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auty-ren · 3 years

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The Offer: Chapter 8

Distractions

Pairings: The Mandalorian x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader, ClanLeader!Din x Reader.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Smut (oral (m), exhibitionism, rough sex, penetrative sex, public (outdoor) sex, doggy style, breeding kink, dirty talk). Descriptions of canonical violence. Implied injury. Talk of children/pregnancy. Fluff. Talk of death/’meaning of life.’ Honeymoon shenanigans. Two big idiots being in love. A little surprise for all the Mira stans out there.

A/n: I hope y’all are ready for some more world-building! We get to see a bit into Din’s past in this chapter, and shed some light on some possible ulterior motives. Second a/n at the bottom! Hope y’all enjoy💗.

Summary: Din and you finally didn't the time to slow down for a bit and you find out quickly that you weren't the only ones who had something planned.

The Offer Masterlist | My Masterlist

The stone beneath your fingertips was rough, pewter-colored grains gathering at the edge of the brick you sat on until you flicked them off with your finger. You squinted and watched the few larger pieces you could see as they fell to the ground, collecting just a few inches from your feet. A chunkier, darker colored boot came into your line of sight and you followed the path up his legs until you were met with the matte blue of Paz’s visor. You squinted through a smile as he tilted his head, blocking the sun from your face and gesturing to your boot.

“Do you like them?”

The leather squeaked as you flexed your toes in your boot, your foot turning to the side as you lift your leg a little to show it off. You nodded, a sheepish grin plastering across your face knocked your heels together.

Paz didn't have to ask where you had gotten them; they were brand new, a practically perfect fit, and made specifically for you.

“....at your husband's request.”

You shouldn't have expected less from Din, especially from the way he had reacted when the sole of your original shoe finally gave out. He had made such a big deal out of it; even after you told him it was fine, tossing them to the side and continuing with a simple pair of slip-ons you had. Din wasn't so quick to dismiss it, he picked up the boot in question and watched as the split in the arch grew wider and puckered when he squeezed it in his hand.

It was a surprise to find the new pair sitting on the table this morning, along with a note handwritten by Din.

“These have been made for you at your husband's request. Please, take very good care of them. -Din.”

You could practically hear the playful attitude in his voice and picture the laugh he probably had as he wrote out the words.

The written ink was smeared, the corners of the spare paper fraying, and some of the letters were hard to make out; but you loved all of it, every flaw and every second of care that Din had poured into such a simple thing. You had smoothed out any creases that had been left in the paper, being careful to not spread any of the ink further, and placed the note inside one of the books in the chest that sat at the end of your shared bed, another one of Din's gifts. It felt silly sometimes to hold on to such trivial things; but when you read the note again, one last time before putting it in the chest for safe-keeping, it didn't feel silly at all. It felt warm and airy and it tickled your cheeks with a feeling you had only ever had around Din.

“You don’t have to wait with me you know?” you peered up at Paz and tilted your head to mirror his. “I’m perfectly capable of finding him without you.”

“I know that Vod’ika,” Paz crossed his arms and leaned against the same wall you sat on. “I figured you would like the company.”

“Always,” you bumped your shoulder against his playfully, looking to the entry of the great hall just a few feet from where you sat.

It was quiet around the great hall, most people being respectful of the council and leaving an empty and silent place for them to work in. You stood from your seat, walking just a few steps in front of you until you were met with the adjacent wall, leaning forward and craning your neck to look at the sky.

“Did he say why he sent for me?” you questioned, though it wasn't bothersome on your end, it did make you wonder what was so important for Din to send someone for you instead of just looking for you himself.

“He only asked me to bring you to him, once the council had finished,” Paz gestured to the door. “They should be done at any moment.”

It wasn't a few minutes later that you found yourself walking the halls just a few steps behind Paz, Mandalorians passed the two of you; your path seemingly going in the wrong direction from the way they flowed down the hall. You nodded to the people who noticed you, most of them giving a simple acknowledgment of your presence; the few without helmets offering a smile.

Some stray voices carried through the halls, echoing off the stone and mostly indistinguishable by the time they found you. You followed Paz turning a corner where the voices grew louder as you stepped through the threshold of a doorway.

There was a long table that stretched across nearly every inch of the room, a few groups of people still lingering as they slowly filed out of the room. Din stood at the head of the table, speaking to an older Mandalorian who carried his helmet under his arm, his hair was greyed and worry-lines set deep into his features. Their conversation hushed as you and Paz neared, Din's helmet turning to follow the direction his counterpart had looked. He said your name softly, turning to face you better.

“As requested,” Paz joked as he stepped towards the other two men. “Took me far too long to find her, you should keep a better track of her, Djarin.”

You rolled your eyes at the laugh they shared, grinning as you watched the two of them shake hands and joke with one another.

“Cyar'ika,” Din turned to you and held his hand out to you. You took it and went to stand at his side, leaning towards him as your fingers intertwined. He gestured to the unnamed Mandalorian, repeating your name to him and introducing the two of you.

“This is Medrit, a member of our council and my mentor from when I was a youngling.”

You had seen Medrit around in the village before, mostly when you had sat at dinner with Mira; but you had yet to speak with him. His demeanor told that he was someone of importance, and the decorations that sat on his chest were a testament to that as well.

You smiled at him, nodding as he repeated your name and offered you his hand to shake.

“Din Djarin has told me much about you,” Medirt spoke, smiling fondly as he patted Din on the shoulder. “I'm sorry I missed your presentation and have failed to meet you before this.”

“Medrit and I have been busy.” Din sounded almost shy, something that sounded so foreign to you. Medrit seemed to agree, exchanging a look with Din that did not go unnoticed.

“But I hope to know you better, very soon.”

He reminded you so much of Din, in the way he spoke and carried himself. You wondered if we're seeing a glimpse of Din's future, the thought of his hair greying at his temples bringing a smile to your face.

“I would like that very much.”

Medrit and Paz said their goodbyes not too long after, following the last few people who remained out of the room. Din and you were left alone, save for the guards who were paired at the doors. Before you could think of asking, Din dismissed them; the two of them shuffling out of the room at his command and pulling the heavy wooden doors closed with a thud.

“You never told me you had a throne.” You teased him, pointing to the chair that was behind him. It was noticeably larger than the others at the table; made of the same wood, deep, rich in color with designs and phrases etched into the arch that served as the backrest. The chair wasn't much different than the rest, but you noticed it nonetheless, grinning at him as he shook his head.

“It's not a throne, Cyar'ika.” You could hear the grin on his voice, his helmet pressing gently against your forehead as he squeezed your hand.

“You look beautiful.”

The leather of his gloves was warm against your face, following along your jaw until he pushed them into your hair.

“Your hair?” He questioned, his fingers pulling away once he noticed resistance.

“The children,” You smiled at the memories, shrugging a little when Din chuckled. “They wanted to practice.”

Some days it felt like there wasn't much you could do to contribute to the Clan. As much as you hated following Mira around as if you were lost, especially since you were married to their Alor; she never minded the company or the help for that matter.

You sat with her for lunch just outside the gated areas that served as the gardens, sitting on empty crates and sharing some of the food you had spent the morning picking. It’s where you met Korri, a sweet girl about your age with kind eyes and a quick tongue that kept even Mira’s smart mouth at bay. You noticed how Mira’s eyes focused on her when she spoke and the way their hands brushed against each other anytime they stood near each other. You didn’t mean to tease Mira badly but, you couldn’t resist seeing the meek expression that crossed her face when you questioned her about it. The two of you were alone and gossiping like schoolgirls over bushels of food; sorting the good from the bad once most of it had been harvested. Korri had joined you, fitting right into your conversation once the awkward tension had dissipated.

As you ate together, you watched as children ran around, playing games of their imagination, their laughter carrying through the gardens. You had learned a few of their names, becoming familiar with them as the times you helped Mira grew in number. Sometimes during your breaks they would come and sit with you, asking questions with an innocence that only seemed understandable because of their age. Most of them understand what your marriage to Din meant, and a few of the older ones had even made a habit of calling you their Alor; a title you knew they used with no real bearing but was a little joke between you and them.

And of course, when one of them came up to you and begged you to let them practice on your hair, you had no resolve to tell them no.

They were careful, as careful as someone so young could be; twisting sections of your hair into different patterns until they found one they liked. Eventually pulling most of it back from your face and securing it with a tie. They insisted on picking some of the small clusters of wildflowers that grew along the fences of the garden and putting them in the ties of your hair. You sat and let them work for as long as they liked, thanking them and making over their handy work as they giggled at your praise.

The children were all very sweet, and some days you looked forward to them following you while you worked, enjoying their company no matter how tedious it could be.

“You look beautiful.” He repeated the sentiment from earlier, his voice just barely above a whisper.

You pressed yourself up against him, your hands resting on his chest while his arms fell to hold onto your hips. You tilted your head, batting your eyes as you looked up at him with a pout.

“Kiss me.”

He groaned a little, squeezing his arms tighter around you.

“Not in here, Cyar'ika.” he sighed, his breath hitching a little when you leaned to press a kiss on the spot where his chest and neck met. “I can't.”

You nuzzled your nose in his skin, dragging your lips up and down and leaving a trail of kisses in their wake. His fingers dug into your flesh, his hands flexing sharply as your nails running gently down his chest, stopping at the signet that cast his belt.

“Sit down, then.”

You pushed his shoulders, watching as he followed your direction and sat in his seat; his thighs spreading naturally as you kneeled in-between them.

When you finally put your mouth on him, he had nearly shot straight out of his chair from how hard his hips bucked. He was wound tight, his cock hard and throbbing under your touch from you teasing him; running your nails over his skin, and mouthing kisses onto his tummy, just barely ghosting over his groin.

He moaned your name, the sound practically melodic even through the metallic filter of his helmet, as you locked eyes with him. You guessed about where they'd be under there, imagining the vivid, dark color of his irises as you had seen them just this morning.

“You look so beautiful, Cyar'ika.” He groaned when he hit the back of your throat, choking out a curse as you slowly pull your mouth back up the length of his cock. “Taking my cock like this.”

You pulled off him with a wet pop, giving a few sweet kisses to the tip before wrapping your lips around him again.

“I don't deserve you, sweet girl.”

“We'll make it on foot, but it'll take a little while to get there.”

“You still haven't told me where we are going.” You released the strap of your bag to grab Din's hand your finger intertwining and your paces synchronizing as if from memory.

You had been walking on this trail for a while, it was one you had never been on before, but Din seemed to know where he was going. So you followed him, watching over your shoulder as the village slowly disappeared into the treeline behind you.

“That is the point of a surprise, Cyar'ika.”

A surprise.

Although it had been almost three months since you had married him, Din still surprised you. Sometimes in the form of his words, his actions, and sometimes with gifts; all things you told him weren’t necessary but he insisted on giving to you, his way of making sure you were taken care of. Of all the things Din could be, he was protective and caring in ways you had never realized could be so intimate with another person.

You knew he would kill for you, and you were sure he had threatened that before.

You had never brought it up, but you knew Din had threatened Kron the night of your presentation. You could count on one hand the number of times you had seen him since, a stark contrast to how he seemed to loom over you in the months prior. While you knew Kron deserved every word that Din had spoken to him, part of you couldn’t help but wonder about it. You were happy to put the experience behind you but part of you worried that it was about something that laid below the surface. You had never even known why Kron had even shown interest in speaking with you in the first place.

“That man, Kron,” you spoke before you had even decided if it was best to bring this up. “Why do you think he hates me?”

He didn’t say anything at first, taking a moment as if he needed to collect his thoughts, the gears turning under the shin of his helmet as he figured out what to say.

“I don't think he hates you, Cyar'ika.”

You scoffed, earning your hand a squeeze as he turned his head to look at you.

“Well, I would've believed otherwise.”

He stopped fully, your hands still connecting the two of you when you stopped just a second after he did, turning to face him. He sighed, breath coming from deep within his chest and causing his shoulders to raise with the force of it.

“He's angry with me,” he paused, still gathering his thoughts as if he needed to decipher what exactly to tell you. “and he never should have taken that out on you.”

“Why would he be angry with you?”

Maybe it was better to drop the subject, but you couldn’t help the curiosity you felt; an itching feeling that got worse with every word Din said.

“Because I beat him.”

The Mandalorians had a particular way of running things, traditions, and governments that sometimes dated back farther than anyone could remember. It didn’t surprise you that it wasn't a matter of electing someone to become their leader, they had to prove themselves just like they did as a child.

“Our leader before me was a wise man named Goran.” Din paused for a moment, leaning his head back until his visor pointed to the sky and then dipped to look at you. “When the time came, he had no children, successors to carry on his line.”

Shortly after the Verd’goten, The elders had announced that the future chief would be chosen from younglings hand-picked by the council. There were days, weeks dedicated to the trials that had been prepared for them; tests of their skill as a leader, a warrior, a Mandalorian. Something like that didn’t happen every day, and nearly all of the village watched as each of the candidates were tested; it became a game of sorts.

Both Din and Kron had been chosen by the members of the council, both of them had succeeded at nearly every challenge and in the final weeks, they were the only two competitors left.

“He was a few years older than me,” He started walking again, pulling you along with him as you listened to him retell it. “Much bigger and more experienced than I was. I think everyone thought he would be chosen.”

The story Mira told you when you first asked about Din was true. As a final test of their strength, both were sent on a hunt; they needed to kill the Mudhorn that had been terrorizing part of the village. Taking down such a creature would be the ultimate approval of a warrior’s capability and skill, and their willingness to protect those who are innocent.

Din had won.

The night he had made his way back to the village, carrying the horn of the beast over his back as evidence of his victory, he was welcomed with open arms. The celebration has lasted for a week and at the end of it, he was crowned the new chief.

“You are the only living thing that has seen my face, since.”

The tenants of his creed had been solidified then, with status came the change and responsibility greater than most had.

“How old were you?”

He hesitated, almost as if he was ashamed to admit it.

“Fifteen.”

“You were just a child.”

“Maybe, so.” He looked at you, his free hand coming up to squeeze the fingers still tightly wrapped around his bicep.

“It must have been hard on you, having enormous responsibility so young.”

You could never imagine the burden Din had to carry and to have it from such a young age; sometimes you had no idea how Din had survived for so long on his own.

“This is the way.”

You placed a kiss on the pauldron of his shoulder, right over the Mudhorn signet that had been molded into the beskar, laying your head against the cold metal as you walked in silence again.

There may never come a time when you fully understand Din's creed, and even if you sometimes thought his life would be easier without it, you never wanted to disrespect his beliefs. You would be there for him, even when you disagreed with his reasoning. Making sure he didn't carry such a weight single-handedly anymore was the only thing you concerned yourself with; Din knowing he didn't have to do this alone anymore was all that mattered.

“One day my time will end, and there will be someone to take the helm just as I did from him.”

You had talked about things like this with Din before, most of the conversation happening in the late hours of the night as you tried to find sleep; you talked about a future, the life you wanted to lead with him, and what would become of that. And want the end would look like.

“I don't want to think about that.” You dismissed him, looping your arm around his tighter and pushing any sort of similar thought from your mind.

“All things must come to pass, Cyar'ika.” His tone was gentle, the words almost lost from how quietly he spoke them. “One of our children will be the next to lead us, and I will die at peace knowing they are prepared to take my place.”

“Our children will be lucky to have a father like you to teach them,” you smiled, shaking your head as you looked at him. “I don't think there's much I could do.”

Din slowed his steps, pulling his arm from your grip and he stood in front of you again. Something in him changed, his demeanor much sharper, determined than what it had been before.

“You have overcome so much in your life, Cyar'ika.” He was quiet again, his words carrying an emotion you could feel as he stepped closer to you, the space separating the two of you falling away to practically nothing.

“Just because you have never wielded a weapon in battle does not make your life less honorable.”

He guided your gaze back on him when it fell, his knuckles gently running along your jaw and tapping against your chin as a request for you to look at him.

“Never degrade yourself from anything less than deserving.”

Din had a way of saying just the right thing, it was as if he had time to carefully plan every single word before it fell from his lips. You smiled up at him as he held your face in his hands, the leather of his gloves contrasting the warmth that you felt in your cheeks.

“If our children are half as kind as you are, Cyar'ika….then I know we will have done something right for them.”

“Don't look.”

“I'm not.”

You couldn't help but giggle at how silly this felt; the kind of feeling that was light, and innocent and left butterflies that swirled inside your stomach when Din laughed at you.

“See,” you squeezed your hands dramatically over your face, trying to prove you had no intention of breaking your promise. “I can't see a thing.”

Even with a half-hearted attempt at reassurance, Din wasn't convinced you'd keep true to your word.

“Yeah?”

You felt the soft fabric of a blindfold cover your face, you slipped your hands out from under it as Din tied it in a knot at the back of your head.

“I think I know you better than that, Cyar'ika.”

His arms wrapped around your waist and hauled you off the rock you had taken a break on.

“A girl can try can't she?” He spun you around until you faced in the other direction, setting you down as you gripped his biceps to keep your balance.

“Maybe,” he turned around, and you heard the sound of him moving around a little bit, then his unfiltered voice hit your ear. “But then you'll ruin the surprise.”

He took the bag from your shoulders and you reached out for him blindly, your belongings hitting the forest floor with a dull thud. He held on to your wrists and gave you a quick kiss on the lips before he lifted you into his arms. One of his hands settled underneath your knees, while the other wrapped around your waist.

You couldn't tell why Din had brought you out here, you couldn't see much as the path disappeared under your feet, the worn cut that had been made on the forest floor blending back into its surroundings. Din had insisted you close your eyes as soon as you reached the end, and he guided you to sit and wait until he was ready. The trail had led to the start of a hill from what you could tell, the sun shining brightly on the other side and casting both of you in a shadow as you stood at its base. Din grunted as he started up the hill, and you dug your fingers tighter into his furs as you shifted in his arms.

He carried you to the top; even with you commenting on how capable you were at walking he just ignored you.

“This is about you, Cyar'ika.”

“About me?” You could feel the sunlight pass over your features from behind your blindfold, warm and kissing your skin as you grinned up at him.

He sat you down once he passed the top, helping you balance yourself against him with his hands still roaming your sides. He turned you around with a kiss to your lips, your back pressing against his chest.

“Are you ready?”

He pressed his lips into your shoulder, trailing sweet kisses up your neck until he reached your ear; his voice rumbling deep in his chest as he whispered the words into your skin.

“I hope.”

There was a nervousness that settled in your stomach, an excitement that flooded your veins but left you woozy as you leaned against him. You felt his hands reach for the blindfold, loosening the knot and letting the soft material fall away from your eyes.

It took a moment for you to adjust to the light, the sun was bright and hovering over the horizon, bathing everything in a beautiful golden glow and you shuddered out a breath when everything came into view.

It went on forever, large stretches of meadow littered with pinks and reds that swirled in gentle patterns; flowers of every kind dancing around your feet and tickling the skirt of your dress. You could see the colors vividly under the brightness of the setting sun; blooms that were full and in every shape imaginable stood at your fingertips.

“Do you like it?”

You felt him smiling against your skin, peppering small kisses along your jaw and cheek.

“It's wonderful.”

You turned in his arms, your faces just a hairbreadth away from one another as a question burned on the tip of your tongue.

“Din, how did you-”

“It's yours.” Din cut you off, his hand cupping your jaw while his thumb gently ran across the apple of your cheek.

“Mine?”

He held onto you tighter, and you felt like you were gonna burst; your chest swelling with the immeasurable feeling you got every time he looked at you.

“I’m giving it to you.”

You could see the warmth hidden behind a heavy-set brow, his irises a deep, rich color that sparkled with golden flecks of sun and left you breathless. His kiss was soft and left your mouth burning in the wake of his touch, your hands threading through his hair and pulling him deeper as your lips slotted together.

“Every year, that is the trail we use when we go on our hunts,” Din explained pulling away just enough for the words to slip past his lip, his palms still caressing the side of your face.

“And every year we pass by this meadow without so much as a second glance.”

Your hands wandered to hold Din’s arms, your fingers trailing along the length of his forearm until they came to rest at his wrists. He smiled as you squeezed them in your palms, your forefinger tracing tiny patterns on the underside of his arm.

“But this time, Cyar'ika, all I could think about was you.”

You felt tears brimming at his words, and when they finally rolled down your cheeks he brushed them away; catching them with his thumb as they fell from your eyes.

“So I'm giving it to you.”

He kissed you again, his mouth heavy against yours and his touch like molten that left a gentle burn underneath your skin. His taste was practically burned on your tongue by the time you pulled away from him, your threaded fingers the only thing that stayed connected as you led him deeper into the meadow. He was impatient, stopping you much sooner than you had planned, your chest colliding as he pulled you back to his arms. Warm, wet kisses trailed over your neck, his teeth sinking into the sensitive spot on your shoulder, making you groan in his ear. You gasped as your hands ran over his back, your nails scratching lightly and traveling to pull the curls at the base of his neck.

You don't remember how you got to the ground, it doesn't even register that you're moving until you feel the solid earth beneath you, pinned by Din's weight. His hands felt like they were everywhere at once, warm, and calloused against your skin once he removed his gloves. They pulled at pieces of your clothes, your own hands going to pull the latches that held Din's cape.

“You want to give me warriors, Cyar'ika?” He growled into your ears, your bodies rutting against each other as you desperately tried to strip yourself of enough layers to have each other. “Be my sweet Riddur and bare my children?”

Din chuckled at the completely sinful sound that left your lips, half-concocted strings of pleas spewing from your mouth; begging for him to touch you, to kiss you, to fill you to the brim with everything that was him.

“Let me breed you, sweet girl, as a proper husband should.”

He wasn't gentle when his hips finally rocked into yours, but it felt so blissful; like your body was tingling with excitement and about to burst with each cant of his hips.

Your knees dug into the dirt beneath you, the material of Din's cape doing nothing to cushion you from the weight of his thrusts; the sound of your love-making the only thing that could be heard over the moans you shared.

He clung to you as if his life depended on it, kissing every inch of you he could reach and gripping you hard enough to leave imprints of his hands on your skin.

He swallowed the screams that laid on the edge of your tongue in a kiss, his fingers circling your clit as you ride your high over and over again. You were so sensitive when he had finally finished, your nerves heightened and your cunt glistening with the mixture of your releases.

You shared ‘I love you’s between slow kisses, your lips swollen and sensitive as he nipped them between his teeth. You held him close, burying your nose in his hair as you lay beneath a painted sky, every color imaginable dancing above you as the world continued slowly from day into night.

There was hardly a shred of sunlight left in the sky as you made your way back to the village. Din all but led you, the darkness making the forest a little more difficult to move through; your fingers gripped any piece of his clothing you could reach, clinging to his side as if you were afraid he'd leave you behind.

He chuckled a little bit as one of your hands gripped his cape, the other landing on his bicep and walking directly behind him, your head resting on his shoulder blade. You let go of him as he tapped your hand, stopping in his tracks to brace himself and telling you to climb into his back. You hesitated for a moment, you have no idea how much longer it would be to get home; there was no way Din could be comfortable carrying you for that long.

“Come on, Cyar'ika.” He turned his helmet to look at you, what little moon that was out tonight glinting off the visor.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, jumping when he told you to and moving with him as his arms helped you settle on his back. He walked a little slower but he still seemed to navigate the trail better than you. You could feel the breaths he took from under his helmet, his chin peeking out from under his helmet from your angle. You laid your head against his shoulder and hummed as you squeezed his neck tighter, your finger sticking out to tickle him along his jawline. He flinched slightly, huffing out a laugh as he groaned out a meaningless warning. You settled your cheek against his pauldron, looking out as slopes of land started to form under the faint shine of the moon. The night was still around you, the only noise that registered being the thump of Din's boots on the ground and the faint sound of a broken breeze that wafted through the woods. You could see lights from the villager's home through the thinning treeline, the mountains that served as the backdrop of your home glowing with blue hue under the moonlight.

“We're almost there.” You commented, pointing a finger in the direction of the village.

Din slowed for a second and lifted his head to follow your hand, commenting on your ‘good eye.’ You huffed and held on tighter to his neck, trying to hold some of your body weight up to make it easier for him.

It didn't take much longer to reach the edge of the forest, the homes of the village much closer and more lively than they had looked from a distance.

There was something uneasy that washed over as you slipped from Din's grip, your feet landing flat on the ground that felt alive underneath you. The earth was rumbling, hardly noticeable but it tickled you through the soles of your boots as you stood still. You look over to find Din looking towards the village, his hand reaching out for you and pulling you to stand behind him. He held onto your hand with a bruising grip as if he were afraid you would slip through his fingertips.

It hit before you could ask him what was wrong, a blinding light that knocked you to your feet and left you scrambling against the dirt beneath you. There was a pounding inside of your head, a deafening sound that was shrill and left ringing in your ears. Your head was spinning as you tried to sit up, fighting against a heavy weight that kept you pinned to the ground. There were sounds of voices, muffled yelling that barely registered as you blinked up at the sky.

The canopy of the trees was glowing in shades of violent reds that swirled around bellows of smoke. Your body felt heavy, every breath that passed through your lungs burned as you pushed against the pressure that held you down. You tried to move again, your arms limp and scratching against the dirt as shadows passed over your face. Some limbs seemed to move with yours slowly, with heavy hands bumping yours in their search for purchase. And then the weight was lifted, your vision blurring at the sight of Din's silver helmet. His hands held your face, words falling from his lips that were suffocated by the chaos that roared around you. Your eyes felt heavy, every time you blinked it was like heaven to have them close for just a second longer.

You looked at him, watching the colors dance across the profile of his helmet with words stuck on your tongue; sentences lost in the confusion that had settled over your mind. He was still talking to you, his arms sliding under your body to haul you off the ground; the remnants of a promise hitting your ear as your eyes finally closed.

“.... you're gonna be okay.”

Translations:

Vod’ika- Little sister

Alor- Leader, chief

Verd’goten- Mandalorian rite of passage

Riddur- Spouse, Husband/Wife

A/N (pt2): Y’all remember when the reader talked about how much she liked flowers because its something she remembers from her childhood??? Well Din did.

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The Offer

@queenofheavenandhell @youmeanmybrain @theocatkov @dreamgirl-67 @duker42 @spxcedxdddy @vikingqueen28 @hdlynn @leo-moon @tiffdawg @newyorksins @roxypeanut @grapemama @skinny-macncheese @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @archqtype @promiscuoussatan @starflyer-104 @jedi-dreea @jake-chillinhaal @imaginecrushes @roguereds @coonflix @mandoispunk @din-damn-djarin @eternallyvenus @starlite41 @emesispo @californiakoenig @mindless--ramblings @lovinglokiforever @gabile18 @chibi-liz05 @justanotherblonde23 @luminarahan @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #star wars fanfiction #clan leader au #clan leader mando #the offer #dyn jarren #mando x you #mando x reader #my writing #smut

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smegdwarf · 3 years

Text

But Who Could Love Me? - Red Dwarf Fic (Rimmer X Reader)|Chapter 1 (1/2)

A/N: Did you really think I hold back? :P

Warnings: None, just fluff

Summary: Pretty much giving Rimmer the love he deserves 😌

Chapter 1

Your POV

Why was this happening? What was going on and how in the entire universe did you end up here? Scrambling to your feet and fumbling along the corridors, almost as if you had drunk several crates of beer on an empty stomach, you tried to figure out where you was and whether or not you was alone. After all there was only so much time before this was bound to happen again.

“Alright?” A voice boomed as a picture appeared on a screen near you.

“Christ!” You jumped back, almost falling to your feet again.

“Sorry didn’t mean to scare ya” The voice apologized “I’m Holly!”

“Where am I?” You stuttered, feeling the flickering approaching.

“JMC Mining ship Red Dwarf” Holly confirmed your suspicions.

“Is there anyone on this ship?” You asked, the flickering become more constant and harder to fight against.

“They’re in...” Before Holly could finish everything went black.

What felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds in reality you reappeared from your light bee with an almighty thud as you hit the metal wall of the ship.

“Did you guys hear that?” One voice exclaimed

“Probably another part of the ship falling apart ignore it” Another completely fed up voice grumbled as the door you had landed near opened.

“Sirs you might want to come and take a look” That was definitely a mechanoid.

“What is it Krytes?” A scouse voice asked.

“Ma’am are you ok?” The mechanoid asked as I finally opened my eyes.

“Oh great another human and it’s a female” The grumpy voice from earlier groaned.

“Alright Rimmer, keep your ‘h’ on” The scouser replied.

“Shut up Lister!” Rimmer growled.

“Mr Rimmer sir...” The mechanoid stuttered.

“What is it Kryten?” Rimmer rolled his eyes.

“I’m not human” You mumbled as you rubbed your eyes, the flickering feeling returning a little “Do you a medical bay on board?”

“Of course ma’am” Kryten looked over you concerned as you tried to stand up.

“I need to get there ASAP” You grumbled as you rubbed your eyes once more knocking your hair from your face and revealing what you truly were.

“You’re a hologram?” Rimmer stood stunned as you began to flicker in and out again.

“I need to go now!” You exclaimed as Lister and the remaining unnamed crew mate helped you to the medi-bay.

Hooked up to the red dwarf holo system, Kryten set up a scan to find out what was causing you to flicker out.

“You’re a hologram?” Rimmer repeated himself.

“Am I? I wondered why there was a big ‘h’ on my head?” You teased but it went straight over him.

“It appears your light bee has a crack ma’am, which is causing you to flicker in and out and glitch” Kryten eyed over the scan results as he explained the issue.

“Is it fixable?” You asked.

“Sure is ma’am” Kryten gave you a reassuring smile.

“And please call me Y/N” You smiled back.

“Hang on can’t the ship only maintain one hologram?” The unnamed crew mate pointed out.

“Shut it Cat!” Lister shushed him.

“A couple updates and a few adjustments and the ships system should maintain several holograms” You smiled “How long will it take to fix the crack?”

It was then that you noticed Rimmer had left the medi-bay, clearly not pleased about sharing the ship with another hologram. It didn’t take Kryten long to fix the crack and before long you were helping him update the hologram program to maintain both you and Rimmer.

“Well if you would excuse me ma’am I’ve got a load of Mr Listers laundry to catch up on” Kryten nodded in your direction “You’ll find the crew down the corridor on the left”

“Thanks Kryten” You smiled as you parted ways with Kryten to find the others “Hi, hope I’m not disturbing anything?”

Upon seeing you, Rimmer jumped up from his seat and took himself and the book he was reading to his bunk without a word.

“Of course not, sit down and help yourself to a beer” Lister grinned “Did Kryten fix you up?”

“He did and the hologram program has been updated to maintain both me and Rimmer” You replied earning a not so subtle scoff from the hologram throwing a strop.

“Ignore the smeghead over there” Lister rolled his eyes towards Rimmer.

Rimmer was a mystery, he avoided you at all costs for the 3 weeks you had been stuck on Red Dwarf. Even though in those 3 weeks you had become good friends with the rest of the crew. It was all about to turn upside down as Kryten had bad news to deliver.

“Are you coming?” You spoke towards Rimmer but you dared to look at him.

“Y/N, Rimmer we need to get to starbug NOW!” Lister burst in, Krytens bad news had to wait.

While Lister run ahead it left you and Rimmer walking to spacebug alone in complete silence. Lister had filled you in on Rimmer, on why he is the way he is and why he seemed to hate you with every inch of his hologramatic being. He didn’t trust anyone and perceived everyone as a threat due to his crappy upbringing and constantly being shot down. It was clear the man had issues but it would be wrong of you to treat him differently because of them and it didn’t help that the rest of his crew liked to play on his insecurities. If anything you just wanted to be acquaintances if friends wasn’t possible.

After all piling into Starbugs cockpit Kryten filled everyone in, an abandoned ship was slowly flying by Red Dwarf and it was up to this crew to check it over for remaining crew or supplies that could be useful on ship.

“Rimmer are you still sulking?” Lister decided to spark a conversation, apparently at the expense of Rimmer.

“I’m not sulking, I just don’t see why we need to check this ship, we’ve already got an extra crew mate on board ...we don’t need anymore” Rimmer kept his eyes on the console in front of him as he spoke however you couldn’t take your mind of the fact he referred to you as a crew mate. Maybe he’s finally warming up to you.

“Maybe we’ll bump into Ace?” The Cat decided to join in, Lister has briefly mentioned Rimmer’s alter ego Ace and from what you could gather everyone but Rimmer liked him.

“Ah I love that man” Lister joined in as Rimmer let out a groan “The only version of Rimmer that can be considered a man”

“Alright guys give it a rest, how would you like it we were teasing you?” You shut them down, noticing Rimmer turning from his screen to look at you for a split second from the corner of your eye.

“Did you just stand up for Rimmer?” Lister turned to face you as did Kryten and The Cat.

“Is that so wrong?” You raised your eyebrow.

“Yes!” Lister, Kryten and the Cat said in unison.

“Well you’re all a bunch of smeg heads” You grumbled.

“Ooh Y/N cares about Rimmer” Lister teased as Rimmer let out a tut.

“Have we reached the ship yet?” Rimmer growled as the ship came to a sudden stop with a jolt.

“Erm ...maybe” The Cat smiled awkwardly, clearly too interested in the drama in the cockpit than the spaceship we were hurtling towards.

“Here’s the plan, Y/N, Lister and the Cat look for any remaining crew members, Kryten and I will look for supplies” Rimmer ordered, he may not officially be an officer but 3 million years into deep space with the last human, a robot and a half cat wasn’t going to stop him pretending to be and it wasn’t until he looked up from getting ready that he noticed Lister, Kryten and Cat already down the corridor of the abandoned ship.

“Have fun you two!” Lister shouted down the corridor.

“Smeg!” Rimmer grumbled “Come on”

Of course Rimmer wasn’t pleased to be left alone with you and as much as you wanted to get to know Rimmer better you knew it was not going to be easy.

“Just to set the record straight I had nothing to do with this” You put it out there as Rimmer kept his focus on searching for supplies.

“Uh huh” Was the only response he was willing to give.

“Fine” You muttered under your breath as you too looked for supplies to take back.

“Nothing in here, onto the next room” You let Rimmer boss you about, after all standing your ground against him would just end in a fight.

“Yes sir!” You replied sarcastically, earning a frown before he walked off.

After a few more rooms it was clear there wasn’t much to salvage besides a few crates of lager, medical supplies and a bunch of stationary that only Rimmer would’ve spotted.

You and Rimmer sat in Starbug in silence as you waited for the others to return, Rimmer completely blocking out his surroundings as he went through his new haul of pens and notebooks. You knew Rimmer wasn’t like the others, as much as he hated to admit it he was shy and very awkward, his interests were on the opposite end of the scale to Lister and the Cat and he had clearly built up some very high walls in need to protect himself. Watching the way his face lit up over his new stationary made you smile, a smile you were completely unaware of until Rimmer looked up.

“Shouldn’t the others be back soon?” You immediately tried to change the subject as Rimmer tried to put his focus back on his notebooks but unbeknown why, he was struggling.

“Listy? Can you hear me?” Rimmer poked a button next to his monitor.

“Having fun Arnie?” Lister teased once more through the reciever.

“Have you found anyone?” You jumped in, you wasn’t in the mood to hear him taunt Rimmer more.

“Nah we’re heading back to Starbug now! What about supplies?” Lister replied.

“Found a few crates of lager and some medical supplies but that’s about it” You explained, leaving out Rimmer’s stationary supplies to save him from the teasing.

“Nice, we’re a few minutes away, see you guys soon” And with that the cockpit went silent.

Even though Rimmer acted as though he was ignoring everything it was obvious he had picked up on you leaving out his haul to spare him as his foot suddenly started tapping the floor beneath it not sure how to deal with the emotions he was currently feeling.

Rimmer was proving to be a tough nut to crack, either only talking to the boys, remaining silent or even leaving the room in some cases. He did talk to you but only when it was absolutely necessary and it became an extremely regular thing for the rest of the crew to run off and leave you alone together.

Another day ...or night ...it was a guessing game half the time and even if it did turn out to be midnight it didn’t stop You and Lister chowing down on a hefty bowl of cereal.

“Thanks Krytes” You smiled as Kryten placed a bowl of your favourite cereal and juice on the table in front of you as you remained focused on the book you was reading.

“You’re welcome ma’am!” Kryten smiled before scuttling off, after all there was always bound to be a basket of Listers socks and underwear in desperate need of cleaning.

“Hmm that’s good” You happily munched away on your breakfast, noticing Lister hanging over the side of his bunk from the corner of your eye “Don’t even think about touching that guitar”

“Yes please don’t” Rimmer walked in, eyes down on the papers in his hand.

“Alright jesus” Lister whined as he threw himself back in his bunk.

“Good morning Arnold” You called him by his first name in an attempt to get a reaction from him.

“Morning” Rimmer mumbled looking up from his notebook for a short second before looking back down, he definitely noticed.

“What are you up to?” You asked trying to spark up a conversation with the hologram sat opposite you.

“Probably studying to fail his Astro-navs again” Lister teased.

“Oi!” You shot Lister a look.

“Do you ever stop talking?” Rimmer snapped at Lister.

“Ooh someone woke up on the wrong side of the ship this morning?” Lister set off on his mission to piss off Rimmer.

“Shut up” Rimmer growled.

“Just ignore him” You spoke only loud enough for Rimmer to hear as he looked up and spotted the book you were reading.

“You’re reading the space corps directives?” Rimmer raised an eyebrow at the book.

“Yeah why not?” You smiled as you flicked the page, Rimmer’s eyes shot back down to the paperwork in front of him.

“I wouldn’t bother, we ignore practically all of them” Lister chimed in.

“Correction Listy ...you ignore all of them” Rimmer looked over at Lister sprawled out in his bunk.

“They are rules and rules are for goodie goodies” Lister huffed.

“Rules exist for a reason” Rimmer replied sternly.

“Rules are made to be broken Rimmer” Lister grinned “Not that you’d have the balls to do that”

“Alright that’s enough Lister” You shot Lister a look that shut him up instantly “Every conversation doesn’t have to end in you belittling Arnold”

And it was with that last sentence that Rimmer had up and left. This is how most days panned out, you’d finally get a conversation going then Lister or The Cat would butt in and insult or berate Rimmer. Being 3 million years into deep space you could understand that there wasn’t much to do and boredom would ensue but it wasn’t an excuse to treat Rimmer the way they did, especially knowing what they know about him.

“So are you staying on Red Dwarf then?” Lister asked, eyes fixated on the screen in front of him as he played his video game.

“I don’t know” You sighed, trying desperately to focus on the book you were reading and not on the nonsense in your head.

After a month or so of space exploration with the boys from the Dwarf you had obtained a substantial book collection ...a collection you knew was sparking the interest of Rimmer although he’d rather die again than admit it.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Lister paused his game to look at you.

“I love Red Dwarf I really do but I know someone doesn’t like me being here” You mumbled.

“Ahh don’t worry about that smeghead” Lister grinned.

“That’s quite hard when you lot keep leaving me alone with him” You grumbled, there was sounds of movement outside the doorway of the crews living quarters to which you assumed was Kryten “I’ve tried my best Dave and he still ignores me”

“You know what he’s like, he’s Rimmer” Lister tried to comfort you but it wasn’t helping, Rimmer being Rimmer was the problem, his personality was so much different to the others which made him all that more interesting but trying to get through those walls was like breaking them down with a plastic spoon, long and tiring.

“How do I get through to him Lister?” You grumbled once more “I’m not a bad person”

“Talk to him” Lister turned back to his game.

“You know he just ignores me” You sighed, maybe there something more than even you were aware of going on “I just want him to feel comfortable around me, I try and start up conversation, I’m nothing but nice to him and I stand up for him when you lot are being smegheads”

“Awh come on winding Rimmer up is fun” Lister smiled.

“Maybe you should take his feelings into consideration every once in a while” You scolded Dave as you left the crew quarters, seeing a faint blur of blue dash down the corridor. It wasn’t Kryten walking past earlier after all, it was in fact Rimmer, the one who you had just been talking about to Lister and he had clearly heard everything as he scarpered away to avoid being seen.

You spent hours traipsing the floors of the dwarf trying to find Rimmer but if there was one thing he was definitely good at it was a hiding.

“Rimmer please come out from where you’re hiding? I just want to talk” You called out with no response until a few moments later there was a loud bang and an ‘oh smeg!” coming from Starbug “Arnold I know you’re in there?”

After a few seconds of silence and no answer you opened the door to let yourself in.

“Can we talk?” You asked as Rimmer sat with his elbows resting on the console and his hands resting at the back of his neck.

“I heard everything by the way” Rimmer mumbled.

#arnold rimmer #red dwarf #arnold j rimmer #arnold judas rimmer #rimmer #my emotional support bastard #dave lister #kryten #the cat #starbug #holly #Arnold rimmer x reader #Rimmer x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #hologram #fluff fic #yikes didn’t realize how long this was 😅#the first two parts aren’t great but stick with it pls

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luffles424 · 4 years

Text

Dark Side (01)

☼ Pairing: Namjoon x reader x Jungkook

☼ Genre: Star Wars au, Sith!Namjoon, Sith!Jungkook, Sith!reader, fluff, (future) smut, bit of angst, e2l, magical artifacts

☼ Count: 16.8K

☼ Warnings: violence (there’s some fight scenes), minor unnamed character death, mentions of enslavement

☼ Summary: You end up in the wrong temple at the wrong time and you’re certain that it spells nothing but your death. Except, it doesn’t. Has everything you’ve learned about the Sith been wrong? Or is it perhaps just these Sith that are different?

(This takes place long before the movies, it’s based around the SWTOR game, so it takes place roughly 3500 years before the events of the movies.)

☼ a/n: This is just... so wildly different from what it was originally suppose to be (originally was just a pwp with just Joon) and now there’s so much plot I’ve had to split it into two parts because now its a monster. It was also suppose to be posted on Star Wars day and I’ve clearly very badly failed on that part. This is primarily inspired by Joon’s 2018 MGA outfit and then Kook’s look when he wears a giant hood and looks like a sith. (I’ve also got some pictures of all three looks if y’all are interested in me posting that (they’re just from a dress up game but I have zero drawing skill)) Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

Part 2

You press yourself back against the pillar, the coolness of the stone seeping through your ragged clothes, a stark contrast to your heated skin. It’s too hot on this planet, even down in this tomb it’s too hot. You listen, hearing the scuff of footsteps against the sandy stones before they stop. They’re close. So close to you, it feels like your heart is in your throat as you wait and hope for them to leave.

Your gaze darts around and you spy your pack, too far away for you to reach without moving. And no matter how hard you try, you know what a futile attempt it would be to try to move with all the sand, even the slightest adjustment of stance would be audible. Because if you could hear this other person, they’d most assuredly hear you too.

It remains quiet for a few more moments before they let out an irritated sigh. “I know you’re there. You might as well just come out.” You remain frozen, you know they didn’t see you, their shadow gave them away before you would’ve been visible to them. There’s an annoyed growl. “You can either come out on your own or I can force you out.”

They put a weird emphasis on the word force, it makes something in you prickle at the overall command, something that sits just under your skin. You glance to your pack again. If you can edge your way out in front of them just right, you can get closer to your pack and subsequently, to your balster. It’s a shitty little thing. It’s probably not good for anymore than just one shot. But if you’re lucky, you’re only going to need the one shot.

You step out, shuffling a few steps towards your pack, as close as you think you can manage without the other growing suspicious. You know how you look, how you always look, a little dirty from scavenging, clothes torn and repaired, not necessarily with the steadiest of hands. Eyes hard from years of distrust. You let your shoulders slump, you know you can try to play up the runaway slave easily. You’ve done it before, it’s not entirely difficult given that you actually are one, but you’re far from that scared, timid girl anymore.

You keep your head down, but let your gaze wander over the man before you. His dark hair is longer than you’d expect of someone on this planet and its fluffiness is at odds with the glower on his face as his eyes rake over you too. He’s too clean and put together to be from around here, you know that much immediately. His clothes are dark, from the black cloak around his shoulders to the layers of black cloth and leather that cover him. The only thing that stands out is the red leather straps that accent his boots and the deep red fabric cinched around his waist, which draws your attention to the silver and black glint of metal hanging from his belt, signifying what he was. Sith.

Your stomach drops as your blood runs cold. Your chances to get out of here just got even lower, practically nonexistent. You were nothing to him and a sith would have no problem with getting rid of you should you be in his way, which given that you’re scavenging in a tomb, you probably are. You glance quickly to your bag, even if you die, if you were quick enough maybe you could still get your shot off. You certainly weren’t going to make this easy for him.

He follows your gaze and snorts. “Don’t even think about it.”

You’re going to die anyway. There’s no way you’re getting out of this, you have nothing to lose.

But you don’t even get a step before he’s thrown a hand out and you feel your oxygen cut off. Your hands scramble uselessly at your neck, but there’s nothing there for you to try to pry away to give you your breath back. He tuts at you, walking closer until he replaces the force choking you for his own hand. He tightens his grip and you claw at his hand, struggling to get away. You barely register his words as you try to get him off of you.

“Now then, little runaway, before I drag you back to whatever sorry hole you thought you could get away from, you have something of mine and I’d like it back now.”

He lifts you, until your toes are just barely brushing the ground. You don’t know what you could possibly have of his that he’d want, this isn’t even a sith tomb. Your mind races, you’re short on options at this point, held with your oxygen cut off like this. If you could just get to your bag. Your hands wrap around his forearm for lack of anything else to do. Then a small glimmer of a plan forms. It’s certainly not the best and if it even works then you’ll end up on your ass too. But it will hopefully serve as enough of a distraction for you to be able to grab your pack.

You tighten your grip as best as you can and look him in the eyes. He looks annoyed and you’re fairly certain that he’s said something else, but there’s a ringing in your ears now and your vision is starting to go black. You muster every ounce of strength you can and lift your legs, planting them firmly on his chest and push, relishing his brief look of surprise as your feet lift.

You expect him to maybe stumble, caught off guard enough that he releases your throat at the very least. What you don’t expect though, is for him to fly back 20 feet to slam into a pillar on the opposite side of the room. You hear his wheeze as his breath is knocked from him as he slides down to the base of the pillar to crumple in a dazed heap.

You hit the ground with a gasp, the air burning your throat and lungs as it floods your system. You take only a single deep breath before you’re scrambling closer to your pack and yanking your blaster free from the confines. You turn and point it at him just as he gets to his knees, hand outstretched to do… something. Something that you really don’t want to find out.

But there’s a shout of ‘enough’ that comes from neither of you that halts both of you. The power in the command makes you falter just slightly, end of your blaster wavering from where it’d been pointed at the other man. The other man looks equal parts pissed and nervous. You glance towards the entrance and watch the one who spoke enter. He’s dressed in a similar manner to the other. His hair though is shorter, blond, and more meticulously styled than the other’s. Fuck, just your luck, two sith. He waves a hand passively to the man you had been fighting.

“That’s enough, Jungkook.” His voice is soft spoken, but there’s an undeniable undercurrent of ‘or else’ that follows it that has you wanting to follow his order even though it wasn’t directed at you.

The man, Jungkook you presume, drops his hand and his murderous gaze turns to you. “She’s in the way, master,” he spits out.

Another hand wave and Jungkook slumps down, clearly upset that he’s not being listened to. The man approaches you, head tilted in curiosity. He flicks his hand and your blaster flies from your hand to smash against a pillar. You’re so dead now, you clutch your pack closer to you like a shield.

He reaches out a hand, unphased by the way you push yourself back. “You have the holocron I’ve been looking for. Will you hand it over?”

Your brows furrow, glancing from your pack back to this man. He must be crazy if he really thinks you’ll just hand something over that you could sell and get yourself off this blasted planet.

His face is disarmingly serene when he drops his hand after you refuse to respond. You don’t know whether you should be relieved or on edge. He studies you and seems to come to a decision. He turns and walks away, leaving you even more perplexed.

“Jungkook, bring her with.”

Twin shouts of ‘what’ ring out. Yours in confusion and Jungkook’s in anger and indignation.

“You can’t be serious!” he continues.

The man turns to him and you can see the fire in his eyes despite the fact that his face remains passive. “Do you think you know better than me, Jungkook?”

Jungkook shrinks under the look, murmuring a soft, “No, master.”

“Then take her to the ship. She may hold on to her bag if it makes her feel better.” He gives him a warning look. “It shall be handled carefully, we cannot afford for that holocron to be broken. It will set my work back years.”

The man leaves, ascending to the exit and leaving a heavy silence in his wake. You wonder if you could run. A scoff finally breaks that silence and you jerk your head to stare at Jungkook. He mutters something further in a language that’s unfamiliar to you and approaches, running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know why Namjoon won’t just let me kill you or send you back to your little shithole.”

You glare at him, putting the strap of your bag over your head to let it hang, hand still clutching the strap tightly. His master may be willing to bring you with, but Jungkook clearly doesn’t share that sentiment and you wouldn’t put it past him to lie and say you tried to run. You straighten your back and make every attempt to look imposing.

“Listen here, you rockhead, you don’t scare me.”

His eyes widen in surprise, but you don’t give him a chance to respond, instead turning on your heel and following his master out of the tomb. You might as well milk his kindness while he’s got it. Before he changes his mind and you maybe end up dead in a sandpit somewhere.

You don’t really know how long the trip lasts. Once you exited the tomb, Jungkook seemed to have snapped out of his stunned surprise, quickly following so he could seize your arm roughly and drag you in the direction of a nearby ship. Not like you couldn’t have puzzled out that it was theirs, given that there was nothing around for miles. It’s nice, nicer than anything you’ve seen in a long while in this place. You’re surprised that it stands untouched given the sheer amount of scavengers on this planet.

Once drug on board, you’d been shoved into what you assume Jungkook is deeming your temporary prison. It’s too big to be such, and given the ship, you doubt that they actually had any sort of dedicated jail space on board. It’s a small room that looks more like it’s usual purpose is for storage. Containers are stacked neatly along the walls and there’s a cot in the corner as well. That’s where you take a seat for the duration of the ride.

When Jungkook had pushed you in, he’d looked you over in disgust, muttering out a warning about not trying anything and then the door was sliding shut and you heard the lock engaging. What did he expect you to try in a glorified closet? As far as you can tell, the things that are stored here would do little to help you. Although you do have to resist the urge to swipe some of the nicer looking spare circuitry, knowing how much you could sell it for.

So instead you sat and thought. Tried to figure out what this sith could possibly think about offering you that he couldn’t just do so in the tomb. Or why he didn’t simply kill you and leave you there. You wouldn’t have even been the first scavenger body left in that tomb. Anyone who found you would’ve just thought you to be another unfortunate scavenger. And there’s certainly no one who would’ve come looking for you or asking questions.

It makes you wary. Sith aren’t the paragons of trust anyway, but one that seems to want to take you to a place that you don’t even know the name of is a little alarming. You don’t think you could outpower him either. Jungkook, probably. Your scuffle in the tomb spoke volumes of the fact that you could maybe have taken him. But Namjoon, you definitely couldn’t. He’d wielded his power so easily and effortlessly when he’d talked to you that it looked like he hadn’t even thought about what he was doing, just something that was second nature to him, as easy as breathing.

You only know that you’ve arrived at whatever the destination is by Jungkook’s return. The glower is still painted on his face and he’s quick to take your arm again and pull you along. You blink as you exit the ship, eyes widening as you take in your new surroundings. You’ve never seen so many towering buildings in person before. The sky is clouded and you would think it night were it not for the fact that it’s clearly busy as if it were the middle of the day.

“Where are we?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Stars, seriously? This is Dromund Kaas. The seat of the Empire.”

He tugs you down the ramp, but you’re too distracted by the buildings around you. Everything gleams despite the low light and your eyes shine with wonder. Everything is so full of life. And once you exit the port into a more prominent thoroughfare, people move in large crowds, shopping and laughing. There’s stalls with food that others stop at. Your stomach growls at the scents that fill your nose but Jungkook pays it no mind, either not having heard it or, more likely, he doesn’t care.

He weaves through the crowd easily until you come to a large building and you’re led inside to a lift. You startle when it starts to move. You’ve heard about them before, but you’ve never seen one before, let alone rode one and the sensation is disorienting. When the lift stops, the door swishes open and Jungkook is moving before you can even blink. You pass by a window, freezing when you see how high up you are. Everything looks so small from up here. You’re stopping forces Jungkook to stop as well, both angered and perplexed that he can’t tug you along.

The city sprawls out below you, the view is both breathtaking and terrifying. You thought you’d be doomed to a life of sand and sun, but even if Namjoon decides to kill you to get what he needs, then at least you can say you’d gotten to find your favorite view. Jungkook tugs you roughly and you stumble towards him.

“Come on, runaway. You don’t want to keep Namjoon waiting,” he smirks then and it’s full of malice. “Or maybe you should keep taking in the view. I think I’d like that outcome much more.”

You glare at him and push him in the direction he had been headed before you stopped. You weren’t going to make it that easy for him. He sighs, like he had wished that you would choose to stay in place. Arriving at an innocuous looking door, Jungkook enters a code into the lock and the door grants you both entry.

He leads you through an opulent apartment, the colors are all muted but warm and while there seems to be a lot of metal used, it looks cozy. The most startling thing is the greenery. There are plants everywhere, the one point of color in the room that isn’t muted. They all look well maintained and cared for and you’ve never seen so much green in one place. Especially one so small. There’s more windows that you pass as Jungkook takes you down a short hall to another door.

He knocks once before entering, giving you a shove as he releases you and he moves off to the side to lean against a wall. You stumble and glare at him as you right yourself. You glance around, he’s brought you to an office, your gaze settling on the large ornate desk in front of you. Lifting your gaze, you realize this must be Namjoon's office, given that he’s sat behind the desk, reading through a datapad like he hadn’t just taken you from another planet and might be preparing to have to get rid of a body.

He pays you no mind for a while, leaving you to shift uncomfortably. Was this meant to be a ploy to get what he wants, make you make the first move? You won’t play into his game and you straighten and stare him down, expression carefully blank. You’ve certainly kept your face blank through worse, dealing with your old seller. Finally he looks up, looking bored. He glances over you, eyes pausing on your pack that’s still clutched close to your body. He looks back to the datapad before setting it down and folding his hands together in front of him casually, like this is an everyday occurrence for him.

“I have two options for you moving forward.” You wonder if one of those is death. “The first is, give me the holocron in your bag there and in return, you will receive 1 million credits and a ride to whatever planet you wish to travel to.”

You blink. Had you really heard him right? A million credits? And you get to leave, alive? There’s no way. He stands, moving towards the window in his office. How many windows did they have here? They were everywhere. You couldn’t really have windows back home, too much sand and solid walls kept the heat out better.

He paces for a few moments like he’s mulling over his words before he continues. “Or,” he stops, back facing you. “You give me the holocron and you can become a sith.”

Jungkook makes a noise of protest. “You can’t be serious! Her? A sith? That’s a joke, right?”

Namjoon turns, giving Jungkook a dark look that shuts the younger man up immediately. His attention turns back to you and he moves closer, circling you. You feel like you’re on a selling block being inspected. “You’ll become my apprentice, train under me, carry out missions, and rise through the ranks. You’ll gain unimaginable power.” He stops directly behind you, leaning in till his lips just barely brush your ear and you shudder. “Isn’t that what you wish for most? To never be as powerless as you were when you were enslaved?”

He walks away, going back to his desk and picking the datapad back up to read like he didn’t just offer you a new life on a silver platter. “The choice is yours. You may think it over for a while. But time is precious and I won’t wait long.”

With that, his attention is completely taken by the datapad in his hand. You see Jungkook fuming in the corner, clearly not liking the offer Namjoon has extended to you. You can’t even enjoy it, your mind is reeling from the deal.

A million credits. Even in your wildest dreams you never envisioned having that much. You could get so far away from your old life. You’d never have to worry about money again. Never have to worry about looking over your shoulder, waiting for someone to catch on that you’d run from your owners. You could live a normal life. The money makes his other offer seem so absurd.

You? A sith? Could you really do something like that? You know you’ve never been entirely innocent, stealing a regular occurance when you were just trying to survive. But sith are evil. Did you think you could be evil?

Namjoon must think you could be, you doubt he extended the offer for no reason. He must see something in you that makes him want to train you. You think about the power you’d gain. No one could control you again without your permission. You could defend yourself so easily. You’d wield power you never could’ve imagined.

You lick your lips. It’s so enticing. It’d be so easy to just say yes, to hand over the holocron and become his apprentice. He didn’t seem wholly evil. He offered you money or a new life. But appearances could always be deceiving. You have no idea if he would follow through with his side.

You reach into your bag, pulling the glowing pyramid out. You stare at it and you know your decision. You set the holocron down in front of Namjoon and he looks up expectantly.

“Train me.”

He smiles and for the first time, you realize he has dimples. They would make him seem sweet and innocent were it not for the holocron below, casting red across his face and making the smile seem far more sinister. He nods.

“Wise choice, little one.” He waves Jungkook over. “Take her to Korriban. Get her registered at the academy and started on her trials. You can work on your training there as well while you wait.” He glances over you from head to toe, lips twisting in distaste. “Take her to get more appropriate clothes as well. And her saber when she passes. Ensure that she gets anything that she needs.” He turns his gaze to Jungkook, expression dark. “Understood?”

Jungkook’s lips twitch. “Yes, master.”

Namjoon turns back to you, a pleased smile curling his lips. “I have a few things that will keep me here for a while so I won’t see you until you return. But you will have your hands plenty full taking your trials. You will be in excellent care while I’m occupied as Jungkook will also be there. If you need anything, be sure to contact him.” Namjoon seems to realize something. “Right, Jungkook, get her a communicator as well when you’re getting her set up at the academy.” He looks thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “That’ll be all. Jungkook, go ahead and take the smaller ship.”

With that, Namjoon’s dismissal of you both is clear as he turns his attention to the holocron. Jungkook storms out of the room and you hurry to follow after, knowing that he won’t wait for you in this mood. He angrily paces the living room for a few moments before he’s rounding on you, finger jabbing into your chest.

“I don’t know what Namjoon is fucking playing at, but you will not be his apprentice. That’s me.” He sneers. “You’re going to be eaten alive at the academy. Namjoon has lost his mind if he really thinks you have what it takes to be a sith.”

You tilt your head, smiling and taking a step closer to Jungkook that seems to throw him off guard. “Oh? Namjoon certainly seems to be confident in my abilities. I’m sure it’ll be no time before I take over for you.”

His tongue pushes at his cheek in irritation. “Stars, I can’t wait to watch you fall. Won’t be so fucking cocky then, will you, runaway?”

He turns and leaves, you trail along after him, smirk firmly in place. Even if you don’t make it through whatever training you’ve got coming, you’re certainly going to enjoy teasing Jungkook. Especially when he makes it so easy to do.

Once back down on the ground, Jungkook continues his pace. You’d think he was trying to lose you in the crowd but his pace is just slow enough for you to just keep up with him. You come to a large plaza and you look around in wonder at all the people and merchants here. There’s more people here just shopping than there was in the entirety of the village you grew up in.

You almost lose Jungkook, distracted by a stall selling shiny trinkets, but he doubles back to drag you away. You can feel the irritation rolling off of him and that just makes you giggle. He finally comes to a store, one that’s actually in a building, and shoves you through the doorway.

The walls are stacked high with rolls of fabric, from sheers and lace to leather in every shade you could ever imagine. You stand in the doorway, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of fabric in the room. Jungkook slips past you, craning his neck to search the shop.

“My, my! Is that my little Jungkook again!” A voice calls from somewhere among the stacks of fabric.

Jungkook’s cheeks flare red and he glares at you as you bite your lip on a snicker. A small, older woman finally comes into view, pulling on a pair of glasses. Her already wide smile widens when her gaze falls on Jungkook. She immediately prods his stomach.

“Have you been eating well, boy?”

Jungkook pouts, actually pouts, and gently pushes her prodding hands away. “Bhea, please. Not now.” He whines and oh, you’re so enjoying this. “I have work for you.”

The woman, Bhea, frowns at that. She steps back slightly to look over Jungkook’s figure, shoving his cloak off so it puddles on the floor at his feet. She tilts her head and gestures to the expanse of him and you can’t help the way your eyes trail along his figure, the thick red belt at his waist does wonders to accentuate his tiny waist. He may be a jerk, but he’s got a great ass.

“I see nothing wrong with what I’ve already made.”

Jungkook makes a face, quickly stooping to pick up his cloak and fasten it back around his shoulders. He shakes his head and gestures towards you. “Not for me. A… new recruit.” His face twists with the last word.

“Is that your way of saying you’ve got a girlfriend? My little Jungkook is growing up so quick.” She rests a hand on her heart and Jungkook’s cheeks flood red and he waves his hands.

“No, I- That’s… She’s not my girlfriend. She’s nothing to me.”

Bhea gives him a nod and smirk and you can’t tell if she said that to tease him or if she really thought that. But the reaction was certainly worth it so you can’t be too upset by it. She turns her gaze to you finally. “Oh my, what a pretty little thing you are.” She coos, stepping closer as she inspects you. “We’ll get you fixed up with something much more suitable. Not these rags here.”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment. You knew your clothes were shabby, but you didn’t think they were all that bad. You did your best to keep them looking decent.

Bhea pays no mind to you, taking your hand and leading you towards the back of the shop. Jungkook follows behind. She leads you to a room where a droid sits, coming to life once she enters. She gestures to it.

“This is T43, he’ll take your measurements and then we can go pick out some fabrics and talk styles.”

She encourages you closer to the droid before turning and shooing Jungkook from the room. “You go, you don’t need to be in here for this.”

Jungkook splutters a protest but does nothing to stop Bhea as she pushes him out of the room and closes a curtain. She turns back to you with a smile, directing you so the droid can take all of your measurements while idly mentioning what sort of styles and colors would look good on you.

You barely get a word in as she happily rambles and you think that she’s mostly talking for her own benefit. Once you’ve been measured, she leads you back out to the main part of the shop and you see Jungkook looking over a stack of reds. You want to laugh at the predictability but Bhea is pulling you towards a stack of sheers.

Jungkook notices your return, frowning when he sees what Bhea is pawing through. “Those seem unnecessary.”

Bhea shoots him a look, eyebrow raised. Her gaze drops to his belt before dragging back up to look him in the eye. “Is it? Who says that a sith must dress boring in order to be a sith?” She taps her chin. “I would think Sith would be much more flexible in clothing given how simple the Jedi go. Am I wrong? You chose that belt when you didn’t need it.”

Jungkook pouts and you really wish you could get a picture for posterity. He might hate you, but he’s adorable when he pouts like that. “I suppose. Just… Make sure she can fight and move in whatever you make.”

She gives him a patronising smile. “What sort of seamstress do you take me for? She’ll be able to do anything in whatever I create for her.”

Jungkook bows his head, looking thoroughly chastised. “Of course, Bhea. I do not doubt your abilities.”

Nodding, Bhea turns back to the fabric, pulling colors out to hold against you before putting them back. She leads you around the shop, stopping at the leather fabric and linen as well. Finally, you’ve circled back to Jungkook where she waves you both out.

“Come back in 3 hours and she will have her clothes.”

“What? But-” Jungkook starts.

She holds up her hand before pointing out the door. “Go. Eat. I’m sure you’ve journeyed far today. Come back in 3 hours.”

Jungkook sighs but nods, turning and leaving with you in tow. He stands outside the shop, hands on his hips as he looks around.

“Where are we going?”

Jungkook’s face morphs into a scowl. “I’m going to get something to eat. I don’t care what you do.” He starts to walk away.

You follow, nudging his shoulder. “Namjoon told you to take care of me. So we’re going to get food.”

Jungkook opens his mouth, likely to argue but you catch the scent of something that makes your mouth water. You grab his arm to keep him still and inhale deeply. “Stars, what is that smell?”

You look around, eyes finally landing on a stall nearby that seems to be selling grilled meat. Your eyes alight when you see it and you immediately move towards it, dragging a protesting Jungkook with you. He can protest all he wants, it’s been so long since you’ve seen so much meat.

You stop in front of the stall, pouting up at him. “I want these.”

Jungkook looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “Then buy them.”

You look down, toeing at the ground. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked. Jungkook doesn’t seem likely to be sympathetic to the fact that he interrupted your attempt to get credits earlier. The silence stretches before Jungkook seems to realize the problem. “You don’t have any money.” It’s not a question.

“I would’ve if you two hadn’t shown up and taken what I was going to scrap.”

Jungkook looks even more perplexed. “You were going to scrap that? Do you know how much you could’ve sold that for elsewhere?”

“And how the hell would I have done that? Did you see any convenient places to do it while you were there?” You turn and walk away. Namjoon can tell him what to do till he’s blue in the face, but you know that won’t change Jungkook’s behavior when Namjoon’s not there to force him to be nice. “Do whatever you want. I’ll see you back at the shop.”

You wander the market for a little while. Trying not to stray too far and get lost. That’s the last thing you need, getting lost on an unfamiliar planet with no money and no place to go. You don’t walk for too long, fear of getting lost and hungry forcing you to head back to the shop, finding a bench nearby to sit on. At least sitting wouldn’t expend your energy too much. You watch people as they come and go in the market, thinking about how the future might end up.

You’re tired, but years of being on the run keeps you alert enough, knowing that this is the worst place you could possibly fall asleep. Even if you don’t have that much with you, you’d most likely just be sold off yourself. A shadow falls over you and you look up to see Jungkook. You close your eyes. You don’t want to deal with him picking another fight right now.

The smell of cooking meat fills your senses and you blink your eyes open to see a skewer of meat in front of your face. You look up to Jungkook’s face and he’s stubbornly looking away. You reach up slowly, afraid that this might just be some cruel trick, and take the meat from his hand.

Once you’ve taken it, he moves to sit beside you. “I guess I can’t let you starve if I want to see you fail the trials.”

You hide your smile by taking a bite. That’s a flimsy excuse and you both know it, but you let it slide. Jungkook produces a small box full of more skewers and sets it on the bench between the both of you and takes one for himself.

You eat in silence and it’s nice. You don’t feel quite as alone with him beside you as you did when you were here by yourself. Even if he does wish that you’d been left in a tomb on some backwater planet. It’s not friendship, but it’s something. It’s enough for now.

The time passes quickly, it gets marginally darker, but the cloud cover makes it hard to tell that any time passed at all. Jungkook stands and leads you back into the shop. Bhea is waiting for you both when you enter.

“Excellent. Everything is all finished. Come, come. Let’s get you changed.”

“Bhea.” Jungkook stops her and she glances at him in confusion. “We’ll take them to go. She can change on the ship. She should bathe first. It’s been a long day.”

You can’t tell if that’s a subtle dig at you or if he’s being genuinely caring. Or if he just wants to leave. Bhea purses her lips before she looks you over and tuts.

“Fine. But you still need to come with me so I can make sure you know how to wear everything.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow. “It’s clothing. Is it really that hard to figure out?”

You pat his cheek. “When it’s high fashion, if it’s not complicated, it’s not good.” You look over his clothes. “You probably wouldn’t understand.”

You turn around before you catch the way his face scrunches up as Bhea laughs. She leads you to the back room where she meticulously goes over each piece. Turns out you really do need her instructions, simply for the fact that she gave you options and she needs to tell you how to mix and match. Once you’re reasonably confident that you understand the different pieces to what is essentially your new uniform, she packs it all up for you.

When you take it, she folds her hand over yours to keep you in place and looks you in the eye. She nods. “You’ll fit very well.”

You frown at the cryptic words. Does she mean the clothes? Or is there something else to them? She releases you, shooing you out to Jungkook.

“I’ll send the payment request on to Lord Namjoon.” She smiles and waves.

Jungkook gives her a small bow and you do the same. You exit back to the market and Jungkook turns away from the port. You frown in confusion, following after.

“Where are we going?”

“You need a comm and it’s better to get it here than on Korriban,” he states matter of factly.

You let out a soft ‘oh.’ That made sense although you don’t know much about this Korriban. But you figure Jungkook probably knows the best place to get a communicator. You’re a little giddy. You’ve never owned one. They cost far too much for you to have ever afforded and you had no need for one when you were alone.

You only take a few turns before Jungkook is stopping at a stall where a person with soft mint colored hair is sorting through a box of electronics. The man at the stall turns before either of you say anything and he blinks sleepy, cat-like eyes at you before his gaze slides over to Jungkook. His lips part in a smile.

“Ah, Jungkookie. What can I do for you today?”

Jungkook flushes at the name, gaze darting to you before going back to the man before you. “Just need a communicator.”

The man raises an eyebrow, glancing at you. “Got something to hide from Namjoon?”

Jungkook flushes darker and glares. “No. It’s for her. Namjoon is paying for it.”

The man chuckles, holding up his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say.” He turns to you. “What kind of communicator do you want? I think I’ve got a few in stock right now.”

You blink, opening your mouth before closing it again. You look at Jungkook helplessly. He sighs when he sees your gaze, turning to the man.

“Just pull them out, Yoongi. She’s not going to know the technical differences. She can just pick whichever she thinks is prettiest.”

You bristle slightly at the words. Yoongi shrugs, tugging a few devices out from a drawer beneath the table and setting them in front of you. You look them over carefully.

Jungkook sighs again. “Just pick one. It’s not that hard.”

You glare at him before looking back at the items in front of you. “Just because I’ve never had one before doesn’t mean I don’t understand how electronics work.” You give him a look. “Did you forget how I made a living?”

Yoongi hides a chuckle and picks up one of the devices. “This is probably the newest I’ve got. It’s only one or two models behind what’s current.”

You take it from his outstretched hand, inspecting it carefully. “How did you come by this one?”

“Bought it off a guy.”

“Why did he sell it? What’s wrong with it?”

Yoongi smiles, looking pleased with your questioning. “Nothing’s wrong with it. The idiot got in debt to the wrong person and he needed credits quick. I was happy to oblige.”

You nod thoughtfully. “This is good then. I’ll take it.”

Yoongi nods, putting the other comms away. “You said to bill Joon?” He looks to Jungkook for confirmation.

Jungkook nods. “I’m sure I’ll be bringing it back soon though.” He says with a malicious smirk directed at you.

You smile sweetly up at him. “Aw, are you planning to buy me a better one once I pass my trials? That’s so sweet of you, Jungkookie.”

Yoongi’s laugh interrupts whatever Jungkook was about to say. “Oh, I think she’s going to do very well.”

Jungkook’s face twists as he spins on his heel to stalk away from the stall. “Let’s go.” He snarls.

You giggle, giving Yoongi a wave before jogging to catch up to Jungkook. You make your way through the city, trying not to stop and stare in wonder and hoping that you get to come back here when you can explore the place freely. Jungkook stops to talk to someone at the entrance to the port before he’s continuing through the doors. He walks past ship after ship, each one more impressive than the last.

Finally he stops in front of one that’s a little smaller than many of the previous ones but no less grand than them. He leads you up the ramp and gestures to the left. “There’s a bedroom that way with a bathroom attached. You can shower and change there. The trip to Korriban isn’t terribly long, but better to get ready now. It should be daybreak when we get there and you can be registered and sent to your trial right away.”

He walks the opposite direction before you can ask anything further. You watch him as he disappears around a corner before making your way in the direction he has indicated, hoping it’s easy to find the room he mentioned. Lucky for you, there appears to be only two doors in this direction, the first revealing a storage room and the second revealing the simple bedroom he’d indicated.

You set your things down on bed, running a hand gently across the bag. It’s the first time in a long while that you’ve actually gotten new clothes, especially ones that are made with such nice fabric. It makes you want to do good in the trial all the more. To prove to Namjoon, and even more so to Jungkook, that you deserve to have these. You sort through the different pieces, choosing what you want your outfit to be and lay them out on the bed.

You move to the bathroom, it’s small but still more hightech than anything you’ve ever used before. You strip in the doorway, leaving the shabby, dirty clothes from your old life on the floor as you step into the bathroom properly. It only takes you a moment to work out the controls for the water and soon enough, hot water is pouring over you as the small room fills with steam.

You groan, the water almost too hot to handle, but the way you can already feel the grim sliding from your skin makes it more than worth the slight sting from the heat. You stand under the spray and your thoughts drift again to what the future may hold. This is an interesting opportunity, you certainly never thought that you would end up with the possibility of becoming such a powerful being.

But on the other hand, could you be evil? You’ve really only heard of sith before, stories passed around the compound at night and things told to make a child listen. Meeting Jungkook and Namjoon was your first encounter with one ever and they weren’t quite what you’d come to expect. Did becoming a sith mean something different than what you had originally thought? Were they wholly evil?

Namjoon certainly didn’t seem that way, he could’ve just killed you, easily at that, and left your body in that tomb. No one would’ve known. But he didn’t. Instead, he offered you a choice, money or power. The two things you’ve never had, two things you’ve wanted for as long as you could remember. To have enough of either that you could be your own person. He offered you that chance, how could you say no? When everything you wanted was within your grasp.

Even Jungkook didn’t seem that evil. You really don’t think that evil people would get embarrassed and blush the way he did with Bhea. Or have such a clear respect for her the way he did. For all the anger he holds towards you, he doesn’t seem to be purposefully malicious. Maybe you could be a sith. Maybe they’ve only gotten bad reps because of the few incredibly powerful sith out there. The public ones, the ones that make names for themselves, that want to be remembered for millenia.

You look around, finding some soap and scrubbing yourself almost raw in the need to finally feel clean. Once you deem yourself clean enough, and with the idea that maybe you don’t have to be totally evil to be a sith, you shut the water off. You look through the storage cabinets until you find something to dry yourself off with and make your way back into the bedroom.

You dress slowly, relishing in the feel of the fabric against your skin. It’s so different from the rough material you wore before. You step up to the mirror, making a few final adjustments before you’re giving yourself one last lookover.

You have to give it to Bhea, she certainly knows how to dress a sith. The leather pants are soft and supple, you’d thought they’d be stiff, but you know you’ll be able to easily move in these. They blend in well with the black leather boots. The shirt itself is simple, just a plain black tank top in a soft, breathable fabric, but it’s topped by a short vest in a deep blue, strands of beads latching it closed across your breasts and joining the collar to close around your neck.

Bands of black metal wrap around your wrists and mid-bicep holding sheer fabric in the same shade as the vest, one large slit running the length to allow better movement . Your belt wraps around your waist, a mix of more blue fabric and black metal, panels of more sheer hanging down to your ankles in shifting shades of blue and purple and speckled with glitter, giving the impression of a galaxy.

You’d think that the skirt would make it hard to move efficiently, but a few experimental stretches show that the panels are put together in a way that they hold large slits to not hinder your movement. You run your fingers through your hair and smile. You feel like an entirely new person and you can’t help but think that maybe this would be a really good change.

You open the door, startling when you come face to face with Jungkook, who looks just as surprised as you. His gaze drops to your new clothes, eyes widening as he takes in the expanse of skin exposed on your neck and upper chest. You see him swallow before he’s jerking his gaze away, cheeks turning red and his tongue pushing against his cheek, though this time it seems to be for a reason entirely unrelated to being annoyed at you.

“I was just coming to make sure you didn’t break anything.” He mutters. “I see that you’re fine. I’ll be in the cockpit.” And he turns and walks away before you can say anything.

You hold in a snicker at his reaction, pleased at the way he tried and failed to hide the way his cheeks flushed. You dart after him, following him the short distance to the other side of the ship.

Your snarky comment dies on your tongue as soon as you cross the threshold, suddenly staring out into space. Your mouth drops open and you move closer to the window, gaze wide eyed as you watch the stars pass you.

Jungkook watchs you quietly, scowl softening at the way the starlight shines on your wonder-filled face. He clears his throat, shaking his thoughts from his mind, “You might want to sit down. Now that you’re done, we’re going to jump to hyperspace.”

You turn to stare at him, watching as he takes a seat at the controls and it takes you a second to realize what he said, scurrying to take the seat beside him before he decides to go ahead while you’re still standing. You watch in fascination at the way his hands flit over the controls, completely at ease and confident in his motions.

The ship jerks slightly and you turn your gaze back to the window as the stars turn into streaks of light, blurring by as you fly through space. You don’t know how long it lasts, it feels like you blink and the stars are starting to return to pinpricks of light as a massive red planet looms before you both.

Jungkook sets the ship down with minimal fuss before he’s leading you off the ship. The land surrounding the landing bay is arid and sandy and your nose wrinkles in distaste. You just came from sand and now you’re back. Why couldn’t they have built this somewhere nicer.

You trail after Jungkook as he moves inside, easily navigating the labyrinthine hallways of the building. He stops by what appears to be an armory, motioning for you to stay by the door while he goes to speak to the Twi’lek in there. They exchange a few laughs before the Twi’lek hands something to Jungkook that looks like a stun baton. He hands it to you once he’s close enough.

Frowning, you tentatively take it. “What is it?”

He snorts, eyes rolling as he starts walking again. “Well you can’t get a saber until you pass your trials. But you need some sort of weapon to take them. That’s a training saber. All acolytes use them for their trials. If you pass, then you’ll get a lightsaber.”

You give it a few practice swings, testing its weight, narrowly missing Jungkook’s arm. He gives you a dark look and you sheepishly drop your arm. You hadn’t actually meant to almost hit him, the balance hadn’t been what you were expecting. He makes a few more turns before entering another room. You linger in the doorway but Jungkook waves you to follow until you’re standing before a man sitting at a desk.

“Overseer. This is the… acolyte that Lord Namjoon would like to put into the trials.”

The Overseer’s brow raises, a playful smirk on his face as he eyes you over before he’s looking at Jungkook. “He looking for an upgrade?”

Jungkook’s shoulder tense, but his words come out friendly and joking. “Shut up. You know no one can best me.” He gestures you closer. “She’s all yours. I’ll be upstairs in the training rooms.” He pauses before an almost sinister smile stretches his lips. “Test her well.”

You bat your eyelashes up at him, lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout. “Aw, you’re not gonna stick around to watch me pass? I thought we were friends.”

Jungkook makes a face of disgust. “Like I would ever stoop so low for friends.” He snarls before leaving.

The Overseer laughs as he watches Jungkook’s retreating figure before he’s standing and beckoning you to follow him through a different door.

The room he leads you to is massive, but holds only a large table in the middle of the room. With a wave of his hand, the table comes to life to reveal that it’s a holo map. He walks the length of the table before stopping at an outcropping of rocks. He gestures to the ends of the table where you can see what looks like part of the building you’re currently in is sat then draws your attention to the area he’s standing by.

“That is the exit to the Valley. This is a tomb that holds a holocron full of ancient secrets. Retrieve it and bring it back here.”

You squint at him. That seems way too easy. “That’s all?”

He gestures to the expanse between the two points. “Well you have to get there on your own. And remember the way back. If you get lost out there, you’re on your own.”

“How long do I get?”

He snorts. “You just need to bring it back. Time doesn’t matter for this.”

You step closer to examine the map. It doesn’t seem too terribly far to the tomb, though there are a few twists and turns on the way and it certainly seems like it’d be easy enough to get lost. And getting lost on a desert planet is never good.

“Do I get supplies?” You look up at him.

“Do you need them?” He seems slightly perplexed, like he’s never been asked that before.

You walk around the table, tracing the best path to take. “It’s not very long. But given the unfamiliar terrain, weather, and day cycle, it could take longer than one would think. Also, once in there it could take a while. I doubt this would be some sort of trial if it were as easy as walking a ways to a tomb and retrieving a holocron.” You glance at the saber. “And highly doubt I would need a weapon for something easy. So, yes, supplies seem necessary.”

He nods appraisingly at you. “I can see why Lord Namjoon is interested in you.” He gestures behind you to a set of large double doors. “When you go through there, there’s a small requisitions area you can get supplies at. The room then opens out into the Valley.” He approaches you. “There’s one last thing before I let you go. ‘Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.’ The Sith Code. That is your new philosophy. Learn it. Etch it into your heart because it is one with you now as much as the Force is.”

You nod, repeating the words in your head, feeling exhilarated at the rush of power that follows.

The Overseer nods and gestures to the table. “Take as much time as you need in here and begin whenever you are ready. You know what you must do.”

With that, he leaves, retreating back to his office. You watch him go before turning back to the map and looking over the path you want to take to the tomb. It’s simple enough but you go over it multiple times, committing it to memory and working out landmarks you can use to keep you from getting too hopelessly lost if you happen to get turned around out there. He said there was no time component but you can’t help but feel like you need to go at least a little fast. Something about the dismissive way that Jungkook thinks that you won’t pass makes you want to succeed and succeed quickly. Maybe also because you want to impress Namjoon, prove that you’re worth the chance he took on you.

Once you’re reasonably confident that you know the path, you go through the door the Overseer had indicated, met with a smaller room that opens to the outside. The building sits on a rise on this side, you can see the sand sloping away from the building and the way the maze-like canyon of tombs is laid out almost from above. The room for the most part sits empty, sand beginning to creep back into the building from the doorway to outside. One wall of the room is taken by a counter, behind which you see a Chiss woman working among some shelves.

When you approach, she looks a little surprised but pauses her work to meet you at the counter. “How can I help you?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

“I wanted to get some supplies for my trials.”

“For your trials? You think it’ll take that long?”

You don’t understand why they keep pushing like this is strange. There’s obviously more to your trial than what was told. Being better prepared means that you have an even better chance of survival. “Yes.” You gesture toward the door leading out. “You can’t predict weather in a place like this. Or what’s going to happen once you get into a tomb.” You knew that one painfully well. “If I want to survive and pass, I should make sure I’m as well equipped as possible, yes?”

Her lips curl into a pleased smile. “Of course.” She slides a small datapad over. “This is everything available to acolytes. Choose whatever you feel you need.”

You glance over the list, it’s fairly small, but you suppose they don’t want to give too much to people who may not return and they’d prefer to not lose things to the tomb when they already hold such secrets. That certainly won’t be you though.

“I’ll take a medkit, a couple of rations, a fire starter, flashlight, and a small blanket. Oh, and a shoulder bag.”

The woman nods and moves among the shelves, gathering the things that you noted. She slides them across the counter to you.

“You’re all set. Good luck acolyte. You certainly have more promise than some others I’ve seen venture out into the desert with nothing but their training saber.” She gives you a nod and turns back to the shelves.

You take the bag, arranging your supplies in it before slipping it over your head and adjusting it so it sits comfortably on your hip. You pause at the doorway, looking out over the Valley before you. You close your eyes and recite the code in your head again, smiling when that same heady rush of power fills you. Determination in your eyes as you open them, you set foot into the Valley.

You make it to the tomb relatively easily. You barely had to rely on your memory of the location, your body just seemed to know where to go and you trusted your instincts. You had one momentary hiccup where you had to fight a giant beast with tusks that were easily the size of your arm. You’d thought you’d be able to just skirt around it, but it seemed to sense you and once it’s gaze locked on you, it was relentless in pursuit. It was an ugly thing but fierce. Luckily it was so big that it wasn’t very nimble and you could easily navigate around it. You’ve fought big things before and know that if you can get on top that it’s all over for them. Especially when you have something as powerful as the training saber. You can’t wait to get your real one.

The entrance to the tomb is open but deserted and it leaves you instantly on high alert. You move slowly inside to see that torches have been lit and hung on pillars, casting a flickering glow on the walls. You pause, listening to see if you can hear anyone else, but there’s only the faint sound of the wind blowing through the valley behind you.

Moving cautiously, you creep further into the tomb. The Overseer didn’t tell you where exactly the holocron was going to be, but the tomb can’t be that complicated to navigate, at least given the previous one you’d been in. You check for signs of recent activity, but aside from the lit torches, there appears to be no signs of people having recently been in the antechamber.

You take a second to look closer around the room, noticing two halls that branch off from this room. Pursing your lips, you move closer to one side, trying to read the inscription beside the hall but it’s written in a language you don’t understand so it’s not particularly helpful.

You glance between the two ways once again, but something tells you that this is the one you need to go down. Your instincts haven’t failed you yet so you head down the hallway, careful to keep your steps light and soundless.

The path doesn’t branch, just twists and turns and it feels like ages before you come to another room. You crouch, because you hear voices echoing here. You peek around the corner, keeping yourself pressed as close to the wall as possible and slowly scan the room before you. It takes you a few minutes before you discover the source of the voices, a few figures tucked amongst some pillars and rubble and shadows.

You double check the rest of the room, ensuring that the only people here are those gathered in the small group. When you confirm the rest of the room's emptiness, you look for a way to creep closer, there’s too much echo and they’re speaking too lowly for you to hear what exactly they’re saying beyond that they are speaking. A downed pillar stretches out from the door towards the group and if you stay low enough to the ground, they won’t be able to see you.

Creeping along, you’re careful to avoid any loose rubble so you don’t alert the others to your presence. Once close enough, you stop and listen to the conversation happening.

“We’ve tried everything. We’re never going to pass if we can’t get in there.” One says, voice laced with irritation.

“I know that. But it’s clearly meant to be open. We just have to find the right key. What did the inscription say again?”

“The essence of life, the key to power, bathe the crystal to gain it’s knowledge.” You hear a third recite.

You didn’t see any sort of crystal when you entered. It must be further in then.

“That’s so stupid. Why do they always have to be vague?” The first one sighs.

You listen as the two begin discussing what they’ve tried and what the inscription could mean, missing that the second person hasn’t spoken in a while until their voice suddenly comes from much closer.

“Well, well. What have we here?” You look up with wide eyes as the red skinned man towers over your crouched form. You’ve never seen a Sith pureblood before, but you’ve heard plenty about them. His eyes shrewdly take in your form before he’s laughing cruelly. He glances over to his companions. “I think I’ve got a few new ideas to try to get that door open.”

He reaches for you but you quickly push yourself back and scramble to your feet. You see the other two have also risen to their feet and look startled by your sudden appearance. You put some more space between them and yourself. You look them over and see that they each have training sabers of their own. Acolytes. You knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as just walking into a tomb and retrieving a holocron.

The Sith approaches you slowly. “You know, there’s one thing that’s very vital to life. Something that just happens to be liquid and we can easily use to bathe a crystal in.” He muses and you feel your stomach sink at the implication.

The other two look lost for a moment before realization crosses their faces, replaced by matching smirks. One of them speaks. “Seems there’s someone looking out for us.”

Three blades are pulled out and your chest constricts. One you could probably take. Three at once? You’d think you’d have better chances at fighting a herd of those beasts from earlier. You roll your shoulders and pull your own saber out. You think of Jungkook and the smarmy look that would surely be on his face if you fail and let that rage fill you.

You smirk. “You can certainly try.”

The Sith steps back, letting the other two advance on you. You know there’s too much rubble where you were eavesdropping for a good fight, all too easy to lose your footing and so you back up towards the middle of the room where the rubble is more sparse. They follow, and you can tell by their snickering that they think you’re backing away because you’re scared. What a joke they’d make becoming sith if they can’t even think about their surroundings while starting a fight.

Your saber hums to life with little effort and you level the two with an eyebrow raised in challenge. The smaller of the two charges, saber held aloft and you easily deflect the intended blow. He’s sloppy in his movements, he clearly doesn’t have a lot of formal training weilding a weapon. Sabers and poles are vastly different but many of the principles are similar and that is going to give you an advantage over this one at the very least.

He lets out a frustrated cry and spins to try to attack again, but it’s another blow that you easily shrug off. If he was smart he’d work with his companions to attack instead of doing it alone. His next attack, you deflect and grab his wrist twisting until he drops his saber with a yelp of pain. Once it’s out of his hand you shove him roughly away and he stumbles and falls at his companion’s feet.

You stoop down to pick up his fallen saber, grinning at the three wide eyed looks you recieve. You twirl them both. “Well, are we doing this?”

The one who’s saber you took struggles to his feet, looking helplessly to his companions. The other leans over to whisper in his ear and then they’re both moving together, the smaller one circling behind you, while the other approaches you from the front. You listen carefully for the one you can’t see while keeping your eyes focused on the one in front of you.

This one seems a lot more calculating in their movements, slower and more careful to act than the first. They’ll be a little more difficult, but they still seem to underestimate you. They attack and you block with one saber while using the other to make your own attack while they’re distracted. They’re not distracted enough, just barely dodging your attack and moving quickly out of your range. You meet in a few instances of blows and parries before they manage to catch your wrist when you try to attack.

You're quickly seized from behind by the other, arms tight around your waist. You squirm in his hold but his grip remains firm. The one holding your wrist tightens their grip in a clear bid to get you to drop the saber but remembering your fight with Jungkook, you quickly lift your feet, taking advantage of the one holding you and kicking the one in front of you.

All three of you are pushed back, your landing cushioned by the body beneath you, leaving you less stunned than either of them. You turn quickly, slamming the butt of the saber into the side of his head and his head lulls to the side. You try not to think if it’s in unconsciousness or death. That’ll be something to dwell on later.

Panting, you push yourself to your feet, watching as the other struggles to their feet as well, blood dripping from their temple. They look furious and rush you, clearly past cautiousness and just wanting to be rid of you. Their fast and brutal attacks leave you struggling to keep up and block, a couple glancing blows leaving burns on your arms.

You can’t let this be the end. You didn’t run away from your slave life just to fail when your true freedom is within reach. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and let the force flow through you. You push back, forcing the other to take steps back or risk being hit. They get only a few steps before they trip over a piece of rubble, saber dropping from their hand.

You point one saber at their throat. “I would give up.” You warn.

They snarl at you. “As if I ever would. You’re weak.”

You press the tip of the other saber to their chest until they cry out from the searing pain. They spit something else at you, blindly reaching for their saber and you press the tip more firmly into their chest, it sinks half an inch into the flesh.

“Surrender.”

“I’ll die either way. Better in a fight than to be called a coward.” They push themselves up just enough for the saber to sink a little further in, crying out in pain.

You hesitate. Did it make you evil to kill them? It was self defense. Kill or be killed. Would they have been killed if they made it back unsuccessfully? You realize that the way the Overseer had spoken that yes, they were likely to be killed if they made it back without completing their task. Or worse, enslaved. This is a mercy, you think as you push the saber completely through their chest.

They splutter, blood dripping from their mouth as they twitch once before dropping, lifeless, back to the ground. You take a second to process, even when escaping enslavement, you hadn’t killed anyone. You blink a few times before jerking the saber out of their chest, ignoring the conflicting feelings you still have and turn back to the Sith.

He hasn’t moved since he discovered you, standing there passively observing your fight with his own saber drawn. He looks from one body to the other and shrugs.

“Well you saved me the trouble. But I’m afraid that this is the end for you now.”

You snort. “Good luck.”

He tilts his head. “Bold for someone untrained.”

“No, I just know what’s at stake and what I have to prove.”

He nods slightly, stepping close but stopping a few feet away from you. He doesn’t move further. He’s a lot more confident and most likely has had more training. You assume this was exactly what the Overseer was banking on since he didn’t seem confident in your return. He doesn’t even seem all that worried about the impending fight, stance relaxed, saber held loosely at his side. He looks more like he’s going for a stroll than a fight.

You flex your grip on your sabers. You’ve never fought two handed before, but having them in your hands feels right. It gives you the confidence that you can handle this fight.

He continues to stand in place and you assume he’s waiting for you to make a move, hoping to use whatever momentum you create against you. Meaning that you can’t attack first, you have to wait. It’s strange to stand there waiting to be attacked, but you won’t give in to his play.

He snorts when the minutes continue to stretch then his free hand raises and with a flick of his wrist, you’re pushed back; stumbling and tripping over some rubble. Your arm scraps against the stone, fine lines of red forming. You push yourself up, face hard. Against your better judgement, you charge. You have to, you have to get close to do any damage. Your control of the Force is severely lacking and that’s definitely come back to hurt you here. You just have to think a step ahead of him; if he knows what he’s going to do when you charge, you have to know how to counter that.

He sidesteps the attack and you turn, foot kicking out and connecting with his side. He slams into the pillar. He shoves himself off of it with a snarl. He seems to be done playing around, advancing on you slightly quicker than you had anticipated. You take a few steps back, feet shifting to give you a better bracing stance. You know his attack is going to be fast and brutal, giving you no easy way to maneuver so you need to be prepared now.

The first clash of his blade against yours has your feet sliding back an inch with the force of it. The impact vibrates your whole arm. You try to get an attack in with your other saber, but he quickly grabs your wrist, squeezing until it starts to hurt. You push with the other blade, just enough force to send him back and get him to release your hand. You only get a second’s reprieve before he’s attacking again.

Time blurs as you fight, it’s a struggle to keep up with him. He’s at an advantage, he didn’t have to fight 2 other people first. Your muscles ache but you can’t stop for even a second; it could be a matter of life or death. He gets a few hits in, nothing too bad, but you can feel the blood dripping from each wound, feel the tug of singed skin with each movement. You get a few hits in too; which seems to enrage him all the more.

He begins to get sloppy the angrier he gets; it makes his moves both easier and harder to predict. But you work out a tentative plan, if you can get him prone, you can win this. You’ve just gotta get him on the ground first. Your fight has moved you across a large part of the room and you manage to catch sight of some large loose stones behind him. You grit your teeth, forcing him further back, towards the stones. He deflects your attack and you are completely blindsided when his fist connects with your jaw.

It sends you stumbling, one saber dropping from your hand and you taste iron on your tongue. You spit, turning back and bringing the saber still in your hands down with all your strength. He stumbles from the force of the impact, taking a step back to brace himself but he ends up stepping on some rubble and he falls.

You stomp the heel of your boot into his wrist until his saber falls and you kick it away. His hand raises and you can feel the Force gathering around it. You mirror him, trying your best to draw the Force to you the way he is. The blasts meet between you both, each of you being pushed back a few inches. Sweat beads along your hairline as all your concentration and will goes into matching the strength of his push.

Pain blossoms in your head and you wince, but you push past the pain, ignoring it as best you can as you struggle to take a step forward. It takes a minute, but you manage the step and the small victory gives you enough of an encouraging boost to continue to slowly advance on the man. He seems mildly surprised but aside from the slight rise in his eyebrows, he appears unphased.

The pain in your head is excruciating when you’re finally close enough to him and something wet drips from your nose. It takes everything you have left to lift your other hand, the one that, by some miracle, still clutches your saber. You take a breath, gaze meeting his and you smirk in triumph.

He looks confused for only a second before you embed the saber in as far as you can. His hand spasms and a massive burst of energy erupts, sending you both flying. You slam into some rubble, wheezing as dust rises around you. Stars dance in your vision and you can feel consciousness slipping away from you.

Gasping awake, you stare at the ceiling. You hadn’t even realized you’d passed out; you also have no idea how long you may have been passed out for. It could’ve been minutes or hours, even a whole day or more is possible. All you really know is that everything hurts. And it’s a testament to how out of it you are that it takes you a moment to realize that the fact that you’re awake at all must mean that you succeeded.

You pant as you struggle to push yourself upright. You hurt and when you reach up to touch the back of your head, your hand comes away red and wet. That certainly explains the dizziness and the difficulty you have standing now. You have to take a moment standing completely still before you feel confident enough to move at all and even when you do, you stumble and trip the whole way to your pack.

You dig through it, pulling the medpac out once you find it and rifling through until you find the bacta salve. Your fingers slip when you try to open it and you nearly drop it. Wiping your hands off on your clothes, your second attempt is much more successful. Blindly reaching behind you, you rub some of the salve onto your head where it seems wettest; it leaves your hair feeling heavy and greasy. You have no idea if you actually managed to cover the wound with the healing salve but the lessening sting you feel seems to say that you at least got some of it close enough to get some of the effects. You spend some time spreading some across the rest of your wounds and the small container is quickly emptied. You can only hope nothing worse happens to you.

You slump against the pillar once finished. You feel like you could sleep for a week. But you don’t have the luxury of time here. Plus, you’re fairly certain that even if your current competition is dealt with, there’s sure to be more coming. You give yourself a few minutes though, taking the time to see if the medpac holds any sort of painkiller; which to your luck, it does.

You swallow the pills dry before you push yourself back to your feet. Shouldering your pack and collecting both your saber and the new one you’re now claiming as yours, one of which you have a hard time prying from the chest of the dead Sith, you move towards the only other door in this room, the one that the three other acolytes had been gathered next to. If you’d been the first one here, you probably wouldn’t have even realized it was actually a door. The whole thing was made of the same stone as the wall and pillars surrounding it, the seams barely noticeable. The only difference to the walls is the small plaque sent into the wall beside a recessed circle of stone just a little bigger than your hand, a small crystal set in the center of it.

You look over the plaque, but it does you no good because you have no idea what language it’s written in. It takes you a minute to recall what the acolytes had said it said. The essence of life, the key to power, bathe the crystal to gain it’s knowledge. They had seemed to have some idea of the answer when they discovered you. Essence of life? You glance at your hand, once again streaked with blood. Oh, essence of life.

Tentatively you reach out, smearing your blood onto the crystal. You step back expectantly. You frown when nothing happens, blood has to be the essence of life. Why didn’t it work? You think through the inscription again. You’ve got the essence of life… The key to power?

Oh. Oh, you need more than just the essence to open this. You step forward, you don’t have the slightest idea on how to do this, but you’ve got to try at the very least. The circle did seem pretty conveniently hand sized. The stone is cool against your palm, but the crystal feels oddly warm. The Force is the key to power, you just have to figure out how to channel it with no previous training. Closing your eyes, you focus on getting something to happen. But after a few moments where nothing changes, you open your eyes again with a huff.

You think back to when Jungkook had you by the throat and the power you felt gathering around you when you kicked him away, to all the occurences during the fight where you felt the force surround you like a cloak. But no matter how hard you try, there’s no shift in the air around you. You growl in frustration, shoving ineffectually at the wall.

Why was it so hard to get the Force to cooperate with you now? You hadn’t even been trying before. You think back through everything you’ve been told, which isn’t all that much, but you really hope that maybe there’s a clue hidden somewhere in someone’s words. But you woefully can’t find much of anything that might help, the only thing you really learned was the sith code.

You pause, the code. You know you might look stupid, but luckily there’s no one around right now to see that. You place your hand back in the circle, taking a calming breath. Then you recite the sith code, feeling power cloak you and slide down your arm. It connects with the crystal and searing pain shoots up your arm as lightning races across your skin.

You cry out in pain, jerking your hand away from the wall. The pain stops immediately but the door remains firmly shut. You chew your lip, looking down at your hand. It looks completely unscathed, you wiggle your fingers and aside from a slight tingle of discomfort, you’d have thought you imagined the lightning.

Had you done something wrong? The inscription seemed easy enough, there doesn’t seem like another component to it. You decide to try again, maybe you just weren’t concentrating enough. However the same thing happens when you try again. You need to do this. You need to prove that you have what it takes, you refuse to give Jungkook the satisfaction of seeing you fail and being right. You know you’re strong enough to be better than him.

Your eyes widen, strength. That had to be what you were missing here. With power, sith value strength, if you lack strength then you lack power. You stare at the wall, this isn’t going to be pleasant.

Putting your hand back into the slot, you steel yourself, gritting your teeth as the lightning starts as soon as you finish reciting the code. It hurts. You have to brace your other hand on the wall in an attempt to keep you grounded and from pulling your hand away. You think of how smug Jungkook would be if you never came back. You refuse to fail.

You don’t know how long the pain lasts; you feel slightly delirious from the crackle of power that traces your veins. But as abruptly as it came, it stops, leaving you breathless. There’s stone grinding against stone and the wall rumbles beneath your hands. You slowly pull away, afraid that it’ll stop and you’ll have to endure another round of pain. To your relief, it continues and soon enough the door is swinging open before you. The hallway that is revealed is dark for a moment before crystals lining the walls slowly come to life, swathing the length of the hall in a red glow.

You wait, making sure that nothing else is going to happen before stepping cautiously into the hall and making your way down it. Halfway down the hallway, an odd feeling settles in your gut and you find yourself stepping back. Your confusion at the action is short lived when a moment later, lightning arcs between the walls where you had just been about to walk. It looks much more lethal than what engulfed you to open the door.

You breathe a sigh of relief, thankful for whatever it was that tipped you off to the trap. You proceed carefully, hoping that there’s not anymore traps or if there are, that you can sense it before it’s too late. You safely reach the end of the hall, the room is small, barely wider than the hall. In the center of the room is a pedestal, about the width of your shoulders, on which sits a jet black pyramid, the top quarter of which is clear.

Approaching carefully, you look through the transparent material and can just make out the shape of the holocron within. You run your fingers across the surface of the pyramid, looking for anything that may open it, but the material is completely smooth, even where the two different materials join is seamless. You look around the room, hoping for any other clues, but the room is all smooth stone, no inscriptions or writings or anything. You walk a few circles around the pedestal, trying to figure out how to continue when something begins to glow in the corner, drawing your attention. A wash of blue fills the corner, quickly forming the shape of a woman. It’s hard to tell her race, her entire being is tinted blue, but she’s unmistakably a sith. There’s something about the way she holds herself and the thick black robes that shroud her form.

She gazes at you calmly, gaze trailing slowly over you and you’ve never felt more insignificant and scrutinized, not even when Namjoon looked at you. Her lips curl into a pleased smile and she gives a small nod. A soft click sounds and you turn to see the pyramid has opened, granting you access to the holocron within. When you turn back to the figure, whether to question her or thank her you’re not sure, but she’s gone once you look back.

You belatedly realize she must have been a Force ghost. You’ve heard the tales of them, but you didn’t think you’d ever encounter one in your life. She had looked almost… approving of you being here. You wonder who she was and, more importantly, why she had helped you. At least, you assume she helped you. There’s really no other explanation as to why or how the pyramid opened when she nodded. You quickly gather the holocron, tucking is safely away inside your bag.

You take the hall back to the antechamber, sparing a glance to the bodies that remain. You feel a little bad about just leaving them there. But you know if it were reversed that they’d have left you here to rot too. And, you reason, this is a tomb. Bodies are meant to rest here. It’s better than being left outside and rot away under the sun just to be torn apart and eaten by animals.

You continue through the ruins, retracing your path back to the entrance quietly, sure to keep an ear listening for anyone who may have come after you. You encounter no one though and you take only a moment at the doorway to outside to recall your route back to the Academy before you’re setting out.

You make it maybe halfway before the wind picks up. You freeze, sudden wind is never good. You take a look around, quickly locating the rapidly approaching wall of tan in the distance. Scanning your surroundings in the valley, you see no immediate place to take shelter and panic rises in you. You try to recall the map and if there’s something nearby, but you hadn’t paid much attention to other tombs and areas of the map. You really wish you had. You glance back to the approaching storm, you don’t have long before you get trapped in it. Quickening your pace, you continue on the path back to the academy, hoping that you can find shelter along the way soon.

The sand starts to whip around you and you grab a cloth from your bag to cover your nose and mouth to at least keep you from breathing in the sand now that the storm is practically on top of you and you’ve yet to find somewhere to hide. You’re about to give up hope on finding shelter when the slightest glint of metal off to your right catches your attention and you don’t even think twice before sprinting towards it.

You make it through the threshold just as the storm begins in earnest outside, the sudden gusts pushing you further inside. You double over, coughing, as you try to catch your breath and expel the sand that you managed to breath in. You wheeze for a moment before pushing yourself upright, glancing around to finally take in your surroundings.

You assume it’s another tomb, though this one appears far more modern than the previous one, given that this one is all polished metal. There’s signs that this has been explored thoroughly, which leaves you feeling a little relieved because that means that it’s unlikely that anyone will be here right now. Turning, you look out the opening to watch the sandstorm. You have no idea how long it’ll last, sandstorms are incredibly unpredictable and you could be here for only a few minutes to a few weeks. You just hope that it’s not the weeks option.

You set your bag down by the door before slowly making your way around the room, fingers tracing along the wall as you look at the different inscriptions and occasional graffiti. You freeze when your fingers connect with a section of wall that feels different. You take a step back, looking over the wall and trying to figure out what’s different.

It looks the same as the rest of the walls, but when your fingers touched it, you could tell there was something different. You put one hand on the section of wall that’s odd and one on the wall beside where it starts to feel different. It takes you a few moments before you realize what the difference means. This is a door. One that’s incredibly well hidden, blending in perfectly with the walls that surround it.

Leaning closer, you begin to look for a way to open it. Deciding to use some of your newly gained experience, you use a bit of the force to assist you and a panel slides open, revealing a crystal similar to the one from the other tomb. You’re leery of activating it, for fear of the lightning happening again, but also that something worse might happen. But the idea of finding something that had been missed sends a thrill through you and you smile at the image in your mind of gifting whatever you find to Namjoon. You wonder if he’d give you a dimpled smile again. You wonder how pissed Jungkook would be to see you hand something new over to Namjoon.

You squeeze your eyes closed as you touch the gem, willing a little of the Force into it. There’s a click and then the crystal is sliding away from your fingers at the door swooshes open. The room revealed is small; you’ve seen closets bigger than this. You step forward, there’s not much to see in here though and you feel dismayed that this has been found already.

There’s a small chest on the wall opposite the door and you pick it up to take it back out into the antechamber so you can keep an eye on the storm. You sit against the wall, watching the wall of sand outside before turning your attention to the chest. Opening reveals that maybe the room hadn’t been discovered because the chest is still full.

You pull the items out one by one; there’s an amulet, a bracelet, a ring, two scrolls, and a small black dagger. You feel a faint thrum of power from each of the items as you turn them over in your hands. You have no idea what any of them do or are for, but you know this seems exactly like something Namjoon would enjoy. At least you hope so. You don’t know a lot about your future master, but he seems the type to like knowledge. You tuck all of the items safely away in your pack, resolving to keep them hidden from the Overseer. He never said you had to turn everything you found in, just the holocron.

Setting aside the chest, you stare out the door for lack of anything else to do. It seems it’s going to be a longer one when one hour then two pass and the storm has yet to lighten up in any way. You eat, pace the perimeter of the room again, look over the artifacts you found. But nothing outside changes. You’re not even sure just how much time has passed, but you know it’s been a while because it’s nearly pitch black out, making the howling of the wind all the more eerie. Deciding that there’s nothing else you can do because of the storm, you pull out the blanket and your fire starter and create a small fire with some of the discarded items strewn about the room. You hunker down beside it, blanket wrapped around yourself. You’re just glad that you’re used to sleeping in uncomfortable positions, sleeping on this floor is nothing and you drift into a light doze soon enough.

Bright sunlight jolts you awake. You blink at the brightness, squinting as you look towards the door to see that the storm has cleared finally. You groan and push yourself up. Your whole body aches, the effects of the fight making themselves known. You pay it little mind, gathering your things and stepping back out into the Valley. It takes you a moment to get your bearings, but you see that the storm didn’t get you too far from the path you need to take. Confident that you can make it back to the Academy soon, you set out once again.

Lucky for you, you do make it back with no more issues and the cool metal interior of the Academy is the most welcoming thing you’ve ever experienced. The shop is shuttered so you limp your way through the room and to the map room. It also appears empty and so you make your way to the Overseer’s office and hear voices. You’re relieved that you won’t have to try to hunt for someone in this massive building.

You enter, realizing that the Overseer is actually talking to Jungkook. Well, it seems more accurate that they’re laughing and talking shit about you. Anger bubbles up in you and you stalk forward, digging the holocron from your pack as you go.

Slamming it on the desk between the two, they both startle, turning to look at you. You stare at Jungkook. “Your holocron, Overseer.”

“There’s no way-”

You wheel on the Overseer, expression hard. “Would you like to go see the corpses?”

He looks taken aback, quickly averting his gaze from yours to carefully take the holocron from you. He turns it over a few times before nodding. He looks apologetically to Jungkook.

“Congratulations. You’ve passed. We can continue on to less time consuming trials.”

You beam, turning back to Jungkook. “How lucky for me, hm?”

The rest of your trials go well and, in just a week, you’re back on the ship, headed back to Dromund Kaas, much to Jungkook’s absolute displeasure. The more of your trials that you passed, the more irritated you could see him getting. You take an incredibly long shower once on the ship, accessing the damage still prevalent on your body. After seeing a medic, you’re not as torn up as you had been. But there’s still some slight bruising and minor scratches you can see.

The shower does wonders to revitalize you after your trials, as does the knowledge that you’re on your way back to see Namjoon and you can present your findings to him, hopefully with Jungkook in the vicinity. You don’t spend any time with Jungkook on this trip, choosing instead to stay in the small bedroom, and he seems putout that he has to come find you so you can both leave.

Once you arrive on Dromund Kaas, Jungkook leads you to the Academy and towards the Artificer in the basement. There, you take great delight in learning and helping craft your two new sabers, happily clipping them to your belt once finished. You make note to come back here to learn more from the Artificer because this seems like an interesting skill to take up.

Jungkook rolls his eyes when he sees you have two sabers strapped to your belt. “Really? Need a backup just in case you fumble?”

You glare at him. “Hey rockhead, plenty of accomplished sith have used two sabers. At least it’s not a double sided one.” You smirk as your gaze drifts to his own saber resting on his hip. “Those aren’t even that useful in combat.”

You walk off before he can respond. You have absolutely no idea where you’re going, but you’ll be damned if you let Jungkook get the last word. If you really need help, you can always just ask someone to point you in the direction of Namjoon’s office. You hear the thud of boots and then Jungkook is beside you, gently directing you towards a lift. It doesn’t take you long to reach the office and Jungkook is quick to knock once reaching the door.

Hearing a soft ‘enter,’ Jungkook presses the door controls and they swish open before you. Namjoon doesn’t look up when you enter, deeply engrossed in reading something on a datapad before him. He only looks up when neither of you say anything for a stretch of time. He smiles and you’re a little dumbfounded to see his dimples again and that they make him look absolutely adorable without a sinister red light shining on his face, words you would definitely never mention to his face.

“Little one, you’ve returned.” His eyes trail slowly across your figure, taking in your new clothes and he pauses at your sabers, grin becoming impossibly wider. “I see you’ve passed. As I knew you would. I assume everything went well then?”

You go to speak but Jungkook cuts you off as he shoulders past you. “It went just great.” He grumbles, moving to stand beside Namjoon’s desk and faces you, a scowl firmly on his face.

You scowl back before turning back to beam at Namjoon. “I did. I seemed to impress a lot of people.” You step up to the desk, lifting your bag to rest on the edge as you quickly dig through it. “I had to make a small detour due to a sandstorm during my trial in the valley. But,” you give a smile of triumph as you pull the dagger, scrolls, and amulet from your bag and present them proudly to Namjoon, “it seemed to work in my favor. I found these.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen as he looks at the items in your hands. Jungkook looks just as surprised to see that you found something you hadn’t mentioned before now. Namjoon takes them from you, carefully inspecting each of them, his face inscrutable.

“What useless garbage.” Jungkook looks up at you as he takes a step, reaching out and roughly grabbing your arm. “How dare you waste Namjoon’s time like this, you ungrateful little-”

“Jungkook, enough. Let her go.” Namjoon cuts in.

Jungkook stares at him in bewilderment, grip tightening around your arm. “You can’t be serious, master. She’s just wasting your time with some useless trash that she thinks will get her into your good graces. You can’t-”

Namjoon’s hands slam on the table as he stands, startling both you and Jungkook. He looks far more imposing when he draws himself up to his full height. “I said that was enough, Jungkook. I believe it is for me to decide whether the items are of worth or not, not yours.” His gaze hardens the longer Jungkook continues to hold your arm until finally he rips his hand away from you. You definitely don’t envy him for being on the receiving end of that look. “You may leave now, Jungkook. You have training in the morning. I will send you the instructions later.”

Jungkook stands there, mouth open for a moment before he snaps it shut with a growl. He throws one last hateful look at you before storming out of the room. Silence descends on the room and you begin to nervously fidget the longer it stretches. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought anything back. It probably wasn’t anything that important.

Namjoon sits back down in his chair with a small sigh. “I’m sorry about him, little one. I don’t know what’s gotten into him, he’s usually much friendlier.” He looks up at you with a smile. “But we can deal with that later. I’d rather focus on your accomplishments right now. Not only did you complete your trials, which are incredibly difficult for even acolytes that have trained for it their whole lives, but you managed to find something extra.” His eyes twinkle with mischief. “And you snuck them out of the Valley rather than turning them in.”

He looks over the items again, much more at ease now that Jungkook has left. “Where did you find them?”

“I’m not sure. The tomb looked more recent than the one I went into for my trial and it seemed like whatever of importance was there had already been taken. I took shelter there from a sandstorm and while waiting I found a secret door and these were behind it in a plain chest.”

He purses his lips, carefully inspecting each of the items before setting them down on his desk. “I’ll have to take some time to carefully go over these, but they certainly seem like they’ll be fascinating to study. I’m quite proud.”

You feel yourself flush at the praise.

He stands and motions for you to follow as he leaves his office. “Now, I’ve gotten a place set up for you, it’s next to Jungkook’s and in the same building as mine, just on a lower floor. I can take you there so that you can get settled in before we start on your training in earnest. But first,” he grins as he steps out of the academy, arm wrapping around your shoulders. “I believe we should go celebrate such an accomplishment, don’t you think?”

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bedlamsbard · 3 years

Text

Some new concept writing! Backbone base ‘verse, as per usual for me; this one is a bit more personal than I usually go.

About 6.4K below the break.

While I don’t generally do content advisories, please note that this contains discussion of fairly severe (unnamed) depression and anxiety.

Hera cried herself to sleep the night before the Inquisitor arrived.

She was sick to her stomach, trying to fight down how betrayed she felt as well as her own terror. Agent Beneke had tried to comm her in the morning, but Hera had ignored her beeping comlink, knowing that she was too upset to answer in any way that wouldn’t result in a lecture. Five years of careful training and Imperial service had gone out the window; Hera was so frightened that all she could do was weep, sitting on the floor in the corner of her cabin furthest from the hatch with her face in her hands. She knew very well that if she hadn’t been on Naboo, she might have done something drastic, but she couldn’t leave Naboo, not from right under the ISB’s nose, so all she could do was sit on the floor and cry and hope that she would have enough notice to wash her face before the Inquisitor arrived. She didn’t dare put on any makeup to hide her swollen eyes because of the likelihood she would immediately cry it off again.

She knew that she was upsetting Chopper, who had never seen her this miserable before. Every time she emerged from her cabin he came up to her with a handkerchief or a wet cloth or a hot drink. Hera took them, trying to smile for his sake if not her own, but the second time he had brought her a drink her hands had been shaking so badly that she had dropped the cup and shattered it.

She thought about leaving.

She didn’t know how to explain to Chopper what she was so frightened of, not when it was something that would never affect a droid. She had managed not to cry in front of Agent Beneke, just barely, but she had spent so much effort fighting it that he hadn’t understood her the first time she had said, “I’m not a whore,” that she had had to repeat herself.

“You are whatever the ISB says you are,” he had told her. “If the Inquisitor wants you to warm his bed, then you will. Besides, it may be for the best, even if it is an Inquisitor. You know I’ve been worried about your health. Celibacy isn’t good for Twi’leks.”

Only her training had kept Hera from just walking out of his office. She had sat in front of his desk, barely hearing anything else Beneke said, until he finally released her. Hera had gone back to the Ghost and barely made it to the refresher before she threw up. The fact that she was being reassigned had barely registered with her.

That had been three days ago.

She raised her head as Chopper tapped tentatively on the door, wiping her wrist across her swollen eyes. “What is it?”

As he responded, she pushed herself wearily upright, swaying and catching herself on the wall – she had barely eaten anything the past few days and it had left her dizzy. She found the most recent wet cloth Chopper had brought her, which was still a little damp, and wiped her face with it, then found her uniform jacket and put it on, trying not to look at herself in the mirror. She knew that she probably looked sloppy and unprofessional and that ISB whites showed every stain; normally she would have cared, hoping that her every aspect of her appearance would outweigh her species, but apparently that didn’t matter anymore.

She left her cabin shaking so badly that her hands slipped on the ladder from the cockpit to the hold. Hera caught herself just in time, but for a bare instant she couldn’t let herself care. She was aware that unless she fell very badly she wouldn’t break her neck; she might break an arm or a leg, which would at least have the advantage of making her unattractive if that was what the Inquisitor was interested in. Hera was too proud to fall on her own ship, though, and she finished climbing down without further incident.

She hesitated in front of the hatch for what felt like a long time, her hand hovering over the control. Finally she touched it, shutting her eyes briefly as the hatch and ramp lowered.

The figure standing outside was humanoid, his dark clothes making his silhouette briefly indistinct in the gloom of the hangar. When Hera went hesitantly down the ramp, trying not to be too obvious about the fact she was dragging her feet, she saw that he was human after all, dark-haired and wary-eyed. He might have been handsome; Hera didn’t look at his face for long enough to decide. He had enough height on her that she would have to make an effort to do so, and she didn’t want to.

“I’m Agent Syndulla,” she said, after they had both regarded each other silently for a few moments. She was proud of the fact that her voice didn’t shake, but wasn’t certain of her ability to keep it from doing so if she had to say much more.

“I’m the Inquisitor.” The human’s voice was quiet, a little hesitant, as if he wasn’t used to speaking much.

Hera waited for him to say something else; when he didn’t, she said, “I’ll show you to your cabin,” and stepped back, unwilling to turn her back on him.

The Inquisitor picked up the bag at his feet and followed her into the Ghost. He moved very quietly for a big man, making Hera’s lekku prickle with unease. A sound from above made her look up, spotting Chopper peering down from the cockpit hatch. The sight of him made her feel a little better as she gestured upwards, saying, “That’s Chopper.”

The Inquisitor followed her gaze and said gravely, “Hello.”

Chopper made a rude sound but didn’t withdraw. Hera glanced sideways at the Inquisitor to see how he took the insult, but he didn’t say anything, just glanced around the Ghost’s hold. There were a few new cases of equipment that had been delivered over the past three days, as well as a new speeder bike – presumably for the Inquisitor, since Hera already had one that she had modified to her preferences.

“This way,” Hera said. She bit her lip as she turned from him to climb up the ladder, unable to shake her terrified notion that he was going to grab her right then and there. He didn’t, though, just waited for her to get most of the way up to the cockpit before he slung his bag over his shoulder and followed her. Chopper moved back from the hatch so that Hera could pull herself up, then resumed his position to glare at the Inquisitor as the human put his head up. Hera was so tightly wound that the resulting face-off startled a brief, hysterical giggle out of her, which made the Inquisitor glance at her and offer something that might have been construed as a smile in different circumstances. Chopper responded by extending his electropod threateningly.

“Chop,” Hera said, since although she appreciated the thought, technically the Inquisitor hadn’t actually done anything yet.

Chopper swiveled his dome to regard her balefully, then sparked his prod again and rolled back enough that the Inquisitor could finish climbing into the cockpit.

“I haven’t seen a C1 unit in a while,” the Inquisitor said thoughtfully.

Chopper made an aggravated noise. Hera put a hand on his dome to push him back, stepping in front of him in case the Inquisitor decided to take offense and use the lightsaber hanging on his hip. All he did was arch one eyebrow at her and shift the bag across his shoulder.

“He’s not an antique,” Hera said defensively. “He’s just as good as an R-series –”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t!” the Inquisitor said. “I just haven’t seen one recently.” He looked inquisitively at her.

Hera bit her lip, embarrassed at her outburst, and released Chopper as she moved towards the door at the back of the cockpit. She veered wide around the Inquisitor as she did so, not thinking about the action until it had already happened. He didn’t remark on it, though, just watched her.

Her lekku were prickling with nerves as she led him into the corridor, showing him to the cabin across from hers. If he could read lekku, he would be able to tell from the agitated way the tips were flicking back and forth that she was frightened of him, but she didn’t expect that it meant anything to him; most humans had no idea that lekku conveyed Twi’lek emotions, and sometimes added an element to speech. Hera knew that after five years in the Imperial service her signals were wildly all over the place and were so confusing to other Twi’leks that it made most of them distrust her, but a human shouldn’t be able to tell. She couldn’t remember if the rumors about Inquisitors being able to read minds were true or not.

As much as she hated having him across from her, there was nowhere else she could put him. Even if she had been willing to share a wall with him, the cabin next to hers had been turned into an office and she hadn’t thought about moving her equipment out of it until it was too late; the cabin catty-corner to hers was missing both mattresses. She had been too brain-fogged from lack of sleep and the fact that she had mostly stopped eating to consider the option of moving the one from the remaining cabin into the other room until she was showing him into it now.

He put his bag down carefully on the floor by the bunk, took in the small, neat cabin with a glance – Hera hadn’t made up the bed, but she had found the spare sheets and a pillow and brought them in – then turned back to her.

Hera let go of her hope that he would be content to just stay in his cabin when they weren’t in the field and led him on a quick tour of the rest of the Ghost, from the Phantom to the engine room. He followed her and Chopper followed him, grumbling the whole time and occasionally sparking his shockprod. She didn’t show him the smuggler’s compartments she had discovered a few months ago, but as they walked over them she saw his face change for an instant and knew that he had realized they were there.

“Agent Beneke said you would have our next assignment,” Hera said awkwardly once they were back up in the common room. She was standing stiffly as far away from him as she thought was polite, her hands clamped together behind her back. He hadn’t made any attempt to touch her, but nothing she could do could choke down her fear that he might try. And probably succeed. She was a good fighter, but he was an Inquisitor.

“Agent Beneke?” he said in his soft voice. Hera couldn’t decide what his accent was, possibly because he hadn’t said much and possibly because he didn’t seem certain himself. Some of his intonation was characteristic of the Outer Rim, but every now and then a word had come out with such a strong upper class Coruscanti accent that it made Hera’s back teeth ache.

“My handler – my supervisor at the ISB,” she clarified.

“Oh. Yes, I’ve got it.” He blinked at her for a moment, then seemed to realize that she meant that she wanted him to tell her about it. Maybe Inquisitors couldn’t read minds after all, though Hera didn’t think this was much proof of that. “We’re going to Barzhun – in the Colonies.”

Hera had never heard of the system before. “What’s there?”

He grimaced. “A Jedi temple.”

She looked at him in surprise. “I thought the Jedi were all dead.”

Something passed over his face that she couldn’t read, not that she had ever been particularly good at reading human facial expressions anyway; even in the Empire too many of them came from different worlds with different body languages. “They are,” he said.

“Why are we going?” Hera said eventually, when he didn’t proffer any further information. She didn’t particularly want to talk to him – she wanted to go back to her cabin so that she could recover from her attack of nerves – but he didn’t seem to be giving her a choice.

He looked startled that she had to ask, then apparently ran a mental replay of their previous conversation and realized he hadn’t said. “The temple there was cleared years ago – it was an old outpost temple that was shut down during the High Republic, and the Inquisition went through soon after the –” He stumbled over the words for an instant, then seemed to decide to let her fill in the conclusion of the sentence and went on, “– but recently a few old artifacts have been showing up for sale – antique auctions, the black market, that sort of thing.”

“Jedi artifacts are interdicted,” Hera said.

He nodded. “We’re to investigate, find out where the artifacts are coming from, and shut down the trade. And anything else we deem necessary at the time.”

Hera considered the weariness in his pale eyes – she met them for only an instant before she jerked her gaze away – and decided that it wasn’t quite the makework it sounded like. “All right,” she said. “We’re fueled and stocked up. I’ll set a course for Barzhun, if there isn’t anything else you need to do on Naboo.”

He shook his head.

“I’d like whatever files you have on the assignment,” Hera went on. “You can transmit them to me or give them to me on a datacard and I’ll copy them to my datapad, whichever is more convenient for you.”

He nodded.

Hera hesitated, trying to think despite how tired she was. She was suddenly almost so tired that for a moment she saw the Inquisitor as nothing more than a wary, hurt man not more than a year or two older than she was, with the scars on his face and the careful way he moved indicative of something she didn’t like to think about. Then she blinked and he was the Inquisitor again, an unknown, dangerous quantity, with Agent Beneke’s words ringing in her mind.

“All right,” she said again, and stepped backwards towards the door leading to the cockpit. She hadn’t closed the hatch after he had come in; she would have to do that before they took off. Doing so would mean she would be trapped on the Ghost with him, a thought that made her shudder.

“Agent Syndulla,” he said. When she looked at him, she saw for an instant the weary, wary young man with the scarred face, not the Inquisitor. “You don’t have to – I won’t hurt you. I try not to hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

Hera had absolutely no idea what an Inquisitor would think of as hurting someone and had the feeling that she would find out very soon. She just said, “Please send me the files,” and left the room.

She made it to the cockpit with Chopper on her heels and let the door slide shut behind her, then locked it for good measure. There was another way to get to the cockpit from the common room, but it involved going through the engine room and hold, and she hadn’t gotten the impression the Inquisitor had any interest in following her. Still, she looked at the ladder and open hatch and shuddered, bending over with her hands braced against her knees as she tried to get her ragged breathing under control.

He hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t even said anything beyond that last comment, and he had been far more polite to both her and Chopper than most of her colleagues at the ISB had ever been. But he was still an Inquisitor, and beyond that he was on her ship. Hera had had passengers before once or twice, the odd ISB agent she had ferried from one place to another, but she had never even had detainees onboard. And now this Inquisitor was here for who knew how long and Hera’s safe haven, a minor miracle after months in prison and then years in the Imperial Academy, wasn’t anymore. Her home wasn’t safe anymore and if the Inquisitor did hurt her, then it would be with the ISB’s blessing.

Chopper rolled up beside her and crooned a question, patting her hip soothingly with one of his manipulators.

“No – no, I’m all right,” Hera said shakily. “I’m all right.” She knelt down and hugged him, an awkward, uncomfortable proposition at the best of times, but at just this moment she wanted to. She tipped her head down against his dome, trying to control her trembling and unable to do so.

The Inquisitor could hurt her, regardless of what he had said. For all Hera know, what she considered being hurt and what he considered hurting someone could be two entirely different things. She already knew Agent Beneke wouldn’t care, not after what he had said the last time they had talked. He would probably be thrilled.

Chopper patted her shoulder.

“I’m all right,” Hera said, though she couldn’t make herself believe the words and suspected that Chopper knew her well enough that he wouldn’t take her words at face value the way most droids would. “It will be all right.”

She hugged him again, then forced herself to release him, though she stayed kneeling, suddenly too tired to get up. “Can you plot a course to Barzhun?” she asked him. “Then file the flight plan with the Bureau.”

She should have done that herself, but at the moment the effort seemed too much to bear. Besides, she didn’t want to run the risk that Agent Beneke would try to talk to her again.

Chopper made a sound of agreement.

Hera reached out and took his dome between both hands, forcing him to look at her. “And don’t mess with him,” she told Chopper firmly. “He’s an Inquisitor. He carries a lightsaber. He could scrap you without a second thought and I probably wouldn’t be able to put you back together again, do you understand that? Don’t mess with him.”

There was a long moment of silence, then Chopper reluctantly agreed.

“Good,” Hera said. She released him and sat back on her heels, trying to work up the energy to get up and close the Ghost’s main hatch. Eventually she just knee-crawled over to the ladder since it wasn’t far away anyway, getting smutches all over her white trousers, but she would be back in her grays as soon as they were in the field anyway.

She made it down to the hold and paused, listening for the sound of the Inquisitor’s steps above her, but couldn’t make them out. He could have just been sitting in one spot, she reluctantly admitted to herself, but she didn’t like the idea that he was up there somewhere, doing who knew what.

Hera went down to the edge of the ramp and stood there for a few minutes, looking around at the dark, quiet hangar. The ISB hangars were spread around Theed, since there wasn’t enough space at ISB HQ to house all of the various ISB vessels. This one was nearly empty except for the Ghost; there was another small freighter housed in a hangar bay on the other side of the building, and a hunter-killer had left only the previous week. Although many ISB agents worked with the full panoply of the Empire, often in concert with other branches of the Imperial service, Hera was hardly unusual in flying a civilian vessel or working solo. Or she had been working solo, at least.

She went outside to pace briefly around the Ghost, less because she thought that there might be anything wrong with her ship than because she wanted to not be on it just now. Normally being dirtside made her far more nervous than being in space, even while being shot at, but when she went inside again the Inquisitor would be there, and it wouldn’t be safe anymore. Not that Hera was under any kind of illusion about anywhere being safe, but up until now the Ghost had always been the one thing she could pretend was under her control. She knew that there were ISB failsafes built into the hyperdrive and engines, as well as at least some surveillance, but that was just part of working for the Empire. Chopper had had them too, but whoever had installed the controls didn’t seem to have realized how eccentric his rewiring and programming had been, since Hera had mostly been making it up as she went along when she had fixed him all those years ago. He had shed the spyware not long after they had been reunited and let Hera know exactly how he felt about it as he did so.

She finished her circuit of the Ghost and stood outside, looking up at the cockpit. Chopper must have spotted her, because he had rolled up to the front of the viewport and was peering down at her in concern. Hera gave him a half-hearted wave, took a deep breath, and went back up the ramp into the Ghost. She closed the hatch behind her, braced herself again, and the went up the ladder to join Chopper in the cockpit.

“Do you have that course to Barzhun plotted?” she asked, then brought it up on the holoprojector after he replied in the affirmative. The system was more obscure than she had expected, off the main hyper-routes; it would take them the better part or more of a standard rotation to reach it, even at the Ghost’s speed. That meant she would spend a night on the Ghost with the Inquisitor, whether they left now or waited until morning, Naboo time. Hera didn’t see a point in waiting; it just gave Agent Beneke more opportunity to try and catch her.

“All right. Plug it into the navicomputer and let’s be on our way.” She settled into the pilot’s seat and started the Ghost’s preflight check, feeling the engines rumble to life beneath her feet. She probably should have gone back to let the Inquisitor know they were leaving, but presumably he was smart enough to figure it out.

For the first time in her life she winced as she touched the control yoke. She loved her ship and she loved flying, but once she left Naboo she would be alone in the cold black of space with no one to turn to. Not that she ever really expected much help from the ISB – she had never bothered filing a complaint when she had been at the Academy, knowing that she would have been ignored at best and punished at worst – but having the option had been something, at least. Now she wouldn’t even have that.

Light filtered down into the shadowed hangar outside the viewport as the doors above them slid open, like a new dawn breaking. Hera watched the light spread through the otherwise empty chamber, waiting for the alert that would tell her when she had enough clearance to take off without hitting the doors. She tried and failed to make herself feel at least a little of the calm she usually felt when she was in the pilot’s seat of the Ghost, when she had the ship at her fingertips and – if only in theory – the galaxy spread out before her, but all she could feel was dread.

She stayed in the cockpit long after they had made the jump to hyperspace, staring at the lights outside the viewport until her eyes ached, then curling up in the pilot’s chair. The Inquisitor had sent the mission files to the ship’s computer, so she had them to hand to read if she wanted, but she didn’t want to. Normally she would have left the cockpit as soon as they went to hyperspace to make herself a hot drink and review the mission files; normally she would have been alone onboard except for Chopper.

Eventually the need to use the refresher got to her. Hera got up reluctantly, wincing as cramped muscles twinged, and gestured Chopper to stay where he was in case something happened while they were in hyperspace, visions of purrgil collisions dancing in her head. She had heard the Inquisitor’s cabin door open and shut sometime earlier and was fairly certain that he was still inside, a prospect that made her extremely nervous, but as long as he stayed there –

She wished she had any idea what he was going to do.

Since she was up anyway and because she knew Chopper would yell at her about it if she didn’t eat, she went into the galley. Hera had no appetite and hadn’t had any since the meeting with Agent Beneke; she found herself staring blankly at her cupboards and coldbox, moving between one and the other as if by sheer force of repetition she would finally find something that appealed to her. Nothing did, nor in her current mood could she justify the meiloorun she had bought before her new orders had come in, even though after three days in her coldbox she knew the flavor would be starting to go. But she had to eat something, since she was already a little shaky from lack of food and while that was more or less all right as long as she was sitting on the Ghost, it would lead to slowed reflexes in the field.

She finally picked up the jogan fruit sitting next to the meiloorun and cut it into small, precise squares, trying not to twitch every time she thought she heard something that could have been the Inquisitor leaving his cabin. She ate the jogan with her back to the counter, forcing herself not to bolt it and flee, since at this stage doing so would probably result in her throwing it right back up. She was trying to decide if, having eaten most of the jogan, she wanted to try eating something else or if that would be a failed endeavor when the door to the galley slid open.

Hera froze, her hands clenching on the bowl and fork she was holding. She hadn’t heard the Inquisitor’s approach at all, except there he was. He stayed by the door but moved to the side so that he wasn’t standing directly in front of it, looking self-conscious about the way Hera had flinched. Maybe. She didn’t want to trust her impressions of the Inquisitor’s expressions or body language yet, not when she had nothing to compare him to except other members of the service and the only other Inquisitor she had met.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Hera just stared at him.

The silence stretched out between them, unnerving in its emptiness; Hera cast wildly around for something to say when the Inquisitor didn’t break it, and finally said, “We should be arriving at Barzhun in about fifteen hours. It’s – it’s not on any of the major hyper-routes, which is why it’s taking so long.”

“All right,” he said, nodding.

Hera bit back her urge to flee and said, “We can go over the files and make a plan closer to our arrival time. I don’t know what kind of field experience you have –”

“Some,” he said, hesitating briefly before he added, “Mostly not on this sort of op.”

Hera mentally translated that as mostly I spent my time killing people for the Empire, which might or might not be accurate.

The Inquisitor bit his lip, then admitted, “One of the reasons I got this assignment is because none of the others work well with the regular service.”

“Do you?” Hera blurted out.

“I’m human and I don’t kill anyone who looks at me sideways,” he said. “Presumably at least one of those helps.”

“What did they tell you about me?” Hera said quickly, before she lost her nerve.

He raised his eyebrows. “Nothing.”

Hera lowered her gaze, trying to decide if she could take him at his word. She finally just said, “You can eat anything in here. Um, except not the meiloorun. Please.”

“All right,” he said again.

Hera looked down at her remaining two bites of jogan. She had no appetite left, but both the Clone Wars and prison had instilled in her a horror of wasting food, so even though she hated eating in front of anyone else, she choked them down quickly and then turned – lekku prickling – to put the bowl in the sink. She should have washed it as well as her fork and the knife she had used to cut up the jogan, but she couldn’t bear having her back to the Inquisitor for that long, even if it made him think she was a slob.

He was still watching her when she turned back.

“Good night,” Hera managed to say, and then forced herself to walk past him to the door. He stepped back so that he wasn’t in arm’s reach of her as she did so, a kind of minute care that somehow made Hera even more nervous than his not moving would have.

She made it to the corridor leading to the cockpit and had to stop, shuddering. She wanted so badly to be alone on the Ghost again, for the Inquisitor to not be there, but that wasn’t an option and might never be again.

When she had mostly stopped shaking, she went into the cockpit to check on Chopper and the ship’s progress. There wasn’t much to see; once they were in hyperspace, there wouldn’t be short of some major disaster that no one could predict. The problem, as far as Hera was concerned at the moment, was that such disasters had occurred in the past; at the moment, the fact that she couldn’t do anything to prevent them was foremost in her mind.

Well, not foremost. The Inquisitor was there too, but thinking about the sudden appearance of purrgil or hyperspace wreckage or the mines pirates sometimes used was preferable to thinking about him, even if it didn’t make Hera any more comfortable. She briefly wondered if being knocked out of hyperspace by a mine would discomfit the Inquisitor at all, but knew that she didn’t really want to find out if she could at all avoid it. Even if pirates might get more than they bargained for if they attacked the Ghost, Hera was well aware of what happened to Twi’lek women in their hands.

She sat with Chopper for a few minutes, reassuring herself with the droid’s presence, before she finally made herself get up. “Stay here,” she told Chopper as he made to follow her. “No matter what you hear.”

He grumbled a protest.

Hera grabbed his dome and forced him to look at her. “Stay here,” she told him, and waited for him to respond in the affirmative before she released him. She didn’t bother to tell him that she would be all right this time, just hugged him again before she went to her cabin.

She locked her door and stood there for what felt like a long time, then slowly began to remove her white uniform. She was so tired that she was shaking; she had spent the past three days sleeping very badly when she slept at all, and knew that with an op on the horizon she had to at least make an attempt at it or she would badly regret it. But she hated the idea of being unclothed while the Inquisitor was here, the same way she had hated it back when she had been in the Academy. She changed into her night clothes as quickly as she could, found her grays and put them out to change into whenever she woke up – assuming she could sleep at all, which she wasn’t certain of at the moment – and then climbed up the ladder to sit on the edge of her bed, holding her blaster between her hands. She finally put it beneath the pile of pillows she slept with, where she could have her hand on it at a moment’s notice. Hera didn’t bother turning the light off, just turned it down as low as it would go; she knew that she wouldn’t be able to sleep in the dark. She slid between her sheets and pulled one of her smaller pillows against herself, holding onto it for all she was worth, and cried herself to sleep.

Hera slept badly, waking up at irregular intervals throughout the night, with scattered fragments of vivid dreams blurring the distinction between waking and sleeping. None of it seemed to form any kind of coherent narrative, though she knew the Inquisitor had featured at some point. So had the colony at Zardossa Stix, the caves on Ryloth where they had taken shelter during the Clone Wars, the Spire on Stygeon Prime, and the usual awful morass of Hera’s memories of the Imperial Academy on Serenno and the ISB Academy on Naboo. She woke up uncertain where she was, what year it was, and how old she was, staring up at the ceiling above her until its nearness finally told her she was on the Ghost.

Hera flung an arm over her eyes, wincing as sore muscles twinged. She must have spent the night so tense she felt like she had been beaten with sticks. When she started to sit up, pain stabbed up her neck behind her right ear and Hera slumped back down; she’d slept wrong at some point in her restless tossing and turning.

The Inquisitor hadn’t tried to come in.

She waited until the stabbing pain behind her right ear eased and then got up, climbing wearily down the ladder. It took her about three times as long as usual to get dressed; she picked up one of the long strips of leather she used to wrap her lekku and just stared at it, but the idea of additional pressure on her lekku was unbearable at the moment. Even her cap felt like it was squeezing her skull, and after a moment, reluctantly, Hera pulled it off again, since she knew that wearing it right now would probably trigger a headache. As much as she hated to appear bareheaded in front of anyone, especially a human, especially a man, right now she thought she had to risk it.

She didn’t bother to put her boots on, just went out into the corridor in stocking feet. The ship was very quiet; she couldn’t tell if the Inquisitor was asleep in his cabin or if he was in one of the other rooms. Hera went into the refresher and got undressed again, this time to shower; the hot water helped a little but not as much as she had been hoping. She wanted to go back to bed and sleep for a week; going by the chrono she could have easily gotten a few more hours before they were anywhere near Barzhun and still had enough time to read the files. She was up already, though, for better or worse.

She left the refresher to go to the cockpit and check on Chopper, who made a worried enquiry as she stepped into the cockpit. Hera sank into the nearest chair, wincing as the movement jarred her stiff neck, and absently checked their progress before she said, “No, Chop, I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep well.”

She wished that sleeping was the Twi’lek equivalent of powering down, but unfortunately it wasn’t that simple.

He made another worried sound, then rolled out of the cockpit, leaving her alone. Hera had a pretty good idea where he was going, so didn’t protest him leaving while they were still in hyperspace. Normally she wouldn’t have cared; at the moment she couldn’t shake the idea that something terrible would happen if neither of them was in the cockpit.

She was more than half-asleep again as Chopper came back bearing a steaming mug. Hera took it from him, holding it with both hands so that she didn’t drop it the way she had one of his previous offerings, and inhaled the fragrant steam to realize it was what she still called sleepy tea, rather than the caf she had expected. Twi’leks across the galaxy drank it in the evenings, from curiates like the Syndullas to members of the diaspora whose families had left Ryloth ten generations earlier. Hera had found it in a market a few months earlier and had bought a packet, feeling as if she was betraying the Empire by doing so, and had started crying the first time she had made a cup.

Now she tried to hand it back to Chopper. “No, I need to stay up –”

He pushed the mug back at her, grumbling a response.

Hera checked the chrono again and grimaced, because technically he was right; she had enough time before they arrived to both sleep for a few more hours and read the mission files, as long as she didn’t oversleep. And she did badly need the sleep. But the Inquisitor –

“Where is he?” she asked Chopper warily.

Since there was only one other being on the Ghost, he didn’t have to ask who she meant, just told her that the Inquisitor was in his cabin, presumably asleep.

Hera looked down at the tea in her hands. “You’re probably right,” she admitted eventually. She drank a little of the tea, careful not to burn her tongue, and sighed in satisfaction. It didn’t always make her feel better – nothing could do so reliably – but if nothing else it was at least warm, satisfying, and familiar. She sat in the cockpit and drank the rest of her tea, then took the mug into the galley and washed it – the Inquisitor had eaten, she saw, and washed his plates and what she had left behind – then went back to bed. She locked the door behind her.

#cut scenes and concept writing #reluctant roommates au tag

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elenamiria · 4 years

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Contentment

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader The morning after spending the night together the two of you talk until you have to sneak away to get ready for the celebration on Naboo. Five years later you and Anakin sneak away to a speeder race and get caught upon returning by Obi-Wan.

Part 4 of my Obi-Wan series (which is still unnamed because I’m a mess)

Parts 1,2,3: Beating the Heat*(2.67k) - Dessert*(3.8k) - The Naboo Sun* (7.89k) Masterlist here Word count: 4.7k Warnings: Fluff, slight angst, smut - oral (m receiving, rough), dom obi, mild exhibitionism, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (fem!reader), praise kink Here we go again! I hope you all enjoy this chapter of whatever this fic ends up being called (I’m thinking pleasing heat but idk is that stupid, who knows.) Let me know if you want to be added or taken off of my tag list (for this work or all works) Tags: @fishswimbetterunderwater @blxwjobsforclones @lynnie51 @a-dorin

After your confessions to each other you had slipped back under the covers, intent on staying with each other for as long as possible. Slipping into a comfortable silence the two of you basked in each other’s presence content to watch the sun slowly cast its golden light in the room. Once the sun started to fully rise you knew you had to sneak back to your room before any of the council were out and about. Regretfully you started to pull away from Obi-Wan only for him to tighten his grip on you and haul you back into his lap with a playful laugh. You giggled and turned to smile up at him, he had an amused smile on his face that quickly turned to concern as you gasped and shot back up. “Obi-Wan! I have to tell you something”

Once you noticed his face you softly grasped his hand and gave him a soft smile, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. But I believe we’ve developed a force bond.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened for just a second before furrowing his brow in thought, “Darling, what makes you think that?”

You took a deep breath before speaking, choosing your words very carefully not wanting to revive any negative feelings for Obi-Wan.

“When I was back on Coruscant and you were here on Naboo yesterday, I felt these emotions - strong emotions. They weren’t mine.”

You trailed off and Obi-Wan nodded in recognition, then something crossed over his face and he looked down. Voice low he asked, “So you know?”

You paused for a moment and whispered his name questioningly, unsure what he was referring to. When you received no response you reached across the gap between you to rest a hand on his shoulder, “I know what Obi?”

He looked at you, face filled with shame, “You know that I shouldn’t be a Knight!”

Confusion filled your face at his words and you thought back to the emotions you were feeling the day before. Your eyes widened as you looked back at Obi-Wan, who was looking back at the sheets again and you once again called out his name softly. He didn’t respond apart from his hand reaching to nervously tug on the padawan braid which was now absent and instead of letting it drop you moved your hand off his shoulder to weave your fingers together.

“Obi-Wan, I know what you felt that night and it’s nothing to be ashamed about. You witnessed something terrible happen to someone you loved very much so of course you would be angry. It’s only natural”

Obi turned back towards you, eyes hard as he muttered “Yes well I let that anger fuel me and it was more than that. If what you’re saying is true then you know I let hate drive me, I wanted to kill him. I think you know as well as I do that those emotions are not the Jedi way.”

Sadness had once again filled his eyes and you felt a small frown cover your face before you spoke again.

“My love, even though you felt those things that doesn’t make you any less of a Jedi. Even though we’re always cautioned about those as a path to the dark side and you used your feelings to defend yourself. Plus you are still a Jedi, you didn’t succumb to the darkness. You are not like the Sith, you know that you can still have darker emotions and be a great Jedi. Look at my master, he channeled those negative emotions into his fighting - you did the same thing.”

Slowly the cloud looming over Obi-Wan’s countenance lifted and he looked at you, biting his lip. He looked deep in thought and you remained quiet to allow him time to process your words. Finally he nodded and looking to you once more he offered a small smile. Leaning forward you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and gave him a smile back.

“No one is more deserving to become a knight than you, not only did you defeat a Sith but you did it while using your emotions and you haven’t held on to them, you let them go. That’s a lesson so many of us are still trying to learn, Master Jinn would be very proud of you. Now, no more being down on yourself, Obi! We’ve got to get ready for the celebration and I’ve got to sneak out of here before any of the council are up.”

At this Obi-Wan laughed and followed you up off the bed. You fixed your nightgown so it looked slightly less rumpled and sighed deeply hoping no one was wandering the halls. Just before you left Obi lightly grasped your arms and pulled you into a chaste kiss. Breaking apart he whispered to you, “Thank you, Darling. I truly mean it, you’ve always been there for me and you always know just what to say - something I admire greatly. I’ll meet you when we have to go down for the parade.”

Stroking his cheek fondly you two shared another soft kiss before you snuck into the hallway. Returning back to your room was thankfully very easy as it was still early and it appeared no one had ventured from their room yet. Stifling a small yawn you decided you could chance a small nap and still have time to get ready, plus it would be best if your bed looked slept in. Though the beds were on Naboo were wonderfully comfortable you couldn’t help but think you would fall asleep so much easier in Obi-Wan Kenobi’s embrace”

Pulling your boots on and zipping them you stood back up and looked over your appearance before grabbing your robe and opening the door. When you walked into the hallway you heard voices coming from Anakin’s room, door wide open. You wandered into the room and the sight you were met with caused an affectionate look to cross your face. Obi-Wan was just finishing up shaving Anakin’s head, except for what would become his padawan braid, and the young boy was happily chatting away. Once he finished Obi-Wan brushed off Anakin’s back and shoulders to get rid of any remaining hair and he then passed the boy a folded tunic with the soft instruction to go put it on. Anakin scampered off to the bedroom you made yourself known. Stepping forward you moved to help Obi-Wan clean up the mess with a small chuckle of, “Well that has to be one of the sweetest things I’ve seen in a long time.”

Obi smiled up at you and nodded in agreement. He was about to say something in return when a small voice called out his name and Anakin stumbled out of the bedroom, tunic in disarray. You had to stop yourself from laughing at the poor boy who managed to get his arm stuck in one of the many loops of fabric on the tunic. Obi-Wan immediately went to help him and kind hands gently guided Anakin’s arms out of the tangle he had gotten in. You felt your heart swell at Obi-Wan’s gentle words and actions, if only the order allowed you to have children Obi-Wan would be a great father. He taught Anakin which pieces of fabric laid just so and helped him secure his belt into place before he stood up and backed away to make sure everything was indeed in place. Nodded to himself he then bent down again to quickly braid Anakin’s hair, officially marking him as a padawan. The moment was so sweet and you couldn’t help but grin so wide it hurt your face, you had never felt more at home than you did now. The moment was interrupted by a knock on the wall next to the open door and your masters voice echoing out that it was time to go to the celebration. At this Obi-Wan’s face dropped slightly in anxiousness. You were going to wait to ask him what was wrong on the way to the steps of the palace but Anakin beat you to it with a simple question of “What’s wrong Master Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan smiled and offered the boy, “Im just a bit nervous is all. I guess I’m still a little shaken by everything that happened.”

Anakin nodded sagely in a move that made him seem much older than he was before he responded, echoing your words to him from the previous day, “Don’t worry, I’ll be there for you no matter what!”

You chimed in with, “Yeah me too.”

And Anakin as well as Obi-Wan shot you big smiles. Obi-Wan rose to walk with Anakin and you to the door as he replied, “I feel much better knowing I’ve got both of you by my side, thank you my young padawan.”

As Anakin’s smile grew prideful it put some pep in his step and he was soon walking ahead of you and Obi-Wan. With a small grin you turned to Obi-Wan, “He’s right you know. You’ll always have us, no matter what.”

Obi hesitated for a moment, looking down, but when he looked back up you could tell he believed your words and the first truly brilliant grin you had seen since arriving to Naboo covered his face.

5 years later

“Shhh, Anakin! We’ll get caught by Obi-Wan, I don’t know how but I’m sure he’ll find us”

The 14 year old had to stifle a laugh as the two of you snuck back into the Jedi temple. You had caught Anakin sneaking out earlier to go into the city for a speeder race (a rather illegal one at that) and knowing it would be impossible to stop him you instead went with him. In the years since Anakin had come to the temple it was clear how headstrong the boy was and he had definitely mastered the art of sneaking out of the temple. You couldn’t count the amount of times Obi-Wan had gone searching for Ani in the depths of Coruscant to drag him back to the temple. You found it rather amusing that Obi probably knew just as much about underground racing in Coruscant as Anakin did. Your thoughts were interrupted by Anakin bursting in excitement as he recalled one of the more thrilling parts of the race, it was clear he was replaying the whole event over again in his head. This time it was you stifling a laugh as once again you hushed him, “I’m serious Ani, Obi-Wan will definitely find out-”

“Find out what exactly?”

At the amused voice echoing in the near empty hallways you and Anakin froze. Anakin’s eyes grew comically large and you bit your lip to keep from laughing at your hopeless situation. Anakin was the first to turn around and you followed shortly. Obi-Wan was lounging against one of the large pillars of the hallway, some Jedi you were for not even noticing him, his face was fixed in a stern expression but you caught the gleam of amusement in his eye. Anakin started to mumble out an apology before you stepped in.

“It’s my fault we were out, Anakin wanted to go and instead of sending him back to his room I accompanied him into the city.”

You flashed Anakin a small smile as his whole body relaxed slightly. There’s was a pause were Obi-Wan stared at you narrowing his eyes slightly before you added, “I am sorry...Master”

At the last word a smirk curled over your lips knowing how it affected Obi-Wan when you called him that and indeed you caught the way his eyes darkened, body tensing slightly. His gaze slid to Anakin before he stood straight up with a sigh of, “Very well, why don’t you retire for the night my padawan and I’ll see you in the morning for training.”

Anakin gave you a thankful glance before hurrying off towards his quarters. Once his disappeared from sight you turned back towards Obi-Wan who motioned you towards him and you closed the distance between you two. You were dangerously close to Obi despite the fact that the hallways were deserted around this time of night however you were still startled when Obi-Wan firmly gripped your lower jaw and hauled you around to the backside of the pillar. Enveloped in shadow he pushed your back against the pillar and a small annoyed huff of air left him before he spoke, “My sweet girl, what to do with you. Sneaking out with my padawan and not even having the decency to tell me. I was looking for you for hours.”

His dominating role left you breathless and you bit your lip letting a soft whine escape your throat, but you couldn’t help but question your lover “Why didn’t you just use our face bond to find me Obi?”

His facade fell slightly as he looked at you with a slight crease to his brow, “That would have been an invasion of privacy Darling.”

His care for you and unwillingness to cross any boundaries, even when it wouldn’t have bothered you in the least, warmed you body. You leaned forward attempting to kiss him but slipping back into control Obi shook his head before stating, “You don’t get to kiss me yet little one, I still have to punish you.”

A thrill shot straight to your pussy at his words and you felt your breath hitch too, “Punish me, how are you going to punish me Master?”

Obi-Wan groaned softly at the way you drawled out the title master and he glanced around either side of the pillar before hissing, “On your knees, little one”

Your eyes widened, faltering for a moment as you whispered, “Here? What if we get caught?”

A deep laugh filled the air around you as Obi-Wan trailed his other hand, which had been resting on the pillar next to your head, down your body to grope at your breasts over your brown tunic. A dark aroused expression covered his face as he spoke again, “What if we get caught? Well you’d certainly like that wouldn’t you? I think you wanted me to catch you sneaking back in so I’d give you exactly what you deserve and I think you want the thrill of the possibility of being caught right now. I bet if I snuck my hand into those pants you would be absolutely soaked for me. Now, be a good girl and get on your knees for me.”

You couldn’t deny that every word he spoke was true, your whole body tingling in anticipation. Biting your lip you made a show of slowly sliding to the ground, holding eye contact the entire way down. It was only when you settled on your knees that you let your eyes wander to the bugle barely visible in the dark light. Obi-Wan finally let go of your neck only to firmly grasp the back of your head. Leaning forward you nuzzled at the outline of his member pressing on his pants before kissing it and then trailing kisses down his inner thigh as you reached up to undo his pants. You pulled them down just enough to pull his cock free and your mouth watered at the sight. You decided to get right to it instead of teasing him and so you sucked his tip into your mouth, getting it nice and wet before you sunk his length further into your mouth. Obi seemed desperate for you as he tugged your hair slightly pulling you to take him deeper into your mouth. You started bobbing your head up and down slowly each time you tried to slip him deeper into your mouth, when he hit the back of your throat his hand pressed firmly holding you there. A small whine was muffled by his cock in your mouth and you heard the quietest moan before Obi-Wan growled out, “I’m going to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours and you’re going to take it sweet girl, is that alright?”

You nodded best you could and at your consent Obi slowly pulled his hips back before thrusting forward. He never fully pulled out before pushing back into the wet heat of your mouth and when it was clear you were taking him well he sped his pace up. His hand tangled in your hair encouraged your head forward to meet his thrusts and you were trying to keep your choking noises to a minimum as you reminded yourself that you were in the middle of a hallway.

Obi-Wan was quite a mouthful and you did your best not to scrape him with your teeth as he fucked your face, sinking as deep as possible. As you grew more confident you relaxed your throat and Obi-Wan was able to sink into your throat. At the feeling he moaned holding you there. Your throat spasming around him caused his hips to jerk and your eyes shot up to his face as you looked at him pleadingly, your oxygen was running rather low. Another moan slipped past his lips at your expression and he held you there for just a second longer before pulling fully back, you softly gasped for air, head turning slightly, and then a squeak left you as Obi tapped the side of your face firmly with his rigid length and a command of, “Open up.”

You felt your pussy clench at his words and obediently opened your mouth wide, he plunged his cock back in setting another harsh pace.

You couldn’t help slinking your hand down your body and under your pants to rub at your wet panties, a moan left you as you toyed with your wet folds and Obi’s hips stuttered once he realized what you were doing.

“Oh my desperate girl, couldn’t even wait for me to finish could you? So needy, so..” His words faltered as you took him back into your throat again and he forgot what he was about to say when you moaned. Bucking his hips as his head fell back in barely contained pleasure he came down your throat. You whined again as you swallowed down his hot cum and looked up at him as you frantically plunged two fingers into your pussy. You had just started a steady rhythm when Obi-Wan recovered and pulled out of your mouth. He tugged your arm gently and you removed your hand from your pants with a grumble before rising from the ground. He tucked himself back into his pants before guiding your fingers to his mouth to suckle the juices off your fingers. Pulling them out of his mouth with a pop he then captured your lips in a sweet kiss. Once he pulled away he whispered against your lips, “My quarters 10 minutes, I’ll take care of you darling.”

As he spoke his hand came to cup your heat over your clothing and a whimper left your throat before you nodded, repeating back ‘10 minutes’. He pressed another soft kiss to your lips and then he pulled away and after ensuring no one was there he strolled down the hall towards his quarters like he didn't just cum down your throat. You waited another minute before emerging from the pillar and heading the opposite way, taking the long path towards the living quarter, body thrumming with excitement. When you slid into his quarters exactly ten minutes later Obi-Wan stood up abruptly. You shot him a questioning look and he simply shrugged, there was no way he was going to tell you he spent the last five minutes trying to find an enticing pose for when you entered but then got too self conscious - hence him rising quickly when you entered. Shaking off his small display of insecurity he pulled you close to him once you were within reach and slotted his mouth against yours. You trailed your hands over his chest and started to work his clothes off his body, impatient and needy. When you broke apart again Obi let out a breathless laugh at your rapid pace, "And here I thought I was the one missing you. I really was looking for you all over." You laughed slightly as you smiled up at him and replied, "Oh no I missed you very much and I'm very eager to make up for lost time my love""Well, I can't argue with that" Obi chuckled as he started to undress you as well. Clothes were flung away from your bodies as your mouths collided again in a heated flurry. Once Obi had undone your trousers and pulled them down he teased at your still covered heat with his hand. At your delighted noises he slipped his hand past your underwear and rubbed at your wet lips. He made a satisfied noise at the clear arousal and he felt his length twitch as he started to harden again. Slipping two fingers into your drenched folds he pumped slowly before scissoring lightly, ensuring you were fully prepared to take him again. You pulled apart to nip at his neck and you bit at his shoulder as you moaned out, "I want to be on top Obi, let me ride you." Obi-Wan slid his fingers out of you and the two of you stumbled to the edge of his bed, lips locking again as if you couldn't bear to be separated. He sat down heavily on the edge and tugged you down onto his lap. You ground against his semi-hard length, coating him in your juices, and at your touch blood pumped to his cock rapidly. You gave him a few firm pumps before lifting your hips and angling him towards your entrance, Obi's hips gave an involuntary jerk and his cock slipped past your entrance and poked at your ass cheek . A breathless giggle left your lips at the blunder and you realigned him before sinking down slowly. You both moaned out as he drank in your warmth and you reveled in the stretch that you felt no matter how many times you took him in your cunt. Once you lowered your hips all the way and felt him bottom out inside you a small whine slipped through your lips and you nuzzled into Obi's neck, the feeling of being connected overwhelming you for just a moment. His hands gently trailed down your sides to grasp at your hips and gently started to pull your hips in slow circles. Your head fell back at the feeling and finally needing to move you started to raise yourself up and down his cock. At Obi-Wan's gentle moans of encouragement you picked up the pace, the firm slap of your thighs meeting his every time you slid down on him. You were grateful for the firm grip on your waist as Obi-Wan helped bounce you on his hard length as you could feel your thighs starting to burn. Leaning forward Obi captured your mouth in a searing kiss and quickly plunged his tongue into your mouth, asserting his dominance, while you made out he adjusted his grip, one hand sliding down to your ass in order to help you speed up your pace. As you broke apart his mouth nipped at your neck before moving to your chest and capturing a nipple, sucking slightly. When he pulled back he blew cold air on the spot wet with his saliva and your nipple hardened quickly, which he then teased softly with his teeth. Your hands which had been resting on his shoulders for leverage came to bury themselves in his hair. With the length Obi-Wan had let it grow to you were able to tug on his hair to direct him to your other tit, craving the attention. After giving your other nipple the same treatment Obi-Wan picked you up quickly to flip positions. Now standing above you it gave him a better angle to fuck into your wet heat faster and freed his hands to roam your body. As he picked up his pace his breath came out in short pants and in between breaths he stuttered out, "Sorry my love, I know you wanted to be on top, I just couldn't help myself" You were just as breathless as him and gave him a small laugh indicating it was fine, you could hardly find it in yourself to complain - not when he was pounding into you so deliciously. Your hand flew down to toy at your clit as Obi raised your legs to rest on his shoulders so he could get a clear view of you. Moaning loudly at the way your body jiggled every time his cock slammed into you he grabbed onto your hips once again, intent of making it so you couldn't walk without thinking of him tomorrow, and pulled you into him. Your other hand slid up to cover your mouth as you cried out loudly as you rubbed your clit, your orgasm coming quickly. Having been so worked up for so long your release was short but blinding. Your walls clenched tightly around his long hard cock and your whole body tensed, Obi-Wan felt your leg muscle tightening and as he continued his rapid pace, seeking his own release, he turned his head to press soft kisses to your calf. He also took over rubbing gently at your clit as your hand had become rather useless and he whispered to you comfortingly, "That's it my sweet girl, you're doing so well. You look beautiful cumming all over my cock like that, such a good girl." Whimpers flew from your mouth as you came down from your high and you raised yourself on your forearms slightly to watch as Obi plunged in and out of your heat. You trailed your eyes up his body to meet his and you bit your lip before moaning out, "You feel so good Master Kenobi. You're fucking me so well" Obi-Wan's head fell back at your praise and you could tell he was getting close from the way his hips faltered in his pace before speeding up again. You let out another small whimper, knowing just how to push him to cum, and you whined "Oh, Obi-Wan you're incredible, I love you so much. I'm yours, no one else would ever make me feel like this, just you!" At your words Obi pulled out to pump his cock quickly as ropes of white cum flew out of him to coat your body. Obi-Wan's orgasms were never quiet, the air filling with his moans and whimpers mixed with reverent whispers of your name as he milked every drop out of himself to drip on your beautiful stomach. When he finally came down from his high he was met with your soft smile and you couldn't help but whisper out, "You look so incredible when you cum." Obi-Wan blushed at your compliment and suddenly grew shy again, it was cute how dominant he could be but still grow shy around you. He didn't reply instead retreating to get a damp cloth to clean you up. When he returned you pulled him into a soft kiss, pouring your feelings into your bond and you felt him light up with similar feelings as he allowed his walls to lower for you. Pulling away you nuzzled your noses together, your force bond thrumming with feelings of love and you fell into your post sex routine easily. After being together for so long you knew exactly what the other needed. Tonight you settled against Obi-Wan, sitting in between his legs - back to his chest. You laid at an angle where you could look up at him as the two of you talked about your days, content just to be in each other's company. You pointedly avoided talking about your little excursion with Anakin to the city but you knew at some point Obi-Wan would bring it up to chastise you for encouraging Ankain's rebellious tendency but it appeared he would leave that until morning as a big yawn left his mouth. You chuckled and pressed a kiss to his jaw with the murmured suggestion of sleep. Obi-Wan nodded and lazily slid down under the sheets, taking you with him. You rolled off of him and to the side only to cuddle up against him, his arm slinging around your shoulders in a warm embrace. You sighed and closed your eyes and just before drifting off to sleep you thought 'I love you, Obi-Wan' and the last coherent thought you had before drifting off to sleep was him responding through your bond, 'I love you too darling'.

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #Obi-Wan x Reader #Obi-wan kenobi x you #obi-wan x you #obi-wan kenobi smut #obi-wan smut #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut

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drakewalkerfantasy · 3 years

Text

Six Sentences Sunday (It’s more, much more)

Dear Anon, it’s probably not what you asked for or kept in mind, and I know Tatum wanted back because of his mum and this being his dream, but I somehow got here and this being related to his feelings to MC:( I may rewrite it like 2000 times anyway. But at the moment I share it as part of Six Sentence Sunday together with something I may have no balls to post anyway :-D

I have 6 WIPs Under the cut:

1. Unnamed (Anon’s request Tatum’s POV for why he wanted to be reassigned back to army)

“Shit...,” cursed Tatum standing in front of Claire’s suite. The crumpled job offer in his fist, while piles and piles of rejection letters were kept in a neat stack at home on his table.

This was only his first day at work and he already hated it. The first day and some paparazzi already tried to breach through to the campus ground in a hunt for some pictures of Claire to see something juicy or twist a story. Making him feel irritated at himself for not getting there faster, somehow feeling responsible for the fact that Claire needed to deal with that herself.

The face flashing in front of his eyes... the face he tried so hard to forget but couldn’t. The face of the girl who kept his mind occupied during the lonely nights at war... the face of the girl he was best friends with all these five years ago... too long ago, thought he. But not anymore, he firmly reminded himself. He isn’t a friends with Claire Montgomery anymore she is his assignment and no matter how hard it would be, he will need to make sure that that is the way how it will be kept. Trying to push away her face, trying to make himself to remember that he is here not to be friends with her again, but to keep her safe.

The sounds of her laugher reached his ears, the melodic ringing of the tiny bells on the wind and his heart thumped involuntarily, peaking up the pace, while he cursed under his breath softly. Remembering the same laugher she shared with him so long ago. Remembering how desperate he always was to protect her, knowing that she never will be his to protect.

But now when he was assigned to protect her he hated it. The army changed him, and the memory of what he could done for his country, for her, changed him as well. The thought of how proud his mother would be of him if she only knew... if she only would be there to witness him in his soldier uniform and how disappointed she would be now, knowing that all that hard work gone for nothing, occupied his every thought. Making him want to turn around and run until he will have nowhere to run to. Making him want to go to the Madam President and request the reassignment for him, getting his free ticket back to the army. The place where he could be himself, the place where he could be worthy for both his mother and her... the girl who occupied his every dream, the girl who he swore to protect.

2. Unnamed (more likely will remain WIPs forever since it’s so OOC for Tatum, don’t hate me for that)

“Come on, Tatum. This is the last one. I promise. Pleeeeeease,” whined Denise seemingly drunk, while her eyes were eyeing the good looking guy she spotted when they just came to celebrate his return from the army.

“You said that exact same thing a few songs ago,” said Tatum, rolling his eyes, while his hands went to her hips swaying with her in the rhythm to music. Her hands around his neck while she arched her back, they bodies grinding against each other making him swear softly, feeling how his dick twitched from the sensations. “Sorry he mumbled...,” while she continued to dance writhing in his arms, her hips swaying in time with music, making a soft grunting sounds to escape his lips.

3. Please stay (Tatum x MC) (Tatum’s POV chapter 15)

“Tatum wait!” He heard a familiar voice calling for him. The voice with a notes of desperation and panic. The voice that sounded so out of breath that it seemed that the girl who it belonged to was running and he stopped dead, slowly turning to face Claire. The girl he didn't want to leave behind. The girl who ran as quickly as she could toward him, scanning every gate and open seat before her eyes met his.

“Claire? Demarco? What’re you doing here?” asked he, feeling how his heart skipped a beat, while he was standing in line to board the plane, watching the two people he didn’t expect to ever see again to approach him. Stopping just a few step away from him.

4. The Truth of Healing (Tatum x MC), could be renamed

“Mendoza, you cannot just enter like that,” hissed one of the bodyguards’ trying to reach for Tatum to stop him right outside the door.

“Miles, just try and stop me,” seethed he, whirling around with an angry glare in his eyes before throwing the door open and marching inside without another glance.

The blood roaring in his ears, but even through the rage boiling his blood he still could hear two gasps and exclamations following his entrance.

“Hey,” exclaimed Blaine, when the door opened hiding a smirked behind a shocked expression. “Didn't your mom teach you that you have to knock before you enter?” asked he while making a show from the way how the covers slipped from his naked torso, while another pare of hands firmly hold it over her blossom.

“Claire, stand up,” roughly said Tatum ignoring Blaine, his eyes unmoving on her, while hers widened and move around the room looking anywhere but him. Guilt? Fear? he thought, knowing that even if it was it still wasn’t what everyone would assume happened. He knew her well enough to know that.

5. My little angels (Tatum x Claire) (Anon request 43 from 50)

“I cannot... I cannot...,” whimpered Claire, when another contraction followed by a pain shout through her, knocking the air out of her. Her breath elevated hitching slightly and she could feel how the tears started to burn the corners of her eyes with another inevitable bout of pain and a sob tearing through her. But before she could say anything else or feel another fit of pain reaping through her, she felt two strong hands gently wrapping around her bringing her closer to a firm muscled chest.

6. Fluff ABC (Letter A: Alex and Blaine)

Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Blaine and Alex not really affectioned to anyone but each other. He always make sure that Alex knows how much she means to him and when they are on public her hand always hooked through his or his is placed on the small of her back. Alex in turn leans closer to him every time when he shares some information about the dignities or politicians they are about to meet. Sometimes making jokes about them or sharing rumours.

Apart from that he always cooks dinner and breakfasts for her when he has time. He learned how to do that after he learned that she is foodie. For lunch they usually do take away or go some places together. He also always makes sure that every day she has a fresh bouquet of her favourite flowers on the table. And no matter how busy they are, they both always make sure to find the time for each other, even if to simple video call to see and hear each other.

Tagging: @choices-bound @jamespotterthefirst @mercury84choices @k2624 @thefrenchiemama @choicesreal @starrystarrytrouble @boneandfur @walkerswhiskeygirl @sophxwithers @ramseysrookiex @suitfer @gardeningourmet

#six sentence sunday #six sentence game #foreignaffairs #anonymous request #tatum x mc #blain x oc

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

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Birds Still Sing When They Fall From The Sky

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7/ part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 belongs to this

content warnings: mourning, funeral, isolating oneself/ pushing people away despite needing support, mention of past character death, drowing used as a metaphor briefly, guilt about feeling happy, beginning of depression (I am not sure about this, but just to be safe), not a comforting ending, touching a dead person

This is still not the ending. I will write "final chapter" or something above the actual final chapter

also please tell me if I should put brief summaries of what happened at the beginning of the following chapters in case anything is too upsetting for you to read

Geralt didn’t cry. Not yet. Maybe he never would.

All he wanted to do was lie here and never open his eyes again. What was the point? The man he had dedicated decades of his life to was gone. By all accounts, there should be nothing left for him to do.

And yet, when the sun began to rise, so did Geralt.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jaskier. He looked so peaceful, the smile he had fallen asleep with, still on his face, a lock of hair falling into his eyes.

Geralt brushed it away as tenderly as he could. His fingers touched cold skin. He knew it was nonsensical, but that didn’t stop him from pulling the blanket tighter around Jaskier. He couldn’t let him be cold. Not when the sun was rising and spring was just settling in, eager to warm Jaskier.

When the cries of the early birds shattered the crushing silence, Geralt got up as he had always done.

As impossible as it seemed, he still had things he needed to do. Things, Jaskier needed him to do.

His body moved on its own as he left Jaskier behind and sat himself down at the table, paper and quill ready.

His hands didn’t shake when he wrote the letters. To Yen, who through some sort of magic Geralt had never bothered to ask about would receive them within hours no matter where she was.

To his family, who was still had each other, probably sparring or making jokes around the breakfast table at the moment. Still all together at Kaer Morhen.

Lambert used to complain about the snow that kept him in the place he hated for longer than he wanted to, but Geralt couldn’t help but agree with what Jaskier had said yesterday. At least they were together. At least they didn’t have to be alone when they read Geralt’s message. Selfishly, he was thankful that it also meant he didn’t have to write more than one letter to them. He didn’t think he would be able to.

Writing it down was supposed to make it more real, but all he could think about was how Jaskier would good-naturedly criticise his plain phrasing.

Once more he wrote the words down. A name, a date, another date for the funeral.

His feet carried him to the town square where he hung the pamphlet on the notice board without ceremony. Barely anyone was up yet to wonder why Geralt was here so early and all alone.

Geralt left before anyone could read his note and pat his back in sympathy or offer him words that wouldn’t mean anything, because there had been only one person who had without fail found the right words to comfort him.

On his way back, guilt started to creep up in him. He should go to Kris, tell them what had happened. They deserved to hear it from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to go over to them. Doing so would mean having to say it out loud and nothing, not the deadliest monster or the thought of the trials, was more terrifying.

So he kept his eyes on the path that lead him back home, ignoring the gnawing feeling in his stomach as he passed by the road that led to Kris’ home without even sparing it a glance.

He only came to a halt when his eyes fell on something in front of the door of his cottage.

The blanket they had dropped when getting up to dance, forgotten as they had laughed and looked at each other as if the world didn’t exist.

He picked it up, letting the fabric glide over his fingers until his hands tightened around it. Jaskier’s scent still lingered on it.

With wooden movements that weren’t his own, Geralt entered the cottage, cleaning up the mess he had left. The emptied the day old cup he had held in his hands while waiting for Jaskier to join him, only to find something precious beyond imagination when Jaskier had finally awoken. He put the scarf he had flung across the bedroom back where it belonged; Jaskier’s teasing and mock outrage still hanging in the air.

Geralt tried to occupy himself with such tasks. Anything to keep his mind away from what he didn’t dare think about, even while knowing he couldn’t push it away for good.

He could only ignore it for so long.

It all came crashing down on him, when he caught himself thinking about looking over their garden as he had done every year at this time. But watering the flowers would be of no use now. The best thing he could probably do was getting rid of the plants, before they died on their own once Geralt left.

Because he would have to leave.

He couldn’t stay here. The cottage, the coast, this tiny town that had welcomed him with open arms had nothing left for him. He wasn’t the one who had come here to stay until the end of his days.

His heart turned to stone at the thought. This had been his home, something he had never thought he could have. But it wasn’t anymore. Anywhere would have been home as long as it was with you, Jaskier had said and Geralt found the truth of the words dragging him under, as he stood in the place that no longer felt like home.

He would have to get rid of the cottage somehow. Sell it or abandon it until it succumbed to time and weather.

For some unnameable reason, the thought hurt more than writing the letters had.

Home had been a beautiful dream that through some undeserved mercy had become reality. It was over now. Time to wake up. Time to go back to the real world, where the nights were cold and lonely and the path he wandered was bare of laughter and song.

And yet, Geralt found himself hesitating. The cottage was chockfull of proof that it had been more than an idle fantasy.

All around him were mementoes of a shared life. Trinkets Geralt had brought Jaskier back from his hunts, the numerous notebooks filled with Jaskier’s verses, feelings and thoughts. The myriad of sea shells Jaskier had collected on their window sills, just as he had dreamed of doing when they had started imagining what they could have.

Geralt knew those trinkets should hold no more meaning. Once he left, they would only be objects gathering dust.

And yet he couldn’t bring himself to even begin throwing them away. It was too much. It belonged to Jaskier, all of it. Geralt couldn’t take it away from him, even now.

Just like he couldn’t take Jaskier away from this place that had been so dear to him. Selling it and moving on would be the sensible thing, but even as Geralt considered it, he knew there was no way he would be able to do so.

Every part of this place breathed Jaskier’s name, evidence that he had been here, that his life had been meaningful. Notebooks desperate to tell the world that Jaskier existed.

Geralt couldn’t keep his hands from shaking, when he pulled the notebooks out, one by one until finally his breathing came to a stuttering halt, when he found what Jaskier had kept hidden from him for who knew how many years.

There, behind a book of poetry and one of silly children’s stories lay a stack of letters.

For what seemed like an eternity, Geralt could only stare at them until he ripped himself out of his frozen state with a jolt, grabbing the letters like a drowning man reached for an outstretched hand, desperate for the tiniest slither of hope, though knowing it was too late to save him.

One by one, he gathered the letters close. There were so many. Countless words Jaskier had wanted to share with him.

The overwhelming urge to rip each letter open this instant overcame Geralt, crashed into him like a wave during a storm. He needed to know what Jaskier had wanted to tell him, needed to read his writing as if it could replace his voice.

His fingers trembled, as he reached for the first envelope. The paper started to rip, the sound of it unbearably loud and sharp.

Geralt froze.

He couldn’t do it. Those were Jaskier’s last words to him, a last part of him that remained for Geralt to discover. Reading them, even opening the envelopes felt too final. He couldn’t –

A flash of light in his periphery made him flinch. A gust of wind tore the letters out of his grip and strew the letters through the room.

He turned around to see his family step out of a portal.

Of all the emotions, Geralt hadn’t expected to feel the tiniest bit of rightness as he stood before the hole he and his brothers had dug out, holding Jaskier’s body in his arms as if he had fallen asleep there. No word had been spoken while they had dug the grave, but the occasional touch - seemingly random brushes of hands against his shoulders or arms – had told him enough. His family was here with and for him.

Triss, who had come with Yennefer had hesitated to let them dig the grave themselves, but there had been something utterly impossible about the idea of doing this with magic.

It had felt wrong, just how the place for the grave had felt right. Here, in the garden Jaskier had so loved, amidst the flowers that would bloom in time, Jaskier would be able to rest. Here, where he had sat crying and desperate to get told that he was loved, he was now bid farewell, surrounded by people who loved him.

The sheer amount of people who attended the improvised funeral had almost made Geralt choke with unexpected emotion. He had known Jaskier was liked by many, that he had touched lives and made them brighter, but never had he dared to expect how many people would show their gratitude for Jaskier’s life once he was gone.

Neighbours, people who used to be strangers until Jaskier had befriended them; regulars who had bought their flowers; people who had flowers gifted to them with a smile and a kind word; parents of the children who used to listen to Jaskier’s stories. They all were here.

Even stranger and more wonderous was the fact that they didn’t spare even one distrustful look at the witchers and the sorceresses.

Geralt’s brothers, Vesemir, Yennefer and Triss all stood to the side, while the townsfolk held their rites and yet they didn’t seem like foreign bodies, more like guardians. There was no doubt that every single person here knew that they were who Jaskier had held closest to his heart.

For a long moment, Geralt didn’t move. No one said anything, no one pushed him to get on with it.

Still, Geralt knew he couldn’t prolong this any further.

His grip on Jaskier tightened, crumbling the fabric of the green jacket he had put on Jaskier. He didn’t know if such a thing was frowned upon by the townsfolk, but he didn’t care. Jaskier had loved that garment, had been so happy when Geralt had brought it back from Corvo Bianco.

Unbidden, images of Jaskier’s smile and the little twirl he had given to show off for Geralt, flashed through his mind.

Finding the jacket had almost felt like packing to go travelling together again. Except these were travels Jaskier was taking without him.

Geralt gathered Jaskier close, letting his hair tickle against his skin, as he whispered, “One last journey, Jaskier. One last adventure for you.”

His voice was quiet and broken. Not one of the humans would be able to hear him, but he knew that his words would not be hidden from his family. In a strange way it was comforting to know his words didn’t get lost in nothingness.

One last time he let his thumb brush over Jaskier’s skin, before lowering him in the ground and burying him in the soil that would soon bring forth new flowers.

He stood before the grave, staring down at Jaskier looking so small and wished that there was more he could do, more he could say.

Instead, he took a step to the side to where his family stood.

Eskel’s hand brushed against his and he felt Vesemir’s presence at his back as they watched the people who had gotten to know Jaskier step closer to the grave, one by one and laying sea shells onto it, each one accompanied by words describing a memory the people had of Jaskier, before they left the burial site with a promise to keep that memory in their hearts.

Without his permission an almost unnoticeable smile twisted Geralt’s lips. Jaskier would have been fascinated by the traditions of the sea-side town.

The last person to step forward was Kris. They lingered by the grave longer than anyone else had. Geralt did his best not to listen in as they quietly shared their memories of Jaskier.

Although Geralt understood little of the town’s rites, it felt like a private moment, too precious to intrude on.

Contrary to anyone else, Kris didn’t turn to go back home when they were done. Instead, they approached Geralt.

Geralt steeled himself for pity or words that wouldn’t be able to reach him, however well meant they might be. He tried coming up with possible responses, as Jaskier surely would have wanted him to.

But Kris didn’t offer him any such words.

“What will you do now?” They asked instead, their expression open and bare of judgement for any possible reply.

Still Geralt stiffened, when he forced the words out. “I am a witcher.”

The words weren’t supposed to hurt that much. Thought they were the truth, saying it out loud felt like betraying Jaskier, who had dedicated his life to making sure Geralt knew he was more than that.

But no time spent listening to encouraging and loving words could change the fact that Geralt was what he was.

His eyes drifted to the patch of dirt under which Jaskier lay.

He was a witcher. There was no choice in what he was going to do with the rest of his life.

And yet.

“I can’t leave him alone.” The words that slipped past Geralt’s lips without permission were little more than a breath, but Kris heard them nonetheless.

“I’ll be here.” They reached out to Geralt, touched his hands, almost briefly enough to be able to pretend it was a coincidence, and yet the gesture meant as much to him as the words that did reach him despite everything. “I will take care of him.”

There was no mistaken the wavering of Kris’ voice.

Geralt didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t comfort Kris; he didn’t have the words or the strength to do so. So he settled for a brusque nod that hopefully would be enough to make them understand.

Kris returned the gesture with a trembling smile, before turning their back on Jaskier’s family and leaving them to what they needed to do.

As the last rays of the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, the witchers took up their positions surrounding the grave.

In the light of day, the people of Oakwood had held their rites, but the night belonged to the witchers. They couldn’t deny Jaskier the traditions of his people, but neither were they willing to let him go without acknowledging what he was to them. Jaskier deserved both, just as he had made it his life’s work to live in both the humans’ and witchers’ worlds.

As the moon crept across the sky, the witchers held a vigil over the one they had lost, each one holding a small flame of igni in their hands – it was as close as they could get to the pyre they would normally light.

For anyone walking past, the sight would have been unsettling, but for Geralt the quiet comfort of his family protecting Jaskier in his first night truly away from them melted the sharp spike that had been struck into his chest.

The only movement to be seen came from the dancing flames that lit the way through the darkness for Jaskier until the morning came. The only sound to be heard was the beating of their hearts, the sound of family close by the most comforting sound a witcher could imagine.

They remained like this throughout the night, no sleep or meditation to rest their bodies, when their minds needed to remain sharp to watch over the fallen.

It was only when the night faded into grey once more that another sound was added.

Coën’s voice drifted through the night. A haunting but strangely soothing melody that Geralt had never heard before, matched to the rhythm of their hearts.

The song broke through the silence that the wolfs had built, but neither of them raised their voice to detain Coën. They wouldn’t deny the griffin his rites either, as they hadn’t denied him a welcome into their family, as Jaskier hadn’t denied him his heart.

As Coën sang, Geralt couldn’t help but think of the times that Jaskier had done his best to get the witchers to sing with him. His grin had been so bright when Coën had finally given in and his laugh when Lambert had joined in and completely butchered the song still remained in Geralt’s memory.

None of the wolfs accompanied Coën. Their rough voices would ruin what he was giving Jaskier, but Geralt felt Eskel shifted next to him, until they were touching. A quiet understanding.

When they finally left their vigil and rose with the sun, something in Geralt’s chest came lose.

He shouldn’t feel this way, but for the first time since they arrived through the portal, Geralt really saw his family.

What had been needed to be done was done.

Now, he got to hug Eskel again - gods, how he had missed him – he got to watch Vesemir’s exasperation at whatever Lambert was doing. He could see the sunlight reflecting on the gemstone Coën wore in his beard, as Jaskier had suggested to him so long ago. He could see Yennefer and Triss talking quietly amongst themselves until Triss lifted her hand over the grave, letting the first buds of wildflowers sprout on it.

He couldn’t supress the smile when he saw a dandelion among them.

Geralt couldn’t remember a time when they all had met outside of Kaer Morhen, like this, like a family.

He wished Jaskier were here to see it. He would have been so happy. He would have deserved to see it.

But he never would get to again.

And here Geralt was, looking at his family and feeling warm inside, as if they hadn’t spent the night standing over the grave of the man he loved most. Happiness should be the farthest thing from his mind right now.

The guilt about it was eating him up, and still Geralt couldn’t push the feelings down that welled up any time he saw Lambert nudge his shoulder roughly against Eskel’s.

This was wrong. It was all so wrong.

So why did it feel right as if his life hadn’t shattered around him?

A hand found his, almost making him flinch. It was smooth and warm, so similar to how Jaskier’s had been decades ago, if it weren’t for the lack of lute-calluses.

Geralt looked up and met violet eyes.

A lump formed in his throat, but he couldn’t look away.

Yennefer gave him a tight smile. “Nothing selfish about being happy.”

She couldn’t know. She couldn’t understand. She had no right to be saying his own words that had been spoken when he hadn’t known any better back at him.

And yet as he looked at the tentative smiles of his brothers he couldn’t bring himself to disagree as much as his mind was telling him he had no right to feel this way.

“He mentioned you,” Geralt said, just to fill the silence with anything other than the voice inside his head. “Yesterday, not long before…before it happened.” Yennefer stiffened and sucked in a sharp breath.

“Nothing bad,” Geralt added quickly. “Not like the last time you saw him. It wasn’t… that time wasn’t the last memory he had of you.” Geralt shuffled uncomfortably, the spike of guilt rising into his throat with every passing second. “He told me not to tell you, but…you made his last hours less painful. You truly helped him.”

Yennefer nodded brusquely. “Of course he needed my help. He always was a walking disaster.” Her tone lacked the bite of her words and Geralt pretended not to notice the quiet sniffle that followed them. “Thank you for telling me.”

She looked away, as if she were unaffected, but Geralt could see her subtly reaching out for Triss’ hand for comfort.

Geralt was glad for it. It was good that Yennefer had someone there with her.

He was glad that he had all of them here with him, if only for today.

The day dragged on like quicksand pulling him under, slow at first until he was half sunk before he had even noticed it.

They sat in the cottage’s living room, as if it was the library at Kaer Morhen.

A shudder ran down Geralt’s spine and he couldn’t pretend it was a bad one. The relief at the sound of voices and scratching chairs in this place flooded him without warning.

This place was never meant to be silent.

The noise that filled it now was nothing like Jaskier’s singing, his rambling or the scratching of his quill on paper, but it was close enough.

At the very least, the voices drowned out the deafening silence left by Jaskier’s missing heartbeat.

With every passing second, the tension dissipated bit by bit, whether because they were all pushing the unavoidable thoughts into the back of their minds or because the others’ presence was easing them enough to laugh again.

Still, Geralt could feel the unspoken words hanging in the air. The others might pretend not to notice how Geralt grabbed the strewn about letters off the floor, but he could feel their eyes burning into his back.

Even worse was when he stood back up and found none of their eyes on him, as if looking at him would set off an explosion that would rip him apart.

Something about it set Geralt on edge again, suffocated him.

A human wouldn’t have been able to see the tiny tremble that took hold of his hands, but it would be foolish to hope it could escape the notice of witchers or sorceresses.

Eskel was the only one who reacted, while the others kept talking among themselves, pretending they weren’t watching Geralt’s every move with concern.

“Let me,” Eskel said, making space on the table for Geralt to place the letters on.

Geralt swallowed as he watched Eskel put the vase and various meaningless knickknacks that had meant the world to Jaskier to the side.

“I didn’t have time to get rid of that yet.” The words sounded more defensive then they were meant to. Geralt almost wished they sounded more like the lie that they were. It had had nothing to do with time and everything with the memories that clung to them and that Geralt couldn’t let go of.

For a long moment, Eskel didn’t answer, but when Geralt looked up at him his eyes rested on the collection of sea shells in contemplation.

“What if you don’t?”

“What?”

Eskel shrugged, aiming for nonchalance but missing by a mile.

Coën dropped the pretence of not listening in and answered in Eskel’s stead.

“Why throw it away? I said it before and I’ll say it again: This place could be a safe haven for us in summer.”

Geralt furrowed his brows. “You had been joking.”

Coën shrugged. “Back then, of course. But being able to visit just for a day or two and have a place to go back to?” He threw a challenging glare at the wolfs. “I dare any of you to say it wasn’t the best summer any of us has had in decades.”

Sharply, Geralt sucked in his breath, his eyes darting over to Vesemir, waiting for the old sword master to lecture the griffin on what it meant to be on the Path.

But Vesemir remained quiet, the only one of them still pretending to be disinterested in the conversation.

It was as much of a blessing that they would get.

A soft touch from Eskel made Geralt release his breath again. “And when we come back, we can look after Jaskier.”

One by one his family left, off to live their own lives until one day they might meet again.

Lambert was the first to go, without so much as another glance at the grave, though Geralt couldn’t shake the feeling that he would be the first to return to it. He grunted his usually gruff goodbye as he left, grumbling about finally being alone again. He had none of them fooled. They didn’t need Lambert to say it to know that he would be looking for his cat witcher.

After a short moment of hesitation, Coën ran after him, not ready to be alone quite yet.

Vesemir patted Geralt on the shoulder as he had done when Geralt had only been a boy crying because he couldn’t find his mother in the woods. “Be safe out there, son.”

Geralt nodded and watched as Vesemir disappeared in a portal, shortly followed by Triss.

Yennefer hesitated before stepping in after them. Before doing so, she gave Geralt a hug.

“Remember what we talked about,” she said quietly, “allow yourself to be happy.”

With that, she pulled away, the portal closing behind her, leaving only him and Eskel.

Without wanting to, Geralt clenched his hands into fists at his side as he waited for Eskel to leave him as well. Instead, Eskel clasped a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you going to be alright?”

The question sounded so innocent, but Geralt knew Eskel too well to fall for it. It was all there in the way he kept touching him, grounding him. Geralt was grateful for it, he really was, but Eskel was looking at him like he was preparing for something. For Geralt to fall apart.

The truth was, Geralt didn’t think he could fall apart now. Not anymore. He had already gone through every possible reaction he could have.

He had raged and sobbed and broken down. He had done his best to deny the fact that Jaskier was going to leave him. He had been angry when it had become impossible to ignore anymore; he had yelled at Jaskier and stormed away. He had done whatever he could to keep Jaskier from slipping away; had thought that if he just tried hard enough, he wouldn’t have to lose Jaskier.

He had mourned him while he had been still alive.

What more was he supposed to do? What more could he do?

There was no point in going through all of it again. At the end of the day, it had all been useless. Jaskier was gone and Geralt didn’t even have it in him to be angry at the injustice or shed even a single tear about it.

All he had left was a hollowness inside him. He was empty, barren of all feelings.

A squeeze of his shoulder made him look up.

“I am fine,” Geralt said and as much as he knew how wrong it should have felt, it wasn’t a lie. “I am not going to break down.”

Not again.

But his words didn’t seem to reassure Eskel. If anything, the lines on his forehead deepened, the frown more prominent through the twisting of his scars.

“Geralt, you don’t have to do this. I know this is hard for you. You know I don’t blame or judge you for whatever it is that you feel.” When Geralt only answered by clenching his jaw, Eskel sighed. “How about you travel with me for a while? Scorpion passed away last autumn. We could find new horses and hunt together, just until you are good to be on your own again?”

Something in Geralt’s chest tightened, urging him to accept the offer.

The thought of being alone was terrifying. He wasn’t sure he could even still remember a time when he had been well and truly on his own. He knew for certain that he didn’t want to remember.

He had grown too soft, too weak.

Seeing everyone together had made emotions flare up that he hadn’t wanted to allow himself to feel.

Jaskier’s life had touched so many people, all of them now mourning for him.

Geralt couldn’t let anyone grief for him. There was a reason why witchers hunted alone.

With every farewell Geralt had given out today, the wave of unwanted emotion had grown smaller and smaller. One by one Geralt had watched those who meant most to him disappear and with every one of them a piece of himself had fallen away.

It was a relief.

His silence must have been answer enough for Eskel, for the weight of Eskel’s hand on his shoulder and the last thread of that crushing feeling that came with it, disappeared.

“Be safe,” Eskel said just as Vesemir had. “If you ever change your mind…I’ll keep my eyes open for you.”

Witchers didn’t feel. How often Geralt had wished the rumours to be true. Now that they finally were, it felt like a betrayal of everything Jaskier had stood for.

But Jaskier wasn’t here anymore to tell Geralt that he was wrong, that he should allow himself to feel.

Jaskier was gone and it had left Geralt broken enough that there was nothing left of him to shatter.

He turned his back on Eskel who was leaving him and Jaskier whom Geralt would be leaving.

Without looking back, Geralt went into the cottage that wasn’t his home anymore, for witchers were not allowed to have such a thing, to grab his swords and get back on the loneliness of the Path where he belonged.

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eternalpassions · 3 years

Text

He’s a Beast!

Summary: Kagome's life changes forever as her brother Sesshoumaru makes his way back into her life. What happens when two siblings with unlikable personalities are forced to live together? A tale of a beautiful beast and a tomboyish Belle.

Warnings: Incest, Language, Mentions of homophobia, suggestiveness

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30752492

@chierafied

My Kagome Art

Kagome frowns at her reflection, annoyed, and a bit angry for a few reasons: one being she has to dress feminine which she doesn't normally do. She’s tried being feminine, it just doesn't work. Her hair always sticks out on all sides no matter how she fixes it. She can't walk in heels even if her life depended on it. She prefers wearing straight-cut jeans, tennis shoes, and hoodies.The only reason why she’s kept her hair long all this time is because her stupid parents and stupid best friend Inuyasha told her not to cut it because she’d look “funny”.

Snorting at her reflection she plucks at a fly-away hair. Tugging at the dress she was wearing, feeling completely out of her element in the 3-inch heels she absolutely refused to wear the stockings her mother had provided. Glancing over to where they lay on the dresser she sneered at them.

The only reason why Kagome is wearing this ridiculous outfit today is because she is being forced by her parents for the occasion. Which brings her to the other reason why she is so put out right now...her stupid brother Sesshomaru.

The brother who she hardly knew besides a few old rusty memories. She remembers her being pushed high in the swings when she was younger, her older brother gathering his full force to send her flying into the sky with her hair dancing in her face, laughing uncontrollably, and his small smile behind her.

It has been ten years since she has seen him. They used to be close when she was little, but now he was practically a stranger to her. He moved out of the house when he turned 18 she was just a child at the age of 10 then. When he left it was like he had cut all ties, the memories she had she packed away never to look back on again. When he left it hurt, she had missed him at one point but now it was like she was an only child honestly sometimes she forgot that she wasn’t an only child.

He moved into a big bustling city for university leaving behind his old home in the rural countryside. When he had finished school he stayed in the city to attend law school snagging a top-shot position at some big firm. After that, he was nowhere to be seen except for the occasional holiday and those were rare, she could count on one hand the times she had seen him since he moved out.

His lavish life with High society, big fancy events, and other vain things he never bothered keeping in touch with her. Her brows knit together as a frown further marred her face at the thought of how he probably thought he was too good for the life he left behind.

What’s worse is that even when he did decide to grace his old home with his presence, he hardly acknowledged her. The only thing he would do was greet her shortly by saying her name as he walked by.

Had he always been so stoic?

His demeanor put her off, he felt so cold, callous, and uncaring. It was so different from the brother of her memories. It was like he was a completely different person.

How did he make it through life with that kind of personality?

“Stupid brother” She muttered to herself.

A knock on her door brought her out of her bitter thoughts. She turned towards it and sighed

“Kagome, hurry up! Everyone is waiting! What’s taking so long?” Her mom scolds from behind the door.

“Yea, yea I’m almost done” Kagome grumbles

She hears the muffled sigh before her mom adds “Don't even think about coming down with an attitude either.”

‘Hmph’ Kagome thinks to herself as she crosses her arms indignantly. Knowing herself as she did, she didn't know if she could really make it through this night without showing a bit of ‘attitude’. She was supposed to get all dolled up to see her brother who really just seemed like some extended family member that no one really knew or cared about.

Kagome walks out the door stumbling slightly, catching herself on the doorway. She curses under her breath. Taking a moment to steady herself she makes it to the stairs. ‘Maybe I should just take these damn shoes off until I get to the bottom’ She thinks as she looks apprehensively down the stairs. Her mothers face appears at the bottom with an impatient scowl. Clutching to the railing of the stairs as if it's a life line she cautiously makes her way down taking hesitant steps down the stairs. As she gets closer to the floor, she can hear warm laughter coming from the living room.

As soon as she reaches the bottom of the stairs her breath hitches in her throat. The man she sees sitting on the couch looks nothing like that young man who came to visit on rare occasions. He was dressed in a black suit with a red tie that stood out in a stark contrast against the silver of his hair that was inherited from their father. She thought it was odd that her parents were okay with his hair being at such a long length when they would nitpick at her and judge her appearance and choices as harshly as they did.

She’d never seen a man with hair that length in the countryside they grew up in. What stood out most of all and completely took her breath away was his eyes. In her earliest memories of him she remembered them being a hazel color bordering on yellow but now as she looked at them she could see that the yellow they bordered on was now a bright golden color.

Those golden eyes blinked as he caught sight of her standing in the living room. She couldn’t read his eyes, but they made her forget about her nerves .She felt herself become enslaved by those eyes and for some reason, she couldn’t look away. She didn’t notice how the reason she was able to see those golden eyes so clearly was because he was also gazing at her with just as much intent.

She’d lost track of how long she stood there staring at her brother until her father cleared his throat and their mother coughed, dragging her away from the trance that held them both captive.

“Kagome! What are you doing just standing there! Come, greet your brother!” Her dad scolds from where he is sitting on the couch next to her mother.

Kagome jolts into action feeling her face heat up a bit in her embarrassment. She carefully makes her way over to where her brother is. She felt like she was walking on ice and at any moment she would lose her balance and come crashing down on the floor. Standing in front of him she finds herself feeling nervous now being in close and direct sight to the brother she hadn't seen properly in so long. Her heart beats erratically against her chest.

Finally standing in front of him she can’t help but notice how he towers above her. Now, she hadn't remembered him being that tall.Through the tightness of the white shirt under his suit jacket she can see that it accents the muscles hidden there. She definitely didn’t remember those being there!

Her thoughts are whirling around and her mind can’t seem to catch up with the present and as a result she stutters “ Ses-Sesshomaru.” which is completely unlike her.

‘What’s going on with you?’ She wonders to herself. She wasn’t one to cower like this, to display weaknesses so openly.

‘This guy is nothing to you besides someone you share blood with.’ Kagome scolds herself.

“Kagome, it's a pleasure to finally see you again.” He says.

Those golden eyes seem to brighten, holding her prisoner once more in place as he gently takes her hand in his and raises it to his lips placing a soft and fleeting kiss there. It feels like an out of body experience she has no control over the moment once his lips meet her skin she feels her blood run hot and she can feel the blush rising from her neck to her face.

She wonders what he is thinking at that moment as those eyes seem to smile at her but she can't read him, she can't tell what’s going on in his mind. His face remains a stoic mask as he regards her. She feels like he is laughing at her but she can’t be sure as unnamed emotions flash through those intense eyes of his.

“I love how we’re finally together as a family again. Let's head over to the kitchen. The food is ready, we have important things to talk about” Her mother beams, not noticing the strange interaction between the two.

“After you” Sesshoumaru gestures in front of her with a flourish of his hands.

Kagome nods with a tight smile, her footsteps heavy and awkward as she walks ahead of him. She didn't know what would await her tonight, and she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for it. Not knowing what was so important that her family would get together like this made her wonder if it was good or bad.

It made her feel like a bird trapped in a cage ready and vulnerable to an attack. It made her think of that nursery rhyme she had been teased with all her life. ‘Kagome, Kagome bird in a cage.’ She flinched internally as it popped into her mind.

‘Fuck that’ she thought.

She tries to distract herself from her anxiety of what was to come from this dinner by thinking about her brother. She didn't know what to make of him, he seemed polite and well-mannered. That was good right? There was still something about him that made her feel like maybe he was a predator waiting outside of her cage tonight. She tried to shake those thoughts away, maybe she was being paranoid about the whole thing. Maybe this really was going to be a nice, warm family dinner after all.

Her parents sat across from each other in their usual spots, Kagome took her seat beside her father, leaving the chair directly in front of her for Sesshomaru. Her parents happily chatted, recounting old memories that were almost lost to Kagome. Sometimes people needed other people to remember for them so the memory wouldn’t be lost forever.

“I remember how Kagome would get bullied by the neighborhood kids for being such a tom-boy, and for the boyish way she dressed.” Her mother recounted her memory of the day when she sent Kagome out of the house to school in an adorable and girly outfit that she deemed ‘appropriate’ only for Kagome to sneak out of the house with a pair of her brother's old pants and a tee shirt that she had changed into. On the way home one of the neighborhood boys had pushed her to the ground while telling her that she was a girl and that she would never be allowed to play with him and the other boys.

“Sesshoumaru would have none of it. He would step in front of Kagome and just glare at them and that was enough to have them running for the hills,” Her mother looked across the table over to Kagome sighing in defeat. “Ever since she was little our Kagome was always a little strange.” She finished her memory shaking her head and chuckling.

That comment had Kagome’s mood sour as her face pinched in annoyance. She didn't like her parents making such comments right in front of her as if she wasn’t there. She knew she was a little different than other girls her age, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t sting being called strange by her own parents.

Yes, she was unconventional to say the least. She started to wear the boys uniform when she reached middle school. She didn't like the way the girl's uniform looked on her; it made her feel awkward. It exposed her legs to the point it made her uncomfortable. She preferred the boys uniform, it didn’t show anywhere near as much skin and made her feel more comfortable.

“ What’s your point?” Kagome snapped as her mood darkened. Leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms. She gave her mother a taunting smile silently daring her to continue making her feel as if she wasn’t there.

“ Nothing, nothing honey we’re simply making conversation, anyway speaking of that we have an announcement-” her mother tries to continue on.

“No, No let’s keep having that conversation” Kagome leans back to the table steeling herself ready to fight. She knew how this conversation went. They went through this all the damn time. If her mother didn’t want her to have an attitude she certainly was not picking peaceful conversations for dinner. It was like she was provoking her instead.

“Am I strange because I wear jeans instead of skirts? Because I wear hoodies? Because I like sports? Because I listen to Lady Gaga? Or is it because I kiss girls”

The room goes silent. Kagome knows she has done exactly what her mother told her not to do. She had an attitude. Well more than that, she’s probably ruined the whole dinner. She really needed to do something about that mouth of hers, it got her in trouble far too much.

“It seems that she’s learned to fend herself just fine without me” Sesshoumaru speaks up after what feels like a long time. Kagome is not sure if her eyes are playing tricks on her but she sees his eyes glimmer .

“Kagome, honey, speaking of that we have something to announce” Her mother clears her throat.

Kagome raises an eyebrow, curious at what the announcement was. It had to be something important or else why else had they invited her brother and made it a family affairThere had to be a reason why her parents decided to host this dinner and invite this “brother” of hers and play the role of the happy family for once. Her mind is temporarily distracted from the argument her mother had provoked. She’s curious to hear what the big announcement is supposed to be.

Suddenly that feeling of apprehension and unpleasantness returns to her like an uncomfortable chill creeping up her body.

Kagome begins to understand what this night is really about when the doublespeak begins as soon as her mother begins talking.

As Kagome listens to the excuses being told,she begins to translate the doublespeak in her head.

"We were talking to Sesshomaru a few days ago about how you’ve struggled with your teachers and school and you haven’t made the best choices”

Translation: She has failed to meet demands, she’s insubordinate, a failure, and her choice of friends suck.

“So because of this we think it might be best for you to move in with your brother for some time. It might help put things into perspective for you on how one should behave while also giving you the time and space you need to learn who you are, as well as what it expected of you."

Translation: We think dumping you off to your brother who’s practically a stranger to you might teach you to grow up. Learning from the successful sibling will help you become less of a failure.

“We’re afraid you have irrational tendencies, you don’t consider how your actions make others feel and you need to know what’s expected of you”

Translation: She’s showed some bisexual tendencies, which we find deeply shameful and she needs to be straightened out.

“Living in the city will be better for you than the countryside. We don’t think you’ll flourish here, moving to the city could be a better option for you.”

Translation: We’re sick of having you here, we’re kicking you out

“ We want the best for you, and this means we can't put this off any longer,” her mother continues and Kagome can feel the air getting thinner as she breathed.

Translation: Get the fuck out of here!

Kagome feels as if she has been kicked in the stomach. The air leaves her, brain momentarily shutting down, and she feels dizzy. Eyes darting back from her father to her mother looking for confirmation of what was just said. As silence drags on, she becomes more angry at the affirmation of the reality she doesn’t want to face. Kagome stands slamming her hands on the table knocking over the chair.

The chair hits the floor with a crash.

“Are you serious?” She screams, noticing how her father and Sesshomaru flinch at the tone in her voice. She doesn’t care about their reactions, she has had it with this so-called family. This family that pushed all these decisions on her and gave her no choices of her own.

Kagome’s voice booms across the room. “So you’re telling me I have to move in with my 'brother', That's a stranger to me because I’ve failed to meet your expectations!”

“ Honey you know it's not that” Her father finally speaks up after what feels like a long time. Kagome had almost forgotten about his presence. He’s only smiled passively the whole night not saying anything of much substance besides the usual affirmation. He almost blends into the walls with his passivity and lack of presence.

“ Yes it is! What choice do I have? You just decided that once I’m 18 and you have no legal obligation to me anymore you’d ship me off to this man I don’t know! It's either go with him or go to the streets right?!” Kagome tries to laugh tauntingly to cover up for the tears of anger that were on the verge of rippling and falling down her face.

“Kagome, I know this might seem hard but-” Sesshoumaru says as he carefully stands up. He really was trying his best to keep up this proper brother act wasn’t he?!

Kagome forgets the previous nerves she felt being near her brother and she feels anger pour out of her. So she was right to be apprehensive of him. He didn’t come here without any kind motives. He came here to trick her with his fake politeness and fancy appearance to drag her out of the only home she ever knew!

“No you shut up!” Kagome turns to Sesshoumaru and scowls. She points to him angrily “ I don't want to hear anything from someone who I’ m supposed to call my brother, but who I’ve hardly seen in 10 years and who only graces me with his presence to take me away from my home!”

“Kagome” Her father tries to chime in. He moves his hands in a downward motion to try to calm the situation and Kagome.

“IT’S BEEN DAMN NEAR 10 YEARS since he has really been around and you're telling me that you have just decided yourselves that I Should just go on and get out of the only home I have known just because I don’t follow the social norms that you expect of me? Are you kidding me?!?” She interrupts.They have said enough it's time for them to hear her now. If there’s one thing she didn’t know how to do was going down without a fight.

“We just want what is best for you Kagome. It doesn’t matter anyway things have been set up and you don’t really have a choice in this.You have an awful attitude, you are ungrateful and it seems like you are going to need to learn to grow up the hard way. You can go with Sesshomaru or not either way you will not be staying here.” When their mother finishes her new rant, shock plays across Kagome’s face with intense anger.

Kagome feels the tears begin to stream down on her face.She looks at her parents faces and sees their faces full of resigned conviction. She looks at Sesshoumaru’s face and she isn't sure if it’s her eyes playing tricks on her, but she sees his eyes look deeply troubled and almost guilty. Against her will she feels herself once again drawn into those golden eyes. She feels as if there’s something more hidden under the depths of the gold in his eyes. As if there’s a mask falling off.

“Kagome” He opens his mouth to speak but it is too late Kagome has already stormed out of the room.She kicks off the heels she is wearing and dashes out of the front door. She didn’t want to look into those eyes any longer, she was afraid she’d find something she wasn’t ready to see. What she needed to do was get away and be angry.

Yes, she needed to be angry at the world, angry at him .Sesshoumaru she thinks in disdain. He probably didn’t even feel bad for being the one to drag her out of her home under the guise of a caring older brother. He probably only felt bad since now he was the one taking on this burden of a sister!

Yes he was just an Idiot brother! She ran faster as she used the adrenaline of her speed and anger to fuel her. She felt she was bordering on insanity as she smiled through the tears as she pushed her body harder.

She didn't know for how long she had been running laps around the neighborhood before she stopped in front of the large maple tree in the middle of town.

She heaves and uses the last bit of her energy to jog near the swings, She collapses on the ground and against her will begins to remember the swings that hold the one memory of her idiot brother that she remembers fondly. She stares up at the sky occasionally wiping away a tear of anger from her face. The moon is waning tonight it's crescent shape shining brightly in the night sky.

It's not long before Kagome notices that she is no longer alone as she looks to her left and spots the clean, pristine shoes of her brother, She looks up and sees the bright golden eyes of her brother almost looking like they are expecting her, “What do you want?” She hisses. Of course the one time he does come around all of her choices are being taken from her and her parents hold a celebratory dinner to kick her out of the house. Now he probably wanted to play the concerned brother. Idiot.

“Kagome,” His voice comes out smooth like velvet to her ears and she suppresses the shiver that wants to travel down her spine.She reminds herself that she should be angry at him.

Now of all times he wanted to play the role of the caring brother who wants to check up on his little sister? It was rather ironic coming from the man who only showed up to trick her and side with those who saw her as nothing more than a burden.

“No, you know what. I don’t care what you want. Save the good brother act. I know you don’t give a fuck about me or what I want.” Kagome swears venom his way.

“ All you came here to do was trick me and do what they wanted which was to drag me away from my home. Which lets be honest you probably don't even want to do since you see me as a burden like everyone else does” her voice begins to break down. Shit why was she beginning to cry again?!

At this point she feels the tears gliding down her face at an increasing speed. She feels like an idiot, turning into a sobbing mess in front of this brother she hardly knew.

“ Kagome, you must know that wasn’t my intention-”

“Oh yea then what was it then? To waltz in here, charm me, play the good brother who didn't leave and ignore me all this time then laugh at me as you kick me out of my home?”

She watches him through glassy eyes. He stands with his hands awkwardly in his pants seemingly unsure of what to do. She looks into his golden eyes and for a brief moment she thinks she sees that conflicted Sesshoumaru from before. But it was gone before she could confirm it.

“ Fine, don’t believe me, do what you want, I am simply following our parents wishes.I am leaving tomorrow morning, make up your mind by then” He waves dismissively and walks off.

Kagome watches as he began to walk away. She sits up and watches his soulette in confusion at how his mood changed so easily. Did she imagine that look of conflict earlier? It almost reminded her of that look on his face he got as children when he worried about her, back when he used to care for her.

“Hmph” Kagome grumbled, that couldn’t be the case. She saw what he did back there. Tried to charm her, make her lose her composure, appear all polite and kind, then backstab her along with their parents and kick her out of her house! Then he comes to act worried about her, then acts like he doesnt care and acts like she has any choice in the matter! He’s just messing with her!

He’s wicked! Kagome says to herself. She almost felt like she was Bell from Beauty and the Beast. Dragged out of her home, against her will, to live with what might as well be a beast!

Yes, because Sesshoumaru was like a beast! She told herself. He didn’t look like one with his poltie appearance, pristine manners, fancy clothes, and beautiful face. Beautiful face? She exclaimed?! Why was she thinking this about her brother?!?

She slaps her face with both hands in an attempt to calm herself. She was probably still high from the adrenaline rush of the run. She had a bad habit of looking for highs to ironically calm herself. Running, sex, drugs, you name it. She really needed to calm down and get a grip.

Within a night, her brother was able to do what no one else could do: trick her and humiliate her. She really didn’t want to give him any more satisfaction that he got to her more than he already had. He’s seen her cry for shit’s sake.

“Focus kagome” She sighed and took a deep breath as she looked up at the stars in an attempt to calm herself.

It seems like she was in a stalemate situation. Her parents wern’t going to budge, stupid Sesshoumaru was just in it to do their parents bidding and she was trapped in this situation. He said she had to decide what she wanted to do by morning. Was he mocking her, because she really had no choice in this!

Suddenly a realization comes to Kagome’s mind. She can’t go against the decision made by her parents, but she could act like she agreed to go with Sesshoumaru. That way she could tell people she left on her own accord and she wouldn’t have to give her parents nor Sesshoumaru the satisfaction of knowing they dragged her out of her home! She may have to live with a beast, but she wasn’t going down without a fight! She’d do what they wanted her to do, she’d go live in the city, she’d go to university there, she’d work at the firm, but she'd do it all to spite them!

“Watch out Sesshoumaru,” Kagome says to herself, smiling, full of conviction. She knew what she was going to do.

#sesskag big bang 2021 #sesskag #kagome higurashi #sesshoumaru

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gstqaobc · 3 years

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THE ROYAL FASCINATOR

Friday, March 12/2021

Hello, royal watchers and all those intrigued by what’s going on inside the House of Windsor. This is another special edition of your dose of royal news and analysis.

Reading this online? Sign up here to get this delivered to your inbox.

Janet Davison Royal Expert

The Harry and Meghan interview: Beyond the turmoil

While sifting through everything Prince Harry and Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, had to say to Oprah Winfrey Sunday night, many saw parallels to other troubled times for the Royal Family.

The interview raised concerns particularly around race and mental health, and many found in it reminders of what Harry’s mother, Diana, experienced, as she laid bare the lack of support she felt after her ill-fated marriage to Prince Charles.

But the Diana period, which came as the clock wound down on the 20th century, was hardly the first time of family turmoil.

And in those earlier experiences going back decades — and centuries — there could lie hints of the House of Windsor’s fate after this latest crisis.

“I don’t think the history of this Royal Family, which has been written off so many times, tells you anything other than they know how to survive,” said John Fraser, author of The Secret of the Crown: Canada's Affair with Royalty, and founding president of the Institute for the Study of the Crown in Canada.

“Going back, back, back, there has never been a reign that hasn’t had some domestic problems.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly for an institution that emphasizes keeping calm and carrying on, there have been only the slimmest of hints this week of what will come next.

In a 61-word statement issued by Buckingham Palace Tuesday, the Queen said she and her family were saddened to learn of Harry and Meghan’s experiences, and that issues raised, particularly of race, would be addressed privately by the family.

In response to a question from a reporter while at an engagement at a school in east London on Thursday, Prince William said, ”We're very much not a racist family.”

BBC royal correspondent Sarah Campbell said William could have ignored the question.

“Despite the Queen's statement saying the race issue would be dealt with privately, the prince clearly felt he had to push back on what has become a very public and damaging allegation," Campbell wrote on the BBC website. “Remaining silent, he felt, was not the best option.”

In the interview with Winfrey, Meghan and Harry said there was a conversation — or conversations — with an unnamed family member in which concerns were raised about the colour of the skin of their first child before he was born.

It was perhaps the most damaging moment of the interview for the family, and one that is still surrounded in murkiness.

While Harry told Winfrey later that neither of his grandparents — Queen Elizabeth or Prince Philip — was part of that particular conversation, he refused to say during the interview who was.

“The fact that [Harry’s] on the outs with his father leads everyone to believe it must have been Charles, or possibly William, and until that’s dealt with, it’s this huge problem if they’re going to be future sovereigns,” said Fraser.

He said he finds it “unbelievable” that Charles, the man who walked Meghan halfway down the aisle at her wedding, would be worried about the colour of his grandson’s skin.

“Nothing in his life suggests that he is that callous or stupid,” Fraser said.

Still, it’s not clear who might have said it.

“It’s been left like a timebomb,” said Fraser. “How can [Charles] be the head of the Commonwealth, which has so many Black nations, until this is resolved? It’s a real dilemma.”

Fraser expects we will eventually learn who was involved in the conversation in question. “It’s just the nature of the way things go.”

But Fraser hopes it will be a given a context, and that it will be worked out within the family, “at some point down the road when they’ve got some distance from the immediate hurt that everyone must be feeling at the moment.”

Shola Mos-Shogbamimu, a lawyer and human rights activist in London, says the family’s circumstances are not beyond repair.

“But the point is Buckingham Palace better take this seriously, not come out with any stiff-upper-lip nonsense,” she told Adrienne Arsenault, senior correspondent and co-host of CBC’s The National, this week, before the statement from the palace.

“Nobody’s going to stand for it. Not for the racist comment, not for their lack of support for Meghan’s mental health, suicidal thoughts, not that fact that Prince Charles apparently failed to even speak to his son….

“All of those things should be answered and they should be answered humanely, like the Royal Family is in touch with what the public expects from it.”

Maybe there is at least one more signal of efforts within the family to work things out. While the relationship between William and Harry has been deeply strained, William said Thursday he will be speaking with his brother.

Who can be a prince or princess

Amid the many issues Meghan raised during the interview, one that seemed particularly troubling for her concerned conversations before Archie’s birth.

“They were saying they didn’t want him to be a prince or a princess — not knowing what the gender would be — which would be different from protocol, and that he wasn’t going to receive security,” she said.

That got a lot of people wondering about just what provisions there are for determining who becomes a prince or princess.

Under provisions of a letter patent issued by King George V in 1917, Archie would not at this point in his life be eligible to be a prince.

But his cousin — Prince William’s eldest son, seven-year-old George, who is in direct line to the throne — is a prince. George’s siblings can be a prince or princess, too, under provisions of a letter patent issued in 2012 by Queen Elizabeth, before George was born.

But that’s where it ends for that generation of royal great-grandchildren of the monarch, as things stand now.

“None of Harry’s children automatically get to be a prince except if there’s some reason that the Queen would bestow it on them,” said Fraser.

Grandchildren of a monarch can be princes or princesses, however, and things could change for Archie when his grandfather, Charles, becomes the monarch.

Whether Meghan’s comments might refer to what might happen then isn’t clear.

There is a broad understanding that Charles is looking toward a more streamlined monarchy, with fewer working members.

"I saw that Meghan mentioned that there were plans to narrow eligibility and I imagine that this is a reference to the Prince of Wales's stated view that the size of the Royal Family needs to be reduced," Bob Morris from the constitution unit at University College London told the BBC.

"However, he has not so far as I know given details of how it should be accomplished."

Fascinator readers write

Readers of the Royal Fascinator shared their views in droves after the Winfrey interview. Here’s a sampling of emails and excerpts from longer messages that reflect the wide range of thoughts offered on Harry, Meghan and what they said on Sunday.

From Linda: “I was saddened by the interview. It could have been a great opportunity for the royals to move forward and acknowledge mental health issues, but The Firm refused to take that route. Shocked to hear how the men in grey suits direct so much of the agenda.”

From Susan: “Unsubstantiated accusations are very damaging. It’s easy to allege things were said and then refuse to say who said them. Then it’s just a case of he said, she said. But the damage is done.”

From Charlie: “I feel for Harry and Meghan and I don't blame them one bit for the decision they made for leaving the U.K. and the Royal Family, in search for a more peaceful, sane and healthy lifestyle and mental health. I have never been a royal watcher or a fan of all the pomp that goes into it. I personally think Canada should abolish all that nonsense as it relates to a Governor General as the representative of the Queen in Canada (who is still our head of state). Canada should maintain close ties with the U.K., for sure, as partners, allies and friends, but this monarchy BS is a waste of taxpayer dollars.”

From Margaret: “I am still grappling with the intent of the interview and tell-all. And what is to be gained by the couple? Probably more paparazzi and Hollywood-like behaviours…. The constant referral back to Diana gives one pause for thought as well. Yes, Harry was totally traumatized by his mother’s death…. That said, although there are some similarities in press and media reporting, Diana was very young and naive when she joined ‘The Firm,’ whereas Harry and Meagan were well into their 30s when they married and should have known full well what could happen…. I do not mean to downplay or negate the comments on race/skin colour. Hopefully there will be some conversations around that at the palace level.”

From Tina: “I felt so much of this interview resonated with the Diana era. It left me with many questions, but mostly: How on earth can a parent stop taking calls from their child? How on earth can a parent not want to keep their family safe? How on earth can a parent allow the words of racism to be spoken amongst anyone, never mind their own? How on earth can a parent knowingly watch your child go through such pain and not reach out?... I applaud the two of them for coming out to the world and letting people be reminded, once again, of a dated monarchy who cares more about how they are perceived to the world than that of their own. One can only hope for Meghan and Harry to have a life of joy with their little family and always be safe .... and perhaps maybe Harry's wish that 'time heals all' comes true and his family come to their senses.”

From Paul: “Unless I misheard Meghan, she mentioned that she was not informed/prepared with the protocols of ‘The Firm.’ I find this difficult to believe. She is an intelligent, successful woman with a mind of her own.... I am not naive enough to not know there would be some racial problems. But I do believe too much emphasis was placed on the racial issue. As for protection being dropped for Harry, why not? He is in a foreign country, by choice…. With all Harry and Meghan's money, they should be paying for their own protection. Remember, they optioned out of the U.K. Nevertheless, I wish them the best in their endeavours.”

From Anna: “I do not feel this interview will damage the Royal Family. There are differences of opinion in all families. I do not feel the whole Royal Family should be painted with the same brush. This interview will be so hard on the Queen. My heart goes out to her.”

We’ll continue to include comments from readers in future editions of the Royal Fascinator

Royal reads

1. Harry and Meghan’s interview might have some thinking it’s time for Canada to retire the Queen and its connection to the monarchy, but it wouldn’t be that simple to do, writes CBC’s Aaron Wherry.

2. Harry talked of an “invisible contract” between the media and the Royal Family. The BBC took a closer look at what it is.

3. Journalist and TV presenter Piers Morgan left British broadcaster ITV after long-running criticism of Meghan that reached a crescendo after the interview with Winfrey. [CBC

Cheers

I’m always happy to hear from you. Send your ideas, comments, feedback and notes to [email protected]. Problems with the newsletter? Please let me know about any typos, errors or glitches.

GSTQAOBC🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

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Written In The Stars XCVIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Updated: I will be dropping the next few chapters this week, so stay tuned -Danny

Words: 4,487

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Final Task.

"He really trusts Snape, even though he knows he was a Death Eater?" Ron asked.

"Yes," said Harry.

"Rita Skeeter," Hermione mumbled rubbing her forehead with both palms.

"How can you be worrying about her now?" said Ron.

"I'm not worrying about her. I'm just thinking... remember what she said to me in the Three Broomsticks? 'I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl.' This is what she meant, isn't it? She reported his trial, she knew he'd passed information to the Death Eaters. And Winky too, remember... 'Ludo Bagman's a bad wizard.' Mr Crouch would have been furious he got off, he would have talked about it at home."

"Yeah, but Bagman didn't pass information on purpose, did he? And Fudge reckons Madame Maxime attacked Crouch?"

"Yeah, but he's only saying that because Crouch disappeared near the Beauxbatons carriage."

"Makes no sense because then all her students were there to see, and Hagrid as well, unless he thinks Hagrid's unreliable too..." Mel added.

"We never thought of her, did we?" said Ron. "Mind you, she's definitely got giant blood, and she doesn't want to admit it —"

"Of course she doesn't! Look what happened to Hagrid when Rita found out about his mother. Look at Fudge, jumping to conclusions about her, just because she's part giant. Who needs that sort of prejudice? I'd probably say I had big bones if I knew that's what I'd get for telling the truth."

"I'm hardly a supporter of liars," Mel sighed, "but I'm with 'Mione in this one, the wizarding community can be pretty judgy when they want to."

"We haven't done any practising!" Hermione gave a start, looking at the time on her wristwatch. "We were going to do the Impediment Curse! We'll have to really get down to it tomorrow! Come on, Harry, you need to get some sleep."

Hermione and Ron stood up as well as them, then Mel stopped, watching them climb up the stairs. Harry noticed and stayed behind as well, giving her a questioning look.

"I wonder," She said quietly. "How different our lives would be if any of those things had never happened... D'you think it'd be completely different from what it is now?"

"Maybe," Harry shrugged. "My parents would be alive, we wouldn't be neighbors..."

"We would still be friends, though, wouldn't we? But maybe not best friends," She frowned. "Is it wrong that I'm a little glad that's not the case?"

"No," He smiled. "But we're not exactly friends, are we?"

"You know what I mean," She mumbled.

Harry got closer and kissed her temple. Having no height difference really was convenient for them. He finally mumbled a goodnight and left, Mel soon following his example and going to her bedroom.

"You're supposed to be studying for your exams as well, you don't need to put all your efforts into helping me," Harry told them one afternoon after lunch. "I don't mind practising on my own for a while, you know?"

"Don't worry about it," Hermione said, "at least we'll get top marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts. We'd never have found out about all these hexes in class."

"Good training for when we're all Aurors," said Ron casually.

Mel and Harry shared an amused look.

"Hermione's right," She added. "I don't do any of these in my lessons either, it's more of an academic thing, most unusual when I do practical magic. I read and read until my eyes get all heavy. I know a lot of things about magic but it's not quite the same as knowing how to do it."

"I bet it's ten times easier than this," Harry groaned, cleaning his robes after falling on his butt for the third time thanks to a hex he hadn't been able to avoid.

"You're still doing really well, though," Hermione said, reading the list she'd made to make sure Harry had a full training. "Some of these are bound to come in handy."

"Come and look at this," Ron was looking out the window, squinting. "What's Malfoy doing?"

They all huddled up in front of the window. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were sitting down the shadow of a big willow tree, Malfoy was holding his hand up to his mouth and speaking into it, the other two were looking around with silly smirks on their faces.

"He looks like he's using a walkie-talkie," said Harry.

"He can't be– I've told you, those sorts of things don't work around Hogwarts," Hermione shrugged it off, quickly losing interest. "Come on, Harry, let's try that Shield Charm again."

"Look at this," Harry said in a tone of exasperation, he was reading Sirius' letter to Mel. "'If Voldemort is really getting stronger again, my priority is to ensure your safety. He cannot hope to lay hands on you while you are under Dumbledore's protection, but all the same, take no risks: Concentrate on getting through that maze safely, and then we can turn our attention to other matters.' Makes me sound like I have no control!"

"He's just stressed like we all are," Mel responded lazily, barely looking up from her Charms essay. "Give it a month and he'll be back to his usual self, joking about eating rats and all..."

"I already did all I could to prepare myself," Harry folded the letter and prompted his head on one hand, watching her as she continued writing. "The task is tomorrow, I don't think there's anything else I can do..."

"You sound extremely calm about it," She said.

"I just think that whatever comes, at least this time I'm prepared. Besides, it's the end of the tournament, which means..." He raised his free hand and grabbed a lock of her hair, playing with it like he often did. "It's all going to be over, and Skeeter will be out of here."

"We won't have to worry about our love lives being published for everyone to see..." She nodded.

"And I'll be able to take you to Hogsmeade on a proper date and all..." He smiled, his mind drifting to a brighter future.

"What a gentleman," Mel put down her quill and admired her work with pride. "I'm all done! No more homework!" She looked up to meet his gaze. She frowned a little, slightly confused. "Is everything okay?"

"Espectacular," Harry smiled broadly, releasing the lock of hair and kissing her cheek.

"Snuffles sent me a good-luck card!" Harry said, sounding delighted.

She leaned closer to examine it. It was a piece of parchment with a paw print that Mel found adorable, Harry seemed to like it as well.

"Emily didn't send anything though, d'you think she dislikes me now because of all those articles?" He asked jokingly.

"Oh yes, I reckon she must hate you for being such a conceited little git," Mel snorted.

Hermione choked on her drink as she held onto the Daily Prophet an owl delivered to her a few seconds earlier.

"What?" asked her three friends.

"Nothing..." Hermione tried to hide the paper, but Ron was quicker.

"No way," He breathed. "Not today. That old cow..."

"What?" Harry insisted. "Rita Skeeter again?"

"Bad news?" Mel raised a brow.

"No," Ron said, hastily pushing the paper out of sight.

"It's about me, isn't it?" said Harry.

"No," said Ron, but his voice broke a little in the end.

Just as if on queue Draco Malfoy shouted from across the Great Hall:

"Hey, Potter! Potter! How's your head? You feeling all right? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?"

"Oh, bloody hell," Mel frowned. "What is it now?"

"Let me see it," Harry turned to Ron. "Give it here."

Harry took the paper from a very reluctant Ron. A picture of him was displayed on the front page, with the title right under it:

HARRY POTTER "DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS"

The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is unstable and possibly dangerous, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harry Potter's strange behaviour, which casts doubts upon his suitability to compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts School.

Potter, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (a relic of the curse with which You-Know-Who attempted to kill him). On Monday last, midway through a Divination lesson, your Daily Prophet reporter witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting too badly to continue studying.

It is possible, say top experts at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, that Potter's brain was affected by the attack inflicted upon him by You-Know-Who, and that his insistence that the scar is still hurting is an expression of his deep-seated confusion.

"He might even be pretending," said one specialist. "This could be a plea for attention."

The Daily Prophet, however, has unearthed worrying facts about Harry Potter that Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has carefully concealed from the wizarding public.

"Potter can speak Parseltongue," reveals Draco Malfoy, a Hogwarts fourth year. "There were a lot of attacks on students a couple of years ago, and most people thought Potter was behind them after they saw him lose his temper at a dueling club and set a snake on another boy. It was all hushed up, though. But he's made friends with werewolves and giants too. We think he'd do anything for a bit of power."

Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, has long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the most famous Parselmouth of our times is none other than You-Know-Who himself. A member of the Dark Force Defense League, who wished to remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any wizard who could speak Parseltongue "as worthy of investigation. Personally, I would be highly suspicious of anybody who could converse with snakes, as serpents are often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic, and are historically associated with evildoers." Similarly, "anyone who seeks out the company of such vicious creatures as werewolves and giants would appear to have a fondness for violence."

Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether a boy such as this should be allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some fear that Potter might resort to the Dark Arts in his desperation to win the tournament, the third task of which takes place this evening.

"Gone off me a bit, hasn't she?" said Harry casually as Mel finished reading, to which she only sighed.

"How did she know your scar hurt in Divination?" Ron asked. "There's no way she was there, there's no way she could've heard —"

"The window was open," said Harry. "I opened it to breathe."

"You were at the top of North Tower!" Hermione exclaimed. "Your voice couldn't have carried all the way down to the grounds!"

"Well, you're the one who's supposed to be researching magical methods of bugging!" said Harry. "You tell me how she did it!"

"No idea," Mel shook her head. "Unless she's learned to train insects and have them all around the school, which would give the bugging a whole new meaning..."

"Bugging," said Hermione, deep in thought. "It's like... like..."

"Are you all right?" said Ron.

"Yes... I've had an idea– I think I know... because then no one would be able to see... even Moody... and she'd have been able to get onto the window ledge... but she's not allowed... she's definitely not allowed... I think we've got her! Just give me two seconds in the library — just to make sure!" She stood up at once and left the Great Hall in a hurry.

"Oi! We've got our History of Magic exam in ten minutes–! Blimey," Ron turned back to them, "she must really hate that Skeeter woman to risk missing the start of an exam. What're you going to do in Binns's class, Harry — read again?"

"S'pose so," Harry shrugged.

"I wish I'd know what she found," Mel said, looking out to where Hermione had gone. "Maybe if I go after her..." But her thoughts were interrupted as Professor McGonagall came to them.

"Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber of the Hall after breakfast, Miss Dumbledore, you and Flint are needed at the entrance now," Before Mel could object she added, "Your teacher has been notified and knows you'll be arriving at your examination a bit late, as well as Flint. He'll give you extra time."

"But the task's not till tonight!" Harry's eyes widened.

"I'm aware of that, Potter. The champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them."

Harry and Mel stared at her in disbelief after she left.

"She doesn't expect the Dursleys to turn up, does she?" Harry asked in horror.

"Dunno," said Ron. "I'd better hurry, I'm going to be late for Binns. See you later..."

"I'd better go too," Mel sighed, getting up as well. "I wouldn't worry if I were you, I doubt the Dursleys would have the nerve to show up." She kissed the top of his head, Harry gave her an anxious smile and she walked away a bit reluctantly. At the entrance she was met with a lovely sight:

Mrs Weasley, Bill, and her own mother were there, next to them were Mr and Mrs Diggory, a woman that looked a lot like Fleur along with Fleur's little sister, and two wizards that could only be Krum's parents.

"Mum!" She ran up to the woman and hugged her tightly, doing the same with Mrs Weasley and Bill. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't miss the last task now, can we?" Her mother smiled. "I tried to convince Remus to come as well, but he thought that people wouldn't react kindly after the whole scandal of last year."

Mel's attention got caught on three figures on the other side of the hall. Erick was standing next to his cousin, and on Jo's side, there was a very old man on a wheelchair. They seemed to be arguing with him.

"I'll be with you in a moment," She told her mother and the Weasleys. "Hold on..."

She walked up to Erick shyly and cleared her throat, the boy gave a start and turned to look at her.

"Yes?" He asked in a grumpy voice.

"We have to take the families to the chamber... is everything okay?"

"No– Yes," He looked over his shoulder and back at her. "My Grandad had a relapse yesterday but insisted on coming anyway. Joseph and I had to force him to sit so he doesn't tire himself out, he's throwing a tantrum."

"We can always send him back via floo," Joseph stepped in, half-joking. "Hi, Mel!"

"Hi," Mel beamed, she couldn't help but feel a little excited every time he'd talk to her.

"Well well," Mr Flint spoke over his grandson's shoulder. "You must be Miss Dumbledore!"

"Good morning Sir," She tilted her head to see him.

"My, you're pretty!" He laughed loudly, Mel found it endearing. "I see the resemblance between you and your father– Great man he was, he used to visit my store often. How's your mother?"

"She's right over there," She pointed over her shoulder. "Came to wish Harry good luck, he's my friend, you see."

"I've heard," He looked at his grandson with a knowing smile. "Oh! Haven't introduced myself, have I? Eliot Flint at your service dear girl– You've made quite the impression in my family. Erick's told me about you, and Joseph mentions you at least twice in all his letters!"

"Oh!" Mel didn't know how to respond to that, so instead, she looked at the boys.

Joseph spoke first, noticing the way Erick was positively glaring at his Grandfather.

"You're a great host," He admitted, "I dare say better than my cousin..."

"Thanks," Erick replied with a scoff.

"Well, it's true!" Joseph laughed. "I barely got to talk to you during the school year, and even then you weren't much of a talker. I'm surprised you even mentioned Mel to our Grandad– Mind you, Mel, he doesn't talk about anyone at all, sometimes I suspect he fancies–"

"I talk enough!" He snapped. "Now, if you excuse us we have to take the families to the chamber– You two stay here. Let's go..." Erick grabbed Mel's arm and pulled her away.

"You know," She chuckled, "there's nothing wrong with caring about people."

"I care about people," He replied. "Which is why I feel like I've aged five years this term."

She laughed, stopping in the middle of the large group. They all turned to look at her, which caused her to feel a bit self-conscious. Luckily for her, Erick had no problems with talking to crowds.

"If you could follow us to the chamber, you'll see your kids in a moment," He said in his best formal and controlled voice. Mel got closer to her mum.

"Harry'll be ever so pleased about you coming! He was dreading the idea of his aunt and uncle..."

"The day a Dursley sets a foot in this castle hell will freeze," Her mother laughed.

"I just couldn't miss a chance to come back, really," Bill explained. "All is exactly as I remember..."

Once in the chamber, the families divided into smaller groups. The champions walked in, all except for Harry. Erick left to present his exams and she was about to go as well when he came in, looking around curiously before his eyes landed on the Weasleys and her mum. Then he approached them with a broad smile.

"Surprise!" Mrs Weasley said once he got to them. "Thought we'd come and watch you, Harry!"

"You all right? Charlie wanted to come, but he couldn't get time off. He said you were incredible against the Horntail."

"My little boy!" Emily pulled Harry in for a hug. "You've been so brave this whole year! All the things you've done– never been more proud of you!"

"This is really nice of you," Harry muttered. "I thought for a moment — the Dursleys —"

"Hmm," said Mrs Weasley sternly.

"Sorry for that," Emily laughed, finally letting go. "But the Dursleys won't get to call themselves your family on these grounds as long as I'm alive."

Mel watched them interact, in a way, they were her little family. She couldn't wait to tell her mother about the recent events regarding her relationship with the boy.

"It's great being back here," said Bill. "Haven't seen this place for five years. Is that picture of the mad knight still around? Sir Cadogan?"

"Oh yeah," said Harry and Mel at the same time.

"And the Fat Lady?"

"She was here in my time," mentioned Mrs Weasley. "She gave me such a telling off one night when I got back to the dormitory at four in the morning —"

"What were you doing out of your dormitory at four in the morning?" Bill gaped.

"Your father and I had been for a nighttime stroll. He got caught by Apollyon Pringle — he was the caretaker in those days — your father's still got the marks."

"Fancy giving us a tour?" said Bill, looking at Mel and Harry.

"Yeah, okay," said Harry.

"Oh, I can't," She pouted, "my exams..."

"How about we walk you to class?" Emily offered. "This place is full of memories! I'd love to see the halls one more time..."

As they moved to the door, Amos Diggory spoke to Harry.

"There you are, are you?" He sneered. "Bet you're not feeling quite as full of yourself now Cedric's caught you up on points, are you?"

"What?" Harry stopped.

"Ignore him," said Cedric, giving his father a look. "He's been angry ever since Rita Skeeter's article about the Triwizard Tournament — you know when she made out you were the only Hogwarts champion."

"Didn't bother to correct her, though, did he?" said Amos Diggory. "Still... you'll show him, Ced. Beaten him once before, haven't you?"

"Rita Skeeter goes out of her way to cause trouble, Amos!" Mrs Weasley said. "I would have thought you'd know that, working at the Ministry!"

"Honestly Amos, believing a word she says it's the same as asking to a dog what he thinks about the weather," Emily added.

Mel didn't need the extra time, in the end, she finished her exam at the same time as the rest of the group. Ron asked her if Harry's relatives were in fact there and she answered with a mysterious 'you'll see'.

When they went to the Great Hall for lunch, Ron was surprised to see his brother and mum there.

"Mum — Bill! What're you doing here?" He looked at Mel's mum. "Hi, Em!"

"Come to watch Harry in the last task!" said Mrs Weasley. "I must say, it makes a lovely change, not having to cook. How was your exam?"

"Oh... okay. Couldn't remember all the goblin rebels' names, so I invented a few. It's all right," Ron said to calm her mother's spirits, "they're all called stuff like Bodrod the Bearded and Urg the Unclean; it wasn't hard."

Hermione turned up a bit later, Harry tried to find out what she'd discovered about Skeeter, however, before he could finish his sentence Hermione shut him up, her attention moving to the mothers of her friends.

"Hello, Hermione," said Mrs Weasley, rather coldly.

"Hello," said Hermione shyly.

"Mrs Weasley, you didn't believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in Witch Weekly, did you? Because Hermione's not my girlfriend," Harry was quick to point out.

"Oh! No — of course, I didn't!" Mrs Weasley blushed lightly.

"Was it all rubbish, though?" Emily asked pointedly.

"What'd you mean?" Mel asked.

"Dunno, something about you and that Diggory boy," The woman fought back a smirk, "and a french boy..."

Mel inhaled sharply and choked on her food. She shook her head energetically as Hermione patted her back harshly.

"That was rubbish too, yes," Harry added, kicking Ron's leg under the table so he wouldn't speak.

"Okay then," Emily replied. "Not that I wouldn't support you, but if my daughter's dating someone, I'd hate to find out through the Daily Prophet."

"Oh, yes," Mel glared at her mother playfully. "I'm well aware of how invested you are in my love life."

Emily winked at her without saying anything, Harry gave her a questioning look but Mel shook her head, brushing it off like it was nothing.

The way the Emily’s eyes shone throughout the day helped Harry picture her at fifteen-years-old, walking around the castle with his parents and Matthew, much like Mel: happy and beautiful. Carefree, with dreams to spare.

Mel's exams went by without any troubles, and by the time they had the feast, she sat next to him, holding his hand under the table while no one else was looking in an attempt to ease his nerves.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Dumbledore said. "In five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr Bagman down to the stadium now."

As they got up, the Gryffindors broke into applause for Harry; the Weasleys, Emily and Hermione wished him good luck, and they finally left the Great Hall to enter the quiet evening.

"How're your nerves?" Erick asked her. "I must say you're keeping it together better than before..."

"I've grown used to the knot in my stomach," She shrugged. "After the tenth time, this turns into a routine."

He chuckled lowly.

"My Grandad liked you, apparently you reminded him a lot to one of his girlfriends."

"Oh," Mel frowned, "...thanks?"

"I didn't know how to respond to that either."

"I think he's nice," She said. "Very lovely."

"Yeah," Erick replied, a look of fondness betraying his usual cold demeanour.

"Hey," Harry quickly caught up with them, looking considerably more nervous than before. "You remember what the jelly-leg jinx counter spell was? Because I keep trying to remember and–"

"Glasses," Mel scowled. "Don't do that, if you keep repeating things over and over you'll get them all mixed up!"

"Focus on the fact that you got here in a quite respectable place," Erick added. "Unexpected, but definitely something to be proud of."

"Er, thanks," Harry said.

"You just pull through this one, then it'll be over," She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "You'll be okay."

He nodded, his eyes fixed on the tall maze ahead. Erick and Mel got separated again, the boy had to guide the students to their seats making sure there were no empty spaces and Mel was with the champions.

She walked past Moody and brushed past him, a wave of something hit her and she stopped in place, feeling extremely dizzy.

"Is everything all right, Miss Dumbledore?" Moody asked, eyeing her up in a calculating way.

"I..." She stared at him, wondering why the feeling reminded her so much to Riddle's diary. "Yeah... just nervous, I think."

Moody nodded once and kept walking, Mel did the same.

"This way!" Erick told the students as he walked backwards. "McLaggen, if you can muster a bit of brain to pay attention to what I'm saying, there's a seat right behind you– No, you idiot, I said behind–!"

"Hello?" Emily said to the boy. "You may not know me, but I think you've been reading my books all summer... I'm Emily Sultens."

Erick's cheeks turned pink at the statement. He cleared his throat and raised a stiff hand to shake hers.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," He said a bit hurriedly.

"Just wanted to let you know, if there's anything we can do to help– more books, or even have you over a few days during summer... I'm happy to help, kid."

"Thanks," He replied clumsily. "I should- uh, I should go back..."

"Sure," Emily smiled, moving out of his way. "See you..."

Erick didn't respond, he merely nodded and walked back to where the champions and his teachers were.

"We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze," Professor McGonagall explained. "If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?"

The champions nodded.

"Off you go, then!" said Bagman.

Mel gave Harry one last hug before leaving.

"Good luck," She said. "I'll be looking after you."

"I know," He smiled. "You always are."

"And I'm brilliant at it," The girl grinned, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before finally stepping back.

"Ready?" Erick asked her as they were to part in opposite directions around the maze.

"I think so," Mel replied, holding onto her wand tightly.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world

#hp fanfic #twoidiots writing #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

26 notes · View notes

codevassie · 4 years

Note

i've got a request! prinxiety fantasy au. roman became a prince after making a deal with a magical creature (that can be a side but also can remain unnamed, whatever works for you). the deal was: roman would become prince but in exchange, the creature would take his true love when roman would meet them. so roman was always careful not to fall in love with anyone. that worked until he met virgil. aaand i leave the rest up to you! i hope this makes sense lol

CV: Sorry it’s so long and also not long enough and also really late. Thank you so much for your patience! My mind would not stop coming up with ideas for this fic but I wrangled it in enough to get this out. Hope you like it, An!

CW: Weapons, Trauma, Injury [Edit: Angst, Unhappy Ending]

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Prince Roman was kind and fair to all who knew him. It was uncanny to his citizens how Disney their prince was. He glowed in all ways–always smiling, exceedingly handsome, eyes gleaming with pride.

He was also a bachelor, sworn to it almost like a monk. He loved to flirt and would dance with many a handsome man; Roman was no stranger to romance and collected kisses like precious stones. He was not one for staying with one person, sweetly turning down those who came back, wanted more. There was guilt in his eyes, but the prince never wavered.

He was determined to rule on his own, with only advisors to lean on and citizens to give his love. This was something that had never happened before, but their kingdom had also never had a prince like Roman before.

Since the day their prince had been crowned heir to the throne by the childless king and queen, things had been very different in their kingdom. Royalty did not have to be blood, and a king did not need a queen, or any spouse at all.

Roman did not want to marry. And no one would have batted an eye at this–but the prince did not seem to want anything at all. Full of love, he had no one to give it. Friendly, but lacked friends. It was a constant source of gossip around the castle–why their beloved prince insisted on being alone.

But the prince knew what he was doing. Roman knew well the dangers of growing close to others.

He didn’t regret the decision he made. As prince, he could make a difference; he had somewhere he belonged. A mother and father who cared. Citizens he adored, and adored him in turn. People to care for, to fight for. Roman now had more than he ever hoped in his once hopeless life.

Most importantly, Roman had his brother back. That was worth more than anything Roman could have gained or given. Worth more than his very life.

So, no. He didn’t regret it. If he had the choice, he’d always go back and face those wild eyes, those scales and wicked lies for the chance to have this.

Whoever he’d meant to love one day would have to find someone else.

-/-

“How are you today, Remus?“

Remus hummed. Roman knew that translated to ‘not very well.’

“Okay,” he said calmly. He moved over into the brightly lit room to where his brother sat at the window. Roman sat across from Remus and said nothing else. Today wasn’t a talking day.

So Roman sat and let his nerves calm, his mind wander like his brother’s must have been. He couldn’t imagine what sort of things Remus saw–flashbacks from the hills and the caves and the fear. Roman grew restless, and he couldn’t imagine how Remus did it for days on end, jolted into another reality that existed in his head, in the past.

He passed a lot of his days like this, sitting quietly by his brother’s side. Probably not enough though. Never enough to help. But it was hard to balance his time now that he was prince, always something more to do, something he could do to help, to plan, to sign, to consider. It was a lot.

But at least they weren’t terrified every day would be their last.

At least Remus was with him again, safe.

“I miss Dee,” Remus surprised Roman by speaking up. Roman looked over, but his brother hadn’t moved. His gaze was towards the hills.

There was nothing Roman could say to that. He stood reluctantly, taking a glance towards the horizon himself, before stepping back. “Sorry I can’t stay very long today.” It had only been twenty minutes Roman noted by the clock on the mantle, but Remus didn’t seem phased. “I’ll come eat dinner with you tonight, though,” Roman offered. Still, nothing. “Alright. Bye, Remus.”

Roman stepped out, careful to not make any loud noises as he shut the door. Days like this were the reason Remus’ room was far away from the hustle and bustle of the castle. The noise was too much for him. There were still plenty of people around to attend to him though, to make sure he didn’t get up to too much trouble during the times he was lucid.

That didn’t stop Roman from stepping away and quietly knocking his head on the opposite wall. Forehead supporting him, Roman sighed, trying to piece himself back together. Once he had built himself up, able to give a winning smile and a confident gait, Roman picked himself up and squared his shoulders.

A prince had very little time to spare already, and he had used what he had to visit with his brother.

Winding through the halls, Roman made his way back to the front study, where his advisor and a handful of guards waited. When he opened the doors, he shot them all his winning smile. “Are we all ready?”

It took them no time at all to get to town, then just a little further to the square, which was under construction. It was a smaller project, but one that Roman loved: a park, with room for community gardening, a playground with outdoor instruments, a couple pieces of exercise equipment, and a small stage for community theater.

It was important to him, but it was something he rarely had the time to see into fruition. There was more pressing matters in the kingdom that Roman had to oversee.: discussions to meditate, economic policies to study, corruption to dig into. When Roman became a prince, he’d known it would be a tough job, but he had never expected what seemed like such a nice kingdom on the outside to have so much else on the inside.

It was exhausting, but this park was where Roman hoped to make a positive influence. He barely had the time for it, but he made the time for it. It was usually what kept him awake at night in his office, going over budgets and blueprints.

He hadn’t been to the site for a month.

When the carriage pulled up, Roman jumped out, guards already on his tail. He didn’t wait for them, though, striding straight towards the ring of architects and construction crew at one side. A quick glance around told Roman they were making decent headway on the tiny amphitheater.

Looking back, he took stock in what he would be dealing with. The kind architect was there, so he’d have to do his best to steer clear. Roman was a sucker for nice guys. The smart one was there too. Damn it; double the threat.

“Hello, Shelby, Logan, David, Patton, Christie,” he greeted the ones he knew by name. “How is everything going?”

Shelby, the team leader, stepped forward, giving a kind smile. “Moving forward at a considerable pace, my prince,” she said, and, from there, they dived in. The architects pointed to blueprints and talked about estimated times for finishing different aspects, as well as possible obstacles and needed materials. They talked for half an hour before they were talking in circles again, and Roman knew he needed to draw a line and make a retreat.

“It sounds like you all are doing splendidly and have things well under control. I would say continue forward with how you’re doing. I trust you to make the right calls.” His smile was wide, and he was beginning to feel the line of business and friendly failing.

All Roman wanted to do was share jokes with Patton. Listen to Logan tell him about the book he was reading. Even hear about Shelby’s family–though she was hardly a threat to the curse inside Roman. Still, Roman felt wrong for staying around, for getting near anyone with the danger he posed.

Roman needed to get somewhere safe. He needed just a breath of fresh air–somewhere without pretense, where he wasn’t constantly tottling between unnecessary rudeness and letting his traitorous heart do what it does and fall far too quickly.

He had always fallen fast and hard, always one for all or nothing. Never at a mere glance, no. He may be a romantic, but love at first sight simply wasn’t real. Deep longing at first sight was something Roman was prone to, though.

But Roman was careful. Never would he let an innocent soul pay for his deeds. If the price he had to pay was his love, then he would simply never fall in love.

And, since love at first sight wasn’t a thing, Roman could simply stay away from anyone he might have liked. If Logan’s smart words made him blush, if Patton’s puns made him giggle-

Off Roman went. If he didn’t stay around them, he couldn’t fall in love with them. Easy enough.

That may have been a reason Roman rarely made his way to the park construction or spent too much time at any of his projects. He cycled through advisors. He exchanged polite greetings with guards and nothing else. He was an amiable prince, who reached out to his citizens, but he couldn’t afford to be too friendly, to get attached.

He knew he could be better. Without this fear, he could be so much better. He’d be friends with everyone he knew, not acquaintances. He’d be a personal ruler, not a distant one.

He couldn’t risk the lives of his citizens though.

So, at the nearest chance, Roman ducked away. The others invited him to coffee, but he declined.

Instead, he went somewhere he’d normally never go. He marched into the library, waltzed straight up to the most infuriating person he knew.

Not even Roman was hopeless enough to fall for Virgil.

“My prince,” the librarian greeted lazily, not even standing from his slumped position across the desk. “What can I do for you today?“

He picked up a pen and scrawled across a paper, deigning to not even look Roman in the eye. Whatever pleasantness Roman had felt upon seeing a familiar, unexpectant face, soured at the blatant rudeness.

This callousness was what had sealed the deal for Roman in the first place though. The absolute zero percent chance that Roman could like, much less love, this man. Roman never thought he could hate one of his own citizens, but this guy… He was the worst.

Roman could have never fallen in love with someone so… Virgil. So condescending and sarcastic and pessimistic. Virgil brought with him a stormy cloud of hatred everywhere he went. The mere thought of being around him was deplorable.

Which made him perfect.

“I just came to see your lovely face, my chemical woe-mance,” Roman said breezily. He had taken to maliciously flirting with the library assistant. It satisfied both his need to flirt with someone and his abhorrence of the man’s face.

And tone.

And personality.

And the way he pointed out every security detail his guards had missed by walking in there.

And how he always pointed out the measures Roman was slow to take with his policies, and ones that he missed, redirecting Roman’s attention to needed areas.

And when his hair fell in his eyes because, damn it, Roman wasn’t blind.

And when he laughed at something because he wasn’t horrible all the time and those were the times Roman panicked the most because shit did he mess up by letting himself talk to Virgil so much-

And his fashion sense was also horrible, so there.

But, of course, Roman was above such things. If the gloomy broody wanted to stoop, Roman would not-

“Forget how to say your own name again?” Virgil asked, and Roman stopped in his tracks, shooting him a confused look. “Hate to break it to you, but Roman doesn’t have a W.”

Roman’s face lit up red and he straightened faster than a cat struck by lightning.

“I am your prince,” Roman said, hands curling into fists. The guards behind him didn’t react, however. By this point, they were all used to Roman and Virgil’s arguing.

They thought it was ‘banter.’ Roman often reminded them it was a verbal battle of wits. They asked why he kept coming back.

He never answered that.

“I don’t need reminding every time you’re here, my prince,” Virgil rolled his eyes. It was ironic how the honorific fit in his mouth, like a bad taste.

“Don’t call me that,” Roman snapped. Virgil raised a brow.

“What do you expect me to call you then?” he asked. “Your excellency? Your highness? General pain in my ass?”

“You make all of those sound like ‘general pain in my ass.’” Roman shot back with fire.

“Then what?” Virgil crossed his arms.

Roman spoke without thinking. “My name.”

One of the guards coughed behind him. Virgil looked stunned.

“You want me to call you…” he said, and all anger had dissipated. If Roman had known this was all it would take to knock Virgil off his high horse, he would have done it so much sooner.

“Yes,” Roman said, feeling awfully proud of himself. “Call me Roman.”

Another cough behind him. What was it with the guards today? He hoped no one was coming down with anything.

“Roman?” Virgil asked, and it was said quickly, like he was still shocked at everything going on. This, however, is where Roman realized his mistake.

His name on Virgil’s tongue did not, in fact, sound like ‘general pain in my ass.‘

His name sounded….

Softer.

Sweeter.

Like a melody he’d never heard,

And one he’d kill to hear again.

Roman was suddenly hit with a sadness so unmistakable it was as if it had always lived in him. Something that felt lonely, something that felt like… goodbye.

Goodbye to this. Goodbye to the only person he had left that saw him as something that wasn’t a prince, or a stranger.

Oh gods, not Virgil too.

Roman straightened up, clearing his throat suddenly. “Um, yes?” he said, voice coming out squeaky. He cleared it again. “I mean, yes. Yes. Of course. If you’re going to insist on butchering everything else…”

“Might as well butcher the real thing?” Virgil asked, and he finally broke out of his shock to snicker. Roman’s heart thumped.

Fuck.

“Yeah, well. I actually have to go now, but it was nice seeing you and-”

“Nice seeing me?” Virgil asked, thrown off guard by Roman’s sudden departure. Roman hadn’t been there five minutes, but he had to get out of there.

“As ever. Terrible to see you as always, hot topic, and, if you’d just excuse me-” Roman was backing away, making his way to the door. He assumed the guards would follow.

“Hot topic…” Virgil seemed to be asking, but Roman didn’t give an answer.

“See ya!” were his final words before he ducked out.

Roman paid no mind to the knowing glances his guards shared behind him as he rushed off to the carriage.

He could only think of the heart in his chest.

And the noose it could lasso around Virgil.

-/-

“It’s not Virgil, right?” Roman asked pacing around his brother’s room. “Anyone but Virgil, surely.”

Remus continued to look out the window, mind probably elsewhere.

“It wouldn’t be. Virgil is… Virgil.” Roman shook his head. “He’s Virgil.”

“Virgil?” Remus spoke up, but he didn’t look at Roman. Maybe he was present, just a bit.

Roman nodded, pacing again to the other side of the room. “I can’t see him again. That’s it. It’s too dangerous. Even if there’s absolutely no way I’d fall for that guy, I can’t risk it.”

Remus turned Roman’s way, eyes looking troubled. Roman’s mind was spinning out of control.

“But it couldn’t be Virgil. I wouldn’t fall for him. I can still talk to him. It’ll be fine, right?”

Roman paused, thinking through his words before groaning.

“Oh my gods, I want to talk to him!” he lamented, then sat down heavily on his brother’s bed. Remus continued to watch him, looking for all the world like there was a puzzle in front of him, very close to being solved.

“Remus, what am I going to do?” Roman asked, covering his face. “I like Virgil.”

“Virgil,” Remus mumbled.

“I can’t ever see him again. This is the end. We were never even friends! He was the asshole in the library. That’s it. That’s all he’ll ever be. And, somehow, I like him. What the fuck, heart? What the actual fuck?”

“Virgil,” Remus repeated, brows furrowing. Something was there, but Roman was too distracted to consider it.

“Gosh, but I can see it now. He’s got the warmest brown eyes to go with his shit personality. He’s so sarcastic. He actually makes me laugh. How dare he?! How dare he make me like him and all his assholeness?”

Roman stood from the bed. One look Remus’ way and he immediately regretted everything.

“Rem? What’s wrong?” he rushed to his brother, who had the most distressed look on his face, fingers sparking green. Roman folded his hands over them, not minding the slight sting. It was better than someone walking in and seeing the magic. “Remus?” Roman asked again, kneeling before his brother.

Remus blinked. Looked down at his hands and frowned. “Sorry, Ro,” he said, then looked back at the window. Whatever he’d been thinking, it was gone. Roman couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him.

One second of lucidity and Roman was glad it was gone. What kind of brother was he? Watching Remus look out the window again, lost to everything but the hills past the kingdom, Roman felt a deep sinking loss in his chest.

But, with that look that’d been on Remus’ face… how could he not be relieved?

He sighed again. Roman did that a lot in this room. He wished he could help it, for Remus’ sake.

But Remus probably didn’t hear it anyway.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” he breathed, words lost to his brother. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

Roman retracted his hands, absently noting the singe marks across his palms. He’d wear some gloves to cover them.

“Sorry,” he repeated. The word rang in his head, begging to be said again and again, until his sins were carried off with them, somewhere far away in the wind of those words. “Sorry.”

-/-

The next time Roman visited the park, he didn’t go to the library. However, it seemed he didn’t have to.

“Thank you so much, kiddo!” Roman absently heard from Patton as he scanned over some of the construction plans. “I can’t believe I forgot this.”

Roman heard one of his guards cough, stifling what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Funny, they usually only did that when-

“No problem, Pat,” a deep, vaguely uncomfortable sounding voice replied, and Roman shot straight up. There was another noise that was definitely a laugh this time, but he didn’t pay mind to it. His eyes shot to the interaction happening not five feet from him.

Virgil.

He was standing a bit slouched, hands stuffed into his pockets and nodding along to Patton’s excited gibbering. It was sort of adorable, how patient Virgil was, the way he hid his smile when Patton punned, how out of place he seemed to feel, but comfortable around his friend.

Roman hadn’t known Virgil and Patton were friends. That was adorable.

Okay, Roman should really stop thinking of Virgil as adorable. Soon. Now.

But his eyeshadow was slightly smudged–probably from wiping it on accident–and that was adorable too.

No. Stopping now.

Roman dipped his head back down, boring his eyes into the blueprints. He absorbed none of it, but he acted the part like a champ. Looking busy sure came handy when a prince wanted to avoid people. You couldn’t argue that a prince wasn’t doing important work.

Well, perhaps a lesser prince. But everyone knew how seriously Roman took his job (whether he lived up to expectation or not. Virgil saw past that. Virgil pointed out exactly where Roman lacked…. but he also commented on the good things too. He’d said how much safer it was to walk home lately–how the children were excited about the park–how some patrons of the library complained about the tax increases, but Virgil argued with them about the necessities of the kingdom; all the community works, roads paved, safety measures).

“Ro?” Patton asked, and, even if it weren’t for his voice and bubbly nature, Roman would have known it was him. Patton was the only one on the construction crew that had taken him up on his offer to not use ‘my prince’ every time they referred to him.

“Hm?” Roman asked, pretending to be busy. He saw Patton from the corner of his eye, dragging another person by his side–no doubt Virgil. Roman swallowed harshly.

“This is my friend Virgil. Sorry to interrupt work and all, but I try to introduce him to everyone around here. He doesn’t get around too often and-”

“Pat!” Virgil hissed beside him, and Roman couldn’t help it. He looked up.

And they locked eyes.

Virgil’s cheeks were a dull pink, furiously trying to escape the bounds of the pale foundation he’d applied. For a moment, they were suspended there, Virgil and Roman just looking at each other.

Then, Virgil looked away. “Patton, you can’t just drag me around everywhere.”

Patton, the dear, had the good grace to look sheepish. “I just thought you’d want to meet the prince is all.”

“We’ve already met,” Roman said, against the wishes of his panicked nerves. It felt like something he wanted to keep for himself, something he could hold secret and close to his chest. He forced the words out though. Surely there was no valid reason to keep it secret.

Virgil flinched as Patton whipped around to face him. “Really?!”

He shifted a bit on his feet, and Roman noticed how considerably less confident he was outside the library. Maybe it was the new space, or the unknown gazes, but it worried Roman how much smaller Virgil appeared outside his familiar walls.

While Patton excitedly talked to Virgil about this new development, Roman was able to take a second to himself. It was Roman’s first time around him knowing how he felt about Virgil–without the panic of last time, mind spinning with Do I like him? Do I like him? Do I like him? Roman could examine those feelings up close here, scrutinizing them for what they were. He definitely liked Virgil, that much was definite by then, but how much? Roman fell quickly, but, as long as he was even still a bit afloat, it was fine. Virgil was safe.

And Roman understood with relief that this was indeed the case. He wasn’t in love with Virgil. It was still frightening how easily he’d fallen in deep like with the man, but Roman could remedy the situation. It just… took a bit of… severing of their relationship. Just a dash of distancing, a pinch of avoidance and rigid politeness.

It was less than a minute that Roman had to think on this, Patton and Virgil’s conversation ending abruptly when Virgil started to get visibly overwhelmed. That worried Roman too, but it only seemed to embarrass Virgil.

“Virge? Buddy?” Patton asked, but Virgil’s red face shook back and forth.

“It’s fine, Pat. Let’s just moveonrightnow,” Virgil spoke without a lot of breath, words coming out quick. He was different outside the library, like he was constantly afraid of… something. He was jumpy, and Roman was sure that if someone were to sneak up on him right now, purposefully or not, they would be socked in the jaw.

“Yes,” Roman spoke up, seeing his opportunity. “I’m afraid I’ve actually ran out of time here, but we got a lot done here today. Great job, all of you.”

“You’re leaving?” Patton asked, looking disappointed.

And Roman realized what he’d tried to avoid for so long. Patton was cute. He was funny and kind and made Roman feel like the world had light. But Roman really had nothing to be scared of. He looked at Logan too, clever and full of passion for his work and interests, and thought the same. He’d been avoiding all the wrong people–people who could’ve been his friends.

So to Patton Roman gave a sad smile of his own. He gave his excuses–the many duties of a prince, how busy things have been lately, that he really should let them get back to work instead of hovering over their shoulders so often–he was just a prince, after all.

It all paled to the real reason, nestled deep in his chest where he hoped no one would look, see his obvious lie.

Roman couldn’t be near Virgil.

Too risky.

-/-

The thing with falling for someone–it doesn’t stop when you don’t see them.

What was the saying? Distance makes the heart grow fonder?

That saying existed because days without those you’re infatuated with just make you think about them more. And Roman, the chronic dreamer he was, could not stop thinking about Virgil. He dreamed in his sleep about pushing the hair from Virgil’s face, curling it around his ears and leaning down for a gentle kiss. He day-dreamed about Virgil in his library, slouched over his desk, waiting for patrons and passing the day in boredom.

Roman thought of his snarky quips, eyerolls, insistent gestures when he was trying to tell Roman something. Those milliseconds of a softer look that Roman would ignore, trying to convince himself he loathed Virgil, so he wouldn’t have to go away.

He realized now how too late it was.

Virgil’s laugh was stuck in his ears–Virgil’s nervous voice outside the library–Virgil’s stories of friends he’d never see again, growing up in a distant place.

And Roman hadn’t realized how much of himself he’d given as well. Virgil had been an ear to Roman’s rants, a backboard to spring off horrible ideas. Virgil could be ruthless, and Roman could be idyllic, but, somewhere in there, it actually worked. He’d told Virgil about spreading himself thin, about the demands of a prince he hadn’t expected when the king and queen had adopted him. He told him about how much he cared, cared so much, about the people of this kingdom, even while he’d only been there for three years himself.

There was so much, now that Roman considered it. And still so much he wanted to share. He’d never told Virgil about his brother–no one knew about Remus. He wasn’t fit to be in the public eye. That much scrutiny and pressure, after everything he’d been through, would destroy him.

But he found himself wanting to tell Virgil. Found that he trusted him with the information.

And he wanted to tell Virgil about where he and his brother grew up, about the night he woke up and Remus wasn’t by his side, and it took two years of searching and loneliness to find him and save him. Roman wanted to tell Virgil his favorite color was red, that his favorite stories as a kid were about knights, not princes, that he spent his free time–or what freetime he used to have–writing poetry, and he had a secret love for theater that he’d never had the opportunity to explore.

Roman felt his heart pulling pulling pulling. It wouldn’t rest, wouldn’t relinquish the hold it had over him, would not forget him- him-

Virgil.

His heart was a selfish thing. It stuck like glue to those who didn’t want it. It kept its love in a cage, never to let go.

But Roman had to stop thinking of him. It would only lead to heartbreak. It would only lead to Virgil’s doom.

That should make it easier on his heart–knowing the person it longed for was at risk for its choice–but nothing did sway it. It was up to Roman to wrangle it in, suppress, push it down down down.

A sound at the door of his office snapped Roman out of his thoughts–spiralling, an hourly occurrence at this rate, sending him straight to a world far away, spinning in purple irises. The door creaked open, and there stood an odd sight.

“Remus?” Roman asked, concerned. He was already standing, walking around the desk and across the room. “Is everything alright? Why are you on this side of the castle?”

Remus was very far from his room, and the castle was pretty confusing. It was a surprise his brother had found him at all.

“Virgil,” was all Remus said, like it held all the answers he’d ever been looking for. Roman paused, eyebrows furrowing.

“What about him?”

“It’s him.”

“What?” Roman asked, and Remus reached out, grabbed his hand. Before he knew it, Roman was being pulled along. Remus was leading them down the corridor, looking more sure of himself than Roman had seen since they were kids. “Remus, what are you doing? Where are we going?”

Remus didn’t answer him. In fact, Roman was thrown into even more confusion when he was steered into a random room at the end of the corridor, his brother huffing as he shut the door behind them. “Walking takes too long,” he seemed to be realizing. His hand was glowing and, when he reached out for Roman again, it was a blink of an eye before they were standing somewhere completely new.

“Remus, what the hell?” Roman asked, retracting his hand. “You shouldn’t use your magic like that! Anyone could see you.”

But Remus wasn’t listening. Was he ever? Instead, he was looking around. “Not where I would have picked.” He was sounding… like himself. Roman stared, wide-eyed. If he wasn’t so confused, he’d be elated. He’d long since thought getting his brother back to any normalcy–or whatever was normalcy for Remus–was impossible.

“Who’s there?” a voice interrupted his thoughts, carrying across the library stacks. Roman recognized it and cursed internally. Why had Remus taken them there?

Slowly, Roman put up his hands and crept out of the small alcove Remus had taken them to, ready to come up with an explanation for their sudden appearance on the fly. “Do not be afraid,” Roman said, as any prince would. He stood in the open and found Virgil’s gaze. All Virgil had to protect him were his own fists–not the best tactic, Roman thought. Then again, it was only the other day that Roman had been afraid Virgil would sock the nearest person.

Still, just his fists didn’t seem like a great defense against swords or knives or any number of weapons a burglar could have. There was a pang in Roman’s heart as he thought of what might have happened if it wasn’t just him and Remus in there. Virgil would have been defenseless.

As realization dawned on Virgil’s face, they stood at a stand still, both almost afraid to move. When Virgil’s eyes drifted to his raised fists–loose, not really fists at all, who had taught Virgil to fight?–he dropped them like hot coals, stuffing them in his pockets.

“Fuck, Roman, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Virgil said, and Roman knew he shouldn’t be focusing on this–but Virgil had said his name again, and his heart was singing.

“My dearest apologies,” Roman bowed, and, going by the weirded out look on Virgil’s face, that was not of norm between them. He supposed they had never been quite civil with each other–even at the beginning. “I wanted to show my brother the library and you weren’t at the front desk, so we just came in.”

“I’ve been at the front desk this whole time,” Virgil said, not defensive, but confused. Well, at least Virgil wasn’t in a bad mood.

“Funny. We didn’t see you.”

“Wait wait wait,” Virgil said, backing up a second. “You said brother?”

Shit.

Looked like Roman would have to explain that sooner than he’d thought. Or, really, at all. Wanting to tell Virgil and telling him had been on two separate lists entirely. Roman wasn’t actually supposed to be talking to Virgil at all.

“Okay, so-” Roman went to start, but he was caught off by a twin set of gasps, one shortly after the other. The first had come from behind him, so that’s where he looked.

“It is you,” Remus said. Roman’s eyes widened, finally catching on to what his brother had been trying to tell him.

“Wait, do you know each other?”

“Remus?” Virgil’s reply answered that question well enough. Roman turned back to him, eyes darting between the two. Virgil sputtered, “What- How-”

“It’s too late,” Remus mumbled. It sounded a bit more like he had over the past year–less like himself, but his eyes were present; he looked to be considering something–something he didn’t seem to favor. “It was a trap.”

“A trap?” Roman asked. “What do you mean? A trap for who? Who’s trapping?”

“Remus, what the fuck? How are you here? How did you get away?” Virgil asked, walking closer, but not too close, like there was still a part of him that couldn’t believe what was in front of him.

“Get away?” Roman said, pieces further slipping into place. He didn’t like where this was going.

“What about Dee?”

“Dee…” Roman mumbled, the name familiar in his ears. I miss Dee, Remus had said. I miss Dee I miss Dee I miss Dee…

“It’s too late,” Remus repeated. “Of course it was you.”

Then, the room erupted into chaos.

-/-

Books flew, shelves rocked, windows clattered. From the corners of his eyes, Roman could see flashes of purple and green. Past the wind in his ears, he heard vague shouts from Virgil and a round of fuckfuckfuckfuckfucks from Remus. He couldn’t recall if he was saying anything himself, but he knew what he was feeling. Scared.

Roman had no idea what was happening, but, from the flashes of light, he deduced it must have been magic. This made him turn toward his brother, suddenly scared that all of this had gotten to him. Being outside the castle, some place unfamiliar, not to mention Remus had always been kind of a loose cannon with his magic–it could have caused Remus to panic.

But one look at him and Roman knew his brother wasn’t the one doing it. He turned to Virgil, remembering what he’d been saying, how he’d known Remus, how he’d raised his hands in a stance that made no sense in traditional fighting–but, with magic?

Purple sparks flew across Virgil’s skin, like they were doing on Remus too, but his eyes weren’t aglow. He wasn’t doing it either.

What was happening?

Then, abruptly, it stopped.

Shelves balanced back to their places and books dropped to the floor, lifeless. It was all they could do to just stand there before movement caught Roman’s eye at the top of one of the shelves.

Someone sat there, legs folded elegantly over one another where they balanced precariously. Roman recognized the one glowing eye peering down at them, the scaly hands, the knowing smirk.

“What a lovely reunion,” she purred. Roman was stricken, fear clenching his gut. Instinctively, however, he stepped forward in front of Remus and Virgil. He watched as her eyes traveled over each of them, finally landing behind Roman’s left shoulder, lips curling further into her face. “I was hoping it would be you.”

“How- How did you-” Virgil stuttered, but his voice died out. Roman narrowed his eyes, something protective overpowering his fear.

“You should not be here,” Roman stated.

“But, my prince,” she said, “We made a deal.”

“A deal that hasn’t come to fruition,” he said.

“I see someone’s still in denial,” the woman leered. “A witch’s curse knows all, though. You can’t scam the Dragon Witch of her hoard, my prince.” The way she said ‘my prince’ infuriated him, but nothing like Virgil’s had. The Dragon Witch said it like it was nothing, like it was delectable and sweet and hers to keep.

“What is she talking about?” Virgil asked, and Roman turned. Instead of scared, he now looked confused. He was watching the two of them, apprehensive, but ready to fight. His hands were up again in those loose fists, purple sparking off of them. Magic. Virgil had magic. “You made a deal with the witch?”

“Not that he had much choice.” The witch shrugged. It seemed casual, despite the manic glee in her eyes. “I was going to kill him and keep Remus. But he wanted his brother, and he got to be prince of a kingdom! Fair trade, if you ask me.”

“It’s not fair,” Remus said, and the witch seemed to remember he was there. “You can’t take him-”

“Shut up, Remus,” she said offhandedly and Remus flinched. Rage filled Roman, and he stomped further toward the witch.

“Don’t you dare-”

“Don’t I dare what, sweetie?” she asked, folding her legs up onto the bookshelf with her, where Roman couldn’t reach. He was ready to topple the whole shelf when her words caught him. “I’m only here for what I’m due. I was hoping you’d choose Virgil.”

“What?” he asked, and his voice echoed. He turned around and saw Virgil’s ghostly face, mouth open, having spoken at the same time.

“There’s so many possibilities, you know,” she said and sighed like she was bored. “There’s some realities where you fall for the architects, but there were quite a few where we’d end up here and that was certainly a risk I was willing to take. So glad it paid off.”

“But I’m not-” Roman protested, and when he was cut off again he felt ready to pull his sword. It would do nothing against her magic–something he knew well–but she was really getting to him.

“Not in love? Please,” the Dragon Witch scoffed. “It’s not my problem you haven’t realized it yet.”

“Wait!” a voice suddenly tore through their conversation, and Roman looked back at Virgil, something tightening his gut. Virgil looked simultaneously angry and afraid and lost. “Hold on for a second. What the fuck is going on?”

With a grace that shouldn’t have belonged to someone so wicked, the witch floated down from the bookshelf, jumping right over Roman and landing in front of Virgil. Virgil seemed to have masked everything in those few seconds, standing defiant and tall before the woman. It mystified Roman. It was nothing he had ever seen before–nothing like Virgil’s comfortable confidence in the library. Virgil lowered his hands, appearing defenseless and unafraid under her manic gaze.

“Long story,” she said, tossing her head side to side. “But I’ll tell you the ending if you want. My little happily ever after… minus dear Remus over there. I’d rather have all three of you but Remus turned weak. This. This was the outcome I was betting on.”

She leaned in, centimeters from Virgil’s face and anyone else might have missed the minute flinch in the man’s body, but Roman saw–tuned into it. Virgil’s eyes were hard. He said nothing.

Even as he was sentenced to his doom–to a doom brought to him because of Roman–because of a heart he couldn’t control–because Roman had signed away another’s life–a life that wasn’t Roman’s to give–a life Roman hadn’t yet met–that he was destined to love and hate and damn forever.

And it’d been a trap.

“Virgil, my long lost terror, you belong to me again. The End.”

#sanders sides #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #ts creativity #ts anxiety #ts #tw weapons #tw trauma #tw injury #minor edits: realized the italics didn't copy over #but that's fixed #also i'm going to lose my shit if people don't stop walking behind me while i have writing on my screen #i have an allergic reaction to people seeing my writing when i'm not ready for them to #which for irl people is next to never #requests #tw angst #tw unhappy ending #ahhcc

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