#i go mad with visions and prophecies and i just instantly know everything all at once | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

donteattheappleshook · 4 years

Text

Stone Hearts Chapter 13/13 - Epilogue

Here it is. It’s finally totally done. This is the first MC fic that I’ve completed and it took me a really long time but I wanted to say thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged and commented and flailed over this story. It might be cheesy to say but I could not have done it without all the support. You taking the time to tell me that you enjoyed this story kept me writing even when I didn’t want to.

So, after nearly 3 years (yeesh) here is the end of Stone Hearts.

Summary:

Emma should have known. She should have known that they couldn’t just go to the underworld and not suffer any consequences. She should have known they’d bring something back with them.

Cannon Divergent after 5x21 Last Rites. No Hyde. No serum. No Evil Queen split. No prophecy. No season 6.

Read from the beginning on Ao3 or FFn because tumblr eats all my italics.

Rated E

Epilogue

“He’s going to forgive you, Swan,” Killian said, reaching for her hand where it was clutching the steering wheel, knuckles white.

“You don’t know that,” she said. “I sent him away. I'm his parent and I left him. You know how that feels.”

“Aye, I do. And so do you,” he answered, his thumb brushing back and forth over the back of her hand. “But you forgave your parents because they sent you away to protect you, to keep you safe - just as you did.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” she asked, finally turning to look at him briefly before looking back at the road. They were nearly at the town line. After defeating the King, Emma, Killian, Belle and Tink had all found their way to Granny’s where all of the formerly cursed folk seemed to have ended up.

There was confusion at first, chaos, anger and resentment over what cursed people had done to the uncursed. And there was regret, guilt and remorse over the actions that the cursed people’s bodies had taken without their consent. Storybrooke had been in a state of panicked relief that, while it would take a while for the wounds to truly disappear, her parents had been able to calm it slightly with another of their excellent hero speeches - for the time being.

Once that had settled, there was the matter of finding everyone, making sure each townsperson was accounted for and - Emma hated to think it even now - alive. The census was still in progress. People had been found all over - the mines, the forest - may with no sense of where they were when they woke up, or how to return home. They were still finding people now, two days later.

That was why Emma had waited until now to go get Henry. At least that was what she was telling herself. Her first thought after finding her parents and her friends and seeing that they were safe was that she needed to get him. But one look around and the state of the town had her believing this was not a good place for him to return to - not like this.

She wanted to wait until the waters had calmed before bringing him home. The town would be forever changed but she didn’t want Henry to fall prey to the madness and the threats and the fear that had surrounded them for the first thirty-six hours after the curse broke. It wasn’t safe.

But now she couldn’t wait any longer, didn’t want to wait any longer. She missed him. It had only been four days but not having him with her, not being in contact, not knowing if he was safe. She hated it. She wanted her son back. But she was so so afraid.

The way he had looked at her when she tricked him into crossing the barrier - the anger and the hurt and the betrayal had felt like - well it felt like having her heart ripped out of her chest. What if he hated her? What if he never forgave her for this? Henry had always wanted to be the hero, had always wanted to do right, and she’d denied him that.

“Emma, I can feel your heart racing,” Killian said, giving her hand a little squeeze. That was a strange side effect to the heart split, one she was still getting used to. It wasn’t unpleasant, per say, but it was new and unlike anything she’d ever experienced. They couldn’t feel everything the other felt, that would have been a whole other story. But, whenever one felt something acute, something overwhelming and intense, the other had a small sense of it, an echo in their own chest.

They hadn’t had much experience with it yet, seeing as both had been living in a state of shared, high alertness for days now. But when Killian first saw one of the men he had gravely wounded, a deep welt still in the man’s shoulder, she had felt her heart flutter in her chest, like a feeling that something was wrong, an intuition. She hadn’t seen the man until she turned to find Killian, frozen in place as he stared at him, tense and breathing quickly.

She took a deep breath. Tried to calm her pounding heart.

“He will forgive you. I know a boy’s love for his mother. And I know Henry’s love for you. He may be angry,” he said and at least he was being honest. “But he’ll forgive you. In time.”

She nodded, a little appeased by his assurance. He smiled at her softly and brought her knuckles to his lips, brushing a kiss against them. They were nearly at the line. They’d managed to text Ruby and had learned that she and Henry had been holed up at a motel for the last two days. Both of them were safe. They had arranged to meet them here at five, the King’s spell on the town line having disappeared along with his curse.

Regina was in the car behind them. Snow and David following closely too. At first she’d worried about overwhelming him but she knew that Henry would want to see them all, that he would need to be assured that they were safe. And maybe a small part of her hoped that if he was wrapped up in the happiness of the reunion he wouldn’t remember to be as angry with her.

“Are you ready?” Killian asked as she put the bug in park. She wasn’t. She definitely wasn’t but she needed to see him and she needed to hold him in her arms and make sure he was really alright.

She could see him, standing right at the edge with Ruby, looking eagerly at the cars that were approaching. He looked a little less tired, a little less hungry than he had the last time she’d seen him.

Emma nodded. She was ready.

She’d hardly made it out of the car before she was bowled over by the force of a fourteen year old crashing into her. She took only a minute to be surprised, to be caught off guard before she wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug.

“I knew you’d do it,” she heard him say from where his face was buried somewhere in her shoulder. Emma let out as small sob as she held him even closer, even tighter, as though that were possible. When she was pretty sure that she’d managed to squeeze absolutely every last bit of air from his lungs, she pulled back, took his face in her hands and bent down a little so they were at eye-level. She tried not to think about the fact that they wouldn’t be at eye level much longer at the rate he was growing.

“I thought you’d hate me,” she admitted. Henry gave her an eyebrow raise that was so reminiscent of Killian it was almost eerie.

“I don’t hate you. You’re my mom. I was really really mad at you.” Emma swallowed but let him continue. “But I was able to calm down after a bit and Ruby made me understand why you did it. It was like when I was born. You wanted to keep me safe.” Emma nodded, tears starting to blur her vision. “But mom, you can’t keep protecting me forever. Eventually you have to let me start fighting the battles with you.”

“No more battles -” she tried but he shook his head.

“This is Storybrooke, Mom. There’s always a chance of something happening. We can’t make the mistake of pretending that’s not the truth. Not again.”

Emma brushed some of his hair back, looked at him and really saw him - saw how much their latest tragedy had changed him, aged him, but also made him stronger. Even now he spoke to her with confidence way beyond his years. He was growing up. She had to accept it.

“When did you get so wise?” she asked.

“I’ve always been wise,” he scoffed and Emma laughed. “So will you let me help next time?”

“How about when you’re thirty?” Emma suggested with a small curl to her lip.

“Mom.”

“Fine. Twenty-eight. That’s the first time I fought a monster. Sounds fair.”

“Mom!”

Emma smiled at him. “Why don’t we deal with that when it happens,” she suggested, a peace offering. “For now, I’m just so happy you’re alright and you’re safe. I don’t want to think about the next time I could nearly lose you. Is that okay?”

She could tell by his expression that he wasn’t going to give this up, that they’d have this discussion again. But for now, he nodded and hugged her again.

“From what I saw of that slingshot, the boy does pretty well for himself against monsters already,” she heard Killian say behind her. Henry’s head instantly shot up, looking over her shoulder.

“Killian!” he cried before detangling himself from her and rushing at the man with as much force as he’d rushed her if Killian’s grunt at the impact was any indication. “You’re okay!”

Emma wasn’t sure if the swell in her chest was because of her or Killian. It was probably both, but she watched as Killian put his hand on the back of Henry’s head and wrapped his hooked arm around him, a small awed smile on his face, like he still couldn’t quite believe that Henry cared for him as much as he did for Henry. She knew how much it affected him this time, she quite literally felt it tug at her heartstrings.

“Aye, I’m alright,” he promised.

“I never got to say thank you for saving me,” Henry said, pulling back. “In the mines.”

Killian took hold of the side of his face, met his gaze. “Always, Henry,” he told her son. “I’d lay down my life for you.” Emma knew it was true, and she knew Henry did too. Her son clapped Killian on the shoulder in a very grown up sort of way and she saw Killian smile, she felt her own smile pulling at her lips.

“Henry?”

“Mom!” he shouted, rushing past Killian to Regina who was getting out of her car. She received an equally enthusiastic tackle.

Emma turned then to find Ruby. She closed the distance between them in a few strides, wrapping her arms around her friend’s neck and pulling her close. “Thank you,” she said as Ruby’s hands found her back. “Thank you for everything. I couldn’t have let him go if I didn’t know that you would keep him safe. Thank you for protecting him.”

“Of course,” Ruby said, pulling back to look at her. “We’re family. We’re all family now.” She turned then to Killian who had joined them. “Glad to have you back, Captain,” she said with one of her cheeky smiles. “That pretty face isn’t nearly as fun without the swagger to go along with it."

Killian laughed. “I missed you too, Ruby. Thank you for everything. For helping Emma, for taking care of Henry…”

“We should be thanking you guys for breaking the curse,” she said, looking between the two of them.

“Yeah,” Henry piped up from beside David's truck. “How did you guys break the curse anyway?”

Emma and Killian looked at each other, both of them going a little red as they smiled at one another. Killian scratched behind his ear.

“True love’s kiss,” Emma told them.

“But how?” David asked, with a surprised frown. “We tried that with Snow and I. The curse was too strong. Their memories were buried too deep to let them remember their feelings.”

“Yeah and you hated Killian when he was cursed,” Henry added. “No offence,” he added for Killian’s sake.

“None taken. But, it would seem that Emma cannot resist my charms regardless of my altered persona. Cursed or not, I am still startlingly handsome.” He had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face and Emma raised a brow at him.

“Yeah, keep going,” she said. “See how far those charms get you.”

Killian laughed. “And I, even in my cursed state, fell in love with her. It would seem it takes more than a lack of memories, feelings, and a heart encased in stone to sway the hold you have on me, Love.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, placed a kiss to her temple. Okay, he was nearly forgiven.

“Oh, you have to tell us that story,” Ruby said, looking way too intrigued while Mary Margaret put both her hands to her heart and sighed a little 'oh'.

“Yeah! And I want to hear how you defeated the King!” Henry insisted.

“Perhaps,” Regina interjected. “We should do this somewhere other than the middle of the road.”

"You're right,” Emma said, slipping her arm around Killian’s waist, smiling at her son. “Let’s go home.”

***

“So he just turned into dust?” Henry demanded, half standing in his seat at the table. They’d all made their way back to her and Killian’s house where Mary Margaret and David had whipped up a meal that would have impressed even Granny with the few resources that were left in the pantry. Emma wondered how long it would be before the stores were open again and they could get real food.

“Yup,” Emma said before gesturing at him with her fork. “Eat your dinner.”

Henry did as he was told, sitting down and shoveling a forkful into his mouth. “And Belle put my grandpa in Pandora’s box?” he asked around said mouthful.

“Yeah. She was pretty great,” Emma said. “So was Tink.”She could feel Killian’s hand tighten on her knee at the mention of Gold and she wondered how much he remembered from being under the Dark One’s control.

“Where are they now?” Ruby asked, her concern for her friend evident.

“On the Jolly Roger,” Killian answered for her. “Belle had made herself quite at home before the King arrived. She, uh,” he scratched behind his ear. “She didn’t want to return to her home with the Dark One, so I offered my ship again. Tink is with her - to ensure she’s not alone and that the child isn’t born on the Jolly.” Emma smirked at the way he cringed at the idea.

“I should to go see her,” Ruby said. “I thought we’d lost her in the first wave.” Ruby stood setting down her napkin and thanking them for the meal. “I’m going to head to the docks,” she told them. Emma would have offered that she stay but she knew that Ruby was anxious to see Belle, to make sure she was alright in the same way that Emma had been anxious to see her and Henry.

“I suppose I should get going too,” Regina noted when everyone had said their goodbyes to Ruby. She hesitated. “Henry, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” her face held a sadness that Emma saw reflected in her son’s and it drove her to say what she said next.

“You should stay.” Several pairs of surprised eyes turned to her then.

What? She wanted to say. She and Regina weren’t enemies anymore - hell they were even friends at this point, even if their last interaction before the curse had been tense. But she supposed their surprise was right - they were friends, but they weren’t the kind of friends who had sleepovers. But Emma didn’t want Henry to be forced to choose between his mothers - not tonight when he’d only just gotten them back.

She saw her parents looking unsure as well so she added, “You should all stay. None of us should have to be apart tonight. There’s plenty of room.” She felt Killian take her hand under the table, brush his thumb over her knuckles again and she knew that he understood that she didn’t want to be separated from her son or her parents either.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Snow said and Emma heard the shaky tearfulness of her voice. The plans were made, bedrooms decided on, and after, Henry practically begged that they all sit and watch a movie with Emma’s signature popcorn with milk duds.

“Aye,” Killian had said when Henry suggested it, his face cringing at the thought of the snack even more than Regina’s had and making Emma laugh. “I can’t think of anything more wonderfully normal.”

It was normal, almost boring really. They watched The Princess Bride and laughed at all the right parts and Killian squeezed her hand at all the right bits, and it felt so wonderfully, perfectly normal. She’d missed normal. She’d missed boring - maybe not boring but rather quiet. And she’d missed having it with her family, with the people she loved. She felt Killian’s hand tighten in hers again and realised that a tear had slid down her cheek.

“You alright, Love?” he whispered.

She nodded. “Just happy.”

Killian smiled at her, dropped her hand to cup her cheek and kissed her deeply.

“Ew,” she heard the sound of a disgusted fourteen-year-old. “And on that note,” he said. “I’m going to bed.” Emma pulled back, laughing, everyone else joining in - even Henry eventually.

The movie had just wrapped up. It wasn’t that late but everyone was so tired all the time now, every day was so heavy and so emotional - and would probably be for a while to come. So nobody protested, everyone slowly milling out of the living room slowly and heading off in their respective directions.

Emma hugged her mom and dad one more time and she was pretty sure that they were both trying to squeeze the air out of her lungs the same way that she had with Henry. She let them, hugged them back just as tight. She’d missed them.

“We’ll be right down the hall if you need us,” David said and Emma bit back her smile. She wasn’t a little girl and sometimes her dad forgot that but it was kind of sweet really. Speaking of which, Emma needed to go say goodnight to Henry. She peeked her head into his room just as Regina was finishing saying goodnight. She kissed his forehead and found herself repeating the same words her father had.

Finally, she made her way to her bedroom where Killian was already sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her.

“Quite the full house we have tonight,” he said with a small, tired smile.

She returned it. “Isn’t it great?”

He nodded and Emma began getting ready for bed, stripping off her shirt and dreaming of her comfy PJs. She’d been wearing the same shirt and jeans for nearly two days. They hadn’t had a chance to go home and change, hadn’t had a moment’s rest since the King was defeated. There had been too much to do, too much chaos to wrangle. Last night she and Killian had spent the night at Granny’s, still helping and taking turns sleeping in the vinyl booths when they could. She was still sore now.

She felt the tug at her heart, the one she’d only just discovered, hadn’t had a chance to get used to yet. Her head snapped up, worried that something was wrong, something that had sent Killian’s heart racing. She whirled around to find him unharmed, undistressed, but watching her, his eyes roving over her bare skin, eyes slightly hooded, cheeks slightly flushed.

Oh.

He stood slowly, crossed the short distance between them and traced his fingers from the top of her shoulder down to her elbow where the shirt was still hooked. Emma shivered, as he pulled it free. It had been so long since she’d felt his hand on her - his hand, not Hooks but Killian’s, slow and purposeful and intent as it slid to her waist, following the curve around her back and down to the waist of her jeans. Her skin was on fire, goosebumps everywhere. He stepped closer, invading her space in the best way until she could feel his breath on her face and the heat from his body.

“I missed you,” he whispered, the words spoken against her lips. Emma couldn’t really explain what happened next. Maybe it was the fact of having him so close after so long, of knowing he’d missed her just as much as she’d missed him, or all the stress of the last few days, all the lost and the reunions and the heartbreak and the love. She leaned in, moving past his lips, burrowing her face in his neck and wrapping her arms around his back, holding as tightly to her as she could.

She felt his surprise for a moment, his concerned ‘Swan?’ spoken into her ear. She was sure he could feel the wetness of her tears against the crook of his shoulder. His hand that had been tracing patterns on her lower back paused.

“Just a minute,” she said, squeezing her arms tighter, nuzzling deeper and breathing him in. “Just a minute.”

She felt him relax, his hand on her back sliding up to her shoulder, his thumb brushing the nape of her neck as he wrapped his hooked arm around her waist and pulled her in closer, his face turning into her hair. She just needed to hold him. Just for a minute. After all this time.

Of course she wanted him, needed him, missed him. But she needed this more, needed this first. And so she held onto him and he let her for as long as she needed, craning his neck occasionally to press his lips to her temple, to her cheek, wherever he could reach and every kiss was another reminder. He’s here. Every soothing word and promise he breathed into her ear made her believe it more, trust that it was real and that she wouldn’t wake up from some amazing dream. He was here. She’d found him. He’d found her.

His lips found her neck and she knew it was meant to be sweet, another soft reassurance, a comfort, but her body reacted immediately. Muscle memory kicking in and reminding her that she had Killian here, with her, finally, to hold and to touch and to kiss as she pleased. She pressed her lips to the spot where his neck met his shoulder, where her face was already, and began trailing them up the column of his throat to below his ear.

She felt his muscles tense and his breathing hitch, and he turned his face to hers when she reached his jaw, capturing her mouth with his in a desperate, open mouthed kiss, his tongue delving deep, his hand sliding to the back of her neck to pull her closer, to open her up under him while his hooked arm pulled her closer, fusing them together.

He groaned into her mouth and Emma felt it like a shock to her core. Maybe it would have been nice for their reunion to be slow, for them to take their time finding each other again. And maybe there would be time for that later. But right now, she needed him and she could feel how much he needed her. She rolled her hips against him and he gasped into her mouth before claiming it again with lips and teeth and tongue.

She reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head so that she could look at him, run her hands over the warm skin and the soft hair beneath it. He pulled back reluctantly to allow her to lift the shirt off, only to focus his attention on her neck once he was free. His lips trailed fire, licking and biting and sucking his way to her throat, down her chest.

“I missed you,” he whispered between kisses. “Gods, I missed you.”

She reached behind herself frantically to discard her bra, throwing it somewhere on the floor just before his hand found one breast, teasing it with the pad of his thumb over it’s peak as he took the other into his mouth, hot and wet and God, she’d missed him too.

“Killian,” she begged, trying her best to keep her voice down, to be conscious of the guests that could overhear, but it was difficult as he flicked his tongue over her nipple while he pulled and rolled the other. She was on fire, already so close to the edge and she just needed him now, needed him to stop teasing and fuck her. Fuck her so that they could erase the past few months, fuck her to prove that he was here and solid and hot and hers. There would be time to make love later. Right now she needed him hard and she needed him desperate.

“Killian,” she insisted again when he didn’t let up, this time reaching for his belt and pulling him with her, backing up until her knees hit the bed and she fell back against it. He was on her in a second, arm wrapping around her back so that he could lift her, toss her further up towards the middle. She saw it in his eyes, the desperation and the need that was reflected in her own.

She reached for her own belt, undoing it and the fly of her jeans and starting to slide them down her legs, hooking her underwear with them. Killian followed her lead, reaching for his pants and hastily shedding them, his breathing ragged as he alternated between watching her undress and undressing himself.

Finally he kicked his jeans off, reaching out to help her slide her own over her feet. He threw them out of the way, looking at her with hooded eyes, kneeling at the end of the bed between her legs as he caught one ankle in his hand. He placed it on his shoulder gently before pressing a soft kiss to the inside of her ankle, his lips trailing slowly down her calf, his eyes not leaving hers.

Fuck. Fuck! She wanted him now, wanted to drag him up to her by his hair and grab hold of his cock and slide him inside of her. But it felt so damn good what he was doing to her. He looked so fucking hot looming over her, naked, cock hard and bobbing against his stomach as his teeth nipped at the skin on her inner thigh, just above her knee, his hand sliding slowly down to where she was wet and waiting for him.

She writhed on the bed, desperate for him to just touch her already. His fingers toyed delicately at the spot where her leg met her hip, at the delicate skin there, so close to where she wanted them and she let out a frustrated cry. She was two seconds away from using her foot on his ankle to kick him off and do the job herself when he dove in, hand and hook wrapping around her thighs and spreading her open as his lips latched onto her clit.

Jesus fucking christ! She nearly came right then and there as he took the bud into his mouth and sucked, slow, deep pulls that made her see stars and grind her hips against his face. He didn’t let up, sucking harder and harder and faster until she was racing towards the edge of that cliff so quickly she didn’t think there was any way she could stop.

It wasn’t until he pushed two fingers inside of her that she came to her senses. She grabbed at his hair, pulling him back and trying to wiggle away from him before he could drive her over the edge. He looked up from between her thighs, met her eyes, his pupils blown and his hair falling over his forehead into them, cheeks flushed, lips damp and confusion maring his brow.

“Inside,” she panted, her words as incoherent as her thoughts. “I want you inside me,” she said, watching as his eyes darkened. “I want to come around you. Together.”

He practically growled as he crawled his way back up her body, steadying himself on his elbow before taking himself in hand and thrusting into her tight heat with no preamble. Emma cried out, back arching off the mattress at the intrusion. Yes. That was what she wanted. That was what she needed.

His hand found her thigh, angling her as he pushed into her relentlessly, hard and fast and punishing as his lips found her neck again, his grunts and pants echoing in her ear. She bit her lip against the litany of cries and moans and curses and sobs that were trying to escape her. The whole bed shook under the force of his thrusts and Emma dug her nails into his back, desperate for something to grab on to. He’s here. He’s real and solid under your hands and inside of you. Flesh and blood and human and yours.

“I never,” he gasped into her ear. “Fuck. I never want to forget you again,” he groaned and she knew that he needed this the same way she did. She felt like he was trying to imprint her under his skin so that they could never be separated again. He cried out as her nails dragged down his back, her hips canting up to meet his. “Yes,” he practically moaned against her skin. “Mark, me, Swan. Don’t let me forget.”

She was close, so, so close but she needed him there with her, needed him to follow her over the edge. She held herself off with as much strength as she could, sliding her hands down his back to grab at his ass, to pull him closer, deeper, her hips matching his every thrust.

“Please, Kilian,” she begged him, knowing she couldn’t hold out much longer. Her legs were shaking, the first pinpricks licking at her spine. He groaned, sliding his mouth over hers, his tongue desperately seeking her own, tangling together as he kept up his brutal pace.

She could taste herself on him, could feel his groan reverberating through her chest and her core, heard his his mumbled ‘I love you’ against her lips and then she was there, her whole body tensing, wrapping herself around him, nails and heels and teeth digging into his flesh as she shook with the force of her climax. She whimpered, mouth open and brow screwing up, overwhelmed by the feeling, overpowered by it. She felt him finish with her, the heat of his release spilling inside her spurring on her own.

They were still for a moment as Emma’s muscles slowly started to relax, until she could loosen the death grip she had on him. He wasn’t fairing much better, his whole body trembling over hers, his arm just barely keeping his full weight off of her.

“Fuck,” she breathed out when she finally had control of her body again. He huffed out a laugh but it was weak, exhausted. He raised his head from her breast, hand cupping her face as he kissed her again, slowly, deeply, breathlessly.

“I missed you.” She was the one to say it this time as he rested his forehead against hers, noses pressed to cheeks, lips barely a breath apart.

“I gathered that,” he said, a smirk in his voice and if she’d had more energy she would have rolled her eyes, maybe smacked him for his cheek. But she didn’t.

He rolled them over so that he lay on his back and curled her into his chest, her fingers drawing patterns through the hair beneath her hand. They found the ink there, the tattoo over his heart that marked their commitment and she leaned over to press her lips to it, then pulled back to trace it carefully.

“I can feel you thinking,” he said after a moment. “You honestly shouldn’t be able to think at all after that. A man might take offence,” he teased and Emma smiled against his chest. God she’d missed him. His voice and his laugh and his teasing and all of the life in him that made him the man she loved. “What is it?” he asked, softer this time.

“I guess I’m just a bit bummed. With everything that happened… we’re probably going to have to delay the wedding. I don’t think the people of Storybrooke could handle that right now, not after everything that happened. A big, fancy party might look bad.”

He hummed. “I don’t relish the idea of not being married to you for a second longer if I’m honest. But I understand what you mean.”

“Maybe we should elope,” she said, head popping up to look at him. He smiled fondly, fingers tracing along her spine. She could tell he thought she was joking. “I’m serious,” she told him and he cocked his head to look at her. “Why don’t we just do it? Get married. Right now.”

“What, tonight?” he said in disbelief, brows shooting up to his hairline.

“Why not? The only people I want there are in this house and on your ship. I don’t need a big wedding. I just want to be married to you. And I don’t want to wait. I want to start being with you forever right now.”

He smiled at her again, a bright thing that lit up his whole face. She was serious. She wanted this. Right now. They’d fallen in love so many times now, had overcome so many odds, found each other again and again. She loved him, completely and totally and she didn’t want to wait another day to tell the whole world. And she didn’t have to. Her whole world was under this roof. Him, Henry, her parents. Why should they wait?

“I dare say I like the idea of being allowed to call you my wife tonight,” he said. She was taking that as a yes. She sat up, nearly laughing at his slightly put-out expression. “Where are you going?” he demanded.

“Get dressed,” she told him. “Head down to the ship and wake Belle and Tink. Ruby’s probably there too. I’ll wake the others and meet you there in an hour,” she explained, throwing clothes on as he watched her from the bed, sliding his jeans over his legs.

“Can fairies perform wedding ceremonies?” she asked. “Is that a thing? They feel all mystical and stuff and like they should be allowed to. Can you ask Tink? Oh god this will be hard to sell to my mom. Maybe she’ll think it’s romantic though -” She was fully dressed now, hurrying to the door, still rambling when he caught her elbow with his hook. “What?”

He pulled her back to him and she followed skeptically but not unwillingly. “We’re getting married tonight,” he told her and she felt the weight of his words, but not in a bad way. They felt like a wave washing over her, warming her, enveloping her. They were getting married tonight. “Let’s take a moment to enjoy that, shall we?” he teased.

She bit her lip, realising she’d gone off the rails there for a moment. She watched the amused, affectionate smile cross his face and felt her own pulling at her lips, blissfully, perfectly happy. He took her face in hand, pulled her in and she rose on her tiptoes to meet his lips. His kiss was soft, gentle and excited, his mouth turning up at the corners against hers.

“Go,” he said when they pulled apart. “I’ll meet you aboard in an hour. Do you -” he started, hesitated and Emma was fully expecting him to scratch his ear. “Do you mind if I wake Henry? I’d like to ask him to be my best man.”

She smiled at him again. Kissed him again. “I think he’d love that,” she said and the small hint of relief on his face warmed her heart. “I’ll go wake my parents… Maybe ask Henry to wake Regina when you’re done - so she doesn’t curse us.”

He sighed, eyes rolling skyward in exasperation. “Too soon, Love. Too soon.”

She giggled, running off to get ready.

Her parents were surprisingly easy to win over, understanding that sometimes you just couldn’t wait for love - Snow hinted not so subtly that they could have a big party later, when everything had calmed down.

David immediately demanded to know if Killian owned a suit - something Emma was pretty sure he didn’t - and then insisted on rushing home to grab one for him to borrow. ‘Nobody is marrying my daughter in a leather jacket’ he’d muttered as he rushed off. Emma and Snow both bit back their laughter.

“We need to find you a dress!” Snow cried. “And something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue,” she continued, counting them off on her fingers.

“Mom, really, it’s not that kind of thing. We’ll be fine.”

“Emma,” she said, taking her daughter’s shoulders. “Please let me do this. As your mother. I… need to.”

Emma nodded, agreeing but reminding her that she only had an hour. Snow was quick, finding a pair of blue heels buried in the back of Emma’s closet - one’s Snow had bought her and that Emma had never worn… that had been a slightly awkward few minutes as Snow remarked that they looked brand new.

“Here,” her mom said, slipping her ring off her finger and handing it over. “This is borrowed and old.” Emma stared at the green gem in front of her.

“Mom, I can’t take your ring,” she insisted.

“You’re not. You’re borrowing it,” she smiled. “This was your grandmother’s. True love follows this ring wherever it goes, Emma. She’d want you to have it, so would your father, and so do I.” Snow put the ring in her palm, closing her fingers over it and Emma knew there was no point in protesting. She slipped it onto her right hand.

“Alright. Now we just need something new… and a dress!” She looked around the house a little frantically, casting a glance at her watch.

“How about two birds with one stone,” Regina said, coming down the stairs, dressed, but looking extremely groggy. She headed straight for the coffee machine and poured herself a massive cup. Henry had already left for the Jolly with Killian, thrilled with his new role as best man. “It’s a pretty simple spell,” Regina said, taking a long sip. “I just need another dress that belongs to you and then the spell will make it new - however you want it.”

“I know the perfect one!” Snow cried running up to Emma’s room.

“Thanks,” Emma said. Sometimes this newfound friendship between her and Regina still surprised her, still felt unsteady. And, as far as she knew, Regina still hated her for getting Killian back when Robin was gone forever. This felt like a gesture - a peace offering and a step in the right direction.

“Just make sure that pirate doesn’t teach my son how to steal boats,” she quipped and Emma smiled, wondering if she should tell her that Henry had already discovered a knack for stealing cars.

Snow came down the stairs then, dress in hand, and Emma smiled, her heart warming when she recognized the pink piece she’d worn on her first date with Killian. “It’s perfect, Mom,” she said and Snow beamed.

Regina set down her mug and walked over to the dress, took it and laid it out on the table. “Okay,” she said. “Just put your hand on it and picture what you want - it doesn’t have to be specific, just an idea of the general style.” Emma wanted to comment on the fact that magic could apparently serve as a personal stylist but she didn’t.

She did as she was told, thinking of how she wanted to look when she married Killian. Regina waved her hand and the dress transformed from pink pattern to white lace and chiffon. Emma looked down at it. It was… perfect.

“It’s beautiful, Emma,” Snow said wistfully.

“It is,” Emma said. “Thank you,” she said to Regina. “Thank you both.” Snow wrapped Emma in her arms and Regina walked away, acting more annoyed by the display than she probably was.

“I’m so happy for you,” he mom whispered and Emma had to fight back tears. She never dreamed she’d have her mother at her wedding. Or her father, or a son, or even a man she loved enough to spend the rest of her life with. How much her life had changed in the few years since she’d given a ten year old a ride home. How lucky she was that she’d let him climb into her front seat. She’d thought she was bringing him home - but he’d been the one bringing her home.

Ah, she thought, pulling away and wiping at her eyes. She needed to stop thinking like that or she was going to walk down the aisle with mascara streaked down her cheeks.

“We ready to go?” Regina asked once Emma was dressed and had agreed to let her mom touch up her makeup and hair. ‘Okay but quickly!’ she’d said. Emma nodded but when Regina moved to whisk them away, she stopped her.

“Let me,” Emma said with a smile. “I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”

They appeared on the docks near the Jolly Roger. Belle, her father, and Ruby already waiting for her next to the gangplank.

“Oh, Sweetheart, you look beautiful,” David said and Emma thought for a moment he might cry. “Do I get to walk you down the aisle?” he asked a little hesitantly.

“Of course. You both do,” she said to her parents.

“I’m gonna go find Henry,” Regina said, walking off in disgust.

“Belle and I have dubbed ourselves your bridesmaids,” Ruby told her. “We figure it’s only fair since we’ve both saved your life,” she smirked. “Tink would have too but she’s performing the ceremony.”

“Sounds fair,” Emma agreed. “Just make sure she actually makes it down the aisle,” Emma said, gesturing at Belle.

“I’m not an invalid,” Belle huffed, sitting with her hand on her stomach. Had it grown? Could it do that in two days? It didn’t look like it had much room left to spare. Emma brought her hand to her own stomach for a moment but quickly snapped it back to her side when she remembered her parents were with her. She did not want to have another shotgun wedding conversation.

“Here,” Belle said, handing her a little bouquet of flowers. “Tink picked them to brighten up the place. I figured you should have them.”

“Tinkerbelle picked them?” Emma asked, with a disbelieving eyebrow raise.

Belle shrugged. “She’s a softie at heart once you get to know her.”

“You ready?” Ruby asked and Emma took a moment, breathed in, breathed out. She was getting married. This was happening. She was marrying Killian Jones on the deck of the Jolly Roger. She was marrying her true love in front of her family and her friends. All she could think about right now was him standing there, out of sight, waiting for her, waiting to promise her the rest of his life.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m ready.”

She looped each of her arms through one of her parents and let Ruby help a waddling Belle around to the bow of the ship ahead of her. She took another deep breath and nodded to her parents who guided her after them, both whispering how proud they were, how happy they were.

When they rounded the side of the helm Emma saw Killian, Henry and Tink waiting for her at the prow. When Henry saw her he dashed off to somewhere she couldn’t see and she frowned, wondering where he’d gone, before she heard music swelling around her. She recognized it from the first note. It was her song. The song. The one from the playlist. The one they'd danced to in the kitchen.

She saw Killian’s face when he looked up, when he spotted her and if there weren’t already tears in her eyes there sure as hell were now. He looked perfect. In a black suit and shirt with a few buttons undone. He was smiling, a little nervous, a little excited but so absolutely, completely in love that she could feel it radiating off of him even from this far away. She felt the tug at her heart when he first saw her, when his mouth dropped open.

She reached him and it was a moment before she could touch him as her father shook his hand, her mother kissed him on the cheek. He received both with flaming cheeks and a smile. When they went to sit after each pressing a kiss to her cheek, Killian reached for her hand.

“You’re late,” he teased. “I thought you’d changed your mind.”

She smirked at him. “Wild horses, babe. Wild horses.”

“I know when you’re quoting something,” he reminded her with amusement.

“Are you nearly done?” Tink asked, rolling her eyes. “I thought you two wanted to get married tonight. Or is that not why I was woken by a pirate in the middle of the night?”

“Nearly,” Killian said before raising Emma’s hand to his lips, catching her eye. “You are breathtaking, Emma,” he told her and the way he said it she couldn’t think of a single way to tease him. So she smiled, her cheeks flushing.

Tink gave a small speech, one that was surprisingly moving despite her cynical exterior. Emma was reminded then of how long she’d known Killian as she spoke of how when she’d met him he hadn’t cared for anything but revenge. She said that she’d never seen anyone go after something so relentlessly, so recklessly… until he met Emma and he fought for her love and fought to keep it with more strength and more commitment and determination than she’d known him capable of.

She said how when she first met Emma she’d never met someone so closed off, so afraid of love, but that she’d also never seen someone open herself up to it so willingly so fearlessly once she did.

She said, a little begrudgingly, that it was rare for two people to find their other halves, to find someone they wanted to be with enough to want it every day, to fight for it and work for it every day. But she’d seen it in them. And they could trust her on that. She was a fairy. True love was her job.

“Do you have rings?” Tink asked before proceeding and Killian’s face dropped. Emma reached out, put a hand over his heart, over their heart, over his tattoo.

“No,” she shrugged. “But we literally share a heart so I think we’re good on the symbolism.”

Killian spoke his vows first.

“Emma, I have lost you and found you more times than I can count. More times than anyone should ever have to. I know that you’ve faced abandonment in your life, and you’ve faced loss. But I promise that I will never, never stop fighting for you, for us. I’ll never stop finding my way back to you, no matter what the world throws at us. I have loved you since you held a knife to my throat and called me out as a liar, and having you choose to love me back, despite everything, is the greatest achievement of my long life, and the greatest honour. I promise to always try and live up to your love, and to love you, with my whole heart, forever.”

Fucking hell, Emma wanted to say as she dropped his hook to wipe at the tears in her eyes. But she knew that was not appropriate for a wedding. Could she just kiss him now? Was that allowed? Or did she have to wait for Tink to give them permission? She took a steadying breath, refusing to not make it through her own vows because of stupid tears.

“Killian, I’m not much for words. You know that,” she said and he smiled knowingly, his eyebrow ticking up. “But if this life, this crazy life with magic and curses that I’ve been living since I met you has taught me anything, it’s that I will always, always love you. We’ve fallen in love three times now. Three times you’ve been able to make me believe in you, trust you, when you know how hard that is for me. No matter what version of you I’ve met, whatever version of me I was, I’ve loved you. And if that tells me anything, it’s that I’ll love you always - forever. No matter what darkness or light we face in the future, it doesn’t matter because I know that we’ll face it together. Love is strength and with you I’m stronger because I know I don’t have to always be strong. With you I’m better because I know I don’t always have to do everything alone. And with you I’m - I’ve never been happier.”

Tink sighed, defeated. “Oh god, just kiss her. I know you want to.”

Killian laughed, slid his hand to Emma’s cheek and pressed his lips to hers. It was shorter than he wanted, she could tell, but they still had a ceremony to complete. “Not bad, Swan,” he quipped. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Just shut up and finish marrying me,” she said.

“As you wish,” he promised.

#stone hearts #cs fanfiction #captain swan fanfiction #cs fanfic #captain swan fanfic #cs angst #captain swan angst #cs smut #captain swan smut #cs canon divergence #ouat canon divergence #thank you <3

20 notes · View notes

stahlop · 4 years

Text

Once Upon a Time 2x14 “Manhattan” Review

Reviews 1x01 1x02 1x03 1x04 1x05 1x06 1x07 1x08 1x09 1x10 1x11 1x12 1x13 1x14 1x15 1x16 1x17 1x18 1x19 1x20 1x21 1x22 2x01 2x02 2x03 2x04 2x05 2x06 2x07 2x08 2x09 2x10 2x11 2x12 2x13

Well, holy shit! Neal and Baelfire are the same person! Who saw that coming (right, pretty much everyone)? And he’s still an asshole. Apparently Milah and Rumplestiltskin were actually in love with each other at one point, but she turned on him rather quickly. Emma is not in a good place right now. Not only has she discovered that fate is responsible for everything, but Henry has found out the truth about his father. Also, Cora wants the Dark One Dagger which can’t be good.

Summary: Emma discovers that Neal is Gold’s son and has to come to terms with that. Hook, Cora, and Regina find the map with the coordinates for the Dark One Dagger. In the Enchanted Forest, Rumplestiltskin gets called to be in the Ogres War, but a prophecy from a Seer has him taking desperate measures to go home.

Opening: NYC

Character Observations:

Rumplestiltskin/Gold: So, before he was a coward, before Milah was disgusted by the sight of him, Rumplestiltskin and Milah were actually in love. And he’s all about joining the Ogres War to prove he’s not a coward like his father (wow, let’s hope Henry doesn’t end up with the coward trait that apparently has plagued that family for the past three generations). After what I’m assuming is at least 6-7 months, Rumplestiltskin is tasked with guarding a crate for an officer who is called to the front. He is told it contains a beast that can help them win the Ogres War. It turns out to be a child who is a Seer (and she’s scary as all hell, eye sockets stitched up and actual eyes in her hands, who came up with that nightmare?). Rumplestiltskin won’t indulge hearing his future because it’s dark magic (oh the irony), but once the Seer starts talking about Milah, Rumplestiltskin is all in to hear what she has to say. He gives her water in exchange for what she has to say. She tells him Milah is already with child, a son (Rumplestiltskin is so happy about this news), but Rumplestiltskin’s actions on the battlefield tomorrow will leave him fatherless. Which he takes to mean he will die. But when the Seer refuses to give more information, Rumplestiltskin thinks she’s lying. She tells him they will meet again and he’ll help her again. He again accuses her of lying. She gives him one last vision of them riding cows into battle the next day so that he knows she is speaking the truth. She reiterates her original vision and Rumplestiltskin covers the crate back up. The next morning (early as the sun has not even risen yet), Rumplestiltskin sees injured men coming from the battlefield. A fellow soldier (also not wearing a hood of any kind) tells him they’re lucky because the only way you can go home from the Ogres War is if you’re injured and cannot fight anymore. The officer tells the troops that they have just received horses for battle. He calls the saddles cows, confirming what the Seer said about riding cows into battle. Rumplestiltskin is getting very worried now that the Seer’s vision has come true. He is convinced he will die in battle and never see Milah or meet his son. He goes to the Seer’s crate, but she is no longer there. He just happens to see a blacksmith’s mallet and decides he’s going to injure himself by bashing his knee. Why did he decide to do this before the battle? If he’d done this during the battle no one would have been the wiser that it wasn’t a battle injury and then he would’ve gone home a hero. But now we know how he got his limp and why he was branded a coward. So, apparently Rumplestiltskin had to walk home from the front on an injured knee (is that how all the injured had to get home, by walking?), and when he gets home, not only has Milah already had the baby, but she’s up and about and lost the baby weight (how long was Rumplestiltskin go for?). She does not look that happy to see him. Rumplestiltskin immediately asks what the baby’s name is before even saying hello to his wife (always with the names Rumple). When Milah tells him Baelfire, he’s ecstatic that she chose a strong name (no reasoning why she chose this name?), and that he’ll need it to live with the shame of being his son. Rumplestiltskin tries to justify his actions to Milah but she’s not having it. And here’s the Milah we’ve seen before, the one who hates her husband with the fires of 1000 suns. She brands him a coward like his father. Rumplestiltskin has had enough! His father tried to abandon him, he would never do the same to his child. Honestly, I wish we’d seen this episode before Desperate Souls, The Return, and The Crocodile, because then we’d have had great foreshadowing rather than a ‘look how much we’re going to run into the ground how Rumple loved his family, hated dark magic and would never abandon his son’ episode that shows us just how low he went by becoming the Dark One and abandoning all his ideals. Rumplestiltskin doesn’t know what Milah wanted him to do. She tells him he could have fought and died. He’s heartbroken about that, but instantly goes into loving father mode when she hands him Bae so she can go off and be alone. We next see Rumplestiltskin a little bit after Bae left, having found the Seer. He’s mad that, while what she told him was the truth, it didn’t pan out the way he thought it would. She should have told him the details. He wants to find his son. She tells him it will take many years and a curse. A curse he will not cast or break. He wants more details, she tells him she has limits. Rumplestiltskin doesn’t think that’s good enough. He tries to strangle the Seer into telling him more, but she tells him he needs to take her powers if he wants to see what he needs to do. He gladly does. He doesn’t understand it all when it hits him. The Seer tells him it’s a puzzle to be sorted and soon he’ll be able to distinguish between what could be and what will be. He accuses her of wanting to give him her power so she could be free from the torment of visions. She tells him he’ll work it all out. The Seer has one last vision before she dies which basically insinuates that Henry will be Rumplestiltskin’s undoing, whatever that means.

Gold is desperate to find his son. He has taken Emma and Henry as far as his magic could help him in finding Bae. An apartment building. Emma deduces that the one buzzer without a name belongs to his son, and he runs when they ring the bell. Gold tells Emma that the deal will be fulfilled when she brings his son back and he gets to talk with him. Henry tries to comfort Gold while they wait. Gold thanks him for bringing Emma to Storybrooke as none of this would have happened otherwise. Or you know, if Gold hadn’t been such a coward back in the day, he wouldn’t have ruined everyone’s lives by manipulating Regina into casting the curse and he could have been living with his son happily ever after. But potato, po-tah-to. Henry tells Gold that he forgave Emma for giving him up because she did what she thought was best, and his son will forgive him too. Gold tells him the situation is quite different and not so noble. Henry thinks that because he is there now his son will have to forgive him too. Gold is getting exceedingly nervous. Henry doesn’t understand why; he was excited to meet his mom (oh, to have Henry’s optimism). Gold says that life experience has shown him that things don’t always go the way you want them to. Henry starts wondering why Gold didn’t just look into the future to find out how their reunion would go. Gold explains that trying to figure out visions of the future is more like a puzzle with missing pieces; difficult to read and never what you think. Emma comes back and tells them his son got away and Gold is disappointed. But not disappointed enough that he doesn’t break into the apartment to look for clues. Emma tries to dissuade him, telling him he could get arrested, but he uses that as an excuse for his son to have to see him to either press or drop charges. Gold notices Emma looking at a dreamcatcher in the apartment so he thinks she’s not telling him something and starts yelling at her. They go back and forth with Gold accusing Emma of knowing something and Emma saying she doesn’t until he finally threatens that he’ll make her tell him. Emma reminds him he has no magic here and Gold knocks something over and says no one breaks deals with him and then Neal comes in. Gold is in visible shock when he sees his son. Gold thinks Neal came to talk to him, but Neal says he just came to make sure he didn’t hurt Emma, as he’s seen what his father does to people who break deals. Gold just wants to talk to Neal, but Neal wants him out of his apartment. Emma tries to defuse the situation, but Gold realizes the two of them know each other, and the second Henry walks in, he puts it together. And he also puts together that Neal has inherited the abandoning his son trait that all the men in Rumplestiltskin’s line seem to fall victim to. Neal wants his father out of his apartment but Gold tells him the deal was for Emma to get Neal to talk to him. Neal gives him three minutes. And then Gold goes crazy, because he actually thinks Neal will take his offer of making him 14 again, erasing his memory, and getting to live his life out with his father. What the Fuck?! Has this literally been his plan the whole time? Neal just found out he’s a father, does Gold really think he’ll abandon him to become a teenager again? Gold just wants Neal to give him a chance. He even shows him how he’s changed by coming to the Land Without Magic, but Neal calls him out by saying how he’s still trying to use magic to make up for everything. Neal tells him he’s letting him go like he let him go all those years ago. Gold tells Neal he’s sorry, but Neal doesn’t care. He walks away to go talk to Henry. We end with Gold remembering the prophecy about the boy and probably wondering what he’s going to do since ‘the boy’ has turned out to be his grandson.

Neal: Oh, god, where do I even start with Neal. His treatment of Emma is still abysmal. I’m glad he tells Gold off, because he totally deserves it, but the way he deals with Emma is just horrible. We first see him running when Emma tries to get into his apartment, so we already know he’s still shady, if someone ringing his bell causes him to panic and run. Then, when he realizes it’s Emma chasing him he actually seems happy to see her. Like what does he think is going to happen? Or is it just the fact that she’s alive and well? Then she starts questioning him and he’s confused until she mentions his father and Rumplestiltskin. Then he’s pissed that she brought his father to NYC and Emma is rightly more pissed when she tells him he doesn’t get to be angry. Emma starts peppering him with questions but he wants to get off the street (again, telling me that he’s into something shady if he doesn’t want to be seen on the street), and tells her to follow him to a bar. Emma doesn’t want to go, but then he jokes that she can continue yelling at him there. I’m glad to see his sense of humor is still in tact during this whole thing. Emma reluctantly follows. At the bar Neal tells Emma she can ask him whatever she wants (and they’ve apparently already been there long enough for Neal to order and receive a beer). Neal tells her he didn’t know who she was and August told him later. He wouldn’t have gone near her if he’d known who she was (wow, just wow!). Emma is very close to tears now, telling Neal she loved him. Neal claims he was just trying to help her by getting her home. Was there seriously no other way he could have done this? I’m sure if he’d just told her about the curse she would’ve thought he was crazy and just left him all on her own. No jail time required. Emma is still nonplussed that them meeting was a coincidence. Neal says him and Emma meeting could have messed things up with getting her to break the curse. Neal chalks it up to fate and destiny. He thinks maybe they met for a reason and something good came out of their relationship (yep, Henry, the reason Emma broke the curse). Notice that Neal never asks Emma how she got to Storybrooke or how she broke the curse. It’s still all about him and his feelings. Emma says she just ended up in jail, and she’s over it and him. Neal smiles when he sees she’s still wearing the swan keychain and calls her out on it. She tears it off and claims it was to remind her not to trust anyone ever again. Emma tries to bring him back to Gold, and Neal is upset she made a deal with him, but he’s not going back and there’s nothing she can do about it. But he does end up back at his apartment, trying to save Emma from his father. And while they’re arguing, Neal and Emma get a little too familiar with each other and then Henry comes out, calling Emma mom and Neal realizes that Henry is his son. And I get that he’s upset that he didn’t know about him and that Emma wasn’t going to tell him about Henry, but he left her and framed her and put her in jail. Emma doesn’t owe him anything! Neal wants to go talk to Emma and Henry, but Gold wants to talk to him first, which Neal doesn’t want to do until Gold tells him that’s part of the deal with Emma. So they talk, and Gold talks crazy, and nothing Gold says makes him want to forgive his father. Neal tells him that all Gold has thought about is what he, himself went through to find him, but never once has he thought about what he, his son, has been through all these years. I may not like Neal, but finally, someone is calling out Gold for his selfishness. Thank you! Neal tells him how he sees that image of his father letting go of his hand every night and how he chose magic (with a little nod to Rumplestiltskin’s gesturing) over him. Neal is done with him and tells him to get out. Here’s the thing though, I see no emotion in Neal’s face or voice. It’s like he’s talking to a wall and not his father, and I don’t know if that’s an acting choice or that the actor just couldn’t get the emotional range needed. Either way, I get more emotional over Gold’s reactions, even though he deserves it, than I do over Neal’s. Emma comes back in to tell Neal that Henry wants to meet him. Neal accuses Emma of not telling him about Henry (at this moment), and she says she wasn’t planning on telling him. Neal says Henry is his kid too so he gets some say now (no, he really doesn’t get any say, I doubt he’s even on the original birth certificate and Emma has no legal right to him at the moment), and Emma snipes at him. Neal takes a deep breath and Emma asks him not to break his heart. He claims he won’t do what his father did, and Emma reminds him that he broke her heart. Neal doesn’t even look guilty about this, he’s almost insulted that she brings it up again. He says they’re all messed up and to not let Henry get messed up too (too late). Neal apologizes to Henry for not being there before, but Henry says it’s okay because he didn’t know about him (and Neal doesn’t look guilty here either, because he should).

Emma: She is not having a good day. I mean, who would be having a good day when the person she was betrayed the most by happens to also be the son Gold wants her to find for him. So Emma discovers Neal is Gold’s son and rightly freaks out because now she thinks her whole life has been a lie. She rightly questions Neal about whether he knew who she was when they met, but Neal’s freaking out over his father having finally found him. He yells at Emma for bringing Rumplestiltskin to him, but Emma’s not having it. And I get that Neal is very pissed off at his father, but Emma has way more right to be pissed right now because her whole life has just gone off kilter. She’s already had to deal with the fact that her parents are fairy tale characters and she had to break a curse and she’s the savior, but now the guy who broke her has turned up again and happens to be connected to all the fairy tale characters that she’s just getting used to. It’s a lot to take in. So they ‘talk’. Emma is trying so hard during this conversation to not cry. You can see it in her face and hear it in her voice. She will not let her emotions take over. Emma thinks everything was a set up between them and that Neal just used her to take the fall for the watches. Neal claims if he’d known who she was when they met he never would’ve gone near her. Wow, that’s harsh. Emma’s even more pissed that he essentially ran off because August told him to. Emma is incredulous that they could’ve met if he or Gold didn’t orchestrate it, but Neal thinks it was fate, because them meeting could’ve stopped her from going to Storybrooke and breaking the curse. I’m sure Emma is thinking about how them being together is exactly how she got to Storybrooke to break the curse. Neal thinks they must have met for a reason and that something good came out of their relationship, but Emma is not going to bring Henry into this, so she lies and tells him the only thing that happened was she went to jail. She also pulls off the swan keychain she wore because she’s had her closure with Neal and doesn’t need it anymore. She’s still insistent on bringing Neal back to Gold. Neal tells her she doesn’t have to uphold her end and Emma says she knows. She’s actually looking forward to that confrontation, I can tell. But Neal won’t go and tells Emma to tell his father she lost him in the chase. If she does that, she’ll never see him again. Emma’s down with the never seeing Neal again. On the way back to Gold and Henry, Emma calls Mary Margaret because she doesn’t know what to do. She’s looking for validation to not tell Henry about his father, but Mary Margaret makes her see that Emma is not protecting Henry but protecting herself. Emma goes back to Gold and he decides to break into Neal’s apartment to wait for his son. Emma notices a dreamcatcher on the window and thinks back to when they almost took the one from the hotel room. Gold notices that she’s getting nostalgic and thinks she’s keeping something from him about his son. Emma sends Henry into the other room when Gold starts yelling and threatening her, and it looks like things are going to get violent when Neal shows up. He says he came back to protect Emma. Gold and Neal argue and Emma tries to get Neal to calm down, but accidentally calls him Neal and Gold realizes they know each other. And then all hell breaks loose when Henry enters. Emma tries to get him back in the other room, and, of course, this is one of the few times Henry decides to call Emma, mom, and then she tries to not let Henry answer when Neal asks for his age, but all is for naught because Neal figures out that Henry is his son. Emma doesn’t deny it this time, and you can see the anguish in her face when she makes the decision to let Neal know Henry is her son. Henry is mad because Emma lied to him. She says she’d hoped to never see him again, that he wasn’t a good guy, and that he broke her heart. She does not mention the fact that he framed her and put her in jail. She says she was thinking of herself and not Henry. Henry accuses her of being like Regina. Whoa! Emma is nothing like Regina. Protecting Henry from the asshole who ruined her life is one thing, manipulating and making you think you’re crazy is something else entirely. Emma doesn’t even try to defend herself, she just apologizes to Henry and then goes to get Neal when Henry says he wants to meet him. Neal gets mad because Emma wasn’t going to mention him and Emma doesn’t deny it. Seriously, why would she tell Neal about Henry? He framed her and got her put in jail! Then he gets all high and mighty about how she can’t make all the decisions because Henry’s his kid too. Emma’s done and just tells him to go talk to Henry. Emma tells him not to break his heart like he did with her. Neal doesn’t like that she called him out on that, again, but says they shouldn’t try to mess up their kid like they’re messed up. Too late. Emma watches forlornly out the window as Henry and Neal talk. I just feel so horrible for Emma at this moment. She’s finally got her family and then Neal comes out of the woodwork to mess it all up. Because we all know he’s going to mess it all up.

Regina/Cora/Hook: Meanwhile, back in Storybrooke, these three idiots are trying to find Gold’s dagger. Cora is playing the ever doting mother to Regina (and has gotten a new Storybrooke makeover in the process, and she looks so much better in modern clothing and her hair down). Regina is upset because Emma took Henry out of Storybrooke without telling her. Cora placates her by telling her Henry will be back soon, but Regina says he still won’t be with her. Hook comes in and hears that Gold is out of Storybrooke. Regina doesn’t know where he is, but Hook immediately goes into planning mode that if he’s out of Storybrooke he’s powerless and can be killed. You can just see his mind working. It’s glorious! Cora and Regina remind him that they would lose their magic too, but Hook doesn’t have magic so it’s of no consequence to him. Regina berates him about just going up and stabbing him. Hook would rather use his hook, but he hasn’t been able to find it since leaving the hospital. Cora would rather Hook stay and help them look for the Dark One dagger which can kill him in Storybrooke. Regina goes to visit Belle in the hospital to see if she has any info, but with the amnesia she’s no help, so Regina puts her to sleep. And then, instead of rifling through Belle’s purse like a normal person, she levitates everything inside until she finds a library book number written on a notecard. Regina, Cora, and Hook go looking in the library. Cora is impressed how Regina deduced where the dagger, or something that could lead them to the dagger, might be. They don’t find the book, but there is a crudely drawn map. How lucky for them that they have a pirate who can decipher maps with them. Except, when he does decipher it, Cora decides that he can’t help them anymore and knocks him out. Regina asks Cora if this is why she’s really here, to get the dagger and become the Dark One. Cora says that if they control Gold then they can make him kill the Charmings and Emma and then Henry will be all Regina’s and no one can blame them. Regina smiles at this and finds this an acceptable plan. Just, ugh! Regina is so much smarter than this. I guess without anyone in her corner (Henry, Sr.) she really just blindly follows whomever shows her the slightest hint of love, and totally bypasses all the warning signals that they are using her for their own gain. I wish I didn’t feel sorry for Regina, but she was trying to change in the first half of the season, so I really want to believe that would have continued if not for Cora. As for Hook, what does the dagger matter if you go with your original plan to kill Gold where he has no power? Get away from Cora and do what you need. I can live with just seeing Rumplestiltskin in flashbacks.

Milah: We get to see her actually in love with her husband. She’s worried for Rumplestiltskin when he gets drafted to go to war. He’s adamant that this will help him not be known as the son of a coward anymore and Milah tells him that he can’t always live in his father’s shadow. She has so much faith in him, it’s scary. She tells him to go and fight honorably and when he gets back they can start their family. Little does she know she’s already pregnant. When Rumplestiltskin arrives home, Milah’s already had the baby (he’s probably 2-3 months old) and she’s disgusted by what her husband did to get out of fighting. Rumplestiltskin insists that he did it to ensure he got home to his family, but she’d rather him died and be known as a hero than him injuring himself like a coward. For someone who was so much in love with her husband before he left, she turns on him pretty quickly. Now we see the Milah we were introduced to in The Crocodile. She’s not a happy camper that she’s now saddled to town coward, because that is what he’s now become in her’s and the town’s eyes.

Questions:

How many Ogres Wars have there been? We see one in this episode, there was another that Bae was supposed to fight in during Desperate Souls (could possibly be the same war), Belle’s kingdom made a deal with Rumplestiltskin in Skin Deep to help stop the war. That could also be the same war that Snow dealt with as she mentions to Charming that the Ogres were back in The Outsider. Has there always been an Ogres War happening or do they just happen every generation?

We’re all pretty clear that Cora has come back for the Dark One dagger and not Regina, right?

I thought the favor that Emma was doing for Gold was helping him find his son in NYC? Now it’s getting his son to talk to him as well?

In Broken Neal entered the apartment wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. What kind of trouble is he in that he still has a briefcase type job?

Why did Neal consider himself in hiding from his father? As far as he knew it was the last bean left. Why did he think his father would come after him?

All August had to show Neal was a paper with “I know you’re Baelfire” written on it? That’s what made him frame Emma and send her to jail?

How did August find out Neal was Baelfire in the first place? It’s not like he can do internet research and find a connection between the two? How did he know about Baelfire in the first place?

Why is Rumplestiltskin the only soldier not wearing a chainmail hood? I’m assuming it’s so we recognize him, but it just looks odd that he’s the only one not wearing one.

Would Emma have told Henry about Neal if he hadn’t shown up at the apartment?

I get that Cora and Hook wouldn’t know how to look up books in a library, but should Regina have that knowledge ingrained in her head from the curse?

Why would the duke send saddles made of the finest leather to the battlefield where most people are ending up injured or dead and the horses most likely to run off with the saddles still on them?

Why does Gold think there’s something up with Emma and the dreamcatcher? They literally just used one to look at Pongo’s memories like a week ago.

Was Neal waiting for the right moment to come into his apartment? It seems pretty convenient that he came in right when Gold was threatening Emma.

How does one try to abandon their child? It seems pretty clear that Rumplestiltskin’s father did abandon him as he was raised by spinsters.

Did Gold remember the undoing prophecy when Emma said they were bringing Henry with them to find his son? Did he think he was going to kill Henry before they set out on their trip?

What does ‘his undoing’ mean? Is Henry going to bring about Gold’s death? Will he release him from being the Dark One?

Observations:

Milah’s dress is the same color blue as the dress Rumplestiltskin later dresses Belle in when she’s his maid.

Hook still seems to be in pretty bad shape (considering it’s still a day or two after the accident), but Greg is walking around as if he didn’t just have chest surgery and has been discharged from the hospital.

Neal lives in apartment 407.

I know when I’m stuck in a hospital, I must make sure to have my false lashes on and mascaraed, like Belle.

When Belle asks Regina if they were friends Regina responds that they spent some time together. Yeah, she had you locked away for about 30 years total between the Enchanted Forest and Storybrooke.

Gold knows how to pick a lock.

David’s lines about how Gold can’t be Henry’s grandfather because he is and how Thanksgiving would suck are hilarious.

Greg decides to stay in Storybrooke and has managed to record Regina doing magic.

Cora calls the dagger the Kris Dagger.

We already knew that the Blue Fairy had inadvertently given Rumplestiltskin the idea for a curse in The Return, but now we know where he got the idea for moving everyone in the land with it.

Timeline:

Ok, so I don’t think this has been established in the show quite yet, but when Rumplestiltskin and Bae’s timeline is in the show has now come into question. In Tallahassee I guesstimated Neal’s age at around 23. But this is impossible if he and Rumple come from the same timeline as Snow and Charming and everyone else. If Bae went through the portal to the Land Without Magic and immediately went on living his life, he’d be much older than 23 when he met Emma. Rumple was putting the events of Snow and Charming getting together and Regina casting the curse for years, which would mean Neal would have had to have been in his 30’s or 40’s (or even older) by the time he met Emma in Portland if he’d come directly from the portal. But I’m thinking he didn’t. He would have had to have gone somewhere else first where he either didn’t age or aged slower. He also says to Gold that he has seen him letting him go in the portal for more years than he can know. Hmm, any thoughts on where that might have been?

Great episode! Emma finally got to confront Neal about what he did, but she’s also discovered that he’s Gold’s son, which means he’s from the Enchanted Forest as well. Which means what exactly? I don’t know. Will Neal come back to Storybrooke now that he knows about Henry? Will they try some sort of custody agreement? How will Regina react to all this. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled that Gold somehow procured her his own grandson to raise. I just hope that Emma doesn’t go back to Neal now that’s he’s going to be some kind of fixture in her life, because he is bad news. Don’t go for the guy who put you in jail Emma, no matter how he spins it.

Please leave comments and reblog! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future reviews.

@searchingwardrobes @thisonesatellite @justbecauseyoubelievesomething @laschatzi @profdanglaisstuff @mariakov81

#once upon a time #once upon a time review #once upon a time rewatch #once upon a time 2x14 #once upon a time manhattan

19 notes · View notes

darkobsidianquill · 4 years

Text

Harry Potter and the Descent into Darkness.

Chapter Three

He leaned back in the plush velvet armchair and sighed with heavy frustration. He fingered the book that lay rested in his lap. His tiny, bony hands were dwarfed by the ancient tome, but this wasn't because the book was especially large – rather, he was frustratingly small.

The homunculus he had crafted for himself had taken the greater part of the last year and a half to complete, and even then, it's completion wouldn't have been possible if he hadn't acquired Wormtail's services. A fact which he was loath to admit.

He was finally in a physical form that was not constantly on the brink of dissolving or dying, and he had access to his own magic once again – although it was unstable, and use of it exhausted him quickly.

He hated existing like this. It was a tease. Granted, it was better than that half-life he had existed in before this – but he was so close, and yet so far away from being returned to a fully functional body and finally being able to focus back on his tasks. Being in this form gave him a taste of what it was like to finally have a body back, but the body itself was so pathetic and weak, it only served to frustrate and anger him.

He needed the boy's blood to properly complete the ritual he had designed. He couldn't afford to allow that ridiculous protection of his to continue, and only the use of the boy's blood would do that. He had to admit that he did not fully understand the nature of the protection gifted to the boy by his mother. That ignorance frustrated and angered him greatly.

He feared that it's existence, and the mystery behind it, were in some way linked to that damned prophecy. He needed to rid himself of that threat so that he could resume his work! It was too important for him to be vanquished by some ignorant child, who was only acting blindly on the orders of that frustratingly mad old man!

But waiting for the right opportunity to act was maddening.

And to compound things, he was bored. Horribly, terribly bored.

He looked back down at the book in his lap and sighed. He had read it decades ago. Rereading it now was only mildly interesting. He wanted to send Wormtail to fetch some more books, but he couldn't risk his servant being seen by the public. It was already risky enough when he sent him into the nearby muggle village to fetch supplies and things. He would have to wait until Barty was able to return to him again.

Ah, Barty... unrelenting loyalty. The man worshiped him, unquestioningly. He had been so fortunate to discover his servant was still alive and well... or as well as one can be after several years in Azkaban and then many more years under the imperius, locked away in his father's home. Despite Barty's mildly questionable sanity, he knew he could rely on Barty's loyalty.

Wormtail, in contrast, stayed entirely out of his own cowardice. The man was terrified of his own shadow. It was pathetic. He wished he could call a more competent servant to his side, but he could not risk it. Not yet. He was still too weak, and his servants were all too power-hungry and ignorant of the bigger picture. If they sensed his weakness they could easily try to take advantage of it, and he would be in no position to stop them. And then he would have to start this entire frustrating process over again like he had after the Brat had destroyed Quirrell.

Stupid, pathetic Quirrell. But he had still made a better servant that Wormtail. He sneered the name with utter disgust in his mind. It was such a sad, pathetic state of affairs that he had been reduced to relying on such a loathsome little rat. Disgusting.

Soon... soon he would be returned to his full glory. He would gather his old followers and retain new blood. He needed to restore power to the dark and dismantle the mountain of damage that the fool, Dumbledore had caused in his blind lunacy.

He could only hope he was not too late. His work was imperative, had he felt the crush of time working against him. He had to complete his tasks and set things back into balance, or they would all be doomed, light and dark together. How Dumbledore could willingly ignore the signs of his own idiotic destruction was beyond him. The man was a fool. His ideals would damn them all.

And he would not go down with the muggles. No. He would fight to return magic to it's rightful place, even if he had to claw his way there, tooth and nail. It was his sworn duty, and he would neglect that duty no longer.

He just needed time... But time was working against him. It had been working against him for so, damn, long.

He sighed in frustration again, wishing he could find a way to speed things up. He dug deep inside himself to touch upon the darkest of his magics. The magic that was his, and his alone. The magics that he was gifted by Magic herself as a part of his task.

This magic had never left him, but without corporeal form, there was little he could do with it. At least it had provided him with the strength to pull his homunculus together.

He pulled the magic out and swirled it around himself, relishing in the knowledge that he could still do this, at least. And he would only grow in strength as time passed.

Ah... there it was again. Time. Always time. Everything took time, and yet he had so little patience left.

He pulled out another surge of the magic and chuckled lightly at the rush it filled him with. This was power. Power that only he could properly wield.

Lovely delicious power. And he would use it to restore the world to the way it was meant to be. He just needed time.

– –

Harry woke with a gasp that instantly shifted into a moan as his back arched off the bed. Magic rushed through him in his startled state and it danced along his skin like little sparks of lightening.

As he regained his focus the surge dissipated like a pleasant breeze and he let out a breathy sigh. He blinked through heavy lids and furrowed his brow as he tried to sift through his memories to make sense of what had just happened.

He was being held by his companion. They had stood there together for... for ages. And it had been wonderful...

And then... and then, he was sitting in that study again. The chair was nice. The fabric had been elegant and soft and there was a fire in the fireplace to the left. He was reading a book.

What a brilliant book... fascinating things... tempting things...

I wonder if there's a place in school where I could try out a few of those spells...

But he had felt bored with it. He had read it before... long ago... and his sense of impatience with having to wait had been too frustrating to allow him to focus on the blasted book. He needed...

Harry sat up.

Bloody hell!

It had felt so real. He remembered it as if it had been he, himself, there. Hell, he had sat here for nearly three solid minutes going over the memories before he even realized he was Voldemort!

Harry shook his head. No! No, he wasn't Voldemort. He had simply been seeing through Voldemort's eyes.

And hearing his thoughts. Thinking his thoughts. As if they were my own. Thoughts and feelings that had felt entirely my own. And the magic! It was... it was incredible!

Harry felt shaken and took in a deep breath. He wished his companion was there. He didn't like the way he felt just then. He wrapped his arms around himself, missing the warmth of being in his companion's embrace.

He wanted that warmth back. He needed it. Needed it so he didn't feel alone. He didn't want to feel alone anymore. Never alone. Never again.

Just as his body was beginning to shake and shiver with his irrational wave of loneliness, the presence appeared in his mind and he sighed in relief.

Harry...?

"You're here," Harry breathed in a whisper as he smiled and let himself fall back against his pillows.

What... happened?

Harry shook his head and laughed weakly at the ridiculousness of his almost-panic attack.

"I'm okay," Harry thought in his mind.

What happened? His companion repeated, his silken voice more steady now.

"I... I had a vision."

You saw... through his eyes...?

Harry nodded his head, even though he was laying in his bed all alone and conversing with a person inside his mind. "Yes."

This... upset you? Did you see something... you didn't like?

Harry shook his head and sighed. "No, nothing like that. He was just sitting in the lounge reading. I think what really upset me was that I didn't even realize it was him and not me. I should be able to tell the difference between his mind and mine... you know?"

Do not dwell on it. Harry.

It is over...

...I am here.

Harry smiled as he felt the warmth of his companion embrace his mind, and a glorious shudder danced through his belly at the silken breathy words.

Finally Harry pushed himself out of bed and pulled back the hangings on his bed. His dorm mates were all still asleep. It was early, but a quickly cast tempus told him that breakfast would be served in an hour. He could take a nice long shower and soak up the hot water without having to share the bathroom with his dorm mates – all of whom tended to sleep till the last possible minute.

Harry collected his toiletries, pulled on a loose robe over his boxers and made his way into the bathroom.

He set his things aside and stripped down. He turned and his eye caught the mirror to the side and for some reason... he stopped. He stood there and looked at himself. He rarely did this. He didn't like looking at himself. Harry had never had a very positive self-image. A decade of malnourishment and neglect had left him scrawny and boney. He was short for his age too, and he knew it was entirely the result of being denied proper food for so long.

He had decent enough muscle tone. Years of manual labor around the Dursley's house and yard, compounded with three years of Quidditch had at least given him that. But he was still disgustingly thin. He could easily see his ribs and his collarbones were too obvious.

He wondered suddenly if there was something he could do about it with magic. He was a wizard, after all!

But a glamor wouldn't be sufficient. He didn't want to hide, or disguise his appearance. He wanted to actually fix it. Correct the damage done by those disgusting muggle pigs.

Potions...

The voice whispered and he blinked in surprise and then blushed lightly. He had forgotten that he wasn't really 'alone' in the bathroom. Here he was, standing totally starkers in front of a mirror...

The presence chuckled at his sudden wave of bashfulness, and Harry managed to recover and quickly turned away from the mirror. He walked over to the shower, started the water and ducked under the spray. It was the perfect temperature. It was always the perfect temperature.

I love magic...

Harry began to lather shampoo into his hair and refocused on what his companion had said.

"So a potion, huh?" He mentally asked.

There are... several. Must be taken... schedule. Over time.

Harry nodded his head. That made sense. If it was going to be a real physical change, it probably wouldn't be instantaneous. It was probably better if it was a gradual change, anyway. If he suddenly changed overnight, people would notice.

I will guide you... to the books. Go to the... library... later.

Harry grinned.

He was looking forward to this. The prospect of being able to fix at least something that the damned muggles had done to him left him with an eager skip to his step. He quickly finished with the bathroom and returned to his dorm. He dressed in his robes and slipped out and headed for breakfast. There were still several hours before Transfiguration. If he ate quickly enough, he could probably do some quick book searching before he had to be to class.

– –

His visit to the library had been partially successful. He had left with two different books on potions but the one that would be the most useful was apparently in the restricted section. He planned to come back that night with his invisibility cloak. He probably could have gotten permission from one of his teachers to search the restricted section for something to aid him prepare for the next task, but he still had absolutely no idea what the next task was, since he still couldn't figure out what to do with the blasted egg.

He needed to figure that out soon too...

Harry rushed through the halls, half-sprinting, towards the Transfiguration classroom. He had lost track of time and class would be starting soon. He bolted in through the door just as the chime rang and he quickly slipped into a seat in the back row, heaving a sigh of relief.

Hermione was turned around in her seat, looking at him with concern and a bit of obvious disapproval at arriving so late. Her glare was broken when McGonagall cleared her throat and called the class to attention.

Instead of heading straight into lecture mode, however, McGonagall announced that the sign-up sheet for those staying in the school over the holidays had just been posted in the common room.

"Now before you all make your decision, I should let you all know of one very important development for this year's holiday festivities. This year, Hogwarts will be playing host to a Yule Ball," McGonagall paused and looked around the room of Gryffindors. The girls' eyes all lit up with excitement, while the boys' faces filled almost instantly with dread.

"The Yule Ball, as the name denotes, is first and foremost, a dance. It will be held on Christmas Eve, and anyone in fourth year and above is welcome to attend. Third years can attend if they have a date from forth or above."

At this point, eager whispering and tittering had filled the room, but a sharp glare from McGonagall brought silence to the room.

A few minutes more passe and McGonagall had concluded her announcements and started the actual transfiguration lesson. Harry wasn't sure exactly what to think of the Yule Ball. He had absolutely no desire to deal with some damned dance and wondered if he could get away with just skipping the thing, even though he would be staying for the holidays. He quickly refocused on the actual classwork, and had almost completely forgotten about the Yule Ball when class drew to a close.

"Mr. Potter, please stay behind," McGonagall said, as Harry began to pack up his book, parchment and quill. Harry frowned but nodded and finished collecting his things and went over to stand by her desk.

"You wanted something, Professor?" Harry asked as soon as the last student had left the room.

"Yes. I wanted to inform you that, as one of the Tri-Wizard champions, you and your date will be expected to partake in the traditional waltz at the start of the ball. Are you going to be in need of assistance preparing for this? I will be holding dancing lessons this weekend for those students who need them."

Harry blinked.

"Wait... do I have to go to the ball?" Harry asked quickly.

McGonagall pursed her lips and frowned. "Yes, Mr. Potter. Of course. You are one of the champions. Your attendance is mandatory."

Harry groaned, and internally grumbled.

Great... just great.

"Oh... alright," he mumbled, trying to push aside some of his bitter irritation. He sighed heavily and looked back up at his professor. "Um... yeah, I guess I'll probably need those... lessons," he said in a flat, grumble.

"Alright, Mr. Potter. The dancing lesson will be held Saturday at 3pm."

Harry gave her a rather fake smile and his thanks and bid her farewell before racing from the room and making his way to Defense.

– – –

"Blimey, mate! Can you believe it? A dance! Ugh!" Ron said as he sat down heavily on the bench beside him that evening at dinner.

Harry looked over at Ron with a raised eyebrow but didn't immediately respond. Ron had tried this tactic several times already; talking to Harry as if nothing had ever happened between them, in hopes that Harry would act the same as before and they could go back to the way things used to be.

Harry sighed heavily, resigning himself to the tedium of a conversation with his ginger dorm mate. He wasn't going to take the boy back as a friend, but even Harry realized that he had been terribly anti-social lately. He barely spoke to anyone outside of mandatory class interactions. Burning every bridge he had was not a wise tactic. He didn't personally care what people thought of him, but he wasn't stupid enough to think that social standing and public opinion didn't matter.

"Yeah... a dance," Harry said unenthusiastically as he stabbed his fork through a pork sausage.

Ron's face lit up slightly with hope at finally having gotten some sort or response out of Harry and he pressed on. "So I guess this means we have to get dates, then."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Dates," he grumbled and frowned. He really didn't like that idea at all. He wasn't even vaguely interested in anyone in the school. Forcing himself to ask some random girl, he didn't even give a damn about, on a date was just annoying.

"Any idea who you want to ask?" Ron asked, desperately trying to prod the conversation forward.

Harry sighed and leaned away from the table slightly. He looked around the great hall, hoping that his eyes would just fall upon a good candidate right then and there and save him the hassle of having to actually think about it.

His brief search wasn't coming up with anything and he sighed, resigned to having to actually put some thought behind this choice when he caught sight of a gaggle of blue robes, lead at the head by Fleur Delacour.

Harry grinned. "Maybe I'll ask Fleur," he snickered before looking back down at his plate and doing another violent thrust of his fork into the poor defenseless sausage.

Ron hiccoughed in shock, choking slightly on his pumpkin juice, and looked at Harry as if he were mad. "You're joking, right?" His voice cracked.

Harry looked up at Ron with a perfectly straight poker-face for almost a whole minute before it broke into a wide grin and he laughed and shook his head.

"Yeah, Ron. Probably," he said with a smirk.

Although, he added, mentally to himself, it would be rather humorous if the one guy in the entire school who honestly didn't give a damn about the half-veela was the one who got to go to the ruddy dance with her.

Maybe he would ask. Just to see what she'd say. If she turned him down – which she probably would... he was only fourteen, after all – then no big deal. It certainly wouldn't break his heart, and then he could just ask some other chit.

But if she actually said yes, maybe during the damned dance he could find out if she had figured out her egg yet. People make eye contact when dancing. It'd be a simple matter to slip into her mind and find any information on the next task.

A wry grin spread across his lips. It wasn't a bad plan.

His companion's presence grew in his mind, and Harry felt his agreement and heard a quiet, chuckle.

Definitely a good plan.

– –

The next day Harry waited at the entrance to the great hall, leaning against the wall with the potions book he had stolen from the restricted section the night before. He was reading it while also keeping an eye out for the gaggle of French girls. They usually arrived pretty early so as to avoid the crowds of drooling, hormone-driven boys who tended to stalk them on a regular basis.

Seeing as how this was the day after the ball was announced, it seemed pretty likely that they would be assaulted.

Hell, Harry was planning the very same damned thing. He just hoped to do it without looking like a total arse.

He had read all the way through the instructions on the first potion he was hoping to brew to start correcting his pathetically undersized body, and was about to start re-reading the steps again just to make sure he caught all the little details he would need to make sure were just right before hand, when he caught the sight of pale-blue out of the corner of his eye.

He pushed off the wall, closed the book and slid it into his bag. He assumed a confident stance and a calm, but self assured grin.

Confidence was key. But not arrogance. It was an exact balance, and he would have to pull it off just right or else he would be just another 'stupid little boy' vying for the veela's attention.

As the girls drew closer several of them eyed him warily, a few of them even looked at him rather angrily. Fleur's face remained mostly passive, with a tinge of curiosity.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle Delacour," Harry said with a slightly cocky grin and a small bow, "I was wondering if I could possibly ask for a moment of your time?" he asked as he stood straight again and grinned rather cheekily.

Fleur's eyebrow rose the smallest fraction, but so did the corner of her lips. She seemed to consider him for a moment before she nodded and sent a quick look to the girls around her that silently told them to wait for her.

Harry waved his hand to the side the two stepped away from the group to a marginally more private spot, about ten feet away.

"You wanted som'sing, Monsieur Potter?" she asked a moment later.

"Yes, I was wondering if you might consider attending the Yule Ball with me," Harry said with easy confidence and a simple, but honest-looking smile. There wasn't the slightest hint of fear or uncertainty in any of his words or actions. He could tell from the look in her eyes that she found this rather surprising. That or she was just stunned that a stupid little 14-year old would have the balls to ask her at all.

"You want me to go to zee ball wis you?" she asked with a mixture of shock, and amused curiosity in her eyes.

"That is the general idea, yes," Harry said with a quick nod and a grin. "Are you interested?"

She eyed him for a long minute, and Harry realized that she was honestly considering it.

"I will take your proposition under consideration," she said finally. "I do have other interested suitors, as I'm sure you are aware."

Harry smiled and chuckled quietly. "Oh, I'm sure there are plenty of others dying to ask you. Older boys. Perhaps even better looking guys, although I find that one hard to imagine," he said airily with his nose slightly in the air, before smiling widely and snickering. "Although I guarantee that none of them will be nearly as entertaining company. Still, I understand completely," Harry said giving her another little bow of his head. She actually laughed lightly and Harry's smirk only grew in response. "Do try not to keep me hanging for too long though."

"Of course. Zhat would be rude. I will let you know as soon as I have made my choice."

Harry grinned again and nodded his head. "Thank you."

She smiled back at him, an amusement twinkling in her eyes. "You seem greatly changed zince zee start of term, Monsieur Potter."

Harry playfully rolled his eyes. "Well, being forced into a deadly tournament does wonders to motivate a person to grow up a bit. I've had some pretty powerful changes in my life over the past two months," he ended with an easy dismissive shrug.

"Your performance wis zee dragons was quite surprising. I was unaware zat you were a parseltongue. Quite a rare talent, zat is."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Harry said with another dismissive gesture before he leaned in a spoke in a mock conspiratorial whisper, "I used to try and keep it real quiet because all those whispers about me being a dark wizard used to make me idiotically self-conscious, but I've sort of gotten over that," he finished with a chuckle.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Let them believe what they want. It's a talent I possess and I'm not going to shun a perfectly legitimate skill just because some people are a little creeped out by it."

"Hm," she made a small approving noise and grinned at him. He grinned back, a little wider.

She rolled her eyes at him, but her smile only grew.

"I must be going. My friends are waiting and we have breakfast to attend to."

"Of course," Harry bowed and waved his hand out, motioning her back towards the entrance where her friends still stood, whispering furiously. Quite a crowd of other students seemed to have collected there as well.

She laughed at him and shook her head. "You are very amusing, Monsieur Potter."

"Please, call me Harry," he said as he began to walk beside her, back towards her friends.

"Alright, 'arry," she said. "I will let you know when I make my decision.

"Thank you."

The entered the great hall and parted ways – Fleur and the other Beauxbatons girls heading towards the table specially setup for them, and Harry, confidently striding towards the Gryffindor table. Dean was the only one from his year already there, and he was gaping at Harry with his jaw so far open, it was practically resting on the table.

Harry sat down and quickly began loading up his plate, as he pretended to be oblivious of all the jealous pairs of eyes, currently trained on him. The smirk wouldn't leave his lips though.

His encounter with the French girl had been amazingly easy. Harry chuckled as he thought of how utterly impossible that would have been a mere two months prior.

Merlin, he was glad he wasn't that stupid, weak little idiot anymore.

– – –

Each day that passed, his companion was able to stay with him for longer and longer periods of time during the days, and the smoother and easier his words came. By the end of the week, they were almost able to hold a fluid conversation for nearly half an hour before his companion grew tired and had to retreat back into Harry's mind.

Harry asked his companion why he would grow tired so easily after speaking to Harry when he was awake, and he responded by saying that in order to stay in Harry's outer awareness he had to draw from Harry's magic. He explained, in his broken whispery way, that Harry's magic, and his magic were not entirely compatible, and it took a lot of strength for the him to use that energy. But that relaying actual words, instead of emotions, took more strength than he possessed on his own.

However, he told Harry that as each day passed, the two magical sources grew more and more alike, and the easier it became for him to tap into Harry's power core, which was why he was slowing able to stay longer and say more.

Harry wasn't entirely sure what to make of that revelation, and wondered if he should be concerned that his magic type was becoming more like that of his companions... and what the bloody hell that even meant.

He suspected that it was related to how his once-white mindscape was slowly turning gray. But he couldn't quite bring himself to think it was a bad thing. The further the mottled gray area spread, the more comfortable he felt there.

For a while now he had been feeling that the white had been too bright. Whenever he entered his mindscape, he hurriedly retreated to the dark corner and buried his face in his companion's embrace. He hated looking out into the white expanse. It was blinding, and annoying. It had started irritating him with it's brightness, and as more and more of it was shifted to gray, he felt more and more content and comfortable.

He wanted it to change faster. He was sick of the whiteness.

–

Harry owl-ordered the apothecary in Hogsmeade with a list of ingredients that he would need for the three different potions he planned to make. They replied telling him that they could provide all that he needed, except for the Re'em blood, which they didn't carry. They recommended an apothecary in Knockturn Alley called Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary that specialized in exotic magical animal parts, which Harry was grateful for.

Harry was also in need of some Runespore eggs for the potion he got out of the restricted section book, but he had known better than to ask the Hogsmeade apothecary for that.

Runespores were protected, so it was actually illegal to sell their eggs. They were still traded on the black market, of course, but Harry didn't exactly have any idea how to contact someone like that.

Perhaps this Mr. Mulpepper from Knockturn Alley would be of some help.

Harry penned a response to the Hogsmeade Apothecary confirming the order, and then another one to Gringotts, asking them to transfer the needed funds directly to the proprietor. Once the apothecary had their money, they would send Harry a parcel with the specified ingredients and he could begin his brewing on two of the three potions.

He was thankful that none of the potions he needed to make were as annoying to make as Polyjuice potion had been. No ingredients that had to be picked at the full moon, or had to go through a month long simmering time.

No. All three potions he planned to make could be brewed in a matter of hours, and ready to begin a consumption schedule immediately after.

He couldn't wait.

But of course, he had to wait, since he was still missing two key ingredients to the most important potion of the batch.

He quickly penned a letter to the shop in Knockturn Alley under the alias, Notechus Noir. He went with Noir with regards to his godfather Sirius, since noir meant 'black' in French. His companion suggested Notechus. It was the Latin name for the tiger snake, and his companion said it suited him – although how, Harry really couldn't fathom. His companion also made helpful suggestions on what exactly to say, and how to say it to get what he wanted without garnering excess suspicion. Hopefully it would work, and he would be able to get his Runespore eggs without considerable hassle.

– –

That Saturday brought the dancing lessons, and a surprisingly large number of Gryffindors had shown up for them. Apparently their head of house had been rather insistent. She didn't want her lions all looking like a bunch of uncoordinated buffoons at the ball.

The girls were all eager and giggly, while the boys were awkward and embarrassed. Harry had to fight to hold in his laughter at how idiotic his fellow boys were acting. They were practically oozing terror, and when instructed to place their hand on their partner's waist, most of them looked as if they had just been told to stick their hand in a vat of boiling acid.

Harry had actually been the first guinea pig since, when McGonagall had asked for a volunteer to dance with her to demonstrate to the rest of the class, he had been the only one willing to do it.

The twins whistled and shouted catcalls to him, and he winked at them, and gave his head of house a low bow before taking her hand and placing his hand upon her waist without the slightest hesitation.

Inside he was laughing wildly at the stunned looks of his fellow classmates.

It was just their bleedin' professor! Sure, the woman was old enough to be his grandmother, but it wasn't like she was going to bite.

Harry's movements were rather jerky at first as he tried to remember the steps, and keep in time with the music at the same time, but he caught on quickly enough and McGonagall gave him a small approving smile.

It was shortly after that, that she had forced the rest of the gathered students to partner up and began spouting off instructions to each of them. Harry waited to the side while she walked around the group, giving specific advice to those struggling the most... which was most of them, honestly. Harry observed and made mental notes of what to try and what to specifically avoid, as well as who to avoid on the dance floor, so as not to get knocked down.

Finally McGonagall made her way back over to him and he led her back onto the dance floor with a mild chuckle.

He easily re-found his groove and slipped into a comfortable rhythm.

"I must say, Mr. Potter; I'm quite impressed. You've caught on quickly."

Harry smirked. "Thank you professor. I do try."

She raised an eyebrow, but he could see the corner of her mouth twitching against the urge to smile. "Yes, apparently so," she replied dryly, only making Harry smile wider. "I actually wanted to commend you. Your class performance this last month or so has seen a great improvement. Your written work has taken a dramatic turn for the better as well."

"Yes, well, having to go up against people three years older than me in a tournament practically designed to kill me is great motivation to study harder," Harry said with a mild air of sarcasm.

"I imagine it would be. I'm proud of how you seem to be handling the pressure, although I have also noticed that you don't seem to be on speaking terms with many of your classmates."

"I would say that they are not on speaking terms with me."

"Not even Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger? The three of you always seemed so close, but I never see you with them anymore. I never see you with anyone these days, Mr. Potter. I must admit I'm a bit worried about you."

Harry felt himself tense up and had to fight to keep a scowl from spreading across his face. He wanted to know what she was thinking and realized this was a great opportunity to see if he could pull off the mental scan while dancing. He didn't have his wand in his hand, and wouldn't have it at the ball either. His companion had told him he could do it if he focused enough. He decided to try it.

He tilted his head up and made eye contact. He called his magic to him and slipped into her mind with surprising ease. He only barely brushed the surface of her thoughts. Krum had been able to tell that he was in the Bulgarian's mind, and Harry didn't doubt that a professor as old and experienced as McGonagall might have some more definite sense of a magical invasion into her mind than the students he had tried this on so far had. So he wasn't willing to risk exposure by delving too deep. Just the same, he wanted to know what the professor thought about his recent social behavior so he lingered, picking out bits and pieces as she thought them.

Withdrawn. Anti-social. Brooding. Easily angered. She'd seen him snap at several people over the last week. She had also seen him bite back with some rather nasty retorts when a couple Slytherins tried taunting him about the latest Skeeter article. She was also concerned about his behavior towards some of the Hufflepuffs. Part of her thought that maybe he was depressed, however there was another little voice that thought his 'symptoms' were also reminiscent of other, darker, problems. The phrase dark magic kept flitting through her mind, surrounded by concern. He pulled out and scowled.

"They've been giving you a hard time, haven't they?" she asked in a softer, quieter tone that surprised him a bit with how much it sounded like she actually cared. He blinked at her, not entirely sure how she expected him to respond to that.

"Yeah, well the whole accusation that I cheated to get my name into the cup was pretty bad on it's own – and of course no one believed me when I said I didn't do it. Then there was that ridiculous article from Skeeter that came out, only making things that much worse. And even after I scored the highest in the first task, the fact that I used parseltongue to do it only bred paranoia and a new wave of rumors about me going dark," Harry said with a dramatic roll of his eyes and a chuckle, hoping his blasé approach to the subject would assuage some of her paranoia.

Professor McGonagall gave him a hard look. "Yes... about that..."

"Oh not you too," Harry groaned and stopped waltzing, so he could look at her better. "Do you believe that parseltongue is dark?" he asked, flat out. Several people around them heard and quite a few eyes landed on them.

McGonagall's eyes darted around and she frowned at several people, giving them a look that said 'keep dancing!' and they all instantly dispersed. Of course they still stayed within earshot, and continued to shoot the two of them furtive glances.

"I suppose not, Mr. Potter, although very little is actually known about parseltongue. Those who possessed the skill did not often share information on it," she said finally as she refocused on him. "Still, I don't think that you should be exerting your efforts towards pursuing that branch of magic."

"Why not?" Harry asked, crossing his arms and giving her a fairly indignant glare. He wasn't going to let her get away without giving him an honest answer.

"While it is true that parseltongue might not actually a dark talent, most wizards who possessed the skill were dark wizards."

"So being able to speak and understand parseltongue, instantly makes me dark?" Harry responded, indignantly.

"No, of course not. I simply mean that the spells that were created, specifically with parseltongue in mind, were created by dark wizards, and as such, are dark spells."

"Well I didn't even use any spells in the first task," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

She blinked at him, apparently surprised and confused by this statement. "You didn't?"

"No! Well, I did cast those fireproofing spells on my clothing, and the fire shield that I kept on my forearm before hand, but those were just normal spells. The parseltongue stuff was simply me telling the dragon that the gold egg in it's nest was an imposter's egg and that if it hatched it would eat all of her eggs. I told her I was going to take it away and promised not to harm any of her eggs while I collected it. Dragons are related close enough to serpents that they still speak and understand a variant of parseltongue. I had the added benefit of having gotten the Chinese Fireball. Asian dragons are the closest of the dragon races to serpents and understand parseltongue almost perfectly. All I did was talk to it."

"That's it?" McGonagall responded, surprised.

"Yes. That was it," Harry said in a tone that booked no question of his honesty. Of course he was lying through his teeth. He had used quite a lot of persuasive and confunding magic while sending out those parseltongue commands. But McGonagall didn't need to know that, and neither did the group of people who were currently standing around them eavesdropping.

"Hmf," McGonagall made a small, surprised noise in her throat but then nodded her head. "Very well then. Still, I wouldn't recommend any extensive pursuit in the field of parselmagic."

"How could I? It's not like there are any books on the subject in the library," Harry said, rolling his eyes as he stepped forward and resumed his earlier position and they began to dance again.

She continued to make minor corrections to his form, and timing, but quickly told him he had a very solid foundation and left him so she could make another pass around the room to help the others.

Harry stood off to the side and relaxed against the wall. His companion joined him in his mind and the pair of them had a silent running commentary on how idiotic most of his classmates looked as they bumbled their way around the large dance floor.

Surprisingly enough, Neville was doing the best out of the forth year boys. The twins and Lee Jordan were having a pretty easy time of it too, but they were all confident enough that even when they messed up, they were able laugh it off, recover, and cover it up quickly.

Most of the girls looked frustrated and annoyed with whatever boy they had gotten stuck with as a dance partner, although plenty of them still looked nervous and unsure enough to make plenty of the mistakes themselves.

"What are you doing over here all on your own?" Hermione's voice broke through his internal snickering and he turned his head to see her walking up and lean against the wall beside him.

"McGonagall said I had a good handle on things and she needed to start making rounds to help the others. What about you?"

"Ron got embarrassed and is currently sulking against the wall over that way somewhere," Hermione said, nodding her head towards the opposite side of the room.

Harry snickered. "Yeah, well he looked like he was doing a pretty pathetic job of it. I'm amazed he even showed up to this thing." Harry chuckled and then looked back over at Hermione. She was looking wistfully at the couples still dancing.

"Want to have another go at it?" he asked, motioning towards the dance floor with his hand.

She looked stunned by the offer for a moment before smiling shyly and nodding her head.

He chuckled and shook his head as he pushed off the wall and lead her onto the dance floor.

It was odd dancing with Hermione, but not really as odd as it had been to dance with his head of house, so Harry quickly got over any weirdness he felt in the situation.

Their movements were a bit awkward at first, but Harry quickly found his comfort zone and Hermione caught on quickly enough thanks to his surprisingly impressive skill at leading. Once they had gotten into a comfortable rhythm, Harry figured he'd make some small talk. That was part of the deal, and he needed to be able to dance and talk at the same time if he was going to be Fleur. She would expect it..

"So... you excited for this whole dance thing?" he asked, not really caring about the answer.

She smiled shyly and nodded her head. "Yes, I think I am, actually."

"Anyone asked you yet?" he asked, mildly more curious now. He wondered if Ron might have done it... but instantly dismissed the thought. Ron was far to thick to realize that Hermione was actually a girl.

Hermione blushed slightly and her smile widened a bit. Harry smirked. "Ah, someone has then, huh? Anyone I know?"

She pulled her lip in between her teeth, as if she were seriously debating whether or not to tell him. He couldn't quite imagine why she might be hesitant to tell him and wondered if she was embarrassed about it. He dug into himself and pulled out another hefty collection of his magic, preparing for another wandless attempt at mind-reading. The magic made his stomach do flipflops and he felt a little giddy at the rush. He almost stumbled a bit at the exquisite surge of power, but managed to recover and resume dancing without interrupting the flow too badly.

She looked up with a curious frown, clearly confused by his sudden stumble, and the odd shudder to his breath. As their eyes made contact he slipped into her mind and began to dig through her memories. This was a much deeper intrusion than he had been willing to risk with his head of house, but he was confident that Hermione wouldn't notice a thing. Finally he came across a mental image of Viktor Krum, standing over her, surrounded by the library stacks. He was stumbling over his English a bit, and actually managed to look awkward and nervous – something Harry found rather surprising for the always overbearingly confident Bulgarian. Harry picked out the words Yule Ball in the jumbled memory, and saw Hermione blushing, ducking her head and nodding as a large smile spread across her lips.

He pulled out of her mind and blinked in surprise.

Surely not...? Krum? Really! He almost laughed.

"I think I'm going to keep it a secret, if you don't mind," Hermione was saying as a small, secret, smile spread across her face.

Harry chuckled and shrugged. "Fine with me. Keep your secrets," he said in a joking tone as he continued to recover from his shocking discovery.

Viktor Krum! With Hermione! Hah!

Harry could feel his companion chortling in the back of his mind too.

"What about you? Do you have anyone in mind to ask?" Hermione said, squaring her shoulders and taking on a more confident posture.

"Already asked someone, actually. She's got a lot of potential suitors lined up though, so she said she'd let me know when she picks someone," he ended with a chuckle.

"Oh? Who?"

"Fleur," Harry said with a wide, amused grin. Hermione looked stunned.

"You asked Fleur!" she apparently found this even more shocking than he had found the whole Krum thing.

He nodded his head and laughed lightly. "Yup. Did it the morning after McGonagall told us all about the ball."

Hermione's face instantly shifted to concern. "You didn't make a fool of yourself, did you?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

Harry snorted. "Hardly. Honestly that whole veela-thing doesn't really effect me any. It's kind of funny to watch the other blokes falling down over themselves like blathering idiots though."

Hermione gave him a skeptical look. "If the 'veela-thing' doesn't effect you, why did you ask her?"

"Thought it'd be funny, honestly. I mean, the whole male population of the school is infatuated with her. I thought it'd be humorous if the one guy here who isn't obsessed with her was the one who got to go with her to the dance. Plus, I imagine she would probably enjoy going to the event with someone who could still manage to talk, instead of just drooling over her the whole time."

Hermione looked at him with a rather disbelieving look. "So your not infatuated with her?" she repeated, skeptically.

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Not even the slightest."

"But... well, why not? I mean, I don't understand the draw behind it, of course, but I'm a girl. I understand that it's a very powerful sort of magic and very few can fight it very well. A veela's aura supposedly calls to men like a moth to flame. It's why all the boys get so dumb around her. Why wouldn't you get all dumb around her too?"

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but stopped for some reason. He paused and for the first time since Hermione and Ron had ditched him after Halloween, he considered confiding in her.

As the words flitted through his mind, he suddenly knew they were true and he almost laughed as he was struck with the powerful realization. He didn't though. Instead he met Hermione's eyes and smiled softly.

"Honestly, Hermione?"

She nodded her head, prodding him to continue.

He sighed but his lips were still graced with a soft, resigned smile. "Honestly... I don't think I fancy girls."

Hermione blinked at him with obvious confusion on her face. "You don't –" she began to say when her lips parted suddenly in surprise and realization dawned in her eyes. "You... you mean you fancy –"

"Blokes? Yeah... yeah, I think so," Harry said with a shrug and an unusual accepting honesty in his eyes.

"Oh... oh, Harry," Hermione said, coming to a stop and looking up into his green eyes. "How long have you known?" she asked in a hushed voice.

He shrugged and ducked his head a bit. "I don't know... not too long really. I think it's only just really starting to hit home. But I think a part of me has known it for more than a month now."

"So recently?" she said, apparently surprised by this.

Harry laughed. "Yeah, well, I hadn't really let myself think too much on relationships before this. I've always been a bit busy trying not to get killed by something or other, or spending my summers with the muggles, locked in my room. Not a lot of opportunities for making profound self realizations when you spend every waking moment performing exhausting manual labor."

Hermione looked as if she were about to keep talking but came up short and made a face at what he had just said. Her mind seemed to be trying to work something out, but she shook her head, as if pushing past it and getting back on topic.

"So... so you figured this out while Ron and I –"

"While the two of you had ditched me? Yeah. When you're left all alone, it gives you a lot of time to think on things."

Hermione ducked her head and had the decency to look terribly ashamed.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through so much alone, Harry," she whispered sadly. "I was such a fool."

"Yeah... you were." Harry said simply.

She looked up and her eyes were filled with sadness and remorse. "Will you ever forgive me, Harry?"

No. Never.

"Of course," he lied effortlessly, giving her a soft, reassuring smile. "It's okay. We're okay, Hermione."

"Really?" She asked with a hopeful gasp and smiled up at him, more brightly than he would have expected. He nodded and she quickly wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

He stiffened instantly, and had to fight the urge to squirm away from her. He didn't like the feel of her holding him. Not one bit. It was nothing like when his companion held him. There was no comfortable sense of home in this embrace. Only awkward discomfort. But he knew he needed to try and smooth out his public relationship with her and Ron. People would be less suspicious of him if he restored his friendship with them. And it would be so much easier on him if people weren't suspicious of him.

People watched him too closely as it was, and it was annoying. He had heard them whispering about him; the fact that he had so obviously distanced himself from his old friends had only added fuel to the fire of speculation around him turning 'dark'.

She finally released him and stepped away, blushing slightly and ducking her head. She smiled up at him, and her face was glowing with relief and happiness.

"Thank you, Harry," she said with a soft voice.

"What for?"

"For giving me another chance."

"Of course. We're friends, right? I couldn't stay mad at you guys forever."

She smiled again and ducked her head. He heard a small relieved sigh escape her lips.

Simple. Now, of course, he had to deal with the annoyance of actually talking to them regularly again, and he definitely wasn't looking forward to that. Harry only barely managed to refrain from groaning in frustration.

#Harry Potter #Tom Riddle #Dark!Harry #Tomarry #Harry Potter and the descent into Darkness..

3 notes · View notes

tatakatte · 5 years

Text

obviously, this episode was rough. Mad Queen Dany, the assassination of Jaime Lannister, the unsatisfactory death of Cersei Lannister, the improbable survival of Arya, Jon Snow being completely ineffectual (oh wait), the incredible adept player of The Game Varys caught in traitorous acts. All of it - what the fuck.

Now, i’m here for mad queen dany. I agree that there has been foreshadowing for it. we’re constantly told nearly all Targaryens go mad, and Dany’s father and brother were both mad. The vision in the House of the Undying shows a throne littered with ashes. Dany herself has burned many people, and the past few episodes she’s been growing increasingly angry and frustrated with her circumstances.

But the main question you have to consider is this: why?

Game of Thrones isn’t a documentary. It isn’t about real life or real life consequences or what not. It is a story, a plotted piece of fiction that must adhere to the rules set therein. Everyone freaked out over Ned Stark dying in season one, but it established the first, and most important, rule of GoT: the Game for the Throne is the only game that matters, and playing it poorly or abstaining leads to death.

It’s why I didn’t have a problem with the Night King storyline ending in episode 3. The supernatural stuff is only there to SUPPORT the Game. It’s there to complicate the political machinations of the characters. The Night King sets up a variety of things: Cersei as unreasonable & not caring about common folk; Dany being in the North & getting allies; the dragons as vulnerable; Arya fulfilling her prophecy (legitimizing prophecies);

They set up Cersei as the big bad. Good. She’s survived everything, Aerys and Robert and Joffery and the Tyrells. Cersei has survived not because of any supernatural means (other than The Mountain), but through her skill with The Game. She’s the big bad because she is winning at the only game that matters.

Cersei as the big bad sets up a lot of problems. What will Jaime do? Will the North go fight for Dany in the south? Can a mad Targaryen overthrow the ‘rightful’ Lannister? If legitimacy matters so much, will Jon have to take over? There’s actually very little hard evidence that Jon is Aegon Targaryen (but that’s a whole different thing)

I don’t even have much of a problem with episode 4. The aftermath of the battle is fairly... predictable. Everyone relaxes, celebrates; characters that haven’t seen each other in years meet up to reflect on how they’ve changed. And they have all CHANGED. I shouldn’t forgive writing gaffes, but even Sansa saying she survived Ramsey et al because of her strength is confirmation that characters Change and Stay Changed.

Here’s where the first problem started in re Dany. They show the Northerners fawning over Jon and how amazing he is. They highlight the great thing he’s done, all things Dany has done, usually to a greater degree. You see her growing frustrated. The writers are trying to establish Unreasonable Mad Dany, and doing it poorly.

Jon Snow has repeatedly shown that he is a poor leader, doesn’t think things through, trusts the wrong people, and is generally unaware of everything going on around him. Jon Snow Fails at The Game. This is why he was killed.

Jon Snow will most likely end up on the throne, even though - maybe especially because - he doesn’t want it. He has the ‘best claim’ and is a male, so he should be on the throne. But because of the established main rule, Jon should not be king and he will fail because he doesn’t understand The Game.

The writers try to set up that Dany will abstain from rampant death if she has good advisers. But ultimately, Dany can do whatever she wants (Stannis didn’t listen to Davos, arguably the most practical character), and she always chooses to save people. The people she’s burned to death are slavers or oppressors. She goes against her advisers often to protect people, even at her own detriment. Dany wants to HELP people; she has ALWAYS shown mercy if possible.She’s made bad decisions and suffered and LEARNED from those mistakes. She has Changed.

So.

Dany, through an unreasonable amount of awfulness, has maintained herself. She’s been betrayed over and over and lost people over and over and she still comes out strong. She does not mindlessly murder and she even chained up her dragons rather than see them hurt innocent people. Missandei’s death hurt her, of course it did, but don’t act like either it nor the (frankly, unrealistic & poorly done) death of Rhaegal would make her lose her damn mind. Why would Dany wait for the bells to signal a surrender before attacking King’s Landing? She wouldn’t. Her actions beforehand were necessary and brutally efficient.

What purpose does this serve the story? If Dany has gone through all these things, gone through literal fire, what is the point of her becoming just like her ancestors? We bring her to the precipice, we show her the means to become exactly like all those before her, and the POINT of WRITING - the POINT of her going through everything - is that she is not a victim to destiny. She can - she should- chose to be different. It makes narrative sense. Otherwise, there is NO POINT. The writing takes the easy way out, and her character is meaningless.

It is so fucking boring to setup the Mad Targaryens, the devolution of their dragons, the men being evil & awful, the Silver Princes all dying, the elimination of the entire family except this ONE GIRL, and then have her act like the rest of them. To have her fall into her expected outcome. Why? WHY give her these obstacles and expectations and then NEVER have her overcome? THAT’S THE POINT. THAT’S WHY YOU’RE WRITING THIS. To CHANGE the STATUS QUO.

Dany would never burn innocents like that. She would destroy the Red Keep without someone to stop her, yes, but she would not ruthlessly and callously murder everyone.

Varys was an expert at The Game. That’s why he survived so many kings/queens, that’s why no one killed him, that’s why he was the Master of Whispers. Varys, unlike nearly everyone else, cared solely for the people and all he did was to protect innocents. The show constantly has him protecting children, arguably the most innocent, and giving them purpose. Varys has survived 8 seasons of actively working against bad rulers because he is so good at maneuvering around people, at keeping his actions secret. Declaring his intentions to Jon Snow - the stupidest fucking person in Westeros - is wildly amateur and NOT typical of Varys. Varys would identify the Jon Snow problem INSTANTLY especially because of how trusting & open Jon is. For Varys to expose himself unnecessarily - poor writing. Varys would’ve sent those notes out a long-ass time ago, and he would’ve pegged Tyrion as untrustworthy long ago as well. He has no reason to confide in either Tyrion or Jon, and to show him doing so was wrong. His death is extremely unfortunate, because he could’ve shown Dany how to play The Game better than anyone.

Cersei - this is her ending? She is the big bad and she.... dies in the tombs below King’s Landing with rocks falling on her? I love that she got emotional - and Lena Hedley deserves all the awards - but she’s always been strong enough to get shit done. She watches Dany burn down King’s Landing, sees the whole Keep fall apart and then just... surrenders? Really?? What the FUCK. I know they never mentioned the valonqar prophecy on the show, but it can’t meant nothing. GRRM wouldn’t put it in there if it would never amount to anything. I’m seeing comments that Jaime had his arms around Cersei and... that counts? Fuck you. Prophecies are already confirmed to be Valid, and the valonqar prophecy has to count for something.

Shoutout to Arya for going blind, getting lost in Braavos, nearly dying, learning the difficult art of Changing Faces, and then.... never doing anything with it. Excellent. Every time I saw a character I was like “Its Arya! She’s that dude! She’s that lady! She’s Jaime! She’s Euron!” and she was NEVER ANY of these people.

And lastly, I - Jaime - how. Jaime Lannister has one of the best characters arcs of any character - ever. He is utterly despicable when we first meet him. He is smug, arrogant, beautiful, undermining his king, and screwing his sister, whom he’s had three children with. He throws a child out a window to protect his incestuous relationship with his sister the queen. He’s a terrible guy. He’s blase, and it makes him obnoxious.

And then we learn about him. We learn about him through his relationship with Brienne. Jaime loses the best part of himself (so he thinks) because he’s trying to protect Brienne. He helps her play The Game as much as they can while they’re prisoners of the Bloody Mummers and the Boltons. He feels safe enough with her to confess what actually happened with Aerys, and why killing the Mad King was his greatest act. When he’s released, he goes back to rescue Brienne by jumping into a pit with a bear. He tells her he’s “dreamed” of her. Later, he takes the Valyrian steel sword his father gave him, gives it to her and names it Oathkeeper. He enables her to keep her quest. He places his honor in her and when he acts, its with her on his mind. Even when he’s with Cersei, he’s noticeably changed from before. He - and as a testament to Nikolaj CW - constantly seems disapproving or doubtful, you can see his trust in Cersei waning. He’s hurt, because he cannot acknowledge his children even as they’re dying, and he sees Cersei growing more ruthless with power. When the danger of the Night King is shown to be real, he believes (like an idiot) that Cersei will aid the North. He’s especially motivated by seeing Brienne again, as she seems to remind him of how he’s Changed. When Cersei refuses to send her armies North, Jaime confronts her. And the utter betrayal when she tells the Mountain to kill him cements the end of his relationship with her. He goes North to help defend mankind, in opposition to his sister.

And at Winterfell, Jaime is ridiculous. This is the most obvious sign of his Change. He is visibly, painfully, in love with Brienne. Every time he sees her, he lights up. He leaps to his feet whenever she’s around. He cannot stop staring at her if she’s in the room. There might as well be cartoon hearts circling above his head. The scene where he knights Brienne is the most romantic, emotional, charged scenes in the entire series. They fight against the dead constantly at each other’s sides and save each other again and again. Once the battle is over, they are still together and eventually consummate their relationship.

They continue this relationship over a decent period of time. We don’t know exactly, but it’s long enough that Sansa notices, that Jaime “officially” decides to stay in Winterfell when everyone else heads south. Cersei sends Bronn down to kill Jaime and Tyrion, confirming to Jaime that Cersei no longer cares for him, and would rather see him dead.

The scene at the end of episode 7 seemed - to me - to be the culmination of where Jaime has come. He is obviously in love with Brienne. When he hears that Cersei is winning in King’s Landing, he knows that he can get close to her, that he can turn the tide of the battle. He may, in fact, be the only one. Being with Brienne - who represents pure honor - has reminded him that he can do good, and in order to do so, he has to leave. He reminds Brienne of all the terrible things he’s done in an effort to prevent her following him, as she would most definitely do. In fact, I half-expected her to pop up and kill Euron or Cersei this episode.

In episode 8, it’s like we we’re back with season 1 Jaime. He will sacrifice anything to be with Cersei. He fights Euron in the stupidest fight ever (Jaime can defeat endless amounts of dead, but one cocky asshole gets him???), and seems near death. He finds Cersei, and does not strangle her, but tries to lead her out. They die crushed by the collapsing Keep. Jaime says that the two of them are the only thing that matters.

Like. Why? What is the point? Writing fiction has to have a point, it has to lead somewhere, it has to form some sort of logic that makes sense. Jaime has Changed. People are arguing that Jaime is always selfish and does what he wants and has never betrayed Cersei. I don’t know where that’s coming from.

Let’s look at Jaime’s greatest act. He calls it that. He watched Aerys rape Rhaella and burn the Starks alive and seen the atrocities committed by the Mountain and has had to stand by the whole time. It made him sick. But when Aerys threatened everyone, when he said he would burn the entirety of King’s Landing, all those innocent people, Jaime couldn’t stand by any longer. He broke those oaths - ones he’s struggled to keep since he was seventeen (a baby!)- and 20 yr old Jaime kills Aerys. He lives with the insulting epithet Kingslayer, the ridicule, the besmirching of his honor, all because he knows he did the right thing. He saved thousands of people. He didn’t do all this to save himself, to save Cersei or his father. He killed Aerys because it was the right thing to do, because allowing Aerys to kill all those people would be too far in these ‘oaths’ he took.

But when Tyrion speaks with Jaime, Jaime flippantly says that he doesn’t care much for the innocent people anyway??? The thing he has lived with pressing on him his entire life was to save innocent people. He never tried to change this view of him, never tried to clear his name. The act was enough.

We’re supposed to believe that he doesn’t believe that anymore? That he abandoned Cersei, rode up North to certain death, acted like a completely lovesick fool with Brienne, and in the end, nothing changed. Why would he tell Sansa he’d stay up North, if he wanted to go back to Cersei? Why would he maintain a relationship with Brienne over several days/weeks (at least!), if he was still in love with Cersei?? Why would the impetus for returning to Cersei be because she was winning??? Everything about Jaime’s evolution has been the realization that Cersei wants power, she will do everything she can to acquire/maintain it, and that he is disposable to her. Even the baby is a tool. When she asks the Mountain to kill him, it solidifies his realization. Note how when Bronn comes at Cersei’s orders, Jaime doesn’t even seem particularly surprised or upset. He knows this is who Cersei is now.

The episode ended with Arya, the fucking Faceless Man who not used a Face in several seasons, finding a horse in the middle of a fucking fire-ridden graveyard. A pale horse. Like the one death rides. So. I guess she’s - coming for Dany. Or whatever.

I am so fucking disappointed. I hate everything they’ve done, and unless this is some cheap-ass vision Bran had and tells everyone about so they can fix it all, I will not accept this as canon. Which is insane, but I’m there.

#game of thrones #got spoilers #jaime lannister #daenerys targaryen #arya stark #the bells #fuck this episode #fuck this shit #i hated all of this #character assassination #completely undermines eight seasons of development #the worst ending #let it all be fake #i will deal with it #even if its cheap #i'm okay with that at this point

2 notes · View notes

cptncassianjandor · 6 years

Text

Infinity War/Avengers 4 ending fic?

Ok Infinity Spoilers below so~ ya been warned. I’m tagging it as infinity war stuff as well, double warns my boos.

This is what I think/want to happen at the end of Avengers 4. How they can respectfully move on to phase 4. Word count: 1.9k

“It’s fair, there was no discrimination” Thanos states, he is old and tired. He has fulfilled his own prophecy, there is nothing left for him to do.

“It isn’t fair to take people who have hardly lived their lives” Steve argues, he is hurting, mad over the loss of his friends

“There are those who are no longer suffering” Thanos replied, flashing up an image of Gamora’s planet in fast forward, starting from when he slaughtered half the population to now, the planet is flourishing “They are living the life they deserve. It is fair.”

“So why not target the murderers, the awful people in this world instead of those who are good.” Tony fires up his barely repaired suit, aiming the hand cannons at Thanos, knowing it would only take a flick of his hand to disintegrate Tony to nothing

“Everyone is corrupt, children bully, steal and lie, adults are no better.” Thanos takes a sip of a purple drink, flexing the gauntlet as a reminder or possibly to admire it.

“Only a God has that right, and you are no God” Thor wants nothing more than to slam his axe into Thanos’ ugly face but he knows he can’t yet.

“I’m surprised you’re able to restrain yourself Nebula, and that you’re helping such a rag-tag bunch of people.” He ignores Thor’s outburst and faces his last daughter, knowing she calculates every move he makes.

He casts an eye over the group pointing an array of weapons at him. Steve holding a shield, Tony with his various cannons, Thor’s axe sparks in his hand, Rocket holding Bucky’s gun and his own. Bruce has finally managed to convince Hulk to come out and he stands there in the Hulkbuster armor, Natasha stands with Okoye, M’Baku, and Rhodey. Behind them is Carol, they try to hide her as a surprise,

Thanos knows the odds, has watched this scenario a hundred thousand times and knows how it ends.

“Compared to you they are pleasant company.” Nebula replies, her black eyes boring into his. Her hand disassembles into a cannon and aims at him.

It begins with Thanos disintegrating reality around them all and constructing Titan around them. Why not entertain their delusions until they tire and then wipe them out in one fell swoop.

They go all out, Steve shouting orders and tactics, Tony and Rhodes firing off explosions, Okoye and M’Baku unleash their fury on the thing that destroyed their King. Hulk and Natasha run at him with their might.

Thanos dodges it all, he phases from side to side, reflecting explosives and bullets back at them but they don’t stumble or let him knock them back. Each use of the infinity stones tires him now, each phase is slower, the reality flickering around them as they continue their assault.

“You cannot beat me.” He grunts as he throws Rocket off him for the third time, tiny claw marks covering his arms, tiny bits of shrapnel catch him and cause him to bleed.

“This is not how it goes” He roars, clenching his fist and slamming it into the ground causing a shockwave that knocks them all back.

The assault stops briefly as they stagger back to their feet, and out of all of them, Tony laughs.

“How many outcomes did you watch” Tony wipes a smear of blood from his cheek, annoying grin in place

“A hundred thousand and they were all the same, all of you died at my hands.” He growls back, Thanos is long past letting them tire.

“Out of all 41 million outcomes” Tony begins, he steps forward toward Thanos and Steve falls into place next to Tony. “You only watched a few thousand.”

“Why would I waste my time watching you pathetic mortals fail again and again.” Thanos rolls his shoulders,

“You missed an important one buddy, out of all the 41 million, there was one outcome where we won.” Tony now has the heroes following him toward Thanos.

It is hard for the Mad Titan to not step back as they converge on him.

They stop a short distance away from him. Thanos was wrong. They will not tire with that hope behind them and he cannot bring up the power to obliterate them all at once.

“You are foolish to believe you can win against six infinity stones.” Thanos tries to force the stones to his will, versions of reality fade in and out, he phases through rocks and walls.

They all lash out again, hitting Thanos with everything they have and slowly he is the one who tires, he finds himself making small errors and getting hit, more of his blood is spilt.

He drops to a knee when Hulk hits him in the back and pins his legs down. Stark grapples onto the gauntlet, knowing it can come off with the right amount of force. Natasha, Okoye and M’Baku spear weapons through his other hand pining to the ground.

“You cannot handle them” Thanos gasps as Thor’s axe presses against his chest, splitting the old wound he had. “They are beyond mortal men”

Hulk smashes a fist over Thanos’ head and he goes limp momentarily, just enough for the gauntlet to behind to budge. Steve grabs the rim and yanks hard and it flies off, landing on the ground and twitching violently.

“Without someone to harness the powers, it will destroy us all” Thanos sounds panicked, Nebula is at his throat with a sharp blade that cuts into his neck.

Steve and Tony rush toward the gauntlet, which flies up and hovers between them, Steve’s arm stretches out to grab it but the gauntlet has its own mind and attaches itself to Steve’s hand, the powerful metal molding to his arm.

Thanos slumps to the floor as everyone surrounds Steve, who has dropped to the ground with the gauntlet flashing, his body convulses as he see’s a thousand different things, voices floating through his mind.

“Rogers?” Tony tries to pin Steve down with his anchors, but the gauntlet disintegrates them. The damage that had been evident before was now healing before their eyes.

The crumpled metal smooths into burnished gold, even Steve’s own wounds heal.

In his head the Time stone shows him what he wants to see and things he doesn't. Steve watches an outcome where he lived to dance with Peggy, how he could will that into his life. His heart aches when he sees her, even more when the stone throws more outcomes, they get married, they have children.

We can make it real, for a price.

The stones hum to him, replaying outcome after outcome, one where he brings them all back including Peggy, Bucky's arm is flesh and not metal, Vision is a person. Everyone lives.

But someone has to die.

“Steve?” Natasha says softly, and his head snaps to her “You ok?”

He sits up without saying a word and looks at his hands.

Steve knows what he has to do. Everything will be fixed.

He snaps his fingers, and the world shifts around them.

They are back on Earth, in Wakanda, and those who had disintegrated are there waiting. Tony pulls Peter into a hug, Okoye shouts for T'Challa and Shuri, Gamora is awkwardly pulled into a hug by Nebula and Quill, all of them trying not to cry. Groot is talking with Rocket, who is most definitely crying.

"You big lug nut" Rocket sobs as Groot pats him on the head

"I am Groot." Groot replies and Rocket sobs harder.

"Don't do that to me kid" He is crushing Peter, tears running down his face.

"I'm sorry Mr Stark" Peter is just as distraught, his face wet with tears

Steve turns to Thanos, who has come with them.

"I'm surprised you didn't have me erased. Everything comes at a price." He muses, watching as Thor embraces Loki. "So who didn't you save."

Steve stares at Thanos, who laughs. It is punctured with heavy breaths, Thor's axe cut deeper than expected and now the Titan is drowning in his own blood. Fitting perhaps.

"You could have changed the galaxy a different way. Changed the wills of those who are greedy, power hungry. Instead, you chose mass genocide." Steve ignored Bucky and Sam who are next to him.

He can't face them right now, when this is over, there will be time to talk.

"Genocide is not always bad. It has its uses." Thanos replies

A price the stones remind him, they want blood for their power. He knows, but for now, he ignores them and focuses on Thanos.

"You snapped your fingers and caused a lifetime of suffering to those had done nothing wrong. The rich still feed off the poor. Children go to sleep without food in their bellies." Thanos' voice is weaker, blood flooding the grass beneath him

"Let me kill him."

Steve turns to a person he has never met but knows instantly she is Gamora.

"Sister.." Nebula's voice is strained "Killing him now would be a mercy. He deserves to suffer."

"I thank you for bringing my precious Gamora back Steven. I will gladly die knowing she is safe."

Steve is unused to his full name, especially from an enemy.

"You threw me off a cliff" Gamora screams at him

"For the sake of the galaxy. Everything I did, I did for the sake of the less fortunate." Thanos slumps further into the grass, everyone who Steve brought back is watching from various positions, some grip their weapons in case this is a ploy.

Steve sits down himself, suddenly weary and knows what is happening. He has made up his mind.

"Steve?" Natasha's voice is quiet and he knows he can't avoid telling them anymore

"The stones demand a price" he says quietly, hearing a small bubbling laugh from Thanos as he dies slowly in the grass

"A price Steve? You offered yourself up?" Bucky snaps at his best friend

"I've lived my life Tony. The world doesn't need Captain America anymore, it needs you guys." Steve is aware that he is fading, slowly.

The stones are being patient as he says his goodbyes.

"Buck, we're well over 100 years old. Maybe it's time we retire" Steve jokes, painfully aware of how much he's hurting his friends, how much he's hurting doing this.

It would've been selfish to take someone else, to shorten someone else's life so he could live longer.

"I can't do this without you Steve." Bucky drops next to his friend, gripping Steve's faded shoulder.

"You did pretty well here in Wakanda. Shuri fixed your arm. You're free of any control now Buck."

"This isn't cool Steve. You can't save the world and then.. go." Sam can't bring himself to say the word die "What are we gonna tell them? People look up to you man"

"They look up to Captain America, not Steve Rogers." He closes his eyes, listening as those who know him beg him not to do this, to take them instead.

The ones he doesn't know thank him, for bringing back their loved ones, their family, and friends. He is sad he will never know them beyond the stones knowledge. Steve can't stop the tears as they fall.

There is silence suddenly.

He knows it will end soon.

"You promised me a dance." Peggy's voice makes him open his eyes.

Around them, couples sway to slow-moving jazz music. He doesn't look anywhere but Peggy, stood in a black dress, her hand stretched toward him.

"We don't have long. The song will be over soon" She urges and Steve pulls her toward him.

She laughs against his chest as he holds her tight, swaying in time to the music.

Steve has one last thought before it ends.

The stones were kind.

#infinity war #infinity war spoilers #Avengers #avengers 4 #the avengers #captain america #steve rogers #tony stark #iron man #Guardians of the Galaxy #iw spoilers #fanfic #my bad

19 notes · View notes

fandomsfeelsandfanfics · 7 years

Text

A Miracle (Reprise)/// Sirius Black x Reader

Request: I always wondered Sirius P.O.V in « a miracle » i always wanted to know how he flet when he saw his wife and daughter again! It’s probably one of my favorite imagines on here! I would love if you could do that, you’re great! Xoxox (anonymous)

A/N: I am sorry this took so long but I really really love this idea! As I’ve said recently I really want to rewrite some of my old stuff and this is a really good example so if you have any other requests like this put them in my asks. Any asks in general are welcome here. Enjoy! (oh yeah here’s the original)

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

When I first heard about the prophecy I was devastated. (Y/N) and I had faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named three times and our daughter, Rose was born just two days before Harry. It could be her, she could be the Chosen One.

Dumbledore had instructed both us and the Potters to go into hiding. It was awful but at least we had each other. It was like madness being forced to stay in the house. Not being able to help with the war but at least I could protect my family.

An owl swooped through the window just as I was finishing breakfast. Rose reached out at it from her high chair. (Y/N) had already picked up all the plates just as the owl dropped a few letters in front of me and flew back through the window.

I grabbed the first letter and (Y/N) walked back up behind me, placing one hand on my shoulder. “What’ve we got,” she asked. It was a slightly obvious answer but I answered anyways.

“Probably just updates. I’ve asked to know what’s going on even if I can’t be apart of it.” (Y/N) grabbed Rose out of her high chair and sat her down in the play pen which gave me time to open the letter.

Of course it was from Dumbledore. He was the only one who knew where we were.

Sirius,

I need your help on a mission. It is urgent. I know I’ve told you to go in hiding but this is an emergency. Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron immediately.

Dumbledore

His usually neat writing was slightly shakier like he was in a huge rush. I stared at the paper for several seconds, reading and rereading it over and over again. This was too good to be true. I could feel myself smiling slightly but I tried to hide it.

“What is it? Good news?” I looked up at (Y/N) in a sort of surprise.

“Um…not really.” I stopped smiling instantly not quite knowing how she would react.

“Come on. What is it,” she repeated. I looked back down to the letter for a second and then back up at her.

“Just about this order mission….. they want me to go.” Her eyes went wide and I averted my eyes. She sat back down across from me and I had no choice but to look at her.

“What?”

“It’s just an order mission!”

“Just an order mission?! Sirius we aren’t supposed to go out at all! We are kinda in danger!”

“I know, I know love but they need me. A lot of the members are hurt or doing other stuff. I love you but I’m dying in here. I want to help.” I reached for her hand and thankfully she left it there. “I want to stay here and protect you but I hate being idle. But if you don’t want me to go I won’t go.”

She stared at our hands like she was thinking. Merlin, I hoped she let me go. If she decided to tell me to stay, I would of course but I have to admit I’d be pretty disappointed.

“Um…when do you need to leave,” she finally said. I paused.

“Now.”

“Sirius! It’s such short notice.”

“I know.”

“Well…I guess it’s fine but you better get ready.” I smiled at her. I got up from my seat instantly. I ran around the table and kissed her on the cheek.

I made my way to the bedroom, putting on my clothes. I grabbed the closest things I could. I dark shirt, jeans, and some boots. I was back in the living room just as soon as I had left.

I grabbed my jacket out of the front closet and (Y/N) walked up to me with Rose on her hip. She pretended to pout.

“We’re devastated that you’re leaving, absolutely devastated. Right Rosie?” She looked down at Rose expectantly but Rose continued to smile at me.

“Da-da.” She reached out to me so I took her in my arms. I kissed her cheeks over and over again until she giggled uncontrollably. (Y/N) put her hands on her hip.

“Rose, come on, we’re supposed to be devastated.” I turned to her.

“I will be back soon, before nightfall, I promise.” I gave Rose back to (Y/N).

“You better.” I leaned down to kiss her and her hand moved up to rest on the side of my face. I pulled away, resting my forehead on hers.

“I’ll be back before you know it. You’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

She looked up into my eyes. “Yeah? Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?” I smiled slightly. I loved that sarcasm of hers.

“I don’t even know.” I pulled back and turned to leave.

By the time I reached the Leaky Cauldron I had gotten even more excited. I entered the doors expecting to see all of the other order members but it was mostly empty. I walked up to the counter where Tom was cleaning glasses.

“Tom, Dumbledore told me to meet him here. Has he come yet?” Tom shook his head and I deflated slightly, realizing I would have to wait. “Okay, thank you.”

“Do you want anything while you wait?”

“Firewhisky.” I sat down at a secluded booth in the corner and got back to wondering what this was about.

Lord Voldemort was just as active as always and so was that crazy ass cousin of mine. Maybe I was needed for information on Bellatrix or maybe they wanted me to sneak into her manor or maybe Narcissa’s. I felt like I couldn’t wait anymore.

My drink was dropped off at the table and I was too distracted to even say thank you to the waiter. I took a large sip of it and it tasted nothing like the firewhisky I had had before. It was absolutely disgusting.

I stared at the cup wondering if I had been given the right drink. It was the right colour and everything or at least I thought it was. My vision blurred slightly. I sat the cup down on the table and rubbed my eyes.

My vision was going in and out. “Whatthehell?” My words slurred together and the room began to spin. “Tom.” My voice was far too quiet for anyone to hear. I reached out to try and get someone’s attention but it was no use.

My head fell forward and everything went black.

I felt hands on my shoulders shaking me. I shot up only to see Tom standing next to me, shaking me. He moved back in surprise once I woke up. I looked around, I was completely disoriented.

“Sirius, look mate, you’ve been completely knocked out and if you’re too drunk to head home I’ll let you have a room and you can pay me back-”

“I’m not drunk,” I finally mumbled. “What the hell?” The room was still turning slightly and I felt a bit queasy. “What the bloody hell did you give me?”

I had finally remembered how I had gotten in this situation. What had he done to my drink?

“I didn’t even have time to bring you your drink. When I came over you were out and I saw your glass and figured you’d brought your own drink.” I shook my head.

“No....there was something wrong. I...” I rubbed my throbbing head and tried to gather myself. “What time is it?”

“It’s one am mate.”

“One? Ughh...I gotta go.” I got up from my seat and nearly fell. Tom grabbed my arm and held me up until I was steady. I tried yanking my arm away but he wouldn’t budge.

“Sirius you know how dangerous it is to travel when your wasted mate. Whether you’re on that bike or Apparating. Just stay here, you can phone your wife and everything.” His voice was calm and steady like he had had this talk before.

“I’m not drunk,” I yelled. “I need to get home.” I yanked my arm away and trudged towards the door. He didn’t bother with trying to stop me this time.

I Apparated and I was lucky I didn’t hurt myself or get completely lost. I may not have been drunk but there was something seriously wrong. When I arrived I was met with this blinding light. I shut my eyes and winced.

“Shit.” I squinted, trying to see what was going on. The light came from just above the house. I raised my head slightly. Instantly, my eyes opened wide.

Everything seemed to go into slow motion. The dark mark towered above our house like some sign of ownership. I ran to the door which was off the hinges. There was wreckage all throughout the front room. I followed the carnage like a trail of bread crumbs that led all the way to Rose’s nursery.

My breath stopped in my throat. The door had been broken, detaching from two of the hinges and breaking the door frame on one side. The wood was splintered all over the floor. All of the lights in the room were blown out and Rose’s crib was shattered.

A slight shriek came out of me at the sight of the crib. I took a few steps forward, pearing in. I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. Rose wasn’t there and neither was (Y/N). I fell to my knees as my emotions overcame me.

The first week was the hardest. I barely left the bedroom, I barely left the bed. When all the letters had piled up, none of which I responded to, James came. By the time he reached my room he had tears in his eyes.

When he saw me he looked slightly relieved but I didn’t know why. He tried asking me questions but I couldn’t bring myself to reply. He had to physically pull me out of the bed and throw me in the shower. I didn’t feel like showering but I did anyways.

I was in there until even the hottest temperature felt ice cold. By that time James had changed the sheets. This of course made me emotional.

“They smelled like her. They bloody smelled like her you idiot!” He said something like (Y/N) wouldn’t have wanted this. How the hell would he know?

Within the next two weeks I became obsessed. I wasn’t willing to accept (Y/N) and Rose being dead. There were no bodies, it wasn’t possible. I started researching it.

I tried to find anyway I could find out the spells used that night but I got nowhere. Everyone I tried to get help from didn’t seem to help me. They looked at me sympathetically but they didn’t want to help.

I ended up staying at the Leaky Cauldron. Staying with James and Lily was too much for me and I spent a long time blaming Tom for what had happened but even still I stayed there and he let me for free. I filled my rooms with books on all types of topics. Any that could possibly help me find the answer.

I spent most of my day locked up in the room only occasionally eating when either James, Lily, Remus, or Peter brought something up to me. I read mostly and experimented with spells. It got me nowhere which only frustrated me more.

I picked back up smoking. I had dropped the habit when Rose was born but I needed it. They all said I should stop but I really didn’t care.

A month had passed when James said those Earth shattering words. Who knew one simple phrase could change everything.

I got deeper into research and trying to find out what Death Eaters had been involved. That’s when I finally realized it wasn’t Tom who had messed with my drink.

Antonin Dolohov. I should have known the whole thing was a set up. The had sent me the letter and he had waited for me. He had given me whatever the hell was in that glass and I was too distracted to recognize him.

So I set up a little something for him. I waited and waited in Knockturn Alley. He had to show up eventually. I came day after day and eventually James caught on. He followed me (just to “keep me safe” as he said).

Finally, he showed. I was in the perfect position. Somewhere where I could see him as soon as he entered but it would take a while for him to notice me even if he was really paying attention to his surroundings.

I had on a large black cloak so he wouldn’t have noticed me anyways. As soon as he passed the alley I was in I grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him in. I shoved him against the wall with my forearm against his neck.

I used my other arm to pull back my hood. “Recognize me?” He looked slightly horrified but he only let it show for a moment.

“Sirius? How’s the wife and kid?” I punch him square in the jaw. I looked at me in disbelief. “What? Marital issues?” I punched him again. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his hand snaking towards his waistband. I got there before he could, grabbing his wand and tossing it to James.

I punched him a few more times before easing up. He looked slightly out of it but still extremely smug. He spat blood on my face and any other time I would’ve been disgusted but right now all I could feel was rage.

I kept hitting until his knees buckled. He feel to the ground and I started kicking him. Over and over again until he was unconscious and then far afterwards. Suddenly, I felt to arms wrap around my shoulders and pull me. I struggled against them.

“Sirius. Sirius stop! Stop!” James kept a good hold of me until I finally settled.

“Let go off me you arse! He's the reason all of this happened!” I spun around to look at James. He looked angry and maybe even a bit scared. “He’s the bloody reason the love of my life and my bloody daughter are missing!”

“They’re dead! They’re dead! They are not missing and they are not coming back! They are dead! Do you hear me?” I did hear him but at the same time I didn’t. As soon as he said that I felt slightly sick and a bit dizzy. My face fell and I saw his do the same in response.

“Sirius I didn’t mean-” My angry expression came back just as soon as it had left.

“Fuck you.” I shoved him out of my way and left.

I didn’t talk to James much in the following week. I just couldn’t bare to think about what he had said to me. He stopped coming to feed me making it only Lily, Remus, or Peter and I had to admit I was kinda glad.

I knew he wasn’t gone completely though. I would always see him here or there around the pub or just outside it. Lily tried to tell me to make up with him but there was no way.

I lost a lot of sleep during this week. I had stopped caring for myself as much as I had been. I stopped cutting my hair, shaving, and eating most of the food they brought me. I had picked up a drinking habit and my room was now full of glasses. I was a mess but no one dared to mention it.

I sat at my desk looking over some book that I was too tired to even remember the name of. I started to doze slightly when the door was thrown open. I turned around to see James standing there out of breath.

“What do you want?”

“It’s (Y/N).” That’s all I needed. I was awake.

“What about her?”

“She’s here.” Those words echoed in my mind for a second. She’s here. No. No.

I shook my head vigorously. “James that can’t be right how could she just show up and...and...”

“I don’t know but she’s downstairs.” I looked at him in disbelief but by the look on his face he was genuine. I wanted to believe...but I just couldn’t. “Come and see for yourself.”

I got up from my chair and followed him out of the room. With each step I took my heart began to beat faster and faster until I thought it might stop. I kept taking deep breaths but it was no use. It wouldn’t prepare me.

By the time I reached the pub it felt like all the wind was knocked out of me. (Y/N) was sat at a table with Rose on her lap. It didn’t look like either of them had changed in the slightest, in fact they were still wearing the clothes they had been wearing that night.

I just stared for a moment wondering what to do. I began to take a few steps forward, trying to calm myself down. How did I know this was real? I wasn’t going to get myself worked up. This entire idea faded once I reached them.

Every bone in my body compelled me to hug them and I couldn’t stop myself. I pulled (Y/N) into a crushing hug that was probably way too tight. I squeezed my eyes shut and didn’t open them because maybe if I did I would realize this was all a dream. A few tears fell down my cheeks.

I pulled away and looked at her. “Is this real?” She looked at me with a sympathetic gaze.

“Do I need to pinch you?” I felt myself smiling. That bloody sarcasm. That’s when couldn’t hold it in anymore. I began to sob uncontrollably.

“I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault,” I mumbled. She reached out to touch my hands and I looked up at her. She wiped the tears from my cheek.

“None of this is anyone’s fault. We’re in the middle of a war, we can’t start blaming ourselves for what happens during it.” I did my best to regain control of my breathing and it worked a bit.

It was a trap. I was on my way here and some sleeping hex was put on me. I finally woke up and came home and…” I started to cry again. “I shouldn’t have been so stupid.” She sat there quietly rubbing my back as I cried.

I finally looked up at her. “I didn’t think you’d ever come back.” A single tear slipped out of her eyes.

“Well I am now and I’m here to stay.”

73 notes · View notes

horrible-writer-rain · 5 years

Text

I’ll Save You {8}

Warnings~ Death, smut, think that's it.

I feel as though I'm dreaming but, I know that I'm not. I see a few images of my mate's life flash through me, her emotions and dreams. Everything she had been through. I saw and could do nothing about it. I felt absolutely powerless as I watched from the sidelines. I could feel my wolf wake with anger.

Then my vision shifts. As clear as day, I see a shadowed figure across the pinewood lake inside my territory. I can't see them but I instantly recognize the scent of carrion and ash. He holds my mate by the neck and a knife to her stomach. I scent deeper and under his scent I smell her's mixed with milk. I look to her stomach and see that it bugles slightly with pup.

My pup, I realize. He not only had my mate but my pup as well. I growl at him taking a step closer. He moves closer to me as well. My mate whimpers as he presses the knife to her neck. "You know, I never realized how much I missed Elishia until I saw all the things you got to do together. I knew my opportunity was now; when I figured out she was with pup and you left her unprotected. I realized that what a fitting way to make you feel all the pain I felt. To feel what it's like to lose your mate and unborn pup. Your father killed my girls. She was carrying a girl. Did your father tell you why he killed my mate and daughter? So, he could ensure his line and make sure the prophecy never played out. Look at it now almost complete." he rambles like a mad man laughing like one too as he finishes.

The movement causes the blade to press deeper into Corrina's neck, drawing blood, and she whimpers. "Let her go. She's not part of this." I plead with wide eyes. "Oh, but she is though. You care about her more than anything. You would do anything to save her, won't you?" he says sliding his scarred pale hand to her stomach. She closes her eyes tears staining her tan cheeks. "I'll do anything you ask. Just please don't hurt her" I plead taking another step towards them my eyes on her. "Then get down on your knees and beg for me to let me go." he replies. I comply getting down on my knees bowing my head. "Please, don't hurt her and let her go. I'm not my father." I plead and I hear Corrina whimper out my name. "No! Not good enough!" he shouts smirking.

I lift my head up just to see him plunge the knife into her heart. "No, Corrina!" I scream lunging at him but he just disappears. I drop to my knees and pull Corrina to my chest. I put pressure on the wound trying to stop the bleeding. "I'm sorry. So, so sorry Don't die, hold on! Help will be here soon." I tell her pulling out my phone to call Christien. "No, its not your fault. I should have told you I was pregnant" she whispers her eyes filled with tears. "I love you." she says blood bubbling out of her mouth, staining her lips. "No, No, NO!" I yell when the light leaves her eyes. I scream as I clutch her limp body against my chest, my hand on her belly.

I had truly failed as a mate and alpha. I hear a faint voice calling my name. I jolt awake when I feel a tug on the bond and a warm hand touches me. I look with wide eyes around the room before I catch sight of my mate. She's kneeling on the bed her warm hand on my arm. Warm, not cold. "Corrina!" I choke out reaching out to her. I needed to feel that she was okay, that she's real and alive, not dead. She moves swiftly into my arms. "I saw what you've been through." I say my eyes filling with unshed tears. "I tried to stop him and he killed you. I watched you die." I sob out and she pushes me onto my back. She straddles me and rubs her self along my cock.

She lifts herself up and sinks down onto me. Her warm heat welcoming me. She lays over me moving her hips up and down slowly. We make love until the early hours of the morning when I've knotted her twice and came 3 times. I try to get her to climax with me but she just shakes her head telling me that this is about me and not her. She comes during our last round of lovemaking. We lay there in my bed sated and spent. My phone goes off and I groan. I roll over and grab my phone on the nightstand, answering it. "What Christian?" I snap into the phone. "Sorry, geez. Alpha Blackwall was trying to get ahold of you. He wants to know when we are leaving." he replies "We'll leave at noon. Tell everyone to get their belongings and be at the pack house by 11:30." I snap out before hanging up the phone.

I feel a small hit against my arm. I look to my mate."You should have been more polite to your beta." she says and I raise my eyebrows in anger. "Well, maybe you should go to him." I growl out and she shrinks back trying to distance herself from me. "I'm sorry. This is new to me. Most males get a week alone with their mate but with the threat to my pack we have to move." I sigh bringing her to me. "We should get up and get ready." I say sitting and throwing my legs over the side of my bed. "It's 7:00. We have roughly 4 and 1/2 hours until we leave. I don't own anything either." she says giving me a pointed look.

"We're going into town to shop for you." I say going to my dresser and pulling out a pair of faded jeans, boxers, and a white button-up shirt. "Pick out something of mine and I'll just give you a piggyback ride until we find you shoes." I say kind of harshly. I swiftly go into the bathroom to get ready, hoping she didn't pick up on the tone of my voice.

I come out of the bathroom and she has put on a pair of my sweatpants and my long sleeve grey and black flannel. I raise my eyebrows at her choices. I had worn my flannel and the sweatpants yesterday. "They smell like you." she defends quietly dipping her head. I can't help the surge of power that comes from that statement. She was comforted by my smell. She goes to undress, but I stop her. "It's fine. Just surprising." I say my heart breaking at how broken she looked when I raised my eyebrow. Like it was something she shouldn't be doing. I wondered briefly what she had experienced. I had some inkling but not much until either she told me or I had more visions.

"Let's go we have 4 hours to shop." I say though I would have rather preferred to rip my clothes off and repay her for this morning. I walk over to her and turn around. "Hop on, Mate." I tell her and she does. Its nice having her wrapped around me , in a non-sexual way, after my dream. I can feel her chest rise and fall against my back and her breath against my neck.

Time Skip~

By the time 11:15 comes around all the shopping is done. She has everything she needs with the help of the stores' employees that were kind enough to help us. We make it to the pack house and leave Corrina in the truck I had requested for the trip. The towns' people are staying not because I don't want them to come with us, but because they aren't mine to command. Lord Varric, presides over the town and allows me to lead my pack separately but within his territory.

My pack was small if you took into account the amount of full-blooded were's in my pack. My pack had 38 full-blooded were's, 22 werewolves and 16 werecats, along with12 human mates, 8 children, and 62 half-breeds. My pack was the most diverse with "monsters" since my father passed.

I quickly brief the pack and we leave. I follow at the back and I'll be the last one there, but Christian will get there first. Corrina looks out the window with fascination. "I keep forgetting that you've been starved of the beauty of the world." I say and she looks at me. I stop at a red light and a loud banging is heard. She jumps yelping before swiftly crawling into my lap.

"Shh, it's okay." I tell her trying to soothe her. She just snuggles into my chest further with her back against my door and her feet over the console. Her head is under my chin and I can smell her scent mixed with mine. She's shaking so I purr in a last-ditch attempt to soothe her. She purrs back in response and stops shaking. She lifts her head up in surprise. "Yes, we can purr." I rumble out chuckling. She lays her head back on my chest. I continue to purr as I drive. The ride is only about 4 1/2 to 5 hours.

About 30 minutes later I hear her soft snores well more like soft puffs of air. I smile resuming my full attention to driving.

Story Masterlist

0 notes

gyrlversion · 5 years

Text

How that devastating Game of Thrones finale death was an imperfect fulfillment of the shows biggest prophecy

The series finale of HBO’s “Game of Thrones” concluded with one last upsetting death, and it comes very close to matching with legends found in George R.R. Martin’s book series. The tales of a man called Azor Ahai were told by multiple characters in the books as prophecies saying this legendary hero would be reborn again.

Part of his tale included the sacrificial death of his great love, Nissa Nissa, as the means of forging his weapon. “Game of Thrones” just partially brought this tale to life, but it wasn’t a direct recreation of the prophecy.

This is your last warning before we dive into major spoilers for the series finale of “Game of Thrones.”

Emilia Clarke and Kit Harington as Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow on “Game of Thrones.”

Helen Sloan/HBO

On Sunday’s series finale, Jon Snow killed Daenerys Targaryen after she had ascended to the Iron Throne, after killing thousands of innocents in the process.

Read more:Emilia Clarke tried to warn fans last year about Daenerys’ final season arc on ‘Game of Thrones’

Though fans had long-predicted we might see the Azor Ahai/Nissa Nissa legend recreated on the show, the circumstances around the death (and whether Jon or Daenerys would be the “Nissa Nissa” sacrificed) were always believed to involve the fight against the White Walkers — not the fight for the Iron Throne.

Instead of Daenerys’ death acting as sacrifice to prevent a second Long Night, “Game of Thrones” seems to have framed Jon’s choice to kill her as a way of preventing her “dark” reign in Westeros.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. First, let’s take a closer look at the Azor Ahai legend, and how it’s connected to “ The Prince That Was Promised” prophecy we’ve heard many times throughout the show.

The prophesied hero Azor Ahai and The Prince That Was Promised, as explained in the books

In the world of “Game of Thrones” and George R.R. Martin’s “A Song of Ice and Fire,” there are multiple accounts told of a legendary hero. Each group has a different moniker for the hero — Azor Ahai, The Prince That Was Promised, and the Last Hero — but the similarities between the tales have led fans to believe that each hero is really the same person.

Azor Ahai

Melisandre speaks most frequently about Azor Ahai in the books. When we were first introduced to Melisandre and Stannis Baratheon, she proclaimed him to be Azor Ahai reborn. The legend of Azor Ahai comes from ancient texts in Asshai, and they say that a champion of R’hllor, the Lord of Light, will be reborn to fight a darkness.

Melisandre believed at one point that Stannis Baratheon was Azor Ahai.

Helen Sloan/HBO

“There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world,” Melisandre said in Martin’s second book. “In this dread hour, a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him.”

The story of Lightbringer is then told to Ser Davos Seaworth by Salladhor Saan. Azor Ahai forged two swords, both of which shattered when he tried to temper the steel (including the second one, which was plunged into the heart of a lion).

Then came the third blade, which was created when Azor Ahai killed his love, Nissa Nissa. Here’s Saan’s account of its forging:

“Great was his woe and great was his sorrow then, for he knew what he must do. A hundred days and a hundred nights he labored on the third blade, and as it glowed white-hot in the sacred fires, he summoned his wife.

‘Nissa Nissa,’ he said to her, for that was her name, ‘bare your breast, and know that I love you best of all that is in this world.’

She did this thing, why I cannot say, and Azor Ahai thrust the smoking sword through her living heart. It is said that her cry of anguish and ecstasy left a crack across the face of the moon, but her blood and her soul and her strength and her courage all went into the steel. Such is the tale of the forging of Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes.”

Stannis had a fiery sword, but it was never Lightbringer.

HBO screencap

So Lightbringer is a powerful weapon that was created via the sacrifice of Azor Ahai’s greatest love. And for a time, Melisandre claimed Stannis was wielding a fiery sword called Lightbringer.

The Prince That Was Promised

Melisandre also uses the title “The Prince That Was Promised” (TPTWP) to refer to Azor Ahai, and we hear this title used by other characters as well.

In the books, Daenerys’ vision in the House of the Undying includes a scene of her brother Rhaegar and his wife, Elia Martell. She sees him holding a baby, presumably his second son Aegon, and telling Elia: “He is the Prince That Was Promised, and his is the song of ice and fire.”

There are additional clues within the books that indicated Rhaegar had a slight obsession with this idea of prophecy, and was trying to bring about the hero of the world through his bloodline. Aemon Targaryen (the former maester at Castle Black) also spoke of TPTWP prophecy with Sam Tarly and mentions a bleeding star and smoke and salt — just like Azor Ahai.

Aemon Targaryen knew about The Prince That Was Promised prophecy.

Helen Sloan/HBO

Also in the books, Barristan Selmy speaks about a “woods witch” (a book character known to be reliable when it comes to predicting events). The witch said TPTWP would be born from the bloodline of Rhaella and King Aerys Targaryen (the “Mad King” and father to both Daenerys and Rhaegar).

This means both Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow were prime candidates for the prophesied hero. To see all the evidence laid out for both Daenerys and Jon being Azor Ahai, read our deep dive explainer on the two prophecies here.

Read more: Everything we know about the biggest ‘Game of Thrones’ prophecy

But the show never mentioned the name Azor Ahai

Many fans believed Azor Ahai and TPTWP to be overlapping figures, and used the two terms interchangeably. So when “Game of Thrones” pushed forward through eight seasons and never brought up the exact name of Azor Ahai, people assumed this was simply showrunners David Benioff and D.B. Weiss’ way of simplifying the prophecy for show-only fans.

On the sixth season, Melisandre resurrected Jon Snow and told him he was the “The Prince That Was Promised,” reborn with the power of R’hllor for a reason. Then the High Priestess of R’hllor, Kinvara, was also introduced. She told Tyrion and Varys that Daenerys was the chosen hero meant to fight the coming darkness.

But neither of them ever used the term “Azor Ahai.”

Kinvara showed up for one episode and was never seen again.

Helen Sloan/HBO

This might have been our first warning that “Game of Thrones” would use the Nissa Nissa sacrifice in a surprising way by not having Daenerys Targaryen’s death connected to the fight against the White Walkers.

Benioff and Weiss also made sure to bring back Melisandre for the seventh season, and have her speak with Daenerys about how the interpretation of TPTWP prophecy was fickle.

“Prophecies are dangerous things,” Melisandre told the Dragon Queen. “I believe you have a role to play, as does another. The King in the North — Jon Snow.”

George R.R. Martin has also spoken about the wavering role of prophecy in his books.

“Prophecies are, you know, a double-edge sword,” he said in an interview with Adrias News in 2012. “You have to handle them very carefully; I mean, they can add depth and interest to a book, but you don’t want to be too literal or too easy.”

How Daenerys Targaryen’s death matches with Nissa Nissa’s, even though some key details are different

Both Daenerys and Jon fit the description for The Prince That Was Promised.

HBO

So, as is already clear, Jon and Daenerys aren’t a perfect parallel of Azor Ahai and Nissa Nissa.

Daenerys was neither killed in order for Jon to forge a new weapon, nor was her death a willing sacrifice in the way Nissa Nissa’s was. Jon didn’t even stab her with Longclaw, his Valyrian steel sword which many fans thought could be a stand-in for Lightbringer. Instead he plunged a dagger into her heart, killing her almost instantly.

But it’s interesting how the show wound up fulfilling other parts of Azor Ahai’s destiny through Jon Snow.

Melisandre’s words about Azor Ahai in the books prescribed that “the cold breath of darkness” would fall “heavy on the world,” and that this day would happen after “a long summer when the stars bleed.” The final seasons of “Game of Thrones” take place during winter, a winter which came after a lengthy summer and the presence of a red comet in the sky (a “bleeding star”).

Fans always believed the “dread hour” and “cold breath of darkness” was Melisandre’s description of the coming threat from the White Walkers. And in the books, this might still be the case.

The Night King was killed by Arya Stark on season eight, episode three, “The Long Night.”

HBO

But with Daenerys’ terrible rise to power and the sack of King’s Landing, “Game of Thrones” seems to be saying her reign as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was a coming darkness Jon Snow had to prevent.

Martin has yet to finish his book series, and lay out all the intricate ways in which these prophecies will (or won’t) play out with our main characters. As we saw with Arya Stark and death of the Night King, Benioff and Weiss had to rework pieces from earlier seasons in order to fit them into major turning points of the final episode’s story lines. Martin told them a general overview of his planned ending, but not the minor details involved.

Read more: Why Arya Stark killing the Night King uncovered a mess of emotions about HBO’s adaptation of George R.R. Martin’s story

So was Jon Snow really Azor Ahai all along, or was Arya Stark also a foretold hero who conquered the darkness? Was TPTWP prophecy always going to come to a messy realization, or is this convoluted ending just the result of Benioff and Weiss running out of book material?

These questions may go forever unanswered, but we at least feel certain that Daenerys will not survive all of Martin’s novels, and Jon Snow will likely have a role to play in her death.

For more “Game of Thrones” insights and analysis of all the best moments in the series, preorder the “The Unofficial Guide to ‘Game of Thrones'” now.

The post How that devastating Game of Thrones finale death was an imperfect fulfillment of the shows biggest prophecy appeared first on Gyrlversion.

from WordPress http://www.gyrlversion.net/how-that-devastating-game-of-thrones-finale-death-was-an-imperfect-fulfillment-of-the-shows-biggest-prophecy/

#Uncategorized

0 notes