he lived with his mother in the narrows.”
The narrows were a part of the town down by the docks. Where most of the buildings were abandoned warehouses, there were a handful of shacks, some being only a room with a whole family in it. Being so far from the market meant they were far from the Berk Guard. There was no protection from criminals, but there were rarely raids from Bludvist all the way down there.
“So he was your apprentice?” She asked, “for how long?”
“Up until he died, actually. Fishlegs joined us about two years ago, when we made that working catapult.”
Ah yes, she remembered that one. A great deal of fun.
“You met him a few times too, on birthdays and Christmas.”
Her eyes widened. “What? I did? I don’t remember…”
“He never introduced himself, but he was there when we delivered presents. He said he enjoyed seeing your reaction.”
A guilty knife stabbed her in the gut and made her weak in the knees.
“I met his mother on occasion, but she seemed like a very private person. Didn’t say much, and never stayed for very long. But she loved him immensely. He never knew his father.”
“When did he…you know…?”
Gobber sighed, sitting on his bench. He glanced to a room in the back corner, that was covered by a sheet. “I should have noticed sooner. He never ate the food I gave him, instead wrapping it up to take home to share with his mother. He was always skinny, skinny as a twig. But then one day, he fell in the snow and broke a few ribs. It wasn’t a bad fall, so I knew something was wrong. Turned out, he hadn’t eaten in weeks. His mother was ill, and he gave her every morsel he could scrape up. All the while, he was lying to her that he was eating his own portions. So we sat him down, and forced him to actually eat. But by then…it was too late. His mother came to me crying, and said that he went to bed feeling sick, and never woke up.”
Tears came to Astrid’s eyes, hating everything that was being said.
“We buried him, and then we came to your birthday ball.”
Her eyes widened. “Right after?”
“It was a good distraction.” Provided Fishlegs.
“When you said ’I want you to make me a husband’ my immediate thought was ‘we should bring Henry back.’”
“How?” She asked, “How on earth did you do it? In three days, no less?”
Gobber beckoned her and Snotlout into the back room. It was a workstation, and it looked like it hadn’t been disturbed in a long time. “Is this…?”
“His work room, yes. Henry was extremely smart and creative, despite having no education. He taught himself how to read, and did research on physics, aerodynamics, human and animal anatomy…everything that caught his interest.” Gobber picked up a journal that sat on the workbench. “It started innocent. He found a little black cat that was missing a leg, and nursed it back to health, creating a fake leg for him.”
“Toothless!” She exclaimed.
Gobber stared at her in surprise. “Yes, that was what he called him. How did you know that?”
She smiled, fondly. “He…Toothless was following him. Hiccup found him in the courtyard and took care of him. He dubbed him Toothless out of the blue, and the name stuck.”
Gobber smoothed his mustache. “It seems…some of his memories are coming back to him.”
Astrid nodded, but said nothing, urging him to continue.
“Not long after people noticed Toothless walking everywhere with him, a little old woman came to us. She had lost her cat to old age, but she wanted her companion with her for the time she had left. So Hiccup designed a…system of sorts. Something that worked like an artificial heart to keep the body running like it normally would. Only, it had to be powered by a hand crank. Therefore, the wind up key. When it worked, we kind of thought he was crazy, but he promised never to touch it again.”
“You mean he designed…that whole thing?”
“Yes, every detail and note is contained in this.” Gobber handed her the journal. “He didn’t create it with the intention to revive a human, and if I hadn’t been drinking, I probably wouldn’t have tried to do it either. It is rather…morbid and wrong.”
Astrid didn’t say anything, just held the journal in her hand.
“But, of anyone in Berk that deserved a second chance…I think he definitely earned it.”
Astrid wiped her eyes.
“Does that give you closure?”
She looked to him. “Does he have any other journals? Can I take them to him?”
Gobber frowned. “Are you sure? If he reads these…it could bring back old memories.”
“That’s what I want. I know he suffered, but he deserves to know the truth about who he was.”
Gobber sighed, knowing there was no arguing with the Princess. So he simply nodded and got to work packaging up all his notes and sketchbooks. “Just be careful.”
She nodded.
The next stop was the graveyard. she wasn’t quite sure why she decided to come here, but she just wanted to see his grave. Maybe to cement the fact that her husband was dead at one point.
Problem was, the graveyard was fairly large, since Bludvist tended to keep things busy.
“Do we even know if his graved was marked?” Asked Snotlout.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I should have asked Gobber.”
“Pardon me,” a voice spoke.
Turning, they were greeted by a man not much older than the Princess, looking rather large and imposing. He wore red robes, those associated with the church, but had three blue lines inked on his broad chin.
“You’re a—“ Astrid began, taking a few steps towards her guard.
“A milk drinker?” He asked, pleasantly. “Yes, I was. Don’t worry, it frightens everyone. I may have been born up in the mountains, but I don’t consider it my home. My name is Eret, I’m the undertaker here. Now that you know that I’m not going to hurt you, can I help you?”
Astrid smiled in relief, but Snotlout did not relax his guard. “I’m looking for a grave. The name Henry, buried around November 13th.”
“Hmm…last name?”
“No last name.”
“No last name? Oh! I think I actually know who you’re talking about. This way.”
The Princess and her guard followed Eret past all sorts of statues of angels and headstones, until he stopped at a little plot. It was only marked with a puny wooden cross. “Well, this is it. Young Henry, died of starvation.”
“Yes, this would be the grave we’re looking for.” There was no body in it, but just the sight of the cross sent a real, true coldness to her bones. She crossed her arms a little.
“Did you know him?” The undertaker asked.
He obviously had no idea who she was, since her hood hid her identity. And it was safer that way. “No, not really. Did you?”
“A bit.” Said Eret. “I began to keep an eye on his mother after his passing. She’s quite ill, and it’s only a matter of time before…”
“What is she ill with?” Astrid asked, not hiding the concern in her voice.
“Not sure. She can’t afford a doctor. We here call it poverty disease. It’s when someone gets sick, and then can’t afford any care. Eventually it’s just exacerbated by them trying to continue working…”
“Where is she? I’d love to help.”
“She lives down in the narrows, by the old fishery. Her name is Valerie.”
Astrid, for being the Princess of a country, had never been to the narrows before. Surely, Stoick would throttle her if he found out she went there with only one guard.
“Hey Astrid?” Snotlout asked softly.
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you’re good at fighting too. This place makes me nervous. Not that I can’t protect you, but…”
“I wonder how many times Hiccup was jumped coming home from work?”
Snotlout sneered, “once would be too many.”
They spotted a woman doing laundry, and asked her if she knew of a woman named Valerie. Then they were pointed in the right direction. Despite the grittiness of the area, the folks were helpful enough. Though Astrid did receive a few too many lewd looks while Snotlout received the finger.
“I dressed down,” Astrid noted, looking at her plain clothes. “But I still look a lot nicer than all these people.”
“Lets just find Hiccup’s mom and get out of here.”
Finally, they came to a little shack. Smoke rose out of the little tin chimney, indicating that someone was home. Astrid knocked, “Hello? Miss Valerie?”
A weak voice answered from within. “Who is it? What do you want?”
“I…am a friend of your son’s. I would just like a word, please.”
There was a pause and then, “come in.”
The shack was in order. A small room with two beds opposite of each other, and a fire pit in the middle of the dirt floor. Nothing else was there to mention.
In one bed laid a woman, looking incredibly thin and frail. She fought to sit up, coughing a few times. “Hello?”
Astrid didn’t know what to say. A few months ago, she had mocked this woman, and called her crazy. But now, she was meeting her mother in law, and didn’t have a clue how to proceed. “Uh…”
“You knew my Henry?” The woman’s eyes were filled with sorrow, and the dirt on her hollow cheeks made her look like a skeleton.
Oh, Astrid should have put more thought into this. Yes, reuniting Hiccup was his mother sounded like a wonderfully kind thing to do. But the woman had already lost her son once, and now he was going again. This wasn’t fair to her.
“Please,” said Valerie. “Tell me how you knew him...I miss him so much.”
With a sad sigh, Astrid stepped forward, and took a seat on the bed, pulling her hood from her face. “I know your son…”
“You’re…the Princess Astrid? But…how? Why? Here?” She shook her head. “Your husband, during the parade…”
“He is Henry,” She confirmed, holding the woman’s hand. “He’s alive.”
“He’s a—…” The woman dissolved into tears and curled in on herself.
Snotlout watched in awe as his princess embraced this filthy beggar woman in a comforting hug. He had fairly recent memories of Astrid spitting on such people.
But that was before Hiccup came along.
“Snotlout,” Astrid called.
“Highness,” he snapped to attention.
“Can you fetch a carriage? She needs to come with us to the palace.”
“No, no please...” the woman begged, her tears making streaks in the dirt on her face.
“Listen,” Astrid said, taking a firm grasp of her arms. “Henry is...he’s not the same boy that you knew. He did die, that is true. But the toy maker brought him back. He doesn’t remember who he used to be, and his body is entirely dependent on machinery now.”
“...what?” The woman breathed.
“Unfortunately...there’s been a malfunction.” She looked into the mother’s eyes, and felt her voice die in her throat. This wasn’t fair. She shouldn’t be doing this! “He...he won’t last much longer. But you deserve to be with him, too.”
Valerie shut her eyes tight as she continued to cry, overwhelmed in grief and relief.
“But you’re very ill, and I can’t let you stay here.”
“I can’t!” Valerie protested. “I can’t go with you!”
Astrid pleaded with her, earnestly. “I’m not leaving my mother in law to starve like a wretch in this squalor! You’re coming with us!”
“No!” She cried. “It’s not safe for me! It’s not safe for Stoick! I can’t go back!”
Wait.
“What?” Asked Astrid, leaning closer. “What did you say?” No one ever called the Tsar by his first name alone, well, except for her.
Valerie shook her head. “I’ve already said too much, I can’t…it’s not safe…”
Gently, Astrid grasped the woman’s arm again. “Please. If this a threat to our safety, you need to tell me.”
The woman wiped her eyes, trembling. “I’m sorry…I…Valerie isn’t my real name.”
Astrid just stared at her, eyes narrowing.
“My name is Valka, Valka Haddock.”
Silence reigned as Astrid stood suddenly, shell shocked. Haddock was Stoick’s last name, a rare fact because of the royal status. And Valka…Valka had been the name of his late wife. The one taken by Bludvist.
“I don’t—“ Astrid stuttered, “I don’t understand. You’re the queen?”
Valka hushed her, “you mustn’t speak so loud!”
“I’m sorry,” Astrid took a calming breath and returned to sitting on the bed. “Please, continue. I’m all ears.”
Valka gnawed at her lip, nervously. “Stoick and I…we were married. At first, it was…a rough marriage. Arranged.”
She had heard a little about the marriage from Stoick. He wasn’t keen on talking about it, but when prodded, he admitted that he had been fond of her before she was lost.
“When I found out I was pregnant,” began the woman, “I was…overjoyed. Stoick was a nice, gentle man, but he didn’t love me the way I loved him. With our baby, it was like…I’d finally have a part of him to love me back. However…the Chancellor, Osvald Zerker, was not happy about this news.”
“The Chancellor? Why?”
“Because if anything happened to Stoick, he would win the crown.”
She had heard nothing of this before. “What? Since when?”
“Since Stoick was an only child with no heirs. Technically, Spitelout, the Captain of the Guard, was the closest relative, but he was not deemed competent enough to rule. So Osvald was deemed viceroy. That is…until the crown prince was to be born.”
A cold fear crept into the back of Astrid’s mind when she remembered Dagur. During a the fight that ensued over Mala’s pregnancy, he had carelessly mentioned that he was only interested in her for her power. Now it seemed like Dagur hadn’t gotten that idea on his own.
“Osvald came to me one night, two guards with him,” Valka continued. “He gave me a choice. I could purposefully lose my baby, or I could save him and kill Stoick in his sleep. If I refused to both, they would take me to Bludvist, and that would be the cue to start the raids on the royals.”  
“So…Osvald wanted to take the throne?” Astrid asked. This would confirm the plot of assassination those men had warned them about.
“Yes, and he was willing to do whatever it took to get it.”
This was turning out to be a very interesting and insightful day. As soon as they returned to the palace, she would make sure that Osvald was jailed.  
“I chose to run. After a while, the guard stopped looking for me, and assumed I was taken by Bludvist. In this way, I was able to protect Henry and Stoick.”
“Oh my god!” Astrid said suddenly, the last bit of information clicking into place. “Hi—Henry is Stoick’s son!”
“Yes,” she confirmed.
“He’s the Crown Prince!”
“Yes.”
Astrid put her hands on her head, dealing with this information. What a strange twist of fate. She shook herself out of her trance. If all this was true, she had a lot of work left to do. “Well, it’s safe now.” Astrid assured. “Osvald can threaten you all he likes, but I personally saw that Bludvist was eradicated. And we are aware of the assassination plot, so the guard in the palace in on alert.”
“But some of the guards are plotting with Osvald!”
“Never the less,” Astrid pressed. “I am next in line for the throne. If he wants to hurt Stoick, he’ll have to get to me first, and I will personally make him suffer as Fragonard suffered.”  
Uncertainty was still violently within Valka. After all, she had spent her whole life hiding, and just a few words were supposed to put her at ease?
“You’re coming with us. I’m not giving you a choice.”
Resigned, Valka closed her eyes. “Alright then, I’ll come back.”
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hezroudhiaga · 7 years
Text
Impurity in Kugane
Warning: This is an RP Between myself and a fellow guildie of the Red Dragon Syndicate <<KAIJU>> FFXIV Mateus NA Server. A mature theme is applied here so those who are triggered/tilted about sex trafficking, rape, torture, blood, gore or anything of a mature theme then please stop reading here. Thank you. Enjoy.
True to her word, it did not take long for Yukihana to return home and gather which of her few belongings would be needed on such a trip as the one the duo were about to embark upon. Her attire was the first thing she changed, opting for a rather simple Eorzean traveling cloak  with a draping hood that would conceal her delicate features deep within its shadows. Her boots were soft and supple, capable of remaining comfortable after many miles walked. Like  everything she owned, they were a bit worse for the wear and most likely second hand. The bag she packed with the rest of her supplies - a few changes of gear, medical supplies, and the like - was simple and lightweight, easily slung over a shoulder.
As the Raen slipped out the front door, a hand lifted to activate her link pearl and softly she spoke. "I am ready whenever you are."
Hezrou had read the contents later that night, and true to his nature, he wasn't sleeping that night. In fact, he was twitching with anger on how much he wanted to butcher this man. He thought it was disgusting what was happening in Kugane and knew they'd do the realm a favor by riding it of this man. His ears perked and his anger was forgotten briefly when he heard her voice softly in his ear from the pearl in his earring. Lifting his hand up he touched it to respond. "I'll be there as soon as possible. I'll meet you at the docks."
When Yukihana would arrive, Hezrou was there waiting and talking to the captain of the ship they were going to board. At first the pirate didn't want to help them but was immediately sold when Hezrou passed over a nice sum of gil to quiet is refusal. The Miqo'te looked over his shoulder as Yukihana arrived and smiled. "Ah, just in time. I had just secured us a fair passage to Kugane." He said. He was wearing a robe over himself with a hood of his own, but his armor was slightly seeable under the folds. His sword's hilt was poking out of an opening of the cloak in it's sheath.
The trip took three days. Hezrou choose to stay below deck as the sea bothered him. It wasn't that he hated water, but he actually got rather seasick if he were to look at the water from the deck. He thought it might of been the air. Either way, he wouldn't leave until they were docked in the eastern part of the Realm. Once docked, he left with her to look around and get a feel of the area. He knew their getup wouldn't survive a day out here. "Yuki...we'll need better clothing if we want to remain hidden. I suggest we invest in a kimono or something." He already felt the odd stares from the natives. It was obvious they were outsiders to this city already. He hated having attention to himself.
As she made her way down to the docks, Yuki's hood was already pulled high over her multi-hued hair, adding a good few inches to her diminutive height. Though her head was kept down, it would seem that she had no difficulty in finding her target there upon the docks. Spying him with a belligerent Captain, she kept her distance even more so than usual, watching the exchange from the shadows of her hood. It wasn't until she saw coin change hands that she allowed herself to inch forward and offer a nod of greeting to Hezrou.
"Thank you," she murmured quietly as her hands slipped from the cloak's pockets to clutch at the strap of her satchel. The Raen's gaze traveled up and down his form, taking note of both the armor and the exposed hilt of his blade. Without so much as an ounce of hesitation, Yukihana turned and made her way up the gangplank.
No time was wasted in acquainting herself with the ship, at least from a distance. In the first few hours of their time aboard, careful attention was paid to those manning the vessel. From beneath the safety of her cowl, she learned the features and apparent duties of those moving about both above and below deck. It would seem as if the woman utterly refused to permit herself to rest or relax until she was satisfied with her learnings.
Throughout the three days they traveled, Yuki was back and forth between Hezrou's quarters, her own, and the deck of the ship. While he may have been bothered by the sea, it was the exact opposite for her. In fact, it seemed to bring a bright spark of life to her - at least until the final day of their voyage, when the quiet overtook her once more.
"You mean.. Give up our cloaks?" The question was nervous, almost shaky. She loathed the idea of being so exposed in the city. For her it was as if they were asking for... No, those thoughts would lead them no where worthwhile. Best not to dwell upon it. "Perhaps that would be for the best.. There is a shopping district where we should be able to find all that we need. We should have enough left in our allowance as well."
"We have plenty for our allowance." Hezrou replied. "Sufficient to resupply, find an inn to stay in for the time being and prepare." The Miqo'te looked around a moment before finding his bearings on where they were and heading for the shopping district. It was crowded and he hated it quite a bit. He hadn't really been in a crowd of people for a while now so it was almost overwhelming at first.
But once he was collected he found themselves a quiet little shop and spent some time browsing the wears. He got himself a silken white Kimono with red and gold designs along the sleeves and bottom. The tie around his waist was a deep red and he eased his katana with the strap so that it hung snug at his side again. He bought a hat to go with it, but he didn't like how it was mostly made for those without Miqo'te ears. He had to settle for buying it and figure out how to cut holes for his ears later if he felt like keeping it.
He waited around the front for her after changing, having already paid for both of their outfits once he was sure his fit. He still wore his blindfold, but he knew eventually he'd have to remove it. Or else it'd be easier to recognize him if the group they planned to attack would seek him out.
Moving through the city with Yuki for a companion was... Well, perhaps a unique experience. She picked her way through the crowds in a slow but steady manner, taking care with each move to prevent bumping into another. Arriving in the shop seemed to be the most treasured thing they had managed throughout the day's trek. Several deep breaths were taken upon their entry and what looked like the faintest hint of a tremble raced down the woman's spine.
Like Hezrou, she took her time in perusing the goods on display, dismissing several garments seemingly without any complaint other than the very feel of the fabric. Each article of clothing was inspected with care - the color, the texture, even the weight of the garment all seemed to matter a great deal. In the end she selected an elegant pink kimono with white and gold stitching. To match she selected a pin adorned with pink cherry blossom spray.
After changing she emerged, head down. For once her hair was fully drawn back from her features revealing pale, clear blue eyes surrounded by an oddly pink limbral ring. Unlike many of her kind, the scaling over her nose did not dare to traverse down the bridge, remaining squarely between her eyes. "So on to an inn now or is there more you would prefer from the shops?"
"I think we're set." Hezrou chuckled softly. He guided them to the inns and he found one close to a window and not too high from the ground so that he could go in and out on his own at night for what he planned for. He wanted to investigate this group and see what he had to look out for. If she couldn't fight, then it was just him. And he felt that those bastards would risk the lives of the women just to get what they wanted so he had to be quick and clean about it.
Looking about the room they chose he nodded in approval. "Alright...You read what we had to do right? This is going to be difficult..." He sighed deeply, crossing his arms across his chest. "I think playing it safe is the best option here. Going in slashing people's throats would just draw the attention of the Sekiseigumi. And THAT we cannot have. And I fear for the women should they get desperate..." He looked back at her. "You need anything for your side of things?"
Yuki was like a silent shadow following along behind him throughout the city's districts. Once in a room to suit him, she inspected everything twice over, even going so far as to run her hands along the bottoms of drawers in the room. "I read, yes," she said from a crouched position on the floor near one of the beds.
From deep within the sleeve of her kimono came a knife, which was promptly use to slash a small gash in the flooring. A small pouch that jingled as if filled with just enough Gil to provide for another two nights in the inn was then slid flat beneath hole she'd created. Reaching into her satchel, Yuki pulled free a palm sized sewing kit which was then used to neatly repair the damage she'd caused. Her work was as precise and neat as if she'd been stitching a wound and when she was done, the blankets that covered the bed hung just so as to cover any imperfection that might possibly be noticed. "Just in case," she murmured before straightening.
"I agree. I would rather cause as little loss of life here as possible. Fearing for the women is all well and good, as many are innocent but there are some who will potentially be loyal to the men in charge - foolishly, but still. There was no Intel on any markings that the brothel might use, but keep an eye out.
Generally they will bear a tattoo that stands as an obvious mark to which house they belong. The more elaborate the tattoo... The more they are valued by the owners." She paused, looking over to him with somewhat wide eyes.
"...Typically speaking that is. There is nothing that I can think of now that I need, but once we grow closer to time, it might be wise to have a few extra garments on hand to change the ladies into."
Hezrou didn't even think of that. He put his hand to his chin in thought, his ears drawing back a bit as he paced a bit. "The ones that would be able to be saved...I'm sure we can find someone willing to alter the tattoos to mask them." He replied. The Miqo'te paused in his pace and looked towards her. "I think it is best you stay here for a bit. I'll do all the lurking and hunting." He smiled a small bit. "That was a good idea you had, by the way. About the tattoos." He looked over his shoulder towards the window. He'd have to wait until nightfall to do his hunting. "I was thinking of once I know their routes I'll section one off and steal their gear. Posing as one of them just to get inside. Hopefully there's enough of them that they won't know who's who." He then paused and reached up to feel his ears. "Hmm...I should hide these. And my tail...You think they'd stand out? I didn't see too many Miqo'te in Kugane while we were here. I'd stand out as an outsider, you think?"
"We can find that in Ul'dah or Limsa Lominsa, so that we are not here as long. The longer we remain in the city walls, the harder it will be to make our escape. Just the garments to cover them will be enough until we make our way out of Kugane."  As she spoke she moved throughout the room, setting up the medicines and supplies she'd brought in a sort of makeshift infirmary. Her arrangements practically created a rainbow of colored potions. "I will not complain about remaining here if that is what you think is best. This place is... That they could even call it 'pure'..." She trailed off with a most unladylike snort. "That or you could simply claim to be the cousin of a cousin, fresh to the city... It would not hurt to have a ready made excuse, just in case. And yes, we should hide your ears and tails. They do make you easily identifiable here. Are you certain there is naught I can do to be of help outside of hiding here?"
Hezrou thought a moment. "Perhaps get to know the area? We can probably find a back way somewhere. Or see if there are any allies out here for us to use as a distraction against them." He suggested. He felt along his ears, trying to think how he could hide them. They were so big...He looked at the hat and had an idea after a moment. As much as he hated to do it, he removed the cloth he had wrapped around his eye and moved it to wrap around the top of his head to press down his ears. The eye itself was fine, but there were two nasty scars across it. It was like either a claw or blade of some kind had slashed into his face some time in the past. It didn't look too bad on him, actually, but he hated it himself. He felt it was ugly as well as a sore thumb if it came to his dirty work. He put on the hat he had bought earlier which hid the covered ears nicely, as well as the black cloth itself.
"There..." He murmured more so to himself. He then looked back at his tail and had to think a moment. He couldn't just put it under the clothes. "Maybe...I can tie it around my waist, tuck it under itself and hold it there with the wrap around my waist?" He offered curiously, taking his tail and then looked down at the wrap around his waist holding the kimono together. He never thought he'd ever have to hide his tail or ears in his whole life. How embarrassing...
"I shall learn the area - we can ill  afford to risk making allies out of the wrong sort," she said, shooting a glance in his direction. For a moment she watched him run his hands along his ears, curious as to just what he could possibly do to hide them... Did they even fold down for longer than a few moments? Oh, there were questions aplenty but whatever they might have been, they died on her lips as the cloth over his eye was removed to reveal those scars. While not at all unexpected, she still furrowed her brows before looking away once more. By the time he had himself settled, she had finished her work and stood, watching him from across the inn room. "I could sew a sort of pocket into your kimono if you would like. It might be a bit less painful than tying it around your waist or tucking it."
"Nah." Hezrou shook his head. "It'd move around when I would and might flip the cloth around. Can't be having that..." He turned his back to her to untie the wrap and tried to situate his tail how he thought. It was difficult, since his tail wanted to just move back but he eventually had a good snag on it and wrapped it up. It felt...really weird. Extremely weird. All of this was weird. It felt like his balance was just completely gone and he was going to learn to walk all over again. He moved over to the bathroom - if a bit of an odd step at first - and looked it all over. He never hated himself more than he did then. He looked like a damn highlander with face paint! Then it hit him. The face paint!
"Yukihana! Do you have any make up?" He called from the bathroom. "I totally forgot about these tattoos..." He didn't think they would be a bother, but the design was rather obvious. It was kind of a tribe thing. "I think after that I should be good to go out once it gets dark. After....After I can walk a straight line." He chuckled a bit. "I feel like I had one too many drinks but without the haze in my mind."
Yukihana could not help but stop and stare as the man worked to arrange his tail. Not so sneakily she even reached a hand back to touch her own tail but... alas, there was no way she was going to even attempt to manage all of that. Nope. To keep from daring to laugh at the way he took that odd first step, the Raen drew her lower lip between her teeth and simply took a step back to keep from blocking his way to the restroom in any sense of the way.
"Make up? I ah.. Well..." From within the room she could be heard to rummage around in her bag. "I do not typically wear it any longer but I do have a bit of powder from my last trip that might work...It is rather old though. You can wear this tonight and I can go out tomorrow morning and pick up something a bit more.... fresh." The powder was brought to her nose for a sniff and she nodded while stepping towards the bathroom. "It still smells pretty."  Yes, because every man wanted to 'smell pretty'. "You can always pretend to be drunk too, if you go out late enough that is."
Hezrou chuckled. "I think if I acted drunk that's just blow our cover more." He teased back and took it. "Smelling pretty...Well, I suppose I can just tell 'em i'm gay if I want to smell feminine. Or that I had some time with a lovely lady." He rolled his eyes and smelt it. It did smell like a lot of pretty flowers in a meadow. Kind of reminded him of his old home when he was still a child. He applied the make up and took some time to blend it in to match his skin. He tilted and turned his head to inspect himself before he felt he was good and hidden away. He hated it, but it would work. He felt so....Highlander. "I miss my ears already." He commented.
Yuki actually allowed a laugh to escape, a sound that was quickly muffled by the raising of her hand. "Either works," she said through the giggles. The Raen waited patiently for the make up to be applied and blended before she stepped forward and peeked at his face closely. "I shall get something a bit more suited to you in the morning. Perhaps grab a quick bite of breakfast to bring back - or well, if you are to be out all night, it would more be your dinner." A thought pause came before she smiled up at him. "They will be back soon. Or you could set them free until time to leave?"
Hezrou chuckled. "I'll probably let them loose again when the mission is over. That's if we can manage a one night sting." He looked over at her from the reflection in the mirror. "Shouldn't be too hard to break into a brothel and kill a fat bastard." He chuckled and headed out of the bathroom, taking slow steps to practice so he could walk by the time the sun fell. "I'll try to sneak in while he's not paying attention...cut his head clean from his shoulders or something quick. There won't be no sound..." He stretched his arms out from his sides to help balance for a bit. "Shall I bring that bundle of sticks they mentioned as a show of the kill? Or his head? ...I think Akuma would enjoy seeing that bastard's dead eyes."
"Just... be careful alright? We cannot save anyone if we get ourselves caught." Worry crept into her gaze then, but she was swift to find another place to direct her eyes. What if it wasn't easy to break into the brothel and kill the monster? It certainly wasn't... No, no... She had promised herself that she wouldn't permit herself to get lost while they were here. That could come once they were home, once others weren't depending on her...
"I ah... I did not think to ask him what we should bring back. I thought the girls might be enough, but then we could always just free them and not handle the rest... Perhaps we can call him quickly, though then it might look as if we are not capable of handling this ourselves..."
"I'm going to bring back his sword." Hezrou said suddenly after she spoke. "That will be Akuma's reward." It would be easier to smuggle that then a head. He turned on his heel so he could face her, his hands still outstretched and his body still a bit wobbly as he kept his balance. This was harder than it looked. His tail was pulling at the sash but it didn't budge and his back muscles felt so tight picking up the slack in trying to balance himself out. His expression, however, was a bit dark. He was ready for this. He wanted to murder this man in cold blood for the corruption he's helping pool into Kogane. "We'll succeed...I know we can." He added after a moment, taking a few slow steps, almost a straight line. "We'll make it through and back to the Syndicate and we'll get those women out of Kogane and Doma and to Eorzea...give them a new life. A free life."
Watching him with an intent gaze, Yuki nodded slowly. "I am sure he would appreciate having the man's blade and knowing that he can do no more evil with it at his side." Were she capable of such, she would've offered out her hands to help steady him as he learned this new way of balancing himself, but alas... "We will, you are right. They will get all new lives and while it may not be the easiest life, it will be their own and free. That... that is a miracle in and of itself."
Hezrou nodded in agreement to her words. It took several hours of nonstop practice for Hezrou to finally walk straight and mostly normal. Maybe with a bit of a odd movement here and there. He even tried crouching and moving quickly to see if he could handle it. The first few times in the beginning would land him face first to the floor or even bumping into a wall or two. But by the time the sun was set, he was mostly ready.
"Alright...I'm going to go and find a way in. Feel free to talk to me through the pearl if something comes up or you need to check on me." Hezrou said as he moved to the window to use it as a easy escape outside rather than using the door to avoid people seeing him leave the public way.
Each topple or bump had earned the man a wince from the healer, though she'd not once criticized the way he learned. In fact, she seemed rather impressed. Mastering a new way to walk in less than twenty four hours was a feat she didn't think she could manage. By the time he was ready, she'd already placed the 'do not disturb' placard on the door to discourage any visits from the inn staff and stood waiting for him to depart.
"Just.. keep in contact as you can, alright? If you get into any trouble, just call." Moving into the Rakuza district of Kugane as the long shadows of night wrapped themselves around the bustling city, it became obvious that the streets belonged to Miyazaki and his swine. Stores that were considered their own had one or two members lurking outside as both protection and enforcer. This only grew worse the closer Hezrou grew to their target. Not only were Miyazaki's men lingering outside of the brothel, but more could be seen mingling with the women inside.
Hezrou stuck to the shadows and rooftops as he traveled. His eyes wide as he looked out into the darkness into the lit streets below. He kept going deeper and deeper until security was so tight that he knew he had to be close to their headquarters. His crimson eyes could see everything with the lamps reflecting the light for him. He would move about the area, counting guards, seeing their interactions with customers and finding out which women were brothel women. This task definitely wasn't an easy one and he knew then that not all of the women could be saved. He remained perched behind the top of a building until he saw Miyazaki finally making his rounds in the area. Smoking that cigar as described.
The man was indeed heavy, his face round and puffy but no doubt intimidating. His size could easily crush either of them if he wanted. Hezrou felt like that katana of his was a simple sword at his side. It disgusted him. The man would get a drink here, a meal there...yell at some other businesses and even cause a scene where he shot a man for not paying a debt to the brothel. He tailed the man until he found new girls coming in being carried by his goons. Drugged and completely out of it. It was busy enough and so many goons that it should be easy to blend.
Dropping into an alley he landed on his hands and feet but tumbled sideways into a wall since his tail wasn't there to counteract the landing. Pushing himself up he crept behind a guard standing watch to keep visitors from going in and wrapped an arm around his neck, his hand over their nose and mouth to keep him silent and quickly dragged him into the darkness. he slammed their head into the floor with a small thud and didn't even care if it was a little too hard to do more than knock him out. Looking towards the crowd outside nobody seemed to notice the guard missing. Good.
He stood and begun to undo his kimono and set his sword against the wall quietly before stripping the man down to nothing and donning the goon's uniform. He would wrap his ears down again and his tail in the sash around his waist once more when he was done. Hezrou then took his clothes and wrapped them up neatly and setting them hidden behind some wooden crates for when he'd make his escape later. "Took down a single guard. Got the uniform. I'm going undercover." He whispered over the pearl to update her on his situation. "Miyazaki spotted investigating the new shipment of women. I'm going to use this time to head to the HQ and find a hiding place for when he returns." He headed out of the alley and replaced the guard 'on watch' for a moment before walking towards the HQ as casually as he could to blend in.
As painful and sad as it might be to bear witness, some of those women trapped within that house remained willingly and had perhaps even came of their own accord rather than being abducted off the streets. For the most part there were subtle ways to tell the difference in the women. Those who were there willingly had a light in their eyes as they worked the floor. Their laughs came easily and freely, not forced or restrained like those whose gaze were haunted or dim. Those there against their wills had a certain caged look, like their backs were against the wall and there was nowhere left to run, no hope left in the whole of the world. Even if Hezrou and Yukihana could somehow pull off the impossible and free them all, a part of them would remain trapped in this house until they found some way to mend that which had been broken. And the path of the broken was never an easy one to walk....
Back in the inn room, Yukihana paced the floor anxiously, already imagining all the potential ways this could go wrong. Though she swore to do no harm, one dagger had been returned to its place within her kimono sleeve while another was strapped to her thigh. Another yet lay upon the bedding, a simple arm's reach away should any threat come through either the open window or dared to take down the door she'd locked and bolted earlier.
"Still whole?" Came the immediate question when Hezrou spoke of taking down the guard. To the window she went, taking up a perch in the open and allowing the breeze to wash over her features. "If you think we can get this in one night, I shall head out now... Find our path out rather than wait for morning. I have knives, can make myself... unappealing for the take."
Perhaps the lovely lady luck was on their side, for by the time Hezrou made his return the numbers had thinned out by a few. Some had wandered off to the back of the house, a lady (or two) in tow. Others had heard word of the arrival of the new 'goods' and had slunk off to try for first dibs. Those still milling about didn't speak of the man's arrival, but rather nodded in greeting. If they thought anything was off about his presence or even the way he walked, they held their gossip until he'd passed them by.
"Still whole." He whispered as he walked. "Go ahead and go to the extraction point. I'll see what I can get while I'm making my way there." He went quiet once he got near the guards as to not arouse their attention. Hezrou was surprised how easy it was to slip in. He would return the nod and keep moving. He even posed to bring a girl or two back himself once he saw the dimmed and broken look in their eyes. That dissatisfaction of yet another man greeding and drooling over them. The Miqo'te hated to act like a pig, but it worked. He got at least two with him and once he was out of sight of the guards he dropped the mask completely. He told them he wasn't going to touch them and he was here to help. He could see it right then and there the hope in their eyes. But they didn't speak as to blow his cover and merely nodded their heads.
He'd quietly lead them to a safe room before getting a few more girls from different areas of the building. He had close to twelve and would guide them one by one through the back way once it was clear to where Yukihana would likely be waiting. The whole process took at least an hour so it left her plenty of time to arrive. The girls were all together, holding each other and dead silent as they traveled for fear of getting caught. Hezrou himself was nervous as hell, but didn't let it show. His face was straight, eyes determined and steeled.
They'd at least save some...which was good enough for him. Maybe weakening this operation could give the Sekiseigumi to finally investigate and shut it down after tonight.
"On my way now." Her bag was snatched from the floor and slung over a shoulder, though the rest of what she'd set out and hidden away was left precisely as she'd set it. Out the window she went, dropping down to the grass and giving a look both ways before she turned to head to their meeting place.
Getting near the extraction point meant going deeper into the heart of the Rakuza district, meant moving back towards a corner of the world she'd sworn never to set foot in again... Emotions threatened to consume, fear and bile rising high in her throat. Why did her feet continue to carry her onward when her mind screamed out in agony for her to run, to flee. It was her heart that kept one foot moving silently before the other. The need to do right by these girls who were trapped in a life they did not want eased all of the rest and made it possible for her to carry on to meet Hezrou.
True to her word, Yuki was already there waiting when Hezrou arrived with the rescued girls. Fear mingled with hope in each of the girls the Miqo'te had collected. Could this really be it? Were they getting out? Could they go home? See their families again? Well, those who hadn't been sold into this life by their families that is... Seeing them all there, standing side by side, holding one another was damn near enough to bring the healer to tears, but she held them back. For the first time in years, Yuki crossed the distance to willingly offer physical contact to another, wrapping an arm around one of the younger victims of Miyazaki's cruelty.
"There is a back alley we can take them down, but I saw a guard wander close as I made my way here... With this many of us, we are bound to draw his attention. It is the safest way but... Still not without risk."
Hezrou watched in quiet awe as she willingly touched one of the girls and begun to comfort them as they started to go to her side. He couldn't help the small smile cross his lips to see it. Without a word he went back, gripping his sword's sheath and begun to run back before anyone grew suspicious of him. "I'm going to hide for the ambush. I'm going silent for a while. I'll leave the girls up to you." He said over the com after a minute or two.
Getting back inside the numbers were still very thin. Good. He quietly went down the halls and had no idea where his room could be. All the hallways looked the same. Looking in each would just look suspicious. After a while he managed to find a solo guard and approached him. He bowed his head in greeting. "Excuse me, brother...I'm new and I haven't quite learned the lay of the castle." He remained low as if he was deeply apologetic for interrupting this man's time. "Lord Miyazaki sent me back here to retrieve something of his from his room but I don't remember where it is...I was too afraid to ask him." His hand was still tight around the sheath of his sword, ready to attack him should this risky move fail. He would kill him anyway after.
Yuki did not hesitate to nod in understanding as she took over the shepherding of the girls. It took her some bit to get them to accept and recognize that the man who had been their golden ticket out of the brothel, was now leaving them in the care of this little waif of a woman. What was she supposed to be able to do to keep them safe? And just what would happen if they were caught out like this? For a moment it was easy to see the collective thought of taking the easy route and returning to the brothel. After all, better to deal with the devil you know than the devil you don't...
Something soft and low was whispered, a quiet internal exchange between the women of Kugane and sentiments shifted. Once more the gaggle of women grouped around one another, becoming the strength and shelter of the woman next to them. Slowly Yuki set off with them, keeping a sharp eye out for the guard she already knew would give them grief...
Meanwhile, back in the winding maze of the Brothel....
The guard arched a brow as he stared at this supposed 'new' member. A hard stare sized Hezrou up before he grunted and took a single step forward in an effort to intimidate the Miqo'te. "Yer new and they've already got you here..."
The corner of his upper lip lifted and he leaned down as if he could scent the lie on the trespasser or perhaps it was another scent entire that caught his attention... He was wearing Yukihana's make up still...
Suddenly, the guard gave a great belly-laugh. "Already been dipping your hand in the Lord's honey pot have you?" A heavy hand came down in the attempt to pat Hezrou on the shoulder. "Word of advice, keep your mind on the job and your head out from between the trick's legs and you might actually start to remember what you're told." Another leering grin was given. What a creep.
"The Lord's chambers are on the upper floor, boy. Best scamper off now..." As they went, Yukihana was right to run into some sort of snag in their plan. A pair of guards were on their way to the back way to make sure nothing weird was going on, having caught some strange events in the past between a brothel girl and a stray guard. Or the occasional napping one, only to see a dozen young women and a Raen between them. They were a bit shocked before they drew their weapons.
"Hey! What in Kami's name is going on here?!" One hissed. "Plannin' an escape, eh?" The other chuckled, smirking disgustingly. "Ye' ought to know what the boss'll do to you when you flee!" The girls were already showing fear that they were spotted. They didn't even know if Yukihana could even take them. They didn't even want to see her get hurt. The two guards begun to creep ever closer to them, hoping to get close enough to grab them or herd them back like the cattle they treated them.
Hezrou tensed a bit when he heard him get closer. His grip was tight on the sheath, just in case but before he could finish that thought to strike him, his nearly jerked muscle was halted when the man suddenly burst into laughter. He was surprised by this and sat up to look up at the larger man, just in time for the large hand to pat his shoulder. Then it hit him. The make up on his face! Oh, how he could hug Yukihana right now for the unintentional save of his ass right now. He played along, starting to laugh with him a moment before adding to that lie and playing along. "I couldn't help myself! Don't tell the boss?" He chuckled. He hated this man. Such a creep. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you!" He bowed his head again. He started to run off and then went quiet when he rounded the corner as if he had indeed taken off for the stairs. However, he merely took the slippers off so his footsteps were silent as he moved back to him, slipping a door open quietly behind him before wrapping his katana's hilt tightly around  the man's neck and jerking him back into the opened room.
It was quick. Once he was in the room he pressed his knee into the man's back and pulled hard to cut the man's breathing with the weapon pressed hard into his neck. He  was a large man, and he was small. Hiding into the blind spots of his back was all it took to keep him from being taken down. It only took seconds for the oxygen loss to knock the man out. Standing over the man Hezrou narrowed his eyes. Dragging his body to a closet he shoved the man in before stepping back a moment to draw his sword slowly from it's sheath. "May your Kami have mercy on you." He hissed under his breath and plunged the sword through he man's throat to end his life. He used the man's kimono to wipe the blade clean and he sheathed it just as slowly to not be loud and shut the sliders. He even piled a few of the boxes in the room against the blood he knew would pool under the door for at least a little while before leaving.
He headed upstairs and found the Lord's chambers. It disgusted him how lavishly this man lived while enslaving so many women. Looking around, he would find a place to hide to ambush the man when he'd return.
She should have known it was all going too easy for this all to work. Why did she even think they could manage this? That she could manage this...? Her eyes were wide as she began to back away from the approaching guards. Both arms reached out to protectively shield all the women behind her. "You should... just let us go. Let us go and the others will not come for you," Yukihana bluffed. Even as she spoke, her mind ran down the list of spells she could use to keep true to her vows while still keeping herself and the others safe.
The Lord's chambers were a lavish display of his power and wealth. Decorated in deep crimson, brilliant golds and the darkest of blacks, every bit of furniture was plush and screamed of vast expense. Silk covered the tables, the bedding, and even the walls. Mixed in with the typical weapon or sculpture were smaller trophies, ones far more intimate and personal. A good deal of these lesser keepsakes had quite likely come from the women currently in Yukihana's care.
There were several pillars used throughout the room to break up living space from work space from.... pleasure space. Each pillar was easily wide enough to provide some cover for Hezrou to hide behind. A few screen partitions also sat about, though they were thin and could potentially reveal shadows if the lights in the room were brightened at all.
They both laughed. She looked so terrified. "What are ye' talkin' about, missy..." The guard grinned. "I bet you ladies worked together to try and run off." The other added. "You can't fool us!" They even tauntingly poked their spears out at the girls, making some of them jerk back in fear before attempting the same at Yukihana.
It was clear these two were just harassing thugs. They all were. They liked seeing women beneath them and trembling in fear. "When we're done getting you girls back where you belong we'll figure out who the ringleader is in your little lot of whores and make her pay! Maybe the boss'll enjoy reminding you not to act out next time." They taunted sickeningly. "He loves his girls when they need to be punished!"
Hezrou looked about the room quietly before going to the back of the room and pressing his back to one of the pillars away from the door. He'd wait as long as it took to kill him. He reached up to respond to Yukihana. "I'm in his office...I hope things are going well for you." He really hoped everything was clear for her. he was sure things were going to be busy in the next hour or so when the boss would return. He had no idea of her situation.
A hand shot out, sending a burst of boiling hot aetheric energies at their feet. It wasn't close enough to hurt either of them, but certainly enough to make them second guess coming any closer. Or so she hoped. "Back. Off!" Another burst of energy. "Touch any of them again and I swear to you, I will rip out your rib cage and wear it for a vest." Big words from such a small woman. Was she shaking? Certainly looked like it.
Silence was the only answer that came to Hezrou from his partner's end, which was perhaps odd in and of itself. She'd always been certain to respond when he'd spoken.. Now? Nothing, not even static or the frantic sounds of what was going on. It was as if she'd simply vanished.
The walls of the brothel weren't thin, at least not on this level. There was no sound warning of any of the Lord's men moving towards their boss' chambers... No sign that the man himself might well be on his way up with a few new pieces of his more stubborn merchandise. The mouthiest of the new girls always had to be taught their place, reminded who called the shots now.
The guards were caught by surprise at the aether blast before them. They'd never seen anything like it. They were just common folk that never left the city. Those threats of hers didn't even seem all that false now, either. They hesitated, looking at each other a moment. Neither wanted a taste of that. But one finally got ballsy and tried to rush her anyway with a cry.
Hezrou was quiet a moment as he waited on in worry. "Yukihana?" He asked over the com. But when nothing would come again he was worried. Shit. He shouldn't have left her behind. He should of escorted them! He felt like the walls in the room weren't as big as before now. That the air was thicker. That the weight of failure was looming over him now. Did she get caught? Was the boss about to be aware of his presence and capture him? So many thoughts came to mind and before he knew it he had a flashback of his beloved. About how he failed her. That she'd forgotten him after her disappearance and how he should of gone with her on that duty but didn't.
He didn't even feel his own hands trembling. His eyes wide at the realization that he had made a mistake. He didn't even hear the man enter the room with his guards and when there was talking suddenly he tensed and pressed his back hard against he pillars. Fuck. He couldn't abort now! Miyazaki  had observed the girls and had even had his guard bring up at least four of them as they were tied up in ropes to ensure they couldn't escape. "Leave them." He said sharply. "Go outside and keep watch. I got work I need to attend to." He shrugged them off and walked toward his desk. His hand was in the open sleeve of his kimono across his large stomach, holding tightly to the bundle of sticks he was so attached to. In the other hand, he held his nearly used up cigar. Standing in front of his table he set the sticks down, exactly as Akuma's letter described - stacked right on the flat table.
The guards left and he was alone with the girls, who were trying to pull their hands free and whimpering or crying. The overly fat man stared at the sticks a moment before taking the last long drag from the cigar and setting it out in the ash tray on the table and taking up the sticks again. He put them back in his kimono and walked to the girls. He found the most defiant one of the four and grabbed her roughly by her hair, causing her to cry out and try to pull from the man but it was of no use. He grinned wickedly and begun to drag her by her hair towards his little section to have his way with her.
Hezrou glanced over his shoulder around the corner to the scene, horrified when he grabbed the young Domen girl by her hair and begun to forcefully drag her towards the bed that he knew bedded many drugged young women.
Rage boiled in Hezrou's chest. So much that he couldn't bare it. He had to find Yukihana. But he had to kill this bastard! Taking this chance, he rushed forward and with a flick of his thumb he pushed the blade up a bit from the sheath, gripping the hilt so tight with the other hand that his claws dug into his palms and his knuckles were white.
Tsutomu heard heavy footfalls suddenly and with a audible hum he turned while reaching into his sash with the other hand just in time to come eye-to-eye with a angry Miqo'te, feeling a blade sink into his large gullet. The man cried out, blood coming up from his throat and flecks of it spraying across Hezrou's face. But the Miqo'te didn't even flinch. There was a loud metallic click between them and a bang, but Hezrou didn't even hear it. All he heard was a loud ringing in his ears from all the adrenaline and hatred he felt for this man. The sword was clean through the man's stomach, poking out of his back and blood pouring from the wound.
Shocked that the Miqo'te didn't even flinch, knowing full well that the pistol in his hand was pressed against the attacker's stomach made Tsutomu speechless. He just made small pained sounds before his trembling hand dropped the gun and the pain begun to take over. "W-Why you...!" Miyazaki struggled to say as more blood dribbled from his mouth. "Rot in hell." Hezrou hissed and twisted the blade, pressing it so the hilt dug against the man before pushing it out the side and spraying blood across the bed and floor as the blade tore through flesh and sliced right through the man's abdomen. With a garbled cry of pain the fat man collapsed backwards, the girls screaming in horror at what just happened. Hezrou could barely breathe. The man's odor was indeed unbearable. But the smell of blood made it a bit more bearable. He put the blade to his inner arm and cleaned the blade on the uniform before sheathing it. With labored breaths from his anger and the foul odor he looked to the girls. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to save you..." He said, trying to quiet them down.
They were too petrified. The girl that had been grabbed by the now butchered man before them was covered in his blood and panicking the worst. Hezrou was quiet as he stared at them a moment before he took the gun and walked to the door. He knew there were guards waiting, but unsure of how many. He grabbed the handle and flung open the door and quickly exited to shoot the two guards standing nearby. Thankfully no one else was there. The walls were still thick here so no one would of heard the shots, either. He went back into the room and it took him a good few minutes to calm them, kneeling down to them and working to get them ready to leave.
However, it wasn't until he stood that he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. The adrenaline rush of the kill had worn off and he didn't even know he had been shot until now. He looked down and saw just how heavily he was bleeding, mixed in with the blood from stabbing the fat bastard earlier. "Oh, bloody hells..." He mumbled. There was no way he could save these girls now...Not like this. He walked over to Miyazaki and leaned over slowly to pull his kitana from his side and slipped the strap over his shoulder so it hung across his back.
"look...I'll come back for you guys with help." He told them. "The Sekiseigumi will know of this operation...They'll come before morning. I promise..." He breathed. He moved to a window and opened it, climbing out and working his way along the edges of the ledge to escape undetected. The pain made it difficult, and he eventually gave up to open his sash and allow his tail out for better balance.
How could he have forgotten that damned gun. He let his ears out as well and touched the pearl to link again. "Yuki...Please respond. Miyazaki is dead. I'm coming back but...I'm not in a good position right now." He wasn't even sure if she'd even respond.
Triumph flared victorious in her eyes as Yukihana watched the pair second guess their decision to mess with her and the girls she was determined to save. Up came her chin as she tried her best to not let the remnants of her fear show. She'd done it, shown the bastards she wasn't one to be toyed with.... Or so she had thought. The instant the foolish one dared to rush her, she realized just how foolish she'd been to even try. Her response was one of pure survival instinct, but one that would come back to haunt her nightmares later.
A flash of aether snapped from her fingertips and suddenly the attacker went down as blood gushed from both his nose and the corner of his mouth. "Bitch!" He shouted as he struggled to rise and lunge again while his partner looked on in horror. Both of his hands rose  as if to wipe debris from his eyes but nothing came away. "I can't see! My eyes!" Back down on his knees he went while clawing furiously at his head. The more timid of the two guards looked up to Yukihana with fear in his eyes as he slowly began to back away before turning on a heel and all but fleeing the scene, leaving his partner at Yukihana's mercy.
"Go," Yuki managed to whisper to the girls in her shocked state. "We have to go..." Her hands turned to gesture them down the alley, though her hands remained locked on the whimpering man who had now curled into a sobbing ball on the ground. The same girl that Yuki had comforted earlier now reached to wrap her own shaking arm about the woman who was meant to save her.
"Lead us out of here, my Lady," she offered a gentle reminder to which Yukihana could merely nod. Slowly she turned to steer the group down the escape route she'd planned for them. They moved more slowly now as the entire group was frightened beyond belief. What if there were more guards? What if they were caught... What if? What if? It was all they could think.
Before Yuki could get too far gone in her own head Hezrou's voice broke through the silence to save her from her own fears. "Lord Hezrou? I.. I... Where are you? Are you hurt? Surrounded? What should I do?"
There was a moment's pause from the com before Hezrou's voice responded. "I'm coming down from the rooftops...eventually." He sounded short on breath. In pain. "The mission is complete...but not without mistakes." He slowly worked his way down the side of the building, and nearly lost his footing at least twice along the way. He grabbed onto a ledge of a nearby building and begun to climb himself up, even crying out when doing so out of sheer pain of tensing his body to pull himself up. He groaned in pain and held a hand to the wound in his stomach once he was up. "I-I...I will need your assistance once I arrive." He whispered. "Are the girls safe?"
He slowly got to his feet and made his way back to the alleyway where he left his clothing. He switched out from the guard's attire and used the sash from it to wrap his wound as tightly as he could. Just to keep the blood out of sight so he could leave. The white kimono was a bad idea...At least the second wrap helped the first under it with the blood. He made his way out of the district but by the time he made it to the more safer parts of Kugane his vision was already starting to cross over and unfocused. "We need...to gather our things and leave tonight. With the girls..."
"Just... be careful. I left one in the alley, but he should not be able to see you.. Not yet, anyways. I will see to you as soon as you arrive.. I... Just make sure you get here, alright?" The worry was evident in the strain of her voice, mingling with the fear that still burned bright within. "The girls are all still with me. We are... whole." It was the easiest way she could answer the question without causing him more concern.
"We will, as soon as I have seen to you and your injuries, I will venture out and see to the arrangements for a ship out of here. Just get yourself here." As she spoke, she continued to shepherd the girls towards the inn, keeping a sharp eye out for further trouble along the way. Once they arrived, the Raen rushed to slide the window open so the girls could climb in one by one, with her climbing through last. The little inn room was full to bursting with women as Yuki raised a finger to her lips to keep them all quiet.
"Right..." Hezrou acknowledged and made his way to the inn. By the time he got there, though, he was surprised he was conscious at all. He climbed in and collapsed into the room. His strength had given out on him knowing now that he was mostly safe. There was a tinge of crimson pushing up from the sash tied tightly around his waist. His ears were pressed back and his face didn't hide his pain. There was sweat on his brow and his breaths were labored. The sword from their target rested against his back.
Yuki stood by the window anxiously awaiting the Miqo'te's arrival. Her hands were swift to reach out to help him through the window, offering aid without fear for contact... At least for now. "I have you, just breathe, Lord Hezrou." The girls of the room seemed to step back as one, the show and horror obvious upon their varied features.
Yuki's hands looped under his and she began to drag him back towards the little infirmary she'd set up earlier. For one so small her adrenaline gave her a surprising amount of strength to be capable of such. "Help me get him onto the bed," she said to no one girl in particular. Two stepped forward at her call, lifting the man's legs and helping to slide him onto the bedding. No time was wasted in offering the male privacy from the watchful eyes of the women they had saved, for her hands made swift work of the garments that hid the wound from her eyes. Unable to help herself, a soft gasp sounded at the sight of the wound but that was all. From that second on, the woman was nothing but a confident, skilled mender.
A small metal bowl was filled with clean water poured from a marked canteen followed by no more than three drops of a clear, soft blue liquid. With a delicate hand she slipped a cleansing cloth into the water and worked to clean away the blood and gore so that she might get a better look at the wound itself.
Wherever the cloth touched his skin came a cold, tingling sensation that worked to ease the pain. Once this was done, the Raen leaned forward and carefully inspect the gunshot wound to ensure none of the man's vital organs had been hit.
Hezrou groaned in pain when he was lifted onto a bed but he remained still as Yuki worked. Luckily for him, he might as well had been blessed. At such a close range it barely missed his organs, the bullet just merely lodged in a muscle past the organs. He focused on her word, having tried to settle his breathing. He's had worse wounds before, but it still hurt like hell. "I was careless..." He strained out as she worked. "I was...reckless." It was the best way he could describe what he did to that man. He knew of the gun, but he was so twisted with anger that it didn't matter to him.
"It is fine, you are going to be fine. Do not worry, I have you now," she murmured softly to reassure the man. "Just keep breathing for me and I shall do the rest." A potion was grabbed from the table and lifted to his lips. "Drink this and it will ease the pain." Patiently she waited until he had drank the vial dry before moving to set it aside so that she could turn her attention back to the task at hand. The potion should work quickly, dulling Hezrou's senses and providing a rather nice floating sensation.
Her movements were gentle but firm and she moved with the full confidence who had handled far worse wounds than this. Sterile gauze was pressed into the hands of one of the girls who was then directed to keep the field of surgery clean and clear. Rather than lifting so much as an instrument, Yukihana moved her hand to hover over the entry sight. Eyes fluttered to a close as, with a few softly mumbled incantations, aether began to dance around her fingertips.
Delicate and of lavender coloring, the tendrils of energy seemed eager to be guided by the gentle movements of the healers fingers. Slowly, she shifted her fingers about as if she were a puppeteer, leading the energies down into the damaged muscle where the bullet now resided.
With a curl her wrist, the energies worked to envelope the bullet so that she could oh so gently guide it free of the muscle and damaged flesh. Each motion she made was slow and steady, painfully deliberate. It felt like a lifetime that she stood at Hezrou's bedside and worked but Yuki was well aware of just what it took to ensure the Miqo'te came out of this whole. A faint sheen of sweat appeared on her forehead as she watched the bullet appear and then exit in the reverse. It wasn't until the bullet was free and dropped into a tin that the Raen dared to breathe easily.
Blood bubbled immediately from the wound as the bullet came free and the girl aiding her, damn near set herself into a panic. "Lady, lady!" At least she had the sense to apply pressure with the gauze she'd been given.
"Shh. All is perfectly fine. Just breathe." Her voice was so soft, so soothing...
One might have thought it was a sort of magic all its own. The girls could only nod and watch as she worked to save Hezrou. More aether swirled about her fingertips, answering her summons without fail. This time the full brunt of the spell was directed towards the male. Those delicate tendrils danced forth, seeping into the wound and slowly knitting the injury closed from the inside out. First the damaged muscle and vein, then the layers of skin. Full attention was paid to every last detail of her work, not a thing was missed.
If Hezrou had managed to hold consciousness throughout the ordeal, there was one more aspect of her healing that was meant to provide the man some additional manner of comfort - she hummed. Her voice was just as soft and sweet as it so often was when she spoke, but the way she hummed her lullaby was almost tender. The melody would continue on as she moved to place bandages over the freshly mended skin, stopping only once she stepped to view her work.
Lifting a cloth from the table, Yuki gently wiped away any lingering sweat from Hezrou's brow as she spoke softly. "Hezrou? Still with me?"
Throughout it all, Hezrou did slip in and out of consciousness. He had lost a fair amount of blood on the way back and it was hard to focus. But he kept his breathing as steady as he could, if taking sharp inhales on rare occasion when the pain grew too much. He even gripped the sheets he laid upon at some point with a grasp that made his knuckles white and tremble slightly before releasing just as quickly.
The potion helped greatly, leaving him like he was barely floating on the surface of a lake, but the pain made him almost sink into it's depths. As the wound was being healed, he felt that pain stop tugging at his senses and he begun to relax as it begun to slowly be over. He would of nearly drifted into unconsciousness had her voice not broken the silence. "Yes..." He whispered back. "If barely..." He smiled tiredly. His vision was all but color now. Odd shapes and colors. He couldn't focus for a bit. "Just tired now. Thank you." He held his hand up, as if to try and reach for her but he couldn't see where she was. So it just lingered there. His ears were in a lax position, his tail just limp off the side of the table. "Was it bad?" He asked. "I smell a fair amount of blood..."
Her lips curved in a small smile of relief as he spoke back to her. By the twelve, that had been nearly as terrifying as facing down the two guards outside. "You came through with flying colors," she murmured as she sat the cloth down.
"There was...  It was bad and you did lose a lot of blood, yes. He did not hit an artery, so I believe it was all of the adrenaline mixed with your moving around to get here. I do not... I do not think moving you immediately would be wise."
When he lifted his hand up for her, she raised her hand and gently took his in hers to offer comfort. "I think, with it being so close to dawn now, they would not dare to come after us this far from their own turf. It would be too great of a risk for the Sekiseigumi to be called."
"I...couldn't save the four girls that bastard had brought in..." Hezrou said softly. "Not with this injury. The Sekiseigumi...I'll plant the bread crumbs for them." He smiled a bit. "I'll get the other girls free. Somehow..." He closed his eyes, his smile laxing after that. "We'll rest I suppose. It's your turn to cleanse the of their poisons. Then...all we need then is to escape. Before they hunt us down."  He was concerned if he had left a trail of blood on the way. He had hoped the double sash around him kept the blood from going on the floor to mask his trail. "I'll inform...Akuma that we killed him. After I rest a bit."
"I will handle all of it while you rest. The Sekiseigumi will not permit such to stand if they can find proof. Sleep now and let me handle the girls and all the rest." Her thumb brushed gently over the back of his palm before she gently laid his hand down at his side and she slipped back to permit him rest and herself space.
Without further ado she quietly moved about the room with a small bit of paper, taking down the girls names and making a list of any ailments that she could possibly treat with the supplies she'd brought. In no time at all she had the inn room working as a near silent makeshift clinic so as to not disturb his rest. From time to time she hovered back close to monitor his vitals and check the bandages, but for the most part she permitted him to do precisely as he needed - rest.
Hezrou had been asleep for most of the day. Not moving an inch safe for a rare instance of shift. His tail begun to show more life as the day went on, often twitching along with his ears while he dreamed, much like an animal's ears would. Even long after she had finished, he was resting. He woke a bit before the evening and slowly sat up. He almost forgot where he was until he remembered what had happened and quickly shot his hand back to feel the blade still pressed against his back. He sighed in relief and looked about the room. The girls were calmer now and sitting throughout the room. Chatting quietly between each other or resting. At least two were reading.
He smiled a little and looked towards Yukihana. "Morning." He said, well aware that it was not the case at all. "How are things? What else do we need to do?" He wasn't sure what happened after he got back to the Inn. Much of it was a blur now. He looked down at his stomach and was glad there wasn't anything left of the wound.
True to her word, Yukihana had been a busy little thing in the later hours that he had rested. A few trips had been made out the window to gather food, fresh clothing for the girls, and make the arrangements as she had promised.
Scattered throughout the room on nearly every surface was small containers of food - a variety of rices, meats, cheeses, and breads. There were pasta and ramen boxes, even a few containers that might well have contained soups. The Raen had to have made at least three trips out to have carried back that much food.
Each girl sat now in attire that they could be comfortable moving throughout the city in and all of their old 'clothing' had been disposed of somewhere or another. Writing utensils still lay upon the desk from where she'd written the anonymous tip to the Sekiseigumi. Alongside them lay another envelope, this one marked with the stamp of the port authority.
Hezrou's smile was met with one of her own as she looked over from where she'd been sitting on the opposite side of the bed. "Good evening," she replied with a wry smile. "All we have left to do is to get your bandages changed, get you into your new clothing, clean up our mess and head to the docks. Oh, and inform Akuma, of course. You performed the actual... task. So, I thought you deserved to be the one to inform him. Everything else is done, just as I promised."
Hezrou chuckled softly. "We both performed the task." He corrected. "As he said...He needed a delicate hand as well as a rough one. You handled the delicate tasks exceptionally well. I would of never been able to do it. And I performed the dirty work. We both pulled each other through." He stood up and stretched a little, if a bit gentle for the remainder of his injury. "I'm going to shower real fast so wipe off this make up and whatever else stinking me up." He knew he still had blood on his face from butchering that man. "Oh, speaking of make up...it saved my ass back there. Let me tell you!" He laughed a bit, heading for the bathroom.
He took a quick shower, washing the most vital areas and cleaning the blood away. He washed his face a bit to make sure all the make up was removed and missed his tattoos. Drying off, he had a towel around his waist as he went out just briefly to grab the new gear she had gotten and went back inside the bathroom. Some of the girls did giggle at what they saw and made cute little comments before quieting down again when he'd come back out fully dressed for the exception of his top. He took the bandages and offered them out towards her. "Do the honors of redressing the wound?" He smiled. "You'll do a better job than me." He sat down on the bed. He had lost his blindfold during his escape when he ditched the hat to keep his balance...so he knew he'd have to expose his scar to the rest of the syndicate. No matter...He'd live.
Ever the worrywart, Yuki's eyes flew to the bandage as the man stretched, watching to ensure that her work didn't come undone. Even magic wasn't without it's limits, after all. "Careful," she said gently before raising her gaze to meet his. "If you say we both did, then we did but you did the worst of it. Even if you had to do it with make up on your face. When you are out you will have to explain that one."
While he showered, Yuki and the girls gathered up the remaining items floating around the room, even going so far as to strip the soiled linens and replace them with fresh ones the Raen had picked up while she was out. By the time he reappeared Yuki was on her hands and knees pulling free the coins she'd hidden the night before so that they could be returned to the rest of the funds they'd been given. The giggling of the other girls drew her attention, leaving her peeking over the top of the bed at Hezrou for a moment before she flushed a faint shade of pink and vanished once more.
Once he was actually dressed and out in the room once more, Yuki stood and took the bandages by the tips of her fingers. "Hopefully, but you let me worry about that, hmm?" A salve was pulled from her bag and spread over the area before she positioned the embroidered bandages and tied them off. "How is that? Not too tight, I hope?"
"It's fine." Hezrou chuckled. "You worry so much." He added in as he watched her bandage the wound. When she would finish he'd finally put on the kimono top and tied the sash around his waste a bit more loosely so it wouldn't irritate the wound or bandages any. "When we get to the ship i'll inform Akuma of the status."
"Worrying is part of the job description," she said lightly as she stepped back and moved to toss her bag over her shoulder. Once he was fully ready to go, Yuki turned to the girls and offered a warm smile. "It is all almost over. One final step and you are all free of this nightmare. Keep your eyes peeled as we make our way to the docks, but try not to look suspicious."
Most of the girls nodded at her words, while a few seemed a bit too scared at the prospect of leaving this safe haven to do much more than stare at the pair who had rescued them. One by one they climbed through the window and stood watch for the others to follow. Yuki was the last one out the window, ensuring Hezrou was able to make it through without upsetting his injury.
Stepping to the front of the group, Yuki guided the group through the back alleys down to the docks. From there she went to second to last slip before passing the envelope with the port authority's stamp over to a rather burly man waiting at the end of the gangplank. The man eyed the group suspiciously before grunting. "Rather large family ye got there, lass."
Yuki merely shrugged a shoulder and waved for the others to begin moving up the gangplank. Like a mother hen, she ensured all were settled into one of the three cabins she'd secured below decks before she found a place to collapse into for rest. All they had left was three days on the sea. They could make it now and so they would.
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submeowchinegun · 7 years
Text
Maul isn't a Sith, but gets mistaken for one by the Jedi.
Maul nearly slid around the corner, the motion throwing up dust as he expertly wove through the crowd. It was a few hours before midday, the busiest time of day at this market, making quick passage through it almost impossible. One look at his grim expression, however, sent the people on the edge of the crowd scrambling out of his way, and those further in followed. The space created for him closed almost as soon as he'd left it. He heard the frustrated cries of his pursuers as they failed to elicit a similar reaction, leaving them to try and push their way past the unwilling and protesting locals. Now assured of his escape, he cut through a nearly hidden space between two buildings, starting the walk back to his ship.
This was the third time in as many weeks that someone had chased him for, as far as he could tell, no reason. The first time he'd shrugged off; he'd been on a job at the time, and it wouldn't be the first time someone had decided to screw over their boss and try to steal cargo. They'd found him as he was going back to his ship, and thanks to the fortuitous overturning of some hovercarts, he'd had enough time to slip into his ship and take off. He hadn't recognized the man, and paid little mind to his oddly Jedi-like clothing, more concerned with the clearly aggressive intent he was approaching with.
The second time it happened, he'd been haggling for parts. He'd just used the last of his spares to repair his engine after he'd landed, and made a habit of always having spare parts for at least the bare essentials. Business conducted, he'd arranged to have the parts delivered to his ship, and turned to leave. On the way out, he'd nearly run over a teenager, who'd frozen, gaping at him. Maul had barely paused to give their now ashen face a glance. Even as close to the Outer Rim as this planet was, younglings tended to react that way to the combination of his stark markings and perpetually severe expression. As soon as he'd turned away, they'd sprinted in the opposite direction, calling out to someone down the street.
At the noise he'd stopped and looked back, along with a few other pedestrians. There at the corner, the youngling stood next to what seemed to be a Jedi, based on the robes and saber hilt at her belt, pointing back in Maul's direction. Maul suddenly remembered the incident a little over a week ago, with a similarly robed figure.
Ah, Maul had thought to himself, That's probably not good. The woman with the saber followed the youngling's pointed finger to look at him. Maul kept his expression neutral as they met eyes, and her expression turned surprised, before it hardened into determination. Still only half-turned, Maul's feet had shifted ever so slightly, and before the woman could take a complete step Maul was gone. The distance between them had worked in his favor, and after a short chase, he'd felt he had lost her thoroughly enough to return to his ship. He'd wasted enough time loosing the woman that his parts had been delivered, and after loading them into his cargo bay he immediately took his ship into orbit.
The first thing he'd done was check the bounty boards. It was entirely possible (though honestly unlikely if he actually thought about it) that he happened to match the description of a bounty enough to be targeted. It was even possible that he'd offended someone with sufficient credits enough to warrant a grudge. After a thorough search, however, he'd come up with nothing. He'd briefly entertained the idea that they actually were Jedi, but it was quickly dismissed. He kept to himself for the most part, and he hadn't done anything to warrant attention from a group of mystical weirdos. With a sigh, he'd massaged his tired eyes, then set the hyperdrive coordinates for his next cargo drop-off, and dismissed the entire situation as some ridiculous cosmic fluke.
Now, on the other hand, he no longer had the luxury of writing things off. The two people chasing him had almost definitely been Jedi, and when they'd seen him they had not at all looked like they were in the mood for talking. Upon spotting him, one of them had even drawn his stars damned lightsaber! In the middle of a crowded market! If this was indicative of the Jedi on a broader scale, Maul's neutral opinion of them was swiftly turning into a bad one. He'd frozen at the time, and there were a few seconds of complete silence, before noise exploded around them, the crowd shouting and scrambling away once they realized what was happening. To be fair, the other one seemed to be just as surprised by the sudden saber ignition as Maul, and as they stepped forward to say something, Maul ran. He'd heard a pair of curses, and the whoosh of a lightsaber extinguishing as the Jedi gave chase.
Maul arrived back at the hanger where his ship was docked, and boarded the Delaya-class courier immediately. As he went through the departure procedures, his hearts still pounded with adrenaline. Why the hell were these Jedi after him? His mind raced as he absently made a short jump to the nearest system; he'd actually been at the market for a reason, that being he was getting low on supplies, and while he did have rations for emergencies, they were far from pleasant. He docked at one of the moon's smaller space ports, and slumped in his seat, exhausted now that the adrenaline was wearing off. After a few minutes of this, his pushed himself up, and left the cockpit. Those supplies weren't going to buy themselves.
/////////////////////////
Two weeks had passed since his last run-in with any Jedi. As Maul threw his cloak around his shoulders, he paused and looked at the saberstaff sitting on his shelf. He'd found it a little over a week ago, when he was digging through a scrap yard in search of a specific, but difficult to find, part. It was battered, and wouldn't ignite, but he'd felt a strange pull towards it, and had thrown it onto his small pile of selected scrap. After some tinkering, it had shakily sputtered to life, flickering a bit before it stabilized. He'd taken to carrying it with him in rougher towns, and appreciated that it kept people from bothering him, more than his appearance already did. He wasn't too concerned with this port, it was on a planet closer to the Core Worlds than he usually ventured. After another moment of contemplation, he clipped the saberstaff to his belt anyway; if the people chasing him for no reason carried lightsabers, why couldn't he?
Like always, Maul tugged his hood over his head as he walked down his ship's ramp. The Rapier's hatch closed behind him, and he accessed a map of the port on his datapad as he walked out of the hanger. Unfamiliar with this port as he was, it still didn't take him long to find his destination on the map; a mechanics shop that he was supposed to meet his next client at. Following the map, he arrived a few minutes earlier than the meeting was set for, and took the opportunity to observe the street the shop stood on, and the building it was in. Situated about halfway between two intersections,  the shop itself seemed to be in good shape, though it's age was starting to show. The buildings on either side had a similar look, colors faded from the sun's rays.
A device somewhere overhead made a sound as he opened the door, and a bored looking human teenager behind the counter looked up from their datapad. As Maul stepped towards the counter, a ruckus started from somewhere behind the human. Maul and the teenager both looked at the doorway leading to the back room, and a Dug in stained overalls came bustling through it, wiping her dirty hands on a rag.
“Child, how many times have I told you to greet the customers!” she groused, hauling herself up onto a stool behind the counter.
“I didn't get the chance,” they mumbled halfheartedly, looking back at their datapad. The Dug's attention had already turned to Maul, who they looked over with a critical eye. Maul looked back, arms folded.
“You are Jegin Rossuno?” Maul asked.
“Yes,” Jegin answered, squinting to look under his hood. “You're Sathan and Pry's boy then?” Maul nodded, and her posture relaxed ever so slightly.
“Alright, follow me,” Jegin said, hopping off the stool and leading the way to the back room. “Atlin, watch the shop!” she called back to the teenager, who mumbled an incoherent reply, still engrossed in whatever they were looking at. Maul followed Jegin through the doorway, into a large room. The walls were lined with worktables covered in parts and projects, and an overhead door took up most of the back wall. She led him to one of the tables, and after pulling herself up onto another stool there, she opened a drawer, taking a datacard and credit chip from it.
“You get half from me,” she said, handing him the card and chip, ”And the other half when the data is delivered.” Maul took both, nodded, and placed the card in an inner pocket of his tunic. He used his datapad to confirm the balance of the chip, then left back through the front of the shop. As he passed, Atlin paid him no mind, and as the door closed behind him he heard Jegin begin to scold them again.
Maul returned to his ship, and after a brief inventory and some mental calculations, decided he could put off a supply run for now. He settled himself into the pilots seat, and after sending the necessary departure notifications to the port, piloted his ship out of the planet's atmosphere. Once he was far enough out of orbit, he made the first of a few short hyperspace jumps that would take him to the planet his drop-off point was on. Though the jumps were short, they were just long enough for him to settle back and relax before he had to set the next set of coordinates into the nav computer. During one such period, he leaned back and stretched, thinking about the datacard in his pocket.
Like always, there was the brief curiosity over it's contents, which was quickly dismissed. He already knew as much as he needed to about this job, and giving into the temptation of looking at the contents of the datacard would inevitably cause problems down the road. Pushing the thought aside, his mind instead drifted to how he'd come to take this job instead. It wasn't often that either of his mothers sent clients his way, preferring to let him make his own way when it came to his professional life. Maul appreciated this, and was certain that this instance was mainly an excuse to check in on him. Which he couldn't fault them for, since he did much the same to them from time to time. The nature of bounty hunting kept them moving, much like Maul's work did to him, which made regular contact impractical. He had expected a call while he was still planet-side to retrieve the datacard, but the lack of one didn't alarm him.
The Rapier came out of it's final jump, and Maul shoved the last piece of the jerky he'd been eating into his mouth so he could take the controls. The spaceport here was much more active, and he had to pilot around a steady flow of freighters and transports to make it to the docking space he'd paid for in advance. It was a small relief when he settled the ship in it's spot, and he checked his comm for the time; he had about an hour before he had to meet his contact and deliver the chip. It would take at least half of that to get to the location he'd been given, so he secured his ship and started for the exit to the space port. He was almost to the exit of the docking area when he spotted a familiar YT freighter, it's geometric red markings stark against the drab gray plating.
He paused mid step, and before his foot could resume it's journey downward, a pair of thick arms wrapped around his waist, pinning his own arms to his torso. Maul made a strangled sound of alarm, instinctively throwing his head back and aiming a kick in the general direction of his captor's shins. A hissing laugh met his attempt to gore them with his horns as they glanced off armor, and Maul stilled, glancing down at the vermilion arms wrapped around him. He relaxed, and he was set back on his feet, the arms releasing him. He turned around, and before he'd done more than open his mouth to speak, he was being lifted again and crushed face-first against that same armor, though his arms were thankfully free this time.
“Hello, Pry'buir,” Maul's voice was muffled between Pry's armor and his still-hooded head, and he wrapped his own arms around her broad shoulders to return the hug.
“Hey, squirt!” the Trandoshan settled him back on his feet, then leaned down to gently knock her snout against the side of his head. “Did you get smaller since the last time I saw you?” she teased. Maul huffed through his nose, and rolled his eyes as he pushed his head into the gesture, careful of his horns. “No, Pry'buir, you must have gotten bigger,” he said back. She chuckled as she pulled away, taking a step back, and Maul turned to the Zabrak woman standing to Pry's left. The corners of her mouth pulled into a slight frown as she looked him over, the silvery tattoos against her dark skin making the expression more pronounced. The patch of wavy dark hair that grew from the top and crown of her head was pulled back into a thick braid that hung past her shoulders.
“Maul, where is your armor?” Sathan asked. In response, Maul pulled aside his tunic at the neck, revealing the edge of a breastplate. She considered this for a moment, then let her expression relax into a smile. She stepped forward and gave Maul her own hug.
“It's good to see you, ad'ika,” Sathan told him, pressing her cheek to his, a soft rumble in her chest.
“It's good to see you too, Sa'buir,” Maul replied while giving her a soft squeeze, leaning down slightly to press back with a quiet purr of his own. Both of them pulled back, and Maul looked at the time on his comm, frowning; how had it already been 10 minutes? He looked back up at Pry and Sathan to excuse himself, and they both waved him off.
“Go finish your job. It shouldn't take too long, and we're not going anywhere,” Pry told him, Sathan leaning against her with crossed arms. Maul paused, then nodded.
“I'll see you later, buir,” Maul said, righting his cloak as he turned and walked out of the port. He heard quiet, indistinguishable conversation from Sathan and Pry as he left, but paid it no mind. If it was important, his mothers would tell him. Right now, he focused on getting to the drop-off point so that he wouldn't have an angry Dug after him.
//////////////////////////
Maul was late. It was only by 15 minutes, but with this kind of job every minute counted. Usually when he was hired to transport information, it's arrival was time-sensitive. Maul really hoped that whoever he was supposed to meet was still there as he entered the bar. It was the kind of place that had a steady stream of customers no matter the hour, and right now was no different. He settled himself at the bar as per the instructions he'd received, and ordered something he had no intention of actually drinking. The room felt warm, so Maul pulled down the hood of his cloak, receiving instant relief. The feeling was short-lived however, because as soon as it was down, he felt the sinking in his stomach that meant someone was watching him. Maul casually lifted his drink once it arrived, masking his glance behind him by pretending to take a drink.
In a booth nestled into a corner, a human with short reddish hair sat, watching him with narrowed eyes and a coldly reserved expression. A shiver ran down Maul's spine, the look reminding him a bit too much of his Jedi encounters to be comfortable. He quickly glanced around to see if his contact was anywhere, but no one else was paying him any attention. They must have already left. Maul cursed under his breath, standing as he tossed some credits down on the bar top. He'd just have to reschedule the drop, this job was not worth getting run through by some crazy Jedi. Before, he would have thought staying in a crowded place was his safest option, but as had been demonstrated by his last encounter, they didn't seem to care about that.
Rather than going for the door, Maul headed for the 'fresher. With any luck, there'd be a window, and if not, a back entrance. He turned the corner into a hallway, 'fresher doors on one side and another with a lit up 'EXIT' sign at the end. The watched feeling returned, and though a glance over his shoulder revealed nothing, he bypassed the 'fresher doors and went straight for the exit. He heard footsteps behind him as he stepped outside, and threw the door closed behind him as hard as he could, breaking into a sprint out of the back alley. The door made an odd sound as it hit something, and swung back out into the wall of the building with a crash. A split-second later, Maul heard someone running out after him, but he was already rounding the corner, and threw up his hood as he slowed to match pace with the crowd. His pursuer audibly skidded to a halt, most likely to avoid hitting a pedestrian by the sound of the angry Ithorese immediately after.
Maul turned at the street corner, peering out from under his hood at the human from the bar, who was still trying to placate the angry Ithorian he'd almost bowled over. Looking back, Maul noticed the lightsaber poking out from it's hiding place under the man's jacket, which no one else seemed to have seen. Just before he passed out of view, the man's gaze darted in his direction and their eyes met. Then Maul was around the corner, and he hurried back to the port before the Jedi had a chance to follow him. The journey back was significantly faster than it had been leaving, and he bypassed his mothers' ship, the Ge'tal Cabur, instead boarding his own and setting up a long-range comm to Jegin. The screen showed a loading symbol for almost a minute before connecting. Jegin's disgruntled face flashed into view, and she wasted no time tearing into him.
“I just got a comm from your contact!” Maul subtly winced at her tone of voice, his hood thankfully still on and hiding his expression somewhat. “He said that you never showed up, and that some –,“ she waved a hand around, saying something in Dug before continuing, “– some kind of force user, he used an odd word, showed up.” At this she fell silent, waiting expectantly. Maul took a deep, quiet breath through nose. The Jedi must have scared his no-doubt skittish contact off. It soured his mood that this information was apparently being sought by the Jedi, and no one had bothered to tell him.
“Yes, I ran into this force user as well,” Maul smoothly replied. No need to mention that he'd been late. Jegin rubbed the tips of her fingers up the bridge of her nose to her forehead, letting out a tired sigh.
“Well luckily, your contact is willing to try again. Here's the details,” Jegin typed something into the console on her end, and the coordinates for a warehouse near the space port came through on an encrypted file, along with the time, about an hour from now. Maul consulted his mental map of the area, thinking of the quickest route there.
“Just be careful,” Jegin started, “I don't need Pry Arzyn all over me because got you hurt doing a job for me.” Maul gave her a flat, unamused look, and she ended the call, muttering something about 'crazy Trandoshans and their Mandos'. After looking over the file Jegin had sent him once more, Maul rolled his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck, loosening the tension there from his encounter with yet another Jedi. I need to figure out why the Jedi are attacking me on sight, Maul thought. It would have to wait for now though, he wasn't taking any chances with this meeting. He left his ship once more, and before long he had reached the warehouse Jegin had specified. He had a good half hour left, and took the time to check the immediate area, as well as the interior of the warehouse. There were no workers, and none of the doors were secured. He couldn't find a company logo on the exterior, or any of the storage crates inside, but aside from that there wasn't anything out of place.
Must belong to one of  Jegin's contacts, Maul thought, Or maybe whoever wants this datacard. All of this had taken most of the time he had left, so he leaned against a crate with a good view of the entrance. He patted the saberstaff on his belt for reassurance, and took a moment to check that his blaster was in it's proper place, then settled in to wait. It didn't take long before he heard someone walking around outside, doing much the same thing he'd done earlier. They circled the building a few times, albeit more quietly than most people would be able to hear. The crate he was leaning against was shadowed and to the side of the entrance, and along with his dark cloak and clothes, Maul knew he was hard to pick out of the dim interior of the warehouse, despite the fact that it was only a little after midday. Then the door opened with a creak, light spilling in around a figure, and Maul tensed.
The initial glare of the sunlight around them faded as Maul's eyes adjusted, and the Jedi from the bar stepped inside. He scanned the room, and his eyes widened when they landed on Maul. It only took another second for his expression to smooth out, and as his hand reached back to grab his saber, his stance widened easily into a battle-ready pose. Maul slowly straightened, uncrossing his arms without taking his eyes off the Jedi. At this point, he was more than a little annoyed, and a sneer worked it's way onto his face as they stared each other down. Neither of them moved for a long minute; the Jedi's face unreadable, and Maul wondering if he had enough time to lead him away, then come back to make the exchange. What should have been a quick and simple job had swiftly turned into a whole barrel of trouble, one that Maul had been unwilling and unprepared to deal with.
Something must have set the Jedi off, because suddenly he leapt forward, lightsaber ignited and casting a blue tinge on the area around it. Maul barely managed to grab his saberstaff and bring one ignited end up to block the strike. The balance of the weapon felt off in his hands, so different from the curved beskad Sathan had taught him to fight with. He abruptly pushed his blade back against the Jedi's with the same strength he would have used against Pry, and the man stumbled back to regain his footing, looking surprised at the force of the blow. Maul quickly moved forward so he wasn't pinned back against the stacked crates, and began to slowly circle his opponent. If he timed this right, he could make a run for the door, and lead the Jedi on a merry chase through back alleys. He should be able to lose him, and hopefully his contact would be here when he got back.
The Jedi seemed to take the bait, mirroring his movements to maintain the space between them. Maul was almost close enough to the still open door to make a run for it when the other man raised a hand, brow furrowing in concentration. Behind Maul, metal creaked as a stack of crates came toppling over, and he dove out of the way, using his saber to cut a crate that still fell too close. Doing this pulled his attention from the Jedi however, and Maul had to ignite the other end of his saberstaff to block another strike. Off-balance, Maul tried to rise from where he'd fallen to one knee, but the Jedi was hitting his stride, his blows precise and confident. Maul's hood had fallen off during his dive, and he hissed as a slash almost took the tip off of one horn.
“I won't allow you to steal the datacard,” the Jedi announced, Coruscanti accent dark with determination. Maul's surprise made him fumble, and he grimaced as he received a minor burn on his arm, but still managed to push the man back enough so that he could stand. The next strike locked their sabers briefly, and Maul narrowed his eyes at him through the purplish light created by the meeting of their red and blue blades.
“Isn't that what you're trying to do?” Maul growled at him, and then their sabers were free, both of them stepping back to circle each other again. Maul passed the door without a thought, too focused on what the Jedi would say. The man had a puzzled expression now, but he didn't lower his lightsaber from it's ready position.
“No,” the Jedi began, “I'm here to receive important information for the Republic. And I'm sorry to disappoint, but you won't be getting it,” he finished, a corner of his mouth lifting into a taunting smirk. Maul abruptly stopped, and the Jedi copied him, face going serious once more. You have got to be kidding me, Maul thought as he looked blankly back at the suspicious Jedi, realization dawning. Slowly, with his saberstaff still lit but no longer up and ready, he reached into his inner pocket and pulled out the datacard. He held it up so the man could see it clearly.
“Well, I'm here to deliver important information to the Republic,” Maul deadpanned, and the Jedi's expression morphed into shock. He sputtered for a moment before recovering, raising his saber back up from where it had begun to fall.
“If that's true, then what's the pass phrase?” he demanded. My life is a joke, Maul wants to say, and it's not even a good one.
“The Chancellor could really use a haircut,” he said instead, in the same monotone as before. The Jedi gaped at him, sputtering again as Maul extinguished his saberstaff and clipped it to his belt.
“But – why are you helping the Republic?” The Jedi asked, his own lightsaber now lowered and extinguished as well.
“Because I was hired to,” Maul enunciated slowly, as if he was speaking to a child. The Jedi's face flushed and he scowled at Maul.
“But you're a Sith!” the man exclaimed. What, Maul thought.
“What,” Maul said, nonplussed.
“You're a Sith,” the Jedi repeated, seeming a little unsure of himself now at Maul's reaction.
“What in the blazes makes you think I'm a Sith?” Maul demanded. The Jedi was taken aback, but quickly recovered.
“Well, just look at you,” and he gestured to Maul's entire person.
“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Maul narrowed his eyes, voice taking on a dangerous edge. The Jedi scrambled to clarify at the sound.
“I mean your clothes! No one dresses like that!” he insisted.
“Firstly,” Maul practically hissed and held up his index finger, “I dress like this, and secondly, I don't want to hear anything about my clothing choices from some Jetii who can't even throw together a decent plain-clothes disguise.” The Jedi's face twisted into an offended expression, and he looked between Maul and his own oddly-matched clothing rapidly a few times before shaking his head.
“What about your lightsaber?” he said instead of replying, and Maul's hand subconsciously went to it where it was on his belt.
“I found it broken in a junkyard. I don't think I need to tell you how useful having one is,” Maul replied, voice back to it's regular, even tone. The Jedi seemed to be at a momentary loss, and didn't say anything for a minute.
“Well, what about your eyes? They're bright yellow!” he finally said, this time pointing an accusing finger at Maul. Maul stared at him with an incredulous frown.
“That's just what color my eyes are, you ass, are you –,” he growled, then cut himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose while he heaved an aggravated sigh. “Look,” he started again, “As much as I would love to stand around and debate with you about whether or not I'm a Sith,” he paused briefly to give the other man a withering glare, “I'd rather be doing literally anything else. So if we could just make this exchange like I'm being paid to do, I have other things to do today.” The Jedi seemed chastened, and was visibly pensive for a moment. Finally, he clipped his saber to it's place on his belt, stepping forward.
“I apologize,” he began, “We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight.” Obi-Wan offered his hand; Maul stared at it, and gave substantial consideration to ignoring the gesture. Then he thought about how he might be able to clear up this whole 'Sith' mess with the rest of the Jedi as well.
“Maul,” he said, stiffly shaking Obi-Wan's outstretched hand.
“Just Maul?” Obi-Wan asked, and received a pointed look. “Alright, fair enough,” he sighed, and released Maul's hand. He crossed his arms and studied Maul with a tilt to his head, and Maul got the distinct impression that Kenobi had forgotten he wasn't in Jedi robes. Maul felt an odd sensation, like static electricity, which made his shoulders twitch upwards as if he'd been shocked; there was a distant, fuzzy feeling in his temples, and he grit his teeth and glared at Obi-Wan. He seemed surprised at the reaction.
“Stop that!” Maul growled at him, and knew that his tattoos made the expression on his face something terrifying. The feeling abruptly ceased.
“You really aren't a Sith, are you?” Obi-Wan said mostly to himself, and adopted a concerned frown. “I'm afraid that the Jedi Order is under the impression that you are a Sith Lord, Maul.” Maul hummed to himself.
“I'd wondered why Jedi were suddenly attacking me on sight,” he replied dryly, and Obi-Wan cleared his throat and averted his eyes briefly.
“I really am sorry about that,” he muttered, straightening his ill-fitting jacket self-consciously, “I'm certain if you spoke to the council, all of this could be cleared up quite easily.”
“So your solution to Jedi attacking me, is to go to the place that has more Jedi in it than anywhere else in the universe?”
“Ah. I see your point,” Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over his chin, mussing the rough beginnings of a beard. “Well, I'll certainly speak to them about this. Though, if you had an escort of some kind –,” he cut himself off as Maul held up the datacard, one tattooed brow raised. “Oh! Yes, of course,” he said, and reached out to take it. Before he could, there was a crash outside the warehouse, followed by a muffled curse. Maul and Obi-Wan both froze, heads turning in the direction of the noise. A glance told Maul that Obi-Wan's hand was back to resting on the lightsaber still on his belt, and his eyes had closed in concentration. Maul tucked the datacard back into his tunic, eyeing the few entrances. He was focused enough that he missed Obi-Wan lunging behind the toppled crates from earlier, a hand wrapped around Maul's upper arm pulling him along. Maul landed with a grunt, as a second later a pair of doors on the far end of the warehouse were kicked in, followed by blasterfire.
Maul pulled himself up into a crouch, drawing his blaster. He chanced a glance over the top of the crates, and managed to count 4 people before he was forced back down to avoid a bolt. Behind him, Obi-Wan took a deep breath. When Maul looked over at him, his eyes widened as he watched Obi-Wan  leap up onto the crates, lightsaber drawn. He began deflecting bolts, and it took Maul a few seconds to process this, before he used the new cover this created to start shooting back. His earlier count was holding up, and he picked off a pair of them while the other two fell to their own deflected bolts. Maul cautiously lowered his blaster, scanning the area, and Obi-Wan jumped down from his perch, saber extinguished once more.
“Not friends of yours, I take it?” Obi-Wan asked. Maul open his mouth to reply, but before he could, his breath was knocked out of him by the blasterbolt that slammed into the center of his chest. He landed hard on his back, and heard a lightsaber ignite a second before another bolt was fired. The crackle of plasma hitting the blade of the saber echoed, followed by the sizzle of burnt clothing and the thud of a body hitting the ground. Then Obi-Wan was leaning over him, a hand on his shoulder.
“Maul! Are you alright?” Obi-Wan demanded, concern coloring his voice. Maul wheezed in reply, clutching the fabric of his tunic where he'd been hit. Obi-Wan pushed his hand away, pulling the fabric of his clothes aside to reveal the scorched and dented metal of Maul's beskar'gam chestplate. Obi-Wan's tense shoulders immediately fell with a sigh of relief, and he sat back on his heels while Maul laid there, trying to catch his breath. Obi-wan helped him sit up, then stand, waiting as Maul took a few deep breaths.
“Just what kind of information is this?” Maul croaked, fixing Obi-Wan with an unamused and faintly pained look. He absently rubbed the impact point on his chest, then straightened his tunic back into place; the fabric around the hole was scorched beyond repair, and Maul mentally lamented the loss of a perfectly good tunic. Obi-Wan considered the question with a conflicted frown.
“Well, I'm not technically supposed to speak to anyone about it, but I feel we're a bit past that,” he said, glancing back at the now five bodies littering the warehouse. “I assume you know of the Naboo Occupation earlier this year?” Maul nodded; it had been covered relentlessly by every major news feed in the galaxy, despite the fact that by the time it had come to light it had already ended. Supposedly the Trade Federation had been behind it all, and the resulting trials were still underway with no end in sight –.
“Oh,” Maul said. That certainly explained things. Obi-Wan nodded, and looked at the still smoking bodies of their attackers with a frown.
“If they managed to follow me here, then there's probably more watching my ship,” he sighed, then looked Maul over with an appraising eye. Maul didn't like that look one bit.
“What would you say to me offering you a job, Maul?” Maul finally straightened completely, taking a few deep breaths before responding.
“I'd say that depends,” he started, “What kind of job?” His voice was better now, almost back to normal. “I'd also say that you still haven't paid me for this,” and dug the datacard out of his tunic. Obi-Wan blinked, taking it from him. Then he pulled out a credit chip, handing it to Maul, who shoved it into his pocket.
“Well, it's most likely that my ship is being watched, or has been sabotaged in some manner. I'd like you to take me back to Coruscant.” Obi-Wan said. Maul considered it for a moment. He usually preferred to have a few days warning when he took jobs transporting people; he always had to mentally prepare for the intrusion on the personal space of his ship for however long the trip was, usually just a few days. To get to Coruscant from here, however, would take something like five.
“And of course, the Republic will be more than happy to compensate you for the trouble. Additionally, I can help you clear up this awful misunderstanding with the Order once we arrive!” at this Obi-Wan gave him a sunny smile, and Maul groaned internally. He'd been looking forward to the chance to spend some time with his mothers, but being able to stop looking over his shoulder for Jedi was (probably) worth it.
“Alright,” Maul said, nodding at Obi-Wan, “Follow me.” Maul led the way back to the dock, and then to his ship. He spared the Ge'tal Cabur a wistful glance as they passed, and Obi-Wan looked curiously at the ship when he noticed Maul's attention to it.
“Someone you know?” he asked.
“Yes,” Maul said, and left it at that.
A few minutes of walking later, they reached the Rapier and boarded. Maul showed Obi-Wan the room he used for passengers, along with the galley, 'fresher, and lounge. He left him to his own devices, heading to the cockpit. He sent a brief message to his mothers's ship: something came up, leaving for Coruscant. It was only a few minutes before he got a reply, as he was entering his ship into the takeoff queue. It was much longer than his, which meant that Pry was the one writing it, and boiled down to telling him to be safe, alongside a date and set of coordinates. He smiled as he saved the message, and lifted off as his turn in the queue finally came. Before he knew it they were out of the atmosphere, then out of orbit, and once the nav computer was set, he sent them into hyperspace. Maul leaned back in his chair, head tilted back and looking at the ceiling of the cockpit. Now he just had to spend a week in and out of hyperspace with some Jedi.
That was going to be fun. Not.
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darkspellmaster · 7 years
Text
In the Forest of No Return: Chapter 2 Lotor’s Plan
AN: Copyright for Voltron, Toei Animation, WEP, Dreamworks animation and Studio Mir.
Lotor
The two merchants had hailed the city several vargas ago and insisted upon speaking with Mogor, Lotor’s advisor, who was in charge of the city on Mezora, practically foaming at the mouth with excitement and hoping to get in the Prince’s good graces. After all, with his father incapacitated, and the likelihood of him never making a full recovery, rumors abound that the young Prince would soon become Emperor. So it was wise, at least to the two merchants, to get in his good graces while there was still time.
Mogor knew the Prince hated that fact. He had been with the young noble since he was a child, barley able to hold a sword, and had seen him grow into the cunning dispassionate man that he was now. Lotor had dealt with fools all his life. Those that would smile to his face, and name call him behind his back. He was used to it, and had learned long ago not to care. Or at least hide that care behind ambivalence. The less people had reason to be around him the better he felt. He trusted no one, save Mogor, and that was how it had been for years. No one quiet knew the Prince’s real personality. Sometimes he could come off as charming and witty, other times quiet and reserved, still others scheming and ruthless. But above all else Lotor was a man who didn’t like chances to slip from his grasp that was the only reason Mogor had allowed the call to come through.
“State your business,” the tall and brutish Galra officer had stated. His gray and black uniform standing out among the men he over saw. Standing at attention, Mogor stared at the screen, watching the two merchants as they seemed to question who was going to talk first. The more they seemed to hem and haw, the more aggravated he got and turned to look at his communication officer.
“Close the link, I have no time for this idiocy. There are important calls that could come through and I would like to keep the channels open.”
The officer nodded and was about to cut off the transmission when the taller of the two cloaked figures shouted, “Wait! We have news.”
“So you said,” Mogor stated, his face showing no indication of his annoyance, nor did his tone shift in the slightest to show any sign indicating he was displeased. “What is it that you have to say? Either speak now, or I will have this call terminated. And you should make it quick, I’m not a patient man.”
“Ah, yes, so we’ve heard,” said the shorter one of the two. He looked at his partner who shrugged and the shorter one continued. “We’d like to let Prince Lotor know that we’ve found three of the Voltron pilots.”
Mogor smirked some, unable to hide the chuckle that came upon his lips. His yellow eyes lit up with amusement. “Have you now? And what makes you think you have found them.” “Well we were at a dinner on Eios, when we saw these three young creatures across from us, and we were discussing issues about Mezora when one of them got up to use the bathroom and…”
Mogor had heard enough. This was useless chatter and waved his hand to his officer readying him to cut the call short when the tall one quickly interjected.
“Wait! Don’t cut us off yet! We really did see them. One had a dark tan face with a really stupid grin. The other had dark black hair with an orange wrap around the head and quiet chunky…”
“Yes quiet,” said the shorter one, “And the last had big round glasses and big brown eyes!”
“That could describe any humanoid being in the galaxy,” Mogor pointed out rather board with the discussion. He turned his head to his subordinate, “Cut the link…”
“Wait!” screamed the short one and pulled out the device. “Here! They were listening to us with this!”
Mogor stared at the device and raised his eyebrow, “That?” he questioned, “That just looks like a toy of some sort.”
“It’s not, I assure you,” insisted the tall one and the short one vigorously nodded his head sending the hood violently flapping, making the communication officer cover his mouth so they didn’t hear him laugh. “This device let them hear what we were saying in our own language. We think they were spying on us. The one with the orange wrap was watching us, even though he thought we did not see him.”
The short one shouted as he pushed up his hood some, “Yes, yes, and they left quickly after the one with the glasses seemed surprised by what we were saying. Something spooked him.”
“And I think they had a ship docked at one of the ports.” The tall one was now waving his hands around as if trying to draw out a map in the air. “Please, let us speak to Prince Lotor. We’re sure that they heard us and know of Mezora now.”
Morgor sniffed, this was news, but how good it was he wasn’t sure and he wasn’t about to let these oafs speak with the Prince. He closed his eyes and cleared his throat. “The Empire thanks you for your excellent work, and is pleased that you did your job as dutiful citizens. We will allow you to keep that object and will let the Prince know of you findings.”
“Wait…” started the short one, hopping for some form of payment, but Mogor signaled to his communication officer, who terminated the call, causing the screen to go blank again. Mogor shook his head and muttered under his breath.
“A likely story…”
“Though one I’m interested in,” a smooth and calm voice came from the door way and Mogor turned to face an elegant looking young noble. The young man’s eyes were a strange set up. Yellow like most other Galra, but they had irises and pupils more in line with his possible other heritage. Blue markings cut by his cheeks and his white hair was slightly pulled back to give him a more mature look. Some locks had come lose and hung lightly like bangs, which he brushed from his eyes as he came into the room.
At once the other officers stood and bowed to the young man along with Mogor. Unimpressed the young noble snorted at the display, pondering if his father were still awake, or if Mogor wasn’t in the room, would any of them bow to him in such a manner.
“Prince Lotor!” Mogor said and looked down, “I did not mean to disrespect you, your highness.”
Lotor let out a deep sigh and crossed his arms as Mogor glanced up. He was in his custom uniform, with orange and blue tints mixed with the black and light gray of the traditional Galra officer. Lotor was the only one allowed to wear such an outfit, something no other member of the Empire’s army could do, and some thought it was garish and out of place, but the Prince had always been that way. Choosing to embrace some of the distain of others and flaunt that as a means of showing control over things that he could. Uniform choice was one of them, and he wore it with pride. It suited him, more so, it make him look imperial when need be. At that moment a cape was draped over his back and it was clear he’d put it on recently as the rest of his uniform showed hints of damage from laser fire. Mogor assumed then that the young prince had gone into the training chamber for practice.
“No, I’m sure you did not,” Lotor said with a distant look on his face and motion Mogor to rise, which he did as did his men. They went quickly back to work as Lotor waited for an explanation of what was going on. Mogor stood at attention as he spoke.
“Sire, there was a call from the planet Eios, two unknown merchant hailed with some information regarding a bounty.”
“And what does that have to do with us? We have no bounty here, well none that is worth much.” He muttered thinking of the young Prince that was in the holding cells on the lower floors of the command center.
“The bounty information was about the Voltron Paladins, my lord,” Mogor explained and Lotor, who had been watching some monitors showing off the city and some of the surrounding area (mostly keeping an eye on some of the larger creatures to be sure that they weren’t about to break another wall –since one had just been repaired the other quintent), turned his attention immediately to his advisor and stared with some disbelief.
“Are you certain of this? What did they say?”
“Not much, my lord,” Mogor explained and relaxed just a little as Lotor fully faced him. The two men were vastly different in height and looks. Lotor with his elegant Altean features and sharp ears, was like a perfect alien prince, and his shorter height stood out among his men as he came up to their chests. Mogor was far more beast like in face, with harsher angles and dark flushed hair. He had very strong chin with a pounced nose that seemed to be slightly crooked from not healing straight after it had been broken. There was an air about the two men that showed a great deal of power and intimidation. No one dared to cut into the conversation.
“However you think that what they did say had some merit?” Lotor inquire, intrigued. Mogor nodded slightly at this and Lotor tapped his chin with a nail. “And what was it that you thought was of use to us?”
Mogor motioned for him to look at the video that they had filmed of the exchange. It was common practice to record any calls that came in from unknown frequencies. He stopped the video and had the technician zoom in on the strange device in the shorter merchant’s hand. “They claimed that they had seen members of Voltron and that they had listened into their conversation, then left the dinner that they were eating at on Eios.”
Lotor stared at the device and waved at the officer, “Enlarge it.”
The Galra officer did so without question and Lotor came up to the screen, and quickly pulled up a console, taking a full scan of the object and started to run various tests on the image. Eventually after a few moments the computer came up with a holographic version of the device. Lotor spun it around and looked at it from all angles and then glanced at Mogor. “Do we have any scans of devices from Olkari on hand?”
“I believe so Sire,” the technician said, and looked through the files that he had on the various devices the Galra at the base had taken in over the years. “Ah, yes there are a few. Do you wish me to scan them and the item for similarities?”
“As quickly as you can.” Lotor told him as the computer ran over the files, his eyes watching for the proof that he needed. If this was an items from Olkari then he had an idea who designed it, the Green Paladin.
Lotor had taken it upon himself to learn all that he could about the Paladins since he’d been brought back into the fold. He didn’t want just words from those that would kiss up to him for a place in the ranks, and their intelligence was tentative at best. Seeing the Voltron crew in action was something that he felt that he needed. After all they were an intelligent group, and he’d seen firsthand how they’d used what they knew to gather scaultrite from inside the Weblum in a risky, but impressive, way. He’d owe them that much he knew, particularly the red one, Keith, for saving him from inside his ship.
He’d watched video after video of captured footage from different locations of fights with the Voltron members, both on the ground from destroyed drones and in space as they’d wrecked ships. Then there were the videos of them in locations where they were in bases and on their own being relaxed. He’d found it all to be very informative, although it only gave him some speculation on how their relationships worked as well as their personalities interacted.
From what he could tell Keith was very serious but also someone who could lead and crack a joke around those that he trusted. He also had issues with himself and longed for answers to his past. Lance was one that was unsure of his role in the team, but when push came to shove he was very efficient and could not only follow orders but also come up with things on the fly. Hunk was one that seemed to be off in lala land quite a bit, but it was damn clear to him that Hunk could be a challenge when he threw himself fully into something as well as being extra sensitive to others and their needs. Something Lotor admired in a fighter. Then there was Shiro, the clear leader of the team and one that seemed to have a strange mix of attitudes. At points he seemed clear and in control, but there were moments Lotor caught something of fear or doubt in his face. He was scared of something, and the others didn’t see it. Lotor had found that interesting and felt that if he met Shiro he’d hone in on that factor. Whatever it was, it was something he could use against him.
The last one though was interesting. Pidge was the Green Paladin, and someone who seemed to be heavily involved in his work, however he was nothing more than what appeared to be a child. From the reports after the near takeover of the Castle of Lions, it seemed that Pidge was far more capable a fighter then Commander Sendak had assumed. He’d underestimated the Green Paladin and had allowed for his plans to be destroyed by this Pidge. The more he’d watched of the Paladin the more Lotor was interested in the way his mind ticked. Pidge had the air of someone who could go from zero to one hundred in less than five ticks, and it was clear that he knew what he was doing when it came to hacking and getting into the Galra systems. This fact had bothered him a lot, if a child could get at the systems, was it any wonder that his father’s great ship had fallen to the warriors of Voltron.
Pidge was an oddity that he wanted to explore more. Not a full on fighter as the others were, he was more built for stealth, and the fact that he was searching for his brother had been something that Lotor found useful. If he could get this other boy, he could use that to get at the Green Paladin, which could effectively weaken the team.
But at the moment that was not what he was thinking about as the numbers and images flashed in quick succession before him. Lotor’s mind was on the way that Pidge had shown a great deal of interest in technology and could reverse engineer things. This bothered him as it meant that he could effectively rebuild something that they had made and this could eventually be used against them. He needed to find a way to deal with that issue first, as he was sure the others would have a harder time dealing with them if he could take out the tech guy in their little group. He was sure that the device before their eyes was something that Pidge had built based on Olkari engineering, the question was what was it?
A beeping noise from the computer signaled that all tests were completed and Mogor’s voice called him back from his thoughts. “Sire, I believe we know what the device is.”
“Well then,” Lotor examined the list of information that lay before him, and carefully combed through it. His fingers danced over the pink screen and he made a faced as he fell into deep thoughts. “So it seems it’s a translator, how clever, and one that learns as well…interesting. But uttlerly useless unless the words match something that was already in there, or similar to another language.”
“So it appears, Prince Lotor,” Mogor agreed and Lotor waved the device screen away, and stepped away from the computer. He muttered to himself as he walked back and forth, as if trying to decode some puzzle that had been placed before him as a test.
“So they listened in and heard a conversation, what were they talking of?” he asked Mogor, who cleared his throat. “Well?”
“They said they were discussing matters on Mezora.”
Lotor’s brows narrowed and a dark anger entered his eyes, “What…matters…precisely?”
“They did not say. Only that they were talking about the planet…” Mogor said and Lotor scowled.
“I want them found, find out what they know, and if need be…make it clear that if they talk anymore of this planet they will be silenced.”
Mogor bowed, “As you command, my Prince.”
Lotor closed his eyes and headed for the door, “I’ll be in contact. I need to figure out what to do next. If they know of the planet then they are sure to come…but what to do with it.”
Leaving the area he ignored the greetings from his subordinates and went to his quarters. Stripping from his clothing he quickly ducked into a shower to clean and think. Closing his eyes he let the water from Mezora’s springs run over his sore body. There were scars from where he’d been sliced in combat when he was a child. Training his father’s generals had insisted upon, training he’d learned to despise as his height had been a problem and made him an easy target for the far taller and stronger of the new recruits. However his height had an advantage in how he could move, and he was far mobile then the others around him, and his hearing was better than the other Galran officers in his academy. Yet that had not stopped them from treating him as useless, a waste of space.
He clenched his fist, he’d shown them though. The moment he’d come up with his gun he’d proven to be a far greater shot and his studies of strategy and hand to hand combat had aided him to get him out of scrapes a traditional officer would have lost in. He could recall the face of Keith when he’d managed to get over his head. It made him smirk to know that he could still surprise others. He preferred to work alone, but in that case, it had been a bad move. Then again, he was never one to think of plans in the long term, especially when it came to dealing with being ignored or rebuked. So he’d foolishly gone to get the scaultrite on his own. His plans to build a telladove were slowly taking fruition, but it had been hard going, and others had not wanted to help. Even now he felt alone, an outcast among his own people. The only ones that he actually trusted were Mogor and Kossak. Mogor had been his advisor since he was young and Kossak had been a fellow recruit in the academy and had since become the head of his elite squadron. Still, the trust only went so far, and neither were of the brilliant mind Lotor believed himself to be when it came to understanding the science of the universe.
Cleaned, and relaxed, he donned a casual uniform, looser pants and a top that was built more in a traditional Altean garb. He knew that some of the base would be displeased seeing him in such wear, and he didn’t care. He would wear what he wanted and damn them to hell if they didn’t like it. Taking a seat in his quarters he pulled up the device again and looked it over. It was well crafted, not at all what he figured someone of Pidge’s age could craft. It made him wonder what the child’s IQ really was.
As he studied it a thought crossed his mind. They would be coming to Mezora, that was a given. There was no way that Voltron would not try to come and see if what the merchants had said was true. If that was the case, then he knew that they wouldn’t just rush in, given that Allura was no fool, and Corran was good at planning. They would have to have the element of surprise that was a must for the base.
Lotor steepled his fingers and looked out at the device. “They’re going to come, they heard something to interest them, and they wouldn’t have wanted to listen in unless there was a reason.” He was muttering again to himself, ignoring the drink on the side of the table and the food that had been brought in.  He rubbed his chin for a moment and closed his eyes again, focusing on what he’d seen in the videos, trying to think like the Voltron members.
“They’re going to send someone down….” He realized this quickly, but the question was who? Did it really matter? Not so much as long as he could get to them first. If he could capture the Paladin then he could use that against the others and possibly take the ship without firing a shot. A smile came over his lips as he got up and hurried out of the quarters, donning his cape again and heading to the command center’s main operations chamber. Again he ignored the greetings, and marched in without a second thought to protocol. Mogor was surprised to see him come back so soon and bowed.
“My Prince is there something wrong?”
“No, everything is right!” He grinned and quickly pulled up the console again, pulling Mogor over and showing him his plan. “We can trap a lion, Mogor.”
“How exactly, sire?” questioned the larger man as he stood beside his Prince. Moogor had seen Lotor like this before. When the boy had ideas he would stop at nothing till he had what he wanted. There were times his recklessness had caused more trouble than what the plan was worth, but Lotor always was thinking of plans that had merit, so he stood there and listened. If it was something that wasn’t feasible, he would just delay the orders and come up with an excuse later, at the moment though he let Lotor peel off his plan.
“If the Lions are coming they wouldn’t be dumb enough to just charge in and land, correct? Based on their patterns we can at least say they are smart enough to scout.” Lotor moved an image of the Castle of Lion’s ship into view of Mezora. Mogor nodded in agreement, as Lotor created another smaller ship. “We know that they wouldn’t risk a lion coming for us, so what’s the next best bet?”
“A scouting ship?” offered up Mogor and stared at the board before him. “Yes, I do see where you’re going with this. But how to deflect it?”
“We don’t.” Lotor said and smirked. “If the Castle is truly as old as Sendek had estimated, this means that the maps of the systems are no longer up to date. Which means they have no idea of the condition of Mezora as of right now.”
Mogor stared at the screen intrigued as the prince went on, moving the ship along a route. “They’re going to want to hide from us, so let’s not concern ourselves with that right now. Just focus on the pod that would be coming. A craft of that size travels at a slower speed then the lions. They won’t be traveling at the fastest speed as a means to stealth in, since they don’t know what’s down here. So if they’re going at a slower speed, they should show up around here.” He pointed to a location due west of the city. “More than likely they’ll try to go for the city to get some information from the locals.”
“And we catch them there?” questioned the advisor as Lotor shook his head. “Then where my lord? Wouldn’t it be easier to capture the paladin in the city?”
“No, we don’t want them getting into the city, it would cause issues,” he frowned slightly looking over the lay of the land. If the Voltron Paladins got into the city they could learn about the guest that they had in the cells and Lotor was planning on using him to get a great deal of resources for work on one of his projects.
He moved around some images. “We can get them to crash over here if possible.” He pointed towards an area with trees, far enough from the city to keep the paladin away from it’s secrets, but close enough so that his plans could come to fruition. “Then we can capture them while they’re not sure what’s going on.”
“And how do we get them to crash?” Mogor asked honestly and Lotor again pulled up some numbers and worked out a frequency as he applied a mathematical equation. Smiling he showed his advisor.
“Like this, this is a frequency that could disrupt a pod that was too close to the planet’s atmosphere. Once that happens, while the pilot is trying to figure out what’s going on. We swoop in and strike, causing them to crash.”
“And then what, my lord.” Mogor saw potential in this idea and Lotor’s knowing smirk came back.
“Then…you leave everything else up to me.”
**********
It was barely two Quintents had passed before reports of a pod had been brought up. Lotor had been in the command center’s chamber for vargas on end waiting. He watched every ship that passed by their area of space, searching for a telltale sign of the Castle of Lion’s pod ship that he was sure was going to come. And it did, during daylight of all times, cautiously entering their space.
“Sire, the scrambling device is working,” the communications officer told him and Lotor nodded watching with interest as the ship entered the atmosphere and began to have malfunctions. They’d picked some comments from the pod, but the scrambling device made it hard to hear who was inside. He had been sure that the Princess would have sent the Red or Blue Paladin since the Black one seemed to have been missing, or so the reports filtering into him had noted.
As the ship fell Lotor watched with excitement.
“Well, well, isn’t this interesting? So it looks like those two merchants were right when they said someone was listening to them. I wonder, just what prize have we caught?” He smirked and his yellow eyes brightened with anticipation of his catch.
With a resounding crash the pod had vanished into the trees and Lotor snorted, his calculations had been right, but he’d forgotten to add in error by the pilot trying to right the ship and the trees. This was going to make things a bit harder for him. Getting up from the chair he’d been sitting in Lotor looked to Mogor and waved at him.
“The rest I leave to you Commander Mogor. Make sure you don’t forget what we discussed.”
Mogor nodded and bowed his head, “As you command, Prince Lotor.”
Quickly he exited the main room and headed to his quarters. He’d instructed one of his servants to get him the garb of a prisoner, which was laying on his bed ready for use. Lotor scowled as he picked it up.
“Not dirty enough,” he grabbed hold of the top and pants then pulled them on. Without hesitation he took the drink and food he had in his room, and splattered it all over his clothing, staining it, then wetting the whole thing in his shower. He was soaked but that was only going to make it easier to gather dirt.
Grabbing a tie he pulled his hair back and went out of his room, and ignored the strange looks his officers gave him as he headed down to the holding cells in the lower floors. Here light was dim and designed to make the prisoners feel lost and abandoned. It was chilly and smelled of dry rot, but the place was oddly sanitary. Something he had made sure of. Sick prisoners were useless to him.
Marching at a quick pace past several guards, who were about to ask him questions, he moved over to a cell farther back. Inside a young man of about twenty sat, looking rather forlorn and scared. Lotor opened the cell with a quick hand press and the young man got up to his knees.
“Oh thank the gods, you’re here to let me go? Has my father paid my ransom yet?”
Lotor snorted and looked down at the man before him. He was younger then him, by Galran standards, and this young man certainly pulled off being a stuffy prince to a T. He had the soft face, the handsome eyes of a charmer, the well placed smile and the hands of one that had never worked a day in his life. This was vastly different to Lotor himself, whose hands had calluses from the gun he wielded, and the look to his eyes of someone who had known hardship. The only thing they shared was the white hair.
“Not yet, we haven’t even sent that out. But…Prince Bokar, I believe you can help me out.” Lotor told him and knelt down to stare at the prince’s face. He focused for several moments, examining as much as he could and the young prince seemed to become more and more unnerved the longer Lotor stared.  
“What…what are you doing?” Bokar asked nervously after several dobashes went by and Lotor said nothing. Then the prince gasped as Lotor closed his eyes and seemed to transform before him. His form shrunk ever so little to match Prince Bokar’s and his skin went from a lighter purple color to a pale skin much closer to that of the man before him. Concentrating hard he willed the markings on his face to vanish, leaving not even the slightest trace. When he opened his eyes they shifted around until they were a light brown color. He pulled at his bangs to match Bokar’s hair style then smiled in a smugly satisfied way at the Prince that was sitting transfixed before him.
“Well that should do.” Lotor stood to leave and Bokar dove to grab at his legs. Lotor moved faster and kicked him in the chin, sending him flying back and crashing against a chair in the cell. Bokar winced and shouted at him as he locked him back in.
“What are you doing? Do you really believe you’ll be able to take my place?”
Lotor snorted and looked down at Bokar with an uncaring stare in his now brown eyes. “Hardly. You’re useful for a trap I have set for Voltron, and that is all. I would never think to take on your unworthy role. You aren’t even qualified to have the title of prince.”
With that Lotor turned and stalked out of the prison and went up to the main floor. He waited and watched the guards. If his trap was to succeed then he needed to be sure that the guards believed what they saw. He checked the cameras, and then threw a loose screw he’d picked up along the way, at one, damaging it, knowing full well it would get the guards attention.
And it did just that. At the prisons security center the guards saw what looked to be Prince Bokar escaping from his holding area. Lotor raced along the corridors, ducking and hiding between doors and columns to give the appearance of trying to sneak out. He moved quickly to the vehicle dock and stole what was pretty much a speeder bike from the hanger. The alarms were going off as he took off, allowing the guards to see him, knowing that they would be in alert.
If Mogor keeps up his part of the plan, I should be able to get out and into the forest with them following. Lotor thought as he raced around the city streets, dodging fire and pedestrians. A troop of drones were following him, running at full speed, a few on bikes. He snorted, if he didn’t want them to follow him, he would have lost them long ago. Turning several corners, to make sure they were coming, he went for the gate.
The main city of Asora that they were in had a high wall around the body set up for siege war fare which happened six thousand years before. The main gate was a huge thing that had two halves, the top part locked into the bottom through a series of lasers that interwove when they met up. Lotor had told Mogor to slow down the interlocking sequence so he could get out of the city before the guards to keep things looking legit.
“Mogor, don’t fail me now,” he muttered as he raced at top speed for the gate that seemed to be lowering. He gritted his teeth as he saw the gate going down faster and slid under to avoid the lasers that were starting to lock the two halves together. Lotor watched as the gate closed, and counted several ticks before taking off when he saw the guards pouring out of the reopened gate.
The cut at the gate was a bit close, it bothered him, and Lotor knew when he got back he would talk to Mogor about why he’d not given him room to breathe. Still he had to give the Commander credit. He was good at his job and kept true to his word. Lotor drove the speeder through the rough western terrain of the open meadows around the city limits, and towards the forests.
“Now where are you?” he pulled up a gps to map the location of the downed ship even as a hail of fire blasts were nipping at his heels. One singed his hair and he winced as he felt his flesh heat up. Well I wanted this realistic didn’t I?
He wished he had a weapon on hand, but the robots were catching up fast, so if they did shoot him too early he wouldn’t have the proper item to deflect their assault. However as it was he was in the forest around the trees and led them on a jolly chase through the trunks and up several fallen trees to higher ground.
As he buzzed around Lotor would glance now and again at the map and how far he was to the pod. Twisting past a number of dead trunks he made sure that the robots crashed into them as he weaved about, making as much noise as he could the closer he got to the site of the crashed ship. He was hoping that the Paladin would hear it and come see what the noise was.
“That’s it follow me,” he grinned to himself. At that moment he felt exhilarated by the whole pursuit and partly hoped that it wouldn’t end. His revelry was cut short when his speeder was hit and the whole thing took a nose dive into the ground, skidding deeply into the mud and throwing him hard into the air and he crashed into some bushes, feeling stinging pain.
Lotor could taste blood by his mouth and tried to get up. Suddenly several blasters came up to his face. He stared surprised at this, and held up his hands, “Hold it…don’t shoot. I’m your Prince.”
The drones looked at one another for a second, and he used the moment to jump up, and sweep kick two off their feet, forcing them to fall into their fellow guards. Lotor smashed his foot into one of their chest and leapt for a ledge that was just above them. He gained the ground as he pulled himself up, but the robots weren’t done and they tracked him now on foot.
He counted in his head, five hundred feet…he moved through the underbrush, pushing aside smaller trees and their limbs as he raced for the pod.
Three hundred feet…he could make out the break in the trees where the pod had landed.
Another few feet, One hundred feet….he was nearly there, and so were the guards. They were firing again and he used his agility to avoid being hit, but again he wished he had a blaster in hand. He missed his side arm, and throwing the robots around would not gain him what he needed. He was supposed to be a weak prince, not someone trained to fight. If the pilot was the Red or Yellow Paladin and saw him firing they would know something was up, and that would ruin his plan.
Fifty feet…he could hear a voice calling out, it was distant but he was sure it was the Paladin, but he couldn’t quiet tell which it was.
Twenty…Ten…five…He started to yell out for help. “Help! Oh is someone there! Please help me!”
His screams were loud, loud and scared. He needed them to be believiable and allowed one of the robots to hit him in the back of the leg, sending a sensation through his body that caused him to howl in pain.
Lotor doubled over, stumbling and falling, cluching his wounded leg as the robots surrounded him. He tried to calm his breathing but it was difficult and he could see a burnt mark appearing on his skin, turning it purple and he focused to cover the color. It hurt like hell, and he didn’t know if he could sustain the illusion. The guards drew closer and he could make out their hard metal clinks. For anyone else this would be terrifying, but he knew that he could take them. Right then though he had to at least give the Paladin time to find him, so he kept calling out for help.
“Please, if anyone is there! I need help! Please, they’ll kill me!”
The pain was starting to get to him, and he gritted his teeth as the drones started to hit him. He could feel their punches and was counting the number of hits, as that would be the number of robots he would destroy in training when this was all over. He was about to drop the farce as the pain from the hits was becoming too much for him to keep the illusion up, when he heard a shout from above.
“Hey leave him alone!” as a blur of a green lighting seemed to take a few of the guards out. In a moment there was a frenzy of black, green and white blurring, and whirling around him. The robots seemed to scatter and rush off, to regroup. A gloved hand touched his shoulder and Lotor looked up into a pair of soft brown eyes that was looking down at him with a worried look.
“Are you okay? Uh…Hello?” the voice was that of the Green paladin, but Lotor had to do a double take, there was no way this could be. He slowly sat up and took Pidge’s outstretched hand and looked at it, then let his eyes rove over the form before him. He blinked, he’d not calculated this at all in his wild plan.
The one to save him, the one to come to the planet was the Green Paladin, and to his disbelief, he’d been wrong about the gender. This was no male paladin, but a female.
“Ah, yes, thank you miss…” he started to say, when the pain made him double up and he had a choice, either try to deal with the pain in his real form, or keep up the illusion and let it over whelm him. The choice was made for him by his body though, and he passed out in Pidge’s arms to her utter shock.
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