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alby-rei · 3 years

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[Arthur Week, Day 3] Midnight Snacks

a/n: in which MC (ft. accomplice Dazai) wants to make the resident flirt, Arthur Conan Doyle, jealous. Why? Who knows! But what I do know is that it ends up working in his favor rather than MC’s... wait, what?

a/n 2: changed the title cuz it was bothering me xD nothing else changed.

My entry for @scummy-writes‘s Arthur Week!

Day 3: Coffee and Fudge || Writer’s Block

[Pairing]: Arthur x You/gn!MC, (pre-relationship)

[Characters]: You, Arthur, Dazai, Sebastian

[Word count]: ~2300 words

[Rating]: T

[POV]: 2nd Person

“...and all of a sudden, I hear Mozart yell ‘stop releasing chickens in my music room!’ but Dazai didn’t even flinch!” You brought a foam-covered hand up to your mouth to cover your laughter.

You and Sebastian were cleaning the dishes together after lunch time. You’ve made it a habit to catch up on your day and share observations with Sebas, as pretty much no one steps into the kitchen around this time.

Well, that is except—

“_____~!”

Except Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, naturally. He must’ve finished his writing session and been wandering around the mansion, as is his trademark since your arrival.

You closed your eyes, hoping the man would walk past the kitchen without checking. You weren’t exactly in the mood for flirty games with the mystery writer, especially not after dealing with a haughty music teacher in Mozart. Sadly, luck was not on your side, today.

“I’ll tell you the rest later,” you wipe your hands with a towel. Picking up the tray of plates and cups to put them in their rightful places, you didn’t pay the writer any mind.

“After this I gotta find Dazai,” you said as you opened a cupboard. Your turned around to find Arthur leaning on the door frame, and your tone shifted dramatically, “Oh! Arthur, funny to see you here.”

Sebastian knew that tone very well. It was your sickeningly sweet voice that you dedicated to either (a) dodging conversation, or (b) planning something against that person.

“I’d say the same to you, ___, but you’re always in the kitchen. I couldn’t help dropping in to check on my favorite bird,” Arthur leaned against the door frame, flashing you a grin and a wink.

“Oh please, don’t talk about birds after what happened this morning,” You caught sight of your target at the end of the hallway, “aaaand I have to go, see ya!”

You duck under Arthur’s arm while his guard was down. He twirled around to follow you, but you evaded him, calling out to Dazai. Arthur stood in his tracks, as he watched the japanese author stop for you, and you beamed up at him.

“Dazai-san, I’ve been wanting to ask you for something, if you’re… free,” you noticed mid-sentence that the chicken that was still nestled in his arms.

“Hm?” His piercing yellow eyes brightened, “I’ll always have time for you, Toshiko-san.”

“Bawk!” The chicken… agreed, supposedly.

You laughed sheepishly, “That’s very sweet of you, I was actually interested in learning about your writing style and get some advice. I’ve been going through some terrible writer’s block.”

“I was working on a short story earlier, it’s in my room. Want to come with me?” He began to lead her towards his room.

“I’m honored! I’d love to, Dazai-san.”

Oh yes, you were definitely planning something, Sebastian noted.

As the two of them walked away, Arthur stood glued watching the scene. Sebastian had been poking his arm the whole time, but he didn’t budge. Even shaking his entire arm didn’t spur any sudden movement from him.

“Sir Arthur. Earth to Sir Arthur,” Sebas continued tapping his shoulder and pinching his arm.

“Huh? Oh…” His gaze held an odd expression, one that Sebastian hadn’t seen from him before—a hint of sadness, maybe even frustration. But it was quickly replaced by his signature grin as he finally took notice of me, “Sorry, Sebas, I must’ve been blocking your path, got to go!”

And just like that, he scurried off.

After a moment’s pause, and after making sure the hallway was clear of esteemed residents, Sebastian did much the same, but in the opposite direction. He has notes to take, pronto.

~*~

You and Dazai sat in the lounge room, having passed by his room, and Dazai collected his writing material.

“You have really pretty hands, Toshiko-san. I’ve heard you playing in Mo-kun’s piano room, you’re a wonderful pianist,” Dazai held your hand delicately in his, as he ran his thumb over your knuckles.

“Thank you, it’s something I take a lot of pride in,” your heart swelled from the warmth of his compliment, “but I’ve been much more interested with writing as of late. Actually, I’ve always wanted to write a novel.”

“Oh? I admire your ambition. How can I help?”

“Well well well, what do we have here?” A third voice chimed in.

Right on time, as you expected.

“Have I interrupted your little rendezvous?” Arthur walked slowly and purposefully, as if he had caught them red-handed doing something they shouldn’t.

Internally, he was trying his best not to jump to conclusions. That would be uncharacteristic of him, after all. You weren’t tied to him in anyway, so there was no reason to feel so jealous that you went to Dazai for writing help instead of him. He didn’t even know about it!

So why was his heart pounding so loudly in his head while his eyes were fixated on their linked hands?

Dazai withdrew his hand, occupying it with his writing pen instead. He shot Arthur a smile with closed eyes.

“Of course not, we were just talking, Arty.”

“…Don’t call me that,” Arthur narrowed his eyes, “and second, I’d like to steal ____ now.”

“I’m sorry, Arthur, but I want to talk with Dazai a bit to improve my writing.”

Being shot down so directly caught Arthur off-guard; his insecurities getting a hold of him. For the first time, he found himself at a loss for ways to turn the conversation in his favor. At the moment, if he persisted, and you kept turning him down, he wouldn’t be able to let it down for the rest of the day.

Instead, Arthur straightened himself, fixing his tie, “Well then, I’m heading to the pub soon enough to find me a pretty skirt for the evening. Have fun, you two, I know I will.”

He huffed childishly, going out with a wave. Dazai turned to you with a polite smile.

“Do you think it worked?”

“Oh, he is definitely salty, thanks for agreeing to this, Dazai-san.”

“Any time, Yoshie-san, what are housemates for?” He smiled fondly at you.

“You’re a great actor, didn’t even flinch!”

“Ah, but who said I was acting?”

He got up with his writing tools and stepped out of the lounge before you registered what he said.

“Wait… what?!”

~*~

Later that evening…

…Well, more like around midnight, you just happened to catch the insomnia bug and were heading to the kitchen, as all people naturally do when they’re insomniac. You switched on the lights, thankful for the dimness of the lanterns in the kitchen. Scanning your options, your eyes settled on the coffee pot that sat quietly in the corner. Thoughts of a certain mystery writer gnawed at you, but you darted them away and walked past the coffee pot to get a glass of water instead. You leaned forward, filling her glass with bleary eyes that refused to slumber but also refused to open properly.

Suddenly, you felt a touch to your backside. Eyes cracking wide open, you spun around and swung your makeshift weapon of glass at your offender. The offending mop of ash blue hair felt the full force of the blow, and the glass shattered across the floor.

Well crap.

“Ow… If I’m not mistaken, I’d say you were trying to kill me there, ____.”

For the love—.

“Arthur what the hell were you trying to pull?! Bloody hell! You made my heart drop.”

In a flash, his body was pressed against yours, caging you between his arms and the kitchen counter. The crunch of the glass under his shoes was the only sound in the room. You saw a small stream of blood start to fall by his ear.

“I was going to prepare myself a midnight snack with my coffee, but it seems I already found one ready for a taste test,” he licked the back of his fangs.

“At this hour??” It was well past midnight by now, and caffeine was the last thing you’d recommend anyone at this time.

You felt his breath on your ear before he inhaled your scent. It was comforting to him as much as it was intoxicating to his senses.

He sighed, “____… I can’t get you out of my mind, no matter what I do.”

His arms circled around your waist, pulling you away from the countertop and flush against him, instead. All sorts of alarms were going off in your mind despite the drowsiness, with your instincts telling you to push him off.

“But then, you started avoiding me. And then… Sebastian and Mozart and even Dazai took you away from me,” he sniffled.

You pushed him off gently but still within his arms, as you stared at his face. There was a pink dust across his cheeks and a redness in the corners of his eyes.

“Arthur, are you… drunk?”

His frown flipped into a grin as he nuzzled his nose into your disheveled hair.

“Oh, don’t be silly, dear. I may have been out drinking, but I can bloody well hold my liquor. Theo can vouch for me on that.”

(a/n: no, he can’t lmao)

The sight of him in a somewhat vulnerable state, as well as the smell of his cologne, made it hard for you to properly fight him. Plus, you felt bad for crushing a glass cup on his head. Speaking of which…

“Is your head okay?”

“Hm…” He brought a gloved hand to his forehead, feeling a dull pounding in its wake, “I must say, you got me good, even the most daring fools never landed a hit on me yet.”

Just how thick is his skull to endure that?! You were both dazzled and frightened by their realization.

With one of his arms off of you, you took this chance to escape, but you slid on a shard of glass and would have fallen face first onto the floor had Arthur not pulled you against him and taken the impact of the floor to his own shoulder. He laid on his back, clutching you protectively against his chest. He groaned with pain, but he pushed it aside to check on you first.

“Clumsy tonight, are we, or are you seriously trying to kill me?” He chuckled wryly.

Before you could even blink, you felt your vision do a 180-flip, and you were suddenly beneath him, away from the glass shards that littered the floor. The scent of his cologne flooded your senses again, as he smirked down on you with a drunken lopsided grin.

“I was absolutely livid when I saw Dazai hold your hand. Was that part of your plan, darling? Well, I’ve taken the bait.”

You flinched, your body wide awake to every touch and caress of this man. You bit your lip to avoid playing into his hands. You were still in control of the situation, you thought. His lips descended to your jaw, barely brushing your skin, like he’s testing your limits. Instinctively, you sighed, unaware of the breath you’d been holding.

Ok, maybe you weren’t entirely in control, either.

“Arthur…” You commanded, trying to regain some semblance of control back.

This was not part of your plan, however, and you were quickly losing grip of all reason and logic. You needed to get him off and away from you before you acquiesced to his ministrations.

“But don’t worry, ____. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

He drew back from you, staring down at you with an uncharacteristic tender look. He continued.

“The effect you have on me is not one I’ve felt with any woman I’ve ever encountered before. It’s confusing—maddening, even— and I can’t escape it… because I don’t want to,” he sighed in surrender, “I want you, ___.”

It was a look of pure love and affection that shone in his eyes. His half-opened shirt invited your gaze to roam his body, and his thick-rimmed glasses framed his features in such an alluring glow that outshone the dimness of the kitchen. His hair looked softer than usual, too. Your hand twitched at the thought of running your fingers through those ash blue locks. Your mind was thrown into a whirlwind with the influx of new information, one that dented your rationality. Your desire to get closer to him wrestled against your impartial stoicism, threatening to crack the armor around the stone gates to your heart.

“Hey Arthur,” you started, twirling a lock of his hair with your hand. It was ever-so-slightly damp; he must’ve bathed in le thermae earlier.

“Yes, ____?”

Damn that seductive voice of his, you shooed away that thought as soon as it entered. You chose to focus on something much more pressing at the moment.

“We need to get you bandaged up. You’re bleeding terribly from your head.”

~*~

It took a lot of convincing, but Arthur finally acquiesced to your persistent request.

“There, all done,” you stepped back from Arthur, who was sitting hunched over on his bed.

You were both settled in his room with his medical bag open on the desk and his equipment strewn all around. You didn’t exactly know what to do to treat Arthur’s wound, but you insisted on doing it for him… with copious amounts of instructions from him.

“I brought you some fresh coffee and fudge, as an apology.”

“At this hour?” He mimicked your tone from earlier. You rolled your eyes at his childishness.

“And here I am trying to make it up to you, and this is how you show gratitude?”

You huffed indignantly, ready to head out and leave the unappreciative writer to his own devices.

“Hold on, now,” he gripped your wrist before you could fully turn away, “you’re the one who smashed glass on my head, so you owe me a favor.”

“…a favor on top of tending to your wounds and bringing you coffee?”

“Oh, indulge me, won’t you? You did those of your own volition.”

You sigh, “Depends on the request, then.”

“Feed me,” he perked up with no hesitation or embarrassment in his tone.

You wanted to turn him down, to tease him about his child-like excitement, but you couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes. Those eyes held a very powerful hold over you though you blame it on your own tiredness outweighing your better judgment.

“Alright…” You moved aside his things to sit next to him, leaning towards the table to drag the tray closer to yourself.

“Open wide, you incorrigible baby.”

#where does that put their relationship?#no idea!#what I do know is that Arthur is a happy baby #congratulations MC you played yourself #MC's plan backfires #accomplice dazai did his job #note: MC promised to help him build his chicken army in return #ikevamp arthur x mc #ikemen vampire arthur #arthur week #arthur week day 3 #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp mc #alby one-shots #ikevamp fanfic

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

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A Dish Best Served Cold - A Prince of Omens Inspired One-shot (Rated NC17)

Summary: Starmakers rarely Fall. Crowley was the first. But every time one does, Crowley feels it, like razor sharp thorns throughout his body. When the latest one does, Aziraphale offers to accompany Crowley to Hell to make certain they're all right. But while they're there, Aziraphale decides to settle a score on his husband's behalf. (3689 words)

Notes: All right, I said I wasn't going to do this again, but I couldn't help myself. So this is inspired by @whiteleyfoster 'Omens of Egypt' mini comic 'Down' about Crowley's Fall from Heaven, along with their Bastille torture implied pic, which you can see here . I know there's a contest going on. This isn't about that. There's better writers for that. It's just something I've been working on since the end of 'Down'. I needed some BAMF Aziraphale sticking up for his demon husband against his former managers, so to speak. Warning for angst and mention of torture (not explicit).

Read on AO3.

“N-no … s-stop … I … I didn’t … I didn’t do … anything wrong … I … I’ll stop! I … swear!”

Aziraphale closes his book and sets it aside, then rolls on his hip to face his husband grabbing at the sheets covering his body, gripping so hard his knuckles have begun to turn white.

“Dearest?” Aziraphale whispers, brushing aside strands of hair from Crowley’s face with careful fingertips. “Wake up, dearest. Please wake up. You’re safe, my love. You’re all right …”

“N-no … no, you can’t … p-please …”

“Crowley? Dear? Can you hear me?”

“N-no … no, please …”

Aziraphale sighs as his husband continues to whimper. He rests a hand over one of his to anchor him, give him something tangible and familiar to hold on to, even in sleep.

An anchor is all Aziraphale can offer because there is no consoling him.

Crowley had once confided to Aziraphale that as much as he loved sleep, he had nightmares pretty on the regular, and they got worse as time went on. They’re rarer now that angel and demon sleep together, but they still crop up from time to time.

Unfortunately, Aziraphale can’t always tell which torture he’s reliving - being tossed out of Heaven into a steaming pit of sulfur, or the various punishments he endured the second he became a demon.

Having the down torn from his wings over the sin of being vain and naive.

Or having symbols of degradation burned into his skin with hot irons for the treachery of rescuing an angel.

Aziraphale didn’t even know that was a possibility until he’d discovered them.

The burns had faded, but the malevolent power that created them remained, its vile signature seared into Crowley’s skin. Aziraphale stumbled across them one night while they were making love, when they were close together, mouth to chest, with Crowley sitting in Aziraphale’s lap, riding him. Aziraphale blew hot air across Crowley’s chest and there they were.

Aziraphale’s divinity had brought them to light.

The way Crowley covered them, the shame in his expression when he confessed what he’d gotten them for, speared Aziraphale to the depths of his soul.

For that, and for a hundred other things (including blessing that blasted Thermos of water) Aziraphale has never forgiven himself. Crowley tells Aziraphale there’s nothing to forgive, especially when they’re in the throes of passionate embraces and a single puff of breath from Aziraphale’s lips brings those marks to the surface. Despite the consequences of his decisions, they were Crowley’s decisions, and the ones pertaining to Aziraphale’s health and safety, he’d repeat a thousand times.

Yet, the nightmares continue.

“Sleep easy, my love.” Aziraphale leans over and lays feather-light kisses on his demon’s sweaty forehead. “Sleep, and dream about whatever you like best.”

Crowley’s breathing slows. The furrows in his brow smooth away. His hands begin to loosen, let go of their vice hold. He melts into the sheets, eyelids fluttering slowly.

A small smile even manages to tilt up the corners of his mouth.

“That’s it. Relax. Be calm … at peace. I’m here with you. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you alone.”

Crowley hums behind his lips, finally happy in his dreaming.

Aziraphale exhales with relief. It worked … thank God.

…

But for only about a minute.

Aziraphale goes back to his book, but a second later, Crowley jerks, jarring the bed as if the mattress had saved him from a terrible tumble. He sits bolt up, fist clutching his chest over the shadow of one particularly gruesome burn, his eyes wide and unblinking like those of a frightened foal.

“No!” he gasps, staring straight ahead, the remainder of his nightmare fading where Aziraphale can’t see.

“No what, dearest?” Aziraphale asks, careful not to speak too loudly in case it takes Crowley a moment to remember where he is, and that he’s not alone. “Which nightmare was it this time?”

“A … an angel … will Fall,” Crowley reveals in a voice that trembles. “A … a Starmaker.”

His answer stuns Aziraphale into closing his book and setting it on the table beside the bed without saving his place first. “Is that … will that really happen?”

Crowley swallows hard. “Yes.” He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, on the verge of tears. “Yes, I … I feel it. I could see it. It’s happening now. Tonight.” His eyelids pinch shut. He shakes his head, trying to dislodge the image from his brain, but Aziraphale knows it will be difficult to erase.

Starmakers rarely Fall. Maybe one in a thousand years. Crowley was the first, and for some reason, he can feel when another does. It rips through him like shards of ice, makes the return trip like tongues of fire, and haunts him for days after.

Aziraphale has often wondered if Hell did that on purpose - found a way to curse him with that foresight as one of their many forms of discipline.

Or perhaps it was Heaven’s doing.

Aziraphale wouldn’t be surprised either way. It seems like something they would both come up with.

“Do you have any idea when they will …?”

“Any second now,” Crowley says on a single breath, eager to push the knowledge from his mouth.

“Well then …” Aziraphale lifts the comforter off his legs and makes to get out of bed “… would you like to accompany me to Hell? Make sure they’re all right?”

Crowley’s eyelids snap open, blown pupils finding Aziraphale’s smiling face. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve traveled to Hell together. Crowley looks like he might jump at the offer, but something holds him back.

Things are different now. They’re different now. They’re free agents. Crowley doesn’t answer to Hell anymore. As for Aziraphale, it’s not like Hell welcomed angels too freely downstairs with open arms before the Nope-ageddon. Angels’ visits to Hell have always been procedural, planned ahead, with paperwork involved. Heaven holds the keys to the bottomless pit, after all. It’s their job to tend to the prisoners there.

What Aziraphale is recommending they do is more than a little unprecedented.

If Aziraphale gets himself in a tight spot, Heaven more than likely won’t help him.

Is one Starmaker worth that chance? Worth the Guardians of the Gates treating Aziraphale the way they treated Crowley?

No, Crowley decides. For all it does to break his heart, it’s not worth putting his angel in danger.

“I’m … I’m probably overreacting,” he says, forcing himself to calm down. “There’s … there’s no reason to drag you down there. They’ll be fine. They … they don’t need me.” He closes his eyes again. Aziraphale can see the pain on his face, the memory of that poor angel’s Fall, or maybe his own, playing behind his eyes.

The harsh reality is that those angels that Fall need to learn the hard way that Hell is a terrible place. No one is waiting in the wings (so to speak) to rescue them.

No matter how slight their sin.

But this is important to Crowley. Aziraphale knows it is.

And Crowley means the world to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale puts a hand beneath his husband’s chin, coaxes his eyes open with kisses to his lips. “It never hurts to check, my dear. I’ll go get my coat.”

***

Hard-packed dirt where very little grows.

Thick clouds of black, acrid smoke.

Yellow-orange sulfur seeping from the earth, super-heated and bubbling, popping, releasing noxious gas into the air.

Aziraphale pops the collar of his coat, holds the ends tight over his nose.

He hates the smell of Hell.

The pools of sulfur fallen angels nosedive into are located right outside the gates, so they’re still far from the mildew infested basement that is Hell’s head office.

But this outdoor landing pad is probably worse: surrounded by air that burns the sinuses with every breath, the breeze swirling around them hot and oppressive instead of cool and refreshing.

Looking up and seeing a Heaven that no longer welcomes you, stars you will never touch again.

He envisions Crowley here - scared, confused, emerging from the pits for the first time to see his beautiful, snowy-white wings blackened and singed, covered in this foul-smelling ooze.

All alone.

Consigned here by those he loved.

Aziraphale feels a long-building contempt for Heaven rise up in his chest and does everything to keep it at bay. This isn’t him, he reminds himself. Not really. It’s Hell’s influence. It’s too easy to surrender to anger here, which is why the Almighty sends the Archangels to conduct Heaven’s business in Hell.

They’re more immune to the air here.

“There they are!” Crowley says, rushing towards a pit about fifty feet from where they materialized, where a drenched and bedraggled set of wings sits atop an orange mess, attached to an angel … a demon … lying underneath the surface.

Aziraphale doesn’t rush to help. Best to let Crowley lead that charge. Instead, he keeps watch. He’s only been here a handful of times, but that’s definitely enough.

One time in particular, he could do without.

Aziraphale peers through the black smoke, trying to decipher their bearings. Crowley snapped them here. It’s the easiest way to come. Which means that Hell should know they’re there. Every time Crowley performs a miracle, they receive a fax. So there’s a fifty-fifty chance a welcoming committee of some sort might arrive.

The wind blows.

The smoke shifts.

Vacant mold-gray eyes catch his.

Bingo.

As the smoke continues to clear, Aziraphale gets a better view, and he smiles.

Luck, oddly, seems to be on his side.

“You stay here, my dear,” he says, not bothering to raise his voice since he knows Crowley will hear him. “I’ll take care of this.”

Aziraphale isn’t a vengeful angel. His job is to inspire humanity, to spread love.

Wrath is normally reserved for Archangels.

But as in most things, Aziraphale doesn’t feel they’ve done their jobs right for close to a millennium.

And besides, this is personal.

Aziraphale strolls up to the demon hopping through the sulfur pits in his direction.

“You’re Dagon, right?” he asks.

The demon slows, approaches warily, not expecting to meet Aziraphale (of all entities) after the memo they received.

Not expecting to see an angel flash a smile that is eerily at home here in Hell.

“What’s it to you?” Dagon asks.

“Come on. Let me preen these for you,” Aziraphale hears Crowley say to the new demon he’s helping out of the sulfur. “And take my advice … learn to do it for yourself. You don’t want to ask anyone down here for help.”

“Nothing, my dear.” Aziraphale steps to the right, blocking Dagon when they try to blow past. “I just like to know whom I’m addressing. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Aziraphale sashays left - another block that leaves Dagon gnashing their teeth in frustration. “Crowley says you’re a rather creative demon … when it comes to cruelty and violence.”

Dagon squashes their plan to leap around the angel and grins proudly at that remark. “Did he now?”

“Indeed,” Aziraphale returns, the words as dry as the ground beneath his feet. “In fact, he told me that from the first day he Fell you couldn’t keep your hands off him. I almost got jealous … until he elaborated.”

Dagon’s face falls, their eyes blank, but they snicker when they catch on.

Every time Dagon tore at Crowley’s wings.

Every time they put a hot iron to Crowley’s skin, tied him up and whipped him for his treachery.

Or worse …

That’s what the angel is referring to.

Dagon can’t help noticing the loathing in Aziraphale’s eyes, the undeniable rage.

And Dagon smiles.

Anger feeds demons like well-roasted mutton. It intoxicates them like wine.

And the anger of an angel?

That’s about the finest vintage any demon can find on earth.

Hence why calling off the war disappointed them so.

It makes Dagon long to stab Crowley in the back with their claws to see how angry this angel can get.

What Dagon might be able to convince him to do.

Dagon tries to dash past again, but Aziraphale is surprisingly quick. This time, Dagon walks straight into Aziraphale’s chest and stops short.

It’s like walking into a brick wall.

Dagon sniffs. They refuse to be intimidated by an angel. Especially a plump and useless little Principality like this one. Dagon remembers Ligur talking about what the Archangels think of him, how they have no respect for him.

Thinking of Ligur reminds Dagon that that demon is gone. Gone at the hands of Crowley, who doused them with Holy Water.

Holy Water he got from this angel.

The only angel in Heaven that can withstand Hellfire, pudgy or not.

Dagon’s face goes pale. They swallow hard. Those memories of torturing Crowley, the times they’d been so proud of, flood their mind with vivid sound and color.

Staring at this angel’s cold, hard expression, they begin to regret every single one.

“You look parched,” Aziraphale says with an unexpectedly warm smile.

“Yeah, well, it’s hot down here,” Dagon growls suspiciously. “Otherwise it wouldn’t be Hell.”

“True, true. That’s why I brought this.” Aziraphale reaches into his inside coat pocket and pulls out a tartan Thermos. Dagon stiffens at the reveal, but they’re too curious to back away.

It’s just a Thermos. How much damage could Aziraphale possibly do with a Thermos?

“It’s … it’s a Thermos,” the demon points out.

“Yes,” Aziraphale says in a condescending tone. “Very good. And what do you think it’s filled with?” He pulls off the cup and puts it in his pocket, then unscrews the cap. “I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count.”

Dagon scoffs. “How the Heaven should I …?” Their eyes blow wide as context melds together in one harrowing spark of realization. “That wouldn’t be … Holy Water? W-would it?” Dagon takes a step back, but Aziraphale’s hand shoots out, grabs the demon by the wrist. Thick, sausage fingers wrap tightly around, solid as stone.

“You know,” Aziraphale says in a low, gravelly voice to match, “I don’t like the way you’ve treated my husband.”

Dagon pulls, trying to break free, but Aziraphale has a grip like iron. “We’re … we’re demons! It’s what we do! Wot did you expect?”

“Doesn’t matter what I expect. It matters what I’ll tolerate.” Aziraphale lifts the Thermos to his mouth and takes a drink. Dagon stares as Aziraphale gulps the blessed liquid, licking his lips when he’s done. But from the sound of sloshing, there seems to be plenty left. “Oh! How rude of me,” Aziraphale says, holding the Thermos out to his captive. “Fancy a sip?”

Dagon’s eyes nearly pop out of their head. “You … you wouldn’t!”

“Wouldn’t I?” Aziraphale lifts the Thermos over Dagon’s wrist where it’s caught in the angel’s fist. “By the way, I wouldn’t tug too hard if I were you. I am clumsy. I might slip. It only takes one drop to dissolve a demon.” On cue, a single drop begins to form on the silver lip of the container. Angel and demon watch it grow, dangle like a trapeze artist lowering themselves down the rung of their swing, preparing to jump. Aziraphale looks on in amusement; Dagon in utter horror. The drop lengthens, heaves, the tenuous connection thinning as it threatens to break.

“N … n-no! “ Dagon stutters, lurching backward, but Aziraphale holds on impossibly tighter.

“What was that you said?” Aziraphale asks, taking his eyes away from the precarious drop, not caring a whit for its fate.

“It … it’s going to fall!”

Aziraphale shakes his head, inadvertently shaking the Thermos as well. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t quite …”

Aziraphale doesn’t finish his sentence.

He sticks out his tongue and catches the drop seconds before it falls.

Dagon makes a strangled sound as they struggle to recoil.

Aziraphale watches the demon flail in his grasp and laughs. “Phew! Will you look at that? That was a close one!”

“You’ll … you’ll start a war!” Dagon cries, utilizing this momentary reprieve since the Thermos is still there, held aloft by the angel, his loathing brewing into a full-fledged flame. “A war between demons and angels! You didn’t want that, re-remember?”

Aziraphale shrugs. “Perhaps I’ve changed my mind. You wanted a war, didn’t you? Well, now you’ll get your wish, provided doing away with you is impetus enough to start one. Pity you won’t be around to join in. I’ve heard you give some rousing pep talks.”

“N-now, listen to reason, angel …”

Aziraphale’s grip around Dagon’s wrist ratchets from tight to bone-crushing, almost bringing Dagon to their knees. They lose their footing, but Aziraphale drags them closer, holds them upright by that one thin and straining joint.

“You … don’t get to call me that!”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I …”

“Aziraphale …” Crowley’s voice creeps into Aziraphale’s ear. It sounds distant for the pounding in Aziraphale’s head, but it’s mere inches away “… don’t ...”

Aziraphale doesn’t turn to look at his husband, the full force of his anger trained on this one pathetic demon, ready to turn them into dust with the weight of that alone. But Aziraphale pictures Crowley’s amber eyes in his mind - doe wide and pleading.

Begging for no more.

“Are you sure, my dear?”

“Yes.” A hand finds Aziraphale’s shoulder and squeezes gently. “I’m sure. Don’t do this. For me?”

Aziraphale shudders. He would do anything for Crowley, give him anything he wanted … but he can’t seem to do this. For all his posturing, all of his simply wanting to put the fear of God into this demon for everything Crowley said they’ve done, he can’t just let go. With his Thermos poised over the green-gray and fetid skin of their arm, he’s so ready to pour.

And it would feel good.

It would feel like righting a wrong.

The wrong of Aziraphale not being around to protect Crowley when he truly needed protecting.

But the kneading of his shoulder muscles loosens his grip ever so slightly. A kiss on the crown of his head loosens it more.

“Angel,” Crowley whispers against his scalp, his cheek pressing there to enjoy the softness of his hair, “please?”

“Urgh! All right!” Aziraphale grumbles, releasing his grip. He’d been holding on so tight, it takes a few seconds for his corporal form to actually detach, sending Dagon stumbling back, landing undignified on their tailbone in the sulfur. “But just you remember, Dagon,” Aziraphale adds, straightening his waistcoat, “the next time you get it in your empty head to try and do something … anything … to my husband, that he’s the only reason you’re not a puddle right now. Yes?”

“Y-yes,” the demon stutters. “I-I’ll remember.”

“In that case, I do believe some appreciation is in order.”

Dagon shoots a glare Crowley’s way. Not an inch of conceit can they see on Crowley’s face, only concern for his angel. And that makes Dagon furious. Despite themselves, Dagon scowls. But seeing as Aziraphale has put no cover on his Thermos and could always change his mind (that’s what Dagon would do) Dagon has little choice. “Thank you,” they grind through pointed teeth.

“Thank you what?” Aziraphale stresses.

If Aziraphale weren’t both immune to Hellfire and carrying a Thermos of Holy Water, Dagon would bolt out of that pool of sulfur and rip him to shreds.

At least, that’s what they tell themselves.

“Thank you … sir.”

“Better. Now run along. My compassion only lasts so long in this place, and it’s getting rather hot out here.” Aziraphale swirls the Thermos in Dagon’s direction, taking another drink as the demon scurries away, mumbling under their breath. The sulfur pits become tensely quiet, thicker and heavier than the black smoke stinging their eyes.

“Aziraphale …?”

“How’s the fallen Starmaker?” Aziraphale asks before Crowley can finish. Whether he intended on thanking Aziraphale or lecturing him, Aziraphale isn’t ready to hear it.

Crowley sighs. “As good as can be expected.”

“Well, that’s the best we can hope for, I suppose,” Aziraphale says with a sympathetic smile.

“Don’t you think that was going a little too far?” Crowley asks, lowering his voice and gesturing toward a sulking Dagon with his chin.

“Not at all. In fact … would you like to make your friend Dagon over there lose their bowels, so to speak?”

“Only always.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Without question.”

“Take a nice long swig out of that, my dear,” Aziraphale says, handing off the Thermos.

Crowley knows this Thermos. Knows it well. He pauses when Aziraphale offers it to him. Touching it gives him a jolt, fills his brain with the echoes of Ligur’s screams, but he can’t betray fear for one second. He’s supposed to be the demon who can withstand Holy Water, after all.

Plus he trusts Aziraphale … more than anything.

He brings the Thermos to his lips and throws his head back, taking the biggest mouthful he can before his survival instincts can force him to stop and spit it out. He hears Dagon curse from across the sulfur pits, and Crowley almost sputters. His eyelids squeeze, preparing for the burn of the righteous.

It burns, all right, but it doesn’t dissolve him into the dirt.

“It’s … it’s not Holy Water,” Crowley comments only loud enough for Aziraphale to hear, helping himself to another hefty mouthful. “It’s not water at all! It’s vodka!”

“Oh dear. Look at that,” Aziraphale says in a dry, sarcastic tone. “I brought the wrong Thermos. I’ll be more aware of how I pack next time.”

Crowley shakes his head, wrapping his arms around his angel’s body and holding him tight. “You know, you’re pretty sexy when you’re being all guardian angel and stuff.”

“Yes, well, it’s only for you, my love,” Aziraphale says, resting his head against Crowley’s chest and hugging him back, more than ready for his husband to snap them back home. “Only for you.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #prince of omens

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forcedapotheosis-blog · 7 years

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Gloomy Days Chapter III.2

Chapter III.2 – The Committed

Oooooh shit fellas, look who finally got his shit together! People (like .. four people, including myself), rejoice! I finally finished the next chapter and .. I honestly don’t know what to think about it. It’s a bit different from the chapters before and I shamelessly use the current PoV to fill you in on what happened before the story.

So, there’s actually a lot to say before the start. First of all, thank you. All of you who read the story, who followed it and subscribed to it and, most of all, to the friendly people who review it! I mean, damn, that’s a whole new level for me and be sure that you have my deepest, sincerest gratitude for doing that.

And because I can, have some personal words:

Yoontae (on tumblr): You’ve been among the first to reblog and comment on the fiction and, if you’re still reading it, thank you. After I released the first two chapters of it, I was on the edge if I should go through with it. You pushed me over that edge.

EastBlue (on ffDotnet): What can I say that I haven’t already said? I dedicated the last chapter to you for a reason. Your reviews kept me going and I earnestly hope that you will enjoy this one, too. I cannot thank you enough for the kind words. Please understand that I hold you in the highest regard for sacrificing your time to write these reviews and for making my day a little brighter.

EsVendetta (on ffDotnet): Let me tell you, I’m a bit of a .. flimsy or non-committed writer. I don’t try to think too hard about the stories and how they should continue until somethings sparks the fire, which leads to many ideas that died before they had the chance to bloom. You know, personal life and stuff that can just become annoying. And then you casually read a review that is full of appreciation and BOOM, it’s there, the fire has been sparked again and I personally think that in that moment, my mind actually committed on finding out how to continue the story. I can’t thank you enough for that.

DWatson (on AO3): Holy shit, dude (or dudette), I don’t know where to start. When I read your review I was sitting in the library, actually trying to focus on work, but .. yeah, after I read it I had to go out to have a cigarette, because it just made me so damn happy that my body trembled for minutes on end. I was (and pretty much still am) at a loss for words and my English is not nearly as good enough as it should be to express the full scale of my appreciation for your kind words.

That said, I hope everyone enjoys the following chapter.

People who’re saying that children are a blessing should make it clear that they’re only talking about their own., the man told himself while he watched two of them, around the ages of 5-7 or so, running around wildly, sometimes even recklessly, playing and making a general mess of everything they came in contact with. It was easy for him to tell that one was a boy, the other one a girl, no matter how fast they were and under how many tables they crouched, hiding, finding and hunting the other. His trained eyes told him even more, not only the obvious stuff about the colours of their hair, but even that the boy had lively green eyes and a genuine, broad smile that reminded him of a certain person. The girl’s eyes were of a deep blue, and more of the thoughtful and reflective kind. As far as he could tell, and he could tell a lot, while the girl seemed to have genuine fun during their activities, she was the calm one of the duo. But the raw, youthful energy of the boy didn’t leave her with any time for second thoughts, so she just went with it. Well, I had to be blind to not draw certain associations with my, our own life watching this, right? And he certainly had a point. The boy fearlessly approached strangers and talked to them about one thing or another while the girl, rather shyly, stood in the background. But sooner or later, she would join the conversation. And the old saying that still waters run deep came true once again. The next time he watched the two of them, the girl was wildly gesticulating with her arms, as far as he could tell to describe the size of a sea king she heard a story about. No, he certainly couldn’t blame them just for being children, even moreso if you took into account that a formal wedding ceremony with a lot of strangers could also prove boring to an adult. And an adult he was, wasn’t he? Just minding my own business here, aye. His thoughts were taken back into the present when he felt soft fingers gently brushing over his hand and with a smile, he turned to his right. “Is something the matter, my love?”, the blonde woman next to him whispered in his ear with her pleasant and clear voice. He could never help himself when she talked to him, when they shared even the slightest of touches. And he knew how lucky he had been that it was always her. No matter where he was, it’s always been her. Softly, he put his own hand onto hers and slighty turned his face towards his right. “See those children, Kaya? I think she’s telling that old guy and his wife stories about monsters.”, that led her to a soft chuckle. “Like the ones you always told me about, the ones you actually faced yourself?”, he nodded while his unconventionally long nose was pointing at the children like an index finger. “You want to go over there and tell them a real story, dearest?”, she continued to whisper in his ear, accompanied by a silent chuckle. “Nah, they’re young, let them hav..” – “WOW! See that nose, Mira?!”, the boy cried out in excitement when he spotted him. Or rather, his nose. With a swift move, he took his companion’s hand and without a word of parting, they left the old guy and his, supposed, wife and began their way towards Kaya and him. And the same as it was before, the little girl held herself in the background whilst the boy spoke. Doesn’t look like they’re siblings, was the last thought before the ‘confrontation’ began. “Do you have the longest nose in the world?! Can you smell your friends wherever they are?!”, he began to blurt out enthusiastically while still holding the girl’s hand. They seemed nice enough and the more the boy talked, the more it reminded him of that one trait that his captain had embodied all throughout his life, helping him to make fast friends with just about everyone, even with some of their enemies. Well, they came all the way over to their seats, why not give them a little show? He sighed dramatically, shook his head and covered his eyes. His voice was higher than usual when he started talking, as he tried to underline the fact that they somehow hurt his feelings. “I’m sure you children wouldn’t talk like that if you knew who I am!”, he began his play and Kaya leaned back into her seat, smiling all the time. Now both of the children got big eyes as it, of course, wasn’t their intention to hurt someone’s feelings, but again, only the boy spoke. “We’re very sorry, mister! Really!”, he said in an apologetic tone that made it even harder for the man not to smile. He had to play a role, for God’s sake! That’s when he let out another sigh but nevertheless grabbed two empty chairs next to them which he pulled towards him. “You’re really sorry, is that so? Sit down, kids. I feel that you deserve a treat.”, surprisingly enough, the young boy was quick to oblige, occupying one of the chairs. His companion still held back, though, looking at him with these big, blue eyes. That was enough to force a smile onto his lips and he softly spoke to her. “I don’t bite, little princess. You might not know it, but I’m the great grandson of a famous knight of the seas. His name was Sogeking and he was born on the mythical Sniper Island. On my life and my good name, that one being Usopp, I would never harm a young girl.”, and something in his smile did seem to move her. Even though she remained quiet, she placed herself on the chair next to the young boy who, figuratively, rushed to her defense. “Mira doesn’t talk a lot, mister, and ..”, being as oblivious as only a child could be, he leaned forward to whisper into his ear. Of course, this would still be loud enough for even Kaya to hear and would have been considered incredibly impolite, but the girl didn’t seem to mind. “She’s sad that her .. her parents are planning to move away from our village.”, the cheerfulness in his voice was gone in that moment and Usopp had the feeling that the thought alone hurt the little boy more than he was ready to admit. Somehow, it stung. Usopp slowly raised his hand and softly padded the boy on the shoulder, not even trying to return the whisper as to be sure that Mira might hear it, too. “Don’t you worry about it, young friend. Friendship, true friendship, knows no bounds. Neither distance nor time apart will diminish what you have..”, unconsciously, his eyes left the boy’s face and wandered through the ballroom, only stopping when they found a familiar form in the crowd. Alone, but not forgotten. Silent, but not unheard. A knight is a knight, even fallen from grace, far away from all he ever cherished and loved., he slightly shook his head again and felt a shiver running down his spine. Kaya must have felt it, too, as her fingers gently brushed over his. He didn’t need to look at her to know that she was smiling her signature smile, the one that made him happy and gave him strength at the same time. “Are you alright, mister?”, the boy asked with a concerned look on his face. Even the little girl, Mira, looked at him with big, blue eyes, but remained silent. “It’s .. yeah, it’s alright, young friend. What’s there to be worried about? My great grandfather has been an invincible warrior of the seas, and this runs in the family!”, he let go of the boys shoulder and leaned back a little, trying to look all smug and confident. “Will you tell us a story about your grandfater?”, the boy asked and a few seconds ago, he would’ve answered with a clear ‘yes’. But there was another story that needed to be told, a far more important one for the occasion. His time in the limelight was made for another story, maybe even told by a different author. “I’m going to tell you a story about my grandfather’s companions, all great and noble ladies and fearless warriors in their own right!”, he began and bound the attention of both children and Kaya to his words. And the attention of a fourth person, without even knowing that there was one. “A long, long time ago, somewhere out on the vastness of the ocean, there had been a small but happy kingdom. But that’s nothing special, right? Well, let me tell you that it was a special kind of kingdom, a moving kingdom! People all over the world called it the Moving Kingdom of Sunny! You don’t believe me? Just ask anyone, they’ll tell you that everything is true! So, this moving kingdom was ruled by a young king who went by the name of .. eh .. Gruffy! Yes, that was the king’s name and his crown had a peculiar form, it was shaped like a hat! I bet that you’ve never seen a crown that looks like a hat, haven’t you? But they exist, even though they’re incredibly rare! So, this king .. Gruffy, he was young and full of energy and, I tell you that, he had an incredible love for food. If you would’ve met him, you would think that he loved nothing more than to eat. But, sorry to disappoint, you’d be wrong about that. He loved all of his subjects unconditionally and his closest friends, my great grandfather Sogeking was one of them, he loved even more than that, close to life itself! Can you imagine that?”, he waited for a second and saw rather confused faces in front of him. “You don’t need to go too far, kids. Just look at yourselves. It’s just like your friendship! King Gruffy would gladly have taken any fight to protect his friends, with little to no regard for his own safety, so much did he love them. One was a beautiful and young princess who went by the name of ..”, Well, they’re kids, but I assume that they’re not dumb .. so .. what?, he took a small break to think of another name that wouldn’t give away too much “Rami! Yes, the fiery princess was called Rami and let me tell you, she was incredibly clever. A genius, one could say, and she would always know what weather was to come! And besides that, she was a formidable warrior princess and her foes feared her, but they also admired her beauty, especially her fiery red hair that led many a man to fall in love at first glance. But she wasn’t the only close friend of King Gruffy, who had all but adopted her, of course. Two of his other friends were rather young knights, but despite their young age, they did cast the shadows of giants. The first was called Loro and he was a warrior of unmatched prowess, so legendary was his skill that the people of the Kingdom of Sunny called him a sword saint! And then there was the other knight, a fine and peerless warrior in his own right with hair as bright as the sun and a good heart to match that colour. His name was .. Janji? Yeah, Janji it was, .. I think!”, he paused for a second and took a good look at the children’s faces. They seemed to be rather captivated by the beginning of his story, maybe the boy was dreaming the same dream as countless other boys? Being a knight, a warrior of the sea, defending the weak and fighting the good fight? It surprised him a little that even the shy girl was smiling adorably, maybe beneath her taciturn facade, there were still dreams about being a princess? In a few years, she might look the part. “Hahaha, these two knights .. oh, I .. I mean, my grandfather told me unbelievable stories about their rivalry, you wouldn’t believe that. Even the giants of the legendary island of Elbaf knew about them! But I tell you, their rivalry was nothing too serious, as they were brothers in all but name. To be precise, all of them were a family in all but blood, like the two of you. You care deeply about one another, right? It was the same with them. The good King Gruffy even allowed his bard, a man so thin that everyone called him ‘Skellyman’, to sit at the same table all the other nobles and friends used to feast. He was a dear friend and the whole world should see it. All of them were bonded to each other with ties as strong as to the closest family. And .. maybe even a little more. My granddad always said that the knight, Janji that is, was incredibly infatuated with princess Rami and tried to win her favour countless of times. He courted her in every way imaginable, left large bouquets of the rarest and most beautiful flowers for her to find and, oh, he was heavenly gifted when it came to that, he cooked her food that even the God’s would drool about! I kid you not, .. I mean, my granddad told me that the food he made was just so perfect in every way that one could imagine. And you know what the best thing about that was? The fiery princess Rami slowly warmed up to the knight and theirs was a friendship, maybe even more than that, that many a bard would write songs about. I mean, she never confessed any feelings towards him, but the way she behaved .. oh, that’s a whole other story. You know, kids, the thing with the best, or at least the most captivating stories is that they need a problem. A huge problem. And exactly that arrived on one fateful day that none of them would ever be able to forget. I'll tell you the story my great grandfather told to my granddad.."

We were chasing the beast for nearly five days straight, and it showed. First, we began to run low on food, only a little later our water supplies were fading away. On the fourth day, everybody was regretting that we had even started this hunt. Even worse was the fact that everywhere around us, there was water to find. But the inhabitants of the nearby village had warned us not to drink it, as it would turn people into what they called 'Aberrations' sooner or later, and there was no known treatment. We actually saw one of these Aberrations. There were clear traces of it having once been a human, though viciously malformed. That one was dead, otherwise there wouldn't have been a chance to get a closer look. And the human traces were .. dubious, to be fair. It had the same four limbs – that looked rather forcefully elongated - that humans possessed and with a lot of good will, you could say that the face could've belonged to a human, too. With four eyes of a milky white colour, so that one might have thought them blind. That specimen even had human hair on its head which made it all the more creepy and surreal.

But the captain ("Sorry, the King", he corrected himself) had given his promise that we would not return – I would've agreed with that since the village was boring, anyway – nor rest (I really wasn't content with that) until we had found and run down that terrible beast they were all talking about. Nobody could say how it looked like as there had never been any survivors, nobody knew how it would fight. But the villagers – and us, too – knew that it existed.

The whole area we were running through had actually been really pleasant and easy on the eyes. The forest canopy was thick and only a little sunlight (or moonlight, since we didn't stop the chase even during the nighttime) made its way through, but everything looked just so peaceful with the dimmed light, the still water and the silent trees. Even the resident fauna was as silent and non-malicious as it could be. The few animals we spotted in the trees usually just took a look of slight interest at us and ran away right after. No giant cats or other predators were running rampant. Even though we somehow wished for just .. anything to happen. And eating the meat of a carnivore wasn't something we had never done before.

Still, thirst and hunger and not knowing if – or when – the Abarrations would finally attack us wasn't our worst enemy. See, when we entered the area through a long path that lead away from the village, we were greeted by .. something that sounded awfully like a wailing song, with no singer being around. At least none that one could see. The 'song' itself, if you could call it that, somehow was eerily pleasant, though. It didn't make our ears bleed nor did it have an immediate effect on our sanity. And at first, even for the first hours .. the first two days, it didn't get intrusive. But imagine listening to the very same song, one that didn't even have words, but only wailing, for five days straight. Five days in which you have been running, chasing some .. thing that you basically knew nothing about. Your supplies run low and the only thing that kept you going was the inhuman stamina of your body and the sheer force of an indomitable will. That was just .. bound to take a heavy toll on you. Next to the King and myself, there were four more of us. Rami, the fiery princess, Janji, who continually proclaimed to protect her as it would befit a knight, Loro, who just wanted nothing more than to slay the beast and sleep for two weeks straight and, as our last companion, the bard they called Skellyman. Oh, don't worry, even though singing and playing the violin was his area of expertise, he was a formidable fighter in his own right. The six of us should have been enough to perish everything short of a god.

We were wrong.

When the sun arose on the sixth day, we found what we were looking for. And, dear gods, I wish we never did. We thought that we cornered the beast in its cave and the King and his two faithful knights were itching for a fight. Happy to leave everything, especially that .. that terrible song behind! And son, when it finally came to blows, everything seemed just normal, everyday practice. That beast looked like a giant toad, but with only two legs. As I said, nothing out of the orderly, right? The King, his knights, even the princess, the bard and me went all out when coming face to face with the beast. At least we thought that it was face to face. But the monster’s skin was incredibly sturdy though and not even with our forces combined were we able to damage it.

What happened then, we took for a good sign. It wasn't. All of a sudden, the song vanished and everyone froze. Just .. being in silence was a relief. But then the toad opened what we thought was its mouth and .. oh gods, two giant, lanky green arms seemed to sprout from it, tearing the 'mouth' open even wider. Beneath all that sturdy skin, there was a face! And with an utterly inhuman voice that was as deep as the vast ocean, it GROANED!

Not only did Usopp try to recreate the deep, stoneshattering groan that all of them heard, but also the face that was lying underneath the sturdy skin. With questionable success, one might add. The two kids just looked at him and at each other in confusion while Kaya chuckled softly.

"Ah, well .. okay, it just looked scary, trust me!"

He was right. The face under that dark green skin was green aswell, even though of a lighter tone, just like the arms it had used to tear its own skin away. It looked like .. the giant, wrinkled face of an incredibly old woman, but without eyes and teeth, mouth – a second mouth, if you want - wide open. Just human enough that one might draw the association, but just so inhuman on the other hand that it even shook the fearless hearts of the King and his knights. And that was all the time it .. and they needed. Countless of the beasts that were known as Aberrations had arrived, no longer dormant as the song had become silent. They moved inhumanly fast and swarmed us, within seconds our offensive had died and we were in full retreat.

Everyone fought valiantly, the King, myself, the princess, his knights, even the bard. There were countless beasts, but we were warriors of renown! .. and thinking that, forgetting about the giant toad itself, didn't help our cause. Not in the slightest. As I told you, son, we were in full retreat when the beasts started their vicious attack. We retreated towards the entrance of the cave which was so slim that only two people were able to walk side by side, the others had to move after them. And it just was swarming with them .. oh, you poor knight.

The King and Loro took the lead, fighting off every single Aberration that was coming from the front, the princess and myself were in the middle as both of our weapons required some space between us and the foe while the knight Janji and the Skellyman guarded our rear. To be honest with you, I .. I don't know what happened. All I know is that Janji stumbled, that he fell to the ground and .. within just a few seconds, they were upon him. Three of the beasts, maybe four, trying to claw out his heart, his eyes .. foul teeth gnawing on his limbs in ravenous hunger .. and it took him and us just too long to get rid of them.

Don’t get me wrong, in that very moment, all of us failed. The princess and I were too slow in helping the knight to get rid of the beasts and poor Skellyman was on his own against the ever growing tide of new beasts arriving. We .. we should have been faster. Could have been faster, but we weren’t. None of us knew it, but every action we had taken since our arrival on the island was an action to dig the graves for our collective dreams.

The onslaught of beasts seemed unending, the ones that befell Janji were still there and we were in danger of losing him. And if there was any rule we tried to live by, it was that no one should ever be left behind. He cried out in pain when fangs tore apart the flesh of his limbs, but he was still fighting. He had an oath to uphold. The princess wept bitter tears as she struck down lightning on the beasts and myself, I shouted. Shouted for my father to watch over me, prayed for him to acknowledge his son as a true warrior and worthy heir to Sniper Island. It was all for naught.

By now, the beasts were nearly upon us and the Skellyman fought at the absolute height of his skill. That thin man that people could mistake for a skeleton fought with the ire and prowess of a god of war, but it wasn’t enough. The second he cut down another of these Aberrations, it was already too late. The princess and I disposed of the last beast that was clinging to Janji’s body, but he was all but incapacitated. Still conscious, though, he told us to leave him behind as they might stop the pursuit if they had the opportunity to feed on him. But neither the King, his brother-in-arms, the bard, myself and, least of all, the princess Rami would allow that.

It was then that our obliviousness concerning the giant toad beast broke our backs. A long arm of a light green colour appeared out of nowhere, rushing through the darkness of the entrance and a gigantic, mighty hand grabbed the body of the princess, willing to take her with it for reasons that I don’t even want to think about. The young knight cried out in terror as he wasn’t able to protect her, I myself was struck aside by the unexpected force behind that arm and nearly lost consciousness. The King and the sword saint wanted to help, but they couldn’t, as the countless number of Abberations grew even larger and, although they had their powers combined, it became increasingly difficult to fend them off.

That was the moment the heroic bard made a decision.

He began hacking away at the arm and drew the ire of this centuries old monster .. or demon onto himself. His elegant and slender blade cut deep into its flesh, but that only poured fuel into the fire. Under the helpless shouts of the knight, he managed to break the princess free. But oh, at what cost?

The beast had two arms.

And he was inhumanly calm when the second one came out of the shadows and took a hold of his body. I vividly remember his last words, son, a sign of true companionship .. true nakamaship, compassion, loyalty and honour. His last words were those of a hero that shall never be forgotten.

With a bitter smile, he gazed at the young knight.

“Let this be my turn, Janji. I have lived long enough. Allow me to take your place, just this once. So that you have the chance to be there for her, come the light of a new morning. Yohohoho!”

And thus, he vanished into darkness without a trace.

“You have to understand the gravity of this situation, children. No one wanted to leave him behind and they tried to turn around to rescue the bard, but it was all for naught. Wave after wave of Abberations crashed into them and they were forced out of the cave, and not even the righteous, selfdestructive ire of the King could stand against a whole world that had so quickly become hostile. And to make matters worse, immediately with the vanishing of the bard, the whole island began to .. sink. King Gruffy had to make one of the most difficult and painful decisions in his entire life. Save his crew .. I mean, his people and break his oath or sacrifice all of them and let the heroic sacrifice of his bard go into nothingness.”, Usopp didn’t care for the tears that filled his eyes, nor for the trembling of his body. It was all too vivid.

“But .. it all worked out in the end, didn’t it? It’s not a good story unless it has a happy end!”, the eyes of the children were watery, too. They didn’t fully grasp the concept of the bard’s heroic sacrifice, but they understood friendship and duty towards one another all too well.

“I .. I must admit that I don’t know about that. All of us .. I mean, all of my great grandfather’s companions were shaken and lost sight of their dreams, remaining a shattered, aimless bunch of misfits .. but maybe it’ll make you happy that some of them were able to find meaning in their lives? Maybe even happiness.”

“I don’t like that. And neither does Mira!”, the boy proclaimed, unconsciously clinging on to the hand of his friend as if she provided him with energy.

“They .. they lived, at least. Though the King lost his crown and within a few years, the Kingdom of Sunny was no more .. Loro began pursueing the remnants of his dream on his own, my great grandfather returned to Sniper Island to find comfort in the arms of his queen..”, he squeezed Kayas hand to ease the trembling of his body. “.. and the princess and her knight .. I don’t know if you’d understand it. He swore an oath to always be there to protect her .. and the one single time he failed, a dear friend paid with his life. The whole image that San- .. the knight had carefully constructed of himself was shattered in a single moment. He told himself that he disappointed everyone and finally, he too left what remained of the kingdom. I don’t know what has become of him, maybe an aimless knight errant, but I dearly hope that he found himself when he travelled alone.”, again, he broke eye-contact with the boy and his gaze wandered to where the familiar form was found before.

And there he was, still standing, still alive but not whole again, watching his image in the corner of a large mirror that was fastened to a wall. Usopp couldn’t help himself but to imagine this man, this knight with hair as bright as the sun, as a burdened, broken man, clad in old-fashioned armor, his hand chained to a past and a princess he was desperately trying to forget.

“I hope that some day, all of us .. but especially the knight will answer the call again. To face our decisions and try to make them right again. Or .. at least find the strength to live with them.”, he didn’t care about the words he chose. After all, it was their story.

What happened after that immediately reached the bottom of his heart. An astounding show of innate human goodness and the sometimes flawless perception of .. a pure-hearted and caring child. This scene alone would leave him in absolute awe for days to come, fondest memory and living prove that humans, even if their existence was without a higher purpose, still wished to help one another.

It was the young girl, Mira, who let go of her friend’s hand and stood up from her chair, slowly, even a bit clumsily following the path of Usopp’s gaze until she finally reached the lonely knight.

Sanji ..

He wasn’t aware of her until she grabbed his hand. Seconds passed before he understood and knelt down to talk to her. Or .. not. There weren’t enough words in the entire world to even come close to one simple, kind-hearted gesture. That shy girl of few words embraced the graceless knight and his eyes began to fill with tears of gratitude.

Maybe not all is lost. Maybe there is still hope ..

He turned around when he heard someone standing up, mixed with .. what sounded like the rustling of a bird’s feathers, but there was no one to be found, except Kaya who still held his hand. If one asked him later, he would say that he heard a voice too, neither male nor female, ethereal, speaking only in whispered words.

“There’s no need to talk to this one, he has what it takes.”

Kaya smiled at him, but her eyes were watery.

“I want you to chase your dreams, my love .. make us proud. You know that I’ll be yours, forever.”, she whispered, embracing him to share a kiss so tender that he felt it everywhere on his body.

And then, she gently put his hand on her stomach.

Make .. us proud?!

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