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dracowars · 3 years

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LOVED YOUR TOM RIDDLE. Can I please request a arranged marriage au where yn is in love with him but he hates her so when she decides to let him go or someone else wants to marry her, Tom finally realises he’s in love with her. happ ending :))))

my heart belongs to you | tom riddle

pairing: tom x black!reader

word count: 3,3k

summary: where tom and y/n are in an arranged marriage

a/n: i'm so sorry for being so inactive recently, uni is taking its toll on me.. i had to do a bit of research for this one and also tom is a pureblood here!

warnings: toxic relationship, violence

universe: harry potter

“Get out of my sight, will you?”, he angrily snaps at you out of nowhere, for the third time already on this still very early day. Furiously, he stomps past you, pushing you to the side harshly, the filled glasses on your tray swaying dangerously. Knowing that you should just leave him alone, you stand there completely frozen at the door, still feeling the breeze on your skin after he stormed past you.

The glasses clink on the serving tray as you try to keep your trembling hands under control, but you terribly fail while tears shoot into your eyes. A lump forms in your throat and you gasp in desperation, losing your composure after hearing the front door slam shut.

Slowly, you slump down and therefore with a loud rattle let happen what could have been foreseen already: a thousand shattered pieces of glass scattered across the floor around you while you cower against the wall, your elegant dress pulled over your knees, your forehead leaning against it. Heavy sobs rock through your body and tears find their way down your cheeks, dripping from your chin onto the expensive fabric of your dress.

You just wanted to spend some time with him. Together, in the house of your parents, who went on a daily trip with their close friends early in the morning, all part of the most notorious popular pureblood families in the wizarding world – the Nott’s, the Macmillan’s, the Malfoy’s, the Lestrange’s. And if his parents were still alive, probably with the Riddle’s as well.

This is primarily the reason why you even are in this position right now; crying and huddled in the living room because your fiancé hates you profoundly.

After graduating from Hogwarts last year, the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you, descendant of the pureblood Black family, got engaged to Tom Marvolo Riddle, the last living heir of the Riddle’s. He would offer you a good future, they said, and you would never have to worry about anything again.

But nobody knows that in reality, your own beloved fiancé really does not want to have anything to do with you. He does not even want to stay in the same room as you.

You can’t explain why he acts like this towards you. You do not know why he harbors such an abysmal hatred for you and any clear-headed, rational person would have done something about it long ago. Unfortunately for you, you feel the exact opposite for him.

Your heart belongs to him and only to him.

You have liked him since you first met him at Hogwarts, back in 1938, when the two of you were sorted into the Slytherin house. This initial friendly liking has quickly evolved into something more than that over the years and lead you to where you are now, at a point where you would have never seen yourself back then.

You have already tried everything to convince him that you are not as bad as he seems to think. Every morning you bring him his breakfast, you give him everything he needs. Even when you were still at Hogwarts, you always looked after him, finished his homework for him when he was too busy to do it by himself, and helped him pass all of his exams.

And not once did you hear a thank you. Not then and not now either.

Slowly gathering your thoughts together again, you rub the long sleeves of your velvet dress over your damp face, wiping away all of your tears before you get up on shaky legs and begin to clean up the mess that you have created. After you went back to the kitchen with the broken pieces and some injuries on your hands, your gaze longingly slides out the window.

Outside, the sun stands high over the magnificent garden of the mansion, making the clear water in the fountain shimmer in its bright light. A gentle breeze blows through the air and rustles through the perfectly cut trees that line a small path through the garden.

The loud, excited voices that suddenly roar through the house snap you out of your daydream and you quickly wipe the blood from your fingers before you step into the huge marble entrance hall. You arrive at the front door just in time to open it for your parents, who, to your surprise, did not come back alone. You are amazed to find not too familiar faces in front of you as they climb up the stairs to the door where you are still standing.

“And that has to be Y/N. Oh, how you have grown!”, an older man smiles friendly at you and you return his smile with a certain uncertainty in your face.

“Darling, we brought guests over for dinner today. You surely remember the Lestranges?”, your father announces happily and only now do the faces that you have seen at numerous balls and celebrations seem familiar again. Especially one.

“Reinhard?”, you ask in amazement when you spot him standing behind his parents, a big smile on his face when he sees you.

“Y/N, how nice to see you again”, he grins, carefully pushing his way past your parents in order to slightly bow venerably to you, taking your hand in his to place a kiss on the back of it. “It has been some time.”

“I am sure you have a lot to tell each other”, your mother mentions in a sweet voice, but before she can continue, she watches how your facial expression changes from one second to the other as you look past them, out into the yard.

Next to the carriage with which they have returned, Tom is standing now, petting one of the splendid noble white horses before he joins all of you.

“Tom! There you are, I was already wondering where you went”, your father says, visibly pleased when he too spotted his future son-in-law, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

“Reinhard?”

“Tom?”

Within a few seconds, the two former best friends lay in each other’s arms, obviously happy to finally see the other again.

“Let us go inside. We want to show you our newest masterpiece of art in our wonderful collection, come on”, your mother announces happily and leads the Lestranges inside, but not without turning around to you once more. “The children can catch up on what they have missed.”

“I can’t believe it! You are really here, Tom. Man, you look even better than at Hogwarts”, Reinhard laughs, playfully pushing Tom to the side while you watch them in silence. “What are you doing here with the Blacks?”

“They kindly took me in”, Tom lies to him and for a moment you think he threw you a glance out of the corner of his eyes after uttering these words. His statement makes Reinhard realize that you were still there with them, who had apparently completely forgotten that you were even there.

“I am so happy to see you again, Y/N!”, he grins and takes a step closer to you, probably to be able to take a closer look at you. “Still just as beautiful as I imagined. And just as smart, I guess?”

Reinhard’s sudden compliments make you blush and your cheeks glow, which is why you nervously avert your gaze from him, directly falling on Tom, who looks at the scene in front of him with incredible resentment.

Unlike Tom, Reinhard was always there for you. You spent a lot of time together in your school days and if your parents had known about your close friendship, you are sure that he would have been your fiancé by now. Which, to be honest, does not sound bad anymore right now.

And yet your heart still belongs to Tom.

When you all sit together at dinner later in the evening, where your parents are talking about irrelevant things like Ministry of Magic, you keep making eye contact with Reinhard, who seems to be staring at you.

“Is there something on my face?”, you ask uncertainly and put your glass back on the table when you can no longer bear his piercing gaze.

“No, no, not at all. I was just wondering how a beautiful witch like you could have become so much more stunning”, Reinhard winks at you, causing you to swallow hard. You are not used to getting compliments, especially not from a handsome young man like him. Before you can answer to him, however, there is a loud clink and you startle, your eyes immediately fixed on the cause of the noise.

The glass, which you have certainly placed far away from the edge, is now lying in your lap, the little liquid that was still inside now spread over your elegant evening gown. You move your chair back in shock when, in the corner of your eye, you see how Tom puts away his wand. And not only did you notice Tom just now, but the rest of them follow your gaze.

“Tom, darling, how about you tell our guests how you and our daughter got to know each other”, your mother suddenly prompts him, not even realizing that he has just deliberately spilled your drink on you. But why did he in the first place?

„I would love to“, Tom puts on a really believable smile that no one but you questions and starts telling them how you met and fell in love with each other. He tells one lie after another, explaining the web of lies that you have spun around you over time to make your relationship as credible as possible, at least in front of other people. And suddenly nobody cares about you or your still soaking wet dress anymore.

“What a wonderful story”, Mrs. Lestrange applauds and everyone else seems to be completely enthusiastic about Tom’s fairytale. To top it off, he then reaches across the table to take your hand in his, just like a real affectionate couple would do.

You lower your gaze as he gently strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, trying your best to not show how uncomfortable you are. Oh, how much you wish that this were real, that Tom would actually treat you like this when you are alone, the same way as he does in front of your parents.

But he does not and deep down you know that he will never do.

“So, you are engaged?”, Reinhard scrutinizes the statement of his former best friend, his eyes focused on you suspiciously, as if he is expecting an answer from you and not from Tom. A slight pressure on your hand makes you flinch and look up.

“Y-Yes”, you force a smile onto your lips, whereupon Tom seems satisfied with your answer, letting go of your hand again with a - what seemed to you like a – disgusted expression on his face.

An uncomfortable silence spreads between the three of you, which is drowned out by the loud conversation of the adults on the other side of the table. Finally, making up your mind, you clear your throat loudly and get up from your chair, gaining everyone’s attention in a matter of seconds.

“Excuse me, I have to go freshen up for a moment”, you explain with a slight polite bow before turning away to leave the dining room.

“Reinhard, would you be so kind and help Y/N”, Mr. Lestrange asks his son, who stands up with furrowed brows, apparently just as surprised about this sudden request as you, but then follows you out into the hallway with no further objection.

“I really do not need any help, thank you”, you try to get rid of him as you walk up the large staircase leading to the first floor together, only wanting to be alone.

“Dinner like these are totally boring anyway”, he chuckles softly and shows no intentions of leaving your side any time soon, which is why you do not even try to search for further arguments. He follows you to your room where you are able to tear yourself away from him to put on a new dress while he waits outside in front of the door.

With an equally elegant burgundy red dress you step out of your room after a few minutes, Reinhard’s eyes greeting you with a sparkle.

“Wow”, he breathes out barely audible and takes you hand without asking to swirl you around, causing your dress to fly around gorgeously. Unintentionally, warmth rises in your face again and your hearts makes a barely noticeable jump inside your chest when he looks deep into your eyes after catching you back in his arms.

The loud clearing of a throat behind you makes you turn around in shock, only to see that Tom himself is now standing at the end of the corridor, not seeming very enthusiastic.

“We did not see you there, Tom”, Reinhard disguises his obvious nervousness with a laugh, acting like Tom had just caught you in doing something he should not have seen. Tom, however, does not even react to his words, but looks past Reinhard at you, his eyebrows raised meaningfully.

But when you do not move under his piercing gaze, his facial expression changes and he quickly approaches you, Reinhard instinctively pushing you behind him so that you can only see Tom approaching further over his shoulder. Before neither you nor Reinhard can say or do anything, Tom has already pulled out his wand and aims it directly at Reinhard, who flies back through the air only a few seconds later, hitting the hard marble floor at the end of the corridor with a thud.

“What the-?!”

“Come with me”, Tom orders, now standing directly in front of you. When you stubbornly refuse, he suddenly grabs your wrist to pull you away from there. No matter how much you fight against his firm grip, you cannot tear yourself away from him as he pulls you into the closest room, which turns out to be the library.

Once there, you can finally free yourself from his tight grip, but before you can reach for the doorknob to leave immediately, he locks the door with a spell. Angrily, you turn to him, despair written all over your stunning face.

“What is this supposed to be, Tom? Let me out of here, now!”, you command him in a loud voice, not caring if anybody can hear.

“What did he want from you?”, he asks you urgently and steps closer to you. Since the door is in your back, every possible escape route is blocked, and you are caught.

“We just talked to each other, you know. Like normal people do”, you answer irritably and cross your arms in front of your chest, not in the mood to justify yourself, especially not in front of someone who does not care about you at all and not after what he has done.

“But that did not look like it.”

“Tom, stop it.”

“You belong to me and nobody else!”

These words coming out of his mouth echo loudly through the dark library, his face wrapped in an eerie candlelight. Before you can even control yourself and fully process what he said, you severely slap him.

Frightened by your own horrible deed, you immediately pull your hand away, your gaze filled with fear, but the anger that keeps building up inside of you winning the upper hand after all.

“How dare you call me your property?!”, you scream in rage and tears form in your eyes because of your uncontrollable anger. However, Tom needs a moment to collect his thoughts after your heavy smack before he can answer you.

“You are my fiancé”, he spits out coldly, a touch of shock in his voice, apparently not expecting you to react like this.

“And that does not make me nowhere near your property! You never treat me like your fiancé anyway, so why now all of a sudden?!”, you bicker at him, your voice loud and constant, even though you would like to flee from this situation right away if you were able to.

But Tom does not have an answer.

“Fine, okay. If you have nothing to say to me, like you never have, then I will go back now and ask my parents to end this damn failed engagement and engage me with someone else who truly cares for me!”

Suddenly, without letting you time to catch your breath after your outburst, he presses you with your back against the door completely, his hands tightly grabbing your wrists, a little too tight for your personal liking.

“You mustn’t do that”, he softly whispers, his head lowered as if he does not dare to look you in the eyes.

“What is stopping me?”, you hiss, still full of anger and – probably for the very first time – hatred towards him.

But when you feel his lips on yours all of a sudden, all of these emotions evaporate and all that remains is your racing heartbeat, which is being repaired at this very moment. You never would have thought that at some point in your life the moment would come when Tom Marvolo Riddle, who absolutely loathes his fiancé, kisses you.

After kissing you, he looks straight into your eyes, and the Tom you met in 1938 is standing in front of you again. The Tom you fell so deeply in love with.

“I can’t explain it to you”, he finally breaks the silence, his gaze directed to the floor as he moves away from you, giving you enough space to breathe regularly again. You, however, do not say anything but just stare at him.

“I was not aware that I am capable of feeling such feelings for someone. I am unfamiliar with this feeling and I did not know how to deal with it, Y/N. I treated you badly because I did not want it to be true, I did not want to accept it. I could not imagine having feelings for the little nuisance that has always been running after me”, Tom explains, choosing each and every single word very carefully, trying to put his emotions into words which does not really work the way he would like it to. But that is how you know him. You know that this confession must be extremely difficult for him, but you can’t help but feel a sense of relief inside of you.

“When?”, you ask and manage, with this tiny little word, to make him look up at you. “When did you know?”

“Since I have been here. You served me every day and took care of me, even though I wanted to push you away from me with all of my might. You have already helped me so many times in the past without me even asking, you have always accepted me for who I am”, he desperately tries to but his feelings into words, asking himself what he is even doing right now.

“Tom..”

“No, I have to sincerely apologize to you. I had no right to treat you the way I did. And also today.. when I saw you with him and how well you got along, it finally became clear to me. Reinhard has felt something for you since our school days, I know that even though I could never understand, but now I do. I understand why he fell in love with you”, Tom continues without breathing, pouring out all of his feelings that he has hidden for so long.

“I understand if you want to dissolve this engagement and I will not stop you if that is what you want”, he quickly adds, looking at you with desperation in his eyes. He already prepares himself for the worst when you are the one getting closer to him this time.

“Idiot”, you smile slightly and place a gentle kiss on his lips while he looks at you puzzled. “I love you, I thought you knew that.”

“I know, but-“

“But nothing”, you interrupt him and take his hand to lead it to your fast pounding heart. “It always belonged to you.”

852 notes · View notes

homogrimoire-archive · 3 years

Text

Lu Vresha Eend Howyethnsch

[Excerpt] Long after the lives of the lovers had past, the kingdom fell to ruin, stuck by a great disaster out of anyone's control. Another kingdom would rise, and fall, in its place, just as others had in the past. It would face problems like its predecessors once did, and would be given hope by the few glorious souls that rallied the masses and dared to fight for their values. Yes, the kingdom they fought for would fall too. Yes their hardship would essentially equate to nothing in the ultimate infinity of the universe. But, in their short existences, they tried and did their best to make a difference in their time. They made a difference to those around them. They made a difference in the course of history They made a difference in each other’s lives. And in their end, they had love. What other end could be more joyous than to die in love?

[Ana and Jack rejoin Overwatch. Jack finds himself becoming closer and closer to Reinhardt, who had been pining for years.]

AO3 Link

Long ago, there existed a kingdom in a forest. It was breathing the breaths of life in it's newfound status and growth. It was prosperous, stable. At some point in its history, it began a cruel conquest, fueled by the memories of it's suffering from a recent war. It feared that suffering, and sought to ensure that it would never suffer again.

Reinhard stood at the resting place of his master. He remembers his sacrifice. An honorable death. A death that perhaps could have been avoided if he wasn't so cocky and such a honor hungry glutton. That bit of guilt always resided in him. This is part of the reason he fulfilled his master's last duty. It was the least he could do.

It is bittersweet, but his master's unfortunate death allowed him to become a better person. It was this passed down, sacred duty given to him from his felled master that led to him experiencing and learning so much. It allowed him to meet many great people who he would never forget. It was for the gift of those memories that he would always honor his duty and answer the call. He would keep the memory of his master alive. He would not let it be forgotten.

The scans were completed a while ago, so all that was left to do was pay his respects. He left the medallion entrusted to him all those years ago on the armrest. A piece of those memories for his old friend to hold onto, memories that perhaps could have been his.

Long ago, there existed a forest kingdom. It was ruled by a king favored by many. He brought forth a new era. He was spurred by the memories of old stories he heard in his youth, among them, stories of a grand and prosperous kingdom. He desired to bring those stories to life as much as he could, and he did.

Jack stared at the photo, an old thing that managed to withstand the passage of time and preserve distant memories. So many memories, all filled with so many emotions, many of them never to be felt again, forever just a memory. Yet, it was the memories incited by that photo that spurned him in a seemingly distant past. Even in the present, they still provoked him to fight on.

Ana understood this well, perhaps even more so. Her husband, her daughter, available to her only in memories. Yet, they compelled her to continue the fight more than anything. She never needed to ask why he stared at it in silence for so long, caressing the worn edges. She knew that despite wanting more, they were still content enough with their current lives. He had kept tabs on Vincent, and learned that moved on, and was living a good happy life. She had kept tabs on Fareeha and Sam, and saw that they had come to do just fine.

All was well in the end. The ghosts who were kept alive by memories were accepting of their afterlife in the physical realm. That was, until their shared ghost had come back to life to haunt them. A recall was issued for Overwatch, and suddenly, there was an opportunity to face the present and future, to no longer be bound by the past. At least, that’s how Ana saw it. She wanted to see her daughter, even if she was doing what she had never hoped the girl would do. But, what child always listens to their parents?

She expressed her desire to Jack, just to learn that the stubborn fool desired differently. She honestly expected as much. Their time as ghosts were over. The Shrike and Soldier: 76 had to cease their existence, even if just for a moment, so that Ana Amari and Jack Morrison could face the present: the reality where their dreams were long gone, replaced by the truth, cold and hard it may be at first. Cold and hard it may even always be, but it is the truth.

She decided that she would leave, with or without him. She wanted to face reality so that she could have a decent future, what would remain of it, at least. She wasn’t getting any younger, and she knew it. Still, she tried to convince him one last time. She was his friend, and only wanted the best for him, be it a whack to the back of his head, or a hug.

“Overwatch was our home, Jack. It still is. It is our family. Are you really going to abandon it now that you have this second chance?” she questioned.

“You know as well as I do it was a lot more than just that.” he replied. There was Blackwatch, for starters. And Overwatch was an international organization with the power to help and hinder many, for better or worse. Eventually, it toppled under the weight it carried. When it fell, it was evident it was something the world no longer needed. Talon and its adversaries had bested the organization as well, proving to Jack that it could not be dealt with in the light. Yet…

“Even so, we have a chance to live, to help others learn from the mistakes we made. Will you even abandon that duty just so you can mope all day and beat someone up now and then? The dead can only affect the living so much, Jack. There will come a day when you will truly die. Will you be content to die as someone forgotten, content to die a miserable, delusional old man? You know when I’ll be leaving. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, and know that you’ll be missed, again.”

With that, she left him to think. He had been alone for so long, it hardly seemed to matter anymore. But, she had a point. Was he really alright with dying alone. In the crisis, he had his fellow soldiers to live and die with. He was fortunate enough to be among the survivors. In Overwatch, he did not enter the battlefield much anymore. It was indeed lonely at the top, being pulled away from his friends, family, and love. For what? He wasn’t sure anymore. Even so, he was never truly alone. Gabe and Ana were still with him, more often for work related reasons than not, but still. Vincent, the understanding man he was, still loved him despite how often he was away. Jack loved him too, still did, in a way different than before, but it was love all the same.

He considered that she was perhaps right, calling him miserable and delusional. His time as a ghost among mortals was miserable. Even as Strike Commander, working seemingly endless hours, he was able to find moments of repose. A calm night with Vincent, a huge dinner with Ana and Gabe and their families, a simple thank-you letter handed to him from a promising trainee. There was none of that as a ghost.

He missed that, more than he wanted to admit. Did he really think this was how he wanted to live? Even if he wouldn't have any of that if he returned to the living, there were other things life had to offer. He feared he could lose even that too. But, he had to try, didn’t he? That was what he had always done. There was no reason to stop now, especially not in the name of fear. What kind of soldier would he be otherwise? A dead one, that’s what.

The kingdom went across the lands, conquering and destroying any who opposed it. Soon, their conquest had ended. They gained a vast amount of land, inhabited by an array of peoples. These people were now people of the kingdom, and the people of the kingdom did not suffer. The people of the forest forgot this.

Reinhardt and Brigitte were the first, aside from Lena, to respond to the call. After their short flight, they were at their new base, the base of the new Overwatch. Reinhardt had been there at Gibraltar before, though not often. He remembered it as mostly uneventful, but great for his tan. There, he and Brigitte met up with Winston and Lena. By all definitions, this was the gorilla’s home, and a second home to Lena. It was great to see some familiar faces. Being the only ones to have currently “officially” rejoined Overwatch, Winston and Lena were excited to give them a tour of the new base of operations. It was a work in progress, one knight and his squire would be happy to help complete.

That night, over dinner, they discussed who they thought would answer the call and show up. Winston noted that Angela and Genji were likely candidates, and Mei was en route after a trek through the Antarctic and traveling across the world. They also imagined Torbjorn would be joining, and Ana’s daughter if she caught wind of the revival. Aside from them, it was anyone’s bet as to who would answer the call. It may not be a lot of people, but it was a start, and that was all they would need. Their first mission was already set for a few months time, leaving plenty of time for people to answer, and to work on the base.

Torbjorn was the next to arrive, to the great joy of Brig and Rein. His engineering expertise was invaluable. After that, came Mei. Only Torbjorn and Winston knew her beforehand. Tracer, Brig, and Rein had found her very agreeable, very clearly a wonderful woman who would fit right in. She became incorporated into their friend group in no time. After her, to everyone’s surprise, was Echo, renowned creation of Mina Liao and overall a great companion.

Before they knew it, their first mission came and went, a stunning success. It was no surprise that Fareeha showed up at their doorstep soon after. Rein remembered her very well. She was an adorable little one who loved heroism, and grew into a fine,strong woman. He would play with her with Mcree every now and then.

While he was glad she was among them, fulfilling her lifelong dream, he could not help but feel that he was a bit alone. Among brilliant minds and an advanced AI, he stood out. Fareeha was similar to him, just a simple soldier, but much younger than him, so not as relatable. He was very close to Torbjorn and Brig as well, but he still could not help but feel that something was missing. He realized what it was when Torbjorn had bought it up one night, when it was just them sharing a few drinks. Or rather, Torb had directly said what it was.

Ana, Gabriel, Jack. Things were just not the same without them. Even as things got rough towards the end, they were still family. As Torb had put it, they were as core to Overwatch as “a nano-thermal heat sink was to a intra-dynamic processor module.” Reinhardt could only assume the man was correct. His knowledge of technology and such was minimal, just enough to keep up his armor and hammer by himself. Even then, he trusted Brig to take care of it better than himself. He was just a soldier after all. A Crusader, yes, but a simple soldier all the same. He was only taught what was necessary for battle, same as his long dead companions.

Yet, they still stood out among even the best. Rein supposed he was much the same though. By all means, he was an accomplished man. He could have retired and lived the rest of his life as a distinguished soldier during the Omnic Crisis and honorably discharged member of Overwatch. No. He decided to continue fighting on, to eventually die a warrior’s death, as Balderich had, as Jack, Ana, and Gabriel had. He imagined they would have done the same, except for maybe Ana. In all fairness, she did not have super soldier juice in her, and had a family. Rein certainly wouldn't have blamed her.

That night, as he lay in his bed, he remembered back to the days and nights they all shared together. The revelry of a victory, the woe of loss, the small moments that are difficult to remember, but the feelings they contain never forgotten. Eventually, his mind wandered to the first time he met them, there in Gibraltar.

It was a great honor to be working with them to aid in the creation of a better world for all. They all responded accordingly, in their own way of course. It was when Jack greeted him did Reinhardt swear he fell in love. He did not realize it at first, but he would realize it soon enough. He knew it was a bad idea to fall for your superior, but he did nonetheless. There was something about his smile and the way he spoke.

Hearing that the man had a boyfriend both gave him hope, and crushed him a little. On one hand, he wouldn't be pining after a straight guy, on the other, Jack was taken. Rein might wield a smashing hammer, but he was no homewrecker. Over the years, he would only fall for the Strike Commander more and more.

Yet, for all his bravery, he never told another soul. It is the simple things that time takes away: small yet warm memories, the first time he ever kissed another some time while a soldier, the voice of a friend from his youth. However, his love for Jack was not simple. Thus, it persisted.

The king, fueled by the memories of stories, forgot he resided in the present, in reality. His enemies knew where they resided. By the time he realized he could not attain the greatness he desired, he was fine. He had learned how to deal with reality, and did his best to bring what he could of those stories into reality. It was not easy, but with the memories of his people, he did what he could, and created new memories in the process.

When Jack and Ana had arrived at the Watchpoint, it was well on its way to sliding into the ocean. Smoke bellowed in places as agents, many of them familiar faces, fought off what were obviously Talon forces. Ana rolled her eye, always sure the organization would have collapsed without her. It did fall after she was “killed,” so she might have been onto something.

Without hesitation, they joined the fray as unknown, masked combatants, proving who they sided with very quickly. They eventually found themselves split from each other, nothing concerning in the slightest. Ana found herself working alongside her daughter, the memorable cowboy, and an omnic she recognized as reminiscent of an OR-15 model. She made sure to keep her children healthy in between getting acquainted with the omnic and sleeping any fools who dared get close.

Meanwhile, Jack found himself fighting alongside the Crusader, an ancient bastion unit, and one very talented, very short, engineer. The giant crusader tried to make small talk with him, but Jack repeatedly responded with a noncommittal grunt or with something basic and unrevealing. Despite this, the German remained as friendly as ever, just as Jack had remembered. He had found the man to be loud, but never really minded so long as he wasn’t having a bad day. If it was one of those days, which were frequent towards the end, he would kindly lower his voice, which honestly wasn’t particularly quiet. Regardless, it was a greatly appreciated gesture when he felt so underappreciated himself.

Eventually, the battle reached its conclusion. Talon robots lay defeated, their remains would later reveal useful information. A few enemy ships were making their escape, Tracer chasing after them in hopes of being able to land a tracker on at least one of them. And to top it all off, Widowmaker had been captured. However, the one known as the Reaper had escaped, as they would learn in a hastily thrown together meeting with some refreshments. It was then that The Shrike and Soldier: 76 spoke up.

“The Reaper is a strong foe, though a dumb one.” the Shrike spoke. “Dumb fool…”

“We also know him as Gabriel Reyes, former head of Blackwatch.” 76 revealed. He was immediately bombarded with questions of how he could say such a thing without any evidence. Not only that, Gabriel had been long dead after all.

“You’d be surprised at how hard it is to kill an old soldier.” she responded, taking off her mask to reveal her face. Of course, her daughter was the first to recognize her.

“… Mom?” Fareeha asked. “You’re… alive.” Her mother nodded her head. A wide variety of emotions covered Fareeha’s face as she stormed out the room. Ana sighed.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have to deal with this. I’m sure you all understand.” she said with the nonchalant wave of a hand as she went after her daughter. A moment of silence followed, all eyes eventually shifting to the masked man who arrived with her.

“You… I know who you are then! You’re Jack!” Reinhardt shouted, pointing a large finger at the man.

“…”

“Ahh! Your silence isn’t hiding anything old friend!” he bellowed, moving a few steps to give him a heavy pat on the back, making the smaller man slightly off balanced for a moment. “It is great to have you back.” he said more softly with a warm smile. Somehow, it made Jack soften up a little.

“It…” he began, taking off his mask before continuing. “It’s nice to see you too Reinhardt.”

It was not until they saw their memories played out by the people they conquered, who were now people of the kingdom, that they remembered this. The conquered lands were given an option, they could receive reparations and sever their ties to the kingdom, or receive one half of the reparations and join the forest kingdom in a coalition. They would form a single kingdom, each land in the kingdom equal in power. Many refused. They survived just fine. Those that joined experienced the mixing and melding of their memories that, as a result, birthed new memories reminiscent of their old ones

In the following months, things began to return to normal. The base was quickly rebuilt thanks to the help of friends around the world. More recruits, of faces old and new, had joined as well. Sojourn, Genji and the cyborg's brother were now a part of Overwatch. Other new faces included a friend of Winston’s from the moon, a freedom fighter who utilized the power of music and sonic technology, and a combat medic who was once a part of Talon. Meanwhile, Angela was making progress towards reverse engineering the brainwashing process so she could help Amile.

Ana had slowly been warming up to Fareeha, who was rightfully angry at her mother for deciding to leave. It saddened Ana, but was sure things would be alright in time. In the meantime, Overwatch provided her with a decent amount of work, be it missions, training, or catching up. It was decidedly better than being a ghost, but Hawai'i seemed much more tempting at times. However, she did find much joy in sharing what she had learned over the years to the younger ones, and had definitely missed gossiping at a base over tea. Vishkar representative Satya and former yakuza prince Hanzo proved to be good company in such a pastime.

Jack, on the other hand, was well in his element. He was no longer the Strike Commander, back to being a regular old soldier. Though, his insight from his past experience proved valuable of course. He soon found himself being happier with a smile on his face more often than not. He had Reinhardt to frequently thank for that. They seemed to bond over being two stubborn old soldiers. It was something Jack wished he had the time for back then, but, he had the present to do that now.

Rein was funnier than he remembered. There was also something about him that made Jack want to spend more time with the Crusader. Perhaps it was his hearty laughs that captured the attention of all, or the frequent nights they would spend together sharing a friendly drink, talking about the good and bad of their pasts, ultimately finding comfort in each other through the virtue that they weren’t so alone anymore. Perhaps it was because the man was an inspiration, a glorious sight to those who wished for hope. Jack had been one such person for a long time.

It was during these times did the great king reign. During all this, he was aided by many people who cared for him dearly. His mission of dreams and reality left little room for love in his life, even refusing beneficial marriages as he did not want to be an absent husband. Yet, after many years, he came to realize that there was in fact someone he loved: a knight of great renown who hailed from a conquered kingdom that joined the coalition. However, the king did not confess his love. It was only when the knight lay near death did he reveal his feelings. Perhaps it was that admission that spurned the knight to fight off death. Perhaps he would have lived regardless. What is known is that they kept their taboo love a secret.

This mission was supposed to be an easy one. Both soldiers should have known better than to expect things to be easy, but they were so confident in their teammates, and each other. They had been separated from the group, fighting their way to the drop point to escape. Comms went down after the order was issued to retreat and the coordinates were given. Hacked. Hopefully, the ship they were using to escape wouldn't be hacked.

The Talon machines were typically weak things, but plentiful. The sheer volume of them was what made things difficult. Jack could shoot all day, Reinhardt would hold his shield for as long as it could, and turn machines to scrap when it came to it. It was when his shield was down did his friend get hurt. A bullet to the chest, another to the leg with lots of blood flowing from it. He immediately rushed to the man, scooping him up, holding him close as he ignored the enemies and charged for the escape point. Rein didn’t know if he himself would make it.

“You know… you’re a good man, Rein.”

“Save your breath. I’ll get you to the doctors soon.” he assured.

“Heh. I think… this is fate. A warrior’s death… Honorable, and all that.”

Reinhardt remained silent. A warrior’s death was indeed honorable, but also sad, so very sad. But, at least Jack’s would not be lonely. No. There was no room for such thoughts. He steeled his resolve.

“No. You won’t be dying today! I love you too much to let you die like this!” he announced. I don’t want to lose you!

Just then, the machines froze, as if by command, their glows shifting from red to purple. Rein did not care why. If they were down, they were down. That’s all that mattered. He eventually arrived at the ship, Baptiste and Angela already there. Quickly, they shifted their attention to Jack. Fareeha was already patched up, leaving her to check Rein for any major wounds, thankfully none. His armor had served its purpose. Winston had suffered only minor injuries, and could patch himself up.

Rein could only pray and watch as the two doctors worked their gruesome yet incredible magic. Hearing that he would need a blood transfusion was concerning, but he had faith in the doctors, and hope. He could not bear the alternatives. He did not want to have to actually bury his friend again so soon like this.

It was fortunate that he and Jack shared the same blood type. He did not hesitate to offer his blood. He would never hesitate to sacrifice his blood for those he loved and wished to protect. All he could do was somberly wait, his eyes fixated on the man pale as a ghost.

They arrived back at the base where he was given more thorough treatment. Rein hated that he had to be pulled away from his fellow soldier, but he needed to be examined too, and they couldn’t risk his blood levels getting too low. They had all they needed at the base. All he could do was wait once more.

When he returned to Jack, he was still asleep on the bed in the medical ward. That night, he stood by Jack’s side, falling asleep in a chair was just barely a bit too small. He had the oddest dream that night, one of an ancient king and his lover, a knight.

When he awoke, Jack was still asleep, machines methodically beeping and droning quietly. But, Jack was still alive, and some color had returned to his face. Throughout the day, many came to visit, Brigitte and Torbjorn bringing breakfast, Ana, Winston and Lena drinking lunch, and Fareeha and Mcree bringing dinner. They all recalled old memories and stories, wishing for the best when they left.

It was a few hours after Fareeha and Mcree had left when Rein noticed that he began to stir. He shouted for one of the medics as he quickly returned to focus on Jack. Baptiste was the one to show up.

“What…”, Jack groaned, “Where... am I?”

“Safe and sound, that’s where. You took some pretty nasty hits back there. Let’s see…” the combat medic said as he pulled up the patient notes. “Major blood loss, damage to a major artery, punctured lung. Yup. Pretty nasty. Thanks to our friend here, you’ll live. Hmm, and thanks to some super soldier serum, apparently.” he noted. “Well, you should be good as new by the morning. Rest until then, and take it easy after. We’ll go over it tomorrow.”

“Right. Thanks doc.” he said as Bap began to walk away.

“Finally!” he gasped. “Someone thanked me! You’re welcome. Oh, and maybe get some actual food in you. Holler if you need anything, One of us will answer.” he finished with a wave goodbye.

Once the doctor left the vicinity, Rein practically jumped to pull Jack into a killer hug.

“Ah, thank goodness you will be well!” he rejoiced.

“Ack! They just fixed me!” he shouted.

“Right, sorry.” he sheepishly apologized. Jack let out a light huff.

“It’s alright. It’s nice to see you though.” he said with a friendly slap to the tank’s back. “So, uh, thanks. For helping me out back there.”

“Bah. Think nothing of it. It is what comrades do for one another. But, you are welcome.”

When he left Jack to get him some food, which ended up being warmed up leftover burgers and fries from the night before, Rein got to thinking. He wondered how much Jack remembered. Did he remember getting wounded? The declarations of love? The robots being hacked? How he held him tightly in his arms? Or even what happened in the ship? Rein hoped that he at least remembered the declaration of love. He didn’t think he'd ever get the courage to do it again, even after knowing Jack had moved on from Vincent.

When he came back, he noticed that Jack seemed lost in thought. But, he seemed to snap out of it once he noticed Reinhardt, thanking him for the food.

“It seemed as if there was something on your mind.” he said.

“Yeah… I need your opinion on something.” Jack requested. Rein was eager to give it. “I’ve been thinking, maybe I am getting a bit too old for this.”

“You know, I had been thinking of retirement as well.”

“You have?” Jack asked, shocked. Rein gave a lighthearted laugh.

“Yes, I have. A warrior’s death is honorable, but it would be missing something I want.” he replied.

“It’s love, isn’t it?” Jack questioned. So he did remember. Rein sheepishly turned away.

“Yes. It is love.”

“I think… I love you too, Reinhardt. Sorry, if I read things wrong, I─”

“No! You didn’t!” Rein quickly responded. Jack laughed, his bright smile the apple of Reinhardt’s eye.

“I’m glad then. I’d be honored to spend the rest of my life with you, if… that’s alright with you.”

“There would be no greater honor, than to spend the rest of my life with the man I love.” he said, placing his hand gently on top of Jack’s. They softly smiled at each other, gazing warmly at the man they loved.

Long after the lives of the lovers had passed, the kingdom fell to ruin, stuck by a great disaster out of anyone's control. Another kingdom would rise, and fall, in its place, just as others had in the past. It would face problems like its predecessors once did, and would be given hope by the few glorious souls that rallied the masses and dared to fight for their values. Yes, the kingdom they fought for would fall too. Yes their hardship would essentially equate to nothing in the ultimate infinity of the universe. But, in their short existences, they tried and did their best to make a difference in their time. They made a difference to those around them. They made a difference in the course of history. They made a difference in each other’s lives. And in their end, they had love. What other end could be more joyous than to die in love?

The honorable beings, who time and time again would arise to help their world, were fueled by the memories of others. And in turn, they fueled the memories of others as well. In a never ending cycle of despair. But, this is where hope and love are reborn, time, and time, again.

#reinhardt76 #soldier 76 #reinhardt wilhelm #jack morrison #overdads #rein76 #reinhardt overwatch #overwatch #I realized I never posted this on here #so here it is #I should write more rein 76 someday #it is very underrated #then again I just like rarepairs #also the title doesn't have any real meaning

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eulerian-circus · 6 years

Text

My finger slipped

Cross posted on AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/15187439)

Fandom: Legend of the Galactic Heroes

Ship: Annerose x Oberstein

There were few pictures of their mother, a camera shy doll who was unlucky enough to grow into beauty rather than be born with it. Their father had loved her long before her looks had matured and arguably, they never had -Caribelle von Musel had been an budding rose destined to never reach full bloom. By the time of her death, she had merely graduated from plain to attractive, a label that was offered only tentatively considering her two pregnancies. Born to rags and buried in rags, she had been an unfulfilled princess, one of those soft-hearts that cried out for a savior who never came. Annerose remembered her with love-laced pity, sorrow for the woman who had never truly managed to live but also frustration that she had been content to merely be the damsel of somebody else’s story.

Reinhard cared little for Caribelle. He, of course, mourned the mother who died when he was young but only the idea of her, not the woman herself and her hopes and dreams -or rather, her lack of them. If he had, then Annerose preferred to believe that he would not adore her the way that he did, setting his dear sister higher up the golden pedestal on which she had lived her life. It was not his fault; he could not possibly know that the gilded cage of the Goldenbaum dynasty had been superfluous, that the addition of a second kind of bondage affected her not at all. She had even almost been happy, all desires muted under an onslaught of undeserved comfort and beautiful baubles.

Their father had often said that Annerose looked like their mother. Looking into the mirror, she was terrified to find it true. With every passing year, it became more obvious that Caribelle was filling the crevices of her life. Annerose had inherited more than her looks; she had inherited her role in the story as well. However, unlike her mother, Annerose had been “rescued” by not one but two knights: her brother and his best friend. She had wanted neither.

Of the two, Kircheis had been the one who teetered on the brink of recognizing that she did not need them. Annerose grieved for the loss of his kind insight, that her brother had dragged him to the frontlines where he died after she had entrusted that beautiful boy to him. He had treated her gently, yes, but it was the gentleness of politeness, not self-imposed duty. If this were a story, she would mourn, too, for the loss of a great love. The truth, however, was that she had made her peace with it long ago. Billions died in war -she could not afford to be optimistic and think either of them would have survived. And, for all his prowess and ambitions, she still doubted whether or not Reinhard would ever be laid to rest in Odin’s rich earth. For the younger brother who had loved her unconditionally, she feared that he would meet the same fate as the countless soldiers who had given up their lives and right to be retrieved and properly interred.

How she envied Magdalena, her strength and her wit! If she had been born a man, the entire empire would have been eating out of the palm of her hand. Where Magdalena went, so did the sun. Annerose herself was merely the moon, a poor, pale reflection of something bright and worthy. She was Caribelle -struck by one great tragedy before becoming the personification of it. That single event superposed itself over the rest of their lives.

Bitterly, Annerose thought that if Reinhard had really loved her at all, he would have come to see her despite her expressed wish that he not. His brotherly duty done, however, he had left her to fade in the shadows, forgotten. When the curtain fell, that was the common ending of a fairytale.

She retreated to the estate that the Kaiser had previously granted her, learning to turn the cage into the garden of her life. With a critical eye, she went through the entourage of servants that were part of the furniture and dismissed them until only a handful remained. The rest, she sent to her brother, pettily letting it become his problem. Then, she she packed away her long, flowing gowns and dug up the more practical knee-high skirts and sleeveless blouses she had once worn in her youth. Thirty years of existence loomed in the distance but more than ever, she felt like the girl who played dress-up with her mother’s scarves and laughed as she helped her baby brother take his first steps.

There was little work to be done on the estate: that was why Annerose took it upon herself to reinvent the entire property. The flowerbeds were to be torn out and replaced with different flora and patterns, the fountains were to be moved. There would be walls knocked down, walls built up, and stairs leading to a yet-to-be-made observation deck on the roof.

In the first week, she dug up the flowers and plotted where the new ones would rest. There would be no roses, the Kaiser’s favorite, in this garden. Roses were beautiful, deceivingly dangerous things that existed to be devoured in little rosewater cakes or decapitated for the sake of a single evening’s accessory. She planted practical greenery instead - sunflowers where the roses were, tomato plants were there had once been azaleas, and carrots to mark the divides between different species. Refusing the help of her servants for anything more than transporting the little plants, the work was hard and lonely. Like the garden sprouting at her hands, she was alive.

When the gardens were finished, Annerose took a day off to bask in the satisfaction of personal achievement.It was then she remembered that Magdalena had moved off planet to assist with the reconstruction of planets which had been damaged during Alliance occupation. With nobody to share her accomplishments with, she idly deliberated whether or not to ring her brother and ultimately decided not to. He was Kaiser now; he needed no permission from anybody to come calling. Instead, she inquired about the number of a certain admiral to whom she felt she owed a belated favor and waited.

At noon the next day, His Excellency the Chief of Staff, Fleet Admiral Oberstein appeared promptly at her doorstep. She showed him in with little fanfare, seating them both in a blue drawing room she intended to paint green. The cost of the tea she served could have fed a peasant family for a year -it was a leftover gift from noble looking to get deeper into the previous Kaiser’s favor. Neither of them touched it. As the liquid cooled, she started to knit at blanket of soft, fluffy wool and they spoke of ordinary things that she could have learned herself from a newspaper. The fleet admiral asked her eventually why she had called for him. Because she, too, could be as obstructive as he, Annerose gave him an open invitation to visit and let him on his way.

A month later, with no sign of Oberstein, the garden was in bloom. Pollen from the newly planted fruit trees weighed down the air stickily. It was a bad time to have decided to repaint the rooms but that was just what Annerose did, opening every window in the estate to let the walls air. Having never done a project of this scale before, the first layers of paint were ugly and filled with bubbles, spilling over the edges of the rooms and onto the ground and ceiling. She learned quickly that, even with an apron on, she had best wear clothes which would not be missed.

Three days into her painting project, Annerose fell off of a ladder and broke her wrist. Under the pain and tears, she was mainly surprised. It was the first time she had ever broken a bone but not the first she had tried to take care of a break. This was what Reinhard’s childhood was like, she realized a little later. Full of bruises and broken bones, most received on her behalf for being the Kaiser’s whore. More and more, she felt as if she were an actual person, the needle of reality violating her stagnant, cushioned life. Thoughtfully, she refused the help of a doctor, wrapped up her wrist, and continued painting. She was halfway done repainting the blue-now-mostly-green drawing room when a frantic servant poured in through the doorway. At his heels, Oberstein gave the entire room an impassive once-over, his gaze settling briefly on her injured wrist.

Annerose offered him vegetables from her garden -which he declined- and, in a fit of rebellion, insisted that he stay for dinner. The affair could have taken place in a graveyard for all the deep silence which permeated the table. She asked nothing of her brother and he did not offer. As before, she took up her knitting in between the last course and dessert. The severity was broken only once she had shown him to the door. He took one step forward and then paused, his back towards her.

When he spoke, his voice was flat. “I killed Admiral Kircheis,” he said, and disappeared into the darkness before she could respond.

That night, she lay in her night dress on a comfortable couch, staring at the freshly painted ceiling and thinking about his words. “I killed Admiral Kircheis”, he had said. Annerose wondered if his veneer of cruelty was just as obvious to the rest of the admiralty. Blanketed by the shadows, she mouthed two responses she could have given him and felt no pang of regret.

A doctor came for her the very next morning. She wondered.

Slowly, the rooms came alive with all the colors of the rainbow. She had abandoned the premise of painting entire rooms the same color and decided to simply paint each wall on its own. The drawing room sported one wall of its original sapphire blue, one of green, and two opposing walls of warm brown-red, the color of familiar eyes. It was only then she wrote the message she had been thinking of for the last few days, scripting it with an elegant, curling hand that looked more like art than writing.

”I do not care,” she wrote, and sent it as it was, unsigned. That she did not immediately receive a reply bothered her not at all. Annerose was a patient woman.

Despite her patience, however, she broke her schedule out of sheer curiosity. “I am going out this afternoon,” she announced to her maid, a mousy girl with quick eyes but a slow tongue. “Alone.” A warmth spread through her at the words, as well as a thrill of excitement. It had been years since she had taken a look around the city in person, longer since she had the freedom to spontaneously decide just to go. When she had prepared herself, however, she found a contingent of soldiers standing at attention in the courtyard.

“I could hardly take all of you with me,” she said to the crowd. “Please tell your commanding officer to come here. I will talk to him about it.” In the meantime, she put a strawberry and rhubarb pie in the oven. Within thirty minutes, Oberstein himself emerged from a car, just as the Annerose was taking out the pie and setting out it to cool.

“Oh good, you’re just on time,” she said, herding him to the kitchen before he could protest. Though she had to force it, there was soon a plate in his hand with a heavy, steaming slice of pie. “After setting spies up in my household, the least you can do for me is try my cooking.”

He stared at her impassively. “Your safety is of the utmost priority,” he drawled. “The Kaiser would be distraught if you were to come to harm and as is, you are a major target for his enemies. It would be unwise for me to ignore such a danger.” But he did take a tiny piece of pie.

“Very well,” she said calmly. “If you are volunteering your services as my guard for the day, then I will have to accept.” The resulting look on his face, the barest flicker of protest running across it gave her great joy.

Two hours later, she was wandering her old grounds, greeting the faces she recognized and introducing herself to the ones that she did not. Oberstein hovered at her elbow like a shadow, dressed in civilian wear for once to avoid attention. It was specifically because he sought to avoid attention that she put her arm through his and physically forced him to her side. In the back of her mind, she thought of her parents, her father constantly trailing her mother out of old-fashioned chivalry, something that had made Caribelle blush prettily with happiness. Annerose remembered being told that one day, she would find a love to fill the same scenario, being simultaneously higher than any virtue a man could aspire to but also lower in status by every measure. Serenely, she smiled at his stoicism, taking note of the brief moment when his eyes widened ever so slightly. At the end of the day, she led him right back to the kitchen and wrapped up half the pie for him to take home.

“You gain nothing from this.” Oberstein told her, the next time she saw him. He stood right at the boundary of the estate, watching as she wrestled with the weeds.

Even with a generously wide-brimmed hat on, she could feel her skin overheated by the sun. “Explain,” she said, wiping the sweat from her brow with a handkerchief.

“I am useful to the Kaiser,” he said. “I am useless to you.”

She considered him for a moment, eyes running up and down his still form. There was more grey in his dark hair than she last remembered. “I hope my brother does not work you too hard.”

“The Empire must come first,” he said. “It does not matter what happens to me.”

Annerose looked at the weed in her hand. It was a small, white flower, blooming in the wrong place at the wrong time. Feeling daring, she stood to her full height and, swaying forward, kissed him gently on the side of the mouth. Under her lips, she felt him shift uneasily.

“Then we are the same,” she declared after drawing away. His facade had broken; there was a faint expression of alarm splattered across his face. “Because I have already fulfilled my purpose, have I not?” The admiral said nothing more and after a while, she heard the sound of his footsteps slowly recede into the distance.

It came to her shortly after that she had read this story before, both of theirs. She was the princess of the tale and he the villain, the one that the hero merely had to be better than in order to win his prize of a kingdom, a marriage, and power. ”I do not care” she repeated to herself silently. In her bones, Caribelle slumbered.

#logh #lotgh #logh:dnt #legend of the galactic heroes #die neue these

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bountyofbeads · 5 years

Text

‘Had I not been there, I wouldn’t have met Rudy’: The tale of the Arabian princess and the Trump International Hotel

By Dalton Bennett, Beth Reinhard and Josh Dawsey | Published October 18 at 1:03 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted October 18, 2019 3:40 PM ET |

For two years, the Emirati princess had been battling her estranged husband in Qatari courts for custody of their young son. She was running out of options. So, on the advice of friends “in diplomatic circles,” Princess Hend Al Qassemi traveled from Dubai to a place where she thought she might have a chance encounter with a powerful American official who could help: The Trump International Hotel.

Hend arrived in Washington on June 22, a date she chose to coincide with an event a Virginia women’s group was throwing to celebrate President Trump’s birthday. There, in the hotel lobby, she spotted none other than Rudolph W. Giuliani, personal attorney to the president of the United States.

“Lo and behold, there I was at the right place at the right time and met the right people,” Hend said in a telephone interview with The Washington Post. “Had I not been there, I wouldn’t have met Rudy.”

The previously untold story of the princess in Washington is the latest example of foreign interests seeking access to the administration by turning to the president’s lawyer. It is also a vivid illustration of how the Trump hotel is perceived by some abroad as a portal to American power — and of how, in some cases, it can be exactly that.

Foreign diplomats, lobbyists, political appointees and aspiring Republican officeholders — all are regulars in a daily spectacle of Washington influence at 1100 Pennsylvania Ave. Hend is not a professional in that world but believed, correctly, that she could have the ear of a confidant to the president if she just showed up.

In Hend’s telling, her custody case is caught in the political crosscurrents of Qatar and the United Arab Emirates, two Persian Gulf nations that broke off relations two years ago. Hend said she is a member of the royal family in Sharjah, one of the emirates, and she says her estranged husband is a cousin of the emir of Qatar. Their divorce is recognized in her country but not in his, she said.

She alleges that, one day in 2017, he pulled their son out of school and took him to Doha, the Qatari capital, without her permission. Hend traveled there and has been reunited with the child, now 11, but has not been permitted to leave the country with him, she said. A legal action she brought is ongoing, she said.

“Mr. Giuliani, an important lawyer, is currently helping me regain custody of my son,” she wrote on Instagram in June, posting a picture of herself with Giuliani in the hotel lobby. “He is currently the lawyer for #PresidentTrump and is helping me end this #UnfairBattle.”

The princess told The Post that Giuliani boasted of his past work in Doha but told her that, because he represented the president, he was no longer doing business with Qatari clients. Giuliani arranged for her to meet a lawyer in New York City as well as a longtime friend and former business partner, lobbyist Tony Carbonetti, she said.

Hend said that she met with Giuliani again at the Plaza Hotel in New York City, and that she continued to press him for help after her return to Doha.

Giuliani said in an interview that he initially thought Hend could be a paying client but concluded after talking with her that he could not help. Giuliani said the lawyer, whom he did not identify, told him he could not either.

“It was a total sob story,” Giuliani said. “I never lobbied the government on her behalf or made a dollar off of it.”

He said his past work for Qatar was part of a cybersecurity matter that involved “solving a hack.” Giuliani has continued to represent other foreign clients since becoming Trump’s attorney last year, breaking from long-standing protocols.

Several days after she left Washington, Carbonetti met Hend at the Baccarat Hotel in New York City. He said he did not contact anyone in the U.S. government on her behalf and was not paid by her. He said he “passed her case off” to the Qatari embassy.

Carbonetti, who was once managing director of the consulting and security firm Giuliani Partners, said Giuliani reached out to him because he was a registered Qatari agent. Carbonetti’s firm, Blueprint Advisors, is paid $300,000 every three months by the Embassy of Qatar, according to lobbying records.

“Rudy called me up and said she had a hardship case and asked me if I would listen to her,” Carbonetti told The Post. “I did.”

The princess said that, in the days after she met with Carbonetti, she received a legal summons related to the custody case that required her to return immediately to Doha. She said she suspects Qatari authorities had become aware of her efforts in the United States, perhaps from her social media postings, and wanted to divert her.

“I think they saw the picture,” she said. “I think that when they saw I met up with Rudy, it was too close to home for them.”

The government of Qatar declined to comment for this story. Efforts to reach Hend’s estranged husband through the Embassy of Qatar were not successful.

The White House did not respond to a request for comment. Giuliani said he never raised Hend’s case with Trump, and there is no indication the president ever became aware of it.

Less than two weeks after she met Giuliani, Trump hosted the top Qatari official, Emir Tamim bin Hamad al-Thani, at the White House. The president described him as a “highly respected man, a real leader” whose government is “investing very heavily in our country.”

In 2017, the UAE and three other Arab nations severed relations with Qatar and imposed a land and air blockade, alleging that Qatar aided militant Islamist groups. The U.S. has sought to maintain close military and diplomatic relations with all of these countries — including Qatar, an energy-rich nation that is home to a major base for U.S. military operations in the Middle East.

“There is currently a cold war happening, and my son is caught in the middle of it,” Hend said.

Hend’s trip to the Trump hotel came after months of her seeking advocates for her cause, which has been championed by some in far-right social media. Among them is Mohammad Tawhidi, an Australian Muslim cleric and outspoken critic of Qatar.

Tawhidi and the princess have never met. He told The Post that he appealed to U.S. officials in recent months — he declined to say to whom — but was ignored.

Hend said she doesn’t agree with all the arguments made by Tawhidi, who calls himself the “imam of peace.” She is dismayed, she said, by his frequent accusations that Muslim political and religious leaders sponsor terrorism. But she added: “The enemy of my enemy is my friend . . . I’ve had random people try and help me.”

Tawhidi’s tweets caught the attention of Emediong Akpabio, a Nigerian who describes himself as a human rights activist. Akpabio launched an online petition on the princess’s behalf that has collected several hundred signatures.

In Washington, Giuliani was not the only influential person to whom Hend turned for help. A couple months before staying at Trump’s hotel, she reached out to a well-connected lobbyist for a Persian Gulf nation. The lobbyist, who spoke on the condition of anonymity because he was not authorized to discuss the case, provided The Post with records of their communications.

Members of the Qatari royal family “are acting like monsters,” she told the lobbyist, adding, “I am not looking for a scandal or money. I just want my baby back.”

But her visit to Washington in June signaled a new phase in her search for a powerful political fixer. “I didn’t go to Saudi, Kuwait or Oman,” she said. “I went to the big boys. I went to America.”

Hend said she had heard from acquaintances in diplomatic circles — she declined to identify them — that pro-Trump events are frequently held at the hotel in the District. “At these events you can meet Republicans and people from the administration, which is what happened,” she said.

The June reception she attended drew several hundred people to the hotel’s main ballroom on a Sunday afternoon. Tickets cost between $150 and $5,000, according to an online registration page. A Post reporter was also present.

Two speakers credited Trump with saving their lives; one woman said a letter from Trump revived her on her deathbed, while another said she was considering suicide when she saw him appear on television.

Another speaker, Lucretia Hughes, recalled seeing as a child a “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” episode on TV that showed a solid-gold toilet in the Trump home.

“I’m going to sit at your toilet someday,” she thought at the time. Hughes finished her remarks by leading the crowd in a chant of “God! Family! Country! Trump!”

The princess was seated at a prominent table, with several of the speakers and the event’s emcee. Alice Butler-Short, the founder of Virginia Women for Trump, the for-profit group throwing the event, asked her to stand and be recognized after having traveled so far to attend.

In an interview this week, Butler-Short said Hend did not mention the custody battle. She recalled receiving a WhatsApp message from Hend’s assistant before the event, saying that she wanted to attend. Butler-Short had never heard of the princess.

“This sounds kind of suspicious,” Butler-Short said she thought at the time. Later she became convinced that Hend really was royalty. “Oh God, I better be polite,” she told herself.

More than a month after her two-day stay at the hotel, Hend again pressed Giuliani for help.

“Rudy, where are you?” she texted on Aug. 1. “I’m sorry for being troublesome but there are no relations between Qatar and most Arab states.”

Giuliani was on his way to a different part of the world.

“Headed for Madrid,” he texted back. He was en route, he recently acknowledged, to press Ukrainian officials to investigate Trump’s political rivals.

Staff writers Karen DeYoung, David A. Fahrenthold and Tom Hamburger contributed to this report.

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idornaseminary · 6 years

Text

Chapter One-Hundred Twenty-Six: Natasha

Natasha knew one thing for sure, and that was that she had to get back to Idorna. Even if she had to risk her life to get out of here, she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her time stuck in this room, waiting for Reinhard to decide a worth punishment for her. Unfortunately, her options were so limited that it seemed as though trying to run or Disapparate were her only choices, and they each came with their own dangers that she didn’t like the idea of trying to face.

It had been quite awhile since she spoke to Reinhard, made her “confession”, and now she was just waiting for the punishment. Frankly, she was starting to get impatient. It would be nice to at least know what fate he intended for her, so that she could know what the best option for escape would be. But Reinhard was either having a hard time making up his mind, or just enjoyed torturing her by leaving her dangling like this. She certainly wouldn’t put it past him, not after everything else she’d seen him do lately.

Thankfully, he didn’t let her stew for any longer. The door finally opened to reveal the tall man, a grim look in his eyes. Natasha put on a smirk, situating herself in the dark, plush armchair; she crossed her ankles and rested her chin in one pale hand, trailing her brother’s movements with her dark eyes. “Hello, brother dearest,” she murmured, the tone high and mocking. She wasn’t even sure what the point of this was anymore, although the way his face creased with aggravation was amusing.

“Natasha,” he greeted, schooling his voice into a neutral tone that she might have actually been able to believe was devoid of emotion, if she couldn’t see his face. The lines in his face spelled anger, especially the curve of his lips and the tension in his forehead, but his eyes, those glistened with pain. Natasha didn’t know if the tears were ones of sadness, of grief, or something else, but he was clearly trying his hardest to restrain them.

“Have you determined my fate?” she asked him, the jest at the drama of the situation clear.

Reinhard shook his head a little. He didn’t understand how Natasha could take this all so lightly, but that wasn’t what he was here for. It wasn’t his job to understand her. “Yes.” He took a deep breath, as if to draw strength from the air. “I’m sending you away. Funny enough, to what I believe is the same asylum Mom and Dad tried to send you to.”

Natasha couldn’t help but allow her guard to drop slightly at that. She’d expected him to want to hurt her, or maybe even to send her away, of course, but not for him send her to the exact same place their parents had tried to. “W-What?” she stammered.

A small smirk appeared on Reinhard’s face when Natasha’s pale features fell from the smug apathy and into what could almost be described as despair. “They are sending two representatives tomorrow to take you. I sent them the tapes and they agreed that you are too dangerous to allow to go free.” He eyed her for a moment, and Natasha suddenly felt the discomfort of scrutiny under the same dark shade as her own eyes. “I will warn you, running would not be a good idea. I will not hesitate to stop you from hurting anyone else. Do you understand?”

All Natasha could do was nod mutely, still trying to understand, to figure out what she was going to do. She was being sent away, just like she’d feared with her parents. She didn’t even look up at Reinhard when he exited the room, once again leaving her by herself. What was she going to do? He would be looking for her to run, to try to escape, and maybe that was what he wanted. His conscience was probably keeping him from just executing her, but after seeing how he handled that gun, she could only imagine that he was itching for the excuse to kill her. And she didn’t want to give him that chance. But what other options did she have?

Without a wand, trying to apparate posed a large risk of splinching, which only increased the further she tried to go. And if she wanted to stay away from the man for long enough to get back to Idorna, she would have to go quite far. She had no doubt that he would tear Starnberg apart looking for her if she disappeared now.

Natasha was interrupted from her thoughts about her escape. “Come to gloat some more?” she asked with the door opened, barely turning to look at the varnished wood.

She was surprised when she got no response, and instead only heard a pair of muffled footsteps, quieter than Reinhard’s were. This was enough to make her look up, and she was honestly shocked to have her eyes land upon Franz. “What are you doing here?” she asked him, not bothering to disguise her surprise. There was no advantage in her being one step ahead of him here, and she honestly had no idea why he would be here to see her.

“Reinhard...Reinhard told me,” the blonde boy mumbled softly, ducking his head down nervously. He was shifting back and forth on his feet, toying with his fingers. His shoulders were hunched forward slightly, making him look much smaller than he was. “He told me what you did.”

Of course. Franz had already been afraid of her, and Natasha knew he’d suspected the same thing as Reinhard, even if the older man believed it more staunchly. It wouldn’t have taken much convincing to make Franz think that Natasha had in fact killed their parents, particularly once there was a recording of her admitting to the crime.

“Alright,” Natasha said, the word traveling slowly from her pink lips as she attempted to decipher the reason why Franz was here. “And did you want your own revenge? Is that why you’re here?”

Apparently, that was incorrect, because Franz’s eyes went wide with fear as he practically jumped and looked at Natasha. “No, no, not that!” he insisted, breath picking up at just the thought of hurting someone else. Natasha didn’t really understand why Franz was such a timid soul, although she couldn’t help but wonder if it was in part her fault.

“Then why are you here? Reinhard surely doesn’t want you to see me.”

Franz bit down and glanced at the door again, as if considering fleeing, before he shook his head at himself and shuffled further into the room. He took an agonizingly long time to decide what he wanted to do, although he eventually seated himself across from her, in the chair usually occupied by Reinhard. He clearly was trying to fight for words, and Natasha decided to just wait, to let him get there in his own time.

“Did you really do it?” was finally the quiet question that came from the teenager. Natasha frowned a little, wondering what kind of question that was. Surely he had already made up his mind about her.

“What do you mean? You heard the tapes. You heard Reinhard,” she told him.

Franz looked up slowly, his blue eyes searching her face, eyeing her more directly that he had in probably years. “I did hear them. But I want to hear it from you,” he told her, slowly building more confidence. Or not so slowly, Natasha noted, as she saw the way his posture was slowly straightening and his voice was gaining more of an edge.

“I already did this once, Franz. I don’t want to do it again,” Natasha said, holding his gaze.

The boy shook his head again, leaning forward a little, actually moving closer to her. “This should be easy for you. All you have to do is tell me whether or not you killed them. Natasha, did you do it?”

There was a hitch in her breath when he effectively called her out for what she was doing - avoiding the question. For some reason, it was much harder to lie to Franz than it was to Reinhard, much harder to tell him that she had been the cause of their parents’ death. He didn’t deserve it, and she didn’t want to give him her false confession.

“I…” She practically choked on the word, and Franz looked more and more earnest as he waited for the response. Finally, the dark-haired woman had to admit defeat. Out of everyone in the world, Franz was not the person she expected to break her. He’d always been so easy to take care of, a pushover. It never took more than a gentle suggestion for her to get him to do what she wanted, likely more out of his fear for her than anything else. But now, in this moment, for some reason he was the most powerful force against her; there was just something in the innocence of his face, the look of someone who just wanted to know the truth about his sister and his parents.

“No,” she breathed finally, ducking her head down and allowing her dark hair to form a curtain around her face.

Franz was quiet for a long moment after that, probably trying to process, to figure out which time she had been telling the truth. She’d been very convincing during her confession, certainly, but there was so much more emotion in the single word she’d just uttered, emotion that couldn’t be faked even by the greatest actors.

“No,” he repeated, his voice muted as well. “You didn’t kill them.” As if somehow, saying the words would help him to process them better.

Natasha caught her bottom lip between her teeth, working it slightly. She didn’t know what Franz was going to do with the information, or if he even believed her, but she was nervous. Finally, the blonde looked at her again. “I knew you couldn’t have done it.”

She couldn’t help but wonder how Franz would have known that, or why on earth he would have had that kind of faith in her. Based on both of their actions around each other the last few years, there was no reason for him to have any kind of belief that she was a better person than others thought. “What?” she asked finally.

It was Franz’s turn to duck his head, although this time it was more nervous and embarrassed. “I knew you couldn’t have killed them. It just didn’t seem like something you could do.”

Natasha couldn’t help shaking her head, still utterly confused. “You were terrified of me, Franz. You wouldn’t even look me in the eye. You barely will now. Surely you must have believed that I could be capable of something like that.”

Franz sighed a little, running a hand through his hair and ruffling up the careful style. He clearly didn’t care about looking disheveled right now, though, because he didn’t bother to try to fix it. “I...I don’t know. Something just felt wrong about it,” he said, not meeting her eyes as he gave a noncommittal shrug. “You’re my sister. I couldn’t imagine you killing our parents.”

A sigh escaped her at that. If only Reinhard held the same sentiment. But that didn’t matter right now. “And, what, you want to believe I’m good? That I’m not a bad person?” He nodded a little in response, and she slumped back in her seat; it was her turn to run her fingers through her hair, thinking. “I’m not good, Franz.” That got his attention, got him to look at her. “I’m not a good person. I’d argue that most people aren’t, but I’m worse than most.”

“But you can change!” Franz insisted. “You can stay here, you can learn to handle things like everyone else, how to not manipulate them and control everything. You’re already changing, already different. I don’t know what it is, but something about you isn’t the same. Can’t you see that?”

Natasha was well aware that he was right, that she was different. Was it really that obvious? But she didn’t think she was ready to just give up having control over people, didn’t even know if she could. It was part of who she was, and she liked seeing what she could make them do.

“And what if I don’t want to change?” she asked him. “What if I go back to it?”

Franz leaned forward a little, another hand dragging through his blond locks and further mussing the style. “Natasha, please,” he begged. “Reinhard is going to send you away. I am trying to help you!”

“I don’t need your help!” Natasha shot back, before realizing that that was very, very wrong. Help was what she desperately needed, because, while she may have had plans, there was no way to pull any of them off without at least a little help. “I can take care of myself, thank you. Maybe you should go.”

Franz looked at her for a long time, then sighed and shook his head. “Okay,” he mumbled, standing up. He rubbed one of his arms, clearly contemplating words before he left. “Just don’t forget that you’re still a person, Natasha. You’re still one of us.”

He shut the door on the way out, the click of the lock reverberating in Natasha’s head along with his words.

#Script #Natasha

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idornaseminary · 6 years

Text

Chapter One-Hundred Twenty-Two: Natasha

She would have expected it to be louder. For there to be screaming, screeching tires, maybe an explosion or two. But instead, it was almost quiet.

There had been a quiet cuss from her father, a jerk of the wheel, and then the crunch and creak of metal pressing together, scraping and twisting and denting as it warped. She could hear the airbags deploy, the sound of her parents hitting them, as they continued to move. Then, finally, everything stopped, and all she could hear was the quiet crackle of fire. Something was burning.

The first thing she did was check to make sure she could move. All of her extremities seemed to be in place, and nothing hurt, which was good. The entire back of the car was relatively untouched.

The front was another story. As Natasha looked forward, she saw shattered glass. She saw dripping red, coating the now-deflated airbags and the caved-in doors. She saw bone. Her father’s eyes, usually holding an amused and knowing twinkle, were dull and bloodshot. Her mother’s lips, so often painted red and curled upwards, now dripped the same crimson color as they sat open, but instead of being playful and kind, it was garish and repulsive.

Natasha didn’t know what to do. With slightly shaking fingers, she reached forward and closed her father’s eyes. Andrea’s were already shut, and the girl couldn’t bear to sit there with Wilhelm staring at her. After another moment of tense silence, she realized that a fire meant something might explode at any moment. She had to get out of the car. Reaching for the door handle next, she found it to be jammed, the metal likely warped due to the force of the collision. She struggled with it, but her mind was not clear enough to think of a spell to let her out. She tried the other door as well, with the same result.

As the crackling started to grow louder, Natasha knew that if she didn’t escape, she would either be killed or have to answer a lot of questions about how she survived. And she only had a slim chance at the second one. She kicked at the door as hard as she could, trying to unjam it, to open it, even just to get someone’s attention. But nothing.

Finally, finally, she remembered her wand. She searched for it, as it had fallen in the course of the collision,and found it wedged beneath her father’s seat. She struggled to pry it out and eventually managed, quickly casting a spell and blowing the door open. She scrambled free of the car and was barely twenty yards away when the whole thing went up in flames. Had she been moments later, she would have perished along with her parents.

The German didn’t know what else to do but sit a safe distance from the car, watching it continue to burn - it eventually caught fire to the tree it had crashed into as well, which caused a spectacular flame. She could hear the distant approach of sirens, assuming someone had seen the smoke. At least that was taken care of.

When the responders arrived, Natasha was immediately checked by paramedics. She tried to tell them that she was fine, that she wasn’t hurt, but of course it was their job and they didn’t listen. Eventually they realized on their own that she wasn’t injured, and so they wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and did the rest of what they had to. Natasha just watched as they extinguished the fire, then removed her parents’ charred remains. She felt a tug in her stomach, felt a little sick, but didn’t say anything, even as someone tried to talk to her. When she finally opened her mouth, it was just to give them Reinhard’s number.

Her parents were dead. There was nothing else that she could say.

Natasha shook her head to clear away the memory. That didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that Reinhard was sitting across from her, once again, but this time with a recorder sitting on the table between them, ready to capture every word she said. Every word of the confession he had been waiting nearly five years for. The confession that she was trying to formulate in her head.

“Any time now,” the male finally prompted, clearly growing impatient. Even his tone didn’t reveal that, it was evident in the way he continued to shift, running his hand over his hair, touching the cuffs of his shirt, and of course, adjusting the gun in his hand. Natasha could hardly say she’d grown accustomed to the thing, hating it each and every time she saw it with Reinhard, but she had come to expect it. He didn’t trust her not to run, even when there was nowhere for her to go.

Knowing she didn’t have much longer before her brother lost it, Natasha finally opened her mouth. “I killed Wilhelm and Andrea Kraus. Our parents.” There was a strain in her tone that came with the words, the ones she’d refused to speak, to even think about for the last five years. It was just too hard.

“How?” came the hard response from Reinhard, his hand very clearly tightening on the weapon, as if he was ready to exact revenge right here, right now. And honestly, if he did, Natasha didn’t think there would be a single person that would truly miss her.

“We were in the car. Father was driving. They said we were going to the next town to do some shopping, but I knew we weren’t. They were taking me to an asylum,” she told him. Her head had been directed down, trying her hardest to not let her voice reveal her feelings, but now she lifted it, allowing her dark eyes to stare directly into Reinhard’s matching pair. “It was icy. Winter. I knew no one would suspect anything, so I used my wand to make the car lose control. It crashed into a tree and killed Mother and Father, and I survived without any injuries.”

Reinhard eyed her, searching every crevice of her face for any sign of falsehoods. He wanted to make sure that this time, finally, he was really getting the truth. He was evidently satisfied, because he continued with his probing. “Why, Natasha? Why would you do that?”

Natasha let out a soft, mirthless laugh. “Didn’t I just tell you? They were trying to lock me away, to control me. I didn’t like that very much.”

“So you just decided to murder them?”

“Of course,” Natasha said, smiling as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “How else was I supposed to make sure they never got in my way again?”

Reinhard shook his head in disbelief, not understanding how anyone could ever be so cruel. “And where have you been, when you keep disappearing for most of the year?”

“Studying with a powerful wizard. Learning how to gain more power,” Natasha told him. “Enough power to take even more control, over whatever I want.”

Reinhard drew a deep breath, nodding slowly. He leaned forward and turned off the recorder. He put it away in the bag he’d brought it in, then stood, adjusting the gun in his hand. Natasha’s sharp eyes easily tracked the movement, although they darted back to his face.

“Is the part where you execute me? Because I killed our parents?” Natasha asked him. She almost sounded bored.

His jaw clenched tightly as his fingers flexed. It was clearly what he wanted to do, but something was stopping him. “No,” he managed when he could finally speak. “I’m not going to stoop to your level. But I am going to make sure you can’t hurt anyone else.” One of Natasha’s groomed eyebrows raised in question, as if asking how he was going to do that. In response, he reached into the same bag and pulled out her wand. She eyed the object, ignoring her temptation to lunge forward and grab it. That may have been the better decision, however, because Reinhard proceeded to, unhesitatingly, snap it in half.

That was enough to finally get a reaction out of Natasha. She gasped and reached for it just as she heard the break, feeling something tug inside of her. That wand was the same one she had used since she was eleven, when her parents had allowed her to get it, just so that they could teach her how to control her magic. It had been a partner to her, and now it was gone.

“Well look at that. You do have emotions,” Reinhard mocked. He dropped the pieces on the floor and lifted the bag. “I’ll figure out what to do with you and the confession later. Until then, try not to kill anyone else.” He left the room, the sound of the door closing feeling more like that of a cell to Natasha.

She knew he couldn’t take that recording to the police. She had talked about magic, and using her wand. They would just laugh in his face and send him away. But it might be enough to get her locked up in an asylum, just like she’d said their parents had tried. Which was something she really did not want. His other option might be to get to the German wizarding government, but even she didn’t know enough about that to say what they would do, or even how to contact them. She’d spoken to a representative less than a handful of times, and even then it was just to get a few licenses and information.

So the question still remained: What was going to happen to her? Reinhard wanted justice, of some sort, but Natasha still knew something that he didn’t, something that was vital to him giving her the correct punishment.

She hadn’t actually killed them.

Natasha knew why he thought that, even before her confession, why he would be convinced that she’d killed their parents. The circumstances were certainly suspicious, considering how much she had seemed to hate them, how they appeared to hold her back. And the fact that she emerged unscathed from the crash, that really did point to her using magic of some sort. But that wasn’t the case.

“We’re so, so sorry, Natasha,” Andrea breathed, nearly in tears. She turned once again to look at her daughter, willing her to understand. “But you do see why we have to do this, don’t you?”

Natasha looked at her parents, trying to wrap her head around everything. “You...you’re sending me away,” she repeated, as if saying it out loud would help her process.

“We’re sending you to get help,” Wilhelm insisted, glancing into the rearview mirror to get a glimpse of his incredulous daughter. Her usual icy demeanor had been broken as she tried to figure out what this meant.

“Eyes on the road,” Andrea reminded him before turning towards Natasha again. “Dear, we love you, of course, but you are not right in head. We want to get you help, so that you won’t hurt anyone.”

“I don’t hurt people!” Natasha blinked quickly, wanting to wipe away the shininess of her eyes. “Use them sometimes, maybe, but I’m not that bad. You know I’ve never done anything that deserves this.”

Wilhelm shook his head and turned a little to actually look at Natasha. “Maybe not yet, but when you get older? You will, unless you stop this now. We should have done this a long time ago, before it got this bad.”

Natasha sat back in her seat, looking out the window. She’d known what she was doing, that people didn’t trust her, but she hadn’t realized it would drive away her family. Maybe if she’d known…

“I can get better. Please, just don’t send me to some institution,” she said, her voice the closest to begging it had ever been. Normally she just demanded what she wanted, which revealed how desperate she was.

“It’s not just ‘some institution,’” Andrea said, shaking her head. “It’s a correctional facility for troubled young women. And it’s intended specifically for those with magic. We made sure of that.”

“Bullshit,” Natasha snapped finally. “We all know it’ll barely be a step above prison.”

“Natasha,” Wilhelm reprimanded. “Your mother and I have put a lot of thought into this, to make sure you are going to a good place. The least you could do is be open-minded about it.”

Natasha scoffed at that. “You want me to be open-minded about this? Open-minded about the fact that you are basically locking me up because you’re afraid of what I might do in the future?”

Wilhelm turned to her again, opening his mouth, but Natasha cut him off. “You expect me to be grateful that you’re ripping me away from my family?” Before anyone else could speak, could even move, Wilhelm, who hadn’t been paying attention to the road, drove the car straight into a patch of ice, sending the car into a violent skid. He attempted to correct it, and Natasha started to reach for her wand, but things happened so quickly that there was nothing any of them could do before the vehicle collided head-on with a tree.

Natasha shook her head to rid herself of the memory. She blinked back the tears that came to her, not wanting to think about it. That had been the moment that she realized just how horrible, how careless, other people could be, the moment that she decided it no longer mattered who she took advantage of or what she did. The moment she became exactly what it was her parents had feared.

She knew that she wasn’t at fault for their deaths, even if she had been the reason they were on the road that day. Reinhard may still blame her if he knew the truth, but she knew he never would have believed it. He knew that she was being taken off to an institution of some sort, so it made sense to him that she would have rebelled against it. That was why she told him what she did; it was the only way he could ever feel that he got closure.

But it still left Natasha questioning her future. He would still want justice of some sort, but was taking away her magic enough? She didn’t know how much he understood of the Wizarding world, so she had no idea if he knew she could just get another wand, but there was a good chance he wasn’t going to take any risks.

The Cucurrion finally stood up from the chair she’d been in, stretching out her muscles slightly before striding over to her desk once more. She took a seat and pulled her hair up and out of her way. She needed to start thinking hard, otherwise she wasn’t going to make it back to school.

#Script #Natasha

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