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pearlywritings · 8 months

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Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife. PART 2

pairings: Capitano, Kaveh, Tighnari, Zhongli x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, hurt/comfort; hybrids, unwelcomed courting, kind of female objectification (all in Tighnari's part)

word count: 6.9k+ words

a/n: part 1 can be read here!

Capitano

Fast elegant fingers of a pianist run across the keys of black and white and the violins in the hands of other musicians are there to serve together with the chorus of beautiful voices, selected by Lady Columbina personally. The music infiltrates the souls of the nobles present, filling them with the sense of grandeur and glory, touching even their harsh unfeeling hearts.

The atmosphere of the gathering is gratifying, would’ve even been endearing if not for the stately figures of the Harbingers standing on both sides of the throne, where the Tsaritsa would've been seated had she not decided to refrain from attending it altogether. She has more important matters to take care of, and nine of her most loyal servants can definitely fill in her place on that yearly event.

Sure, this year it is more important since the two Harbingers are missing and the seats stay vacant - it's been the talk of the nation. Who is going to be nominated? Can it be influenced? Will they claim the names today?

Is the mysterious Commander, whose arrival became the topic of multiple speculations, be the one? A fierce warrior many heard of, but almost none saw face to face. The man was believed to be as powerful as the 11th Harbinger or maybe even the 10th! Having an army and an establishment of his own on the farthest line of the Snezhnayan border, he still is under the command of Lord Capitano, which makes it even harder to fish any more information than what is already known to the public.

"I only heard about him. He and his troops are protecting our borders from the monster's invasion in the North."

"Ew, who would've wanted to live in the North! It's much harsher than all the Snezhnaya."

"Shush, the Commander is wealthy and respectful, you can bear some cold."

"What do you imply?"

"The Commander is unmarried, there is no way he isn't, not with a life like this. But it can always be changed, and the woman he takes as wife would be one of the luckiest ones!"

"You are right… Maybe he is actually handsome. Maybe he'd be even willing to buy a whole mansion for his promised one and not take her with him to that awful place. Maybe…"

Maybe, maybe, maybe. It travels through the crowds like a storm in its wake, eventually reaching the Harbingers, who, for the first time after appearing and greeting the already arrived, stop resembling the statues. Eyes shift among the people and each other; some gazes hold interest, some - annoyance. Only Pantalone has an ever present smile on his face, fingers clasped in front of him and sapphire rings sparkle in the ballroom light.

"Looks like Capitano's estimated soldier caught everyone's attention. My, my, how curious and nosy the people can be…"

"I understand the curiosity though," admits Childe, arms crossed to prevent laying even a finger on his blade, that is resting on his hip. "This person sounds like an interesting specimen… I've heard of his talents in both strategy and tactics, and it seems like his strength is a legend. I'd love to spar with him."

"Oh you, thinking only about fights, young man," Pulcinella disapprovingly shakes his head and raises his cane to point in the gingerhead's direction. "I highly doubt our guest will have time to spare, considering the period of time concerning the stay that was mentioned in the letter we received."

"And I believe the majority of that time would be spent with Il Capitano, isn't it right?" Columbina's soft voice must be drowning in the music, but everyone hears her loud and clear.

"..." The Harbinger stays silent and nothing can be read from his body language since he is the only one remaining still in his place, his huge looming figure resembling one of the full-set armor nobles like putting in their halls as a part of interior. Except this one isn't empty.

"So much potential to become my test subject, to be perfected... Yet lost to the lands of Northern regions," Dottore huffs in disappointment, his sharp teeth peaking when he clicks his tongue. "Say, Pierro, can't things be rearranged? I'd happily have our dear border protector as my underling."

The silence between the nine suddenly becomes thick. There is something indescribably tense in the air and only Childe can't understand why some of his colleagues seem to be more interested in how the Captain would react and not the 1st of the Harbingers..

"You know why this can't be rearranged, Dottore," the stare of an icy blue eye would pin everyone to the ground, destroying their will and order to obey, though doing little to scare the Doctor. "And it was favored by the Tsaritsa herself."

The finality of the short statement makes the scientist back down from the proposition he's been bringing up every time the topic touches the Commander, yet ending up the same way as always - with an ultimate rejection.

Three heavy thuds make everyone in the room fall silent. Many heads turn to look at the ceremonial staff hitting the floor the last time and staying still in the hand of a tall, thoroughly dressed man.

"The protector of the Northern border, the glorified and esteemed warrior of Her Majesty Tsaritsa, The Commander has arrived," the master's of ceremonies voice carries like a thunderclap, cutting off the quite leisurely music the orchestra was playing for the dances and entertainment.

The rustle of note sheets is fleeting and not a moment later the musicians straighten in their seats, taking a deep breath. Trumpets boom in a spacious room and make nobles shiver in surprise, some especially susceptible women even lean on their partners for support. The choir and the violins join the triumphant song the brass instruments sing, signaling that the time has come.

Everyone holds their breath as the tall heavy doors leading to the ballroom are being pulled open. Everyone has their gaze glued to a slowly growing gap. Everyone keeps their eyes wide open, afraid that even one blink can cost them missing the legendary sight.

Everyone gasps.

The tall figure enters, posture straight and shoulders squared, confidence evident in every step. Black satin clothes are adorned with golden chains and intricate patterns. The white military coat stayed resting on the shoulders - showing off the position, the closeness to the Harbingers. And then there is the face - a scar crossing the left brow, calm bored eyes, not sparing anyone a glance, which do not fit the other female features of your face.

Yes, the Commander happens to be a woman.

Stopping by the steps leading to the throne, you bow - not kneel, bow, - holding your open palm by the heart and respectfully closing your eyes. Music stops.

“Greetings, my lords. Let Tsaritsa bless you and your mission.”

“Let Tsaritsa bless you and your service to her,” Pierro says, raising his hand. “Lift your head,” which you do, looking him right in the eyes, yet still holding your hand by the chest. “There is time for duties and there is time for entertainment. And tonight, given your rare visits to the capital, I suggest you enjoy the latter.”

“Much obliged, Lord Pierro.”

And with a wave of the older man’s hand, the orchestra starts a new composition, waking up the ones who were in a daze, reminding others they are here for drama.

And the first one to take action is the 11th Harbinger.

“Commander, Sir- I mean, Lady?” The gingerhead is the closest to you out of all his colleagues, having only to descend a few steps to be on your level. “I’ve heard a lot about you, many admirable things. How do you look at sparring?”

“Right in the middle of a ballroom? Quite positively, young man,” your lips twist in a half-smirk, baring a sharp pearly canine. “But I believe the nobles have already had enough shock to take and rumors to create. Maybe another time. Haven’t seen you before though. Are you new?”

“Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger, Lady Commander.”

“Ma’am would be enough,” you click your tongue, glancing behind and noticing how slowly, but surely some of the aristocrats are inching towards you, clearly interested in conversation, Well, you are not. “On second thought, starting a duel right now and here doesn’t sound like a bad idea…”

“I’ve always known you are quite insane,” Arlechino butts her way in the conversation, giving you only a small nod as a greeting. You simply glance at her.

“For years I’ve been hearing of my insanity, think of something new,”

“How about, ‘the one who knows no limits’?” Pantalone’s smile is as dazzling as it’s fake and sometimes your hands are itching to strangle the man. Maybe even go all the way out and bite his head off. Literally.

“The only ones who know no limits are the wind and the stupidity. I’m neither. Who I am though,” your gaze travels higher, to the steps closest to the Tsaritsa’s throne, to there Pierro and the first three Harbingers are standing, “is a wife. And I’d like to have a dance with my husband.”

Not many heard your words, but the ones who did, gasp loudly, staring at you with wide eyes. Which get even wider when Il Capitano, a seemingly motionless statue before, turns in his place and, without a pause, steadily descends to you. Now, as you are standing so closely it becomes evident how obviously your outfits match. The chains, the patterns, even the precious stones - everything. Perhaps it is terrifyingly cute. Perhaps it's cutely terrifying.

“Husband,” your smile again, offering him your hand, which he immediately envelopes in his big clawed one.

“Wife,” is the first word the big figure rumbles for the evening, the void of its helmet staring at you. And that’s all you speak to each other, hearing the beginning of another melody and turning to join the dancing pairs.

“...What was that?” Childe voices what’s been plaguing the minds of the attendees. “First the Commander appears to be a woman, and now she is married to the Lord Il Capitano?” He glances at Pulcinella, who joins his side and decides to watch the pair that caused a commotion have their fun. “Do they not use their names?”

“They find no sense in them,” the Rooster answers just the last question. “And,” he lowers his voice and the ginger has to bend down to hear the next words, “I didn’t tell you that, but the Captain really loves calling her his wife. So be quite cautious while seeking a fight with her. You might end up impaled. By either of them.”

Kaveh

With a soft smile you watch a group of children merrily leaving their classroom, interrupting each other in attempts to tell everyone how exciting the lesson was. They do not forget to grin and wave at you, passing by, and you return the sentiment, contently observing their happy faces and sparkly eyes.

Every time this happens, a strange sense of fulfillment overtakes you - supporting and sponsoring Kaveh was one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. The greatest architect of nowadays is offering his guidance to the young generation, teaching them everything about beauty and practicality, helping them to develop their own creative vision, and at the same time boosting the confidence of kids of all ages. And you couldn’t be prouder of him.

Him, who meticulously prepares for every single lesson. Him, who is oh-so-gentle with his words and precise in his speech. Him, who teaches both Sumeru citizens and people coming from abroad. Him, who is as passionate about it, as he is about his designing job, telling you every single detail of how the lessons went on your way home or over the dinner. Him, who is happy and who makes you happy too with that fact alone.

When the last kid leaves, marking the ending of the final class for today, you glance at the clock. Now Mister Meticulousness will need half an hour to tidy up the classroom and put all the tools away. Tomorrow is free from classes at his (he always corrects your as in the both of you) school, so you can collect your stuff as well - after all, being the manager of this establishment and Kaveh specifically requires your presence. You can be strict and unyielding whenever he can’t and this partnership proves to be successful every day.

Just as you are writing down some financial staff, there is a soft knock on the doorframe. Immediately lifting your eyes you hum, observing a very good-looking woman and a boy, shyly holding onto her hand.

“Hello, how can I help you?” With a quill laid on top of your accounting book, you stand and round the table, offering the two to step closer.

“Ah, hello, miss…” eyes with long, pretty lashes flit to the name tag attached to your clothes, “...Y/n. This is master Kaveh’s artistic school, am I correct?”

“Yes, you are. Are you here to sign your boy up for a class?” You offer her son a sweet smile and he answers you with a small lift of his lips.

“Mhm. You see, he is a big fan of master Kaveh and his works - can study the pictures of his designs taken by Kamera day and night.”

At that, the boy lowers his gaze and blushes a little, digging a hole in the ground with the tip of his shoe.

“Oh, really?” A gasp that escapes your chest is one of excitement. “That’s marvelous! I am sure your hopefully soon-to-be-teacher will be very interested in hearing your opinion of his works, young connoisseur,” he giggles, lifting his eyes at you again, and there you see undisguised delight. “Oh, but my bad, I didn’t ask your names…”

The woman’s lips bare two rows of perfectly white teeth as she smiles at you, introducing herself and her son.

“We are from Fontaine actually. But my parents wanted to spend some indefinite period of time in Sumeru for their health and we decided to join them. So while we are here, I thought I’d make my son’s dream come true.”

“That’s so nice of you,” you can’t help but admire her a little for that. “I can tell you first a little about our school, you’ll ask all the questions you need to, and then I’ll show you around. Kaveh should be done with cleaning by then, so there’s a big chance you’ll even talk to him personally.”

“Really!?” That’s the first time throughout your entire interaction when the boy opens his mouth and actually makes a sound. “Master Kaveh is here right now?”

“He is. But can’t promise a long conversation - there are still blueprints waiting for him back at home.

“Ah, right… He is the great architect after all,” the woman hums, staring to the side as if in thought. “Between the commissions he takes and this school he must be making good money. Not to mention so handsome…”

Oh… What a familiar tone, what a familiar look in those eyes. Suddenly that ounce of respect you felt for her disappears.

“Money is irrelevant to him as long as he reaches his goal,” is your restrained response.

“Ah, of course! Handsome, sweet, kind, good with kids and is not a snob. Sweety, you ought to charm him for me!” She pinches her son’s cheek. “Imagine Master Kaveh as your daddy!”

Oh Archons, again?

There is absolutely no doubt that the light of Kshahrewar is not only well-known and popular among kids, but is thirsted after by women. In a half of a year your school has been existing, there were numerous times when moms of little students made comments alike or some single females trying to schedule private sessions with the architect. What a sagacious decision it was to make group studying only, it saves you some drama, once the legal document is shown. Though there are exceptionally persistent examples…

But this time you pity the kid a little, because he genuinely seems to admire Kaveh. And his next words make you internally cheer for the little guy.

“Master Kaveh as my dad? But mom, I have a dad already,” the boy pouts, rubbing at the pinched cheek. You notice a red mark and two little crescent moons that her nails left on a tender skin. “I love him and don’t need another one.”

“Sweety, you just don’t understand how great it would be to have such a dad! Just trust my word-”

“Ahem, Madame, I kindly ask you to deal with your family affairs once you are out of here. As for the school - I am open for discussion.”

The displeased way she glances at you doesn’t go unnoticed, but you do not show it anyhow, calmly staring back at her, while your hand reaches up to your chest. As if finally remembering her initial reason for coming here with her son, the woman sighs and puts a palm on the boy’s shoulder.

“Of course, miss- I’m sorry I forgot your name…” And her eyes flit to the name tag again.

Momentarily the woman squints from the light reflecting on the metal, and when she blinks the bright spots away, there is a beautiful golden ring on your hand. The hand that is holding the flipped tiny plate with just two words engraved in it.

"Kaveh's wife"

With widened eyes she stares back at your sweetly polite smile. Not saying a word as if letting the notion sink in, you walk to the wall. Grabbing the backs of two chairs you drag them to your table so they could sit, and take your rightful place in front of them.

“If you are here for something aside from or instead of signing your son up for classes, I believe my name should be irrelevant to you. My status though,” you knock a nail twice on the badge, “must. So… what are you here for, Madame?”

The boy climbs onto his chair right away, while his mother tarries a little, still shocked by the revealed fact and your suddenly changed demeanor. She needs a couple more seconds to compose herself, but eventually she too sits down.

Despite what happened earlier, your conversation proves to be fruitful and fifteen minutes later you are showing around the school, sharing some additional information and answering every single of the kid’s questions.

When in the last room you find your husband, closing Mehrak and looking ready to leave, the boy lets out a gasp. The sound attracts the man’s attention, and he turns to the three of you with a soft smile.

“Oh, hello there, little guy!” The blond waves at him, breaking the blissful stupor of a child that immediately turns red and hides behind his mother. Surprised, Kaveh looks at you for explanation but, instead, takes notice of your name’s replacement. Oh wow, this again. What was the last time you did that? Two weeks ago?

“Ah, Master Kaveh!” The woman charmingly smiles, batting her lashes at him, which would’ve made you cringe had it never happened before. “You see, my son-”

“Pardon me, Madame, give me a moment,” the male softly interrupts her and reaches for a similar metal plate on his chest with his own name to flip it. It’s almost comical how sour the temptress’s face got in a second.

And there is what for. Now two words are proudly matching yours, engraved in an equally beautiful cursive to remind the world who the two of you become once stripped of your names.

Just his ”Y/n’s husband” to your “Kaveh’s wife”.

And like that one more kid takes part in your lovely school and one suitor less is after one of its founders.

Tighnari

With each passing day of your team’s research in the desert you found it harder and harder to control yourself. Some days you were even on the verge of clawing and biting, tail and ears twitching in annoyance and pupils turning into wild slits, making your hybrid nature more obvious.

Was it because of the research? No, it couldn’t be farther - your colleagues have been making so much progress, heeding your advice and following your lead. Was it the location perhaps? A little, but you learnt how to deal with heat and dryness. Was the process taking too much time? On the contrary, you are on your way home already, having finished the job 4 days earlier than you estimated in the beginning.

Then what on earth could possibly trigger you like this?

Well…

“Hey, forest foxy, want me to catch the Consecrated Flying Serpent for you?”

Ah yes, him.

Never again will you trust the higher ups at the Akademiya to sponsor your team with the bodyguards. Out of every possible candidate, your Herbad-titled colleague concluded that hiring five descendants of Valuka Shuna would be a marvelous idea.

“They are the desert kind - they’ll be good guides.” “Look how much stronger they are, they’ll definitely protect all of you.” “They are of the same kind as you, Y/n. Don’t you think it’ll be easier for you, as the leader, to have someone akin with you?”

No, it absolutely would not!

Desert fennec hybrids are different from the forest ones - and it’s not even the case of your green and their sandy brown fur or their more brutal physique against your more delicate one. It’s their character and world perception. You’ll never call them barbarians, but they really developed more of the animal nature than your kind did.

And from day one it was a pain in the butt.

One of your five new bodyguards was clearly the leader - he was bigger and broodier, with more scars littering his body, and his whole stance was screaming of a higher position. When you were introduced for the first time, something lit up in his grayish eyes, which were looking you over appreciatively. You ignored that, more focused on the discussion of the upcoming expedition and making sure the five were aware of what was required of them.

Luckily they were, and, admittedly, they did fulfill their task meticulously, proving to be great help. If only one of them wasn’t so diligent.

You lost count of how many times the leader tried to get into your personal space and you had to move away. Of the numerous invitations to hunt together. Of the endless displays of his strength and abilities. Of the many conversations you didn’t even try to eavesdrop on (they talked pretty loudly) around the topic of when will your shell be cracked and you’d accept the male’s courting attempts.

The answer was obvious, but he just never got it. Even when you called him for a serious conversation on the turning-into-an-issue matter.

“With all respect I must ask you to stop with whatever you’ve been doing to woo me. I have a husband.”

You still remember how he blinked at you dumbly, clear lack of understanding written on the sun-kissed face.

“...and?”

“The heck do you mean ‘and’?”

“Well, you don’t have a mate?”

It was your turn to stare at him speechless, ear twitching and tail curling closer to your legs. It was getting worse than just ridiculous.

“If we are speaking in such terms, then my husband is my mate. So, please-”

You nearly gasped when the male immediately leant closely, violating your personal space and practically stuffing his nose against your neck. Shocked by such lack of shame, you lost the ability to talk or move for a moment, gaping at him sniffing around and humming upon the discovery.

“You don’t wear anyone’s smell on you.”

You were not proud of yourself at that moment, but you absolutely lost it. Sharpened claws dug into his chest and with an angry snarl you pushed him back.

“Get away from me!”

You must’ve been a sight - canines bared and fingers twitching, ready to attack; fur standing on both your ears and tail, signaling your distress and eyes slitted in pure rage while directed at the man in front of you. The worst part? The idiot seemed to like it even more.

“What me and my partner do must be of no concern to you. I told you ‘no’ and I mean it.”

But bold of you was to assume he’d stop. Oh no, it’s gotten worse. Now he was actively calling you a ‘forest foxy’, absolutely abandoning your name and even trying to scent you. It was suffocating - the desert aridity was lighter in comparison to the male hybrid’s pheromones.

Never in all your academic practice have you wanted to return home so badly.

Fortunately, your colleagues quickly caught on to what was going on and always helped you to escape the unwanted interactions. Plus they were equally as mad as you were, because his individual scent irritated their human noses - and that was the main reason why you and Tighnari, both spending a lot of time around other people, did not practice it. Partly, you are sure, this whole situation was the reason for your earlier return - and you were grateful for their understanding.

However, your stubborn suitor did not dream of giving up. Killed desert animals were still offered to you, stories of his legendary battles with monsters were told for the hundredth time (even though no one was interested in listening at that point) and attempts to lure you with the musky smell once again made. Archons, and the green-furred fennec girls from your teens used to dream of that.

Maybe Lesser Lord Kusanali would be merciful and you’ll meet your husband somewhere on your way?

“Herbad Y/n!”

…wow, that was quick. Not Tighnari, but incredibly welcome too.

“Collei!” For the first time in days there is a reason for your soft smile. Which the young girl mirrors, waving at you from not so far away. You notice a couple more of the Forest Rangers at her side, and that sight alone makes you finally exhale in relief. You are so close to being home.

“Master is here too! Want me to get him?”

Oh, Dendro Archon, thank you.

“I’d really appreciate it, dear!” With a quick nod the green-haired apprentice disappears in the bushes, and you turn back to the scholars of your group. It’s time to abuse your power a little. “We are almost at the Devadaha Pool. Since all of you live in Sumeru City I hope you’ll excuse me for staying behind. As for you five,” your gaze moves to the bodyguards and it’s so hard not to rejoice - soon they’ll be just a memory, “I ask you to accompany the rest of my team to the Akademiya. Then you can consider your job done and be free. Keep the payment for the last three days that didn’t happen - think of it as a bonus for a good job.”

All but one eagerly nod and bid you farewell with wishes of getting home safely. And frankly speaking? You couldn’t care less for that one when you spot familiar and oh so dear big pointy ears with an intricate golden earring adorning one of them.

“Tighnari!” You didn’t want to sound so desperate, you really didn’t. But when those forest-like lovely eyes look in your direction, it becomes clear to you - the yearning has gotten unbearable.

“Y/n…” His smile is dazzling and the way his body immediately pushes to walk to you almost makes the memories of the last weeks’ events go away.

The key word - almost.

Someone grabs your elbow when you want to meet him halfway. Oh right, you already forgot about him.

“Let me go, you, imbecile!” And again you have to snarl and be rude, ripping your arm out of the strong hold and quickly darting into your husband’s embrace. The natural smell of the leaves, the flowers, the sweet and bitter concoctions he makes in his home laboratory, comfort you and your whole body goes nearly limp in his hold. It’s been weeks and you are tired of fighting with the brick wall - this time you want your lover to handle it for you.

“Y/n, my lotus, are you alright?” Gentle fingers comb through your hair and scratch at the base of your ears - a whole ass adult, that you are, wants to tear up. But you can only shake your head a no. “Has this man been bothering you?” This time it’s a yes. “I got you, dear.”

“So,” the browny green eyes sharpen upon staring at the cause of your current state, when it starts speaking, “you are that ‘husband’ the foxy has been talking about? I thought you’d be stronger. Or at least taller. Now I see that I was right and you really can’t be her mate.”

“Oh but I am. Not that we have to prove anything to a stranger. Y/n,” he carefully pries your face from his shoulder, caressing your cheek with a beanie pad, “let’s go home. You must be so-so tired.”

“I am, ‘nari. I am exhaus-”

“There’s no smell of you on her and vice versa,” the desert descendent of the Valuka Shuna seems to not be planning to stop. “Her neck is not marked. You let her wander by herself for weeks? And you keep calling her by the name. Her name should've stopped mattering once she became your mate!”

The hand around your waist tenses and you can feel the claws threatening to tear through the gloves he always wears. You don’t need to look at the face of your lover to know how pissed he is. And if Tighnari decides to attack him and tear his tongue out? You will not stop him.

“I am going to say it once and only once. She is not just a mate, she is my wife, by the Sumeru law and by the blessing of the Dendro Archon. And this fact must matter to you more than the case of her name. So fuck off and leave my wife alone. And if you don’t get it in a civil way - this woman is taken. And this territory is mine.”

With that, the Forest Watcher effortlessly lifts you in his arms and, holding you as if a precious bride, turns around to leave. You haven’t looked back once.

“You can’t imagine how much I missed being called your wife,” you quietly confess, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Especially after he didn’t listen when I said that I am.”

Tighnari hums sympathetically, leaning close to rub his nose against yours.

“Will it be okay then if today I address you as my wife only? When we join the other rangers, I mean.”

”...if you think I will be embarrassed - make it a whole week.”

With a soft chuckle your husband plants a kiss on your lips, sealing the deal and promising you tranquil days at last.

“As you wish, wife.”

Zhongli

"...and so Rex Lapis takes the form of a dragon, a majestic creature he was born as - the one of whom the fair maiden would never be scared of. Lady Guizhong's robes flutter in the tender wind traveling among the mountain peaks and caressing the earthly scales of the God's enormous body. His eyes, shiny as gold, gaze at her with an unfamiliar softness as she holds a gentle flower - a delicate gift from her lover, the one that proves that under all that armor is a stone heart capable of love. Heart that is beating for her."

To loud applause the Iron Tongue Tian bows his head, drawing the legend of the gods in love to its end. You cannot bring yourself to clap even politely, both hands on your lap, hidden under the table, twitching when a man beside you lets his gloved palms meet each other a couple of times.

It’s the second time you had to sit and endure the baloney from the very beginning to the very end, not to count all those times you overheard it in passing. From the moment you settled in the Liyue Harbor together with your husband, to live the rest of your incredibly long lives together among the humans, you've been painfully aware of their interpretation of Rex Lapis and his relationship with other immortal beings. Before that you rarely accompanied him during the walks, busy with helping Yakshas and other adepti protect the said humans to grant them a peaceful life - as immortal guardians grew fewer, every single one counted.

Never have you ever imagined that knowing so little of the citizens’ folklore would backfire so hard. It seems that people got somewhat bored listening to the stories of Liyue and Rex Lapis, no matter how many interpretations existed. Literature became more diverse in genres and romantic novels were on top of the list, so street narrators started losing their audience little by little. Before it could grow into something more drastic the new side of history was presented to the public - stories about love among immortals appeared and its freshness and uniqueness caught people’s attention immediately.

In their searches for new material, speakers dug through hundreds of volumes. The main interest was the Lord of Geo, of course. If you have a story of a presumably stone-hearted creature ever having fallen in love with someone - that’s pure gold! But who could you present as a love interest of the Archon? It must be someone very close to him and, obviously, no one is more well-known for that than the deceased Archon of Dust.

You sigh, reaching for your cup and declining Madam Ping’s offer to pour you some more tea - for an unclear reason the fellow adeptus joined you two tonight. You have thousands of years of life behind your existence, a soul hardened by constant battles, and mannerism as polished as a jade statue, yet for a moment you feel concerned that the woman would notice a pang of hurt in the smallest of your features.

Zhongli definitely noticed the first time. It was meant to be a date night - simple, but sweet, with the evening lights, delightful aroma of the finest tea and the tales pouring from skilled tongues reflecting the atmosphere of what your nation really is. However, the luck of the land of trades wasn’t on your side, as someone requested the “Guili legend” as they called it. At first you were confused. Then in disbelief, almost turning to look at your mate, with whom you were bonded long before he became allies with the ash-haired woman. In the end you felt something you thought was beyond you - bitterness.

When you left the restaurant, slowly walking back to your house, Zhongli’s fingers gently touched your elbow, asking for your attention.

“Does it bother you that much, my love?”

Bother you? Well… It does feel insulting when someone speaks of your husband having been in love with someone else, but mortals can’t possibly know the truth for many reasons.

“I can’t say it doesn’t,” you admitted calmly, stopping and turning fully to him. He did the same, gazing at you with a hint of worry in those golden eyes you loved so much. The ones, you knew, always looked only at you. “But it can’t be helped, right? There was a reason and mutual agreement why you, as Rex Lapis, made our union unknown to your people, and now, since you are “dead”? There is no one to tell our story. Don’t worry though,” you put a hand on top of his and smiled, when his other one was laid on top of yours in a gesture of comfort. “I can deal with it. I know you love going to the storyteller’s performances. I’ll just try to ignore what they say about you and Lady Guizhong.”

Sometimes Zhongli thinks he does not deserve you. Ever so patient and understanding, you always had your husband's best interest at heart. Marriage, however, in its basis is a form of a contract, and a good contract is all about both sides being equal in everything. And if you must know one thing about Rex Lapis - he never makes bad contracts.

When the audience calms down, the man decides to make his presence and intentions clear by raising a hand. From the corner of his eye he notices you slightly turning your head to glance at him, and he catches a glimpse of puzzlement in your gaze. He can't help but think how adorable you are, even if you deny it again and again, claiming that nothing can be adorable about a several millennia-old warrior. Maybe not, but his wife definitely is, and he thinks with a primordial pride igniting in his chest, that mating with you was the best decision his past self had ever made.

Reaching under the table he rests his free hand on top of yours, gently squeezing it in reassurance, offering you the warmth of himself, seeping through his glove. Just as your shoulders relax to his delight, the raised hand adorned with rings is finally noticed.

"Ah, Mr Zhongli! Such an honor to see a regular, especially someone as wise as yourself!" Iron Tongue Tian beams with a wide smile, closing his fan and focusing his full attention on the history connoisseur. "I doubt you have questions, given your vast knowledge, and I can't wait to hear what else you can add to this already heart-felt story."

You force your lips not to twitch, hiding behind the tea cup again. Suddenly it tastes bitter. But another squeeze your husband gives your hand doesn't let you dwell on it too much.

"You are correct, I do have some knowledge to offer. However, it might disappoint you, as it will completely destroy the story of the Geo Archon and the Archon of Dust."

The whispers ran through the crowd like a powerful wave, and you can see confusion written over every single face. But also, there is intrigue.

"I took it upon myself,” Zhongli however continues, “to invite Madame Ping to back up my story, as she was the witness to it," the elder woman - a well-known Adeptus that doesn't hide her existence among mortals - nods with a soft smile.

"I read this in legends a long time ago, but remembered only when the 'Guili legend' became popular. Rex Lapis indeed had a lover, however it was not Lady Guizhong," the gasps are almost deafening. Just as your quickened heartbeat.

And for the next hour the man by your side and the elderly-looking woman that joined you tonight proceed to tell the story of the adeptus, who was the first and only to ever bring the Geo Archon to his knees, to be worshiped like a goddess by his eyes, by his words, by his very heart. Of a warrior, whose fierce eyes and valiant nature made a dragon in Rex Lapis roar in delight. Of the woman, who entranced him with her beauty, caring soul and motherly attention directed to other adepti - Madame Ping adds with a laugh of how the two created a parent-like dynamic even before they became official (at that you find it so hard not to turn bashful).

They tell the legend of the silk flowers - the ones you might see everywhere in the vast lands of Liyue. How the Geo Archon personally asked the Dendro Archon for guidance to cultivate the tenderest of flowers, how he taught his people to make the delicate fabric out of it, but even then it couldn’t compare to the skin of his immortal mate.

They tell stories of how annoyed she was when the god turned into a dragon to fall asleep somewhere in the depths of the earth for years without telling her prior, and how he returned with the purest stones and metals and with his own hands forged the pair of matrimonial rings (yes, the ones wrapped around your fingers to this day).

Madame Ping fondly speaks of all those thousands of years of protection the said adeptus spent to make sure that her godly spouse’s people were safe and maybe just a tiny sliver of pride rushes through your heart at the public acknowledgement.

“But she wished not to be known,” the woman sighs and you know she glances at you reproachfully. Well-deserved, given the circumstances you are in right now. “Thus it’s not much of a surprise people made a mistake like that. Besides, you won’t find much information in written sources about her either way.”

“But she must have a name at least!” Someone from the fairly grown crowd exclaims.

“That she does,” Zhongli nods, lacing his fingers with yours under the table, lips tugging in a calm smile, when you squeeze his hand in return. “Though I am afraid it would be pointless to try and find out now - we wouldn’t want to disturb her mourning the departure of her husband, would we? After all, they must’ve loved each other so much.”

“But how can you be so sure?”

“Because,” golden eyes are on you, catching yours, pulling you in, whispering for your soul and heart to get lost in them, “I can understand how this love was born and got to bloom. My wife showed me that.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #il capitano x reader #capitano x reader #capitano x fem!reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x fem!reader #tighnari x reader #tighnari x fem!reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x fem!reader #il capitano #capitano #kaveh #tighnari #zhongli #genshin impact fluff

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david-talks-sw · 9 months

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Debunking more myths in the GFFA: the Jedi and the clones.

I wrote a post debunking the various myths about how "the Jedi condone slavery", a while ago. Something I had omitted (because it's such a big topic) was the following two statements that concern the clone troopers' relations with the Jedi:

"The clones were genetically bred to have accelerated growth, so they're technically child soldiers."

"The clones were slaves of the Jedi."

Both the above statements are inaccurate, let's explore why.

"The clones were child soldiers"

Let's get the easy one out of the way first, because it's a logic that cuts both ways. If age is our only determination of the maturity of a Star Wars character, then Grogu is not a baby. He is aged 50, and is thus a middle-aged man.

Who cruelly eats the babies of a woman...

... and knowingly tortures animals for his own sadistic pleasure.

Of course, I'm kidding. Grogu's none of the above things.

The narrative frames him as a cute baby who does innocent baby stuff. Him eating the eggs is played off as comedic, as is him lifting with the frog. To this day, some fans still call him "Baby Yoda".

Conversely, despite the clones being 10/14-years-old, their actions, behaviors, way of thinking, sense of humor, morals etc, are all those of an adult.

Like, Ahsoka is technically older than Rex in this scene.

The scene doesn't portray them as peers, though. This isn't written as "a teen and a tween talking". No, Rex looks, acts and behaves like a grown-up and is thus framed as such by the narrative.

You can make the argument "they're child soldiers", but (unless you're doing so in bad faith) you'd also have to argue that "Grogu's an adult".

"The clones were the Jedi's slaves"

Nope. For all intents and purposes, they're in the same boat as the Jedi, who George Lucas stated multiple times had been drafted to fight in the war.

Again: both the Jedi (monk/diplomats untrained for fighting on a battlefield) and clones (literally bred en masse only to fight) are being forced to fight by Palpatine and the Senate.

Though, on paper, the clones were commissioned by Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas, it was actually done by the Sith (who either manipulated or assassinated Sifo-Dyas then stole his identity, depending on the continuity you choose to adhere to). The rest of the Jedi had no idea these clones were being created.

So while the clones are slaves... they're not owned by the Jedi.

They're the army of the Republic, they belong to the Senate. This isn't exactly a scoop, they refer to the clones as something to purchase...

... and manufacture.

As far as the Senate’s concerned, clones are property, like droids.

Like there's a whole subplot in The Bad Batch about this very point: after the war, the clones are decommissioned and left out to dry because they literally have no rights, they served their purpose.

The only trooper to ever canonically blame the Jedi for the clones' enslavement is Slick, who the narrative frames as having been bribed and manipulated by Asajj Ventress into betraying his comrades.

Also, the only canonical Jedi shown to ever be mean, dismissive or mistreating the clones in any way, is Pong Krell.

And it's eventually revealed he’s in fact a full-on traitor, hence why the story frames him as an antagonistic dick from the moment he's introduced. He doesn’t represent the Jedi in any way.

We know this because the other Jedi we’ve been shown are always prioritizing their clones’ lives over theirs, if given the chance.

Finally, if we wanna get even more specific... as Commander-in-Chief of the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR), the clones belong to Palpatine.

Palpatine who is a Sith Lord.

Palpatine who arranged for the creation of the clones and had them all injected with a chip that would activate upon hearing a code-word...

... and forced them to murder their Jedi without hesitation or remorse.

When you bear all that ⬆️ in mind and when you read this quote by George Lucas...

"The Jedi won't lead droids. Their whole basis is connecting with the life force. They'd just say, 'That's not the way we operate. We don't function with non-life-forms.” So if there is to be a Republic army, it would have to be an army of humans." - The Star Wars Archives: 1999-2005, 2020

... narratively-speaking, everything falls into place.

Sidious knows that:

If he orchestrates a war designed to thin the Jedi's numbers, corrupt their values and plunge the galaxy into chaos...

If he wants to draft the Jedi - peace-keeping diplomats who’d never willingly join the fray - to fight in his war...

... then the only way they won't resist the draft and abstain from fighting is if they think joining the conflict will save lives.

So he creates a set of cruel, sadistic villains for them to face, opponents who will target innocent civilians at every turn...

... and instead of lifeless droids, he prepares for the Jedi an army of men... living, mortal people who, despite being well-trained, will be completely out of their league when facing the likes of Dooku...

... Ventress...

... Grievous...

... Savage Opress...

... or the defoliator, a tank that annihilates organic matter.

Thus, in order to save as many clone and civilian lives, the Jedi join the fray despite knowing that doing so will corrupt their values.

And as the war rages on, a bond of respect is formed between the two groups.

Clearly, the Jedi don't like the fact that the Republic is using the clones to fight a war, but for that matter, they don't like being in a war, in fact they advocated against it.

However, it's happening regardless of their issues with the idea or personal philosophies. Said The Clone Wars writer Henry Gilroy:

"I’d rather not get into the Jedi’s philosophical issues about an army of living beings created to fight, but the Jedi are in a tough spot themselves, being peacekeepers turned warriors trying to save the Republic."

And bear in mind, the Jedi are basically space psychics, the clones are living beings that they can individually feel in the Force...

... so the Jedi feel every death but need to move on, regardless, only being able to mourn the troopers at the end of every battle.

We see this in the Legends continuity too, by the way.

(that is, when the writers actually try to engage with the narrative)

Also, if you ask the clones, they’re grateful the Jedi have their backs.

When Depa Billaba voices her concerns about how the war is impacting the Jedi's principles, troopers Grey and Styles are quick to make it clear how grateful they all are for the Jedi's involvement:

So the clones aren't the Jedi's slaves. If anything, they're both slaves of the Republic (considering how low the Jedi's status actually is in the hierarchy).

Only I'd argue the clones have it much, much worse.

The Senate sees the Jedi as "ugh, the holier-than-thou space-monk lapdogs who work for us"... but a Jedi has the option to give up that responsibility. They can leave the Order, no fuss or stigma.

A clone trooper cannot leave the GAR! If they do, they’re marked for treason and execution. Again, they’re not perceived as “people”.

And it doesn’t help that the Kaminoans, the clones’ very creators, see the troopers as products/units/merchandise. A notion that the Jedi are quick to correct whenever they get the chance.

How The Clone Wars writers describe the clones' relationship with the Jedi.

George Lucas hasn’t spoken much about this subject aside from the quote from further up. But to be fair... the Prequels aren’t about the clones’ dynamic with the Jedi, so it makes sense that he wouldn’t talk on that subject so much.

He did mention that part of The Clone Wars’ perks is that he could:

“Do stories about some of the individual clones and get to know them.”

But that’s as far as it gets.

So for this part, I'm just gonna let Dave Filoni, showrunner of The Clone Wars and the upcoming series Ahsoka, and TCW writer Henry Gilroy - both of whom worked closely with Lucas - take the wheel. They make themselves pretty clear on how the clone/Jedi dynamic is meant to be viewed.

Here’s Henry Gilroy:

"In my mind, the Jedi see the clones as individuals, living beings that have the same right to life as any other being, but understand that they have a job to do."

"The clones see the Jedi as their commanding officers on one hand, but also, at least subconsciously, they look to them for clues to social/moral behavior."

"Some clones may find themselves getting philosophical leadership from the Jedi that helps them answer some of the deeper questions of life."

"We thought this was a great opportunity to show how the Jedi interact with clones. Specifically, Yoda in a teaching role of the clones, who were socially new, who kind of grew up— who were created to fight, and he really broadened their horizons and helped them realize there was a great big universe out there that was bigger than just fighting and killing."

And here’s Dave Filoni’s comments:

"I truly believe that the Jedi try to humanize their clones and make them more individual, as Henry says."

"I think we saw that in Revenge of the Sith, when the Clones were colorful and named under the Jedi Generals, and then in the final shots of the film with Palpatine and Vader near the new Death Star, the ships are grey, the color and life is sucked out. The Stormtroopers are only numbers and identified by black and white armor or uniforms in A New Hope."

"The soldiers have become disposable to the Emperor."

"That is something the Jedi would never do."

"Yoda teaching the clones much like he taught Luke. ‘Cause that was kind of natural for [the Jedi], a natural instinct to take to these clones like they’re students."

None of the above quotes from two different writers of The Clone Wars, who had many interactions with George Lucas, frame the Jedi and the clones’ relationship in a negative way.

How much more proof do we need that "the clones were slaves of the Jedi” isn’t the intended narrative?

My point being that while the clones' ordeal is indeed horrible, the Jedi have nothing to do with it. The narrative of The Clone Wars always frames it as the fault of the Sith, the Senate and the Kaminoans.

If you go by the intended narrative, the Jedi were the clones' teachers and brothers-in-arms. The clones and the Jedi were not just comrades.

They were friends.

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internetskiff · 2 months

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Something about Gordon Freeman that's extremely fascinating is how he was basically forced into the "Messiah" role by complete accident. Dude was on his way to work, caught in an extremely awful lab accident, and he was just fighting for his life so brutally that he ended up taking down an entire army, making the other less capable or equipped scientists assign him as the one that would go in and take down the Nihilanth - I mean, they basically didn't have many other options, or at least not many better options at their disposal. The whole time he basically doesn't have much of a say in any of it, which means he was practically railroaded into becoming the G-Man's employee by pure circumstance.

Doesn't get any better in Half Life 2 either - the surviving Black Mesa staff have turned this man they potentially sent to die into a legend amongst the resistance movement. The Vortigaunts chant his name as they draw murals on the canal walls. The Lambda - a symbol of both the Lambda Labs but most notably the symbol on the HEV suit - now symbolizes liberation. Therefore, of course, the man who bears this symbol is the liberator. By the ending chapters of Half Life 2, Freeman commands entire squads of rebels, appointed the leader regardless of how good a tactician he actually is - if they die, they died for him, not because of him. As long as he gets to the Citadel and breaches it's wall, all those deaths would be worth it - once again, others send him into a near-inhospitable environment to take down a near-invincible threat.

I think that despite us being in control of Freeman for most of the series, the real protagonists of the story are the Vance family. Eli, too, was right at ground zero when the Resonance Cascade occurred. He is the leader of the Resistance. It's very possible that he's the one who spread word of Freeman throughout City 17. The fall of Nova Prospekt AND the Citadel occurred as a result of Eli's capture. In the Combine's eyes, the Vances are a threat equal to, if not greater than Freeman himself. That, and the Vances have something Freeman doesn't - agency. They're beyond the G-Man's control. They're beyond the Combine's control. Their actions are completely their own, with no third party to control every single step they take. Over the course of the Episodes, it feels as though the dynamic shifts, with Alyx becoming a much more vital figure. The Combine are specifically after her now, because she carries the code capable of disrupting the portal through which the Combine could send reinforcements and finally consume Earth. In both the Epistle 3 script and in Half Life Alyx it ends with her basically taking Freeman's position under the G-Man's employ. She quite literally takes the role of the Main Character away from Gordon. This, of course, is nothing to envy, because it's been repeatedly shown that any character assuming this role in the series ends up being reduced to nothing but a pawn for those who control them. It's an extremely fascinating spin on the linear nature of the games, canonically acknowledging you're doing nothing but marching along a path someone else made for you. Despite being the one free man, you're not offered much of a choice.

#hl #hl2 #hl 2 #half life #half life 2 #gordon freeman #alyx vance #eli vance #the combine #g man #gman #the gman #rambling #had thoughts on this for a while but only recently managed to formulate them

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scarletttries · 12 days

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When Fallout Characters Fall In Love... (Fallout Show Request)

Pairings: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Reader, Maximus x Reader, Norm x Reader

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has sent in a request for the Fallout show, please keep them coming as this is definitely the show that I'm thinking about the most at the moment! Also let me know if you want a part two of these headcanons or something similar :)

The Ghoul:

- Cooper Howard couldn't put his finger on exactly when he had accepted that the life he now led would be one devoid of love, but it was a hollow feeling he carried in his chest wherever the wasteland took him. Maybe it was in the decades he'd spent wandering and gaining a reputation as a heartless cowboy without an ounce of mercy. Or the fact that he hadn't met anyone that had stirred up a single emotion inside him, fearing the aching betrayal of his wife would haunt him even as lifetimes passed. Maybe it came to him in the way he flinched each time he caught his reflection in the few unbroken windows he passed, flesh slowly forming caverns and creases where once there were only the faintest of lines that showed endless signs of life. The wasteland was no place for love. That's what he had decided.

- But even in the fall of civilization there's room for a surprise, and you were certainly one of those..

- He heard rumour of you before your bounty crossed his desk, a runaway scientist from a mysterious body known only as The Institute, a target to everyone for the sheer volume of classified knowledge you might possess.

- A life on the run was no easy one, and Cooper knew that better than anyone, so it didn't take long for him to track you down to a small town just on the outskirts of the radiation's no man's land. His gun was cocked as he strutted towards the half open door of the rundown house he'd narrowed your location down to, glancing at the poster in his hand one last time before he burst inside. Even from the poorly illustrated version of you, he could see your eyes were kind, almost hopeful, like you still believed science could make right what had gone so wrong in the last 200 years. He almost felt a tinge of guilt as he steeled himself for a fight, saying a silent prayer that you wouldn't be behind the walls in front of him.

- Stepping in carefully he expected traps, or an army of robots to jump to arms, but instead he found you travelling alone, a small satchel of papers clutched in your arms as you stared him down with a calm resolve that caught him more off guard than any weapon.

"Do you still believe there's hope for this world Mr Howard?" Your voice was soft, not the trembling fear he was so used to hearing. You stared up at him without a trace of disgust in your expression, your eyes locked on his as he considered your question, and then lowered his weapon.

"And what if I do?" His heart ached at the question, so hardened by years of cynicism that even the idea of hope and goodness were almost too heavy to bear. He felt more human than he had in years as you slowly inched towards him, the creaking floorboards beneath you cutting through a tense silence that had The Ghoul feeling like he was back on a movie set, everything so perfectly orchestrated to have his stomach in knots. And then you extended your hand to him and gave him the most genuine smile he could remember receiving in this whole sorry chapter of his after-life,

"Then I think we could really make a difference. Together." Your pip-boy screeched as his irradiated hand stretched out to reach yours, but you didn't flinch, gently squeezing the twisted flesh as you shook on what you bought felt in the depths of your souls was going to be a meaningful partnership.

- It would be a straight forward life trying to use your research to get the world back on track for there to be joy and peace again. But with The Ghoul by your side you can expect; a personal bodyguard who cares more about your safety than his own by far, a gleaming look of pride in his eyes any time you tell him which Cooper Howard film was your favourite, the slow and steady acceptance that he is still worthy of love even in his new twisted form, and Cooper being endlessly grateful that you are the person who wants to give that love to him.

Maximus:

- All Maximus had ever wanted was to be a knight of the Brotherhood. He wakes up every morning and does his best every day just to try and earn his spot in this family of welded metal and unflinching loyalty. It wasn't until you arrived on the base that he started to realise there were other ways he might form a family.

- A nearby village had been half destroyed by raiders until the Brotherhood stepped in, clearing out the violent scavengers and bringing anyone with skills they could utilise back to base for assessment. Maximus was sitting alone, nursing the most recent wounds inflicted by his so-called brothers when he watched you march in alongside two soldiers, the final evacuee of your faded community, a distance in your eyes that he felt akin with from his own home's destruction. You could feel his eyes on you before you spotted him, a rag damp with blood pressed to his nose as he sat huddled against a corrugated iron shack.

- Despite the sheer joylessness of the situation, Max couldn't stop himself from sporting a smile, waving at you like you had locked eyes across the schoolyard not some barren military base. Whatever he hoped for in that moment seemed to pay off as you waved back, a small laugh escaping your lips at the absurdity of his blood soaked grin. He watched as the knights around you escorted you to the medical tent for a check up, waiting until they left their guard posts beside you to sneak behind the off-white fabric, following some unknown instinct he'd never felt call to him before. You bolted upright where you perched on one of the medical beds as he appeared, visibly relaxing when you recognised him from outside and once again waving in his direction. His mouth worked faster than his brain in that moment, heart hammering in his chest as the words gushed out with his new found affections,

"I used to live in Shady Sands. I know what it's like to have your home destroyed, your family hurt, everything changing all at once. But you're safe here with the Brotherhood, and even if it doesn't feel like it today, things are going to be okay eventually. Also I'm Maximus and if you ever need to talk to someone, I'm, like, around all the time, and no one else really wants to talk to me so I'm probably going to be available... " He trailed off as he tried to recover what had ended up a far more embarrassing sentence than he'd hoped, his lungs burning as he realised he'd forgotten to take a breath through his whole winding spiel. But when you smiled at him any shame seemed to float away, and as you patted the bed and nodded for him to take a seat beside you, the once lonely squire suddenly felt much closer to finding a family than he had surrounded by his brothers.

- As you settle into life on the base, you and Maximus only grow closer. Expect; late nights of sneaking out of your dorm so you and Max can stare up the stars and plot your escape from this life, fantasising about what a life beyond these walls and this world could be like for the two of you, someone who has your back no matter how bad things get and how low you feel, and truly some of the most god awful flirting you will ever hear.

Norm:

- Growing up in the Vault, Norm had always been told the value of belonging to a community, and how everyone in the vault was just a big happy family. But none of that stopped Norm feeling like an outsider, like he didn't quite operate on the same wavelength as the rest of the cheerful strangers he shared his deep underground walls with. After a few of the annual exchanges between vaults, he had all but given up on hoping to meet anyone he felt he could actually feel close to.

- When his overseer father had finally decided it was his turn to continue the vault's legacy and be part of what Norm considered an archaic tradition of arranged marriages between the linked vaults, Norm couldn't have been more resistant. He pleaded for the council to reject his nomination, begging them not to force some young hopeful to be subjected to his notable lack of enthusiasm for the rest of their life in this dutiful swap, but with limited options of eligible young men, he soon found himself staring down the doors of your vault. The suit previously used by his fellow bachelors had been tailored to within an inch of its life to try and fit his slight frame, the shoulders still feeling like they hung off him, threatening to swallow him up along with ground as he watched the round door slowly start to roll open.

- He thought this whole thing was stupid and outdated, and he knew there was no way he could actually find someone to love and love him in return behind those doors, so why was his stomach so full of butterflies as slowly your face started to appear in the artificial light of Vault 33. He waited to see you throw him a false smile, going through the motions as much as he had planned to, or even a look of disappointment that he was not the man you had been picturing as the door crept open. Instead he really thought he saw sincerity in your eyes, a thoughtful understanding as he choked out his name, his stammering not going unnoticed by his sister who quietly chuckled behind him.

"It's really nice to meet you, Norm." You spoke each word with intention, like it wasn't just a rehearsed greeting but an honest confession that sent sparks flying in the air between you.

- Suddenly the pressure of matrimony didn't feel so all consuming. And maybe this system was more advanced than he had appreciated. And there might be a small chance that he wasn't destined to spend his life feeling like he was on the outside, that he might finally have someone that could take him as he is, darkness and light, for better or for worse.

- Whether you stay in the vaults, or make your move to the surface world, with Norm by your side you can expect: Sarcastic comments muttered under his breath at inopportune moments just to see the way you fail to contain your laughter, being the sounding board for all of each other's thoughts and feelings no matter how serious or silly they might be, Norm clinging to your side through everything knowing that he only feels himself when he's stood in your light, and being the one person Norm would do absolutely anything for, bringing out the bravery and intelligence that was always just below the surface of this sweet man.

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overthinkinglotr · 8 months

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People always say “Thorin could never retire in the Shire because he has to be King” — and I think the funniest way to handle that plotline would be for Bilbo to convince Thorin to eliminate the monarchy.

Bilbo has lived all his life in the Shire, where they elect their main leaders in a democratic system. Thorin is the first king he ever meets. Bilbo would initially think monarchy was very storybook-like and fantastical, like the things he’s read about in tales from distant lands…..but he would quickly find the reality of monarchy underwhelming, baffling, and annoying. Thorin/ Thranduil/Bard would make Bilbo decide that all monarchies are terrible. Being a king makes you self-important, haughty, greedy, and warlike. Kings are too powerful and use that power to fight over utter nonsense. They’ve got no one to keep their stubbornness in check. He would come to decide that the Shire really did have it right by holding elections.

I’m imagining a scene where Thorin dramatically confesses “I suffer under the burden of my duties; heavy is the head that bears a crown” and Bilbo flatly responds “don’t be king, then. >:/Elect someone else. If your people don’t want you then they won’t choose you! Im very tired of this whole affair and I wish I were back in the Shire, where folk are more reasonable >:(“

Thorin is enchanted by the strange foreign Hobbit custom of “elected leaders.” He has never considered this as a possibility. Overwhelmed by the Hobbit’s wisdom after the Battle of the Five Armies, Thorin converts his kingdom into a democratic republic and retires from public life.

This causes a domino effect. Other kingdoms across Middle Earth are inspired by Erebor’s example, and band together to reject their monarchical systems. Revolutions ensue.

Thorin’s consort “Bilbo Baggins,” known only as “the dwarf-king’s advisor who first set off this wave of revolutions,” becomes one of the most controversial and reviled people in all of Middle Earth. Bilbo becomes a figure of mythic proportions, loved by the democratic republicans and despised by the royalists, each of which invents their own wild legends.

To the democratic republicans “The Great Baggins” is glorified as a great warrior sent from Valinor to restore the long-forgotten wisdom borne out of The West— he snaps his fingers and with a poof of smoke he washes away all the old corrupt systems of the world, just as the Valar washed away Numenor.

But to the royalists, “The Mad Baggins” is a scheming shadowy monster who crawled up from the deep places of the world to burn the very foundations of Middle Earth to the ground; he’s a monster more powerful and terrible than a dragon or a balrog, who threatened Thorin into submission and brought the world into chaos. he snaps his fingers and monarchies collapse in a puff of smoke.

Meanwhile elderly Bilbo grumpily putters around the Shire with Thorin, mostly oblivious to all of this.

#and that’s my reshirement au. like comment and subscribe #read my webcomic adaptation of the hobbit *dabs*#lotr #the hobbit #Bagginshield #lord of the rings #I would write this fic but I’m already making high effort hobbit fanfic #don’t know if I have the energy for another one XD

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hidden-poet · 2 months

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Commander Snow; chapter 6

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit, violence, death.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Being Commander of District 12 meant that Coriolanus couldn’t just whisk you away to the forest to face his fears. He had a whole army dependent on him. It meant that while you were held up in his apartment, he was held up in his office.

It annoyed him to no end. To have you so close and yet still out of reach.

Despite you living with him for a week, you’ve only shared one meal together.

His overtime meant that you were asleep by the time he got home.

You had left a clean pair of his pajamas on the end of the bed. He had a habit of just stripping down to his underwear to join you.

You left dinner for him in the fridge and he sat at the dinner table eating it alone.

On the odd occasion, there was time to spend together, the mood was often tense from Coriolanus stress.

He tried not to take his frustration out on you but his answers were often short.

After a long day filled with complaints and issues that could have been easily solved without him, Coriolanus decided that he would not return to his office after supervising drill training and instead remain with you.

He was beyond tired from his day, but it was too early to suggest bed. You lay with him on the couch, propped up by a throw pillow against the arm of the couch while he lay in front of you. He threw your arm around his shoulder and held it tight under his chin.

The TV played a music talent show that neither you nor Coriolanus could care about but the tv only picked up two channels; the news or the entertainment channel that the Hunger Games were shown on. Coriolanus couldn’t bear to hear any more politics for the day so you watched people dressed in irregular costumes perform ballads out of their range.

His eyes droop as he fights the upcoming sleep. It was the first time since the fight with Edmund that he got you to sit down. The little he was here you spent avoiding him. For the first few days, he was angry too and avoidance stopped the fight he wanted to have with you.

But a week had passed and his temper cooled.

You were with him now. Playing housewife to the Commander.

He felt better now that he was coming home to something, rather than just the cold. When he looked in the fridge there was food for him. His clothes were washed and prepared for him. His bed was warm at night. He made him feel less homesick.

The talk from the TV turned from the judges to Lucky the presenter.

“Now ladies and gentlemen. We have a surprise for you tonight. We have a certain special guest gracing us. And we have given him the power to save one of your favorites from elimination! Mr Augustus Bloom won’t you please come out!”

Coriolanus shot up from your hold to watch him.

Augustus Bloom walked on screen wearing an expensive suit. His brown hair was slicked back and a small gold earring dangled from his ear.

The crowd cheered for him.

Coriolanus was stuck in District 12 dealing with half-wits and scum, while Augustus was charming the Capitol on live tv.

He shakes hands with Lucky.

“Mr. Bloom, a privilege to have you here tonight!”

“A privilege to be here amongst you and away from my office.”

Lucky turns to the crowd and laughs.

“Look at you. You good-looking man! You should be out on the town, breaking hearts!”

Augustus laughs along with the crowd.

“I am too busy preparing my business for when I am president of Panem. I’ll worry about women after that.”

Coriolanus clenches his fist.

“Oh,” Lucky turned serious to the crowd, “I think Coriolanus Snow might have something to say about that!”

The crowd murmurs amongst themselves giving Coriolanus an air of confidence.

A picture from his Academy days flashes up on the screen, you look at it with curiosity. He was once a young boy with soft curls, he now sat nearly unrecognizable.

“He’s looking like a strong contender. Isn’t he handsome ladies!” He points out to the crowd, “And some gentleman.”

Augustus had the wind knocked out of his sail. He fidgeted on stage and took a step back almost as if he was going to run away. Dr. Gaul's criticism ran through Coriolanus’ head, “a soft-bellied rich boy, not fit for the presidency.”

Now the whole audience knew it too.

“Snow isn’t here” he gritted through a smile. He wasn’t going down with a fight.

“No. He’s in District 12, keeping us here in the Capitol safe. A round of applause for Commander Snow!”

The crowd cheered causing Coriolanus to smile.

“So am I!” Augustus interrupted like a child.

“Yes, right. I am sure one day you will!” Lucky claps him on the back and returns to the audience with an excited demeanor.

“But of course, that’s a while yet! We are wishing our President Ravenstill all the good health in the world. Now let’s get on with the show!”

Coriolanus switches the TV off and rests his arms on his knees. He couldn’t help but smile at Augustus' national failure. He made Coriolanus look so strong, so mysterious, and focused. He would send Lucky a fruit basket in thanks tomorrow. He would also send one to Augustus.

“You had curls.” The young boyish figure had shocked you.

“Yes,” he pats your knee affectionately, “When we are back in the Capitol and I am president of Panem, I’ll grow them back again.”

==================

Coriolanus has the nightmare that night. He woke up with the tune of ‘Hanging Tree’ stuck in his head. The first thing he does is reach out to where you should have been lying only to find the space cold. Panic rushes through him. His feet thump against the floorboards as he runs from the room into the hall. Your sleeping body can be seen on the couch and he instantly relaxes.

His body tells him he should be angry; fists clenched, shoulders up and tense, his face hot. But he couldn’t manage it. His mind was too hazy to comprehend anything but his own panic.

Instead, he sits down on the floor beside you and tries to control his breathing. The tune hums in the back of his mind and he tries to force it out.

“You had the nightmare again?” Your voice halts the tune. He looks over his shoulder at you with wide eyes. You finally saw the resemblance between the schoolboy with the curls.

He gets up and pushes himself on the couch next to you. You feel his hands slide up your back, trying to hold you close but you wiggle free from his grasp.

You would not comfort the man who kidnapped you.

He tried to bring you back down to his chest as you crawl over him but his tired state left room for error.

You tumble down to the floor as you escape.

He sighs disappointed, bringing his hands up to his face.

“Was there something wrong with the bed?” he asks.

“I prefer the couch.” You sit on the ground next to him.

“You prefer the bed built by Edmund.” He spat his name like it was poison.

You look up at him warily, “I never told you that Edmund built my bed.”

Coriolanus is silent for a minute, he sucks his teeth and sits up.

“You didn’t have to. The wood from your door and bed match.’’

He feels settled as you sit by his feet. The panic subsides, but his anger bubbles up from it.

“Can you make me a cup of tea?” he asks.

With him on your bed, you couldn’t go back to sleep anyway so you rose and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

He watches you while sitting on the couch. He liked how you moved so comfortably in the space. You were treating it like your home. No hesitation about where things were, you used things liberally.

“What do you dream?” You ask him.

“When I wake up it’s gone,” he lies.

You know he carries it around with him.

“Whatever it is, it scares you.”

The kettle whistles and you pour it over the tea bag.

He worried that he now looks weak in front of you. The man who was supposed to be protecting you was scared of a dream like a child. He could continue with his lie but you already knew.

Instead he tries a half-truth.

“I dream that I am killed like my father was.”

This peaked your interest causing him to sit up straighter under your attention.

“How did he die?”.

He takes the cup from you but you don’t scurry away like you usually do. You stand in front of him eager to listen to him. The attention moved his mouth,

“Here. In District 12. A trap out in the forest during the war. He was a governor”.

“Is that why you wanted to come back?”

“I didn’t want to come back” he admits. He reaches up with his spare hand to lightly touch yours, “But I am glad I did.”

“What did you do?” you feel his thumb brush over the back of your hand, “I mean, to get you sent here?”

He takes a sip of his tea before answering, “I had an enemy in the Capitol. He disliked my father and took it out on my family”.

“He sent you back as Commander?”

“No. He died. Gaul sent me back for my presidential run. It looks better to be serving my country.”

You tear your hand from him, “And when they find out you brought me back to the Capitol. How will that look?”

He places the cup on the floor and stands up to your height.

“I’ll keep you safe, okay?” he presses his forehead against yours, “In the district and in the Capitol”.

“Safe from danger you put me in.”

Coriolanus shakes his head as you pull away from him. “You’re safe. You’ve always been safe.”

He tried to pull you close again but you stretched out your arms to keep him at distance.

“I wanna go home, Coriolanus.”

“Home to Edmund, perhaps?” he bites. His calm and soft features harden.

A shiver shoots up your spine at the mention of Edmund.

“Home to my family. The same as you.”

He sighs, “You won’t be alone in the Capitol as you are here. You just have to put up with it just a little bit longer. We’ll be back home soon”

The Capitol was not your home nor would it ever be.

But you knew anymore talk of home would lead to more talk of Edmund.

“Come on. Let’s go back to bed.” You rip your elbow from his grasp as he walks past you.

“I’m fine on the couch.”

He rubs a hand over his mouth before bending down and picking up his tea cup. He splashes the remains on the couch and hands you the empty cup.

“Enjoy it then.”

—————-

The next day he comes home around lunch time. It catches you by surprise.

“Come on,” he says, nodding his head backwards.

You follow him without a word to the van below where officials stood around. Upon seeing him they take their place. You see Smiley by the passenger side door and he calls out for his Commander.

Coriolanus tell Smiley to take the seat and climbs in the tray of the truck.

He pulls you up into the van amongst the Peacekeepers. He sits on the end of the bench with you between his legs on the floor. Like a seatbelt he keeps you in place by taking a hold on your upper arms and pulling them back up on his knees.

You can feel the glances of his officers but they look away as soon as you try to meet their eyes.

Halfway they try to break the tension with idle chatter.

“Will the recruits be as bad as last year?”

“That’s couldn’t be possible.”

The talk soon turns to anecdotes about their youthful days as Peacekeeper grunts.

None of them try to include Coriolanus in their jests. They all willfully ignored the couple on the end.

You don’t try to talk to him either.

As you pass through the district the people look at the Peacekeeper van causing you to turn your head in embarrassment. You could still feel the harsh judgements from your community as you sat between the Commander's legs. How would you ever rebuild your reputation?

The van stops in front of the tunnel to the train station. The people part in the crowd to let the van through.

Coriolanus releases you to unhook the bolts from the backn of the truck. None of the other Peacekeepers move until he does. He jumps down from the bed of the truck and turns back around to help you down. They all wait until you are down and out of the way before they follow.

It’s busy, too busy for a normal docking of fresh recruits. All of the road and tunnel leading to the train station were overrun by bodies.

District people flood the space, all chatting loudly in a panic. They part as the line of Peacekeepers march through.

Normally on orientation day, the newcomers to District 12 were given a wide berth. People had better things to do then get a glimpse of the faces that would soon be terrorizing them.

You wondered what peaked their excitement today. What had Coriolanus done that both you and the district people had to see?

Coriolanus drags you down the dark tunnel into the light of the train station. The talk quitened but didn’t stop altogether.

You screamed upon seeing the commotion.

Edmund.

He was badly beaten and tied to a sturdy metal pole that kept the roof up. A bulls-eye was spray painted an inch above his head.

Blood soaked his face to the point you almost didn’t recognize him.

Large black bruises covered his exposed skin.

You turn to Coriolanus who was already looking at you and beg him to release Edmund.

“Please, Coriolanus. Let him go.”

“He threw the first punch.”

You knew it had less to do with causing Coriolanus physical harm than it did with damaging his ego and need for control. Your neighbors were shown that the Commander bleeds like any other man.

“He learnt his lesson.” you promise.

“Have you learnt yours?”

Only ten young boys disembark from the train. They were all thin with a badly-shaved buzzcut and carrying a Capitol issued duffle bag.

You wanted to run over to Edmund. Protect him somehow. But you couldn’t, it was your protection that got him here in the first place.

“Gentlemen, welcome to District 12.”

Coriolanus stood by your side while another officer went in front of the line of boys.

“This is Edmund Flare,” he gestures to Edmund at the post, “A known rebel sympathizer, and a troubled citizen of District 12.”

Another Peacekeeper runs over and passes the man a gun. You grab Coriolanus' arm in protest.

“More likely than not, you will have to shoot Edmund one day in service of your country. We figured today we would give you the opportunity to save yourself the trouble in the future.”

The first young boy is given the gun.

“You get one shot before you have to wait for that day to naturally come.’’

Edmund holds his head up high to show he is not afraid. But you were. You were terrified. A strong urge to go over and rip the gun out of the young boys hands presented itself but you knew you would be pulled back before you could even stand close enough to touch him,

The boy checks the gun for the trigger, earning a laugh from everyone but you and Coriolanus.

Eventually he finds it, and he takes aim.

The shot misses by a mile.

“Coriolanus please.” He remains emotionless, watching the scene before him. He stood as if it was a street performance, hands clasped behind his back and perfect posture to get a good view.

“Wait! Wait!” you call out but the men continue. Another boy steps up and takes the gun.

He takes less time to examine the gun before firing a shot. Edmund flinches as it wizzes past his shoulder.

‘‘Coriolanus! Stop this. Just please stop, untie hi-”

The next shot is fired causing you to spin around to ensure that Edmund was still standing. He was tall and stupidly proud.

“I’ll never forgive you if one of them hurt him!” you threaten but it doesn’t even earn you a glance.

“Do you love him?”

“No” you answered firmly and fast, “No, Coriolanus. Please stop.”

Another shot is taken.

“Because if you loved him now would be the time to tell me, because I would hate to break apart lovers.”

The third shot lands next to Edmunds boot. You felt physically sick watching the scene. Your legs shook and would soon give way.

The men start to whoop and cheer the young recruits on. It gives the next young boy confidence to take a step closer to take his shot but it misses all the same.

You can’t tear your eyes off Edmund as the next recruit takes aim. They look each other in the eyes. Never spoken a word and already enemies.

The shot is taken but wizzes past Edmunds head.

You shake your head no. You knew telling him that you loved Edmund would sign his death certificate.

“He’s my brother's friend, Coriolanus. We grew up together.”

The next shot hit the pole but not the target, causing you to yelp.

Loud cheering snapped you out of your daze. Begging would get you nowhere.

Instead you take his shoulders into your arms and turn him towards you.

“He looked after me before you. I would have been dead long before you got to me if it wasn’t for him”.

Coriolanus throws his eyes back to Edmund which was not the desired effect.

You change positions, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his attention back down to you.

“I didn’t tell him that you’d taken his role. The other night he was just trying to protect me as you would’ve.”

He finally looks down at you.

“Please, don’t kill him, Coriolanus. I could never forgive myself.” Your voice begins to shake. You were so nervous for Edmunds safety. Your knees buckled and tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

He takes the side of your face into his hands.

“Do you love him?”

You shake your head feverishly, “No, Coriolanus.”

“Do you love him?” You feel his fingers tighten on your face.

“Yes.” you admit.

“Do you love me?”

Through gritted teeth a ‘yes’ resounds.

“More than him?”

A shot whizzed into the crowd as the new recruit lost control of the gun and Coriolanus pulled his body over yours.

The officers scold the boy. Taking the waving gun away. The shot landed into the train station wall but it was a close call for those standing in front of it.

He removes your arms from him and you watch him walk over to the officer holding the gun.

He takes it and aims at Edmund who stood straight and tall.

You shrink as the gun fires. Unable to look, you cover your face with your hands.

The cheering made no impact on your confidence. You couldn’t hear Edmund from their excitement. So you reluctantly open your eyes to see him still standing.

The bullet had made it straight to the middle of the painted target.

Coriolanus stood taking aim still, as if he was still considering firing another shot.

Edmund stared back, almost daring him.

“Commander.” you call. You don’t call him by his name, not in front of people.

Coriolanus lowers the gun but keeps his eyes on Edmund as he speaks,

“Load them up and head back to the compound.” he passes the gun to the closest officer and turns back to where you stood.

“Cut him loose.” he calls back.

When he tosses his arm around you and pulls you back to the truck, you turn back to see Edmund surrounded by Peacekeepers.

People mummer as you walk past but your ears buzzed too loudly to hear a word.

You felt so weak as you walked. You thought you were going to collapse before you could make it to the van. But with Coriolanus’s strong hold on you, you made it back.

He climbs in first and reaches down to pull you up. He sits you on his knee instead of on the ground and you watch as the peacekeepers, old and new, return to the truck.

You don’t even have it in you to feel embarrassed as eyes locked into you.

No one said anything to Coriolanus on the way back.

As soon as the truck opens back in the compound, you are the first to jump out. You hear Coriolanus footsteps as he followed you back to the apartment.

You immediately take a seat at the kitchen table and Coriolanus gets you a cup of water. You stare at it in front of you.

“Edmund died today, as far as you are concerned.”

Closing your eyes to the image of him, you nod your head.

He could hear Coriolanus moving around the apartment but you couldn’t care what he was doing.

When he slams something down in front of you, you open your eyes to see a piece of paper and a pen.

“I want you to write to your brother and tell him about us.”

You couldn’t. Your brother was hot headed, and powerless. He would cause only problems for himself trying to get back.

“What would be the point? He is over in District 8.”

“My family are in the Capitol, yet they know about you.”

Shock strikes you knowing that his family knew of Coriolanus’s actions.

“Write to him,” he pushes, “tell him that we are together. How you feel.”

You pen a half-hearted letter about how you met a man. Coriolanus, you called him, Not Commander Snow. You tell him how you miss him, and that your mother is okay. That Coriolanus is ensuring that your basic needs are met. Don’t worry, you tell him, you’re perfectly safe.

Coriolanus reads it after you are done before folding it and placing it in his pocket.

He slides another piece of paper over in front of you.

“Now write to Tigris and my grandmother. Tigris suggested it would make you feel better, already knowing someone in the Capitol.”

You pick up the pen and write again, but your mind remains on the image of Edmund being used as target practice. You make yourself a promise that you would never meet his cousin or his grandmother. Their letters are as close as they will get before you could escape.

—------

Coriolanus amped up his work schedule even more. Eager to break free from his responsibilities and solve the mystery of Lucy Gray.

You were left alone at night which was preferable to his company but you felt yourself going crazy with only your own company.

You tried to keep a routine to fill the day. It was mostly taken up by cleaning tasks.

After dinner you would wash and dry the dishes, wipe the countertops and table and sweep and mop the floor. Then you would retire to the living room with your sewing or polishing work until it was time for bed.

There is a quiet tapping on the window disturbing you from securing the buttons on Coriolanus’s shirt.

No fear ran through you wondering who it could be. They couldn’t get in to harm you anyway. So you peer out from the window.

“Edmund” you gasp.

His left eye was blackened, a large bruise formed around the bloodshot vessels. A purple bruise marked his cheek and there was a cut on his right eyebrow.

“How did you get in?”

He hold a pair of wire cutters up to the window.

“Are you okay? God I was so worried about you.”

“Ah,” Edmund smiles and replaces the wire cutters with a small knife from his pocket, “Takes more than that.”

“What are you doing?” you hiss. If Coriolanus found him, there was no way Edmund would escape death a second time.

“Getting you out of here.”

“You can’t be here. He’ll be home soon.”

“I know. I’ve been here every night since i’ve been well enough. I told you, you’re not alone.”

“The Peacekeepers-’’

“There’s a fifteen minute window where this section is blind.” The lock wiggles but resists being opened under pressure, “And he just entered the infantry to wish our poor peacekeepers a speedy recovery. We have time.”

The door was determined to chew most of it up, however.

“Edmund, what did he do to you?” his face was swollen from the bruising, and you could see large black and purple spots peeking out from under his shirt.

“The day after he took you, he sent Peacekeepers to my home. They took me back to the compound and showed me some ‘hospitality’”.

“Edmund,I am so sorry,” you begin to cry, “I never should have taken the oat bars to the jail.”

You remembered the day at the market that set off the chain of events.

You remember seeing the man, he stood out amongst the crowd. Dirty, torn clothes. An arm missing, no doubt from the district's mining work. There wasn’t much work for men outside of it.

A sense of pity overwhelmed you, so when he swiped a loaf of bread off the table, you looked the other way. Unfortunately a watchful Peacekeeper did not.

The man's plea echoed through your mind as he was taken away; “Please, I am so hungry.”

It led you to making the oat bars not only for him, but for all the others punished for their hunger.

You remembered a rumor that there was a hole at the west end of the jail for the Peacekeepers to sneak out from, and women of the night to sneak in. You were surprised to find out it was actually true.

“This is not your fault, okay. I am going to get you outta here, and we’ll go to the mountains okay? Where it’s safe. Like planned.”

You nod your head.

The door jingles as Edmund tries to force it open with his knife. It doesn’t bulge.

“Edmund, my mother, is she okay?”

“She’s okay. She’s already up the mountains.”

“How? She could barely walk?”

“I carried her.”

The guilt came crashing down on you. Edmund had his own family to look after. They wouldn’t survive without him.

“Edmund. Stop. I can get the key,” you weren’t sure if you actually could, “You need to go. Just tell me where you cut the hole.”

He stops trying to wedge the door with the knife so you could hear him clearly.

“There’s three big bins out by the back,” he points to the direction, “I cut a hole behind the middle one. It’ll take you to the south forest. I’ll wait there.”

“No,” you interject, “No. Wait for me in the mountains.”

He rolls his eyes and picks up his work of jamming his knife in the door.

“You’ll never make it up the mountain by yourself.”

“At home then! Just stay away from here.”

The plea was for both you and him.

“You can get the key and get out?” He asks in a serious tone, looking at you once more.

“Yes.” you confirm.

He sighs as he pockets his knife, “When?”

The Commander kept his keys by the night stand. You think you could remember which one opened the door.

“Soon.”

“A week. I’ll give you a week before I come back with something stronger.”

You nod your head in agreement.

“Thank you, Edmund.”

“You’re my girl.” he remarks as it was an obvious motivation for his work.

You shiver at his words.

————

You don’t sleep well at night so you have taken to having naps while Coriolanus is at work. He is home more often now. He had got ahead of a considerable amount of work which meant nights were spent together.

Most nights he would take you walking around the compound for fresh air after dinner. You tried to memorize the key he used to unlock the door but there were so many that all looked the same. You wondered how he even knew.

He is anxious now that he found out you were sleeping in the living room and has taken to chaining you together as you slept. He cuffed one of his wrists and one of yours, making sleep impossible as he basically slept on top of you now.

It was only three days after Edmunds promise, that you woke from your nap with the sight of Coriolanus packing your clothes into a bag.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

Was he moving you to your own apartment?

He drops the bag and comes over to sit next to you on the bed.

“Hey,” he greets “You need to get up now. We are going to go away for the weekend.”

You sit up away from him, “Where are we going?”

Vacations were not a thing in District 12.

“The Capitol?” you guessed.

“No, not the Capitol.”

You sigh in relief. Still he had not answered your question.

“Where then?”

He gets up from the bed and zips the bag up.

“Do you not trust me?”

You get up from the bed to see he had laid a dress on the end of the bed for you.

‘‘I just want to know where we are going.”

“You took me to a special place, and now I want to take you somewhere, okay?”

Throwing the duffle bag filled with spare clothes for you and him, over his shoulder he exits the room.

You change and his way out to the living room. There would be no point in fighting. You were going to find out where he was taking you at some point.

The living room was empty, but the door swung wide.

With the door being left open for you, you took the stairs down to where Coriolanus was loading the back of a patrolling truck.

You saw a small cooler of food, one of the old pans, bedding and pillows, a small bag of toiletries and the clothes bag. He had packed in a hurry. The bags were thrown in without care. They were far apart from each other and more items than not were upside down.

“We’re not coming back?” you ask.

“We’ll stay a night or two.” Or however long it takes to find Lucy Gray’s body.

He holds open the door and you follow his silent command to get in. You spot the rifle tucked between the seat and the console. It makes you rethink your decision of complacency.

“My special place didn’t need a gun.”

He takes your arm and gently pushes you forward into the car, but you tug back against him.

“It’s nothing. Just a precaution.”

He gently pushes you again to move.

“Get in.” he barks.

“No.”

He takes a harsh grip this time on your arm and leads you back to the cage where Peacekeepers kept people who disturbed the peace.

He pushed you into the small space amongst the bags.

It was big enough that you could sit with your back against the wall but it would only leave an inch of space between your head and the roof. The back was caged in so the rebels couldn’t reach the officers in front, and the length was long enough to fit three or four rebels at one time. Albeit a tad uncomfortably.

You bang on the metal divide as he slams the door shut and begins to drive.

“Coriolanus, you don’t have to do this. I could just go home.”

He drives through the middle of the district to the out of bounds forest, where Peacekeepers were waiting armed and ready by the electric fence line. They buzz the parting gate open and seal it shut again once the car passes.

Past the gate, it was just you and him. What would he want to take you to a secluded forest for. A million reasons run through your mind and they all end with you dead.

“How are you doing back there?” he calls from the front. The car as it powers through the harsh conditions almost drowns him out.

“Where are you taking me?” you demand to know, “What’s out past the boundary line that you set up?”

Was he hiding something out there? Was that the reason he set up the fence? Not to keep people contained but to hide something.

“There’s a cabin I know of. There’s a lake too. I think you’ll like it.”

You watch from the front window, looking out for landmarks that could lead you back home. The dark clouds that roll fourth threaten to destroy anything you can remember.

The path to the cabin is ingrained in his mind since he walked back a different man. He weaved through the gaps in the forest without looking at his father’s compass.

“Did Lucy Gray like it?”

He ignores your comment and you don’t speak again.

—---

When you reach the cabin it is old and run down. Vines cover the walls of the house, patching up the rotten wood.

Coriolanus seemed nervous to be there. His hand flexes as it reaches for you.

The door had been sealed shut with moisture and it took three hard shoulder charges from Coriolanus to get it open. He invites you in with a hand on your shoulder, shutting the door behind you before retaking your hand in his.

You could smell the dust as you stood in the small living room. The cabin was small and colorless. Mostly everything was made from wood. From the small kitchen table and chairs to the bed you could see in the adjacent room. The only thing that was metal was an old fire stove, and a few decorative pieces.

Leaves had blown in from holes in the roof scattering the floor. The place looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. You would have thought the place was abandoned since its creation if there weren’t bags upon the floor. Despite its appearance, someone had been here before you and Coriolanus.

He lets go of you to rush over to the bags. He unzips one and pulls out a colorful dress. The way he lets out a laughy breath sends shivers down your spine.

“Lucy Gray’s?” you ask but you already know the answer. He had taken her here to kill her, maybe under the guise of running away together, and now he has taken you here to kill you.

Coriolanus shrugs as if he doesn’t know and shoves the dress back in the bag.

“Whoever it belongs to is long gone.”

He continues to look through the bags for anything missing while you glance at the door.

You think about making a run for it. Surely you would have a better chance in the forest then against him. You feel your feet slowly turning in the direction of the door when his speaking interrupts you.

“I’ll take this junk outside.” he gathers the bags, slinging one over his shoulder and carrying the other two in his hands.

You don’t speak as he comes over to you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, noticing your uptight demeanor.

“Fine. You?” Was he being driven to a quiet rage with thoughts of Lucy Gray?

“Perfect.”

He places a quick kiss to your lips before carrying the bags outside.

You look at the gun on the floor. If you ran now while he was busy outside it would give you a head start. Surely he would need to come back to get the gun before chasing you. He couldn’t do it with his bare hands.

You could feel his hands around your throat and knew he could.

You bolt through the door and down the old steps but run into him as he comes back up.

He had only taken to throwing the old bags by the side of the house, planning to sink them alongside of the guns in the lake at a later point.

“Whoa” he stops you with his hands, “Where are you going?”

“The bags. To get the bags out of the car.”

He looks out to the forest as if he had heard something.

“Get back inside. I’ll get them.”

You watch him from the window bring the items in. He was cautious and kept glancing at the forest.

You did not want to end up a ghost among the forest with Lucy Gray. You wanted to live. To go up to the mountains with Edmund and be shielded in his arms.

As Coriolanus finished his second trip with the bags, he used an old chair still there and pinned it under the door handle to prevent it from opening.

You promised yourself that you would make it to the mountains. Coriolanus would not kill you and bury your body next to Lucy Gray.

You felt as if you were in the Hunger Games.

You were going to be the victor.

Coriolanus looked unbothered by these thoughts as he tried to light a fire in the old stove.

He gets it going and as he puts his matches back in, he notices you still in a tense form.

“It’s only for tonight. We’ll go home tomorrow afternoon.”

“Will we?” you spat. “Why are we here anyway?”

‘To kill me. Say it, you coward’, you thought.

“It’s quiet,’’ he suggests, “Some place quiet where we can be alone.”

“Is this where you took Lucy Gray?”

He slams a pan down on top of the hot surface.

“I didn’t know Lucy Gray. I’ve told you.” He opens a pack of sausages and throws them down without care before tossing the leftover garlic potatoes you cooked the night before in as well.

“Did you bury her out here?” you push.

He ignores you. Pushing around a sausage with the knife he used to cut open the packet.

“Are you going to bury me out here?”

“I have never hurt you.”

“You starved me, hit me, nearly killed my mother. You call that not hurting me?”

You felt your blood boiling. It was one thing to make your life a living hell, it was another to deny he did it.

He drops the knife and turns to face you.

“Have you starved under me? Has your mother?” he hits his chest with his next words, “You eat because of me. You sleep in a bed that I paid for. I provide for you. Me.”

He stalks towards you causing you to stumble back. You hit a wall but feel a rusted piece of metal under your fingertips. You grab it from the desk but keep it low from his sight.

“Everything has happened to you because you strayed, and you want me to apologize for it?”

“I want you to admit to what you did.” What you are about to do, so I don’t feel guilty.

He grabs hold of the bar and pulls it from you.

“I did not kill Lucy Gray,” he said earnestly. But he wished he had.

He throws the rusted object across the room and it lands with a heavy clang.

“And I am not going to kill you. You don’t think you’ve done enough already to get yourself hanged? I protected you from that. Not Edmund.”

Your breath hitches as you hear his name.

The smell of burning and sounds of angry popping infiltrates the room. Coriolanus leaves you to deal with it. The sausages were charred on one side but raw on the other. After a quick flip, Coriolanus returned his attention to you.

“Sit on the ground, by my boots.’’

You eye your weapon on the other side of the room but he was stronger, faster, you would never get it and wield it in time. Night time would be the best chance of escape. The cabin had no lock on it, and you were sure you could make it to the mountains from here. But first you had to get Coriolanus off his guard. He still carried his cuffs with him. Escape would be impossible if you were locked in place.

So you sit on the ground and wrap yourself around his leg as he cooks.

He liked the feeling of you anchoring him. It made him feel secure.

He cooks in silence, tossing the items in the pan so they wouldn’t burn. Cutting a sausage in half, he could see it was done, but he had forgotten plates.

Instead he takes the pan off the stove and carefully sits down across from you on the floor. The pan sizzles as it is placed between you on the floor. It didn’t matter if it burnt the wooden floor. The cabin was so run down, it hardly made a difference. Coriolanus pokes a potato with his knife and brings it up to you.

He wouldn’t give you the knife after the pipe incident. You bite the hot potato off and Coriolanus had his turn.

You could tell the rocky temper was still floating around in him. He had calmed but his face still spoke of his annoyance. His necklace overlaid his shirt, your ring called out to you.

“Give me your dog tag.”

“What?” he responds.

“If you’re not going to kill me, then let me wear your necklace. I’ll give it back at the compound, but if you do kill me, you’ll be forced to wear your guilt around your neck.”

You wanted your ring back before you left him forever.

“I am not going to kill you.” he sighs, taking a bite of sausage.

“Then give me the necklace.”

You hold your hand out for it, which Coriolanus eyes.

Dropping the knife into the pan, he maneuvers the tag of his neck, bypassing your hand and dropping it over your head.

You felt the ring scratch you as it landed.

“Happy now? Will you stop acting crazy?”

You hold the pendants in your hand and nod in agreement

The rest of the night was uneventful. He sets up lamps as it darkens and teaches you a card game. You lost every round, even the ones he tried to let you win. It was a strategy game and you didn’t have the head for it.

The game only lasted an hour before you were helping Coriolanus set up the bed. He had brought along air beds from the Capitol that inflated and deflated by a push of a button. He pushes them together and you made a bed out of the queen sized bedwear from the apartment.

As he went to sleep with you wrapped safely in his arm, he thought about how he was going to get you to stay inside while he went searching the woods.

He couldn’t tell you what he was looking for or who he was looking for. Nor could he take you with him under the guise of a leisurely walk. If Lucy Gray was out there he didn’t want you anywhere near her. He knew there were four more other cabins in these woods. Just because she hadn’t come back for her mother’s dress, didn’t mean she wasn’t out there. If anything, if she was alive it would be the last place she went back to. She was smart, she would have known that Coriolanus would one day come back to find the mystery of Lucy Gray. She was probably trying to throw him off her scent.

You wiggle, pulling the blanket higher over you and it brings his attention closer to home.

Maybe he could lock you in the back of the car while he searched.

He decided he was going to do something nice for you after this. For putting you through it all. Get your measurements and commission Tigris for a new dress, perhaps. Or buy you a necklace of your own.

Maybe both. He had the money for it for the first time in his life. And he did owe you an apology and a thank you for being here with him tonight.

He could see how scared you were thinking that your protector was turning against you. After yesterday, he perhaps should have waited a day or two before taking you away. He at least should have been more gentle in the approach, so you didn’t think he would harm you for his anger towards Edmund.

Coriolanus understood him in a way that saved him from being shot. He was just looking out for you, the same way Coriolanus would have. He and Edmund both wanted to take care of you but your heart only had place for one. And that spot rightfully, and wholly belonged to Coriolanus Snow. Edmund did his job of keeping you alive for Coriolanus and he was rewarded when the bullet went behind him and not into his skull. But now it was Coriolanus’s turn and both Edmund and you needed to learn that.

Coriolanus mind slowed as you stilled beneath him.

You will yourself to be still. You count your breaths out to mime sleeping. Coriolanus’s hold on your shoulder falls as he sleeps but you don’t make a move just yet. Half-scared that he would wake when you got up.

It wasn’t until it started to pour rain that you decided to stop stalling and make a move.

Carefully you rose, and the chains of his arms fell off you. The rain pelting down covered the sound of the air mattress as you moved off it.

The rain, as it turns out, was a blessing and not a punishment.

You had left your boots and dress next to you for easy access. Stripping yourself of your nightdress, you quickly change and tie up your boots.

Coriolanus had taken to sleeping in his underpants, now that you weren’t in a position to indirectly persuade him to dress in his nightwear. He liked the feeling of skin to skin with you but you beg him to keep his t-shirt on. You hated the feeling of his skin pressed against yours. He obliged.

Your boots squeak against the old floor boards as you walk across it to the door. Causing you to wince at every step, but you do manage to reach the door without waking him.

You try to gently tug the chair from under the door but it was jammed. Turning back to see him still sleeping, you tug a bit harder, but only the door knob jiggles. You cringe as he moves slightly on his back. You would have a harder time escaping the compound than here. There were no armed guards or sniffing dogs. Just you and him, and you had a head start. You had to pluck up the courage now.

The chair scraps against the floor but you manage to get it free.

There is a second where nothing moves or makes sound. You almost think you got away scot-free.

“What are you doing?” You hear his voice and turn to see him sitting up dazed.

Your answer is the throwing open of the door and running out. You hear him jump up as you do.

He yanks on his Commander’s pants and boots, leaving the laces untied.

It was too late by the time he got out you were nowhere to be seen.

He felt his heart jump from his chest. This couldn’t be happening. It was just a bad dream that he would wake from. But the icy water pouring down on him told him that it was true. You had betrayed him like Lucy Gray.

Lucy Gray. What if she was out in the woods where you ran? She was the victor of the hunger games, you were a lost lamb. You wouldn’t stand a chance against her. She would tear you to shreds if she thought she could get back at Coriolanus.

He thinks about returning to the cabin and retrieving his gun but you were already too far out of reach.

He yells out for you.

The rain poured down soaking you to the bone, but covered your tracks as you ran.

“Y/N!” he screams. You battle the rain as you ran through the forest. Pushing yourself to go faster.

“Hey, it’s dangerous out here. Lets go back to the cabin. Talk about this.”

His wild eyes scan the area for any sign of movement. The rain hindered his vision but he could hear the faint sound of branches snapping under your foot.

“Do you honestly think you can run from me? That I won’t find you?”

You don’t answer and he screams out some more

“Y/N! Come out now! This isn’t funny!”

You stumble as your dress caught on a tree, it grazes your arm as you pull, leaving a nasty cut.

He screams loudly out of frustration. The rain seemed to slow down to a trickle as he did, as if it was also scared.

“You stupid, little girl” you can hear him as he walks, he was catching up. You couldn’t outrun him so you slowed your pace, focusing your efforts on hiding.

“When I catch you…” he doesn’t finish his sentence.

You press yourself against the tree. Your arm stung from the cut and your lungs burned from your efforts.

“Hey, who do you think will reach your mother first?” he taunts.

You knew it wouldn’t be him. She was safe in the mountains and soon you would be too.

“Y/N. That’s enough.”

You slink to the next tree and focus on quieting your breathing. His footsteps got louder as he gained ground.

“Y/N, I said that’s enough!” He picks up a large tree branch and walks forward with it.

“You’re going to get lost in the forest. There’s worse things than me out there.”

He imagined you wandering, lost amongst the trees. Lucy Gray, savage and wild, following you. You wouldn’t see her as a threat when she introduced herself. You were too sweet. You would willingly follow her back to wherever she was hiding and by the time you sense the danger of her, it would be too late.

He needed to find you. To make sure you were alright. That Lucy Gray hadn’t got her hands on the only pure thing in his life.

“Look it’s not too late. We can just forget this happened. Go back to the compound.” he offers but you knew it wasn’t true.

You hold your brother's ring in your hand and make an attempt to move forward.

You made it to the next tree but hear Coriolanus stop walking.

With the rain slowing, it was harder not to make a noise.

A loud banging spooked you as he threw the wood against the tree you were hiding behind. You knew you should have stayed still, he was only testing, but your feet took off before your mind could command them not too.

He felt better seeing you run off. You ran uninjured and with no one following you.

He takes off after you, determined not to lose sight again.

Both of you run through the forest and rain. You felt as though he might eat you alive if he caught you, but he was faster. All too soon, you feel hands on your waist, pulling you down. You scream as you sink into the mud, trashing under his weight.

He sits on your thighs and keeps your hands pinned against the dirt floor.

“What were you thinking?” He spat. You had never seen him look so upset. His face scrunched, eyebrows furrowed, his eyes looked down at you in a crazy panic.

“How could you be so stupid?”

You toss under him, screaming at him to release you.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

You kick your feet in an attempt to buck him off, but he was too heavy.

“Shut up,” he grabs your jaw and stills it in his direction, “You stupid, stubborn, fool of a girl. What was your plan? Huh? Wander around the forest and hope you make it back to District 12?”

You don’t answer and he tightens his hold.

“It was foolish. What if something got you in the forest?’’

What if Lucy Gray got you in the forest.

“Do you have any idea what that would have done to me?”

“I don’t care,” you cry.

“You don’t care?” he says, astonished.

He sits back off you and pulls you up by your arms.

“When you were hungry, I cared.” he pulled you along back to the cabin.

“When you didn’t have money for rent, I cared.” You wriggle your arm, but his hold was too tight.

“Clothes for the winter, medicine for your mother. I cared. And what do I get for it?”

You latch yourself onto a tree. It grounds you as he tries to tug you off it.

“All I ever wanted from you was for you to care.”

He yanks you off the tree and shoves you forward.

“You would think after everything, I would be entitled to it.”

“Coriolanus, please let go of me.” you buck against him.

He tightens his hold, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground.

He throws you across the floor as you reenter the cabin, going to get his cuffs from his bag. You scramble away from him as he gets closer but he stands over you, trapping your wrist in the cuff and hooking it around the leg of the oven and then trapping your wrists.

He stood back over you.

“Look at you,” he spat, “You wouldn’t have lasted the night out there.”

The cut on your arm bleed down, your hair was tangled with twigs and mud. You looked pitiful.

“Let me go, Coriolanus. I won’t tell anyone.”

He lowers himself down to the ground, placing his knees either side of you. He places the weight of him on your legs. You hated the feeling, as now you were fully immobilized.

He speaks slowly and dangerously with your face in his hands.

“If you ever try to leave me again, there will be nothing you could do that would save Edmund”.

Do you understand?”

You nod, but it seemed to anger him.

“I asked if you understood,” he yells.

“Yes. Yes. I understand.”

“How stupid could you be? So worried about me killing you, you decide to do it yourself.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” you just wanted him to get off you. His weight was crushing.

“I doubt you’ve ever thought something useful in your life. Use to everybody else doing it for you.”

His hands tangle in your hair forcing you to keep still.

“I’ll do your thinking for you from now on. Your next independent thought, I’ll smash from your skull, understand?”

“Yes.” you cry. The night proved too much for you. The hope of getting away now crushed under his foot.

Your chest heaves with sobs. The panic of being a sitting duck waiting to be killed courses through you, it was a choking sensation.

He takes his wet form off of you and towards the door.

The night was getting to him too. He felt as if history was repeating itself. Back in the forest with little control.

He goes to the side of the house where the bags layed and stuffed them with as many heavy rocks as he could find.

They were heavy as he picked them back up and takes the old boat out to the middle of the lake. The bags sink easily with the rocks, and join the guns at the bottom. His past was officially buried. He now only had the future to look forward to. A future with him as President of Panem, and you by his side.

He rows the boat back to shore. The rain soaked him again and his shirt clung uncomfortably on his skin. It sticks the cold to his chest and his mind floats back to you inside. You were sure to catch a cold if he didn’t move fast.

Entering the house, he could see he was correct from the way your body shivered.

Wiping off the water from his face with his soaked shirt, he goes to his bag and pulls out a fresh shirt for himself. He could still hear you crying as he changed into dry shirt and underpants.

He takes one of his long sleeve off-duty button ups and a towel he wanted to be used from swimming in the lake and brings them over to you.

He had brought you a spare change of clothes but after tonight he felt like he needed the extra security and you needed a extra reminder.

You flinch as he drops down on his knees.

“I am going to uncuff you so you can change.”

You sniffle and he takes it as confirmation to move. With your hands unlocked, you battle with Coriolanus over your clothes. He grasps the end of your dress, beginning to hike it up but you push down the fabric.

“I can-” you manage.

“I do the thinking for you, remember.”

You don’t fight as he yanks the wet dress over you, throwing it behind him carelessly. He keeps his eyes as forward as he can as he slides the sleeves up your arms. Only looking down as he does up the buttons. It was oddly gentlemanly and you wonder if he did it for his sake or yours.

“Stop,” you beg, as you feel his fingers hook over the elastic of your underwear. He doesn’t, going as far as to help you put on a fresh pair. He cuffs you once more to the oven before bringing one of the blankets and pillows back over.

He lays the blanket over you without a word and props the pillow under your head before returning to makeshift bed.

He lays on his side away from you, but you gather he doesn’t sleep, as an hour or so later he brings his pillow and blanket and curls up against your side.

He gets his rest, but you are left in a state of shock that hinders your sleep.

————-

Early the next morning you woke from the sound of Coriolanus stomping in the kitchen. He was eating beef jerky for breakfast. You wake with the sight of him leaning back against the wood counter, towards you. You try to sit up as much as you can while being tied down.

Looking at the food, your stomach grumbles.

“Hungry?” he asks.

You nod in hope that mercy would be given to you.

None was.

“Imagine how hungry you would be lost in the woods.”

“I would have made it back.” you contend.

He strips off another piece as he answers, “You would be dead if I didn’t find you.”

He throws the packet on the counter. It sits unbalanced on the side.

“Are we going home?” You saw the bags were neatly packed in a pile and you thought calling the compound ‘home’ might earn you some beef jerky.

“I have something I have to do. We’ll be back by this afternoon.”

“What do you have to do?”

“None of your business.” he snaps.

The conversation ended as he walks over to the bags and picked up his gun that was resting against them.

You watch him, dressed down in his white t-shirt and army pants, as he swings his rifle over his shoulder.

“I’ll be back soon.” he comments, half way out the door.

He walks through the forest at a slow pace. Careful not to miss the smallest bit of detail.

Retracing the steps of that day, he makes it to where he was bitten by the snake.

Time had overtaken the hunting ground. There was now grass where the earth once was.The branches and trees had healed from the damage done.

He eyes the place where he attempted to shoot Lucy Gray and aims his gun like he did.

He half-expected to see her in the space waiting for him, but it was just ground again. No clues were left for him to find.

There was no rotten smell overtaking his nose. No scrap of clothing left for him to find, or anything to indicate human life had been moving through the forest.

He continues to walk through.

The mockingjays squawk above him. If he was a better shot, he would have taken the time to kill at least some of them. But you would hear the gunfire and panic.

With no sign of Lucy Gray, he continues his way up to the other cabins. He searches each one but they look untouched and run down. The heat of the sun beats down on him as he makes his way back. It was early afternoon by the time he had satisfied himself that Lucy Gray was nowhere in the woods. She could have made it back to District 12, but it was unlikely. He kept tabs on the Covey for months after he got back. He surely would have known if they were hiding her. She must have gone north like planned. He wondered if she made it, or if her body is now one with the earth.

Either way, she was gone and Coriolanus could shake her from his memory.

When he returned back to the cabin, you were busy yanking on your chains.

He presses the point of the gun into your ankle, pinning it against the floor. You don’t try moving under threat. He slides the gun slowly up your leg, over your calf, over your knee, inching up to the middle of your thigh under his shirt. You pulled against your chains, but don't verbally acknowledge you were scared.

“Open your legs wider.” he demands. Instead you squeeze your thighs tighter together.

He pushes the gun with more force against you.

“I am in a very good mood. You would hate to ruin that wouldn’t you?”

Deciding you would, you separate your legs. He nestles himself between you, pulling you closer by your thighs so your legs are past his hips.

Thankfully the gun settles on the floor.

“I think we should talk about last night.”

You shake your head no and he gives you a serious look.

“Every time I give you an inch, you take a mile.”

“I thought you were going to kill me.”

“I have been nothing but patient and kind to you.”

You wanted to laugh at him but forced it down. It was not too late for you to end up dead in the forest.

“I know, Coriolanus. And I am sorry. It’s just no one has ever cared for me like this before”.

He laughs gently at you, “You’re trying at least.”

“It scared me. But if you give me another chance, I promise I won’t disappoint you.”

He lays his body down on yours, keeping his weight off you by planking on his elbows.

“You can have as many chances as it takes.” he promises, softly.

“Just one more.” you return in the same small voice.

He kisses you as if you had earnestly promised to live up to his expectations.

But really what you promised is that you would allow yourself one more chance of escape before he made good on his promise to kill your mother and Edmund. If you lead to their death, then you would follow them shortly after.

---------------------------

NEXT CHAPTER

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#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth #dead dove do not eat #commander snow #hunger games

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help-itrappedmyself · 1 month

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Danny Punches a Clown part 9

masterpost

Danny is led up an unnecessarily long flight of stairs into a fancy house. The floors are all hardwood with rugs interspersed throughout the rooms.

Hood starts leading him down the hallway and he can see paintings and antiquities, so many rooms. He is reminded vaguely of Vlad's mansion back in Wisconsin, but this seems larger, and better decorated. They end up in a living room of sorts, lots of different chairs and couches wand a huge TV lining a whole wall.

Danny sits in one of the armchairs. Agent A soon comes in, with another tray of food. This tray seems to be for more than just him though. Hopefully. He could never hope to finish that many snacks by himself.

A isn't wearing a mask this time. “No masks upstairs, Master Jason. I'll keep the boy company until the rest of you get here.”

Hood (Jason?) leaves and A introduces himself as Alfred. Apparently, he is the butler of the people that live here. Makes sense that people rich enough to live in this house would have a butler.

Alfred lets him sit and eat for a few minutes in silence. The room gradually becomes more full as people come in and take their seats. They all introduce themselves as they come in and sit down. Damian and Dick sit together on a couch, with a girl he knows he’s never met before, Cassandra on Dick’s other side. Jason comes in and takes another armchair. Tim sits on a couch, a blond girl, Stephanie, and another boy, Duke, sit next to him. They all start working. Seems like Stephanie and Duke are in college, and Tim works at a big company.

Once the oldest person yet comes in, Bruce, and sits on an armchair, they all stop whatever else they were doing and turn to face him. He’s pretty sure he’s met most of them before while they were in masks, but other than Jason he doesn’t really know who is who.

“Can you tell us more about where you’re from now?” Bruce asked.

Danny looks around the face in the room. They’ve all been helpful and kind. And he’s so tired of lying all the time. They’re most likely going to kick him out once they get their answers anyway.

“I’m from a different dimension. I fled here after a fight.” Danny admitted.

They already seem less shocked than Danny would have imagined, and they aren’t calling him crazy yet, so this is going great!

“There is a… war, almost? Starting in that world.” Danny gets fully into storytelling mode, as none of the others seem like they’re going to interrupt his thought process. “It all started with my parents actually. They started building a portal to the ghost zone, and that’s when it all went downhill really. Especially for me. I had my best friends over, they wanted to see the portal, so I took them down to the basement.”

Danny took a deep breath. “My parents had put the on button inside of the portal, and when I went in… I hit it on accident. The portal turned on with me inside.”

Everyone in the room remained quiet, and Danny couldn’t bear looking at their faces right now. He did his best to move on. “The portal was open, and ectoplasm started seeping into our town, we didn’t realize at the time, but that becomes a bigger problem later. At the time, we -or I- was busy becoming a one-man army against an invasion of ghosts. My parents started developing weapons. The government declared any being whose body could process or contained ectoplasm was non-sentient and could be kidnapped, experimented on, and/or killed at will. The Anti-Ecto Acts. The government branch dedicated to ghosts, the G.I.W, invaded Amity. Me and my friends had been capturing the ghosts causing problems and sending them back into the ghost zone. Now, we had to do that while trying to play keep-away with my parents and the government, while trying not to get captured myself. The government decided they wanted to send a nuke into the portal, trying to kill all ghosts at once."

“I had to stop it. I was gathering all ghosts left in Amity to bring them with me to the Zone. My friends were going to close the portal behind us, destroy it. My parents had just finished their new gun.” Danny’s hand went to his side. “They chased us. I made it through the portal, with as many ghosts as I could find. Theoretically, the portal was closed once I left.”

Danny was quiet long enough that the others realized he was done.

“I’m sorry that happened.” Danny heard, he looked up, but didn’t know who had said it. They all seemed sad.

“And you’re… A ghost then?” Jason asked.

“Only half.” They all looked bewildered at that. “It’s complicated."

“So, you can’t go home?” Bruce asked.

Danny shook his head. “If all went well then the portal doesn’t exist anymore, not that I could leave this dimension without a portal. I’m stuck here.”

“You’ll be staying with us then.” Bruce nodded firmly. “Metas are protected in this world, Danny. I’ve worked on a team with a ghost before. You’re safe here, Danny.”

#dcxdp #dpxdc #batman #danny phantom #fanfiction #my writing #danny punches a clown #they unlock backstory

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that-gay-jedi · 3 months

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The thing is that everyone everyone EVERYONE posting about Hector of Troy understands the two poles of his conflict (the household and the battlefield) but so so sooo many posts file off the nuances of where he actually falls between them.

It's not entirely inaccurate to say Hector is a family-oriented character who fights because everyone he loves and everything he knows will be destroyed if he doesn't. But it IS a simplification.

When Andromache confronts him on the way to the gates, she doesn't ask him not to go out to fight; they both acknowledge the absolute necessity of doing so. But she asks him to fight defensively, to stick close to the walls and to focus on not allowing the invading army to breach vulnerable areas therein.

And he denies her request.

He has to fight aggressively and with the intent to win glory, he tells her, because he cannot bear to show his face in Troy if he does anything else. Even knowing that at this point his death would almost certainly cost Troy the war, destroying everything he holds dear including Andromache herself, he can't bring himself to preserve his life if it means falling short of the standards of Bronze Age masculine virtue.

This would have been totally consistent with the way the internet reads him IF she had asked him to stay home and hide under the bed or something. There's a reason he's as much if not more a foil to Paris as to Achilles. But that's not what Andromache asked him to do.

Given the choice between fighting ONLY to defend Troy or fighting to achieve honour and victory in the defense of Troy, he chose the latter.

The tragedy of Hector isn't solely that he's a father and husband who is forced to be a warrior. It's that he's juuust enough of a family man to want to be one, but... not enough to risk being branded a coward for it.

At least, not until it was too late.

He wanted his wife to have a husband and his child to have a living father, he really did. He outran fleet-footed Achilles three times around the walls of Troy in what I can only imagine must have been as much a feat of desperation as of athleticism. To keep ahead of someone on foot, over that distance, wearing armor, sounds frankly painful- I say this as someone who used to love running.

If the gods hadn't decieved him into thinking he had help against Achilles, would he have run until he collapsed? Until some archer on the walls managed to either take down Achilles or at least force enough distance between them that Hector could escape? Would anyone have shamed him for it? Having faced the shame of cowardice and survived, would he have fought differently in the next battle, more defensively?

He died before we could find out.

#dont be afraid correct me if im wrong i will genuinely appreciate it #i have only lay knowledge & am acutely aware academic knowledge is a whole different animal #hector of troy #the iliad #andromache #trojan war

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donaweasley · 1 month

Text

Promises to Keep

Pairing: Geralt x Fem!Reader

Plot:

Geralt is tasked with protecting a princess but his feelings keep poking at him, urging him to shed his tough armour and give in to his heart. But the witcher is a righteous man. He won’t succumb to his feelings so easily. Will he?

Some pining, some fluff that will lead to a “part 2” of this story.

Warnings: A bit of m.at.ure stuff. K.i.d.s better stay away!

Read time: ~15 mins

Note: This story has been based in a timeline before the fall of Cintra, and so, Geralt has not yet started his quest for Ciri. Oh, and he doesn’t fall in love with Yennefer. 😉

Prologue:

Geralt of Rivia has been tasked with many a difficult missions but the hardest of them all was probably not killing but protecting a person. That person was a princess whose parents had specifically called for Geralt to take their daughter under his wing as Nilfgaard marched towards their doorstep.

The princess could fight; she had been in battles but Nilfgaard had morphed into something entirely different from what the Continent had previously seen. It was as though Hell itself had poured into their army, leaving a trail of ash and blood wherever it went.

And so, turning all cries and protests from the said princess to deaf ears, her parents sent her away, in return of an assurance from her that, should their kingdom fall, she would come back and restore it to its glory, flying their banners from every nook and corner.

They knew she could, they had said.

The journey with Geralt had not been easy, moving from camp to camp, from inn to inn, not to mention the complications of his profession. But time gradually made things easier for them both, eventually bringing them to a point where they could comfortably pose as husband and wife so as to protect her identity, and avail a temporary shelter in a village.

And even though they were living a lie of being a married pair, their hearts often wished to forget reality, and enjoy the bliss of domestic life with one another. To be with each other unconditionally, forgetting all rules and boundaries.

But Geralt was a man of ethics, and she did not want him to bear the burden of guilt just because her stupid heart could not stop fluttering for this kind, brave gentleman with a heart of gold!

And thus, neither, for fear of straining what they already had, could ever utter their feelings to each other. After all, they had promises to keep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few months ago:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She hurt herself on the thick leather armour as she flung her arms around his neck. But she did not care. That was a pain she would happily endure if it meant seeing Geralt at her doorstep safe and sound.

He smelled of sweat and blood and the swamp. He probably tasted like it, too. Alright, so what? The man returned after three weeks from the edge of the Continent. And perhaps from the edge of life. She couldn't care less about what he smelled or tasted like. But did he really…? She was very close to confirming her assumption - almost there - when Geralt suddenly remembered his place: the protector of the princess, a mere witcher.

“Princess,” the rich baritone vibrating in her ear woke her up from her purple dream. She could not help but lean back when she found her “husband” doing the same.

Geralt spread his arms slightly, and smiled with that usual softness in his eyes that came to the forefront only when she was around. “Safe and sound. Just like I had promised.”

“I am honoured!” She jested, and stepped inside, making room for Geralt to do the same.

“Give me a minute. I'll draw a bath for you. And once you have cleaned that mess off you, you'll have a warm dinner waiting,” she smiled and turned to make her way to the bath when Geralt gently but firmly held her wrist.

Neither could deny the spark that coursed through their veins at the contact. But neither would confess. Involuntarily, the witcher’s thumb made faint circles over her veins. Once he realised what he was doing, he slowly released her but their fingers lingered over the other’s before finally making some room between them.

Geralt pleaded with her to stop fussing over it all but the woman was ecstatic! Who could stop her from doing everything she could for the man she was falling in love with! Not even the strongest witcher.

And so, she hopped away to prepare a warm bath for him while he busied himself with the relieving task of removing his armour and weapons.

Geralt lay in the bath, pondering over the unsaid things that have been passing between the princess and him. Especially the ones that happened that evening. They had never been this close before, and it only made his breath shallower every time he thought about it. His mind wandered away unleashed every time his drunken heart slipped into fantasies of what could have happened had he not pulled away from her embrace…or what might happen if he allowed himself a bit more liberty with his feelings…

A gentle knock on the door startled him, bringing him back to the reality of the small room lit by two candles, back to the fact that the woman living under the same roof with him was his mission, not his real wife, as the villagers knew her to be. There was no way a witcher could dream of having a wife and a family, let alone with a princess!

“Need anything?” The voice was gentle, happy…it was caring. It made Geralt smile to think that someone cared so deeply for him, that he was actually having a domestic life, even though a fake one.

“Your company would be nice,” he quipped.

Geralt grinned wickedly. He did not need to see her to know the blush creeping up her ears and cheek.

Over the months their relationship - real or fake, whatever that was - had built into a strong bond, one that was made of cares, banters, challenges, huffs (and not just from the witcher), puns of all kinds and fluttering heartbeats. And though neither backed down during the banters or the puns, either one of them definitely ended up with blood rushing up their cheeks.

(Y/N) bit her lip and rolled her eyes. Two could play this game. Taking a deep breath, she cracked the door open. It startled Geralt, and she could tell it without seeing his wide eyes and parted lips.

“I believe you have a lot to talk about from your adventure?” She slowly walked in, eyes straining to look anywhere but at him.

She did not receive an immediate response. How could she! Geralt was spellbound by the boldness of this woman! It was inspired by his own recent boldness, perhaps, he wondered.

He cleared his throat, “Indeed.”

She picked up a small wooden stool, and sat with her back to him. “You were saying?”

“I would detail everything but are you sure you can stomach all that? And before dinner?”

Glimpses from his previous tales crept back, and she gulped at the gory imaginations that his words had painted in her head. Perhaps she could not. But would she confess? No!

“I’m tougher than you think, witcher.”

This was their usual way of addressing each other: “Witcher”, with a sarcastic stress in the middle of the word, and “Princess”, with a vanity enveloping the word.

When they had set out for their journey, she had requested him not to call her “princess”. “I have a name, and I would like to be addressed by it,” she had insisted. But Geralt had decided on maintaining his propriety.

When asked whether he would like to be addressed as Geralt or Witcher, he had simply mumbled, “Whatever you like, Princess.”

“Witcher it is then.”

And that has ever been going on, until recently when some rare moments witnessed them addressing each other by their names, and not what they were to the world.

In the small bathroom now, she heard a slosh behind her, signalling the rise of the large man from his bath. She tried her best to stop her shameless mind from picturing his wet body, dripping with water as he stood and stepped out of the tub, as he reached for the towel nearby and dried himself with it before wrapping it low around his waist. But the quiet of the night made sure that every little sound and movement reached her ears, leaving her a slave to her unabashed imagination.

Geralt grunted, the sound coming from right above her head.

“I know you can’t take it…Princess,” the last word was practically breathed on the shell of her ear.

Leaving her a total mess, Geralt sauntered out of the bathroom with a promise to indulge her in his stories after dinner.

That night, in the faint light of the moon, nimble fingers traced the contours of the witcher’s face as he slept - brows slightly arched, lips parted, face as serene as a dawn in Spring. She watched him breathe peacefully, devoid of the cares of the world, until a small smile cracked at a corner of his mouth. With eyes still closed, he placed a hand on hers and brought it to his lips. A chaste kiss was all it was, and yet it had her heart thundering. He had never - ever - shown any affection other than soft looks and gentle smiles.

“Sleep princess,” he rasped in a sleepy voice.

He opened his eyes once, to watch her smile at him, before holding her hand snuggly and drifting back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Present day:

The sound of the door cracking open brought her back to the present. Quickly slipping a little more below the soapy water, she gripped the hilt of her sword.

It was Geralt. The moment he set one foot inside, his eyes went wide. It took him hardly a second to swing on his heels, to look away, but the sinful image had planted itself in his head. Probably for eternity.

“Pardon me. I…I did not know… I thought you were done. I just returned from outside; I did not notice that you were not anywhere else. I…”

“Geralt!” His name. She spoke his name! That, along with her soothing tone put an abrupt end to his string of stammering apologies. “It’s alright. I know you had no ill intentions.”

Shifting uncomfortably on his feet for a couple of seconds, he asked, “Do you need anything?”

Her lips stretched into a smirk as she recalled an old conversation that had occurred under very similar circumstances.

“Your company would be nice,” she quipped, just like Geralt had a few months ago.

The witcher recognised the joke immediately. A small smile escaped his usual serious features.

“I believe you have a lot to talk about your first kill,” he jested just like she had back then.

The sigh that filled the room made Geralt wonder if he had said something uncalled for. She was shaken by the incident but if she was making jokes now, she must be recovering. Right?

“(Y/N),” Geralt called without looking at her, “are you alright?”

“No, if truth be told,” came the confession.

He understood. Keeping his gaze focused on the floor, he took a few large steps until he was standing near the foot of the tub. In one smooth move, he was sitting on the floor with his back to her.

There was something about Geralt that made her feel protected all the time. Even in her most exposed and vulnerable state, she felt safe and comfortable with him around. And it was not just the love she felt for him. It was something else. It was something…very “Geralt”.

“The monsters we kill haunt our minds till long after. You never get used to it no matter how many kills you have made,” he sighed.

(Y/N) listened quietly. He was a man of few words, and at most times it seemed as though he was not even listening. But he always understood every single unexpressed emotion, every single unsaid word that she carried within her.

“Every time I close my eyes or every time I hear something, fear grips me,” she shivered at the thought. “You are right. I'm haunted by its memory, and … I cannot seem to shake the thoughts off. No matter how hard I try! I cannot even be courageous enough to convince myself that it is all in my head!” She slapped the water in frustration.

Unlike the witcher, killing monsters was not her profession nor did she volunteer for it. But what she did volunteer for was accompanying Geralt to a trip to the river caves for some herbs. Despite the witcher’s efforts to shield her inside the safety of their home, she managed to argue her way out of the proverbial safety net. Which is what led to the unforeseen event of her first close encounter with one of the many monsters that had become part of Geralt’s life. It also led her to, for the first time, being at the receiving end of Geralt’s fury for risking her life .

‘You were very courageous back there,” Geralt smiled at the memory of her driving her sword through the neck of the drowner, thus saving his own neck in the process.

“I had to be! Couldn’t just stand there and watch my favourite grumpy fellow die!” She jested about it but a shiver ran up her spine as she spoke. “It was disgusting, you know? I can still feel all the blood and slime on my skin.”

“It was also very brave. You saved my life!”

He had thought that his statement would make her proud but he was met with silence.

She spoke after a while. “You do know that I shall not be able to live anymore if something happens to you, don’t you? I shall only survive.”

Geralt’s heart suddenly felt very heavy in his chest. What she said was known information to him. Somewhere in his soul, he knew that she loved him. But to hear it aloud was totally unexpected.

“I shall be fine, princess,” he used his most assuring voice. “Do not worry about me.”

Unseen by him, a smile formed on her countenance. “I know, witcher.”

“Maybe we could talk about something else?” He suggested. “Take your mind off the monster?”

“Hmm… How is Jaskier?” She suddenly asked.

Geralt almost turned his head towards her in surprise. Almost. She was naked, having a bath, and the first “something else” that came to her mind was the bard??

“Jaskier?” He asked. “You wish to talk about Jaskier now?”

“Well, you wanted to talk about something else!”

Was that jealousy that she was sensing in his huffs? She hoped it was.

“He must be fine. I do not know.” He ended the topic as quickly as it had begun.

“Hmm.”

The princess laid her head back on the tub and closed her eyes. There was a comfortable silence. So comfortable that she did want to leave, did not want to do anything that might disturb the moment. Even though it was getting late. Even though Geralt still had to wash himself.

Geralt still has to wash himself! Shit! He must be hungry!

Her eyes shot open. “I’m sorry, I forgot you have to wash up, too! I shall be quick.”

The sudden splash of water pulled Geralt out of his own reverie, inadvertently causing him to turn around so as to ask her not to hurry. But the sight before him left him speechless. It was fortunate that she was too busy to see him else he would never have been able to face her in shame. Geralt turned back and shut his eyes as soon as he snapped out of his trance. But that did nothing to erase the image imprinted in his mind. Not that he wanted to.

She had pulled herself up slightly, as she tried to reach for the towel on the nearby stool. In the light of the candles, her body glowed golden as water cascaded off every curve of her body… down the side of her neck, her shoulders, two perfect globes that highlighted particularly well in the candlelight, perky nipples that had hardened in the water, the beginning of a lustful waist…

He did not hear her step out of the tub, did not hear the rustle of clothes as she got dressed, no. His mind was replaying the same thing over and over again. There was an evident twitch somewhere down his body. He faintly heard something about dinner and changing the water. The creak of the door pulled him back.

“I shall…” His voice was hoarse. “I shall change the water. You may leave.”

The change in his mannerism surprised her but then both his voice and attitude were gravelly most of the time. With a small “alright”, she exited, leaving him to his thoughts.

Dinner was quiet as Geralt tried to suppress the feelings bubbling inside him. He wanted to look at her and lose himself in her eyes. He wanted to tell her how he felt. Wanted to show her what it meant to unleash months of bridled love that he had been carrying within his entire being. He wanted to…

Gods! There were so many things that he wanted to do. But every time he talked himself into taking one step forward, his reality made him take two steps back.

And so, once again, he retired to bed without telling her anything at all about the whirlwind in his heart.

Geralt woke up sometime in the middle of the night, sensing some movements near him. Once sleep stopped fogging his senses, he realised that it was (Y/N) tossing and turning beside him in her sleep. Not only was she being restless, she was mumbling something incoherent that only got louder with her movements. It hardly took him a couple of seconds to realise that she was having a nightmare!

Geralt tried to wake her up: called her name, shook her. But she was trapped deep in her own head. He thought he heard something like his name but could not be sure. Seeing his efforts go in vain, he took her face in both hands and shouted her name while shaking her once more. He wasn’t sure if it would work but luckily, it did. With wild eyes she stared at him, as if trying to figure out where she was, trying to put up a wall between her horrid imagination and sweet reality. When she finally came around, she threw her arms around Geralt’s neck, causing him to tumble to the mattress with her below. Once again, he fought with himself as a wave of relief washed over him, eventually crashing into a strong desire to keep her encased in his arms and caress her for the remainder of the night.

“I dreamt that you were…” she almost sobbed. “That I had…” She couldn’t bring those bitter words to her tongue.

Geralt understood.

“You will never lose me. I shall always be by your side. I promise.”

In the dark veil of the night, in those weak moments, he made her a promise that even he did not know how he would keep, for she would be married to some royalty some day; she would have to go away, leaving him with his solitude and monsters. He could not keep her to himself nor could he watch her be with somebody else.

But that was a worry for another day. Right then, she was in his arms, and no one else’s. Even if for a moment, she was his. He lay on his side and pulled her to his chest. A hand cradled her head, drawing soothing lines through her hair, until her warm breath on his skin had become stable.

Geralt never seeked help or answers from the gods; he did not believe in them. But as he kissed the crown of her head that night, his lips prayed for her safety and happiness, and if possible, for her to be bound to him for eternity.

He knew he was being selfish. He did not know who heard his prayers or even if there was someone who might hear them. But he whispered them anyway, believing that it was the only way to make his wishes come true.

***

#geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #the witcher #the witcher netflix #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n

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