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buckybarnesthehotshot · 3 years

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I Like You (Alexandra Trese x Diwata!Reader)

gif not mine |main masterlist|

summary: In the middle of a case, confessions arise

word count: 2046

warnings: mentions of illness, filipino traffic, i don’t proofread stuff

a/n: i’m only now writing again haha puta nakakagago yung writer’s block

Team Trese was at it again with maintaining the balance between the Underworld and the world of humans. It wasn’t too difficult of a job to keep up with when your team—some would use that term loosely—consisted of Alexandra Trese, Hank Sparrow, The Kambal, and y/n. She was one of the newer recruits to the team.

To outsiders, y/n was an enigma; she was a Diwata and yet nothing about her behavior would even suggest that she was one. The way she would often act was unbecoming of one’s expectations for a Diwata. There was no way one could instantly come to the conclusion that she was one especially with the glamour she wore to disguise her own appearance.

Diwatas existed to preserve nature; one would expect them to keep a calm-headed demeanor, glimmering with an aura of positivity and radiance, all coming from the beauty of the environment that they shroud themselves in. If a monarchy were to take place in the Underworld, the Diwatas would be the epitome of regality, carrying themselves with grace and compassion.

But y/n? She was a different story. At first glance, one may believe her to be a “corrupted” Diwata as she didn’t seem to uphold the same values her sisters did. Alexandra, though, held different impressions and thoughts on the h/c-haired deity.

To Alexandra, the “darker” side to y/n wasn’t an irreversible defect coming from when she came to be. Alexandra knew there was so much more to the girl besides her impartiality to the way other Diwatas lived their lives and how she chose to live hers differently, hiding herself amongst the humans. There was so much more to her than meets the eye.

Alexandra was sure y/n was a product to the environment she was born into. As one of the younger—well, if you could call nearly a century on the planet young—Diwatas, she didn’t get to experience nature at its peak, not the way the elders did, at least. She was not birthed to the beautiful colors of nature, nor the peace nature could provide one with.

No. Alexandra understood that the girl was born to the destruction of what it was she was meant to be protecting. She didn’t get the opportunity to witness what it was she had to protect. She didn’t get to see the place she was meant to call home as the forest she was supposed to inhabit had been turned into a city before she could understand how to use her abilities.

If anything, the human world poisoned y/n’s outlook on what it meant to be a Diwata. All the pointless destruction brought her both anguish and confusion. However, birthed from that confusion was y/n’s innocent need to help nature become one with the city life. Her goal was to at least bring small bits and pieces of what the world used to be into the city.

“What’s the next case for today, Bossing?” Crispin questioned as soon as Alexandra set her phone down next to her in her seat.

“There have been reports of illness among a group of Lumberjacks in the province. Some people are convinced it has something to do with supernatural beings who may have inhabited the forest. I was hoping y/n would know something about it,” Alexandra explained, sending y/n an eager glace, as though to ask what could have caused the fatigue to spread amongst the lumberjacks.

“Well, they’re lumberjacks, there are plenty of beings they could’ve pissed off,” y/n explained, earning a nod from both Crispin and Basilio, “I mean, there are plenty of creatures who live up in trees. It’s either that or the trees were in another creature’s domain. Either way, all this may have something to do with the chopping of trees.”

“Could a Diwata have done this?” Hank questioned, earning a small glare from Alexandra before he backed up his statement to defend himself, “It’s just that the Encantados and Encantadas have been known for their power. y/n over here’s pretty powerful too, so we may never know if a Diwata could be responsible for this too or not.”

“Hank’s right, but if there’s a Diwata taking domain over that land, I would have known already. Diwatas are mostly peaceful beings, and if there’s one of us out there riddling the human world with disease, there would have been some talk of it amongst the other Diwatas,” y/n explained, a small smirk making its way to her face as she added, “The older generation of Diwatas; they can be such gossips at times.”

“So, it’s not a Diwata? Could it be a nuno or duwende living in the tree when it was cut down? Maybe they’re the ones spreading disease in the form of a curse,” Basilio suggested, earning a small nod of encouragement from his twin brother.

“Well, the only way to know is to actually go to where the lumberjacks were working and investigate,” Alexandra stated firmly, before everybody else returned to whatever it was they’d been doing in the car; Hank driving, the Twins conversing over whatever topics it was that came to mind for them, y/n looking through social media in an attempt to keep up with everything happening in the human world, and Alexandra already thinking of possible solutions to whatever the problems they might have ended up encountering.

The ride to the province took longer than expected. Despite the fact that they all left the house pretty early, it was already well into the afternoon—Philippine traffic was a pain in the ass when it came to travelling to the province from the city—when they finally parked the car in front of one of the houses in the Barangay.

“This is the house of Danilo Corpuz, he’s one of the lumberjacks who fell ill after a day from work,” Alexandra explained, earning a nod from everybody else as they all got out the car and into the house.

Alexandra made quick work of questioning the man, asking him about what he’d been doing, where they were cutting down trees, and if there’d been any signs of anything supernatural going on.

“There were burnt up cigars and emptied out bottles of Red Horse at the trunks of the trees,” the man explained to them, as everyone present came to the realization of what it was they were all going to be facing.

“How are we supposed to deal with the Kapres? They’ve been known to be vengeful and difficult to talk down whenever their trees are chopped,” Basilio huffed as the others slowly nodded in agreement. The Kapres were stubborn; there was no way to talk them out of seeking revenge however it was they saw fit considering it was the humans who’d made the first “attack” on their homes.

“Trust me, I’ll find a way through it. Now, come on, let’s go. We don’t have time to waste, there could be lethal effects of the illness—or curse—if we don’t hurry,” Alexandra ushered them all back into the car. She sat at the front seat, studying the conditions of the treaty to see whether or not the Kapres laying their curses on the humans was against it and what punishments she could serve them.

y/n smiled to herself, witnessing the determination on Alexandra’s face. She watched silently as the woman began to look through the items she kept in her coat for something that could be useful for them.

“Hank, can we stop at a sari-sari store first?” y/n questioned, watching Hank’s eyebrow arch from the rearview mirror as though to question her on what could be so important for her to buy that it would delay the trip to the woods, “I need to buy a few bottles of Red Horse and some Marlboro. I figured it would help get the Kapres to loosen up and talk to us.”

“That’s a great idea, Ate y/n!” Crispin exclaimed, high-fiving y/n upon hearing her suggestion, “Besides, I’m getting tired of all the fighting and having to regenerate.”

“Does it consume your energy whenever you have to regenerate?” y/n questioned, raising a brow at the twins as Crispin chuckled.

“No,” the twins chimed in unanimously. y/n found herself chuckling at their remark before getting off the car to where Hank stopped. Alexandra watched intently as the enchanting woman spoke with the tindera at the store before walking back in the car, plastic bag filled with vices swinging in her hand.

Turns out, the woods where the lumberjacks had been working wasn’t too far from Danilo’s home. From the sari-sarii store, the trip there must have lasted them ten minutes. Everyone hopped out the car and ventured into the shadowy woods, knowing damn well what they were about to encounter.

“I know you’re here,” Alexandra called out to the thick branches of the tallest trees in the forest. It was silent for a moment until the leaves on the branches began shuffling until at least four kapres made their presence known, no longer cloaking themselves with invisibility.

“Little Trese, what’s this visit about?” one of the Kapres questioned, his dark eyes beaming into Alexandra’s. It was clear they weren’t exactly welcome there. Still, y/n wanted to try her best to avoid confrontation, so she slowly made her way towards the Kapre’s tree, then motioning for him to come down.

As a Diwata, she and the other creatures of the forest naturally held mutual understandings between each other; after all, to some degree their interests and beliefs intersected where it mattered the most—preserving their homes. Hesitantly, the Kapre made his way off the tree as the team could only watch the interaction unfold.

“You know what I am, don’t you?” y/n questioned slowly, tucking her hair between her pointed ears, giving a small smile as she dropped her glamour to reveal her true divine form, the Kapre nodded as y/n continued, “Right, well, these are my friends. Alexandra wishes to have a word with you and you will hear her out. In return, you get this.”

The Kapre eyed the contents of the bag before nodding, taking the bag from y/n’s grasp and motioning for the others to get off the tree. y/n watched intently as the Tribe communicated with Alexandra, voicing their reasons, and listening as Alexandra tried her best to come up with a compromise to make sure no humans would get hurt and the Kapres would not be bothered.

In the end, everyone agreed that the Kapres should be moved somewhere less open, somewhere where humans wouldn’t dare venture in pursuit for just lumber. They made a deal where y/n would guide them to safety while they take back whatever curse or disease they put on the human men.

To y/n, watching Alexandra negotiate with the Kapres was almost like watching an artist create art; it was a satisfying process to watch from beginning to end. y/n had been so mesmerized that she forgot to put her façade back up when the negotiation ended. For a brief moment, Alexandra’s eyes met hers before y/n tore hers away quickly, already leading the Kapres deeper into the forest somewhere she knew would be safer for them.

Alexandra began to quicken her pace, rushing over to y/n’s side.

“What?”

“What do you mean what?” y/n’s brows furrowed at Alexandra’s question.

“What was that look about? The one you sent me when I was talking with the Kapres,” Alexandra questioned again, brows furrowed with confusion before y/n’s eyes widened, before the Diwata let out a chuckle.

“Nothing, I just like you,” y/n shrugged as Alexandra found herself staring at the Diwata in disbelief.

“You like me?”

“Yeah? Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because you never talk about anything to anyone,” Crispin cut in, only to get a flick to the ear from Hank, telling him not to interrupt the pair’s conversation.

“Right. That. Believe it or not, I admire you a lot, Alexadra. I find it admirable how you’re doing so much for both the human world and the underworld,” y/n, for what seemed like the first time to most, let out a soft smile in Alexandra’s direction, “Now, come on, we have a Kapre tribe to relocate!”

TRESE TAGLIST: @thatmultifandomloser / @sitherin-mxschief / @thegodswereneveronourside

#trese netflix #alexandra trese #trese #trese x you #trese x reader #trese x y/n #alexandra trese x you #alexandra trese x reader #alexandra trese fanfic #alexandra trese x y/n

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jewish-space-laser · 4 years

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Miles & Black Coffee - Part One

“When you’re on a golden sea, You don’t need no memory, Just a place to call your own, As we drift into the zone...”

-Island in the Sun by Weezer

Hello, and welcome to part one of M&BC! She’s split up into parts, a day late, and a bit rusty... but she’s here! It’ll be my first new piece of writing since I rejoined tumblr, so it’s a bit nerve-wracking. Thank you to Kate @andwhenshesays, Anne @oh-honey-styles, and Anna @for-fucks-sake-h for organizing this entire challenge, you’ve brought so much joy to our little tumblr community. We love you all dearly ♥️ (4.5k words)

xoxoxox Tile

Warnings: mild drinking, mild drug use (just weed)

You and Harry would never be friends. You were up and down, night and day, oil and water. You just didn’t mesh. He was your roommate’s insufferable older brother, and that is all he would ever be. Well, at least that’s what you thought before….

the one with campfire conversations, cabin getaways, and enemies that were never really enemies after all.

MONDAY

Pine trees and cornfields flew by in a blur as you stared out the window of your roommate’s minivan. Every once in a while, there’d be a pasture of cows or a horse ranch. It had been exciting at first, but now you were just bored.

“How much longer?” You called over the music, trying to keep the whine from your voice. It had been hours since you left your apartment this morning, and you’d only stopped once to stretch your legs and take a bathroom break.

“The GPS says we still have an hour and a half to go,” Callie groaned, stepping a bit harder on the gas pedal.

Normally, you loved road trips, but this particular drive was more cramped than you’d bargained for. There were seven girls packed into the van, and you’d been unfortunate enough to get squished into the backseat with your twin sister and her girlfriend, who hadn’t stopped with the obnoxious PDA since the car got on the freeway.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying to will away your nauseating carsickness. This week had been marked into your calendar for months, and you’d be damned if you let this god-awful car ride ruin it for you.

Callie, your college roommate, had a cabin in northern Wisconsin that she’d been raving about for years. She’d been going there with her family for decades, every summer since pre-school, she’d said. According to her, it was a beautiful property, equipped with a private lakeside beach, fire pit, and a full bar.

It was going to be the perfect getaway. You and Callie had rounded up all of your girlfriends, packed all of the essentials for a spa night, junk food, board games, movies. You’d packed four swimsuits just in case; the weather forecast looked fantastic, high seventies and low eighties all week long.

It was going to be the perfect vacation. Well, almost perfect.

Harry was going to be there.

Harry, the constant thorn in your side. Harry, Callie’s older brother. Harry, the one who eats all of your food whenever he visits. Harry, the one who constantly picked fights with you. You and him had never gotten along, not even for a second.

There wasn’t a single person alive who got on your nerves more than he did. Generally, you got along with most people, but Harry was the exception to the rule. You couldn’t seem to shake him off.

You weren’t about to let him ruin this trip, though. There were going to be fourteen people staying at the cabin, so it should be a piece of cake to avoid him for a week; there were plenty of other people to interact with. And even if you couldn’t avoid him, you were going to let his inevitable snarky comments roll off of your back. Well, you’d try to, at least.

Perhaps that’s what annoyed you most about him, the reaction you’d have from the smallest fight. With anyone else, it was water under the bridge… with Harry, you thought about it for days afterwards, thinking of better comebacks you should’ve said or ways you could have changed your schedule to steer clear of him altogether. He made your skin prickle with irritation, and turned you into somebody you didn’t like very much.

It had been months since you’d seen him, not that you’d been keeping track. He typically visits Callie a few times a semester, but his senior year was more intense than he had anticipated, according to his sister. He just couldn’t spare the two hour drive from his university to yours.

But now it was summertime. Gone were the papers, projects, and responsibilities… it was finally time to relax and have fun. You only had one year of college left before graduation, so you and your friends wanted to make the most of it. Harry and his friends had just graduated, so they were at the cabin for their last hurrah before real life kicked in.

If you were being honest with yourself, you were excited that Harry was bringing some of his frat brothers along. You and your ex had just ended things recently, and you were finally feeling ready to get back into the dating game. Being trapped in a cabin with a handful of cute guys felt like a dream.

Finally, after what felt like centuries, Callie slowed the car down and turned onto a dirt road. The other girls in the car started desperately peering out the window to get a glimpse of the lake and surrounding forest.

The moment the cabin came into view, your jaw dropped. You knew Callie’s parents were loaded, but this hardly looked like the rustic getaway you were expecting. There were three buildings, each labelled with a birch bark sign. Two speedboats and a pontoon were docked at the beach, inflatable tubes and paddleboards littered around the sand nearby.

It wasn’t until Callie parked and shut off the engine that you heard a heavy bass thrum coming from the building marked MAIN CABIN. The other two buildings were labelled GUEST CABIN and SHOWER HOUSE. You were snapped out of it when Olivia and Jane, who had been sitting in the middle bucket seats, swung their sliding doors open and practically fell onto the ground.

“I don’t think I remember how to walk normally,” Charlie, a girl from your art history class, groaned, “like, we were sitting in that car for so long….”

“Oh, shush,” your sister, Morgan, scoffed, “at least you got to sit up front. I was crammed into the back between these two.”

Both you and her girlfriend, Isobel, huffed in protest, but it wasn’t worth picking a fight over. You’d have plenty of time to bicker later. For now, the fresh air and cool breeze were like heaven after a long road trip.

“The boys beat us here,” Callie remarked.

Sure enough, there were two other cars already parked in the driveway. Back behind the main cabin, a plume of smoke rose into the air. You could hear loud laughter, loud enough to drown out the trap music they had playing.

“They’ve started a bonfire!” Olivia squealed, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “I’m ready to get partying… it’s four in the afternoon and I’ve spent all day in a car. I need a drink.”

A few others were laughing and nodding in agreement, already making their way towards the boys, but you hung back. You’d party later, but after spending an entire day stuck with six other people, you just wanted to be alone. Plus, you wanted to drink tonight, and you’d never get around to unpacking your bag if you were wasted.

You managed to dig your duffel bag out from the pile of luggage in the trunk, letting it fall to the ground with a thump. Callie had just been finishing up with a phone call when you looked up.

“Hey, you’re not joining the others?” She asked. “I was about to head over, they’ve got a fire going. Just had to call my mum to let her know we made it.”

“I’ll join in a bit,” you promised “but I want to unpack my things first… where are we all staying?”

“You’re in the main cabin, I have you sharing a room with Charlie, is that okay?” She questioned. You nodded quickly, relief flooding over you. You liked all of the girls who came on the trip, but Charlie was by far the easiest to get along with. “Harry and I each have our own room in the main cabin, too, so you won’t be alone. Everyone else is in the guest cabin, though.”

“The guest cabin,” you giggled, slinging your bag over your shoulder as Callie lead you into the main building, “this place is swanky, Cal.”

“We host all of our family reunions here,” she shrugged, “we need lots of space. Plus it’s fun for occasions like this… we’re just lucky my dad is letting us use the boats. He treats those things like they’re his own children, only Harry is allowed to drive them this week.”

You made a face at the mention of her brother. “I’ll be staying far away from the boats, then.”

“Oh god,” Callie groaned, “I know you two don’t get along very well, but please try to be civil… we’re here for a whole week, after all.”

“I’m always civil,” you protested innocently, “it’s him you need to worry about.”

“Always civil,” she scoffed, “we both know that’s not true, but I’ll let it slide.”

Okay, so maybe you had a slight temper when it came to Harry, but nine times out of ten, he was the one who started the argument. You were never the type to actively seek out conflict, but Harry seemed to thrive off of it. Whether it was eating all the food from your half of the fridge, throwing his dark blue t-shirt in with your load of whites, or playing his guitar in your living room until three in the morning when you had a test the next day… it felt like he was out to get you.

And he was never apologetic. Of course not. He probably got off on watching steam blow from your ears.

You took a deep breath as Callie led you up a wooden staircase, trying not to let yourself get worked up. The cabin was gorgeous from what you’d seen on the main floor. Though you hadn’t lingered, you’d noticed that there was a bookshelf that took up an entire wall, packed to the brim with books with faded spines, vinyl records with worn edges, and an assortment of candles and bookends sprinkled throughout randomly. You couldn’t wait to explore the entire property.

Photographs lined the walls of every hallway, snapshots of Harry and Callie running around as kids. There was a hilarious picture of a young Harry crying as he held a fishing pole, a bare hook dangling from the line. The Styles family clearly had a great sense of humor. You made a mental note to take a photo of it on your phone later; it would be perfect ammo for the next fight that Harry would inevitably start.

“This is the bathroom…” she drawled, “no shower though. We all just use the shower house, which isn’t really as bad as it sounds. Just make sure you bring clothes with you, otherwise you’ll have to walk across the lawn in just your towel.”

You grimaced at the thought. As she continued to lead you down the hall, you saw two doors, one with CALLIE’S ROOM written in bright pink bubble letters, and the second with a wooden plaque, the word HARRY written in what was clearly a child’s handwriting.

“This is technically my parents’ room, but we use it as a guest room if it’s just us kids,” Callie explained, stopping at the last door in the hallway, “they have a king bed, so I figured you and Charlie could just share.”

“That’s fine,” you assured her, not hesitating to drop your heavy duffel onto the side of the bed closest to the window, “this place is awesome, Callie.”

“Right?” She grinned. “I’m stoked for the week, it’s gonna be so fun.”

“You should go down to the bonfire,” you told her, placing a hand on your bag, “I’ll come join as soon as I’m done.”

Luckily, your roommate of two years understood that you needed alone time sometimes, so she left you without protest.

This was exactly the recharge time that you needed. You were the kind of person who loved being around friends, but there was only so much socializing you could handle before you needed a break to be on your own. Even though you hadn’t spoken much on the ride to the cabin, being squished into a mini-van with six other girls drained your social battery. Giving yourself a moment to breathe and relax was necessary if you were going to rejoin the group.

Pressing the shuffle play button on your spotify, you smiled when the soft melody of your favorite folk song thrummed through your headphones. You swayed from side-to-side as you unzipped your bag, which had been packed to perfection.

Four swimsuits, a different outfit for each day (plus a few extra items… overpacking is better than underpacking), sunscreen, bug spray, all of your toiletries. It was fun to organize everything into the empty wardrobe by the window; looking at all of your stuff just made you more excited to be here.

Time flew by as you danced around the room. Most of your things were put away, and you’d stashed your empty bag under the bed. The one thing you hadn’t put away yet was your assortment of swimsuits. It had been difficult picking out which ones you wanted to bring, but you’d settled on three bikinis and a one-piece with the sides cut out. You were itching to change out of your leggings and t-shirt; they felt gross against your skin after sitting in the van all day.

Just as you went to pick up your navy blue sequined bikini top, a hand abruptly clamped down on your shoulder.

“Holy shit!” You spun around on your heels, hand flying to cover your beating heart. You were less than pleased to find Harry standing there, wide-eyed and trying to mask his amusement by biting down on his lip.

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he chuckled, “forgot how jumpy you are.”

“I’m not jumpy,” you frowned, pulling your headphones out of your ears and crossing your arms over your stomach, “what are you doing in here?”

“Nice to see you too,” he scoffed, dimple indenting into his cheek, “I was just using the loo, then I was gonna go back to the party, where we’re having fun. Foreign concept to you, I’m sure.”

You rolled your eyes, turning around so he couldn’t see how hard you were scowling. He always knew just what to say to get your blood boiling.

“Are you implying that I don’t know how to have fun, Harry?” You asked sarcastically.

“Ah, I knew you were smarter than you looked,” he grinned. “Cute swim top.”

It was only then that you noticed his attire. Well, lack of attire. He was wearing the smallest swimming shorts you’d ever seen, his chest tanned from the sun and completely bare apart from a single cross necklace that hung over his sternum. His hair had grown out since the last time you saw him, and it looked a bit ridiculous with his sunglasses on top of his head.

He looked good, not that you’d ever admit it. Luckily, you were fantastic at masking your wandering eyes; he had a tendency of walking around your apartment in his boxers during visits, so you’d had plenty of practice.

“Shut up,” you groaned, throwing the bikini top back onto the bed. You’d been planning on wearing that one, but Harry ruined it with his gross comment, just like he ruins most things for you.

“I’m quite incapable of shutting up,” he mused, throwing himself down onto your side of the bed, “you should know this by now.”

“Trust me,” you were completely unamused, still standing with your arms crossed over your stomach, “I’m well aware.”

“You should come join the party,” he continued speaking as if you hadn’t said anything, seemingly unfazed by how visibly irritated you were, “it’s the first day and you’re already being a buzzkill. Maybe you should try like… try stepping out of your comfort zone, just for the week.”

“Thank you so much for that lovely unsolicited advice,” you said sarcastically, “now if we’re talking about comfort zones, you laying on my bed is definitely out of mine.”

“Please, you love me on your bed,” he smirked, closing his eyes, “this is a dream come true for you.”

“Are you delusional?” You were running out of patience. “Did you hit your head?”

“Why?” He said innocently. “Are you thinking about playing nurse? Because I hate to break your heart, but I’m not into wet blankets. Maybe if you loosened up a bit.”

If he wasn’t gone in thirty seconds, you were going to scream. He seemed to be enjoying himself, arms crossed behind his head with a twinkle in his eye as you stared daggers at him.

“Are you quite done?” You spit. “I can feel my IQ dropping every time you speak. Plus, I need to change before I come down.”

“Ooh, can I watch?” He waggled his eyebrows.

That was it. “Harry, get out, okay?”

“Jeez, okay, fine,” he grumbled, rolling clumsily off of the bed, “so bossy, you are.”

You pointed a finger towards the door, leveling him with the steeliest glare you could muster. “Out,” you repeated.

“You should come down sooner rather than later,” he said, completely unbothered, “I’m sure you’ll be much nicer once you’ve had a drink or two.”

He was gone before you could think of a response. The annoyance bubbling inside you was so intense, you felt like you wanted to break something. Instead, you punched your pillow a few times to release some tension, taking a deep breath to compose yourself after.

You wrinkled your nose at the blue bikini top, choosing to wear an orange floral patterned one instead. You’d never give Harry the satisfaction.

~~~

The fire was absolutely roaring.

It was perfect. The fire pit was lined with wooden logs, the tops shaved off to make benches. There was hardly enough space for all fourteen of you, but you managed to squeeze in as you all roasted corn and hot dogs over the fire. It wasn’t too windy, so you didn’t have to worry about smoke blowing into your eyes, but the bugs were relentless.

The air around you smelled of smoke, bug spray, and good food. There were a few different conversations happening, and every once in a while, a few people would break out into loud, contagious laughter.

Harry had tried to talk to you when you came down, but you’d avoided him like the plague. You had absolutely nothing nice to say to him after his snarky comments in your room, and any further interaction with him at this point would just end in disaster. Thankfully, he was quickly distracted by some of his frat brothers, and he hadn’t tried to approach you again all night.

Now, you were chatting with Olivia and one of the boys, Luke. By the time you’d gone down to the bonfire, everyone was several drinks in. You’d been forced to play catch-up by way of tequila shots, so you had a pleasant buzz running through your veins.

“This is a perfect summer night,” you sighed happily, pulling your skewer from the flames to keep your corn from burning.

“Almost perfect,” a boy named Archie corrected, “we haven’t been out on the lake yet.”

Harry and three of the other boys had arrived a night early to get the boats ready, and now that Archie mentioned it, the pontoon was looking mighty tempting. The sun hadn’t fully set, but dusk was beginning to settle in, blanketing the forest with pink and orange hues, a gorgeous reflection of the sunset above you. It was the perfect time to go out on the water.

“How do we feel about the pontoon?” You wondered out loud. There was no way you’d all fit, but you could go in groups.

“It’s too buggy to be on the water,” Callie wrinkled her nose, “I’m getting eaten alive as it is.”

“I’m down, as long as I can smoke a spliff while we’re out there,” James, one of the other boys, shrugged, “obviously I’ll share, I brought tons.”

A few others around the circle chimed in with their interest, and before you knew it, people were standing up to make their way over to the docks. You weren’t the best with names, but much to your relief, you’d introduced yourself to everyone going on the boat. Obviously, you already knew Morgan and Isobel, and were somewhat friendly with Jane, Archie, and James.

“I’ll come along, too,” a voice behind you yawned. When you turned around, you immediately felt yourself melt. Ryan, a boy you’d had a single class with freshman year, was stretching his arms out as he stood up, and he was looking directly at you with a flirtatious smile.

You’d had a major crush on him for the entirety of your class together, but you’d been too shy to say anything to him. He was a whole year older, after all, and that had been intimidating when you were eighteen.

You returned his smile, biting down on your bottom lip shyly.

“I guess I’m going too, then,” Harry sighed, shoving the last of his hot dog into his mouth before dusting his hands off.

Immediately, your face dropped. Harry snorted when he saw your expression, digging around the pocket in his swimsuit to retrieve a key.

“I’m the only one allowed to drive the boats, remember? Dad made me promise.”

Your shoulders slumped. You’d completely forgotten that Callie had mentioned it to you earlier. You weren’t about to turn down a sunset boat ride though, especially now that Ryan was coming along as well.

Everyone scarfed down the rest of their food in a rush as Harry went over to untie the boat and make sure it was good to go. You watched as he leaned far over the edge of the dock, so far that nearly fell face-first into the water before righting himself and trying again..

“Hey,” Ryan had walked next to you, following your line of sight, “he’s gonna fall in, isn’t he?”

“I hope so,” you giggled.

“You were in my History 204 class, weren’t you? Sophomore year?” He asked.

Your entire body flushed. You didn’t think he’d noticed you at all, let alone enough to remember you years later. Having Ryan up at the cabin, talking to you, felt like a dream come true.

“I was a freshman, but yeah, I think so,” you nodded nonchalantly, “I hated that professor.”

“Oh god, same!” He laughed, shaking his head, “such a drag, just constant pop quizzes!”

“Ugh, yes!” You turned your body towards him fully. “And that midterm assignment….”

“Don’t even get me started,” Ryan pretended to shiver in fear.

You laughed loudly, and from the corner of your eye you saw Harry turn to glance in your direction. Upon a closer look, he’d managed to wrangle the boat so it was right up against the dock.

“All aboard!” He shouted.

You rolled your eyes at his ridiculous antics. He always thought he was so funny, especially when you were the butt of his jokes. You hoped he’d be too busy driving to bother you.

Luckily, Ryan seemed keen to stay by your side, even helping you step into the boat by taking your hand to keep you balanced, so Harry didn’t have much of a chance to say anything. By the time the boat was moving, everyone was sitting in a circle on the floor, clipping in the life jackets that Callie had forced us all to wear.

As soon as the wind blew through your hair, you tilted your head up and closed your eyes. Lakes didn’t smell great, but you’d always loved it. It was classic, nostalgic. You’d spent every summer of your life swimming in Midwest lakes, so it felt just like summer.

James was true to his word, and pulled out four fatly rolled joints, passing them around with a lighter. You didn’t do this often, but it felt like the perfect moment. The sun was disappearing fast, and soon enough you’d be able to see the stars.

At some point, Harry slowed the engine down to a gentle hum when the boat reached the middle of the lake, getting a couple of the others to help him throw the anchor over the edge. Afterwards, he moved back over to the driving console and fiddled with a few buttons until quiet, staticky music sounded out. He then sat down across the circle from you, immediately accepting one of the joints from Archie.

You stood up on your knees, and looked around. Water lapped lightly against the sides of the boat, so it took you a moment to find your equilibrium. The silhouette of the tall pines surrounding the lake were awe-striking.

Nobody wanted to break the silence, so you didn’t. The weed was starting to take effect, making your body feel heavy and your head feel light. You started to lay down, unclipping your life jacket to use as a pillow. Slowly, your friends followed your lead, the sounds of shuffling and buckles popping open momentarily interrupting the tranquil silence.

You watched the sky change from pink to a deep blue, only turning your head away when the first stars became visible. Morgan was laying next to you, staring straight up at the sky. To anyone else, she looked like she was lost in thought, but you knew her better than that. There was a slight frown, watery eyes, a little crinkle across her forehead... she was worried about something.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, trailing a hand down her arm. She let out a long exhale.

“This is gonna sound so soppy,” Morgan sighed, “but I can’t stop thinking about like… how different I would be if I could just, change things about myself.”

“I like you the way you are,” Isobel frowned, sitting up slightly to look at her, “plus, you can change things about yourself. People do it all the time. New hairstyles, piercings, clothes. You could completely rebrand yourself anytime you want.”

“She’s not talking about her appearance,” you said softly, squeezing Morgan’s hand, “she means… like, changing who you are, at your very core. Things you can’t help.”

“I get that,” Ryan chimed in, “I think about that, too. If I could change one thing about myself, I would make myself more motivated. My life would be so different if I could just… alter one tiny thing.”

“Exactly!” Morgan nodded. “I would… make myself less impulsive, I think. I have so many regrets, and it’s all because I never properly think before I act. I’d be so much better off if I could just learn to be more careful.”

“I like how spontaneous you are,” Isobel hummed, “but I think I know what you mean. If I could change anything about myself, I’d make myself less anxious. Anxiety has always held me back so much… I mean, fuck… I haven’t even come out to my family yet, even though I know they’d support me. I’d be so much happier if I could appreciate the good things in life, rather than stress about how to keep them.”

“I’m with Isobel,” Harry spoke. He’d just taken a rather large pull from the joint, so his voice came out rougher than gravel. “Anxiety is such a bitch, and it’s like, out of our control. It’s kept me from talking about my feelings so many times, and I feel like I’ve missed out on some really good friendships because of it.”

Despite the heaviness of the conversation, you felt happier than you had in a long time. You’d smoked just enough to feel numb, and the waves were rocking against the boat so gently that it felt like you were floating. You took a deep breath in through your nose, feeling the crisp forest air fill your lungs before exhaling. The stars were shining in the cloudless sky, crickets were chirping along the shore, and soft music was filtering through the cheap boat stereo. It was peaceful, listening to your friends pour their hearts out.

Each person took a turn sharing what they would change about themselves. Archie would get rid of his bad temper, James would become a better listener, and Jane would be less self-conscious.

“What would you change?” Morgan turned to look at you.

You and your twin sister were very different people. So different, in fact, that you sometimes forgot that you were identical. In moments like this, when her eyes were watery and hooded, voice thick with sadness and hope, that you were reminded of how similar you could be.

“If I could change anything about myself….” you mused, closing your eyes. “I think I would… let things go.”

“Let things go?” Archie echoed.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “like, let go of the past. Whenever something bad happens to me, I let it really get to me. Negative memories and feelings just… constantly eat away at me. I wish I could just wake up in the morning and think about the future… because thinking about the past is exhausting.”

Nobody spoke after your confession. Nobody tried to assure anyone that they would be okay, or convince anyone that they didn’t need to change. There was something comforting about lying in a circle with your friends, your sister… even Harry, because you were all flawed, and none of you knew what the future would bring. You all found solace in the fact that you were here, right now, laying in a circle on a boat, with an old jazz song ringing through the air.

And who knows… maybe someday, you’ll all find a way to change the parts of yourselves that bother you. Maybe you’ll learn to appreciate them. Maybe your flaws will end up helping you in the long run.

But for now, none of you were alone. And that was enough.

~~~

Thank you for reading! I love getting feedback, so let me know what you thought! xoxoxoxoxoooooxxxxxxooooooxxxoooo Tile

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry #styles #pypfc #pick your poison fic challenge #enemies to lovers #m&bc #miles and black coffee #multi-part fic #part 1

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years

Text

Acutely (coda to 15x13 ‘Destiny’s Child’, Dean/Cas, 2.5k)

ao3 link

Jack said he's sorry, after getting his soul back.

Jack said he's sorry, and he's looking at Dean. They're all looking at Dean.

Jack said he's sorry, and Dean can't take it. It's too much. Like a frog thrown into a boiling pot he hops out, jumping out from the room towards safety. Doing his best not to succumb to the pain.

He can't hide forever, let the wounds fester. It's too much to deal with on his own, though. Can someone help him through it?

It’s no secret, where he hides. Where he ran away to after Jack broke down in an apology. Overwhelmed by the sorrow in the younger boy’s voice; his remorse for actions Dean hadn’t mentioned in so long. Dean barely made it before his knees buckled, collapsing on his bed instead of the floor. Face pressed against the pillow Dean counted his breaths while ignoring the heavy lump sitting in his throat.

He loses track after seventy-five, mumbling ‘one… two… three… four… five…’ over and over until he felt like his feet were farther from the edge than they had been. As he lifts his head, Dean takes stock of himself. Grimaces at how sweat dampens both his shirts, dark fabric clinging annoyingly underneath oppressive denim. And as the knot unwound in his stomach, Dean realizes he hadn’t eaten yet. Hunger gnaws at his awareness, begging for attention. Thinking about food, though, guides his paths towards the kitchen and – ultimately – Jack, again.

There’s not much of an appetite left after that.

Instead he blindly throws off his outer layer, then his undershirt. Bends, clawing at his laces and when they unravel, he yanks them and his socks off, too. Discards his jeans by flinging them into some far corner. Red boxer-briefs are all that remain, for the moment. In the next second Dean reaches for a set of pajamas. Picks the set at the top of the pile. Cowboys riding bucking broncos on the pants while lasso script spells out ‘Save a Horse’ on the shirt. As he pulls it overhead, he hears something shift nearby. Turning, Dean finds Cas watching him from the hallway.

“Crap,” he hisses, tugging the shirt down. Cheeks burning under Cas’s intense gaze, “Ever hear of knocking?” Instincts say he should cover himself, but midway through wrapping arms around his midsection Dean realizes what a ridiculous notion that is. Actions aborted Dean’s fingers twitch before they retake his shirt’s hem. Twisting it as the awkward silence continues. “Cas?”

This breaks Cas from whatever trance he fell under. Cas steps into his room, “Sorry, Dean, you left your door open.”

“Right…” If his hands weren’t busy strangling fabric one would be rubbing a hole into the back of his neck. “I – uh, must’ve forgotten.” Dean finally fights back the static drowning his mind, releasing his shirt hem. “What uh… what’re you doing here?”

“I came to check on you.”

Sweet, but totally despicable. Cas’s earnest tone easily overpowers his crumbling defenses, making the flush across his skin deepen. Lips pursed, Dean dips his eyes so he won’t fall prey to the deadliest of his angel’s weapons. Angel blades have nothing on those baby blues. “Thanks,” he coughs, shrugging, “but I wasn’t the one having a full breakdown five feet from the cookie cereal…” He sits down once more, at the foot of his bed, squeezing his knees. “How is Jack, by the way?”

“He’s calmed, somewhat,” Cas tells him, slowly pacing Dean’s room. Picks up Dean’s stray button-down, loosely folding it while he talks. “Sam had a brilliant idea of taking him for a drive.”

“A drive? Is that allowed?”

“Well, Billie didn’t appear and tell us no….” He sets the shirt on Dean’s dresser, claiming the nearby chair for his own. “They left awhile ago. Not sure when they’ll be back.”

“Awhile, huh?” Dean snorts, arching a stern brow. “And you’re only visiting me now?”

Cas stiffens, “Yes. You see – um…” Stuttering, Cas stalls for time as he thinks up an answer.

Tension leaks out of Dean’s shoulders watching him, seeing his angel go through human motions. Dragging a hand through his hair and pulling at his tie, both alight a familiar warmth in his heart. He snuffs that flame a second later, knowing how dangerous it would be if he let it keep. “Kidding,” Dean sighs, smiling, “I’m glad you waited. Probably wouldn’t have been this… chatty?”

“Of course…” Cas says, nodding, “I figured you’d need some time alone… to – to sort through things.”

He’s being generous. Dean used all his strength to not remember the pain stricken across Jack’s face. The wound is still so fresh, Jack ripping off the scabs with a frenzy caused by his soul’s return. Mary’s death hurting like it happened yesterday. “Maybe you should’ve given me five or ten more minutes, then,” he chuckles, tapping at his temple, “still a mess up here.”

“Hmm…”

“Hmm what?”

“Oh, nothing –“

“Bullshit, Cas,” Dean leans forward, a more devilish expression on his face, “C’mon. Tell me what’s going on in your mind.”

“Nothing you probably don’t already know,” Cas says, “I’m… trying to wrap my head around this whole day. Jack getting his soul back… it’s remarkable. But also, troubling. How could that even be possible and – and will it last?”

“Don’t think about it too much, man,” he says, “what happened with Jack it’s… it’s a gift. Probably one of the few we’ve ever gotten that’s come with no strings attached. A win.”

“Have we ever gotten a win like that?”

It’d be so simple. Unfortunately, Dean chomps off the head of his one-word confession. Swallows the three-letters alongside all his other feelings. By the time the corpse of it decomposes in his stomach, Dean realizes it’s been too long since he last spoke. Cas waiting, staring at him. An awkward chuckle bubbles forth, his breath reeking of ashen sincerity. “Bout time we got one, then, don’t you think?”

He concedes, mouth thinning in a cunning smile. “I suppose we are… but enough about what I think.” Dean’s lips pinch tight. “I think we’ve delayed the inevitable conversation. Don’t you?”

“No,” he says, “we can delay it some more. Like… what was up with those bootleg versions of us?” Dean scoffs, “I bet that other me doesn’t even know what pie tastes like… too busy cramming caviar down his throat.”

“You might enjoy caviar. I hear it’s very popular?”

“Caviar’s only popular because it’s expensive,” Dean tells him, “and all those rich dudes spent too much money on it to hate it, so they lie and convince others it’s good and it’s an awful, self-servicing cycle.”

“I didn’t know you had such strong opinions on caviar?”

“I’ve got strong opinions on just about everything…” Dean makes the mistake of glancing up, catching sight of Cas’s judgmental bend of his brow. “But you don’t wanna hear any of those…”

“Not right now, no…” Cas stands, drifting towards his door. “I guess you were right, you do need more time by yourself. Perhaps in the morning –“

“Shit, Cas, I’m sorry,” he says, rising, grabbing his elbow. The touch sears even through the jackets and shirt; Dean’s grasp on it firms, savoring it. “Y’know how… how tough this has got to be for me, right?” His throat cracks on the last word, eyes glistening. He feels the tears brimming behind them, pooling, waiting for release.

Cas sighs, dropping any pretense of exiting. “I do,” he says, hand hovering over Dean’s briefly. Considering if he should. A short argument, as it gently embraces his hand; the one chaining Cas to him. “That’s why I want you to speak. Free yourself of the burden… let me help carry it with you.”

“You don’t have to, Cas,” Dean says, “You’ve got your own things, worries t’deal with –“

“That won’t stop me.”

Stubborn. A double-edged sword that makes up the arsenal of Cas’s traits, all weapons Dean would gladly throw himself on.

Cas quiets, then, waiting for Dean and his response. Words were unneeded. Dean can decipher all he thinks by looking into his angel’s eyes. Captivating, whether in the harsh fluorescents of his bedroom or the soft moonlight of an abandoned church. They always make his head dizzy, thoughts unspooling like Dean drank half a bottle of whiskey or smoked three joints. The more he stays the course, the worse it gets. He nearly forgot hellhounds were baring down on them, Sam their last defense against the creatures, because Cas’s eyes hold a magic that quells any fear or worry gnawing at Dean’s senses.

“Dean?”

“It hurt being around him,” Dean whispers his admittance, inching closer. Chests almost pressed together. Noses dangerously close. His toes practically climbing atop Cas’s dress shoe. “I hate that that’s true but… it is. Because as glad as I was to see the kid still kicking it… I’m just reminded of her.” Cas’s thumb rubs a comforting circle into his knuckles, Dean dropping his gaze there. “Reminded of what he did. How he just didn’t… didn’t get it, y’know. Couldn’t tell that it was bad. He – there was still this… this disconnect. And after he came back I could tell he’d look at me and try to find the words t’apologize but they were never there. And without them, we’d never move past it. He’d still be hurting, and so would I… Which sucks because – because I know you think of him as your son, but y’know… I think of him as mine, too –“

“I like to think of him as ours, Dean.”

“Yes, well…” he clears his throat, tongue wetting his lips as he recovers. Dean chooses tactical evasion, ignoring Cas’s comment and moving on. “He’s like… my second chance. He is a second chance. A second coming, really – sorta like Jesus –“ He pauses, gaze darting towards Cas’s face. “That doesn’t matter. I just… I wanted to make things right with Jack, but he didn’t know how – and I sure didn’t know how. So we were circling each other, doing nothing. I could feel things festering. The happiness that came after Jack’s return began fading; instead of relief there’d be dread whenever he walked into a room. Got it into my head that things’d never get any better, and there was no way of fixing this rift between us.”

“But with his soul, he finally understands,” Cas says, “he’s apologized. That’s what you wanted?”

“It is. I… yeah,” Dean shudders, neck suddenly weak. It bends, Dean’s chin saved from touching his neck by Cas’s forehead supporting his. There noses are beside one another, lips a breath apart. “I know it’s for the best but… seeing him cry, all I wanted to do was hug him. Let him know it’d be all right. Except I ran I… I couldn’t say anything. He was hurting and that – that made me hurt even worse. And then I felt glad he could feel hurt… it sorta spiraled from there.”

Cas hums, Dean’s mouth vibrating with the note. “You were overwhelmed,” Cas says, “there’s no reason for you to be ashamed.”

“Yes, there is.” Dean scowls, “I’m middle-aged, can gank a monster twice my size without blinking, but the second a situation gets too touchy-feely I stomp on the gas and speed through all the red lights.” While Dean talked about Jack, a highlight reel of all his shortcomings playing on a giant screen in his mind. Times where Dean’s emotions short-circuited. Fried his circuits, caused him more pain than necessary. Many of those scenes feature a recurring character, shaped like a man in a trench coat. It flickers out, leaving Dean with a blank slate. That fades, too, and Cas’s face is there.

“It’s not fear, Dean. Not at all,” he says. Protest swells, but with a sharp look from Cas it wanes. “Trust me, as someone who knows you… knows your soul, you – you are not afraid of feelings. Not at all.” He smiles, Dean leaning back for the full effect. Blessed by heavenly light. “On the contrary,” Cas continues, “You embrace your emotions. Unfortunately… sometimes you feel too much and that – that can be particularly difficult to manage. I remember when I was human, sometimes the smallest of ripples in my heart caused me great pains. Something modest like being cold or hungry… or in pain, were too much for me to express. Your capacity for feelings, your intelligence and understanding it’s… fantastic. But there are limits. We all have them. You feel too much sometimes that you cannot express yourself or even deal with them.”

Dean’s tears prick at the corners of his eyes, dangling. Still unshed. “It does feel like that,” he says, “Sometimes it’s… like there’s a highway, and it’s rush hour. Traffic on – on all sides. No one’s moving, and I’m behind the wheel and I want to go but I can’t and I… I get so angry that I can’t.” He lets go of Cas, slipping from his loose grip. “S’what I’m feeling right now.”

Cas accepts Dean’s need for distance, hands retreating into his pockets. “And what I’m here, to tell you, is this. You might be behind the wheel, but you’re hardly alone in that car. Sam’s there. Jack’s there. And I am most certainly there.”

Dean nods, wiping a hand down his face. “Thank you, Cas. I… needed this.”

“I’m glad to be of service, then.” Cas’s tone fell, a discordant pluck of the harp that triggered Dean’s worry. Before he could ask about it, his angel floats away. “I should let you get your rest. Today was exhausting…”

Halfway out the door, Dean stops him. “Cas, wait!”

“Yes?”

Standing there, framed by his doorway, waiting for Dean to continue with shining eyes, Dean thinks his angel never looked more gorgeous. And he wants to tell him. Despite how the words stick in his throat, the sweat dripping from his forehead, and how his feelings might be received, he wants to tell him. He wants to tell him everything. Finally.

That flame from earlier, snuffed out, relights. Burns hotter than Baby’s engine gunning down the highway. Ballooning, spreading through his veins and disorienting him. The room spins, his vision blurs, but Cas stays clear and firm. It’s right there, on the tip of his tongue –

“Yes, Dean?”

He’s cold. Doused by an untimely thought that quells any of his passionate desires, leaving him charred, ashen, and helpless.

Dean notices the frown lines around his mouth. The way his eyes drooped in a way they’ve never done. Shadows stretch across his body, slithering, hiding most of his expression from Dean. But he senses a tiredness there that, on Cas, seems foreign.

The moment passes. It wouldn’t feel right, anyway.

“Just…” his face hurts from the tight grin he forces, “I go both ways.” Blushing, he amends his statement. “I mean, I don’t have to give you all my baggage – I can… I can also help you carry some of yours, if you’d like?”

Cas tilts his head, light revealing a gentle smile. “I’d like that. Night, Dean.”

“Night Cas…”

A closing door never felt more ominous.

Dean stares at it, chewing on his lip. Chest aching, heart beating against it with the force of a storm wreaking havoc. He walks towards the switch, flipping it off. Bathing the room in shadows. Making it easier. “Cas,” he says aloud, looking ahead into the endless darkness. “I love you. After this is all over, and we don’t have any more fights heading our way… I’d like for you to stay. With me. And we can have the life we both deserve. I just… I want you to know what I’m fighting for. It’s not the world. It’s you. It’s us.”

He slips under the covers. Talking to empty air didn’t make the feelings disappear, or easier in dealing with. But it’s a start.

Maybe he’ll do better in the morning.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel coda #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #spn #spn15 #15x13 destiny's child #better late than never lol

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funkzpiel · 4 years

Text

the infinite dance of stars and dust and all that falls between

[ The Witcher / Stardust AU ] - Read it on AO3 Pairing: Jaskier/Geralt Featuring: Star!Geralt, Cursed!Emhyr, Barren!Yennefer, Soft Boys!Regis & Dettlaff (eventually)

Decided to release this in chapters to help me feel productive and have obtainable goals, lmao. Should only be like 3 chapters though, I think. I don’t even know what else to say, hahaha, perhaps this is finally my mental breakdown. 🤔

“Would a coward or a cad vow to breach the Wall to retrieve that falling star for you?”

“Well, no—” She said, battering her lashes, thick and sooty against fair cheeks.

Jaskier gathered her slim hands in his, brushed them against his lips as he took a knee before her and thus vowed, “Then I take this oath to do just that, my lady. I will prove myself worthy of your affections. I will conquer the Wall and all that lies beyond it. I will fetch that falling star for you, bottle it in a bulb and make for you the most fantastic necklace anyone has ever seen. Then no one could question your beauty, your loveliness or my dedication to you – not with a star shining about your neck. You can consider it my betrothal gift. Surely that outshines any ring anyone else has offered.”

“If you bring me that star, I’m yours.”

Jaskier thought of those words often. Sometimes the memory thrilled him, knowing how brave his lady’s brilliance had made him. Sometimes the memory led to nothing but a string of invective curses that sent the birds sputtering from their branches. He was beyond the Wall , he reminded himself for the umpteenth time. The. Wall. Where witchcraft ruled and sorcerers sacrificed fair maidens and monsters lived off the flesh of mortals quite like himself – foolish young adventurers who lost their way, more often than not, and he didn’t even know where he was going to start with! Well… he didn’t know how to get back, specifically. Getting there wouldn’t be a problem – not with the candle his mother had left for him.

A candle that, once lit, could take him anywhere he wanted to go. Perhaps, if he were very lucky, there'd be enough left to get home after, too.

“Take me to the fallen star,” he whispered as he lit it, far enough away from the Wall and his village to be certain that no one had come to drag him back. He hadn’t been ready for the violence of that magic, lured into a sense of peace by an item as innocent as a candle. Jaskier hadn’t been prepared to be thrown through space as magic pinched the world, dragging him from just outside the wall across fields and rivers and miles of land, and forward into something hot and solid. The world stopped spinning, but he was most definitely no longer standing.

Jaskier scrambled up, hands catching on firm flesh and quite a lot of it. Not just flesh. Pectorals. A man’s chest. He lifted himself up, looked down at the body he had bulldozed in his mad, magic infused dash across the continent, and felt his breath stolen from his lungs. There was a man beneath him. A man, laid flat on his back, his head haloed in a circle of fine silver hair more akin to silk than the ill-kempt hair of most men. Fair skin, flawless and clear like a still pond. Eyes that shone like the sun, glimmering and unlike anything Jaskier had ever seen in a mortal man’s face before. A man spun from the sun and the stars and the sky itself. Beautiful and… vibrating? Ah wait, no ~ growling. That couldn’t be good.

Emhyr watched Queen Calanthe’s ruby - now a stone of white as beautiful and lovely as any star - jet off into the night. Three heads of noble bloodlines from across the globe all whipped to watch it disappear. And from her sickbed Calanthe merely grinned as though she had won some great game, looking so powerful and proud instead of small or dying. But she was, without doubt, dying. She eyed the male suitors of whom she had invited into her bedchambers and said from her sickbed, “Only one of you can wed my daughter, and while I will not yet survive the night to judge you fully as I should, instead I bequeath this quest. If you think yourself worthy of my daughter, you will find that ruby. If your touch returns its royal red color, the great many spells that Mousesack has bewitched upon the jewel will have deemed you worthy - and so it shall be done. But know this, only a man of royal blood can change that ruby’s color. A man of intellect, brave enough to lead this empire to glory. He must embody the spirit of a lion and more, and until such a man finds it, my daughter shall grow and lead in peace. Any attempt to force the ruby, to steal it from someone who rightfully changed it, or any other misleading act will see misfortune upon the liar so great, he will reach and wish for death, but never grasp it.”

Emhyr watched from behind the safety of his platemail and helm as Calanthe breathed her last, fully thinking her daughter’s path secured. Whether she live and lead alone or beside a man of proven worth, it did not matter. She would be spared the touch of the power hungry or malicious, and for Calanthe, that was enough.

And all the while, Emhyr knew a truth that even Calanthe did not understand. That Pavetta was his, promised to him by Calanthe’s late husband the king, and the key to restore his human flesh. In that moment he had no doubt that the ruby was meant for him and him alone, and while the royal suitors bickered amongst themselves, Emhyr discreetly saw himself out while none were looking. It was easy enough. He shouldn’t have been there anyways, as any of them saw it. He had requested an audience with the queen when news had spread of her imminent demise, no longer content to wait until Pavetta’s courting ball. Thankfully urgency had bid her ignore his helm. She assumed him another suitor - and did not worry. In her eyes, no man was fit for the stone anyway. So why worry? And the others saw only a knight, perhaps one favored by the queen. A man of no consequence.

Let them think that, it only served him in the end.

Emhyr took the fastest horse from the stable and set off in the direction the jewel had gone.

The witches of Aretuza - or what remained of them - stood atop their mountain dwelling, surrounded by crisp white moonflowers before the pale fall of the moon itself, and watched the stars just as their scrying had bid them to. Ahead of them all, Tessaia stood with ancient hands clasped behind her back - spine rigid and strict despite the way that age and abuse of magic had wilted her.

“There,” she breathed as finally it happened. A faint white gem shot into the night. With a burst, it collided with the ageless lights twinkling above and just as predicted, a star fell from the fabric of the night above. She watched it fall, watched it disappear far into the distance. But she had a direction, that was all that mattered.

Behind her, ancient and weathered faces were alight with hunger and hope. For the witches of Aretuza had squandered their power for eons in the name of researching and controlling chaos, and in doing so had also paid a great and terrible price - their health, their beauty.

Of the four witches that stood atop the mountain, only one had not been touched by time. Yennefer. Tall, slender, and beautiful, she stepped forward to peer off in the direction the star had fallen. She was too young to need it, too new to the ways in which the women of Aretuza abused magic to understand its use. But she knew why they would want it - what lord or king would listen to a withered old hag? They needed youth to continue controlling the free world, to continue shaping it.

But Yennefer had different plans. Revenge and salvation all in one.

“I will go after it,” she offered, enthusiasm masked beneath a weaving lie of loyalty. But in this moment, no lie could stand - for the witches of Aretuza trusted not even one another when it came to the power of stars.

“No,” Tessaia said, “I will go. As leader of this school, it is my right to fetch it.”

Yennefer watched them squabble and bicker. Watched as they drew from deep in the reaches of Aretuza’s stronghold a simple black box. Its lid was lifted and from within, a brilliant light - nearly painful to gaze upon were it not so small - bled out from the cracks and crevices. Tessaia took the brilliant little flame in hand and deftly ate it, beauty blooming from within and spreading without until her hair regrew again, and her skin pulled taut and rosy. Suddenly there were two young, beautiful women among the four leaders of Aretuza. Which was dangerous. Incredibly so.

Tessaia ordered that the school continue its teachings, packed a bag, selected a mount, and disappeared into the night. It was simple enough for Yennefer disappear after that - no one but Tessaia had ever considered her to be a threat, after all.

And Yennefer wanted something more keenly than any witch seeking pure beauty could ever understand, for she had already suffered the consequences of shallow dreams already. Aretuza had used the allure of beauty to steal the life from her womb, to control her. And never again would Yennefer fall for such a trick again. She’d take the star before any Aretuza witch could so much as look at it, and in doing so she’d steal from them something as precious as they had stolen from her: their opportunity to restore what they had squandered. And perhaps, with a little luck, something more as well. Something priceless.

“Get. Off,” the stranger beneath him snarled so viciously that Jaskier could feel the man’s chest rumbling beneath his fingers.

“Oh? Oh!” He stuttered, picking himself up quickly. “My apologies, I’m afraid that was my first time using a magic… candle…”

Which reminded him - the candle was still in his hand, half the size but still present. It could likely get him back, a boon that nearly stole the strength from his knees in relief. The thought of wandering however far back had been a daunting one. He tucked it delicately away, eyes darting to the stranger he had none too kindly cannonballed mere moments ago. He was a strange one, that was for certain. Taller than Jaskier, though not outrageously so. He had the build of a warrior, and yet he wore something that nearly looked like high waisted silver silk trousers and a thin, wispy white blouse of a shirt. The clothing was pale, nearly glowing in the light, and despite the mundane and simple tailoring of it all, it looked ethereal. Otherworldly, even.

And about his neck, contrasting greatly with his simple clothing, was a thick band of gold topped off with one of the largest diamonds that Jaskier had ever seen. All in all, between the dark grimace, the intimidating bulk, soft clothing and expensive amulet, the man was a painting of conundrums and contradictions. Jaskier almost didn’t even know where to begin.

“I, uh - what are you doing in a place like this?” He finally asked when the man began pacing, eyes up on the night sky with a fierce scowl. A place like this, specifically, meaning a crater. A black, smoldering hole in the forest that had torn trees straight up from their roots and obliterated the ground for miles. Almost as though… Jaskier jumped, suddenly spinning wildly around as he looked, “Oh! Have you seen a fallen star, by the way?”

The man suddenly stilled and glared at him, jaw set tight.

“Hilarious,” he grunted.

“No really, a star should have fallen over here somewhere,” Jaskier said seriously as he began to pace, looking for any sign of a rock - anything that might look like a star. Did they still glow when they fell, he wondered. Would it be large or small? Large, he assumed, based off the crater, and yet nothing stood out at all. Not so much as one pebble, even. He frowned and crossed his arms with a soft, wondering, “How odd…”

The stranger glared up at the sky as though daring the gods - or perhaps the stars - to laugh before he rubbed his palms on his trousers and said, “You already found it.”

“I did?” Jaskier asked with owlish eyes, suddenly patting his pockets in case he had in fact found it and merely forgot somehow. But nothing felt new or out of place. “Are you certain?”

“Quite certain,” the man said, taking a step forward only to wince. Albeit not so much a wince as a delicate flinching of the muscles in his jaw. Jaskier turned to him, lips drawn in a worried line.

“Did I hurt you when I…?”

“You, no,” the man snarled, trying to take another step with a steadily growing growl of irritation. He managed to place more weight on it, but seemed frustrated despite the small success. “No, some stuck up royal bastard threw an enchanted rock into the sky and knocked me down.”

Jaskier put his hands on his hips, impressed, and asked, “Are you a writer?”

The man gave him a baffled, irked look and with a snort continued applying pressure to his ankle. Slowly, as the moment hung between them, Jaskier felt his jaw loosen and drop.

“You’re quite serious, aren’t you?”

“Not known for being much else.”

“ You’re the bloody star!” Jaskier exclaimed, eyes darting up as though he might see an obvious mark in the night where the stranger had once hung.

“I’m the bloody star,” the man agreed, one tooth exposed by the angry curl of his lip.

Jaskier leaned back, staring at the man seriously for a pregnant moment that left the stranger looking somewhat uncomfortable, before he finally threw his hands out at his sides and declared, “How could I have been so blind! Of course you are the star! How else might one explain you? Your hair made of starlight as it is, your skin as flawless as the purest marble - and the sense of you, where do I even begin? Of course you’re the star.”

The stranger looked at him as though Jaskier were the one injured, not he, and asked, “I think that candle scrambled your brains more than the fall scrambled mine.”

Jaskier walked forward suddenly, one hand thrust out as he said with a charming smile, “I am Jaskier, the infamous bard of the village of Wall and soon to be the husband of the most lovely countess ever to exist. A pleasure,” as though the star had not just questioned his sanity.

With a confused little frown between his brows, the star slowly took his outstretched hand and said, “Geralt,” only for his confusion to bleed away to fury when the bard deftly slipped a chain of silver around his wrist and jumped back, a delicate line of twinkling silver hanging between them. Geralt watched the loop around his wrist close seamlessly, then yanked only to scowl when the chain didn’t break. Jaskier stumbled a step closer as a result, however, before bolting back again with a sheepish, “I’m sorry, Geralt - lovely name by the way - but I’m afraid I must insist you come to Wall with me. I promised my dear Victoria a star, you see, and if I don’t bring you to her she’ll never marry me.”

Geralt stared at him for a very, very long time before yanking the chain again, sending Jaskier sputtering into the dirt.

“Hey!” He gasped, struggling onto his elbows, hands grasping on the chain for dear life - but Geralt was already walking away, dragging the bard with him through the dirt despite the way his ankle flagged his steps. “Hey!”

“What?” Geralt grunted, otherwise ignoring the way the bard flailed behind him, dragging him along with an ease that definitely proved without a shadow of a doubt that he was no mere man.

“Wall is the other way!”

“I’m not going to Wall.”

“What!” Jaskier squawked, “But Victoria-”

“-Not my problem.”

“And where are you - ah, rock! - going to go, huh? Last I checked, there’s no staircase to heaven!” Jaskier snarled ferally as he was dragged over rocks and broken bits of trees.

“I’ll figure it out,” Geralt mumbled distractedly, as though Jaskier’s arguments and struggling were of no real consequence to him as he kept walking, eyes scanning.

“But I need to present you to Victoria!”

“Again, not my problem.”

“Yes, well, I…” Jaskier grimaced as the candle dug into his hip in his pocket, then suddenly grinned, “Oh! Let’s make a deal!”

“Not interested,” Geralt grunted.

“No truly, star, I swear you’ll want to hear me out!”

With a sigh, Geralt stopped - eyes drifting to the heavens again out of sheer sour exasperation, before he finally turned to glare down at the bard being dragged behind him and ground out a short, “Twenty seconds.”

Sensing an opening, Jaskier quickly scrambled to right himself into a better sitting position.

“Don’t even need that. You come with me to Wall and I,” Jaskier said, pausing for theatrical effect as he reached into his pocket, “Will give you this .”

He presented his black Babylon Candle with a flourish and a knowing grin, and if anything Geralt’s jaw just tightened - annoyed that the bard was right. He did have something of use. It was small for a Babylon Candle. Used once already. But it would be enough to get him back into the night sky, and that was hardly an offer he could turn away from. His scowl darkened, amber eyes darting up from the candle to search Jaskier’s face.

The world wasn’t safe for stars, Geralt knew this. He had seen what witches and wizards and men did with their hearts first hand. But either the bard in front of his was a spectacular liar or he had no idea the sort of power Geralt had locked away inside his chest. And so long as Geralt was careful, there was no reason why that would ever change.

“Alright,” he finally groused. “I’ll go with you to Wall, meet your Victoria - but after that, the candle is mine.”

“Agreed,” Jaskier said with a grin, bouncing up from the ground and onto his heels. Then, with a gentle tug, he announced, “Then off to Wall!”

#the witcher #geraskier #stardust au #geralt of rivia #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #Emhyr var Emreis #star!geralt #Witcher Writing

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aniray · 4 years

Text

Where You Least Expect It... Part 4

Part 4 of 5

@maryams-things

~*~

Day 217

Tommy leaned against the side of his car. Lizzie was doing a final walk-through of the guest house. He’d drive her to her apartment- the truck too high for her to get into. The last box was put into the back and Tommy watched as one of the men pulled down the door. A flare of anger rushed through him- dark and violent. His fist clenched at his side as the men got into the truck and drove off.

The anger only grew when Lizzie stepped out of the house. She eased down the front steps as Tommy watched. It was small, but he still saw the hesitation when she reached the last step. Like she didn’t want to leave. Like she had no fucking choice. He forced himself to relax, to keep his face blank. But the closer she got, the angrier he became.

“Ready?”

Her voice was quiet- hesitant. Like it had been at the beginning, before the dinners and the fucking talks and the laughs. Back when she was just the surrogate and not Lizzie. The anger burned deeper in his veins. He didn’t respond- just opened her door and helped her in. He forced himself to take a deep breath while he walked to the driver’s side. He’d known this was coming. He’d known the day would come when things had to end.

He started the car and pulled away from the house. He’d done it dozens of times- after visiting with Lizzie, taking her for a drive. He’d come and gone from this house more times in the past six and a half months than any time before. But this time his hands gripped the wheel too tight and the idea of driving away made him want to fucking hit something.

“Tom?” He cut his eyes towards the woman beside him. She bit her lip the way she did when she wanted to say something he didn’t want to hear. And he knew what it was. “I think- Maybe when I get back-” She let out a sigh and from the corner of his eye he saw her blink back tears. “Think it’d be best if we all kept our distance from here on out. Don’t want to get attached, yeah?”

Fucking late for that. “Still got doctor’s appointments.” She nodded. “Grace’ll want to visit- check up on things.” Things like the baby. Things like whether Lizzie was being reckless. She nodded again. His grip tightened on the wheel again. “Alright. Yeah, alright, Lizzie. Grace can do all that, then.” The words tasted like dirt in his mouth. Made him want to smoke. Made him wish he had a fucking whiskey.

She turned her face to the window. Her fingers bunched the bottom of her shirt. The anger flared again. “That sounds good,” she whispered. “Thanks, Tommy.” He didn’t look at her. He didn’t say anything. There was nothing to fucking say. Just kept his eyes on the road as they sped towards Lizzie’s shitty fucking apartment. There was a new landlord, though. Like she’d heard his thoughts, Lizzie said, “At least I don’t have to worry about Joe.” Her fingers smoothed out her shirt- bunched it again. “Heard the new guy’s okay. Doesn’t try anything with the girls.”

Again, he kept quiet. The rest of the drive was silent. By the time he pulled into the parking lot of Lizzie’s apartment the anger was gone. In its place was a restlessness he refused to name. The movers were already unloading the truck. Tommy watched people peek out their windows to see what was happening. He’d have a man keep an eye on her- make sure nothing happened. “I’ll walk you up.” She turned and looked at him for a long moment, her gaze weighty in a way he didn’t want to think about.

“Goodbye, Tommy.”

She went up alone.

~*~

She’d been gone a week. One fucking week. And he kept seeing her. Every time he closed his fucking eyes, she was there, mucking about in his head. She’d show up in his damn dreams- laughing and smiling that Lizzie smile. It was worse than his nightmares. Worse than the memories of his mother’s broken bones or the burn of his father’s cigarettes. Because she didn’t belong. Not in his head like this. Not in his fucking bed. He couldn’t do that to Grace.

But Grace barely looked at him anymore. She didn’t sleep beside him at night. She pretended to, she’d wait until she thought he was sleeping before she snuck out. But he didn’t sleep much- never had. And so he’d lay in their fucking bed trying to understand what the hell had happened to his wife. Only to wake up with Lizzie’s face clear as day in his mind- following him out of his dreams.

He’d fallen into work- pushed his people hard, pushed himself harder. He’d started taken the horses out, running them until man and beast were both tired and shaking. And he’d drink. He’d drink until everything was so fucking hazy- a pleasant lack of clarity to keep her from finding him. But it didn’t work. None of it worked. Because she’d still be there, under his skin and in his head.

He paced the floor of his study. Grace had come and gone again. He’d tried, he’d fucking tried, but she was locked away farther than he could reach. And he was tired of dealing with the woman wearing his wife’s face. He turned at the end of his desk and his eyes went to the guest house. It sat dark and empty.

It was strange. That house had sat empty for almost four years. He’d never seen it lit up at night before Lizzie. She’d been in it for little more than half a year. But it felt like she’d been there forever- like there’d always been a light on, a beacon for him during his long nights. Made no sense. Sounded like something Ada would toss out from one of those books she liked so much.

But he didn’t look away. The feeling didn’t go away. Instead another crept up on him- slipped into his blood where he couldn’t get it out. This pull- this need to see her. A noise from upstairs made him think of Grace. He thought about the way she’d looked the day he married her- beautiful and light and his. He thought of how she’d been lately- aloof and lost in shadows. But then his eyes were back on the guest house and that pull was even sharper. Fucking desperate.

He grabbed his keys and left.

He had her pressed against the wall as soon as she opened the door. “Get out of my fucking head.” He was breathing hard. From the stairs, from the drive, from her- he didn’t even know. His forehead as pressed to hers. Her wrists were caught in his hands. He could feel the firm swell of her belly- the baby kicked. “Damn you, Lizzie Stark. I can’t do this. I can’t do this to Grace. I won’t. You’ve got to get out of my head.”

She tugged one hand- he let go. Then her palm was pressed to his cheek. This was the closest they’d ever been. It scared him. How right it felt. How much he wanted to be closer. But he pushed the thought away- focused on the warmth of her palm and the stutter of her breath. “Go home, Tommy.” Her voice was hoarse and shaky, but it stopped the noise in his head. Her other hand twisted free, fingers twined with his. “Tommy, please. Please, Tom. Go home.”

His head dropped to her shoulder, his face pressed into the curve of her neck. “No use. You’re haunting me.” The hand that had been on his cheek found its way to the back of his head, fingers curling in his hair. His hands found her waist- held her still, kept her close. His mind slowed, sank into a comfort that was purely Lizzie. And maybe she felt it, too, because her breathing evened out and her pulse slowed.

“I’ll stop. I’ll stop haunting you, alright? I’ll stop.”

He cursed himself even as he held her tighter.

“Don’t.”

~*~

Day 241

It should have been better.

Lizzie was gone. There were no more dinners at the guest house. Thomas didn’t see her. He even stayed in the car during the doctor’s appointments. He only asked about the baby, never Lizzie. And it made Grace’s heart feel lighter. She had even slept in their room the other night. She hadn’t been able to do that for…too long. And it should have felt like an accomplishment. It should have felt wonderful.

But it hadn’t. Nothing felt wonderful. Nothing felt like it should. Because as much as he tried to hide it, Thomas had slipped away. She’d pushed him away. And now they were so far apart Grace couldn’t see how to get them back to where they had been. He didn’t sleep anymore. He only ate if she made him. And he was always, always, working. It was his way of hiding from things- it always had been.

The only thing he truly cared about, the only thing that could pull him out of his work-induced haze, was the baby. Grace had always known that Thomas would be an amazing father. She’d known he’d be strict, but fair. She knew he’d be playful and kind and everything his own father hadn’t been. So when he stopped working or drinking or pacing simply because she mentioned the baby… Grace wanted to believe it was a good thing- pure paternal love. She’d never been good at lying to herself, though.

Staring at the plate in front of her, Grace tried to think of something to say. It had been two days since she’d exchanged more than banal pleasantries with her husband. And for all the thoughts constantly swirling in her mind, she couldn’t find a single thing to say to the man across the table from her. Her eyes lifted briefly, immediately going to Thomas. But outwardly he was the same as he had always been. His plate was empty, a glass of whiskey on his right-hand side. His body both relaxed and tense in a way she’d only seen in Thomas.

He looked at her. She forced herself not to look away. She could see him planning is words. He’d always done that, just never with her. She dropped her gaze. “When are you going to stop hiding? Running away?” Her hands slid from the table, fingers gripping tightly in her lap. “I’ve tried, Grace- to be patient, to understand. I’m still trying.” Her nails bit into her skin. She should look at him. She should tell him what she was feeling. This was her chance to bridge the chasm between them.

“I don’t know what you mean, Thomas.”

She met his eyes once more. But there was nothing. She was staring at a stranger where only moments ago her husband had been. She felt cold. She felt lost and afraid. She didn’t know why she’d said it. She didn’t know why she couldn’t just be honest with him. She forced her hands apart. Some instinct demanded that she not show how broken she was. It demanded that she lift her fork and eat. It forced her to sip her wine, slowly, as if her world wasn’t imploding under the weight of her silence.

Another minute ticked by. Then Thomas rose from his seat. Palms pressed to the table, he leaned in close. “In a month there will be a baby in this house. In a month we won’t have the luxury of ignoring whatever the fuck this is.” He stood straight, but his eyes grew colder, his voice sharper, with his next words. “I won’t raise my child with a stranger, Grace.” Then he was gone. She looked back to her plate. She picked up her fork and took a bite. Lifted her glass and sipped her wine.

She stopped.

The glass flew across the room.

She finished eating while wine dripped down the wall.

~*~

She threw herself into decorating. Her hair was tucked into a messy bun. A pair of old jeans had paint spots on them and her t-shirt sported more than one hole in it. The room was chaotic, but it was purposeful chaos. There was an unboxed crib that had yet to be assembled. The changing table was finished, but she still needed to stain it. There was a large tarp taped to the floor to catch spills, and there were quite a few. But the rug she was going to put down was tucked into the closet waiting to be used.

She needed this. She needed to do this. There wasn’t time or energy for anything else. No Thomas, no silence, no walls. There was just this room and making sure it was perfect. Each stenciled animal had to be perfect. Each little leaf and flower had to be precise. The right colors and shapes and textures. Each detail down to the smallest thing. That was the only thing that Grace could allow herself to care about- to spend her time on.

Footsteps stopped outside of the nursery. She knew it was Thomas. The staff had stopped coming to check on her hours ago. She’d noticed, but hadn’t really noticed. It was irrelevant, anyway. But Thomas- she knew he wouldn’t leave. Or maybe he would. Maybe they would live in this huge house and never speak outside of necessities. Maybe they would raise this baby together without ever truly being together the way they should be. She didn’t know. She couldn’t think about it.

Dipping a small brush into the forest green paint, Grace began filling in the leaves on the weeping willow mural painted over where the crib would go. She and Thomas had talked about this long before she realized she couldn’t have children. Mostly it had been her describing to Thomas what she thought would be soothing and what she hoped would make the room special. Thomas had listened, an indulgent smile on his face the entire time. As she painted the small leaves, it felt as if a lifetime had passed between those happy moments and the present.

It’ll be worth it once she’s born. Everything will fit again once the baby gets here.

A part of her said that a marriage was a lot to put on a baby. Some rational place inside her told Grace that babies rarely ease tensions. But like with everything else, she pushed such thoughts away and focused on creating the perfect haven for her little girl. The painters had done such a lovely job. The furniture would be beautiful when it was finished and in place. She could picture herself here, rocking her baby to sleep. She just had to hold on until then.

“Going to the office. Should be back in a few hours.”

She didn’t even turn to acknowledge that he’d spoken. When had ignoring Thomas become natural to her? A strange tightness pressed against her ribs. It made her breaths come less easily. And suddenly her mind was full of words she wanted to say. Dozens of apologies and explanations, every insecurity and hope and fear. She wanted to pour it all out at Thomas’s feet, let him wrap her up in his arms until she felt whole again. She heard the shuffle of his footsteps moving away and a sharp panic set in.

“Thomas?” she rushed to the nursery door. There he was, almost to the stairs. But he’d stopped. He’d waited. Even after all this, even when she didn’t know how to bridge the distance or what words to say. He was still there- waiting for her like always. He turned around to face her and she saw just how much she’d lost. She’d known, of course. She’d seen it in other moments and felt the pain. But now, outside of the room that their child would sleep, it seemed so much more real than those other times. “Do you still love me, Thomas?”

A stillness came over him that she’d never seen before. It was more than hesitation- it was… She didn’t know what it was. But it left her hollow. It left her frozen in ice, sharp pricks of pain radiating from every part of her. His hand dragged over his face. His fingers dug into his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. Then his hand dropped back to his side and a heavy sigh escaped him- like all the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders and it was too much for him to bear. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t come back until morning.

~*~

Day 272

Lizzie sat, eyes closed. Trying not to think about him. She’d tried to pretend. She’d tried to convince herself that nothing was changing- that nothing had changed. But it was hard to hold onto the lie. Things were different. She’d made a mistake. She’d gotten attached. Not just to the baby, though she couldn’t imagine walking away from her at the end of this. No, she’d gotten attached to Tommy. She’d gotten attached to his dry, almost morbid, humor and his rare smiles and the rough sound of his Brummie accent- an accent she hadn’t ever thought she’d miss.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d gotten a bit attached to her. Maybe he’d missed Small Heath in the same impossible way she did. Maybe he missed the boy he’d been when he saw glimpses of the girl she’d been. Maybe the bit of home she reminded him of had formed a bond between them. A bond that never should have been. A bond that she should have fought harder to ignore. But she hadn’t.

‘You’re haunting me.’

He was haunting her, too.

Almost two months had passed since that night- the night he’d shown up at her door and shattered the illusion she’d built around herself. She could still feel his breath on her neck and the softness of his hair. She could still feel the pounding of her heart from being so close to him. That night- everything it’d made her feel- that had been the reason she’d wanted him to stay away. Because she knew how it ended. ‘I can’t do that to Grace. I won’t.’ she’d never thought he would- never thought they’d be anything more than two people brought together by strange circumstances.

“Come on, Lizzie. Stop that.” It was something she found herself saying more and more as time went by. Standing up, with more than a bit of difficulty, she waddled to the kitchen. “Never thought I’d see the day. Lizzie Stark, big as a fucking cow.” Her hand dropped to her belly as the baby moved a bit. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind since it’s for you.” There wasn’t much room for her to move in there, but the baby kicked- almost like she approved of what Lizzie had said.

‘Grace’ll never go for it, but…I want to call her Ruby. Ruby Shelby sounds nice, right Liz?’

She paused at the sink to catch her breath. I’ll call you Ruby. When I think about you after. I won’t forget you. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, but she blinked hard to clear them away. God, it seemed like she was always ready to cry nowadays. It wasn’t hormones- most things were, but not this. No, this was just Lizzie missing a baby she still had inside of her. This was her missing a man she could never have. She shouldn’t have let herself get attached to either of them. Just her fucking luck, though.

Turning on the faucet she reached into the cabinet and pulled down a glass. A sharp pain cut through her as she filled the glass. But she ignored it- had been ignoring it for a few hours now. She knew what it was. Hadn’t even tried to convince herself it was Braxton-Hicks first. She’d read too much to not know the difference by now. Figures her body would skip the pre-contractions and go straight for the real thing.

She leaned over the sink and took deep breaths until the pain eased, hand rubbing her belly all the while. “I know, Baby Girl. You’re ready to come out. But we’re gonna wait a little longer, alright? Just need a bit more time.” She couldn’t say it out loud- was scared to even think it. But it was truth all the same. She wasn’t ready to hand this baby over to Grace. She wasn’t ready to walk away.

The pain stopped and Lizzie took a sip of her water. It felt good going down. The coolness helping to fight the heat that seemed to be wrapping itself around her middle. Deep breaths, Lizzie. Just take deep breaths. Slowly she pushed herself up from where she’d been leaning. Keeping her hand on the wall, Lizzie slowly made her way to her bedroom. Her hospital bag was packed. There was nothing to do- nothing to prepare. One call and that would be it. But she didn’t call. “Just us, Baby girl. For a little bit longer.” She sat on the edge of her bed, grabbed her phone from the nightstand to sit beside her. Then she waited.

Another contraction came, closer.

She waited.

Then another, closer still.

She waited.

Another, three minutes from the last.

She called Tommy.

~*~

She hadn’t gotten to hold her.

It was for the best. Probably. It meant she couldn’t get any more attached. Couldn’t fall even more in love with a little girl she’d never see again. Grace had taken the baby straight from the doctor’s hands. Lizzie had caught a glimpse of dark hair, and a red face- mouth wide, voice loud and angry. Then the baby was out of sight, tucked in the corner with Grace. Lizzie had watched her smile and coo over the newest Shelby. She had only let go for the nurse to check her over and clean her up. Then it was right back to Grace. Until, with one absentminded nod, Grace had walked out the door, baby wrapped tight and pressed close to her chest.

She hadn’t gotten to hold her. But an hour later Tommy’s lawyer had stepped into the room. He’d brought a nurse and a social worker. He’d gone over papers relinquishing Lizzie’s parental rights. He’d had her sign a paper saying she understood what everything meant. Then the nurse signed as a witness. And it should have been simple. It should have been the easiest part of her day. All she had to do was sign a piece of paper, initial a few spots. Then it would all be done. But it wasn’t simple.

It was impossible.

So the lawyer had tucked the papers back into his briefcase. He’d told her that when she got out of the hospital to come to his office. He’d explained that Grace couldn’t start the adoption process for ‘the child’ until Lizzie signed the papers. So it was ‘in everyone’s best interest to get this matter resolved as quickly as possible’. The matter being the baby Lizzie had carried for thirty-nine weeks. The matter being this little person that was half Lizzie. The matter being her baby. The baby she wasn’t supposed to want- the baby she was never supposed to have.

Then the room was empty. The nurse had asked if she wanted visitors. She’d hinted that Tommy was wanting to see her. But Lizzie had said no. As much as she wanted him with her, she couldn’t. Fuck, it was almost laughable. She couldn’t have what she wanted because she wanted it. Because the wanting was too much and wrong and would never be more than that. So she sat in the hospital bed and stared at the blank TV. She listened to the sound of babies crying. She wondered if her baby- Grace’s baby- was crying. She wondered if she was hungry. She wondered if she missed her. She sat and she cried and she wondered.

Suddenly the door opened. Without bothering to hide her tears Lizzie turned towards whoever it was. Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart started pounding in her chest. Because there he was, a little bundle held close in his arms. If Tommy saw her tears, he didn’t let it show. If he had guessed how not okay she was he didn’t let on. Just stepped in, the door closing behind him.

Lizzie watched with almost hungry eyes as he got closer. She was nearly vibrating from forcing herself to keep still- to not reach for the little girl kicking in his arms. He sat on the edge on the bed and she nearly screamed at him to just let her fucking see her kid. But she bit it back, kept as calm as she could. It wasn’t her kid- papers or not. He was being nice, doing her a kindness. The thought didn’t keep her hands from shaking when he held the baby out for her to take.

“Thought I’d introduce you.” Lizzie tucked the baby close to her heart. She made sure that the blanket covered her feet. She straightened the little cap on her head. A smile lifted the corners of her lips at the peek of dark curls she’d seen. “Her name’s Ruby. Ruby Evelyn Shelby” Lizzie’s eyes shot to Tommy’s. He was wearing a slight smirk on his face. “I know. Didn’t think she’d go for it either.” Shaking her head in wonder, Lizzie turned back to little Ruby.

Her throat went tight. Her eyes watered a bit. “It’s a good name, Tom,” she whispered with a shaky smile. “Ruby Shelby. She’ll be somebody. She’ll have a good life and she’ll have so much love.” Her eyes found Tommy’s again. The blue in them was so clear. But there was a hint of something- something she was terrified to give a name to- in them. “Promise me that? That she’ll be loved and happy and safe?”

He didn’t say anything. Not with words, at any rate. But she felt it- his promise. She felt it deep in her soul. And it was almost enough. If she never saw this little angel girl again, that promise was just almost enough. So she stopped worrying. She let herself have this time. She sank into the easy weight of little Ruby. She breathed in the fresh baby scent of her. She basked in the warmth of Tommy’s hand on her arm, thumb brushing back and forth while she held his little girl.

I love you, Ruby Shelby. I love you.

#tommy shelby #lizzie stark #tommy x lizzie #peaky blinders fanfic

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earthfluuke · 5 years

Photo

also known as 5 times neo and mew got hurt and shin had to take care of them + 1 time shin got hurt and neo and mew had to take care of him

and after only the first episode, i’m back on my bull shit of writing these three. but i mean, if gmm isn’t going to give us the throuple we asked for (and it really looks like that’s the case), then i guess it’s up to me!

(also i’m not a doctor or nurse or medical professional so i have absolutely no idea if any of what they do is medically correct. so don’t take my word on any of this.)

one

“Of all the stupid, irresponsible, reckless things you could do,” Shin mumbles, wrapping the gauze a bit too tightly around Neo’s bicep, “and you decide to go to a supermarket where you know people are looking for you. And then you get shot. I honestly question whether you have a brain in your head sometimes.”

“What else was I supposed to do? We were out of food – ow! Okay, okay!” Neo tugs his arm away from him, holding a protective hand over the bandage. “We were out of food, and we needed more!”

Rolling his eyes, Shin puts the roll of gauze back into the first aid kit and situates himself in front of his boyfriend. He looks at him from underneath the top rim of his glasses to give him a pointed glare.

“What I need is for you to stay alive. You’re no good to me or Mew if you’re dead.”

Neo chuckles and draws Shin closer. “Careful; it almost sounds like you care about me.”

Shin closes the small distance between them and connects their lips. “More than you and your brainless head could ever know.”

two

Shin makes sure the bandage is properly adhered to Mew’s thigh before he leans down to place a kiss over it. She’s lucky that she managed to get away from the trio of men that ambushed her on her way home from work with only a couple of scrapes. The worst is a deep cut from a knife, but it’s far from life threatening.

“As long as we keep it clean, you should be fine,” Shin says as he raises back up. “Just be careful of the bandage whenever you shower.”

She drags him back on the bed they’re on, and the two of them end up lying chest to chest.

“What would we do without you?” she asks, nuzzling her nose into the space between his ear and jaw.

“Probably bleed out in an alleyway somewhere.”

She laughs as if she knows it’s true.

three

Shin doesn’t think any of them have ever gotten hurt this badly. It definitely doesn’t help that they’re in a moving car.

He isn’t sure how it happens. One minute, they’re running; the next, Neo is on the ground unable to move. Luckily enough, they’re close to the car, and he and Mew manage to drag him into the back seat and step on the gas before either one of them can get hit.

But the luck ends there. Neo is moaning into the upholstery while Mew is constantly flickering her eyes into the rearview mirror to check on them, all while weaving her way out of town.

Shin can barely think, but if he gets lost in his thoughts now, he knows that’s more than enough time for Neo to lose consciousness. So he reaches forward into the glove compartment and pulls out the first aid kit they stow in there just in case. Now seems a lot like one of those cases.

He then starts to assess the damage. The bullet he managed to dig out of him was lodged into Neo’s side, not close enough to any vital organs to concern themselves over but still deep enough for him to bleed out.

He’s only stitched up wounds a handful of times, and it was never in such a high stress situation. And it’s never been on his boyfriend either. He does his best to will his hands to stop shaking.

He rips a bit of gauze off the roll and balls it up before forcing it in between Neo’s teeth. “Bite down on that,” he instructs as he threads the stitching into a needle. He takes one last look at Neo’s pain stricken face before getting to work. “You’re gonna need it.”

four

Holding dual ice packs to each of his lovers’ heads isn’t something he’s done before, but he supposes there’s a first time for everything.

“What were you two thinking?” he asks before sighing and shaking his head. “Oh, that’s right; you weren’t.”

“That guy grabbed your ass,” Neo tries to reason. “What were we supposed to do? Just let it go?”

“Yes.” He takes a breath before continuing. “He grabbed my ass. So what? I’ve seen plenty of people grab you two, and I’ve never gotten violent. Because I know that at the end of the day, you’re coming back to me. The same goes for me with you.”

“We know that,” Mew says, words muffled by the ice pack over her lips. He can only see her eyes, two wide brown things that he falls for every time. And when he does, his irritation lessens. He supposes he can’t stay too mad at them. He’d be a hypocrite if he said he’d never once gotten jealous over the two of them.

He pulls back the ice. Her lip stopped bleeding, but the cut will take some time to heal.

“I guess you’ve dealt your own punishment,” he says, brushing some hair behind her ear. “No making out for a while.”

He then turns to Neo and checks his eye. It’s already black and blue, and it definitely doesn’t look pleasant.

“Maybe I don’t have to worry about anyone flirting with you for a while,” he teases. “Not with how you both look right now.”

He’s pinned back to the bed with some taunt along the lines of ‘remember, I’m still stronger than you, even with a black eye’ from Neo. The ice packs get kicked to the floor into a melted heap, but Shin can hardly focus on that when he’s got two of his favorite people pressing kisses into his neck.

five

“Ow,” Mew hisses, and Shin immediately apologizes.

While they’d been running, she’d tripped and twisted her ankle. They’d found a back alley where they couldn’t be seen to hide out in for the time being. Now, with Neo holding her foot in place, Shin is doing his best to wrap it.

“I know, I know,” he soothes. “But it has to be tight if you want it to heal.”

She grits her teeth and leans her head back against the wall. “Doesn’t make it hurt any less, babe.”

He’s quick about his work, attaching the end into the folds already wrapped around her ankle. The pressure should help her, but walking isn’t going to be easy.

Luckily, they have a Neo. And he’s already hoisting her up into his arms as though she weighs nothing. “You can lay in the back with Shin. We’ve gotta get to the next town before they find us again.”

Shin lets her rest her head in his lap while he strokes her hair. It’s always scary when one – or in some cases, both – of them get hurt, especially in the middle of a chase. But after, when they’re all safe, he’s happy to just enjoy being close to them.

He hears Mew sniffling into his neck and feels Neo thumbing over the bandage on his abdomen. None of them talk, and there’s an eeriness about the dark room.

There’s a reason he doesn’t go outside without the two of them. He doesn’t like guns, doesn’t wield weapons. He’s a healer, a thinker, a planner. He’s their brain while they’re his brawns, and that works.

Except when it doesn’t. By all intents and purposes, he should have been fine. They’d waited until the dead hours of the morning to slip into the car to move out of the town they’d stayed in for far too long. He had almost closed the door when he felt it.

He’s been grazed by bullets, but there’d never been one that struck him so perfectly. He’s lucky that it doesn’t pass through, that it stays inside his torso. He’s even luckier that Neo is competent enough to drive away before the situation escalates.

They find a motel close by, Mew throwing money at the front desk while Neo hauls him into whatever room they’re given. There’s so much blood pooling into his shirt by the time they’ve got him on the bed.

He has to walk them through the process. He’s gone through it countless times, too many times, to know just what to do. He stays calm, knowing that they’re freaking out.

They press on the wound hard enough to stop most of the bleeding. Mew’s better with a needle and thread after having watched Shin patch up Neo before. She’s slower than he’d be, but she gets the job done. They’re hesitant to wrap the gauze too tightly around his torso, but he near begs them to. If the stitches rip, it’s his only protectant.

That’s when things had gotten quiet. When they’d tucked Shin under the blankets and crawled in next to him, they hadn’t said anything. And it’s beginning to worry him.

“Talk to me,” he says, voice slightly horse. The arms around him stiffen.

It’s Neo who speaks first. “This is why we don’t like it when you go out without us. You could get hurt. And we were with you, and you still…” He trails off to bury his face into Shin’s hair.

“Stop blaming yourself,” he says. “There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

“We should have protected you,” Mew interjects. She sounds angry and broken, and Shin turns his head to look at how closely she’s curled into his side. “We should have fired back. We should have done something.”

“Enough should-ofs. It happened. I got shot. But now I’m fine. Because you took care of me. Just like you always do.”

He’s not sure if it’s enough to calm their rapidly beating hearts, but it’s as truthful as he can be. He understands their fear, understands the panic of possibly losing one of the people you love most. He thinks he knows that better than anyone at this point.

So if they don’t let him go for the entire night well into the morning, he doesn’t say anything. He just allows himself to be held and to be loved. Supposedly, that’s the best medicine.

#3wbf #3 will be free #3 will be free the series #neo/mew/shin #my writing

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deceptionheadcanons · 5 years

Note

"Did you take anything? Why are you passing out? Hey! Stay with me!" (i like reading your tags btw lol👀)

You’re my new favorite anon because you obviously have the best taste in humor. Please enjoy this prompt that somehow got to be five pages because apparently I just can never shut up.

CameronBlack had never had to write a resume before. But he was pretty sure what wouldbe on it if he had to make one now. First, obviously, would be that he was thebest magician on the planet— and yes, that’s including David Blaine. Especiallyincluding David Blaine. The second would be that he was a fantastic FBI Observer.Which was a thing, because he had made it a thing, which made it even moreimpressive. But the third thing was what was really important at this moment specifically.The third skillset he would list…was that he was really good at beingkidnapped. Or being taken advantage of. Or getting into trouble.

Now, he wasn’t exactly surewhat job would want you to have that skill. But whatever job it was, Cameron wouldbe a shoo-in. He wouldn’t even have to go through the formality of aninterview; he would be hired on sight. Or at least that was what was runningthrough his head when he was tackled to the ground and pinned there before hehad the chance to get up. That was what he was certain of when he felt a kneejab hard into the back of his throat, crushing his windpipe and forcing him tostruggle and gasp for air. Though not in many such words. Mostly all he thoughtwas what he usually thought.

I’m an idiot.

“Well, well, well— look whatI caught,” a voice hissed into his ear. He struggled to get up but there wasn’ta point. He’d been with Kay ten minutes ago before he had branched away. They’dbeen on the tail of a huge human trafficking ring for the longest time now.Longest being five days, because usually, with the two of them workingtogether, they got cases done in half the time. But then again this was a muchbigger threat than usual. The group seemed vast but they were experts when itcame to evasion.

They’d had reason to believea man by the name of Oscar Acardi was connected in some way. They’d tracked himand it led them to an abandoned building that seemed like the perfect place to keepprisoners or pull off silent hand-offs that wouldn’t be noticed. They’d beensearching the place the entire time, trying to find evidence. There’d beenmovement in the corner of his eye, and he’d turned around while Kay keptwalking. And, like an idiot, he started walking without thinking. He had noidea where Kay was, or if she’d noticed he’d left. For now, all he knew for certainwas that he’d gone to an entirely different part of the building. And now he waspinned and couldn’t move.

Panic burned through him ashe struggled to throw Oscar off. But the room was already spinning from the lackof oxygen, and his head was pounding after he’d smacked it against the stone floor.He was dazed enough for the moment that he was incapacitated. Oscar knew itvery plainly. “Ooh, you’ll be a good one…people would pay thousands foryou…” Cameron started struggling even more, gasping and choking as panic started to close his throat and make it even harder to breathe.

He planted his hands on theground and started to shove himself up, scrapping together all the energy hehad to throw this guy off him. He almost managed it, too…before a sudden sharppain made him falter and cry out. Oscar was fast to plant a hand down hard onhis mouth, shifting off of him now and yanking him by the shoulder so he was onhis back. Cameron kept trying to fight. Oscar responded by jamming his kneedown against the front of his throat this time, making it impossible now toeven take in a tiny gasp. He choked and floundered; there was nothing but triumphin Oscar’s eyes as he watched.

Cameron reached up and startedto try and swing at him. Oscar leaned back so he was just out of reach, keepingthe pressure on his throat. Cameron was beginning to lurch forward to try and gethim anyway – to just do something, any kind of damage at all – when slowly, itgot to be difficult. His arms felt heavier and heavier. At first, he thought itwas just the lack of oxygen— he figured he was due to pass out from that,anyway. But Oscar was leaning away from him fully, now. He could breathe, andhe did immediately, in rasping wheezes. He tried to push himself up, to rocketto his feet and throw himself at him. But he was still too heavy. He couldn’t…hecouldn’t move. His vision was shaking, it was blurring, it was getting darker.He tried to stand but he immediately fell, before he even managed to get up on allfours.

Cold satisfaction was on Oscar’sface. “It’s alright,” he cooed softly. Cameron gasped, trying to get up againand failing a second time. He hit the ground and this time he was stuck there, beginningto hyperventilate with panic as his mind – getting slower and slower – draggeditself to its own conclusions. Oscar explained anyway. “It’s just a little drug…you’llsleep for a long time. Enough time for me to stuff you somewhere, and for yourlittle agent friend to leave. Then I’ll come pick you back up. And don’t worry—I’ll take care of you, from there.”

Cameron cringed, strugglingto call out for help. But all that got out was a feeble whine. His arms and legswere going numb. Oscar was grinning when he leaned down, grabbing a fistful of hishair and moving his head. His eyes looked over him like he was studying a horseand deciding whether or not he was going to bid on it. He smirked. “Oh yeah…”he repeated, lower this time. “You’re gonna be absolutely perfect. People willline up to get you.” He wanted to scream, to run, to hit him, to do anything,but none of that was an option. His body was shutting down against his will. Heknew he was in trouble, but he couldn’t do anything. He could hardly breathe.

Oscar leaned down more andgrabbed him underneath his shoulders. Cameron was completely limp. He startedto drag him away. To some other room or hideaway he was certain had to bearound here for this very purpose. Somewhere he would be trapped in until hecame back, probably with another dose of drugs just in case. So that if he wasaware enough by then, it wouldn’t matter because he would just put him out ofcommission again, anyway. He’d be dosed over and over, taken away to who knewwhere, sold to the highest bidders who would do whatever they wanted with him,and there was nothing he could do about it. He wanted to scream, but the drughad forced an expression of apathy on his face. His head lolled to the side ashe was pulled. His heels scraped the ground but he couldn’t dig them in.

It wasdone. It was over. He’d messed up and he was going to pay for it dearly.

When all of a sudden, he wasdropped.

Kay glared daggers at Oscaras his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. She was holding her gun sotight that it was sure to leave imprints on her palm. One blow to the head withit and Oscar was out like a light. She’d hit him hard. She estimated abouttwenty minutes until he was back on his feet, but even then, he still wouldn’tbe any match for her. For safety’s sake, she wanted to rush at him and cuff him, so that if that did happen, he would already be taken care of.But her eyes were drawn to Cameron, who had fallen right along with Oscar. Hehit the ground with a thud; he wasn’t moving at all. Her heart started racing,and she rushed to kneel on the floor beside him.

“Cameron!” Why on Earth had hewandered off!? She would be angry about it later. She would yell at him later,and probably smack him a couple times. Right now, she was just worried. He stilldidn’t move. Her heartpractically stopped when she realized his eyes were a little open. Barely even halfway,but they were there. For a second, she thought with horror so great it brought anunexpected sting of tears to her eyes, that he was dead. But the second shestarted to fall apart at the thought, she realized he was breathing. His raspswere very shallow and weak. But they were there. Barely…but they were there.

Her fear tripled. “Cameron!”He didn’t even blink. He was staring blankly off into space, his eyes dull andhis expression blank. Gasping, Kay pulled his arm up towards her. She felt forhis pulse. It was taking everything in her not to fall apart. It there,but it was just as weak as his breathing was. This was bad— it was bad. Sheyanked out her phone, not realizing she kept holding his hand with her otherone. His was limp, but she was holding to him with a death grip. She called foran ambulance and gave only the most crucial information before she was hangingup and turning her attention back to him.

“Cameron! What did he giveyou!? What did he do to you!?” Cameron still didn’t react much at first. “Cameron!”She was all but screaming now. Her heart stopped again, though, when his eyes,barely visible now, dragged themselves over to her. A gasp died in her throat.It didn’t really seem like he was looking at her. It didn’t seem like he wasaware enough to stare at anything at all. But he was looking towards her voice.She changed to hold his hand with both of hers, now. She wouldn’t be surprisedif she broke it, going by how hard she was squeezing. “Cameron— what happened!?What did he give you!?”

“Sssss…” The noise was barelyaudible. It was more of a rasp or an awful-sounding gurgle than anything else.His eyes started to slide closed. His head started to fall to the side.

“H-Hey! No!” she snapped immediately,grabbing his hand even tighter and yanking him harshly. He jerked, and his eyesflickered a little bit more open when she pulled him. But the effect wasminimal. He was already starting to close them again. “Hey, Cameron— no! Staywith me! Stay with me, Cameron, don’t you dare close your eyes! Stay with me!”She yanked him again, harder this time. She didn’t even realize she was cryingso hard her shoulders were shaking.

It looked like he wasactually trying, for her. She could have sworn she saw a flash of his blue eyesone more time. She choked when she realized that the farthest corner of hismouth was twitching ever so slightly as if he was trying to smile. He foughtto speak. She didn’t know what he wanted to tell her…all she knew was whatactually came out. It didn’t sound like him at all. It sounded weak. It barely scraped itself out. If she hadn’trealized so quickly what he was trying to say, she would have had to put herear a centimeter away from his mouth to be able to understand. But she already understood.She understood completely. And her heart dropped when he choked out a weak: “Kay…”

“Cameron,” she returned, desperationand fear making his name shake. “Cameron, look at me.” He didn’t. His smilevanished. His expression went numb. His head fell to the side, and his armsagged as well. His breathing still weak and barely-there, he fell still. Panicgripped her heart and sank its claws deep into it. She squeezed his hand andyanked his arm close to her chest again, trying to see if she could garner thesame reaction she had earlier and get him to open his eyes again. But no. Hewas just jerked uselessly. She pulled again and again, her breathing gettingfaster with every tug, but it was no use. He was gone.

She still kept yelling. Full-onscreaming, now. “Cameron!” She wasn’t sure if the emotion in her voice wasanger or sorrow or even something else. All she knew for sure was that she hadto stay with him. She had to make sure his chest was still moving, that he wasstill alive. She had to keep him with her. So she held his hand and hunchedover him, crying harder with the fear that it wouldn’t be enough, and she wouldlose her friend. Her partner. Her…Cameron.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

It took him a couple timesto wake up all the way. Everything was unclear and weird, but he’d thought atone point he cracked open his eyes and it had been so bright like it wasmorning. And then the very next second, he’d blinked and it was dark. Onesecond he thought he heard someone snoring close to him, and the next blink, hecould hear talking— muffled and distant, like he was miles away. Each time he cameback to himself like that, it was clearer. It was like he was trying to comeout of the world’s worst hangover, which he had already had before, so he knewwhat he was talking about. He had no idea how many times he’d almost gottenhimself to wake up. Or how long it took.

But eventually, he managedit. It wasn’t easy. It was like he’d been awake for three hundred hoursstraight and was only allowed two hours of sleep. He felt like he was dragginghimself out of quicksand. But he pried open his eyes and took in a deeper,sharper breath. He felt…comfortable. He realized he was laying in a bed. That therewere blankets on him, and that there had been talking before, but after hisquick gasp in, it was silent. His vision was blurry, but the more he blinkedthe more it helped. He saw beige walls and a computer near the foot of his bed.A whiteboard on the wall with writing he wasn’t aware enough yet to read. Therewas a TV on but it was muted.

He’d been in enough hospitalsto recognize he was in one, even in his state.

He was just beginning to comeback to himself fully when there was a sudden snap that demanded hisattention. “I hate you!”

He literally had to drag hishead so that it would turn towards the voice. He was groggy and unfocused…ittook a second for him to make sense of his surroundings. But it connectedslowly. Kay was sitting at his bedside, her arms crossed and her eyes littleknives that wanted to stab out and kill him. Which, he guessed if she was goingto do it anywhere, a hospital would be a good place for it. She looked like shewanted to murder him and set up his body for all to see in Times Square. Whichwas pretty morbid. He stared at her at first, blinking slowly. She took it uponherself to repeat her sentiment louder. “I hate you!”

He had to work to get histongue to function. “Good mornin’ t’ you too…” he slurred.

She reached out and smackedhis arm. His ‘What the hell?’ was too quiet and smeared to be understood as shewas rushing on to keep yelling at him. “I cannot believe you!” she hissed. “Youjust— wandered off like we were at the mall! Like you were a kid in Target thatgot bored— we were looking for a human trafficker! How in the world could youhave known that and thought it was a good idea to leave!? God, Cameron, you’reso stupid! You could have been taken! You could be somewhere horrible rightnow, do you understand that!?”

“Maybe if you yell a littlelouder I’ll understand it more…” he mumbled. Then immediately yelped: “Ow!”when she smacked him again. She was glowering at him with enough rage to melthim on the spot. She was sticking her tongue hard into her cheek. He could seeher mentally killing him over and over in increasingly creative ways in hermind. He was waking up more and more. Unfortunately, that meant he was becomingmore and more embarrassed over the fact that she was very, very correct. “I know…”She seemed a little surprised at his easy give-in. Usually, he was stubborn andrefused to admit he was anything less than perfect. But this situation waspretty clear. “I know, I messed up…”

She floundered for somethingto say, her eyes a little wide. At first, they just stared at each other. Butthen she glared at him again and smacked him a third time. His arm was quicklybeginning to hurt. “You’re damn right, you’re sorry!” she snapped. Cameronfought the urge to roll his eyes. Usually, the lecture ended after someoneadmitted they were at fault. Not with Kay. “You’re lucky I got there in time!You’re lucky I was there to clean up your mess! You could’ve—…!” She didn’tfinish. It looked like she couldn’t.

“But I didn’t,” he pointedout. “I’m fine.”

“Only because I got to youin time!” she burst. “You could have died!”

“He just knocked me out, Iwasn’t going to die,” he objected.

“But I didn’t know that!” Hewas shocked into silence when Kay snapped this back, and he realized her voice wassuddenly very choked. She was glaring at him still, but she was losing hersteam. He didn’t think he’d everseen her so sad. And scared. It dashed away whatever impatience he might havehad. “I just found you on the ground, barely conscious and barely breathing!You didn’t react to me at all, your pulse was— I screamed at you and you didn’teven bat an eye!” He wilted. She tried to wipe her eyes in a way that wasn’tobvious, but there was no point. It was obvious to him. “I thought you weregoing to die, all I could think about it was what would happen if the ambulancedidn’t come in time and you died right there! Do you realize how awful it was!?”

He didn’t answer at first.The silence was heavy.

Eventually, he whispered: “I’msorry…I didn’t…think about it that way.”

She looked like she wasabout to say something, but she took it back. She just turned her glare to herlap. He realized they were the only people in the room. That her hair wasmessier than normal, and her shirt was untucked. There were blankets and apillow piled on the recliner near his bed…had she slept there? Was the snoringhe thought he heard at some point from her? His heart tugged. Not only withgratitude to her for saving him in the first place, but at the thought of herstaying here with him. Surely the doctors had told her it was just a drug thatwas going to wear off eventually? Yet she’d still refused to leave.

“I’m sorry, Kay,” he repeated.When her eyes flickered back up, there was no anger in them anymore. Onlyexhaustion, and, very faintly, a sense of relief. “For leaving you. And for scaringyou. I’m really sorry.” She said nothing; her lips just pressed a little bitmore together. He hesitated before he tried to give her a smile. “But I’m okay…thanksto you, I’m just fine. Nothing happened.” For a second, something almost had.For a second, before most of his consciousness had been stomped down, he hadthought the worst. He’d pictured for a split second, the life that Oscar was goingto drag him to. He’d thought he’d never see Kay again. Kay, or the rest of theteam. It was thanks to her that it didn’t become a reality.

“Thank you,” he said. Her eyesflashed in pain at the change in his voice. He was trying not to let the fearslip through, but once it hit him, it was a little bit noticeable. “You’reright, something…awful could have happened. I don’t even want to…” He trailedoff, closing his eyes briefly. Before he took in a faster breath and justrepeated: “Thank you. For getting me out of that. For not letting him…”

Thankfully, she got themessage. “You’re welcome, Cameron.” He must have looked even more shaken thanhe meant to. She was fast to scoot her chair a little closer, and her voice hadlost its edge entirely when she said: “We’re bringing down the ring. Ever since we got Oscar it’s been like dominoes. Or at least, that’s what Mike’s been tellingme. I…” She hesitated before she murmured softly: “I wanted to be sure…youcame out of things okay.”

He softened. Gratitude andaffection alike washed over his face. “Thank you,” he repeated. She nodded. Hisface fell as his eyes flickered back down to the blankets. He felt a little sick,thinking over how stupid he had been. How he hadn’t been able to do anything todefend himself. How scared he’d been and how much he’d felt like screaming, buthow he hadn’t even been able to move a single finger. How that could have beenthe rest of his life, possibly. Or how it could have been something worse.

He didn’t say a word, but itmust have been written on his face. Kay was reluctant, and she moved veryslowly. Before she scooted even closer and leaned out to put her hand in his,which had been resting upturned on the bed. He roused a little at her touch and looked down in slight confusion. He looked up at her, about to say something.When he met her stare and realized. That she looked just as scared as he was—like she was sharing his same exact thought process. Like she was trying toconvince herself they were alright now, too, even though she of all peopleshould know. But the mere thought of it happening was enough. However unfounded,the fear was enough to be palpable all the same.

She wasn’t saying anythingeither. But she was just as scared as he was.

Maybe they both needed asecond…maybe they both needed comfort.

He smiled a little, stilllooking contrite. She smiled back.

This time, when she heldhis hand, he held right back to her, with just as strong a grip.

#I tweaked the quote again to make it more natural I hope ya don't mind. I also hope you don't mind this is like months late #Deception #Cameron Black #Kay Daniels #Kaymeron #Prompt #Headcanon #I write too much boys and girls #In which Cameron is stupid and Kay is reluctantly tolerant of his idiocy.....which is in fact a summary of the whole show

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loptrcoptr · 3 years

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this woman who I will be an independent contractor for (and who is possibly the Worst Person in the state) wants me to wrote a bio for myself for riding lessons at her barns and I’m like… dude idk lol I went to Lots of College, I don’t exactly have a long list of clinics and trainers to point out, I have been too broke for that for approximately ten years, I’m… a Horse Grifter. I have no skills but the skills of a mediocre con man in the 19th century, I’m less “talented” and more “convenient”

#personal #she was like ‘can you toss my horses at x place some hay tonight?’ and I said ok because do n a stupid fuckwad #expecting there would be nine horses and I’d only have to toss them hay BEFORE I WOILD LEAVE #TO FEED HER OTHER HORSES #WHICH I FEED SUN MON WEDS ALWAYS ANYWAYS #but no no no. I get there the gates closed I have to crawl under #there are four more horses than I thought there’d be. I’m not sure whether they #got their grain today or not #so o end up giving grain and supplements and random ass shit #and TWO HAY BALES (I am five feet tall and Not Strong) to thirteen fucking horses #trying to soak shit for the old ones so they don’t die of dehydration out in the ninety degree heat ofc #running around trying to find the horses in a paddock that I hadn’t been warned about #while a lady at the gate honks at me because my car is in her way…#I got paid for this but f u c k it was not enough I was wearing a sundress and sandals bc id come from work #and it was 90 degrees and enough work for two ppl #anyway! hate this woman and dunno what the fuck to tell her to advertise for me because a) hell do I say about me and b) she’ll do whatever #she wants in the end anyway

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kristallioness · 5 years

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Home alone

Summary: Aang is called away to help a small Earth Kingdom village struggling with a group of thugs and he doesn't keep in touch with Katara, leaving her on edge.

Word count: 2,897

Author's note: @fehnandas - this is my submission for the 2nd prompt of this year's Kataang Mini Week (Christmas special). The story is inspired by the movie "Home Alone 2", where Kevin McCallister gave the nice pigeon lady a gift in the end. Imagine a scenery on Air Temple Island that's similar to this (where Korra and the airbender kids put food out for the lemurs) or this (where she gazed at Aang's statue near the edge of a cliff) or this (where she was frustrated about what councilman Tarrlok had done). The winters in Republic City must've been marvellous.

----------x----------

Katara groaned as she waterbended the last big pile of snow off the wooden platform. She approached the back of the meditation pavilion and wiped the railing clean with her mitten, releasing a sigh while she stared at the endless ocean facing the back of their little island. At least her husband would have a clean place to go meditating once he returned.

The clock on Avatar Aang Memorial Island struck four times, calling the waterbender to the other side of the island. Katara spun around and continued to bend the fresh snow away, clearing the paths that connected various parts of the temple. It'd started snowing shortly after midday and the slight snowfall didn't seem to come to an end any time soon.

She could still see her own footprints left deep in the snowy ground by her winter boots from all of her previous walks. She tried to take new routes each day to avoid it becoming a routine, but the grounds were practically covered with them by now. A smaller pair of paw prints accompanied hers every now and again.

She'd left Momo to sleep in their bedroom while she went outside to get some fresh air. The winged lemur liked to stay close to the stuff in their house that had a stronger scent of the airbender on them. Aang's pillow was one of his favourite places to seek comfort from. And at night, he could keep Katara company, with his low purrs soothing her, so she wouldn't have to sleep in an empty bed.

She rubbed her arms and huffed out a warm puff of air from her mouth. The problem wasn't in her thick, fuzzy parka. Nor was it in the mild cold degrees that'd reigned over the United Republic for more than a month, allowing the surrounding areas to become a winter wonderland, close enough to remind her of her home tribe.

The problem was in the empty space in her heart. The last time she'd seen Aang was almost a month ago. He was away from home due to his Avatar duties.

It'd been a quiet afternoon when he'd received an urgent message from an officer located in the Western Earth Kingdom, begging him to come to the village that was being terrorized by a mob of skilled earthbenders that not even his officers could face head-on.

Aang promised to send her letters via messenger hawk to keep her updated about the situation, like he'd done several times before during any other diplomatic visits. But this time, there'd been nothing but silence from his end. No word about how things were going, of his whereabouts or whether they'd captured the criminals.

Katara missed him terribly, and as the days went by, she became more and more worried. After two weeks had passed, she'd asked Sokka to send a messenger hawk to the village to ask the local police for news. A reply never reached them.

She'd sworn to herself that if her husband didn't return within a month, she'd travel to the Earth Kingdom to find him, and find out what's happening. Three days remained until the deadline.

The waterbender walked past the lit up tower of the temple and heard a group of acolytes chatting near the dormitories, but paid no attention to them. She ignored the three sky bison munching on some hay near the caves.

They used to be a part of a larger herd that Aang had discovered and brought to the island a few years ago, to serve the acolytes when they needed to travel between the air temples. Recently, she'd stopped noticing each growl that emanated from those bison as well. She didn't wanna get her hopes up only to let them right back down again. Her husband was gone, and so was Appa. If they returned, she'd be sure to notice.

The sun had set half an hour ago, with it being the shortest day of the year. The stars that twinkled between the cirrus clouds lighted Katara's way to a secluded corner of the island. It was one of her safe places to go to when she needed to be alone.

She brushed the snowy twigs of the bushes away to sneak past them until she reached a small opening with a marvellous view to the western corner of Republic City. Having dusted some snow off the edge of the cliff, she carefully sat down and her eyes fixed on the huge statue in front of her. She glanced behind to be sure that she wasn't followed. She released a heavy sigh.

"Aang, I know you're out there somewhere.."

After clearing up the snow from a small patch on the ground, Katara removed the mitten from her right hand and laid her palm against the cold stones underneath.

"..and I hope you can hear me. I'm okay. I've been busy working at the hospital and everything's well at home, so no need to worry about that. There hasn't been a day when I haven't thought about you or missed you. But.. it's been almost a month."

Her fingers skimmed over the hard surface of the rocks. She clenched them into a fist and pressed her palm strongly against the ground to ensure that he could sense her speaking to him from halfway around the world.

"The thing is, you still haven't sent me a single letter. And I can't help but wonder.. What's going on, sweetie? Are you in trouble? Do you need help? Reinforcements? Do you need me there?"

She had to pause for a second so she could scratch her nose. A snowflake fell on it and it started to itch.

"Ah-aahh.. Achoo!"

Katara accidentally lifted both her hands up to cover her nose and mouth. She realized her mistake and quickly landed her bare hand back on the ground.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to break the connection! I just-"

She sniffed and rubbed her nose into her other mitten.

"-had to sneeze. Aahh, that's better.."

Her face dropped again once the same view greeted her. There were thousands of citizens swarming the streets of the capital and minding their own business, tens of acolytes running around on their little island. But she was the only soul who seemed to truly care about his well-being, and the state of that small Earth Kingdom village hundreds of miles away from their home.

"Please, Aang, give me a sign. Something.. anything, that you're alright."

A gentle breeze caressed her flushed cheeks and tossed some of her long loose hair around. The winds had turned southwards, bringing some warmer air into the bay and along the coastline of the city. As much as she would've liked to think that it was his airbending trying to offer her some warmth, she dismissed it for what it really was - a simple gust of wind.

Katara pulled the mitten back on and stood up, crossing her arms as if she wanted to give herself a comforting hug. She turned around one last time to look at his statue before climbing back into the row of bushes.

"I'll see you soon, sweetie."

If she was going to travel to the Earth Kingdom, she was going to need some supplies. Hence she headed back towards the temple to pack her stuff and prepare for the long journey away from home.

Katara wished that she didn't have to leave at this time of year. The emergency room usually became a lot more crowded due to people slipping on ice or getting into accidents on the slippery roads with their ostrich horse carriages. Her staff of paramedics could really use an extra pair of healing hands to help around and heal all the broken bones.

She shook her head to forget about her other responsibilities. Locating Aang was her top priority. She could deal with her guilt and cancelling her patients' appointments later, should it come down to it in the following days. Maybe her good friend Niyok can cover for her while she was gone?..

She lost her train of thought when she heard a growl further away. Apparently, one of the bison had finished its meal and decided to go fly a couple of laps around the island.

Katara stared at the sky, quirking an eyebrow when she couldn't spot the creature anywhere. What spooked her even more was the echo of a much louder growl that seemed to come from the caves. If the trio was still resting in there, then where did the first one come from?

She hurried out of the bushes and ran to the middle of the training area, looking towards all corners of the island until she spotted something approaching it from the southeast. The shape of it definitely resembled that of a bison's, but it could just be another air acolyte coming for a visit.

Katara waited until the pair got closer to see whether she was wrong. She hoped with all her heart that she was wrong, that it wasn't another air acolyte. Her heart skipped a beat when the sky bison landed in the courtyard in front of their house. The acolytes rarely used that area for landing.

"Oof!"

In the midst of hurrying to go meet and welcome the guests, Katara tripped on the steps and fell to her knees in the deep snow. Having regained her composure, she got back up and continued dashing through the soft white fluff.

As she got closer, her eyes grew wide when she could tell that the bison had much less stripes on its back than the rest. She recognized the familiar maroon winter robes of the bald man standing next to him. There was only one air nomad and his best friend who looked like that.

"Aang.."

The airbender had almost no clue of what she'd been through these past couple of weeks. He was eager to see her again, so after Appa had safely landed outside, he began walking towards the temple. He assumed his wife was inside, preparing supper for herself around this time of day.

"Aang!"

The airbender turned around in surprise when he heard a desperate cry coming from the other direction. He saw her familiar figure grow bigger as she approached him and his animal guide.

"Katara?"

Aang started running towards her to meet her halfway, but he hadn't considered the speed in which she was moving. Katara spread her arms to tackle him with a hug and she jumped into his embrace, actually managing to knock them both over into the snowy ground, with her landing on top of him.

Aang laughed together with her as she buried her face into the sash that ran across his chest, letting her breathe in his familiar scent. Her hands tickled him when they ran along his sides to remember his strong build while she was busy peppering his face with kisses. She was so glad to see him.

"Woah there, sweetie! Ha-ha-ha! I missed you, too. Hey.. are you crying?"

Aang released his hold on her waist and cupped her cheeks instead once he noticed tears streaming down her face and felt some of them land on his. Katara couldn't find the right words to say, so she answered by pulling him in for a deep kiss. She broke the kiss a moment later and nuzzled her nose into the crook of his neck, simply holding onto him for dear life.

"Y-yes, I'm c-crying. B-but these are tears of joy."

"It's okay, I'm right here. I'm here now," he murmured into her ear and stroked the back of her head. His fingers jumped over the bun and combed through the locks in her hair, slowly sliding down to her back to hold her close, as if this was the last time they'd see each other. But it was the first after a long time.

He felt how she let out a shaky breath and sniffed.

"Oh, Aang! I was so worried.. Why didn't you contact me?"

"I couldn't."

He carefully rolled her over on his side so they could both sit up. The snow under his body was starting to melt and dampen his cloak with cold water. Aang waterbended it dry, then grabbed Katara's arms and looked her in the eye.

"Those earthbenders used trained raven eagles to capture any messenger hawks that wanted to enter the airspace around the village, to intercept all messages so nobody would come and help the villagers and the police. That single messenger hawk who reached us was lucky that he wasn't spotted. The officer who sent him barely made it out alive since those thugs captured him after he'd sent the message and distracted their raven eagles with some fresh meat. He risked his life for the entire village."

"Is he okay? We can go back if he needs a healer-"

Katara already wanted to climb up on Appa, but Aang tugged at her hands and pulled her back down on her knees so she wouldn't go anywhere. He grazed her cheek with the back of his hand to calm her down, drying up a streak of her tears.

"Don't worry, Katara. He was alright in the end, as were all the other officers who were injured during the fights. The local doctors took him under their wings. I'm sure he'll be nursed back to health soon."

Katara hummed in delight at the good news, closing her diamond blue eyes. She grabbed his hand in her own, wiping the last of her tears into her mitten.

She stood up, pulling her husband after her to help him get up together with her. She brushed the snow off his robes and cupped his cheeks, allowing her hands to slowly slide down his neck and over his shoulders.

"Let me look at you.. are you okay?"

Aang chuckled as she began examining him for any visible injuries. He watched how she ran her hands over his chest and tummy before walking a circle around him in case she missed a spot. He grabbed her by the shoulders once she came full circle to stop her.

"It's okay, Katara. I'm fine, I'm not hurt in any way."

"Oh, good," she said, heaving a sigh of relief. He lifted one of her hands above his heart.

"Well, except for here."

Her eyes grew wide and she frowned, thinking that it was something serious.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"My heart aches because I missed you so much."

Katara giggled at that and rested her head on his chest, snuggling into his embrace.

"Does this make it feel better?"

"It sure does."

Aang gave her a kiss on the top of her head and swayed her from side to side a little, letting his hand stroke her back to give her a proper hug.

"I really missed you, sweetie."

"Me, too. I was so worried that something bad had happened when you didn't get my letter. I was almost getting ready to travel to that village myself to come and find you."

"I appreciate that. But there wasn't much that you could've done to help. Most of the battles took place underground in elaborate tunnels. We spent half the time chasing those earthbenders around in there."

"Hmm.. maybe there wasn't. But I still would've found you and we could've fought them together."

"I would've loved that."

The airbender withdrew a hand from her back and shuffled around his pocket.

"I brought you something."

Katara took a step back to give him some space so he could search for the gift. Aang grabbed her right hand and dropped something into her palm. She gazed at the small white figurine and understood that it was a carving of a bird.

"What's this?"

"It's a dove. I have one-"

He revealed the second one in his own palm.

"-and you have one. I bought them from the market in the village before I began heading home. That place is well-known for breeding and raising up beautiful white doves and selling them as pets. The merchant told me that these birds symbolize friendship and love. As long as we each have our doves, we'll be friends forever."

"Oh, Aang.. That's so sweet. Thank you!"

He laced her fingers together with his own, pulling her back in for another hug.

"I won't forget you, Katara. Trust me. No matter how far, or for how long we may be apart. I thought about you every day. Even if you're not there by my side, you'll always be with me-"

He raised their entwined hands higher on his chest.

"-right here, in my heart."

She teared up again and tried to hide it by nuzzling her cheek against his sash. She stared into his shimmering grey eyes and gave him a loving smile before locking her arms around his neck to kiss him again.

"Happy winter solstice, sweetie!" he murmured.

"Happy winter solstice to you, too."

Katara rubbed her nose together with his, patting his shoulder in the end.

"C'mon. Let's go inside and I'll prepare you a nice hot cup of tea and something to eat while you tell me everything that happened."

Aang let her grab his hand with her warm mitten as they headed into the house side by side. Yes, it felt good to be home.

#kataangminiweek #gift #Kataang Week #Kataangtag #Kataang #Aang #Katara #Appa #ATLA and TLOK #my fanfiction #mine #shards of Kristal

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alchemine · 6 years

Text

i refuse to give this fic a title

…because that will make it too official and I’ll have to commit to finishing it.

anyway here’s Danny trying with Dannylike earnestness to convince a very sceptical Jo that he’s going to be her researcher in another twenty-odd years.

and here are the previous two parts to keep it all together:

part 1 | part 2

After parting from Jo outside the gates of St Margaret’s, Danny spent a miserable day trying to stay occupied and dry. A museum would have been perfect if there��d been one nearby, but he’d already walked so far to find Jo that he didn’t think his feet could bear any more of that just yet, and he didn’t want to spend his last bits of money on transport. He lingered in a bookshop for as long as he could, and then when there was a break in the rain, went out and walked along the paths on the green, past a half-flooded and deserted children’s playground and under trees that dripped down his neck.

Along the way, he thought with a slowly growing sense of horror about what was going to happen when night fell, as it would all too soon. A few months ago, he’d done a massive amount of research on homelessness and written up a report on it for Jo—Future Jo, that was—so he knew more than he wanted to about the perils that awaited rough sleepers, ranging from being pissed on by passersby to being beaten and robbed to simply dying of exposure. He didn’t want any of that, but what other options did he have? Even if he was able to make Current Jo believe his situation, he didn’t think she was going to let him spend the night on her bedroom floor as if they were a pair of schoolmates having a sleepover. Maybe her parents had a garden shed and he could wedge himself in between the wheelbarrow and the hedge clippers. At least he’d be dry.

Just before four, he doubled back, found the café Jo had mentioned, and discovered she was there ahead of him, seated at a table with an open packet of Marlboro Lights in front of her and the dead ends of three of them in an ashtray at her elbow. She also had a half-eaten croissant on a plate, and the sight of it made Danny’s stomach come to life and twist itself into gurgling knots. His last meal had been either eighteen hours or twenty-three years ago, depending on how you counted, and that was just too long.

Not now, he thought, and approached the table. Jo was reading a book, wearing the same scrunched-forehead look of concentration she always had when reading anything, but as he got closer, she saw him coming and laid the book aside. Her expression was neutral, but he could see her whole body visibly tensing, ready to fight or flee if it came to that.

“I thought you were only going to wait ten minutes,” he said.

“Starting from four. I was early.” Jo looked at her watch. “All right, I promised we could talk, and here we are. What’s so important that you had to follow me like a stalker to tell me?”

“Can I sit down?”

“Well, you’ll look silly just standing there, won’t you?” She gestured at the empty chair opposite her, and he pulled it out and sat. He’d had plenty of time during his long, dull day to think about how to break the news to her, and at last had decided just to tell her and then produce whatever proof he could. It was the sort of story that was equally unbelievable whether you crept up on it from behind or confronted it head-on.

“Are you going to eat the rest of that?” He pointed to her croissant half.

“No, why?”

“Do you mind if I have it?”

“I suppose not,” Jo said warily, as if she thought he might be planning to take it home with him and add it to a creepy serial-killer collection of artefacts. She pushed the plate across the table to him, and he took the croissant and tried, not very successfully, to eat in small bites to make it last longer.

“You could buy a whole one, you know,” Jo said, watching him. “They do sell them to anyone.”

“It’s complicated.” Danny suppressed an urge to lick his finger and use it to wipe up the crumbs on the plate. “Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome. Now let’s have that story.”

This was the moment Danny had been dreading, but there was nothing for it. He steeled himself and began. “This morning when I stopped you outside the school, I said that you knew me.”

“Yes, and I said I didn’t, because I don’t.”

“Well, you’re half right,” he said. “You don’t know me now, but…you do know me in the future. That’s where I’ve come from. I fell asleep last night in 2008, and I woke up here.”

There was a long, long pause, and then without a word, Jo stood up and bent to collect her school bag from the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving. This is ridiculous. Do you think I’m some sort of idiot?” She stuffed her book down into the bag–it was Nineteen Eighty-Four, Danny saw–and buckled the front flap with an angry snap. “I don’t know what I expected from someone who followed me off a bus. Fuck off and goodbye.”

“No, wait,” Danny said, feeling desperate.

“Why should I do that?”

“You promised me five minutes and it hasn’t been that long yet,” he said. “And I’ve got proof. Let me show you.”

“Oh Christ,” Jo said, but she sat down again, bag clasped against the front of her blazer. “What’s your proof?”

“Here.” Danny pulled his remaining coins out of his pocket and spread them out on the hard tabletop, amongst the white rings left by a thousand cups of coffee and tea. “Look at the dates on these. Nothing from before 2001.”

“So you’ve got some sham coins. That doesn’t prove a thing. And you can go to prison for counterfeiting, by the way.”

“They’re real. And there’s more.” He opened his wallet and started laying out credit and cashpoint cards just above the scatter of coins. “See? This one expires in 2009. This one expires in 2012. What sort of bank issues a card that doesn’t expire for almost thirty years?”

“If you can forge coins you can forge those too,” Jo said stubbornly. She looked at her watch again. “You’ve only got two minutes left.”

“All right, here’s something else.” Danny looked around, but the café was in the midst of a lull and there were only a few other occupied tables. When he was sure no one was watching, he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his mobile and flipped it open, bringing the tiny screen to life.

“What’s that?” Jo leant closer, genuinely curious for the first time in their conversation. Her hair fell forward over her shoulders, and she pushed it back in a gesture so familiar that Danny felt lightheaded with déjà vu.

“It’s a mobile phone. They’re going to be huge in about…” He had to think about it. “Another ten years, maybe. It takes photos as well. Look at this.” He pressed buttons and brought up a shot of the two of them together at a reception for a visiting ambassador. “That’s you and me last year, in 2007.”

Jo’s eyes narrowed as she bent over the small, slightly pixellated image of her future self wearing a dark blue dress and pearls, smirking crookedly at the camera with Danny’s arm draped round her shoulders.

“It does look like me a bit, but…” She glanced up sharply. “You’re not going to try to tell me you’re my boyfriend or something, are you? Because you’re too old for me and definitely too young for the woman in this photo, so either way I’m not having it.”

“No, that’s not it at all. I work for you. We’re colleagues.”

“You work for me? Where?”

“You’re a junior minister in the Home Secretary’s office,” Danny said. “I’m your researcher.”

Jo still looked suspicious, but she sat back a bit in her chair and let her bag slide to the floor of the café. “All right, I admit that does sound like a job I’d want to do, but you still haven’t shown me any real proof it’s true. How do I know that’s really me in the photo? Or that your mobile phone thingy actually came from the future?”

“Have you ever seen one before?”

“No,” Jo said, “but new things are invented all the time, aren’t they? Maybe it’s from Japan and the shops will be full of them by Christmas.”

Danny ground his teeth. He knew all about Jo’s penchant for poking holes in arguments—it was one of the traits that would make her a fearsome debate opponent in their own time—but at the moment it was just making things difficult. He cast about for some bit of information he could give her that she couldn’t refute, and suddenly remembered a story she had told him once when she was very drunk.

“Okay,” he said. “You do want to go into politics after you’ve got your degree, don’t you?”

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

“I know you have. You told me—or you will tell me, later—that you’d been interested in a political career ever since you were a teenager. But you also told me that before then, when you were nine or ten, your big dream was to ride horses in the Olympics. You’d seen the Montreal Games, and you thought the equestrian competition was amazing and wanted to do it too, but you knew your parents wouldn’t buy you a horse or let you have riding lessons, and you were afraid that people would laugh, so you never told anyone. Am I right?”

Jo’s face went chalk-white, and Danny felt like a monster, but pressed his advantage. “I am right, aren’t I?”

“You can’t possibly know that,” she said faintly.

“But I do. I know because you told me.” He left out the bit about how she’d been so pissed at the time that he’d nearly had to pick her up and pour her into the waiting cab at the end of the evening. Asking her to accept that he’d come from the future seemed like enough without also mentioning the drink problem that awaited her there.

“Oh my God,” Jo said. She propped her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands, as if she were worried it might fall off. Dusk was gathering fast outside the café’s windows, the lights from cars and shops casting long, bright streaks of red and white and yellow onto the wet black tarmac, and he wondered whether anyone would be missing Jo if he kept her here much longer. He didn’t know anything about her home life at this age; for all he knew, she was expected for a family meal at six sharp every evening.

“Jo? You all right?”

“Not really, but let’s pretend I am to make things easier.” Jo straightened up and rubbed both hands over her face. “Okay. We’ll assume for a moment that I believe you, which I’m not entirely sure yet that I do. At some point in the future, I become a politician, and you’re a member of my staff.”

“Yes.”

“And how long have you known me?”

“Erm…ten years I think? I met you when I was seventeen and I’m twenty-seven now. You hired me as your researcher five years ago.”

“Fair enough, but you’re not just my researcher, are you? I mean we must know each other pretty well if I’ve told you about my secret childhood horsey fantasies.”

“Well, yes,” Danny said, wondering where she was headed with this. “We’re friends too. We’ve been through a lot together.”

“Right,” Jo said. “So consider this, Danny. When we met—meet—whatever, did I behave as if I’d met you before?”

“No,” Danny said. He thought back to that long-ago evening, to being uncomfortable in his white shirt and black waistcoat and irritable about being pressed into duty. “I was serving canapés at a party. I offered you some smoked salmon crostini and you said thanks. That’s all.”

“And in all the years we’ve been friends and colleagues, I’ve never, ever said anything to make you think that when I was eighteen, you’d turned up outside my school raving like a madman and we’d had this conversation?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s strange,” Jo said. “Because if this is happening now, then in the future it’s already happened, hasn’t it? Now-me knows about it, so future-me must as well. Why wouldn’t she have told you?”

#it's cracky crackfiiiiiic #party animals #jo porter #danny foster #raquel cassidy #matt smith

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shipmistress9 · 5 years

Text

FTLOAP - 32.5 - Interlude 3: Chaos Squad

Title: For The Love Of A Princess

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net - AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11; Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2; Chapter 27: Chapter 28 ; Chapter 29 ; Chapter 30; Chapter 31; Chapter 32

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: Okay, when we originally considered putting this part into the story, it was meant to be a joke. A bit of relief from tension and feels. Pure fun. And then the boys decided that, nope, we're gonna do it like this. And this. And this too. *shrugs helplessly* So don't blame me for anything, it was all them!

. o O o .

As it turned out, carrying four big mugs of beer at once wasn’t easy, but Eret thought he managed it sufficiently. That being said, the mugs were heavy, solid pewter with a lid on top, which was the only reason he’d avoided splashing anyone as he had to dodge other customers in the big tavern’s room. They’d dressed down for this pub crawl, which had the pleasant advantage of not having everyone bowing in obsequiousness – but also the distinct disadvantage of having the people around him not exactly putting in much effort to make way for him. But it wasn’t more difficult or exhausting than reining in one of his House’s untamed horses either, even less so if one considered that the mugs weren’t actively fighting against him. So, all in all, he didn’t think that getting drinks for them had taken that long, but when he returned to their table in a calmer and slightly detached niche, Dagur already awaited him eagerly.

“Oh, thank the Gods, you’re back,” he exclaimed, and directly reached to claim one of the big mugs. “These two are driving me insane!”

Eret’s eyes wandered to the other side of the table where Daniel and Hiccup sat side by side, their heads bowed over a notebook on the table between them. A relieved smile tugged at his lips at that sight; they were obviously deeply engrossed in yet another technical-looking sketch, and didn’t even react when he placed their mugs down in front of them. That was a good thing, he mused as he sat down in the last empty chair. Last night, during the festivities for the grand blot, Hiccup’s bold move to help Astrid on Markor’s back had worried him, and then there’d been Astrid’s hug and Daniel’s strange reaction to it… For a moment, Eret had honestly been afraid for his cousin. The war had hardened Daniel noticeably, and with the repeated assaults on Astrid, his sense of protection for his little sister had hardened as well.

And Hiccup… Well, Eret would vouch for Hiccup’s integrity. Tyr, he had! But no matter how well his cousin fit into their group and how fond Daniel seemed to be of him, none of that would matter when it came to Astrid. So it was good to see them like this again, with the tension from last night entirely gone. They were just getting excited over scholarly crap, together, once again, and even though Eret hadn’t thought it possible, the sight gave him a good feeling.

But it was too much fun to tease Dagur, so he let out a theatrical sigh. “Welcome to my life. They’ve been like this ever since my accolade, drifting off into technical conversations no sane person can follow. You’ve only endured this for a week now, but believe me, it’ll only get worse the longer they talk.”

Dagur cackled, amusement sparking in his eyes, and with Daniel thoroughly distracted he felt safe enough to throw his lover a warm smile. It wasn’t like they deliberately wanted to keep Daniel in the dark or lie to him… But they knew the Prince well enough, knew his sober attitude toward love and marriage. He wouldn’t get angry at him and Dagur for loving each other. But he also wouldn’t understand it, would only lecture them on how they couldn’t keep their relationship up forever. The good of the Kingdom was more important. And they knew that! But they didn’t need to be reminded of this fact every day again…

For another minute or three, they watched Hiccup and Daniel, how they kept bouncing ideas back and forth, both having a pencil in their hands now to simultaneously add to their sketch. It was funny in a way, though not why anyone visited a tavern.

“And here I thought we’d come here to have fun tonight,” Dagur commented after a while, disbelievingly shaking his head. “You know, after spending nearly the entire day at the Temple to help tidy it up again, I thought we’d earned a reprieve now. Laugh, chat, get a little drunk…” He paused, shaking his head again. “Is this going to keep going on like this? Or is there a chance they might reach another topic at some point?”

“If you can provide an interesting enough topic, that’s possible. But otherwise? Nope. It only gets worse.”

Dagur gave him an almost comically pleading look. “And if we just… leave? I mean, not necessarily to you-know-what. Just, I don’t know... Do something else? Maybe join the men over there? I’m pretty sure I’ve spotted some of this year’s recruits; we could teach them a lesson. I mean, beating them in an arm-wrestling match won’t make as much of an impression as Swanja’s performance with her bow would have made, but it surely would be better than nothing?”

Eret glanced over into the main room. Dagur was right, in all points. There were some recruits out there, also revelling in their liberty before heading off for war, and teaching them some respect surely would be helpful for their further training. Some of them were insufferable this year. But he let out an exasperated snort, and shook his head. “No, we can’t leave,” he said dryly, then nodded back to Daniel and Hiccup. “We can’t leave them alone. Believe me, it’s better to keep an eye on them before they go overboard. Again!”

“What, you think they’d slip away when we turn our backs on them? Maybe run riot?” Dagur laughed again, loud and true. “Oh, wait, I get it. Maybe they’ll go over to the armoury and test their theories from the other day. Which angle and distance is best to tear down a wall.” He laughed again at his own joke.

Eret just raised his eyebrow though, and gave Dagur an ‘Are you certain this is just a joke?’-look that made him choke on his next laugh. Sure, they hadn’t torn down any walls. Not yet! But it certainly wouldn’t be that much of an escalation to previous experiments either…

Leaving Dagur to get a grip on his laughing fits on his own, Eret reached for his beer and took a big gulp. Dagur was right, however. As happy as he was to see Daniel wasn’t against Hiccup… this was their last night before they’d all meet up in Westhill come summer. And selfish as it might be, he’d rather they would all chat together.

He was just scouring his mind for something – anything – to change the topic to, when a boy in the uniform of a courier appeared at their table.

They all looked up at the boy, wearing the sash and badge of the king’s messengers. He appeared to be a little self-conscious in the loud tavern, where a lad his age would normally be shown the door, as he glanced from one to the other. “Sir Eret?” he eventually muttered, settling to look at him. “I have this note for you. From your father.” The boy handed him a sealed letter, and Eret accepted it reflexively, even as a frown formed on his face.

A note from his father? That was strange. What would be so important that it couldn’t wait until the morning? “Thanks,” he said to the courier, and made attempts to stow the letter away into the pocket of his vest for later.

But the boy shook his head, looking highly uncomfortable as he raised a hand as if to stop him. “I-I’m sorry, Milord,” he stammered. “But I have orders to wait for your answer and deliver it back to his Grace directly. Just… just something about whether you… approve or not?”

Eret’s frown grew deeper, and he noticed that his friends around him all had looks of equal confusion on their faces. Even Daniel and Hiccup had interrupted their conversation for now. “All right,” he sighed, and got up. “Then I’ll see whether I can find a more private place to read it, and get right back to you.”

The boy nodded and stepped to the side, making way for Eret to leave their niche. He looked around, then decided to go outside to read. The light falling through the windows would be sufficient, without the noises of a full tavern to distract him.

Inside the letter were two pieces of paper. One was just a short note, the other another formerly sealed letter addressed to Grand Duke Eret of House Jag’r. Blinking in confusion, he first read the note, written in his father’s messy handwriting.

Son,

This letter from Eastervale arrived an hour ago, and I want to send back a reply immediately. But, as the future head of our House, it is your right to give your opinion as well.

His father wanted his opinion on a matter that affected their House? What could it be, some new trading contract maybe? Frowning even deeper, Eret read the note again, but couldn’t make any more rhyme or reason to it than the first time. Since when did his father need his opinion on such matters?

Shaking his head in bewilderment, he turned his attention to the letter. The seal was broken, but since it had been addressed to his father, that wasn’t surprising. What surprised him, however, was that even though it was broken, the seal was easily recognisable. It was the same as the one on the note the courier had just given him: The seal of a family member of House Jag’r. Even more confused, he opened the letter, and read it.

Dearest Father,

I send this letter to you in the hope that it might reach you soon. If my calculations are right, then I hope you had a wonderful Midwinter’s Night yesterday.

You might be wondering why I’m sending you this letter now instead of waiting for your return in a few weeks. You see, there’s been a development during the last weeks, and even though I know that the final decision only can be made once you’ve returned, I’m eager nonetheless to know your opinion on the matter.

Isku, Baron Hammond’s second son, asked me to become his wife. I know that his father already sent an official proposal, and that it is not my decision to make. But dearest Father, I want to let you know that, if it were my decision, I would gladly say yes.

So I’ll be waiting to hear from you, hoping for your approval.

In love,

Ester of House Jag’r

Gulping, Eret stared at the letter, and let his fingers glide over his sister’s name at the bottom. This didn’t come as a surprise, not really. Baron Hammond’s second son, Isku, had been a regular visitor during the summer months and had been one of the few that hadn’t been a nuisance but a real help instead. His genuine interest in Ester had been an open secret, and even though she’d tried to hide it, Eret had noticed that the interest was mutual.

No, this letter didn’t come as a surprise, and there was no real question whether their Father would approve of the union either. Baron Hammond was an influential and loyal vassal, and tying them tighter to their House would only strengthen them both – even if Eret the Elder would whine and complain about how it was a less than optimum dynastic union, given that Isku was only a second son, and the Hammonds were already vassals, and they should have held out for a first son of a Duke.

But the irony...

Eret shivered. His sisters would marry out of the House. Ester would join House Hammond if this was approved, as the law stated.

And Dagur’s siblings were all in the Temple. Even though they were acknowledged by Oswald as his children, they were still Ástir-born bastards, meaning that, by law, none of them could inherit in Dagur’s stead. So, for both him and Dagur, the ‘line of succession’ was a noose around their necks, strangling their love. This letter was just a reminder that nothing had changed. No, if anything, it made everything more real.

He couldn’t tell for how long he stood out there staring at the letter, his thoughts chasing around and around. But when his fingers started to turn numb from the cold, he returned back inside. “You can tell my father that I approve,” he said to the still waiting courier, who nodded and then hurried out of the tavern. Eret gazed after him, then sighed.

He was happy for Ester. Marrying for love was a rare luck, and he was glad to know that at least one of those around him would have that luck. Without his help, his eyes wandered through the crowded room, to their niche, to Dagur. Yeah, it was rare luck indeed, one he himself would never have.

With a heavy heart, Eret weaved his way back to their table, hoping to find some comfortable distraction among his friends – but paused in his steps when he finally noticed the change. Daniel and Hiccup had stopped talking about their sketch, as it seemed. In fact, they weren’t talking at all anymore, and instead laughing cordially. All in all, that wasn’t that much of an unusual sight, except that something about them seemed off.

As if–

. o O o .

With a satisfied grin, Dagur leaned back in his chair and watched the other two men laugh about the silly joke he’d just made. Yep, this was definitely more fun. Not that he begrudged Daniel and Hiccup having this common interest, not at all. But this was their last day together, so this was really not the best time for such discussions. In addition, a tavern also wasn’t the right place for it, given that who knew who might be listening in on them discussing defence plans and such.

“What in Loki’s name happened to them?”

Dagur turned at the exasperated tone in Eret’s voice, and grinned up at his disbelieving expression. “Oh, I just got tired of all the technical terms. So I… helped them to relax a bit. See things in a different light.” It sounded good in his own ears. Sophisticated.

But Eret wasn’t fooled. His eyes turned into slits, then he leaned forward and sniffed at Hiccup’s beer. The big mug was half-empty by now, but with how people outside of Southshore brewed their beer for taste and not alcohol content, that didn’t mean much. Or… usually wouldn’t mean much.

“I can’t believe it,” Eret muttered. “You–” He broke off, then hastily rounded the table to take his seat, but pulled it closer to Dagur to speak quietly. “Are you out of your mind?” he hissed. “Please tell me you didn’t lace their beers with your Gods-damned Skullcrusher.”

Attempting to look innocent, Dagur schooled his expression and reached for his own beer. “I didn’t lace their beers with my fantastic self-brewed booze,” he repeated dutifully. But Eret knew him too well, obviously wasn’t buying it, and it only took a couple of seconds before Dagur broke. “No, it’s true,” he snickered. “I didn’t lace them. It was more of a liberal swig. Very liberal. But look how good it did them.” He pointed his round chin at the two men on the other side of the table, still laughing about Odin-knows-what. “We’re here to relax, Daniel specifically. And I understand that he enjoys talking about all this theoretical stuff. But he gets enough of that. Today, he should let go. Only the Gods know when he’ll get the chance to do so again.”

Dagur knew that he was right, but Eret still didn’t seem convinced. “Maybe,” he grumbled. “But this was still not a good idea. You do realise that their alcohol tolerance is not quite as high as yours or even mine, right? Freyr, you only would have needed to wait maybe another half an hour, and the beer alone would have been enough already. Now we can only hope that Daniel won’t suffer from a hangover when he starts his journey tomorrow. And we better make sure Hiccup safely gets back to the stables and doesn’t end up in some stream.”

Okay, maybe Eret had a point. But Dagur wouldn’t let such neglectable facts deter him. “I still say it’s more fun this way. But don’t worry, my Skullcrusher doesn’t cause hangovers, it’s too good for that.” Eret snorted at the blatant lie. The drink was aptly named, after all, for all that Dagur had named it after Eret’s uncle’s horse when the poor beast had been returned from the Tribes two years ago. “And as for Hiccup; stopping by the stables to make sure he gets there isn’t even much of a detour, so that shouldn’t be a problem either. Calm down, Chippy. Relax! We’re here to forget all worries for a night, remember?”

He could practically see how the anger flowed out of his lover, though whether it was due to his reasoning or to the use of his usual nickname – short for Chipmunk, a reference to his striped chin – Dagur couldn’t tell. Maybe he would have gotten an answer to this question as Eret was about to reply, his mouth already half-way open. But he never got the chance to actually say anything as his return had apparently finally soaked into Daniel’s alcohol-laced mind and the Prince looked up at him, beaming.

“Heh, Eret! When did you come back?” he asked cheerfully. His voice was a little too loud and there was a slightly glassy shimmer in his eyes, but in Dagur’s opinion, that wasn’t cause to be worried yet. “What did your old man want that couldn’t wait?”

Eret threw him a last meaningful look, but then turned toward Daniel. “He wanted to ask my opinion,” he explained, immediately catching Dagur’s interest too. “About… well, it’s not really a secret anyway, I guess. Apparently, my sister is getting married.”

There was a tightening on Eret’s face, Dagur noticed, and, knowing where it was coming from, he wished he could reach out and squeeze his hand to offer comfort. But that would have given away too much… Sometimes, Dagur really hated having to keep secrets.

“Your sister is getting married?” Daniel and Hiccup asked almost simultaneously.

“Ester or Mirja? Wait, how old were they? Aren’t they… still toddlers, or something?” Daniel looked positively perplexed, frowning as he tried to remember. His question made Dagur snicker. With all his additional duties that had come with growing up, it obviously had been a while since Daniel had been to Eastervale.

“‘s got to be Ester,” Hiccup muttered, voice slurring heavily. “She turned seventeen a few months back. And Mirja is almost fifteen, by the way. Hardly t-toddlers anymore. So did that–” he frowned a little, “–uh... son of a baron ask her after all? Wha’ was ‘is name? Isker?”

“Isku,” Eret corrected, nodding. “And yeah, apparently he did,” he added with a grimace.

“And… that’s not good?” Daniel asked hesitantly, reacting to Eret’s tense posture. “Didn’t you say something about how you wouldn’t mind–”

“Oh, it is good,” Eret interrupted quickly. “Isku is a good man. Reliable. Digilant. Not above getting his hands dirty. And he truly cares for Ester. No, I couldn’t hope for a better man, for her and for the stud farm in Sunhill alike. It's just…’ he trailed off, eyes cast down at his hands. He took a big gulp of his beer, and didn’t even grimace even though Dagur was sure he must have noticed the Skullcrusher he’d put in there too. “It’s just… weird, I guess? It’s as if we’ve really grown up now, you know? I mean, sure, we’re knights now and all, but this…”

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” Daniel muttered as Eret trailed off. He took a swallow of his beer as well, before gesturing around from one to the other, starting with Dagur. “Heather is married, but she’s older anyway, so it’s not that strange. But now Ester marries, and… And it makes one wonder where we will end up, doesn’t it?” He laughed, a little shakily, then shook his head. “I mean, could you imagine getting married anytime soon?”

Next to him, Eret chuckled and shook his head, and Dagur was quick to follow. No, he couldn't imagine it, didn’t want to imagine it. There was only one person he wanted to spend his life with, but it could never be. Having to actively fight glancing at Eret, he turned his head into the opposite direction – and halted when his eyes landed on Hiccup instead.

A bemused expression crossed his face. He wasn't sure what kind of reaction he'd expected to Daniel's question from the boy. No, Hiccup wasn't a boy, Dagur reminded himself. He was just as old as he and Eret, and it was just his slighter build and serving demeanour with the underlying humour that made him seem younger. But that wasn't the point.

Dagur cocked his head. Hiccup's eyes had an undeniable glassy gleam in them, the alcohol clearly affecting him more than Dagur had anticipated. But what really drew his attention was the fact that Hiccup was grinning like an idiot. His lips were stretched, teeth showing a little, and his eyes were unseeingly cast to the table between them. There was an absent-minded and dreamy look in them that somehow fit to the way his left hand rubbed a spot at his chest.

“Hah,” Dagur laughed out loud. “Maybe you can’t imagine that, but it looks like there’s someone here who can.” Both Eret and Daniel looked at him in surprise, then turned toward Hiccup when Dagur nodded at him.

“Uh... what?” Hiccup muttered. When he looked up at them all staring at him, he had an undeniably caught look on his face, yet the dreamy grin was still there somehow.

“Hiccup?” Daniel asked, disbelievingly. “Don’t tell me, you–”

“Oh, don’t dare to deny it,” Dagur interrupted Daniel gleefully. He propped himself up on his elbows and leaned over the table to look at Hiccup more intently. “That look on your face just now said it all.”

Hiccup made an unintelligible noise somewhere between a whine and a groan as he looked from one to the other.

Dagur grinned. “So? Tell us everything about her. Who is she? I guess it’s a ‘she’? I want to know everything!”

Hiccup, having finished looking around the three of them for rescue and finding none, let his shoulders slump. But then a shy but dreamy smile once more spread across his face. Again, his left hand reached for his chest, and this time it looked as if he was toying with something beneath his tunic. A charm maybe? Glancing at Hiccup’s neck, Dagur noticed a leather cord peeking out at the hem, one he was relatively certain hadn’t been there before. So he actually already wore a token of his love? Oh, this should be interesting.

“You’re right,” Hiccup eventually muttered, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “There is someone, and she’s…” he trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

The show was highly amusing to Dagur, but Daniel seemed more confused. “I thought… Didn’t you say something about never having been in love like that not so long ago?”

The smile on Hiccup’s face grew a little sheepish now as he looked up at Daniel. “Was the truth back then,” he affirmed. “But… So many things happened since then, and–”

“No humming and hawing now, Hiccup,” Dagur probed further. “We want all the details.”

When Hiccup turned his attention toward Dagur, there was a bright spark of excitement in his dazed eyes. He’d apparently made a decision, and it seemed as if he’d only waited for an opportunity like this, because once Hiccup started to talk there seemed to be no end. “She’s amazing!” he began. “I only met her after we got here, but it already feels as if we’ve known each other forever. She’s so beautiful, her eyes gleaming as bright as the sky, and her hair… her soft skin, and those sweet lips. I could spend all day kissing her. But she’s so much more than just beautiful, also kind and funny, witty and smart, strong and brave. So brave…” he trailed off for a moment, his eyes gazing into the distance as he kept playing with the charm beneath his tunic. “And I love her. Gods, I do. I love her so much.”

A fond grin played around Dagur’s lips as he listened to Hiccup’s outburst. When he and Eret had found him all those months ago in that roadside tavern, he’d been wrecked. There was no gentle way to put it, really. He’d been shattered and broken, both physically and mentally, more dead than alive. Later, during the weeks Dagur had met him in Eastervale and during this last week here at the capitol, he’d seemed better, healthier, but still so calm and cool, detached. But this now? This was undeniably a new spark of life, and Dagur was happy to see him like this.

He glanced at Eret, knowing that his lover cared deeply for his cousin and that he had been worried about Hiccup’s welfare too. It surprised him then when, instead of a fond smile, he saw a tense frown on Eret’s face. Was he still thinking about Ester and her marriage? He wanted to give Eret a nudge, maybe a questioning look, something subtle, but before he could actually do so, Daniel drew his attention again.

“That sounds great, Hic,” he said, placing a hand on Hiccup’s shoulder. “Honestly, I’m happy for you. Surprised you didn’t say anything before though.” Hiccup shuffled a bit, mumbling incoherently, but Daniel didn’t seem to notice. “So I was wrong after all... Are you really thinking about marriage already, even with how short a time you know each other?”

At that, Hiccup laughed, a little giddily. “Yes,” he gasped with a measure of confidence that surprised even Dagur. “Yes, I am. I want to marry her. And I will marry her one day. She’s the one for me, I know it.”

“So she feels the same?”

Hiccup turned to look at Daniel again, a sincere expression on his face now that only barely got dulled by his obvious state of drunkenness. “Amazingly, she does.”

Daniel nodded. For a moment, Dagur thought he noticed a rueful, almost sad expression crossing his face, but it was gone before he could be sure, replaced by an honest smile. “Then you shouldn’t wait. You never know what the future brings; you should go and ask her father for her hand right away. If you’re sure then there’s no point in waiting.”

“It’s… not that easy,” Hiccup muttered, his shoulders slumping. “First, I… I have to convince her father of my worth. And her brother, too…” The last words were barely more than a whisper, and Dagur wasn’t quite sure whether he’d understood them right.

“Oh, but why wouldn’t they?” Daniel went on cheerfully. “You’re a good man, Hiccup, and if they fail to see that then they’re stupid. If you think you need time then so be it. But know that I’ll be supporting you if that helps.”

Hiccup was quiet for a minute, and just stared at Daniel. “Thank you,” he eventually breathed, the gleam in his eyes almost looking like a hint of a tear. “That… that really means a lot to me!”

“Anytime,” Daniel grinned back. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Very true,” Eret chimed in, and lifted his mug. “To friends who stand up for each other. Which reminds me, I haven’t heard much from Snot in a while. Do you know what he’s up to lately? Last I heard was that his crush on Swanja’s maidservant got thoroughly destroyed by his father. The poor man. But seriously, what did he expect? As if Uncle Spite would let him marry a servant.”

“Also true,” Daniel laughed. “But to be fair, Rachel had already done a lot of destroying that crush by that time. No idea what her type is, but it certainly wasn’t Snot. Besides, from what I heard, he’s already well over her anyway.”

Grinning to himself, Dagur leaned back in his chair. Maybe Eret had been right and adding Skullcrusher to this party had been a little over the top, but he didn’t feel like it was doing much damage either. The atmosphere was definitely more to his liking now. He took another gulp of his own beer, by far the strongest mix on this table, then joined the others as they discussed Snot’s latest exploits. Yep, this was certainly more fun.

. o O o .

*hides under rocks and enjoys the company there*

Here’s a reminder that there won't be a new chapter next week. However, there might be another bonus, possibly uploaded separately. Keep your eyes open :)

Next Chapter

#FTLOAP #for the love of a princess #the boys are having fun #Dagur especially #Hiccstrid #hiccstrid fanfiction #fanfiction #Hiccup and Astrid #HTTYD #httyd fanfiction #httyd fandom #medieval au #Hiccstrid Medieval AU #royalty au #hiccstrid royal au #fluff

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punkpoemprose · 7 years

Text

Siege of Arendelle- Chapter Eight

I really didn’t want to write this chapter, but it needed to be done. Probably no update next week because my boyfriend is coming home for the first time in a long time and I’m not going to leave him alone for even .5 seconds until he leaves again on Wednesday.

I would like to point, once more, to the blanket apology I created for this series.

Universe: Canon- Post Film Rating: T (Teen and Up)- Soon to change <3 Words: 3578

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven

Anna drank in the sunshine as she and Kristoff lay together on the line where the forest met their own personal Eden. The smell of the flowers she had tucked into her hair was far superior to any perfume she had back at the castle. And she felt far richer with his arms around her than she ever had as a crown Princess. She was his and he was hers and it was more than she had ever had. A love like the one they shared was all she'd ever wanted, and if it weren't for how badly she missed her sister, she wouldn't miss the city at all. She had done her duty to her people by keeping them free, and her reward for it was a simple life at the side of the kindest man she had ever known.

This is what it is to be loved.

His hands toyed with her hair as they talked about everything and nothing, letting the sun remove the dampness from their clothes, both what they still wore and what was draped over nearby branches. The heat was still excruciating, but a slight breeze coming from the rocks above and the water that still clung to them made it more manageable. Anna was almost certain, however, that despite the tan she had earned through hard outdoor work, her nose was well on its way to burning.

"There's a grotto up higher that I'll bring you to next time we're free. It's a longer walk, but I think you'll like it."

Anna smiled up at the sky, "You make it sound like we ever have free time," she teased, "with the way you like to keep up things at home I doubt we'll be free again until snowfall. You're practically a slave driver."

He laughed, the sound merry and full. She loved it when he laughed that way, like he was putting all of himself into it. Sometimes he chuckled and smirked, but when he laughed it wasn't just a sound, it was a state of being. His eyes twinkled and his smile was wide. She wished that she had the energy to push herself up off the ground so that she could witness it, but settled for feeling his joy through the way his arms pulled her a little closer until her head was resting on his chest.

"Didn't I warn you once that there'd come a day that you'd regret offering to help me? I won't deny that I'm a cruel and overworking boss to have when it comes to keeping up the house. If you want to quit the job I'll try not to be too disappointed."

"Oh, I don't plan on quitting," She said softly, mentally weighing the pros and cons of using her energy to roll over and kiss him again.

"Good! I wouldn't want to lose my best worker."

That was enough to help her make her decision as she rolled and squirmed until his lips were accessible to hers. He was all smiles and laughs when she kissed him, but he was quick to give in to the kiss, closing her eyes as she closed hers and relaxing into her expression of affection. She kissed him slow and languid as his arms wrapped around her tighter, pulling her up onto his chest completely.

They kiss deepened and Anna felt a heat unrelated to the sun rise to her cheeks as his hand made its way into her hair again, the other resting against the small of her back. He was never one to press his advantage when it came to their relationship, even if she desperately wanted him to. She could think about a million things she wanted to do in the position they currently found themselves. She was hardly wearing anything at all, only in a slightly damp white chemise, and while his shirt was on, it was unbuttoned. It would hardly take her any time or effort whatsoever to do the same to his trousers.

The thought was tempting, and she wondered how he might react to it. Their bodies were pressed close and she was sure that he could feel the way in which their kiss was shifting from innocent to intimate with each breath they took.

He broke the kiss and sat up so abruptly that she went tumbling off him and into a less than dignified pile at his side.

"Sorry," he said looking over at her quickly, "I heard something."

Anna sighed and tried to compose herself and keep down the urge to punch his shoulder for the unceremonious way in which he had deposited her on the ground, but she didn't. She heard it too, and at his side she scrambled with him to stand up properly.

She thought that the sound might be a horse, and Kristoff was already pulling her behind him by the time she realized that she was right. A rider burst through the forests edge and nearly didn't stop the horse in time to keep from running them both over.

The horse whinnied loudly as it was reigned to a stop, and Anna breathed a sigh of relief as she recognized the rider.

"Kari!" Anna called to the woman before her, pressing her hand to Kristoff's back to try to send him the message that they weren't in any danger.

Kari took a step forward, away from her horse and fell to one knee before the pair. "I have urgent news from Arendelle my lady," she said as she stared at the ground before Kristoff's feet. Their disheveled appearance not striking her as odd, or at least if she did, Anna couldn't see it on her face. She didn't have time to feel embarassed about being caught scantily clad and alone with a man, because her brain was already trying to make sense of what on Earth could have been so urgent that Elsa would send a rider.

"Is everything alright?" Anna asked, a knot in her gut told her that she already knew the answer to the question. She pushed past Kristoff who was still, whether it be due to a lack of conviction in her safety or simple shock, standing between her and the young guardswoman before them.

"My lady I hope you'll excuse me for not following protocol, but I'm afraid the situation is dire," Kari said as she stood, "There was an assasination attempt on the Queen last night, and by our intel in was planned long before the announcement of your engagement. It seems that the royal family of the Southern Isles intended to stage a coup for control of Arendelle. War ships are approaching the harbor as we speak. The Queen sent me to make you both aware that you should stay away from the city."

Anna felt something in her heart break, but she didn't allow the shock to affect her quite yet. She compartmentalized her anxiety and looked into the eyes of the other woman, her face a mask of control. She was doing her best to go back into Princess mode after months of being able to just be Anna, and she wasn't sure what scared her more, the events that Kari had just explained to her, or how calm she felt in the face of them.

She felt Kristoff's hand go to the small of her back, a reassuring gesture that barely registered to her as her brain hummed with questions. Before she was able to ask any of them, Kristoff was already speaking.

"Do they know she's alive?"

"Our information says that they believed that she drowned," she said simply, "however it doesn't mean that they won't come for you. The people like you and they know how close you are to the royal family. If we fail to hold them back at the city they'll likely come for you. You'd be the most likely to lead the people in a rebellion."

"My sister," Anna said, her face straight, but her voice crackling with the emotion that was desperately attempting to escape her. She didn't give Kristoff time to speak again as the most burning question on her mind needed to be answered, "What of the Queen?"

Kari's mask fell for a moment, the strong young woman unable to maintain her detachment when faced with a question with such emotional ties to it. She looked as if she understood the question, the need to know first about a loved one, even above one’s country.

"The Queen lives," she said simply, "She was attacked last night in her sleep by the Prince, who remained under the guise of grieving. He managed to cut her neck, but he did not expect," she paused, a blush rising to her cheeks as she decided better of how many details she shared with the couple before her, "He did not succeed. He is currently in the castle dungeon."

Kristoff looked at the woman with confusion though Anna already understood. Of course, Kari had been nearby. Elsa had spent the day pretending to put her sister to rest, it would have been stressful for anyone. Anna could hardly blame her for seeking comfort.

"She'll be needing me," Anna said, proud of the way she kept her voice level once again, "I'll return with you to the city. I assume efforts are being made to evacuate civilians? I may be of assistance in those plans."

Kari gave Anna a sad smile. Anna could tell that the woman, only a bit older than herself, had a respect for her willingness to leave the happiness that she had wandered into the assist her people in the fight.

"With all respect my lady," she said, bowing again, "The Queen was very firm in her wishes."

Kari turned from Anna and looked to Kristoff, leaving Anna with a strange feeling that they both knew something that she didn't.

"The Queen informed me to make you both aware of what has transpired, and to remind the Ice master of his duty."

She turned away from them both and took her horse's reigns in her hand, "If there is nothing more that you require of me my lady I must be off to report back to the Queen."

Anna watched the woman mount her horse, and as she attempted to step forward, to demand that she take her with her, she felt strong hands catch her shoulders and pull her back.

"There's a black horse back at my home," Kristoff said to the woman, "I won't be needing him, and he's just another mouth to feed. Bring him back to the city and offer him for the evacuation efforts. Inform the Queen that I'm a man of my word."

Anna pulled against his grip, but he held her tighter each time she struggled, and while mere minutes before she had enjoyed the feeling of being pulled tight to his chest, she was furious to be restrained against it now.

Kari nodded and spurred on her horse, as Anna called after her, her voice breaking as she shouted after her, at Kristoff, and purely to drown out the cacophony of fear and emotion that filled her mind and overran the momentary control that shock had given her.

When Kristoff finally let go of her, she sunk to her knees and tears rolled thick down her cheeks. Her gut twisted as she threw off the hand he offered her. He hadn't let her go. He had promised she could go where she liked. He had promised her freedom, and he had held her back. She wanted to puke, her stomach flipping over what was soon to come, what could already be happening in her kingdom below. Every moment she hid away in the forests was a moment that she could be spending helping to save her people. Blood spilled was blood on her hands. She retched, but nothing came out.

He was saying something behind her, but she wouldn't listen. The ringing in her ears was too loud to even bother. She felt her hands shaking, she felt him touching her, but the only thing she was cognizant of fully was fear and a sense of betrayal.

***

Elsa stretched her hands out before her and took a deep breath. She tried to think of the water, from where the waves lapped at her feet to all the way to the entrance to the Fjord. Energy burned beneath her skin, and while she still hadn't mastered her talents, she had some confidence that what she was about to do would at least slow the advance of the ships that were on their way.

She had faith in the intel that she had been given, after all her spymaster was her most trusted ally in the fight that her people were getting into. Her spymaster had saved her life.

She pushed out hearing the water around her freeze as she focused on extending it as far as possible. They wouldn't expect her to be able to stop them. They were counting on her to be dead already. She hoped that it surprised them. She hoped it terrified them enough to send them straight back to the little rock in the ocean that they called a kingdom.

"I have too much to lose," she said under her breath as if the King and Queen of the Southern Isles themselves could hear her. No one was near her, she had demanded peace to do her work. "I will not let you ruin the happiness I've made. I will not let you destroy these lives for political gain."

She thought of Anna and Kristoff, of their happiness and safety. They were the only family that she had left, and she was going to be damned if she let them get hurt. She thought about her people. The way they had accepted her so instantly despite the damage that she had caused still amazed her, and each person she met was kinder than the last. She didn't deserve to be their Queen if she could not keep them safe. She thought about Kari, her spymaster, personal guard, and sometimes her everything.

She felt her power grow stronger as she thought of her. Emotion was always the root of her power, and the thought of what they had done the night before, warm as it was, was enough to make her feel absolutely certain that she was icing over the entirety of the fjord.

She focused on the memories, her cheeks going hot and making her grateful that her guards and the volunteer fighters from the city itself were far off. She tried to remember it all, the way Kari's lips had felt against her neck as her wandering hands had memorized every curve of her body. Elsa almost laughed with how shy she had been herself. If she had known what would have happened just hours later she might have been a little more proactive in their intimacy, but she had never been the type of woman to initiate much of anything, and she counted herself as blessed that Kari had been bold enough to be the one to kiss first and ask questions later.

It had felt so good to have her body intertwined with another, and despite the sweat and heat between them, Elsa had felt more comfortable in her skin with Kari above her than she had in a very long time. That was what she pulled from to damn the Southern Isles ships. She pulled from Kari's love.

She promised herself that the next time she was able to be with her she would be the one to give as much as she had. She wanted to kiss her like she had kissed her. She wanted to touch her like she had touched her. With one last push, she was pulled away from her thoughts by the snowflakes that fell upon her own face.

She turned around. The city itself was still fully in summer. Flowers bloomed mere feet away, and she could feel the heat on her skin. The fjord, however, was a sheet of ice with a flurry of snow hanging above it.

Pride welled up in her chest, and she nearly fell upon her knees in relief. If she could freeze the whole fjord and have enough control to keep the city warm and dry she knew that she could save her people. She knew that she could keep everything and everyone she loved safe.

***

"You lied to me."

"I know," he said. He hadn't pushed her to speak on the walk home. He hadn't expected any more from her than she was willing to give. At first, she had thought that he was just as shocked and afraid as she was, but there was more to it than just that. He was allowing himself to be her punching bag. He was holding back all his feelings so that she could express her own.

He hadn't denied anything that she had said, even the things that she knew weren't completely true. That was what hurt her the worst, because she knew that her words were what were making him feel guilty rather than his own actions. She knew that she was being harsh, but she didn't know what else to do with herself.

"Stop agreeing with me!"

She hadn't realized that she was screaming until she said it. She felt simultaneously hyperactive and dead tired, and all she wanted to do was lay down and cry. She had long since admitted to herself that she wasn't actually angry with him. She didn't even have to hear his explanation to know that whatever he had promised her sister, he had only done so because it made him believe that he was keeping her safe. That was just how he was.

"Why?" He asked, his eyes genuinely confused as he looked at her. He was giving her plenty of room, but the way he kept slightly moving his arms before stilling them at his sides clued in Anna that he wanted her close. He wasn't angry at her for yelling, and he wanted to hold her.

She wanted to be held.

Hot angry tears were rolling down her cheeks and she was sick of being angry. Being held felt too much like giving in, but she wasn't sure of what else she could do when she had already yelled, he had already agreed with her, and she knew that he was actually guilty of very little of what had her so keyed up in the first place.

"Because you didn't actually do anything, you just didn't tell me that Elsa made you agree to something and you held me back. I keep yelling at you like everything is your fault, and you're just taking it. Stop."

She knew how defeated and small she must look because her voice sounded exhausted and weak, and she felt worse than she sounded.

"You need to get it out and it's okay," he said with a sigh, "and I feel like this is my fault."

Anna laughed beside herself and looked at him, "Why, did you make plans to invade the city and try to kill my sister?"

He sighed and finally lost the battle he was having with himself, holding his arms up for her in the middle of the cabin. It was insufferably hot still, and even warmer with all the yelling she had been doing, but despite this and her rage, she gave in in return and stepped forward into his embrace.

"No," he said softly, tension leaving both of their bodies once they were close again, "But I didn't tell you about what Elsa and I agreed on, and that wasn't right. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm sorry I couldn't stop all of this before it started."

She looked up at him, the anger draining from her body, "What do you mean by that?"

He sighed wearily, "It's a long story."

"Well my sister banned me from the city, so I've got all the time in the world."

Anna hated the flat acceptance her tone had taken on. It had meant to have been an annoyed sounding phrase, but it came out without inflection. She was dead tired, and she wanted nothing more, angry and upset or not, to go upstairs with him and collapse into their shared bed together.

"You might want to sit down for it," he said, releasing her from the embrace. "There's a lot that I need to tell you."

#Siege of Arendelle #Kristanna #Kristoff #Anna #Frozen

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samwpmarleau · 7 years

Text

pas de deux

in which arthur wins the tourney at harrenhal and crowns elia like a responsible adult and no one is offended except rhaegar

He’s not going to crown her. He’ll win the joust, because of course he will, but he won’t crown her. Of little else is she so certain.

His eye has wandered, to put it delicately, and he has not been subtle about it either. It was innocent, at first, when the girl had wept at his song, and then turned into something much different. He’s enraptured by her for a reason that Elia has tried and failed to comprehend.

Lyanna Stark is pretty enough, she supposes, in a wild, coltish kind of way, but she’s still half a child, a wolf pup barely out of its den. Only Robert Baratheon seems to be as taken with her as Rhaegar, which, as her betrothed, is at least understandable. But Rhaegar…him Elia has no explanation for.

The final set of jousters comes as a surprise to no one: Rhaegar, Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan, Leo Tyrell. Ser Barristan beats Tyrell handily, leaving Rhaegar against Ser Arthur. It’s far from an unfamiliar set, they having battled many times over the years. The last time she’d seen one such bout was Lord Robert’s tourney three years ago held in the memory of Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana. Arthur had nearly won then, battling Rhaegar through a dozen rounds before conceding defeat.

Even now, she wonders whether he had truly been bested, or whether he’d done it on purpose. It’s a common rumor, that the Kingsguard don’t often try their hardest lest they injure their future sovereign. She knows Rhaegar is a consummate jouster, but she’d also seen Arthur in countless tourneys in Dorne, and he’d gone undefeated in them all despite going up against plenty of consummate jousters there, too.

It’s irrelevant, really. Whether legitimately or on purpose, he would be on the losing end today, she has no doubt, and she gets the honor of being jilted in front of half the world. Rhaegar’s looking at the girl now, too, atop his black mount, and Elia clasps her hands in her lap so tightly her fingers turn purple. Not even Ashara’s soothing touch does anything to mitigate her simmering anger.

At the sound of the herald’s trumpet, destrier and sand steed come together round after round. While the matchup had not surprised her, this longevity does. At Lord Robert’s tourney, the joust had had more of a frolicking atmosphere, two friends competing in good humor.

This, though…the hits are harder, Arthur’s posture is rigid, tension drenches the combatants like a pall. She can see their faces through the slits in their helms, a kind of confusion in Rhaegar’s and conviction in Arthur’s. What the reason might be for it, however, she can’t fathom. To her knowledge, there’s been nothing to put them at odds, so why would there be discord now?

The sixth round is what sends the crowd to frenzied whispers. Rhaegar’s lance is a hair off-kilter, a weakness Arthur pounces on: a resounding crack, a grunt of pain, then Rhaegar is flung from his saddle. With that, the herald announces that the final contest will consist of the realm’s two most revered warriors, Kingsguard against Kingsguard.

Arthur removes his helm and dismounts to help Rhaegar up, sunlight glinting off the silver sword-and-star on his surcoat. They don’t exchange any words, but there’s no time to dwell on it for Rhaegar briskly leaves his horse with the stablehand and his squire hops to in divesting him of his armor.

Half an hour passes as Arthur and Ser Barristan prepare, and Rhaegar takes his seat beside her, blatantly discontented. A good wife would placate him, say there’s no disgrace in losing to an opponent such as Arthur, but all she has to do is remember how he’d looked at Lady Lyanna, and her mouth stays firmly shut.

The champion’s tilt requires one more lance than Rhaegar’s had, but ultimately Ser Barristan is unhorsed just as decisively. Ashara abandons all dignity, jumping to her feet and wildly cheering for her brother. Though Elia’s applause is less ostentatious, happiness swells within her—a victory for Arthur is a victory for their homeland, after all.

She remembers the day he had arrived in Sunspear to squire for her uncle, brimming with excitement and fastidious in his training. To see him emerge triumphant in front of so many she feels is a well-deserved accomplishment. Ashara would receive a crown as pretty as she is, and Elia can think of no one more worthy of wearing it.

Lord Whent slides the blue winter roses onto Arthur’s lance, and he directs his horse toward the royal stands as she’d anticipated. Except he doesn’t stop in front of his sister—he stops in front of her. He places the crown into her lap, and she gapes at him, nothing short of stunned.

“For the future queen,” he declares, voice ringing out across the lists. It could be a trick of the light, but for a moment she thinks she sees his eyes flash over to Rhaegar, almost in challenge, before darting back to her. “Your beauty and grace put the very sun to shame.”

She knows surely this must simply be out of respect, not in earnest, but nevertheless a smile grows. Though she may not honestly believe his words, he has publicly recognized her above all the more winsome women in attendance. The Starks clap respectfully at the display, Lady Lyanna animated as she talks with the littlest wolf, and what ill will she’d been feeling towards the girl fades.

“Thank you,” she says to Arthur. She hands her circlet of yellow sapphires to Ashara and replaces it with the wreath of roses.

He flashes her a rare smile, then gallops off toward the stables. She can’t help but stare after him, his ivory armor and Ny Sar’s gleaming white coat just this side of blinding.

When purples and oranges begin to flood the sky, the guests file into the great hall for supper, and Elia takes her place on the dais next to a lukewarm Rhaegar. As ever, Arthur is diligently standing off to the side, scrutinizing the gentry for any potential threats.

Once everyone has settled, Lord Whent addresses the room. “Thank you to all who have voyaged to attend this tourney, most especially to our esteemed and gracious king. We are each of us humbled by your presence,” he announces, glancing nervously at Aerys with every other word. “Without further delay, the traditional dance will start our supper. Your Graces, if you will?”

The heady scent of roses from the crown she still wears reminds her that she has a card to play. “Begging your pardon, my lord,” she says, “but is it not customary for the Queen of Love and Beauty to select her own partner?”

A hush falls, her statement plainly startling Lord Whent. “Oh, well, yes, naturally,” he stutters, “but I’d assumed—”

Elia cuts him off with a serene smile and gets to her feet. Resolute, she strides past Rhaegar and approaches Arthur instead. “Ser, do you care to join me?”

Something akin to panic crosses his face—perhaps he’s recalling how atrocious of a dancer he was in their youth—but nevertheless he allows her to take his hand.

For once, the murmurs that run through the crowd give her vindictive satisfaction.

If she’d been hoping the matter could be forgotten, she doesn’t get her wish. Later, while finessing out countless hairpins, Ashara comments, “People have been talking.”

“People are always talking. What is it for this time?”

“You know full well what for. Your dance, it—”

“It was nothing.” And it was. It was.

“It wasn’t nothing. It was Arthur beating Rhaegar, it was him crowning you in front of everyone, it was you choosing to dance with him over your husband. I’m not accusing you of anything,” she hurries on at Elia’s scowl, “that’s just what people are saying. You know how they live for their gossip.”

“They’re vermin.” She shakes out her hair, grateful to finally rid it of its complicated ensnarement. “Though I confess I didn’t expect they’d drag Arthur into it. Ridiculing me is one thing, but I’d have thought they’d have more respect for your brother.”

“Arthur looked…” Ashara hesitates. “Elia, my brother is a wonderful man,” she says carefully, “but a man all the same.”

“Don’t be absurd. He gave me the crown because he wanted to prevent me from suffering insult, that’s it. He said so himself.”

But that hadn’t been the only thing he told her, had it? I did not crown you false, princess, he’d said, his hand warm on her back, his voice too low to be heard by anyone but her. You are indeed a beautiful woman.

She hadn’t known what to say to that. She’d wanted to call his bluff, but he was so sincere that it was hard not to believe him. And once she’d done so, she’d begun to…well, notice him. The years had done him well, giving him handsomeness where once he’d been ordinary, breadth and height where once he’d been gangly and short, an evenly shadowed jaw where once it’d been patchy, a few scars where once there’d been none. She’d realized then that he’s not just a Kingsguard, but a hotblooded Dornishman of four-and-twenty, same as her.

And then afterwards, he’d seemed almost…

“Ash, there have been enough ill-done entanglements at this tourney without you inventing another.”

The name Brandon Stark lingers between them, and a bright red blush colors Ashara’s cheeks. “Yes, my lady. But I didn’t invent anything,” she says. “It’s the oldest tale, isn’t it? A princess and a white knight?”

#elia martell #arthur dayne #arthur x elia #asoiaf #gotfic #my fic #compliance: canon au

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