#AND NOW HIS SON IS PROBABLY GOING TO HAVE TO DO TRIAL BY COMBAT ON HIS BEHALF BECAUSE THE KING JUST WANTS A TRIAL AND EXECUTION | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

syndxlla · 3 years

Text

Part ten of the More To Love Series

Summary: The ball is tomorrow night and preparations are in full swing in the Mandalorian Palace. In desperate need of a break from all of the Masquerade planning, you get away from the palace for a few hours. This gives you a chance to reflect on your relationship with the Knight, learn more about his past, and grow closer with Koska.

Word Count: 10.9k, NO ‘Y/N’

Warnings: SMUT (handjob, grinding, this is like actually sort of gross if you over think it so just don’t over think it thanks <3), THIS IS EXPLICIT, 18+ CONTENT, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. Swearing. Mentions of: blood, scars, fighting, hand-to hand combat.

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: insight of recent events surrounding my tumblr, I have added an additional in-text warning for the smut scenes. This will continue for future chapters for those who do not wish to read the explicit scenes of More to Love.

Author’s Note: HEY, it’s been a little while, huh? Happy to be back. THANK YOU FOR 1k FOLLOWERS HOLY CRAP!! You all mean so much to me and the support of this fic is unlike anything I could have ever asked for! Also... the smut in this gets,, nasty. Like not that bad it isn’t super kinky or needs lots of warnings it’s just... like gross if you think too hard about that so do me a favor and don’t overthink it haha. OKAY LOVE YOU ENJOY

Part Nine

“No, If you keep that elbow down it will throw off your balance.”

“Okay, what if I hold it like this.”

“No it will get more tired faster.”

“Well how long do I have to keep it up like this?”

“Until the song ends!” You sigh, your fingers coming up to hold your eyebrow out of frustration. You and the Knight have been in the library for nearly an hour trying to learn how to waltz together and if you didn’t know any better, you’d guess he had two left feet. He was starting to get the hang of it, though. Slowly but surely and through a lot of trial and error but you don’t have very much room to talk because an hour before this one, he was just as frustrated with you because you couldn’t swing at him with nearly enough power needed to make some damage on anyone. This is how you’ve spent your last two evenings with the knight. The two of you sarcastically bullying one another in learning the opposite’s art. It was already Friday, the ball was tomorrow and you weren’t sure if he was going to be able to pull it together in time. The worst part is that you haven’t had anytime privately with him to do your... usual antics. There was always someone with you, usually Korkie or Koska, or the dance and fighting practice took up too much time to really have any fun.

The palace has been bustling the last two days. Every servant has had a task they were always doing, there was no down time for them which meant lots of downtime for the Royals. If there was no one to set up tea, then there would be no tea, simple as that.

Because of the high workload put on the staff of the palace, each royal has been subject to dinner in their own rooms alone this week, which was a dream come true for you. Dinner was your least favorite time of the day because of how painful it was to get through socially. And it also meant you got to spend more time with your own thoughts. You still aren’t sure what to do about the marriage, especially since you’ve admitted to yourself that you think you are falling for the beskar-clad knight who stands watch outside your door.

Even Soniee has been spending less time inside your quarters pampering you (you could really use a bubble bath). At all hours of the day, there was either a team of butlers carrying large bouquets of flowers down ornate hallways, a chef interrupting your dress fitting with Soniee and Koska to have you try another flower-flavored mousse, or an immediate meeting with the Queen to learn about some of your guests who will be at the masquerade and how to properly greet them. One time yesterday, you were asked to review the lanterns they picked out for the garden decorations. You were so indifferent to the ones they picked that the servants actually sent you back inside out of frustration. Along with the controlled chaos of preparations, the mask making has still left you feeling guilty. Just this morning you caught a glimpse of Koska’s shaky hands that had clearly been pricked by one too many needles while sewing jewels into the Queen’s mask. You must have apologized too much because she eventually got snarky and asked you to quit saying sorry about it. As much as you would like to dance with your knight with others looking on, you weren’t sure if it was worth all the pain and labor others were putting themselves through for it.

Party planning was exhausting, and on top of all of it, you needed to teach the most uncoordinated man in the kingdom how to waltz. It genuinely baffled you how he was able to be so methodical and perfect in hand-to hand combat and in bed but can barely hold his own in situations such as these. There was something charming about that flaw, however.

Now, the golden sunlight of the aging day was pouring into the towering windows of the Mandalorian library. It had made the room warm, and showed just how valuable the knight’s dark skin was as his bare hands soaked in the rays. You caught yourself staring at them a few too many times, which to your dismay, he caught you doing.

“You’re staring again.” He says while the two of you are practicing the basic 1, 2, 3 waltz step. Your eyes jump back to the emotionless visor of the beskar helmet which looked down at your face. You didn’t even realize you were looking at your hand holding out to the right, studying the way his knuckles looked and how clean his fingernails were.

“Sorry… It’s just that dancing is usually an emotional thing, you’re supposed to play off of eachother I suppose.” You shrug, stopping the dance. You realized you had been searching for something to play off of, anything, even if it’s just the calloused fingers of a hard worker.

You wouldn’t think the two of you would be so far behind and underprepared but for a majority of these rehearsals you’ve been the one leading as he figures it out. You know how bad it would look if you were the one leading tomorrow, and you’re starting to lose hope that you’re going to pull this off. You had wished you started teaching him earlier, but knew that he would have never agreed before now.

“Princess, you do realize that you’re probably still not going to see my face if we dance tomorrow.” He drops your hands. You sigh, you did know it, you just didn’t want to admit it.

“I know… when do you take it off?” You couldn’t remember if you had asked this already. Maybe you were out of line for asking, but a piece of you didn’t care, you deserved to know.

He was quiet, he always was when you asked him something personal. Maybe he was hoping you would get the idea by now…

“When I eat, when I sleep… sometimes around my son. Sometimes around other guards.” He said as he walked towards one of the library windows. You followed him, a few footsteps behind. He stopped at the glass, his reflection disturbing the pristine scene outside. You could see the beach from this window, not as well as in other parts of the castle, but the horizon of the Mandalorian sea was still in view. Your reflection came up behind his. You could see the exhale of his lungs from the shift in armor weight.

“I understand if you never want to show me.” You said. You didn’t really believe that, but you did respect him, and because of that you had to accept the reality that he may never show you. Maybe you were just trying to convince yourself that. You walk a little further to him and stand up on your tippy-toes so that you may rest your chin on his shoulder, looking out at the world below. It was so peaceful from up here. You’ve only left palace grounds once in the last two weeks and you desperately want to again. Being cooped up inside an oil painting was getting exhausting. “I want to go somewhere.” You mutter, your arms wrapping around his waist to hug him from behind: a pure and innocent act of affection.

“What?” His helmet turns to the side just a little bit so that you might hear him better. “Like… the Garden? The Parlor?”

“No!” You chuckle against his pauldron, “Outside, I want to get out of the palace again.”

“Did you forget what happened last time we went out?” He asks meditatively. “We can’t risk anything happening to you before tomorrow, The Queen would be furious, and even worse, Koska would be too.”

“Of course I didn’t forget! I’ll have the scar to always remind me” You giggle at his remark. “And besides, I-I want to go to the water.” You step out from behind him to look out at and gesture to the gentle waves against the golden beach. “I’ve been on a sandy beach before.” You clear your throat.

“We… might be able to arrange that. How about we go on Sunday? After the ball?” He attempts to negotiate.

“Or we could go now? There’s no formal dinner tonight.” You suggest.

“Your parents are coming in tonight, along with a number of other guests, not to mention Grand General Vizsla, all the Royal Guard is to be presented to him at nine.” He groans, but you were determined to convince him. You really needed a break from all of the planning, fittings and tastings.

“So? It’s barely five! We can just go for a little while!” You say as you look at the grandfather clock that sits nestled between two bookcases. You weren't feeling very optimistic, you doubted he would not budge, he’s always been so stubborn. “I can repay you…” You bite your lip. You were also incredibly horny and remember overhearing a maid back home talk about sex on the beach. It had always excited you.

He sighs again.

“Please? For me? I seriously deserve a break, so do you.” You reach out to stroke his hand. You knew that would probably work, it has before.

“Fine-“

“Really!?”

“Yes, but we have to tell Koska just so they don’t think we’re missing again.” He turns to walk out of the library. You silently congratulate yourself on getting the most unmovable and obedient man in the galaxy to go against his orders and do what you want. You happily skip behind him. “It takes a while to get all the way down to the beach so we should probably take a horse.” He says on the move. “Do you know how to ride?”

“I’m royalty, of course I do… do you?” You revising a teasing eyebrow.

He scoffs at your question, “There is much you do not know about me.”

“Well, you make it sort of hard for me to learn.” You roll your eyes playfully. He elbows you in the side, knocking you off your balance. You attempt to do the same to him, nudging him right back but not even getting the boy to budge and hurting your funny bone a little against the Beskar.

It takes you two a few minutes of complete silence and portrait-perfect stature to get all the way down the palace into the servants quarters. The only other time you had been in these narrow, stone hallways in the ground level of the Mandalorian Castle was earlier this week after Korkie begrudgingly led you back to your quarters in a wet peasant gown and a stinging bicep.

By the time the knight and yourself had made it down here, he was leading you through the maze of corridors, past helmetless knights who all nodded out of respect as they passed you, and into a wooden-arch. The room you had entered into must have been the servant’s common room, because it was about the size of the dining room. A candle-lit, wooden chandelier hung over four long tables, unlike the glass and oil-lamp chandeliers in the rest of the palace. A large fireplace burned on one wall, illuminating the room more and several small, gothic-arch windows towards the ceiling allowed warm light to pour into the cozy hall. Several handmaidens bejeweled masks at one table, twice as many sewed the bases of the coverings at another. One table showcased all of the finished designs, which depicted extravagant bird beaks, colorful fox and wolf snouts, towering cat and rabbit ears, ornate peacock tails, sharp antlers and horns on some and even incredible tusks on a few. They were all breathtaking, and while you felt guilty for making so many staff members work double-time, you appreciated their handy-work in making your dream come true.

The fourth and final table was mostly empty, a few elderly and child servants ate potato soup at it, and one maid cleaned her finger-nails at the opposite end. Everything was so simple and normal, it was such a display of controlled chaos that almost made you forget about the corruption in Mandalore… almost.

A sharp whistle rang through the room, and immediately, everyone dropped what they were doing, stood up swiftly from their seats on the long benches that paralleled each table, and turned to look at you before bowing deeply and diligently. They hadn’t even noticed you were there at first and interrupting their normalcy was not what you intended to do, but then you caught sight of who it was that sang the whistle. Koska Reeves was walking through the bowed, silent heads to you and the Knight. She looked exhausted, her hair was down and over her shoulders instead of pinned up in the intricate braids she usually wore them in when she was around royalty. The amount of fly-always was distracting but you couldn’t blame her, she would not disappoint the Queen with her work, even if that meant looking a little rough and disheveled.

“What’s the meaning of this? All royalty is supposed to be approved before coming in here.” She says to your knight chivalrously, then turns to you, “This is no sight for you, princess.” Something told you that she wasn’t only referring to the activities taking place in the common room. “I am sorry for our disorder.”

“No worries, Lady Reeves. There’s no need to apologize. I am most impressed by the work done on the masks for tomorrow.” You gesture to the table with the completed designs.

She sighs and smiles, “Thank you.” She nods before turning around, “Carry On!” She calls out to the room and everyone returns to normal as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, as if you weren’t even there. There was something you liked about that, something that reminded you that even though you have a lucky bloodline, you’re human too, and not all that different from the workers in this very room. Their daily routine was fascinating to you. “What do you two want?” She hushes her voice and drops her “right-hand woman to the queen”, first lady-in-waiting and head of the Mandalorian royal staff persona. She’s now the same brash friend you two shared.

“We want to go out for a while, it’ll just be a few hours but we knew we needed to tell someone in case anyone notices that we’re missing.” The Knight nods, explaining the situation. She raises a questionable eyebrow.

“Absolutely not, we cannot risk anything happening to her before tomorrow night.” Your heart drops.

“That’s what I said, but she’s incredibly convincing.” He shrugs, tilting his head just enough to show the extra bit of emotion. Koska looks between the two of you, her hands perched firmly on her hips. You caught sight of her hands again, which were now bandaged tightly with the same white gauze that she wrapped your cut arm with earlier this week. You wondered if that was done to dress bleeding wounds, keep the shakiness from over-working and late nights in control, or a dreadful mix of both. A terrible feeling told you it was the third.

“Vizsla is going to be here.” She raises an eyebrow, her intimidating demeanor hasn’t gone away even after she’s become aware of your little secret (well, actually massive, life-altering, “how-the-hell-am-I-gonna-fix-this?” secret). “If you aren’t here, that could result in a court-martial from the Queen herself.”

“Sounds tempting.” He replies.

“You and I both know what’s going to happen to you and your little boy if you step out of line, even once, which is why I’m guarding your scandle so close to my heart.” Her voice get’s real quiet when she says that, and he shifts his weight. Your heart drops, what in the world could she mean by that? “You know what could happen to you if I accidentally slip something, that’s why I won’t cover for you.”

“What the hell does that mean?” You whisper. She glances at you and then right back to him.

“Wow, you really haven’t told her much, have you?” Koska’s arms move from her hips into a fold over her chest. He doesn’t respond.

“Told me much about what?” You ask, worried about whatever was going on that you didn’t know about. Every day you’re reminded about how much of a stranger he really is to you.

“All she knows is that I had an old job, that’s all she needs to know.” He bites back, his voice equally hushed.

“If you’re fucking her, she deserves to know a lot more, but that’s just my opinion.” Koska chuckles once and you blush red hot. “I mean, at least tell her your name.”

“Why is this happening here? Now?” He gestures to the very crowded room. “Look, we just want to go down to the beach for an hour at the most. We’ll be back long before Vizsla gets here. You won’t have to cover for us, I swear.” He tries changing the subject but your mind is racing with the possibilities and confusion of the conversation you were just welcomed into.

Koska looks between the two of you a few times again, carefully considering what’s on the table and the risk. “Fine, one horse. I mean it, only one because if two are gone, someone will notice and then I’m gonna have to do exactly what I told you I wouldn’t do and what you said I won't have to: cover for your ass. Get out of here.” She beckons her head to a door that leads outside as a smile spreads across your cheeks. “Djarin! Don’t be late!” She calls out as you begin walking. That’s the second time you have heard that word, both times uttered from Koska’s mouth. Something wanted you to believe that might be his name but you were far too scared to find out for your own. You would try to remember it this time.

The knight leads you out of the room, and you watch Koska over your shoulder as you follow, studying the way she stood still immediately after you walk away, taking a few deep, sharp breaths and then promptly returning to her work. You wondered if she was tired, remembering that not everyone who lives in the Mandalorian Palace has the same relaxing lifestyle that you have.

Despite the aging daylight, it was still deathly hot. The heat of summer bled onto your shoulders, which were still partially covered due to the scarring cut in your muscle. The clothing only added to the heat. The part of the Castle grounds you were were foreign to you. They weren’t the beautiful, lush and trimmed gardens or breezy courtyards you usually spend your afternoons in, no. It was dark, the tall height of the palace shading the courtyard where knights sparred and a pair of little servant girls chased one another. One wall that lined the courtyard was the horse stables, and another was a blacksmith. The golden light shone through the stables, and you were able to spot the four white horses that took you and Korkie to Keldabe earlier this week despite the beasts being backlit.

“You can ride, I’ll just walk.” He says as he guides you to a palomino, a tall horse with a Caramel body and pure white mane.

“Are you sure?” You ask, not wanting him to have to walk.

“Of course.” He says as he mindlessly bridles the horse, petting him on the nose a few times. “Do you prefer a saddle?” He asks. You nod, and he swings the seat over the back of the steed.

“Does this horse have a name?” You ask, reaching your hand out to pet his neck a few times. The horse nickers at your touch.

“He likes you.” The Knight chuckles. You smile at the statement, and continue to stroke the soft hair on the neck. “Clove.” He says, his voice velvet and full of caring. The knight knew this horse. They had a bond. “Here.” He holds his hand up for you to hoist yourself onto the saddle. You were in no way dressed for riding, and the saddle wasn’t even a side-riding seat, but you would make it work. You knew that on the palace grounds you would have to ride side-saddle, it’s customary, and how you learned. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t ride regularly. The horses back home in Corellia were massive beasts, animals suited for harsh winters and heavy amounts of snow, thick fur covers their ankles so that they can trudge through deep snow and pull sleighs. The Mandalorian horses were far more majestic, more like show horses than work horses. Clove was gentle, though, that was something that wasn’t common for the strong horses up north. He didn’t move a muscle or bat an eyelash as you heave yourself onto his back, adjusting yourself to sit properly, the knight’s hand holding yours tightly as you positioned yourself and then rearranging the heavy skirt of your dress to properly cover your legs. His plan grazes your shin as he does it, and your eyes immediately catch the visor of his beskar helmet. You liked to think he was looking at your eyes, too. The moment is so still, time freezing for half a second.

He starts to walk the horse out of the opposite side of the stable and into the field behind the palace. You could see the tree line of the garden from here. The bridle was tightly wrapped around his hand as he led the two of you out of the palace and into the hot, hot sun. This was the first time you’ve ridden a horse in a very long time, and you had almost forgotten how much you loved it. A cheesy smile was on your face, and your eyes cycled from the mane of the horse, the shoreline ahead, the back side of the ornate castle and the top of the helmet of the knight. The sun reflected off of the beskar, causing a bright illumination to shine on the bodice of your gown. He walked methodically and quietly, and you wanted to start a conversation with him but it didn’t feel right.

Comfortable silence is often overlooked, something taken for granted that is really only shared between two trusting people. You aren’t sure if you’ve ever experienced a genuine comfortable silence with anyone before. Being a royal has a lot of “fine print”, one of which being that no one ever shut up. Korkie isn’t the only self-centered, talkative royal in this world. The thing that sets Korkie aside from the rest is the fact that you’ll have to deal with it intimately for the rest of your life.

There was something wildly attractive about the introvert by your side. Because he was few with words, it caused you to seek them out, and cherish what little you did get. He was warming up to you, opening up and every time you get a moment alone with him, he says a little more. Your conversations now are very different from that first night in the castle when he helped you untie your corset. All he said originally was “Goodnight, Princess”, and now he’s telling you about the stars and teaching you how to fight and defend yourself. The idea that it’s happened too fast has crossed your mind several times, but you considered that when you’re alone with someone almost all day, every day, you’re bound to get to know one another quicker than usual. However, you’ve also been afraid that you came off too harsh, maybe you jumped into it all too fast and overwhelmed him. What if he’s only complying to the relationship because he’s obligated to through his duty? You had to admit that there were a number of insecurities surrounding your friendship, you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t think that. Maybe you felt that way because you relied so heavily on him to get away from the other boy in your life who you can’t escape no matter how hard you try. Was it entirely possible that the knight feels about you the way you feel about Korkie? That very thought made you sick, your stomach twisting and preventing you from enjoying the beautiful landscape ahead.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. He noticed that you had tensed up. You silently curse yourself for not hiding it better.

“What?” Your look down at him, forcing a false smile. He was looking up at you now, his hand resting on your knee. Your eyes move from where he holds you and back up to the visor on his helmet. “Oh… nothing.” You hum.

“You are a fool if you think you can hide anything from me.” He tilts his head and your cheeks burn with blush. You sigh, knowing you should tell him. The chances are that expressing these concerns to him might give you a piece of mind… or they could do the exact opposite. You aren’t sure if you can take the emotional weight of resenting two men who you admire. You admire them for entirely different reasons, however. You admire Korkie for his dedication to his kingdom, and you admire that he’s genuinely trying his best. However, you admire the Knight for his kindness, his patience, his protection. You admire his velour voice, his plush lips, and the way he touches you. You admire that he’s a father, that he’s split his dedication between his duty to his kingdom and his duty to his son. You admire his deep chuckle, and the way he kisses you, the way you can see him laugh when you shoot him silly faces during dinner. You both admired and was frustrated by his obedience to his creed. He kept promises, no matter how life-altering they may be.

As you reflect on all the reasons he meant anything to you, you felt a sense of peace. It was better, the feeling in your stomach, that is. You decide it is right to tell him, you recall your governess explaining to you that all good relationships are built on enthusiastic communication, and you wanted your relationship with the Knight to be considered ‘good’. You sigh and then speak up, “I just…” You take a sharp, deep breath in the middle of your sentence before speaking up again, “just lots of insecurities, I suppose.” You shrug.

“Insecure- about what?” He asks.

“Everything, but especially us.” You didn’t really want to have this conversation, but you knew you had to.

“May I ask why?” His tone was sincere.

You aren’t sure how to reply at first. “Is it too fast? Am I too much?” You ask after careful consideration of what you were going to bring up first.

“What? No.” You think this was the first time he had ever replied immediately after you ask him something. “What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know-“

“Yes you do… tell me.” He reassures.

“Our personalities are different, you’re quiet and stoic…”

“Is that… bad?”

“No! No, not at all. Royals just aren’t that, and I worry if we’re compatible enough. And don’t mistake me, I admire that about you, but I fear I’m too much for you.” You sigh, shaking your head. Clove nickers again as if he’s listening in on your conversation and chiming in. He doesn’t respond right away which you’ve gotten used to, but if it was any other situation you wouldn’t be overthinking it. You can’t take the silence anymore and speak up, “And there’s the added factor that I’m totally cheating on Korkie with you-”

“-If I thought you were too much, do you think I would let you teach me how to dance?” He interrupts. The words halt in your mouth, and you look at him almost dumbfounded. “Or do you think I would be teaching you how to defend yourself? Fucking you on a royal sofa in an un-locked room? Risking my title to take you to the beach?” He almost sounded… angry? Had you offended him for thinking that? Your legs tensed up on the horse, and you regretted everything you had said. He did have a point, you hadn’t really thought of that.

“I… suppose you’re right.” You mutter.

“I don’t have to be doing any of this,” He grabs your hand, holding it in his and uses his other hand to halt the horse. The three of you pause in the field between the beach and the castle. There had been a downgrade so you were mostly hidden but you could still the upper-towers of the palace. He looks up and you, and you find yourself wishing you could see his eyes again. “But I do because I’m… fond of you.” It sounds like he’s having a hard time getting the words out, but that isn’t very uncommon for him. Your heart flares up, this was the first time he had ever admitted anything like that.

“W-what?” You ask, sounding like a fool.

“I know, it’s crazy. How could a halfwit like myself deserve a Princess like you?” He chuckles under his breath. “Maybe the elf laid a spell on me, I don’t know. But I do know that ever since I was given the duty of protecting you, my life has been different.” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “I’ve… I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and I don’t know what it is but I-I-“ You smile fondly, and use his hand to hop off the horse. You bring your hands up to hold the back of his neck.

“It’s not a spell.” You whisper. “I feel it too.”

“Then it’s a spell on both of us.”

“Maybe.” You move your hands up to his helmet, desperately wanting to remove it, but you remember what you told yourself the other day. If he wishes to show you his face, it should be his choice, he deserves to be the one to take the beskar off. You would respect that. Instead, you just run your fingertips along the lip of the helmet, looking into the visor enchantingly. “Then it would be a wonderful spell.”

His hands find their way to your waist, hugging you to his chest. You rest or head on his shoulder and just close your eyes, feeling his chest plate move with each breath. It’s so still, the summer breeze softly runs through the tall grass. You can hear the waves gently hugging the beach, and the two of you just stand there like that. Completely alone, the only companionship being one another and a mindlessly-grazing horse. No one to interrupt. No doors to lock. No Princes to lie to. No thieves to fight. Just the two of you. If you could stay in that moment for the rest of your life, you would. In the earlier days of your relationship, you used to worry you wouldn’t like what his face looked like, worried that he might be unattractive to you. But every selfish desire you had about his physical appearance dissolved with the wind. No matter what he looked like, or what his past was, or what his name was, you didn’t care. You didn’t care because he cared for you, and you cared for him, too.

Before you can soak in the moment any longer, you’re swiftly grabbing his wrist, and tugging him towards the beach. The stillness of the moment is lost, but you’re quickly giggling as he’s chasing you down the small slope to the beach. You pull your skirt up as far as you can so you don’t trip on it, and find yourself being unable to slow down before the hill meets the shore. The soil slowly becomes more and more sandy, and your feet are bolting against uneven land towards teal, clear water. Before you can reach the ocean, however, strong hands are wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against the Knight’s chest. You can hear the low rumble of chuckling in his throat, and you have the biggest, dorkiest smile of all time on your face. He spins the two of you around a few times before setting you back down on the beach.

You’re out of breath from running, and your hair is already untidy from the unexpected change of direction. The wind blows it just softly, letting it pull away from your face and neck. He tucks one rogue strand behind your ear, and then cups your face. You hadn’t even realized he’s been gloveless this entire time. You close your eyes and rest your cheek into him. You turn your head ever-so-slightly to kiss his palm, laying a sweet and innocent peck to his calloused skin.

You wonder if he’s hot with all that armor on. If you were too warm with a dress, only he knows what it’s like to have to spend summers so formally.

He’s the one to pull away, walking towards the water. You follow him, and the two of you stand against the tide. You kick your shoes off and pull your dress up again. Stepping into the water. You giggle at the tickle of the sand and smile at the feeling of the warm water against your ankles. He watches you fondly with his arms crossed. The water in Corellia is never this warm, and you throw your head back in bliss, breathing in the salty air. This was the happiest you had ever been since you arrived in Mandalore. The break from all the rules and customs was very needed, and you soaked in the sound of the waves, a distant call of a gull, and the wind keeping your hair out of your face. The best part was the fact that you were experiencing it with the Knight. There is no other person you would rather spend this memory with. You bite your lip and close your eyes and you never want to leave, you want to stay here forever. You hear the sound of metal clinking behind you, and something heavy hitting the sand. You turn to look at the Knight, who had discarded most of his armor. His boots have been carefully set next to one another, and beside them were his pauldrons, wrist guards, thigh plates and breastplate. The chainmail was the next thing to be removed, leaving him in only the dark-brown underclothes. His trousers were heavy duty, covered in various pockets and made out of thick material, but his tunic was a thin material, still long sleeved, but flowy, allowing the fresh, summer breeze to run through the fabric. The two items of clothing were held together by a pair of black suspenders, and the entire ensemble made him oh so… human.

You had only seen him with all his armor on before, and witnessing his shell being removed was both humbling and inspiring. The armor added quite a bit of bulk to his stature, it rounded out his shoulders, boosted his posture, and broadened him out. That was the first thing you noticed about him on the first day you arrived, he was ample in size and it made you feel so primal and safe. Despite his smaller stature without the armor, he wasn’t one bit less attractive to you. He was still the same guy who you were slowly falling for and didn’t even know it. But as he cuffed up his trousers and rolled back his shoulders, you felt so comfortable in his presence. He wasn’t just a mass of armor and creeds and rules, no, he was just a man. He was a single father, a guy who doesn’t know the first thing about dancing, and a boy born across the world in the Nevarro frontier. He was just a man.

You couldn’t stop the warm feeling in your chest that came with this thought. Everything about him was far more simple than you initially thought.

He walked towards you, and you held out your hand for him to take. He laces his fingers with yours as he steps into the shallow water with you. Your dress drops, dipping into the water and getting wet but you can’t even be mad about it. Your smile is big as his hand tightly grasped yours, the two of you looking out at the horizon.

“When I was a boy-” he begins, his voice quiet, “I wanted to live on the sea. Join a ship crew and travel the waters. There was always something so adventurous about that thought.” He shares. You turn to look at him as he speaks, studying the contour of the helmet with your eyes.

“What stopped you?” You ask, not entirely sure if he would share, but this time he was the one to start the conversation, and you felt like he might this time.

He sighs, you see it, he turns to look at you, the two of you staring at one another as the temperature slowly dropped with the sun on the horizon. “I was orphaned when I was only five.” He shrugs, your heart breaks. “It was one of the Mandalorian wars that caused it.”

You can’t imagine what it’s like having to serve a kingdom so intimately when they were responsible for the death of your family. You give his hand a reassuring squeeze, letting him know that you’re here for him. “I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“It’s not your fault, it was so long ago I don’t really remember it.” He looks down at the water.

“Thank you, for sharing that with me.” You smile apologetically. You really did appreciate that he felt comfortable enough to share something so serious with you. While you were grateful that he had begun to open up to you, it still didn’t answer any of the questions about Mandalore’s past, and what Koska was referring to a few days ago. It didn’t tell you what his past job was and why he’s serving the royal family now. However, you supposed it didn’t really matter, not right now, not today.

After a little minute of listening to the waves, he reaches down into the water, picking up a flat, thin rock. He runs his pointer finger along the edge, outlining the shape before hatching it into the space between his index finger and thumb, reeling back, and flicking it out so it hopped over the water’s surface seven or eight times before falling in. You looked at him enchanted, like he had just expressed a magic trick to a bright-eyed child.

“How did you do that?” You ask in awe.

“You’ve never seen anyone skip a rock?” He asks. You slowly shake your head. You’ve been cooped up inside a wintry castle your entire life, of course you haven’t.

“Teach me.” You say a little too forcefully. He chuckles and looks down at the sand, looking for a pebble that might work. He bends down eventually, and picks out a similar looking rock to the original.

“So, you want a rock that’s thin and flat, like this one.” He shows you the sediment. You reach your hand out, taking it and outlining the edge of the stone with your finger similar to how he did. He walks behind you, sloshing in the water but eventually gaining position. He wraps his left arm around your waist, and cups your right hand which holds the rock in his. “Now, don’t throw it quite yet, okay?”

“Alright.”

“You’re gonna flick your wrist like this,” he motions both of your hands at the same time, pulling back and then shooting forward quickly. He does it two or three times before speaking up again. “You’ll use your pointer finger to pull back like the trigger on a crossbow, it will give the rock enough spin that it stays on top of the water.” He makes you do the motion along with him a few times again. “Your shoulders will draw back almost like you’re pulling back an arrow on a bow.” Again, he does the motion with you, your back flush to his chest. You admired that he was able to relate everything to weaponry. He definitely knew his way around combat, that was apparent to you. “Then, you add all three motions together, aim for the horizon, and-“ he pulls back with you and before you know it, the rock is spiraling out of your hand and onto the surface of the ocean. It doesn’t skip, though, and instead plops right into the water.

You frown and look back at him. “What did I do wrong?” You ask, you knew he would know what needed to change.

“You didn’t flick your finger enough. Try again.” He pulls another stone out with a grunt, and holds you against his body to pull back and send another rock out. This one skips once before plopping into the water again. You sigh out, frustrated. “Here, try without me.” He says after handing you a third flat stone. You carefully practice the motion once, desperately wanting to impress him. You then pull back and give it everything you got, only for the stone to plop in without skipping at all again.

“Ugh, lemme try again.” You say angrily. You can hear him laughing at you, but you ignore it, ready to try again and determined to get it right this time.

You must have thrown four more rocks after that with no results. Each time he tried giving you just a little more advice about different things, “Follow through” or “You had too much spin that time”. You were starting to get really frustrated, having never had to really work for anything in your life before, and you knew he was starting to have a hard time finding flat rocks. You would not give up on this.

“Maybe we can try again next time-“

“No.” You say forcefully, “We do not leave this beach until I skip a damn rock, so if you want to be back in time for your evaluation with Vizsla, I suggest you find me another rock.” You raise an eyebrow as you pull out your diplomatic royal voice. He holds his hands back in defense and then tosses you the stone he already had waiting for you. You sigh when you catch it, taking a deep breath and remembering all your training. Don’t spin too much, follow through, add all three motions together, have faith.

You pull back the stone, praying that it will all go according to plan because you aren’t sure how much longer you can take failure. You pick out your target with your eyes before adding together all the advice given to you and sending it. You can hardly believe your eyes when you see it skip at least five times over the water. You cheer out in accomplishment and look over at the Knight, smiling big and triumphant. He runs through the water to you, shouting with you.

“I knew you could do it!” He grabs your waist, congratulating you. You giggle out of achievement. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He asks.

You roll your eyes and playfully punch his arm (which luckily this time was not covered by pain-inflicting chainmail). “A lot easier than having to dodge your hits.” You admit.

“I’m proud of you.”

“It’s just a rock skip?” You wonder why he would be proud of you for that and ask yourself if you really are that pathetic.

“Yes but you put your mind to it and did it! I know some guys in the royal guard who would have given up on their third try, but you didn’t!”

“I was just trying to impress you.” You sheepishly chuckle.

“We’ll consider myself: Impressed.” He laughs and you blush.

“They don’t teach royals that.”

“Well of course not, I learned how to do that from the guy who took me in after my parents died. You picked it up much faster than I did.” He nods and you smile again.

The two of you catch your breath from the exuberant laughing, but you aren’t able to enjoy the still moment because all too quick it all comes crashing down quickly when he’s pushing you into the water. It isn’t very deep, but the unexpected soak makes you yelp out in surprise. Your initial reaction is to be frustrated, but you can hear him chuckling by your side and you can’t help but mischievously smiling in response. He’s standing, still dry with a hand over his stomach as he laughs at you. You roll your eyes before reaching up to pull him in with you, he yelps out stupefied as he’s splashing down into the tide next to you. You laugh out at him, sitting up in the water which is about waist deep. He wipes some water away from his visor and then splashes you, swatting a handful of the ocean at your face. Your laughing immediately halts from a mouthful of salt water. Your slight makeup washes off, and your hair is starting to get wet, too. You look over at him with a frown before copying his action and spraying him right back. He laughs at you, and you remember that you can’t win this. He has a helmet to keep his eyes clear from the water. You groan out of frustration, and wipe your eyes dry. He’s just looking at you, panting. His clothes were soaked now. You crawl to be closer to him in the water, which thank goodness it wasn’t too cold because you’d be rushing to get out, but the summer weather made it enjoyable to just sit there together.

[SMUT BEGINS HERE]

You’re next to him, running your fingers lightly up and down his right arm, looking at him fondly. He catches his breath, and brings his wet hand up to cup your face again. You close your eyes, hoping he takes the hint, which he does because a few seconds have your eyes are closed, his arm his pulling away from your touch against it and his lips are pressing into yours. You can tell he completely took the helmet off this time, which means he would take his time kissing you instead of a quick peck to shut you up.

The two of you sit in the water of the Mandalorian Ocean, both of his hands reaching up to hold you as he kisses each eyelid as if to say “keep ‘em closed”, before moving to your lips passionately. His left hand holding your cheek while his right hand finds its place on the back of your neck, pulling you into him. You breathe deeply as he practically devours you, his lips moving hungrily. Your hands find their way to his thighs in the water, running your palms up and down the strong muscle, making sure to take notice of the healing wound on his upper-thigh. Your hands eventually find their way to the waistband of his pants, running your fingers under them to pull out the tuck of the tunic. Fingernails come out of the water and up soft abs that flinch at the stroke. It’s hard to work around the suspenders, but you’re able to still run your hands over his torso, getting to know his body for the first and hopefully not the last) time. He has a few scars, you can feel the fresh tissue under your fingers and wonder what caused them. He’s still kissing you, his left hand moves down to hold your jaw and you keep your eyes tightly shut out of fear of this ending too quickly. The kissing noises are obscene, wet and needy amongst the sound of the waves. The Knight licks into your mouth, his tongue hot and forceful as it explores your mouth, you can taste the lust on his lips, and you happily welcome the sensation.

His right hand works around the way your gown has flared out in the water and eventually wraps itself around your ass, pulling you up onto his lap. You’re mostly out of the water now, just your shins being completely submerged. You’re slightly weighed down by the added weight of a wet skirt, but you sit comfortably on the guards lap, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck, kissing him from above now. The kiss is forced down, and this time you’re able to lick into his mouth, nibbling his lip and deepening the kiss further from the angle. You can’t help your hands from cupping his face now, pulling him into you.

Your noses rub into one another, and both of his arms lift you up from behind. Your back arches into him, and your breathing hitches, getting heavier and hotter. He starts to get hard, you feel it under your body, and a mixture of the kissing and the pressure beginning to press into your cunt is really starting to turn you on. You start to just softly grind against him, moaning a little bit at the feeling of his growing cock against your heat. His hands help you, making the humping motion more smooth and natural. The kissing becomes sloppy now, and the water from the wet bodice is making your nipples just that much harder.

Your hands are reaching down to slide the suspenders off his shoulders, and then you’re pulling his shirt up and unhooking the trousers. Your hand is reaching in and finding the base of his hardening, thick length. He groans at your touch, and you’re bending down to kiss his neck, sucking deep, purple hickeys into his golden skin. You’re needy, still grinding against him and trying not let the water slow you down. He’s sighing breathy moans and grunts in your ear as you start jerking him off. The water does make it hard, but there’s something about the added sensation of the flowing water that really made it unique. You swipe your thumb over the head a few times, getting drunk with the unexpected control you have. This was the first time the two of you have fooled around that you really got to have total dominance. You liked it… you really liked.

He did too.

Your clit is able to rut so slightly and deliciously into your fist and his cock, and you’re having a hard time not letting your eyes open and flutter in pleasure. The same shocks of ecstasy ran up and down your spine, and he held you closer to his body, using his strong hands to cup your ass and knead the soft skin. You’re panting, your free hand reaches down to rub your clit, both of your hands working in between your legs as you straddle the Knight. You’re going to cum already and can’t believe it’s happening so fast but choose not to hold it back. You’re moaning out loud when you cum against your fingers, graining against his lap fast and squeezing his cock a little harder.

“Fuck, did you just cum?” He asks deep in his voice, growling in your ear. You hum out in response against his neck pathetically, and all dominance you previously possessed dissolves as you keep jerking off your Knight. “Dirty girl, kiss me. Keep those pretty eyes closed.” His throat is dry, which you remember from last time that that means he’s close, too. You reach up to kiss him again, going in tongue first and breathing in his scent deeply. One of his hands reaches around to cup yours that is working his length, holding it and adding pressure and then making you go faster, you happily oblige and soon the pace is quick and he’s grunting against your lips. He cums in your hand, you feel the heat of it. He’s panting and sighing and it’s all so hot you think you could get turned on by it again.

He rests his head on your shoulder after cumming, catching his breath. You take your hand out of the water and you tangle your fingers through his hair, toying with the curls as he sighs against your wet skin. You open your eyes now, looking out at the horizon, lashes heavy with lust.

[SMUT ENDS HERE]

“Gross.” You chuckle.

“You liked it.” He hums against your collar bone. His hands are steadfast on your lower back, holding you there against his chest. He doesn’t have the cold breastplate separating the two of you, so your hearts were pressed against one another, beating in perfect synch. You could also finally feel how warm his body was, despite the wet clothes and gentle waves. In your peripheral, you can see some of the brown curls.

Your heart warms, this might be the happiest you have ever been. The two of you must have sat like that for a long time because your skin was starting to prune and your hair was slowly drying with the wind. His breathing had completely calmed, and he was so still and quiet that just for a moment you wondered if he had fallen asleep. The sun was almost down completely, only a little sliver of it peaking over the water. You watched it as it fell to its resting place in the ocean, the sky still blazing oranges and yellows but cooling with a soft, pale blue from the top down. It was so… serene, so peaceful. Nothing like the crashing waves of Corellia. This was the best part of Mandalore yet. It’s saving grace.

The crescent moon is on the horizon when he’s turning to kiss your ear one more time and asking you to close your eyes as he pulls the helmet back on.

“We should probably get back, I don’t want to be late for Vizsla and I’m afraid I’ve started to lose track of time.” He stands up and holds his hand out for you to take. You attempt to hoist yourself up out of the water, but the wet dress has added so much weight that you can’t lift your legs up. You grunt in effort, but there’s no budging. “Huh, looks like we need to take that thing off.”

“Again?” You look up at him, you knew he had a smug smirk under all that beskar. You reach behind you to undo the corset just enough for you to step out of it, water dripping from your undergarment as he yanks you up and out of the warm water. “I’m starting to think you just really like seeing me naked.” You mutter and don’t realize how close you were to him while saying that until after. You catch your tongue, holding your breath as he looks down at you.

“Yeah, something like that.” He mumbles in response and you believe you could faint and die right then and there. He doesn’t let the moment stew for nearly as long as you would have liked for it, however and he’s pulling the sopping wet dress out of the water and carrying it back on shore. He hands it to you when he gets to his armor, and you try ringing some of the liquid out from the fabric but it’s almost too heavy for you to even hold in your arms. He re-assembles his gear on top of the wet clothes and you know that can’t be comfortable. Sand clings to your bare, wet feet, and you're desperately trying to brush some of it off before slipping your shoes back on. He’s resituated too fast, he has dressing his armor down to a perfection and you’re sad to see your beach adventure come to a close so quickly.

Before you know it, he’s walking up the hill again with you by his side, making your ways to Clove who has been diligently and patiently chewing on the grass in the field this entire time.

“Ride with me.” You ask as he helps you onto the palomino. “Please.” You ask. “We’ll get to the palace faster and then maybe you can get out of those wet clothes before you have to go to the meeting.” You ask. He sighs but then nods with a shrug, hoisting himself onto the horse behind you. You were riding normally now, and situated yourself comfortably into his chest. The wet gown lay on the back of the horse and you wished you had thought about removing that before getting into the water.

As the two of you start a gentle gallop to the palace, you feel your hair get drier. At one moment he reaches his hand up to run bare fingers over your healing bicep.

“We should have kept this out of the water.” He says in your ear. You twist your head back to reply.

“It’s okay, really. It’s starting to feel a lot better.” You reassure.

“It looks better, but the salt water can only do bad things to it.” He explains. You shrug, unsure of how he expects you to respond.

The three of you arrive at the castle just as the sky begins to darken, both of you still damp from the ocean but your hearts still full and bodies still riding the orgasm high. The Knight helps you off the horse, and now that you aren’t alone, you feel very aware that you’re only in your undergarments and really anyone could see you. You pull the wet gown off the rump of Clove, which was so saturated that it made his fur wet. You hold it against your body, trying to cover yourself up as much as possible. The Knight removes the saddle of the horse, storing it away and removing the bit. He stretches the beast’s ears and then walks over to the far side of the stable to grab a carrot out of a bucket before handing it to Clove as a reward for his hard work. You watch him as he expertly takes care of the animal, like he’s done it a thousand times before.

Then, with no warning, the two of you hear the shrill voice of none other than Koska Reeves.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.” She’s crossing over the dirt courtyard to the stables. Her hair has been done now, put up into the customary braids they usually are in. She was now wearing the royal blue color reserved for the Queen’s court, a golden sash sitting on her hips. She held the dress above her feet and she hustled in your direction. You felt scared, you knew Koska meant business, and was not afraid to scold. She was intimidating, to say the least. “You’re soaking wet.” She gasps when she gets to the stable fence. “Come with me, Princess. We must get you changed before anyone sees you or the Queen will have my head.” She sighs, opening the gate for you to walk through. “As for you, Vizsla’s here early.”

“What.” You heard the drop in his voice from panic. “Why?”

“No one knew, he just arrived before we could do any regular welcoming. The evaluation is starting in ten minutes, I suggest you move your ass.” She shakes her head. You were incredibly thankful you had both rode Clove now. He wouldn’t have made it back in time if you hadn’t. You did feel a twinge of guilt, however. You shouldn’t have pushed for that so much and risked him missing his mandatory meeting. But an overwhelming part of you was more than happy that you got to experience those few hours alone with him. He swears under his breath before bowing to you, shrugging apologetically and then full sprinting towards the servant quarter’s entrance. “I would take that from you,” Koska says in reference to the wet dress, “But I’m already in my ceremonial dress. I can’t get it wet. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I can manage.” You nod. The two of you begin to walk back inside, and the night time breeze runs over your wet body, making you shudder ever-so-slightly. When you get back inside, the Knight is nowhere to be seen, and there’s only a fraction of the people as there were earlier. The masks had all been moved somewhere, which let you know they finished them. A mother sat on a chair by the fireplace, nursing a small baby and three young boys who couldn’t be any older than seventeen all sat around one table playing some type of card game and eating buttered bread. They were the stable boys. The three of them stared at you when you walked in, in awe of your unparalleled beauty and the fact that you were carrying a massive, heavy, wet dress.

Koska led you down a hall adjacent to the fireplace. You could see into a few sleeping quarters. The little ones were dozing off, and in one room was a couple laughing together. The small community that existed underneath the palace was something you deeply admired. You wouldn’t have had any idea any of this was here if you hadn’t pushed for today’s events, and you truly loved it. You loved how all these people found refuge and a home here.

You wished you could, too.

Koska stops at one door, taking the wet dress out of your hands and tossing it into the room before closing the wooden door shut and progressing back down the hallway. She eventually opens up a door to a small room with a single bed and large chest.

“Is this your room?” You ask, looking around and familiarizing yourself with it. A single embroidery hoop with a half-done pattern sat on the bed, on the windowsill was a melting candle whose wax had dried in a cascading pattern on the ancient stone, and at the foot of the bed was a small table with a wash basin and hairpins.

“No, It’s my sister’s. My room is closer to the Queen’s.” She nods. You had no clue Koska had a sister. She opens up the chest and pulls out a dry under-slip and simple but pretty purple dress. It wasn’t a ballgown and had long, bell sleeves in a similar fashion to Koska’s. There was some moon and star embroidery on the bodice.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” You said, starting to shiver a little now.

“Her name is Alva, she works in the kitchen.” She nods as she crosses over to the table, opening up a little box to pull out a horse-hair comb.

“Will she mind us using her things?”

“Well, you’re the Princess, so I hope not.” She shrugs and crosses over the room again like a madwoman, pulling a wool blanket from the chest. “Here, strip and dry off.” You look at her, confused. “Alright… I’ll turn around then.” Koska rolls her eyes and turns to face the wall. You peel off the wet slip, and use the wool material to wipe your body dry. It wasn’t nearly as soft and luxurious as the cotton robes you have five floors up, but it will do for now. You have sand everywhere, and you mean everywhere. You brush it off as best you can, hoping it doesn’t make too much of a mess for anyone to have to clean. You then pull on the dry clothes, and clear your throat when you’re done and decent.

Koska turns around and smiles. “Sit, I’ll brush your hair for you and then escort you back upstairs to see your parents.”

You had completely forgotten that they would be arriving tonight. You get a twinge of adrenaline. You’ve been so homesick, and it will be nice to see some familiar faces after such an emotional two weeks. You sit at the stool in front of the table, and Koska carefully combs out your knotted but drying hair.

“So… It looks like you two had fun.” She says. You smile and blush.

“Yes, we did.” You chuckle.

“That’s good, it’s been so long since he’s had fun. He deserves it.” She hums in response and you immediately question how they know one another so well again.

“How do you know each other?” You ask, knowing there's no harm in that.

Koska sighs, “We… used to work together in a sense. He’s a good man, an even better father.” She shrugs. So that’s four people you can think of who know about his son, You, Koska, Peli and the woman from Isla’s bar… although that situation seemed different, magical almost.

“You two never…” You trail off, not really wanting to hear the answer but not stopping yourself before you ask it anyways.

Koska laughs out loud this time, stopping the combing motion, “Oh stars, no. Never. I have someone else… and he has you.”

Your heart warms at that phrase. “Who is this ‘someone else’ you speak of?” You ask, enjoying the casual girl talk the two of you are sharing.

She hums again, “You’ve met her, she’s shorter than me and far more serious, she has a fire burning, but she’s special to me.” You can hear the smile in Koska’s tone.

You wonder who she’s talking about.

—

Taglist: @remmysbounty @snow30285 @what-iwish-you-knew @carbonated-beverage @frogllady @baileys-corner @song-of-sea-and-sky @leaiorganas @weirdowithnobeardo @ginger-swag-rapunzel @bewitchedbodyandsol @mograh @justavolcano @theokatz @lowkeytesss @hallway5 @dat-girl-in-corner @news4bees @istealyof00d @songofcosplay @waffles4lif3 @mcueveryday @310ra @thatonedindjarinfan @songofseraphine @callmekane @theelilbritt @bbwithaknife @firstofficerwiggles @jedi-jesi @ironbabey @minttchipp @bel-ppa @honey-hi @cp11 @venomous-ko @bbwithaknife @lunatic-sunsets @1800-fight-me @foundtheavacados @elphabaforpresidentofgallifrey @florenceivy @theanothersherlockian @spideysimpossiblegirl

“If you are included in the taglist, you are expected to interacted with the post you are tagged in (ex. Reblogs, comments and notes), if I notice that you are not interacting with the applicable post, you will be removed from the taglist”

—

307 notes · View notes

five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Danger First

Chapter 10

@pocketramblr :)

One day - and not even a whole day, because of travel time and Inko wanted Izuku home for dinner- simply wasn't enough time to master a quirk. Although he could turn Float on and off, now. So, they made plans to come back next week, and the next, up until the sports festival. Which. Wow. Really was only two weeks away.

Izuku had never realized how close to the beginning of the school year it was.

He was going to die.

"You're not going to die," said Mr. Yagi. "I'm not going to say the sports festival isn't important, because it is, it's one of the best ways to make professional connections for students, but not doing well isn't the end of the world, especially not in your first year. No one expects you to be perfectly polished."

"But," said Izuku, "I'm supposed to be the next you! I've got to stand out, right?"

Mr. Yagi looked very guilty. "I... may have given you that impression when we were first training, yes. But, since then, with all my research into the past holders... few of them were popular, flashy heroes. If you want to walk the same path as me, that's great. But you don't have to. Even I didn't really start that chapter of my life until after college."

Izuku looked down at his hands, letting silence fill the space between them as he contemplated Mr. Yagi's words. "This isn't about me manifesting One for All differently, is it?"

"What? No, no of course not, my boy. I mean, it certainly helped me come to this conclusion, I wouldn't have done so much research without it! But I certainly hope I would have come to the same conclusion eventually, even so."

"Okay..." said Izuku, still dubious.

"I mean it," protested Mr. Yagi. "Most of my work is essentially underground, you know. There's a reason the battle trial was what it was."

"H-huh? You? Underground? But you're so recognizable!"

"Am I? I firmly believe in bringing all my resources to bear in the fight against evil! Ha ha!"

His laugh devolved into a cough, and he fumbled for a handkerchief. But he recovered quickly enough.

"I guess that makes sense," said Izuku, cautiously, once he thought Mr. Yagi wasn't going to start coughing again.

"You didn't think I stayed number one by popularity alone, did you?"

"I- the formulas the Hero Commission uses to determine rankings are secret, and it only includes spotlight heroes, so when I extrapolated the hero billboard rankings, yes, I assigned a high weight to popularity. There were always some discrepancies between my predictions and the end results, but I figured I missed some events, or the commission assigned them different values…"

"That's quite impressive, my boy. But, though popularity is a factor, the HPSC does take unpublicized fights and rescues into account. Assuming you report them…"

That was the second time Mr. Yagi had mentioned not telling the commission something.

"Do you, um, do you do that a lot? Not tell the commission things, I mean."

"Eh? No, no, I try to stay up on my paperwork. I get a lot of help from Naomasa, though. Some heroes, especially independent ones, without an agency, do have trouble keeping up, sometimes."

"It's just… the other day you said something about not telling the commission about All for One."

"Ah," said Mr. Yagi. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "You're quite right. How should I put this… The HPSC knows All for One exists, and I have made them generally aware of his modern exploits. I haven't told them about his ability to give quirks, though they may know through other avenues, there are certain battles I've had with him that I haven't told them about, and they do not know about One for All."

“Why not?”

“Villains aren’t the only ones who seek power,” said Mr. Yagi. “The HPSC provides a vital service, and I think what one does matters more than why one does it, but… it is my observation that many of the people there are more concerned with personal power than doing the right thing. And positions of power and authority tend to draw in those who would abuse those things."

"Even heroics?"

"Especially heroics. The HPSC Ethics Review Board is supposed to stop that, but no system is perfect." He shook himself. "But look at me! I was trying to give you a pep talk, not saddle you with doubts about the government!"

Izuku laughed, nervously. "I mean, you've definitely distracted me from the sports festival…"

“Yes. The sports festival. Don’t worry about making a big spotlight combat debut. If you want to focus on rescue, or investigation, or the underground, I’ll support you all the way.” He paused. “You do need combat, though, because, because of-”

“All for One?”

“Yes, exactly. All for One.”

“Way to kill the mood, guys,” said Banjo.

“I think the mood was thoroughly dead already,” said Yoichi.

“Unlike your brother,” said En. “Ninth’s father.”

“Come on, it was just a little omission of information. It wasn’t even a lie!”

“It was definitely a lie. You’re so lucky that my relief about you not being a pedophile eclipsed my righteous fury regarding your mendacity.”

“You know, the fact that you’re delivering that completely deadpan gives me doubts about the fury part.”

“I’m mad at you.”

“You love me.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be mad at you.”

“Hey, hey, wait a minute,” said Nana, making a ‘T’ shape with her hands. “Time out. Ninth’s father is All for One.”

“Yes,” said Yoichi, hanging his head, “I thought that had been established.”

“So, are we… What Toshinori is saying is completely valid, by the way… but, are we expecting this kid to fight his father? Is that a thing we’re doing?”

“Uh,” said Yoichi, “in our defense, we did think he was dead.”

“Maybe Eighth will get ‘im before Ninth has to deal with it,” suggested Banjo. “He’s got to have a better chance of that, now what with Fa Jin and all.” He paused. “But, you know what would give Ninth an even better chance, if he does have to fight his deadbeat dad-”

“He’s not a deadbeat,” interrupted Hikage.

“What?”

“Calling him a deadbeat would imply that he is neither supporting the Midoriyas financially nor regularly in contact with them. He is on both counts.”

“What?” squealed Bango.

“Did you miss his phone call with his father immediately following his return home after the USJ attack?”

“Oh,” said Yoichi, “no, I was very aware of my brother’s evil, evil voice. It’s just that these guys were too focused on scolding me to listen to anything I had to say. I still can’t believe he sent someone like that to attack his own son’s class.”

“Didn’t he, like, kill you?” asked En.

“No, my death was largely unrelated. You’ve got to remember, I was a chronically ill fugitive from the law with no money. Who told you that he killed me?”

Everyone looked at their immediate predecessor. Yoichi tracked the path back to Third, who had gone very stiff.

“What the heck, Third? You were there when I died. Why would you tell Hikage that?”

Third did not answer.

“Actually, what did he tell you, Hikage?

“Oh, it was very moving and heroic. It happened while you were saving a busload of metahuman orphans. You sacrificed yourself to let them get away from All for One. I even cried a little.”

“Is it weird that I’m now disappointed in myself for not dying like that?”

“Very,” said Nana.

“What were we talking about before this?” asked En.

“I have no idea,” said Banjo.

Izuku delayed going to class, nervous about everyone's reactions to his quirk. It wasn't that he thought they'd reject him, but more that he had no answers for the inevitable questions.

But he also didn't want to be late.

"Todoroki was so cool!" Hagakure exclaimed as he opened the classroom door. "He was all like, blam, bam, swish! And- and he checked whether or not I was there first, before attacking, which was super cool of him."

Todoroki's expression was halfway between 'statue' and 'help, I've been hit by a truck.' "Cool?"

"Very cool."

"You've grown since the first day, kero."

"Ah! Midoriya!"

All heads turned towards him. In the next second, he was hugged by several people, which was more friendly skin contact than he'd had since… ever, probably.

"Eep," he said.

"We were so worried about you," said Uraraka. "We made a group chat, after, but since you were unconscious…"

"Hm," said Monoma, "your quirk still is definitely a stockpile…"

"Monoma!" shouted Iida. "Did you join this hug just to copy quirks?"

"And what of it?"

"But speaking of quirks," said Jiro, "you can fly now? We kind of went along with it at the time, but that's kind of different from a sensory quirk."

"I know," said Izuku, "and I have no explanation."

"Maybe your quirk stockpiles danger," said Monoma, contemplatively. He rubbed his chin with one finger. "That could be why you can sense danger- you're stockpiling it. Then, when the danger gets over a certain threshold, you can release it as flight… why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Oh, nothing," drawled Kaminari. "Just that you're more thoughtful than you look, pretty boy."

"I don't want to hear that from you."

"Th-thank you, Monoma! I'll have to mention it when I go to quirk counseling next."

Which may or may not be this afternoon, depending on how Mr. Aizawa felt and- His head snapped to the door. "Mr. Aizawa's coming!"

They all rushed to their seats. The door creaked open.

"Oh my gosh, he's a mummy."

"Iida?"

"What is it, Midoriya?"

They were having a bit of a break during English while Present Mic cycled them through for short sessions with Hound Dog.

"I didn't have a chance to ask you earlier, but how's your brother?"

“He’s alright! It’s the first really major injury of his career, so he’s going to take it easy for the rest of the month, to make sure his engines heal properly. He’d prefer not to of course, but, ah, there is a silver lining.”

“That’s good,” said Izuku, encouragingly.

“I really shouldn’t be happy about it,” said Iida, rubbing the back of his neck, “but he’ll be able to come see me during the sports festival, and he probably would have been too busy if he were active.”

“I think it’s okay to be happy about good things, even if they happen because of bad things,” said Izuku. “It isn’t like we can go back and make the bad things not happen, after all…”

“That’s very true, Midoriya! What a mature way of thinking about things.”

Izuku didn’t know about that, but he was willing to take the compliment.

“Midoriya,” said Shouta, who was absolutely and unquestionably recovered enough to teach. Even if he had zoned out in the corner of the room in his sleeping bag all morning rather than trekking back to the teacher’s lounge… or teaching any of his other classes… shut up. “What are you doing at the window?”

“O-oh. Mr. Aizawa. I didn’t know you were awake?”

It was, maybe, a little unfair to single Midoriya out like that, since the entire class was standing by the window, and the way Uraraka, Sero, and Midoriya were closest to it, with Monoma a close fourth, was concerning, but Midoriya was the first one Shouta saw, and the one most likely to to cave and tell him what was going on.

“Midoriya.”

“R-right. Well, going out the door seems a little unpleasant today, so we thought we’d switch it up?”

What did that even mean?

“We were going to bring you with us, of course,” continued Midoriya.

What did that even mean?

“Out the window.”

“Um. Yes.”

“What kind of unpleasant are we talking about?”

“Battle trial unpleasant?”

Shouta groaned and hauled himself up, walking over to the door. He looked out the window and made note of all the students from other classes standing out there, circling like sharks. Great. Maybe they needed to have an assembly about respecting boundaries or whatever, especially if the people whose boundaries were being crossed were potentially traumatized.

Something to bring up at the next staff meeting he attended. Which… would probably not be soon.

Anyway.

He opened the door.

(“A mummy,” whispered someone.)

(First his kids, then these kids… he wasn’t that wrapped up.)

(Was he?)

“What are you all doing here?” he asked, voice rasping rather more than he wanted it to.

The students didn’t seem inclined to answer. Someone did mutter something about the sports festival, but it was far from the complete answer that Aizawa wanted.

“Right. Whatever. Scoping out the competition is one thing, but you are aware that class 1-A is recovering from a traumatic experience. And you’re blocking traffic. Clear off.”

The crowd slowly dispersed. Shouta sighed. He knew this would only be the first of many such incidents. He made a note to talk to Nemuri about whether or not she’d be willing to donate some of her class time to talk about public relations.

“You know,” said Nemuri, “if you actually rested, Recovery Girl would be able to heal you.”

“I know nothing of the sort,” said Shouta, glaring at his desk in the staff room. “I’m forgetting something.”

All Might walked in. “Er, young Aizawa,” he said. He paused for a painfully long, awkward moment. “Are you still meeting with young Midoriya today?”

“Crap.”

Did Izuku expect Mr. Aizawa to come to their meeting? No. The man had casts on all of his limbs. But, he hadn’t cancelled it either. So, better safe than sorry, right?

But it had been a while, now. Izuku could probably safely assume he wasn't coming after a half hour. He got up, packed his bags, and reached out for the door handle-

Only to freeze as Mr. Aizawa yanked it open and pulled Mr. Yagi into the classroom after him.

Izuku scurried back to his seat.

"Nothing physical today," croaked Mr. Aizawa. "We're going to figure out your quirk."

“O-okay,” said Izuku.

Aizawa collapsed into the seat behind the teacher's desk. “To be short, this quirk, One for All or whatever, is complete nonsense.”

“Uh,” said Mr. Yagi. “Sorry?”

“Sorry,” whispered Izuku.

“You should be. Not you, Midoriya. You’re fine.”

“Okay?”

“Right. So. You’ve got two quirks right now. Danger Sense and Float. Unless something else showed up over the weekend?”

“No, it’s, um, it is just those two right now.”

“And you’ll most likely get Smokescreen, Blackwhip, and that strength enhancement eventually. Plus two mystery quirks.”

“That is what I’ve been able to find out,” said Mr. Yagi.

“So, we have to figure out some way to get all those under a coherent umbrella that can account for the mystery quirks, and before the sports festival, so the evil immortal supervillain doesn’t notice that you have quirks just like a bunch of people he had personal beef with.”

Mr. Yagi cursed in English. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Yeah, I wonder what else you haven’t thought about. Maybe this year I can get Nezu to take my suggestion about doing hero names before the sports festival seriously. You know we’ve had people stalk students before because for some godforsaken reason we use their real names? I need a drink.”

“Ah, water?”

“No.”

“Young Aizawa, you’re a teacher…”

“A career choice I question daily. Midoriya, do you have any thoughts about how to make your quirk make sense in a way that won’t get you killed or abducted by the HPSC?”

“I- Does that happen?” despite his conversation with Mr. Yagi over the weekend, he still had generally positive thoughts about the hero commission.

“I have no idea. Wouldn’t put it past them.”

“Well, um, I was talking to Monoma earlier, and he said something about stockpiling danger, and how it might let out the stockpile as the energy necessary to levitate- which, really, would be a fascinating quirk if it did work that way- but I thought it might also work for Smokescreen and the strength enhancement? I mean, general responses to danger are fight, flight, or hide, so the strength enhancement is fight, Float is flight, and Smokescreen would be hide…”

“That might work. What about Blackwhip.”

“Yeah, that one has kind of stumped me.”

“Blackwhip sure is a problem,” agreed Mr. Aizawa.

The ghosts started laughing. “You’re a problem, Banjo,” chortled Nana.

“Come on, guys, that isn’t funny!”

"It is! It's hilarious!"

"They were just talking about All for One tracking the kid down and killing him!"

The mood sobered quickly.

"Considering that he is Ninth's father," said Hikage, "I suspect it's far too late for that."

"Yeah," said Yoichi. "But, just to be safe, and in case there are other weirdos out there, new rule: no giving him new quirks in public. Not that we can do anything about when he eventually manifests the stockpile…"

"What if he's going to die?" asked Hikage, raising his hand.

"He already got your quirk, why do you care?"

"We'd like to hear it," said Banjo, somewhat forcefully.

"Well, if he looks like he's going to die, do whatever you can to stop that from happening, I guess. But chucking a quirk he doesn't know how to use isn't always going to be the beat answer."

"Wait," said Nana. "Hold up a second. A few days ago we were talking about the potential for multiple quirk brain damage, weren't we?"

"Oh, good catch," said Yoichi. "I guess I forgot to mention it, which means Nana is the only one I'd trust babysitting my nephew in the event a quirk rewound him to elementary school age-"

"That is a suspiciously specific scenario," said En.

"-and all the rest of you are fired. You didn't even question giving him more quirks? Really?"

Hikage raised his hand. "I assumed you had discovered that Ninth had a constitution capable of handling multiple quirks, similar to yourself and your brother."

"That is true. Okay, Hikage would be another exception, but he's disqualified from babysitting for other reasons."

"That's fair."

"So we need something that can do all that, and has tentacles," said Izuku, squeezing his bottom lip in thought.

"Yeah," said Mr. Aizawa. "Honestly, even really dumb ideas would be welcome right now."

"Why are you looking at me?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"You know why."

There was only one creature Izuku could think of that could do all the things Izuku one day might be able to while maintaining room for the two mystery quirks. "Cthulhu."

Mr. Yagi looked mildly scandalized at the suggestion.

"Nah, it'd have to be something like eldritch. Cthulhu's trademarked in Japan, and that can give you aboveground types trouble."

"What is it a trademark for?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"Ask Midnight. I don't want to talk about it."

"Ah," said Mr. Yagi.

"The problem with that is that you currently have no justification to call it that. Now if you already had Smokescreen…"

The adults looked at him.

"... I don't think it's going to just show up like that," said Izuku.

"Why not?" asked Banjo, staring at En. "They practically asked you for it."

"Well, first off, I live for drama, so jot that down."

"Huh? What about me?" asked Yoichi.

"Nothing, it was just an idiom. Second…"

"...Right," said Aizawa. “For now, then, we’ll have to give it a temporary name, because it’s starting to get to the point in time where it’ll actually be illegal for you to not register it.” He shuffled his casts. “Yagi, start filling out those forms with what he can do currently. Midoriya, make sure you check him when he’s done. For now, we’ve got to come up with a name.”

“Um,” said Izuku. “Float’s the only one that’s really visible, so I could just call it Float?”

“Vetoed. You aren’t picking a name that the immortal supervillain knows.”

“He did seem to only refer to people by quirks unless he really hated them,” said Mr. Yagi. “Except his brother, who he always called ‘my foolish brother.’”

“Focus on the paperwork.”

“And he called himself by his quirk name as well,” mused Izuku. “Do you think it was a side effect? Quirks have document impact on people’s personalities-”

“Focus.”

“R-right. Um. Feather Fall? No, that’s part of a game. Flight Reflex?”

“Good enough for now,” said Aizawa. “Flight Reflex it is.”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #danger first #danger first au #fic #fanfic

81 notes · View notes

ckneal · 3 years

Text

Sometimes I need to remind myself that not everyone watched Supernatural with an ongoing gen fic happening in their head, all about the family life of the angels before Chuck’s disappearance and the rise of humanity. And as such, not everyone was constantly compiling stray details thrown out about the angel characters, clustering them together into this rubber band ball of ideas that was just so fun to play with.

I mean, for instance, not everyone took in the way the other angel characters seemed to look down their noses at the cupid characters (who, it’s worth noting, are never once referred to by their individual names, but instead by the human pet name for their category of cherub [which in Lucifer’s case, was certainly framed as an unflattering term], despite Castiel once boasting that he knew everyone in Heaven), and reason to themselves that it was surely because the other angels were jealous. Because obviously, the cupids are given classified information from God himself about what bloodlines he wants to see continued and merged for the sake of his Plan, putting these silly, non-combatant angels on par with the archangels in terms of secret knowledge about what was to come. For the first couple billions of years of existence, while the other classes of angels were sitting around with nothing to do, they all had to watch the cupids happily zipping around the earth, cooing over blue-green algae and gradually coaxing different species into existence with their magic love arrows. And every time a significant milestone was reached, they also had to watch as the insipid little harbingers of love scooped the newborn creature up and raced over to the nearest archangel to excitedly show them their progress, like a little kid with their first art project. And the archangel in question, regardless of which one, would nod encouragingly and smile as the cupid in question babbled about the tiny, tiny lungs this fish had, or the beginnings of feet at the ends of its fins. Even Lucifer, who would also add the additional suggestion to try and give the next one more teeth.

Additionally, not everyone looked at the way that Lucifer was able to just insert himself into Sam’s head from inside the cage, and considered how Azazel needed to visit a specific geographic location to communicate with Lucifer, and even then was only just barely able to do so, and thus came to the conclusion that clearly Michael and Lucifer must have come to an agreement to pool their powers to project Luci’s image into Sam’s head. Which explains why Sam’s special link disappears right after leaving the cage, and also why Michael didn’t interfere when Lucifer was freed, even though season 15 makes it clear that Luci did not sneak quietly out the backdoor. Michael was fully aware who was responsible for the jailbreak, thus leading us to consider that perhaps Lucifer was supposed to turn around and free Michael and Adam in turn, but did not. Thus leading us to imagine Michael spending roughly a year (Earth time) tapping his foot in the cage, until . . .

“He’s not coming back for us, is he?”

And Adam, cracking open a molecule-flavored soda (manifested courtesy of Michael), snickers. “Nope. Told you not to trust him.”

“Right. . .” Michael exhales, looks around for a moment, settles on side-eyeing Adam. Then, with an air of ‘fuck it’ says, “Want to make out?”

And Adam promptly chokes on his soda.

And not everyone heard Metatron specifically say that he personally tattooed the names of every prophet of the Lord ever on the inner eyelids of every angel, and immediately had the thought, “Poor Michael” spring to mind. Because of course Michael was the first one on the proverbial chopping block, trying his best not to flinch as his little brother gradually figured out how to handle the needle. (To this day, Michael is still not sure if the prophet after Chuck Shurley is named Kevin Tran or Rovim Frun). And all the while, Michael was probably also trying his best not to worry about how things were going on Earth while he was busy getting his eyes stabbed.

After all, Lucifer was God’s second eldest son, barely younger than Michael in the grand scheme of things. He could handle watching over their younger siblings for a little while. And Raphael and Gabriel were there to help. Everything would be fine.

However, Michael isn’t aware that about five minutes after being left in charge, Lucifer yelled, “HEY EVERYONE, CHECK THIS OUT!” And then promptly threw his grace into the body of a nearby pterodactyl. Possession being a new ability that Chuck had recently invented, the surrounding angels were mystified as Lucifer piloted the prehistoric reptile through a series of dizzying loop-de-loops that saw the poor creature—not suited to containing angel grace—explode midway through, leaving Lucifer gleefully giggling in the sky.

About half of the angels looking on gaped in horror.

Gabriel whispered to Raphael, “We’re still beta testing that, right?”

The other half of the gathered angels, however, like the impressionable young followers that they are, start grinning, because Lucifer is grinning, and he’s their cool older brother, and as Lucifer—relishing the attention—makes a beeline toward the earth’s one continent, Pangea, and an unsuspecting herd of ornithopods, these younger angels eagerly follow.

Soon, Earth is full of the anguished cries of cupids, watching their hard work blown to bits again and again. Swept up in the crowd, are Castiel and Balthazar. They watch Uriel and Zachariah excitedly throw their armored dinosaur bodies against one another in the moments before both vessels combust, after which Uriel and Zachariah excitedly dart off to take on new ones.

“Are we sure this is. . .okay?”

“Well, Lucifer is in charge. We’re supposed to follow his lead. . .aren’t we?”

Meanwhile, Raphael is frantically trying to stem the carnage. Several dinosaurs are levitating in mid-air, as Raphael tries to simultaneously keep them from exploding while also ordering the angels possessing them to vacate the vessels immediately. But none of them have ever taken a vessel before, and do not know how to get out of them without tearing them apart. Raphael keeps expanding their powers to more and more creatures as their young siblings continue to follow Lucifer’s example.

“GABRIEL, DO SOMETHING!”

“RIGHT!” Gabriel looks around, locates Lucifer running amuck in an apatosaurus that he’s forcing to walk on its hind legs, and fires off a lightning bolt to startle him out.

The lightning bolt misses its target in spectacular fashion, and several trees catch on fire.

Gabriel throws another lightning bolt.

“GABRIEL, THAT IS NOT HELPING!”

“RIGHT!”

Gabriel then grabs a giant meteor from outer space and begins trying to smother the flames by whacking it against the continent, to Raphael’s horror. More cupids begin to cry. Thick clouds of dust fly up, choking out natural light on the planet’s surface—now only illuminated by flames, as well as the magma that rises up out of the cracks that form in Pangea, as Gabe unintentionally creates the first tectonic plates from the sheer force of his assault on the planet.

Trees fall over. Fire continues to spread.

Lucifer is still in the apatosaurus, but he’s fallen onto his side, laughing hysterically.

“WATER, GABRIEL! USE WATER!”

“OH! RIGHT!”

Gabriel throws the meteor into a nearby sea, creating a tsunami.

It is at this point that Raphael abandons the dinosaurs to their sad fate, forgetting their solemn oath to not reveal any secrets regarding evolution and God’s plan, to broadly yell out to any and all of their angelic siblings who are listening, “QUICKLY, SAVE THE MAMMALS!”

And it is at this point, that Michael returns. Samandriel, clutching a dozen or so rodents in his wings, is the first one to spot him. All of Michael’s eyes are red and puffy from abuse. The cupids are sobbing, the Earth is battered, flooded, and scorched. Angels are getting into fist fights with reapers as they dart back and forth, trying to ferry as many warm-blooded creatures as they can find from the site of the catastrophe to the relative safety on the other side of the mountain range Gabriel accidently made when he bashed a crater into the planet—relative, as it turns out some of those new mountains are in fact volcanoes, and it took some trial and error to figure out how far away from an active volcano could be considered “safe.”

Nearby, Castiel and Balthazar are somehow both stuck inside the same mosasaur, beached from the tsunami, and loudly panicking as they struggle to de-possess it before it explodes. There’s a snapping sound, and then suddenly all of the angels still trapped (or willfully frolicking) inside vessels are ejected, at the same time that the fire goes out and the volcanoes cease erupting.

Consequently, everyone goes very still as Michael scans the damage and his bedraggled siblings. With humans not yet existing, the art of facepalming is not yet a thing. But looking at Michael, one might just expect him to invent the practice right then and there.

When Michael gets to Lucifer, he’s greeted with, “What? Pop’s 86-ing the lizard kingdom anyway!”

Michael promptly drags Lucifer off to Heaven.

The next day, it was made an official rule, written into the very fabric of angelkind: vessels could only be taken after obtaining explicit consent.

Additionally, everyone agreed to never, ever mention the existence of the dinosaurs or how they ended ever again. And, rather than fixing the damage to the Earth’s surface, the tectonic plate situation was just sort of left to do as it would.

Many, many years later, Adam was shocked by Michael’s reaction when the cage door suddenly swung open in Hell. Adam had immediately surged to his feet in excitement, ready to leave and never come back.

Michael, however, remained stationary on the floor, squinting at the doorway, wondering what dystopian nightmare must be waiting on Earth after leaving his siblings unsupervised for a solid decade.

“Michael? You okay?”

“Adam, before we go back to Earth, I think I need to tell you a story. . .”

#himbos all of them #except raphael #raphael's doing their best but there's only one of them #the divine shurley family #is this really what i'm putting out on the midam wedding day?#yep guess so #i just didn't get any good wedding thoughts today #all i could think about was how michael was once a very exhausted older brother #today was not a romantic day for me #but it was chaotic #and i have expressed myself #and raphael deserves a raise #midam #supernatural michael #my thoughts #What did the rest of you guys even do to get through the boring seasons if you weren't imaging stuff like this?

80 notes · View notes

ibijau · 3 years

Text

You’re a marked man, brother, part 5 (end) / also on AO3

With everything over, Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue move forward

After returning to the Heavenly Court, Lan Xichen, Lan Wangji, and Nie Mingjue had to report to the Jade Emperor what they had discovered about Jin Guangyao. This, in turn, created a great deal of chaos to be dealt with, and a number of heavenly officials were demoted as a result of this reveal. No matter how clever Jin Guangyao had been, no matter how powerful the fate changing spell and the curse laid on Nie Huaisang, it would have been impossible for Jin Guangyao to remain in place for this long without anyone noticing. In the days that followed his death, a number of his former friends, his subordinates, and at least one higher ranking civil god were revealed to have at least suspected he didn’t belong in the Heavenly Court, and to have profited from his position to scheme and get away with corruption.

There was a trial.

Aside from those former associates forced to confess their crimes, Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen were also called to explain what they had discovered, and the circumstances of those discoveries. To recount these events in front of their peers, to explain how they had both been tricked into betraying someone they’d loved as dearly as Nie Huaisang, was a true torture.

When it was over, when the emperor had given his judgement and they were free at last, Nie Mingjue took Lan Xichen to his palace. Truly, Lan Xichen had barely stepped inside his own home the whole time. He couldn’t bear to be there and see marks of Jin Guangyao’s presence, constant reminders of how he had been so thoroughly fooled. It wasn’t that they hadn’t all three made memories in Nie Mingjue’s palace as well, but Lan Xichen felt the sting of betrayal a little less strongly there.

Still, it was the first time the two of them were alone since everything unfolded, and for the first time in their long acquaintance Lan Xichen felt uncomfortable as they sat together, Nie Mingjue pouring wine for both of them. Lan Xichen didn’t normally drink, but on that day he decided an exception might be needed.

“So,” Nie Mingjue said when he sat as well, glaring at his cup of wine. “You and Huaisang.”

Shivering slightly, Lan Xichen put down his own cup of alcohol. Perhaps drinking would be unwise after all. He'd known they couldn't avoid that conversation forever, so why not get it over now, when they'd already exposed so much of themselves?

“Me and Huaisang,” he confirmed in a whisper, nodding slowly.

“How long…”

“It happened after you ascended,” Lan Xichen explained, only to wince as he realised this might not sound good. “There was something before as well, but we became lovers after you ascended. It would have happened even if you hadn’t left, I think. That just… precipitated things.”

Lan Xichen remembered Nie Huaisang so cheerful in public, so happy for his brother and involved in those early efforts to get him followers, who once broke into tears in his arms when they were alone because he just missed Nie Mingjue so much. Lan Xichen had offered him all the comfort he could give, and Nie Huaisang had seized his chance to change things between them… not that Lan Xichen had put up much resistance anyway.

“I had offered to take him to the Middle court,” Nie Mingjue said in a low, threatening voice. “The instant I ascended, I came back for him, and he refused. Was it because…”

Lan Xichen quickly shook his head. "No!" he exclaimed, and instantly Nie Mingjue relaxed. “I wouldn't have asked him to stay for my sake. I offered as well,” he said, his chest constricting at the memory. He’d first seen his own brother of course, but his second trip back to the mortal world had been for his lover. “He also refused. He said he wanted to take care of your father, especially since things had started going bad.”

That moment haunted Lan Xichen, ever since their encounter with the Magpie King. It had been their last time together, and he could see himself, in his newly ascended glory, lying in bed with Nie Huaisang’s head on his shoulder, warm and comfortable and nearly happy, save for Nie Huaisang rejecting his offer. He hadn’t known then how bad things had become for his lover, hadn’t known about the rumours, about the true state of old master Nie’s mental health. He just knew that Nie Huaisang had laughed and said he wasn’t ready yet to give up on mortal life, that he needed to be a dutiful son, that he’d miss his mother too much, and his little pet birds as well.

“I should have insisted,” Lan Xichen sighed, staring at the cup of wine he dared not drink. “If I had insisted, perhaps I could have saved him and he wouldn’t have become…”

He trailed off, thinking of the Magpie King’s disgust over their accidental betrayal, of him demanding their deaths, rejecting the idea of reconciliation. To think his A-Sang, mischievous but kind heart, could have become such a person…

“I should have insisted as well,” Nie Mingjue said. “But that kid was stubborn as a mule, and I’ve always spoiled him.”

He served himself more wine, which he drank too quickly.

"He was begging when I killed him, you know," Nie Mingjue whispered, sounding haunted. "At the time I couldn't even hear what he was saying, couldn't recognise who he was, just a stranger who'd come into my house and killed my family. But now I realise, now I can remember what I didn't hear back then, and he was begging me for mercy.” He drank some more. “Thought I was angry at him for killing father, for not saving everyone. He thought I hated him, and then I murdered him.”

Lan Xichen shivered. He hadn’t been there that day, but he remembered the memory the Magpie King had shown them. He wished he hadn't been made to see that. Nie Huaisang, desperate and broken… that wasn't how Lan Xichen would have preferred to remember him.

“I can’t touch Baxia anymore,” Nie Mingjue confessed. “I’m so out of balance, I think she’d turn on me if I so much as looked at her.”

Unsure what to answer, Lan Xichen said nothing. He thought that Baxia, having once beheaded Nie Huaisang without hesitation, would have no right to judge Nie Mingjue now… but that wasn’t how sabre worked. At that time, Nie Mingjue had been absolutely convinced to be in the right, and that was all that mattered to Baxia. Now he was full of doubt, and the sabre would have hated to be yielded with uncertainty.s

Lan Xichen sighed, and drank his cup of wine after all.

He had little dignity left to preserve anyway.

Once things had settled in the Heavenly Court, and while his palace was being cleansed from the more obvious traces of Jin Guangyao’s prolonged stay, Lan Xichen suggested that Nie Mingjue and him take a break to visit the mortal world.

Or rather, to visit a certain undead part of it. Nie Mingjue initially showed some reluctance at the idea of going among ghosts and demons when he still couldn’t touch his sabre, but eventually agreed to go to the Burial Mounds to meet with Wei Wuxian.

They were well received there, even more so than Lan Xichen on his first visit. They were offered tea, and welcomed into the Demon Slaughtering Cave which appeared to have been hastily cleaned up for them. It wasn’t as comfortable a place as their palaces in the Heavenly Court, there were papers everywhere, broken trinkets and half abandoned experimentation hidden under whatever old robes had been around, but Lan Xichen found it less distasteful than he would have expected only some weeks earlier. There was a certain homeliness to this mess of a place, or perhaps it was just because Lan Wangji looked so happy there with his husband.

The tea was served on an uneven table, in mismatched cups, and the four of them sat together to share pretty little cakes that Lan Xichen had brought, his brother's favourites.

“I’m not sure I’ll have the answers you seek,” Wei Wuxian warned them before they could even say anything. “We’re not… I’m not on bad terms with the Magpie King, but I don’t know if I’m on good ones either. And he’s just never been the sort to talk about himself. For most of our acquaintance I wasn’t even sure who he was. Doesn’t help he changed faces every so often.”

Lan Xichen nodded, throwing a glance at an ashen looking Nie Mingjue. He hadn't wanted to come here, and looked as if he thought it had been the wrong decision.

“We understand this,” Lan Xichen told his brother-in-law. “It’s just that… you and Wangji are the only people who can tell us anything at all.”

“I’ll try my best,” Wei Wuxian promised. “And I can speculate a bit about some things, too. So… where do you want me to start?”

“How did you meet him?” Nie Mingjue asked.

Wei Wuxian grimaced and fell silent for a moment. Lan Wangji took his hand and squeezed it gently in encouragement, prompting his husband to smile weakly at him before returning his attention to the other two.

“You probably won’t like that,” he said in a more serious tone than Lan Xichen had expected from him. “But I first met him when he tried to convince me to betray king Jiang Wanyin. We were allied to the Jin, the king’s sister married to their prince, and the Magpie King thought I could help him ruin both kingdoms at once. I had no idea back then why he was so determined to throw the Jin dynasty into chaos. But anyway, I refused, insulted him copiously for ever thinking I’d turn on my shidi, and then I ran to try and warn the Jin that there was trouble brewing.”

He paused and grimaced again, leaning against Lan Wangji who wrapped one arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer.

“Didn’t go so well,” he muttered. “Didn’t go well at all. I died, a bunch of Jin died, the Jiang dynasty ended, all that. I stuck around though. Didn’t much like the Jin, but their little prince was my late shijie’s son, and I figured I should protect him in her memory. So of course, when I met the Magpie King again and he wanted to get rid of that kid, we had a bit of a fight… he sucks at combat, but the way,” Wei Wuxian claimed, looking at Nie Mingjue. “I wouldn’t have expected the connection to you.”

“He never cared for that,” Nie Mingjue confirmed, just a touch of his old exasperation piercing through. “So you fought him and won?”

Wei Wuxian chuckled. “Fought him and lost, actually. I was just a small ghost, and he was a Devastation, even if he wasn’t too great at it. He tried again to make me turn against the Jin, but I refused again. I think I must have said something about family coming first, and that might have impressed him. From what I’ve heard since, he’s got a soft spot for that.”

Nie Mingjue paled at what he had to take as an attack, but Wei Wuxian quickly reassured him.

“I don’t think he’s nearly as mad at you as he looked that time,” he said. “He really does have a soft spot for those who protect their families, and he’ll be merciless to those who betray them.”

“Like we did,” Nie Mingjue said.

Wei Wuxian clicked his tongue in annoyance and shoved a cake in his mouth.

“If he were really mad, Sangcan wouldn’t have been like that,” he claimed, making himself more comfortable in Lan Wangji’s embrace. “And that’s the true heart of him, I think. The Magpie King is the persona he uses to be scary and impressive, but I’ve seen him as Sangcan far more often, and he’s not so bad like that.”

"I thought Sangcan was just a clone he'd created," Lan Xichen said.

"And one of many no doubts, but his favourite," Wei Wuxian claimed. "It's the form I've most often met him as, over the years, and the one with the most personality. He only brings out the Magpie King if it's necessary, and he brings out Sangcan when he wants to be recognised by those he knows. Even gave him part of his name, eh?"

"I used to call him Sangcan when he was a child," Nie Mingjue confessed. "He hated it, so I'd stopped doing it by the time Jin Guangyao joined our household."

Lan Xichen's breath stuck in his throat. He remembered something about that. Nie Huaisang had told him, once, and he'd been so annoyed about that old nickname. Lan Xichen had tried to comfort him with poetry, Nie Huaisang had blushed and… and he'd wanted to kiss Nie Huaisang so badly even though that wouldn't happen for another few years.

"So Lianfang-Zun wouldn't have known to seal away that name," Wei Wuxian mused. “And so Sangcan was still able to use it. I guess right from the start, he must have been looking for ways to get around that curse and make someone guess who he was. Lan Zhan, didn’t he even approach you directly when you first met?”

Lan Wangji nodded, and glanced at his brother, looking rather sorry.

“He asked if I knew him. He was disappointed when I didn’t, and again when I introduced myself.”

Something icy spread through Lan Xichen’s heart.

His brother and him looked similar, enough so to have been mistaken for twins on occasions. Nie Huaisang could easily have spotted Lan Wangji during one of his missions in the mortal world and been given false hope for a moment, only to realise that he’d made a mistake. Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji had never met as mortals, but Lan Xichen had spoken a lot about his brother to the boy he loved.

He wondered what it must have felt like for Nie Huaisang, seeing a man who looked so much like his lost lover fall in love with someone else. Lan Xichen’s marriage wasn’t much talked about among mortals where tolerance for these things came and went like waves on a beach, but among gods and ghosts it was a well known fact, one that Nie Huaisang couldn’t have ignored. To know this, to see something similar happen with Lan Wangji…

He sipped on his tea to give himself a moment and get his emotion under control.

“Does this all mean, then, that Sangcan is the real him?” Lan Xichen asked, more hopeful than he ought to have been.

But Sangcan had been… nice. A little awkward, a little clumsy, a little silly, but nice. Sangcan was a coward but he hadn’t hesitated to follow Lan Xichen into the Unclean Realm, and he had jumped in front of him when Jin Guangyao would have stabbed him. If Sangcan was the real Nie Huaisang...

“I think Sangcan is just one part of him,” Wei Wuxian corrected, “and the Magpie King is another part of him, and maybe there’s other personas I just haven’t had a chance to meet. If you put all of them together, that’s probably the real Nie Huaisang.”

Lan Xichen couldn’t help slumping down a little.

“The anger is real,” Lan Wangji said. “The kindness is real too. When Jin Guangyao would have stabbed you, Nie Huaisang protected you both times, in both his shapes.”

Lan Xichen nodded, unconvinced, but Nie Mingjue scoffed.

“Jin Guangyao attacked because Huaisang pushed him to it. I’m not sure he gets points for changing his mind about seeing us dead.”

“He showed you who Jin Guangyao was,” Lan Wangji countered with surprising vehemence. “Without this proof of character, you might have missed him.”

As unpleasant as it was, Lan Xichen couldn’t deny it. Until Jin Guangyao’s first attempt to stab him, he had wanted to believe that his late husband had truly just made an honest mistake which got out of hand. He might even have been foolish enough to want to give him another chance if he hadn't died, especially after Nie Huaisang made it clear he had no wish for reconciliation.

They had spent centuries together. Lan Xichen had thought they were in love. He’d told himself they were in love. He’d done his best to respect his husband’s boundaries, to never ask for more intimacy than Jin Guangyao was willing to give, to content himself with the companionship they shared even when he’d felt at times as if they were friends rather than husbands. Lan Xichen had done his best to be good, but he still understood why the other man would have jumped at the chance of getting rid of him, after being forced to pretend for so long.

“Nie Huaisang’s method was wrong,” Lan Wangji said. “The goal was commendable.”

“Wangji, it sounds like you actually like him,” Nie Mingjue remarked, sounding almost envious. Lan Wangji and him were on somewhat cordial terms, but they'd never managed to become particularly close, even though Nie Mingjue would have liked to.

“He helped me before,” Lan Wangji soberly replied, looking at Wei Wuxian, refusing to elaborate.

“Yeah, he’s a sentimental one, when he’s not playing up the Magie King,” Wei Wuxian agreed, nuzzling shamelessly against his husband. “He even came to our wedding, as Sangcan. He’s a sap, really.

“He was different that time,” Lan Wangji pointed out. “His manners were serious.He seemed more sad. He must not like weddings, but he came for us. He came as his entire self.”

This caused a new pang of pain to Lan Xichen. He’d been so shocked at first to learn that his brother had gone and married a ghost king, and then everything else had happened, the Magpie King, the trial in the Heavenly Court, but now that he could think about it, he realised he had missed his brother’s wedding.

Not just missed it: he hadn’t been invited to it, Lan Wangji apparently believing that Lan Xichen would be uncomfortable with such an odd union. And he had been at first, but he’d come around quickly. He would have come around then too, if only Lan Wangji had told him.

Instead, in those past centuries, Lan Wangji had never once mentioned Wei Wuxian, or else only in such a roundabout way that Lan Xichen had never realised his brother had fallen for someone.

“It must have been a pleasant wedding,” Lan Xichen said, careful to keep his voice even.

Wei Wuxian burst out laughing. “Not really? I was under shock after actually surviving the trials of Tonglu Mountain, and Lan Zhan got all sappy over seeing me again, so we decided to make it a thing before anyone could say anything. It was just the two of us and the Wen siblings, but of course the Magpie King always knows everything and he crashed our wedding as Sangcan. He did bring some wine and good food though, so I guess it’s fine.”

“Nie Huaisang told me where to find Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, which made his husband gasp.

“You never said! That explains how you found me so quickly then. Lan Zhan, shame on you for keeping secrets from your lawful husband and consorting with my enemies! Or my friends? Honestly, I don’t really know what Sangcan and I are, ahah.”

After this Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen lingered a little longer in the Burial Mounds, but not too long either. There was something about Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian's joy that was painful to witness, when the two of them were only starting to process the loss they had suffered. They were both invited to visit again whenever they pleased. Lan Xichen intended to take that offer, and knew Nie Mingjue probably wouldn't.

Whatever his feelings toward ghost kings, Nie Mingjue still asked Wei Wuxian to tell Nie Huaisang that his brother missed him, should he meet him again. Wei Wuxian promised to do his best.

"But you know,” he said, “with Jin Guangyao dead, the fate exchange spell must have lifted, and his luck probably returned. So he'll meet you for sure if that's what he wants, and then you can tell him yourself."

It was meant as a comfort, surely.

All Lan Xichen heard was that they would never see Nie Huaisang again if he didn't want to be found.

Weeks passed, turning into months, into years. Lan Xichen built a new normalcy into his life. He missed Jin Guangyao, at first, if only out of habit. For centuries, they had rarely been apart for more than a few days at a time after all. But as time passed, it became easier to be on his own.

He kept himself busy answering as many prayers as he could, only avoiding San-Zun temples. Those were quickly falling in disrepair anyway. Even without formal announcement, mortals could always tell when a god had fallen, and they were usually quick to turn their prayers elsewhere.

When he wasn’t working, Lan Xichen often spent time with Nie Mingjue. It had been awkward at first, the spectres of Jin Guangyao and Nie Huaisang lingering between them, pulling them apart. But having lost so much, neither of them was willing to lose also their last friend, and they managed to find a new balance. Lan Xichen also made sure to frequently visit his brother in the Burial Mounds, and to give him some mission or other to justify his prolonged stay in the mortal world. Everyone knew why Lan Wangji was absent from the Heavenly Court, but Lan Xichen preferred to keep up appearances.

Then, when he could, Lan Xichen wandered alone in the mortal world.

It was something he already used to do before, sometimes dragging Jin Guangyao with him as he looked for something he couldn’t quite name. The only real difference now was that he no longer had to pretend he wasn’t looking for the boy he had loved in his youth.

Lan Xichen knew that Nie Mingjue was doing the same, had always done the same. He knew also that recently they’d both caught glimpses of a silhouette here and there, of a face, that always disappeared too fast into crowds. On good days, Lan Xichen thought that Nie Huaisang was waiting for the right moment to approach them. On bad days, he suspected the Magpie King was just keeping an eye on them, waiting to strike perhaps, his revenge not over yet.

No matter which it was, Lan Xichen continued looking for him, knowing he would be glad to see him again, however changed Nie Huaisang might be.

There had been enough prayers coming from that city, and all of them urgent enough, that Lan Xichen had come in person to check the ghost terrorising that area.

The ghost in question, which seemed to be of Wrath level, had been abducting newborns for years at that point, but recently started doing so at such a speed that the whole city lived in terror. Cultivators of all levels had tried to solve the problem, only to end up dead. A small local martial god had also attempted to check the matter, but he had barely escaped with his life and had come to ask Lan Xichen for his help.

Lan Xichen, who had only stayed out of this because it would have seemed rude to take action on that other god's territory, agreed to lend a hand.

The city in question wasn't very big, and it wasn't very rich either. Since the ghost's attacks had become more frequent, every new or expecting mother who could had left the city to spend time with relatives, and some older children had been sent away as well, in case the ghost decided to broaden its tastes. Walking the streets, Lan Xichen noticed an air of sadness and despair all around, which only further motivated him to solve the issue.

Yet just as he was starting to investigate the matter, a rumour spread through the city. The ghost had already been eliminated, and the latest child it had stolen had been found alive. Nobody had borne witness to that heroic act, but the child and the remains of the ghost had been found before the city's Zewu-jun temple, and many prayers had been done to that god, people said, so it wasn't hard to guess what had happened.

Lan Xichen, who knew very well that he hadn't done anything yet, was stunned to hear this.

He finushed his investigation while the city exploded in celebration. A quick check confirmed that the slain ghost appeared to have been powerful enough to have terrorized the city, and it bore marks of having used the energies of very young children to sustain itself. The danger had passed, but Lan Xichen couldn't figure out how.

A little suspicious of this situation, he decided to linger a while in that city. Taking on a mortal shape, he wandered among the celebrations, enjoying food here and there while staying on the lookout for whoever had brought peace back to these people.

Because he was so attentive, he spotted a man sitting at a table in front of an inn with a bowl of soup to eat, and froze on the spot. Lan Xichen hesitated, just a moment. But the coincidence was really too great to ignore, so he walked to that table and sat on a free chair.

"It was you, wasn't it?" He asked, startling the middle aged man across from him. "The Wrath, you took care of it?"

Sangcan dropped his spoon and stared at Lan Xichen with wide, fearful eyes.

"Zewu-jun!" Sangcan explained, before pressing a hand to his mouth, eyes darting around. "So you came here for this? Ah, my lord, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. There was no intention to steal your kill, my lord! But, well… that Wrath owed the Magpie King a debt, and it was trying to get out of repaying it, right ? So of course…"

He gestured pathetically toward the celebrations. Sangcan really just looked like a pitiful man, terrified in front of someone more powerful than him, just as he had back then. It made Lan Xichen doubt, but still he had to ask.

"Are you just Sangcan today, or are you fully yourself?"

Sangcan frowned at the question, then glanced around. Seeing that nobody was paying them any mind, he sat straighter and passed his hand in front of his face. His features changed, though his clothes stayed the same simple ones. It was the same face he'd worn as the Magpie King that time in the Unclean Realm, though his expression retained a softness that was more like Sangcan's.

"I guess Wei Wuxian babbled too much, as usual," Nie Huaisang sighed, nearly pouting. "So, what does Zewu-jun want from the Magpie King? Apologies, perhaps?" he asked, his tone making it clear those were unlikely to be offered.

Lan Xichen motioned a waiter for a pot of tea before turning his attention back to the other man.

"I take it you haven't seen Wei Wuxian since that time?"

"No. I'm waiting for the honeymoon to be over," Nie Huaisang said, definitely pouting this time. "Wangji and him are just unbearable, aren't they? It makes me regret getting involved, the world doesn't need such disgusting displays of affection."

"They can be a bit much," Lan Xichen admitted with a chuckle. "But I understand they've waited a long time for this."

"You can say that again," Nie Huaisang muttered, producing a fan to hide behind. "Come now. You aren't here to talk about your brother's love life. Whatever you have to say, say it already."

The waiter returned, serving tea for both of them, giving Lan Xichen a chance to gather his thoughts. He hadn't really considered what to say when approaching Nie Huaisang. Having spotted him, he had just found it impossible to stay away.

He took a sip of tea. It was nothing like the exquisite brews he was served in the Heavenly Court, but there was something refreshing and pleasant in how plain it was. Simple wasn't a bad quality, Lan Xichen figured.

"I missed you," he said, quite simply.

Nie Huaisang snickered, eyeing his own cup of tea with suspicion.

"Did you now? After I made your husband try to kill you, you somehow missed me?"

His voice wasn't as gentle as in Lan Xichen memories. Right then, it carried a viciousness that the A-Sang of old would have never shown. It had disturbed Lan Xichen when he'd first met the Magpie King in the Unclean Realm, but it no longer did. It was only to be expected that they had both changed, after such a long time, and Nie Huaisang certainly had a right to some bitterness.

"I missed you before," Lan Xichen explained, earning an unimpressed look from the other man. "I did, believe it or not. There were parts of you that Jin Guangyao couldn't erase. Parts he didn't know about, like the name Sangcan, or…"

Lan Xichen trailed off, heat colouring his cheeks at the thought of what else Jin Guangyao hadn't known about.

"I spent centuries looking for a lost friend by the name of A-Sang," he said with an embarrassed cough. "One I assumed would be a ghost. Mingjue-xiong too was missing you, although in his case…"

"Da-ge never misses me," Nie Huaisang scoffed, closing his fan with a sharp gesture. "Not then, not now. I killed his father back then, and now I've defiled his precious sabre by using it to kill dear Guangyao. Don't lie to me, Xi… Zewu-Jun. I know how da-ge must feel about me. I've heard he won't even use Baxia, now that she has been tainted."

"You're right, and you're wrong," Lan Xichen mildly protested, thinking of Nie Mingjue’s guilt, of him resenting the sabre that hadn't stopped him from doing the irreparable. "You should speak to him. You've been spying on him anyway, haven't you?"

Nie Huaisang shrugged, looking away at the ongoing celebrations with affected nonchalance.

"No more than I've always done before," he said, reopening his fan and moving it in a slow, elegant manner. "I had to keep an eye on things, to see if Jin Guangyao's spell might weaken with time." The fan stilled. "And also to make sure he wouldn't harm you or da-ge," Nie Huaisang confessed. "I knew what he was capable of, even to those he called his friends… and he was getting strong enough he might soon have no longer needed you two."

Lan Xichen thought of the number of gods, small and big, who had confessed to being part of Jin Guangyao’s network during the trial. And those were only the ones who had been careless enough to be caught. Not to mention Jin Guangyao's cult among mortals had been on the rise in the past century, with more and more officials praying to him for good fortune.

"Do you think he would have…" Lan Xichen started, only to realise how pointless the question would be. Jin Guangyao had shown he was more than ready to get rid of Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue at a moment's notice. "Ah. Then I owe you my thanks for protecting us, and Mingjue-xiong as well. I am sure he would love to thank you in person. He really does miss you, no matter what you think."

"He misses his little brother," Nie Huaisang corrected, fanning himself again. "I'm not sure I'm that person anymore. And I'm not sweet little A-Sang who flirted with you either. That person is dead."

"Then let us get to know you as you are now," Lan Xichen pleaded, aching to reach over the table and grab Nie Huaisang's hand. "We just want you in our lives, whoever you are."

"If this is about the red thread between us," Nie Huaisang started, squaring his shoulders, but Lan Xichen quickly shook his head.

It was good to know that they had been fated once, and heartbreaking to realise this had been stolen from them. But having spent centuries at the side of a man who barely tolerated him, all because fate dictated it, had dampened Lan Xichen's faith in the idea of soulmates. That was why he hadn't used the spell which showed read thread a single time since Jin Guangyao’s death, no matter how tempting it had been to see if he could find Nie Huaisang that way.

"I don't trust fate," Lan Xichen said. "It isn't meant to be trusted anyway. I just want to know the person you have become, and let you find out the same about me. If something happens again between us, I will be happy. If it doesn't… then I hope we can be friends. That would please me very much."

Nie Huaisang raised his fan, trying to hide a creeping blush.

"I see. I see, you're really just as sappy as your brother then!" Nie Huaisang whined. "How terrible, this is just… I don't like fate either. I hate it! But I… I've missed you, and I've missed da-ge. I've missed you both so much, sometimes it felt like it was killing me a second time that I might never be around the two of you again! But you… and da-ge, you really think he'd…"

"I can call him here right now," Lan Xichen offered. "He'll be here in an instant, and he'll tell you himself what he feels."

Nie Huaisang tensed at the offer, the hand holding his fan trembling badly with emotion. But in the end, after a long hesitation, he nodded shyly.

"I want to see him," he whispered. "I've… I've really missed him."

"Then I will get him to join us," Lan Xichen replied. "Let's find somewhere more private though. You know how Mingjue gets when he's emotional."

"He'll cry everywhere," Nie Huaisang laughed, as if his own eyes weren't shiny with nearly spilling tears. "I'll go inside to see if we can rent a private room, just give me a moment."

He dashed away to find the innkeeper, while Lan Xichen smiled so widely his cheeks hurt.

What was lost couldn't be retrieved, but hopefully they might build something new from the ashes of everything Jin Guangyao had destroyed.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #nie mingjue #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #marked man au

35 notes · View notes

headfulloffantasies · 3 years

Text

Legacy Returning

Din Djarin is not fit to be the Mand’alor. He runs from the responsibility and more specifically from Bo-Katan.

Ao3

Legacy Returning

Din received a hail while he was flying between planets on the Outer Rim. He opened the hail without thinking, expecting Karga or Cara with a new bounty.

Bo Katan’s face flickered through the hologram. Din dove for the disengage button.

“Din Djarin.”

Too late.

Din slumped in his seat. He had come to hate that stupid headband so much. “I’m not fighting you for the Darksaber,” he cut right to the chase.

Bo Katan pressed her lips together in a frown. “If you will not face me in combat then you must return to Mandalore and begin reparations.”

Din had never stepped foot on Mandalore. It was hard to return to a place you’d never been.

“No thank you,” he said. He reached out to end the call.

“Consider your fellow vod,” Bo Katan said.

Vod. Brothers. Din had no brothers. His covert had been destroyed. He had broken his Creed. He had no one but the foundling he’d given away.

“Mandalore needs its leader,” Bo Katan pleaded.

“That’s not me,” Din said. “If you want the Darksaber, I’m throwing it in the nearest supernova.”

He hung up.

Din arrived on Tatooine at Peli’s shop. She came out of her office wiping her hands on a rag. “Where’s the little womp rat?” She asked in place of a greeting.

Din swallowed hard. “He’s with his kind,” he said.

Peli’s face fell. “Well, next time you have him, bring him this way. I like the little guy.”

Din smiled under his helmet.

“I need some help,” he admitted.

Peli came over and banged a fist on the side of his new ship. “Doesn’t look too bad. Better than your old rust heap.”

“Not with the ship,” Din said. “I need someplace to hide.”

Peli turned on him with a finger pointed in his face. “I know you’re a good person under that bucket, Mando, but if you bring trouble to Mos Eisley I won’t forgive you.”

“Noted,” Din nodded.

Peli dropped the offending finger. “So, what kind of trouble are you in now?”

Din sighed loud enough that it crackled through his helmet. “I accidentally became ruler of Mandalore.”

Peli blinked. She burst out laughing. “You? You can barely take care of the kid!”

Din bristled at that. He’d done excellent with Grogu. He’d found the Jedi for him, hadn’t he?

“Do you know of anywhere I can lay low?” He asked.

Peli shrugged. “People come to Tatooine to disappear all the time. You might want to ask the new crime lord at the Hutt Palace if you’re looking for work.”

Din startled. “There’s a new crime lord?”

Peli waved her hands. “Regimes fall every day. Do I look like a newswave?”

Din thanked her and decided he’d make his way to the Hutt Palace. Work was good. It would keep him occupied until he could figure out his next move.

At the Palace a pretty girl led Din down the stone steps to the throne room. Din’s footsteps echoed in the quiet halls.

They rounded the corner. A throne sat on a raised platform. Din let out a soft curse. “Boba Fett?”

The green helmeted Mandalorian leaped off his throne. “Mando! I thought you’d been killed by that kriffing Mandalorian princess.”

“Not yet,” Din extended his hand. They clasped vambraces. Fennec appeared from behind the throne, carrying a bottle of blue spotchka.

“Nice to see you again,” she smirked.

“What can I do for you, my friend?” Boba asked.

“A job, if you have any,” Din answered. “A hiding place, if not.”

Boba exchanged a glance with Fennec. “You’re running from Bo Katan?”

Din sighed. The sound came from the depths of his very core. “She’s decided if she can’t beat me, she’ll join me.”

“Which means what?” Boba asked.

“She’s trying to put me on the throne of Mandalore,” Din explained.

There was a beat of silence. Boba Fett burst into laughter. The sound bounced off the stone walls. Fennec tried her best, but her smile broke into giggles. Fett bent over and braced himself on his knees while he caught his breath.

“That girl has no taste,” Boba Fett said.

Din wasn’t sure if he should be offended.

Boba sent Din on a task to collect a wayward dealer who’d skimmed some money off the top of Boba’s operation.

“She’s way out in the Dune Sea,” Boba said. “That should be far enough away from Bo Katan.”

Din borrowed Peli’s speeder and set out. As he rode into the sweltering heat of the desert Din reflected on his friends’ reactions to his supposed rulership. No one thought he could do it. Kriff, even Din didn’t think he should be the Mand’alor, but some support would be nice. He definitely could not accept the throne, though. He was dar’manda; he’d lost his Way. He couldn’t lead Mandalore. Especially when he’d come to understand that most Mandalorians did not in fact follow the Way. He should just accept Bo Katan’s challenge and let her have the stupid Darksaber. Kriff, what a stupid system to have a laser sword determine the right to rule. What if it got stolen?

Din arrived at the coordinates Boba Fett had given him. Amid the towering rocks jutting out of the sand Din found a cave. It seemed like the place a normal species would take cover from the suns.

Din stepped into the shade. His visor adjusted to the dimness. A blanket, a dead firepit and a mess of used ration wrappers strewed on the ground. And- was that? Yep. That was a bomb.

Din came to with his ears ringing. He blinked through his visor. Twin suns pierced his vison. He took a breath.

Dank Farrik, that hurt. He ground his teeth against the wave of pain. When it faded enough to manage, Din took stock. It didn’t feel like any shrapnel had pierced his skin. At most, his head hurt. And his ribs under the chest plate.

Gingerly, Din sat up. Smoke billowed out of the cave. The blast had obviously thrown him backwards into the sand. It would take days to clean all the grit from his armour.

A shadow fell over him. Din looked up, a hand on his blaster.

“Dank Farrik,” he hissed. Blue Mandalorian armour filled his vision.

Bo Katan lifted her helmet. Behind her, Kaska Reeves held the collar of Din’s bounty.

Din wobbled to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

Bo Katan had the audacity to look shocked. “I’m here to speak to you. You are the Mand’alor.”

“No.” Din unclipped the Darksaber from his belt. Bo Katana stiffened. Din drew back his arm and pitched the Darksaber as far as he could. He nearly toppled over. The Darksaber winked in the light of the twin suns and vanished into the desert.

Bo Katan made a sound like a choked loth cat. Din did not care. He stomped over to Kaska Reeves and snatched his bounty from her.

“Wait,” she said. “She has to stand trial for trying to assassinate the Mand’alor.”

“No,” Din repeated. He tossed his bounty over his speeder and took off. Bo Katan yelled after him. Probably something about disrespecting his cultural heritage. Din still didn’t care.

Boba Fett took one look at Din at decided he needed a drink. Din agreed, but he’d prefer to drink alone. Besides, any planet with Bo Katan on it was not a planet he could stay on.

Din stayed one step ahead of Bo Katan for longer than he actually expected. Say you want about the princess, but she was competent and crafty. She managed to lure him to a backwater swamp with a fake bounty puck.

“I don’t want it,” Din said. Bo Katan held out the Darksaber to him imploringly. She must have spent hours cleaning the sand from its mechanisms.

Din sighed. “Do you want to arm wrestle for it? Would that work?”

Bo Katan’s eyebrows creased. “The Darksaber must be won in combat.”

Din sagged. He was so very tired of people telling him things he didn’t understand.

“I don’t know anything about it,” Din explained. “I don’t know how it works.”

He meant it as an excuse to pass the light sword along to her, but Bo Katan took it as an invitation to recite the Darksaber’s history.

It was… a lot.

Din latched onto one very important detail. “So, it hasn’t always been a symbol of the Mand’alor.”

Bo Katan faltered. “Well, no, but-.”

“And it was stolen from the Jedi,” Din said.

“Yes. But it was Mandalorian first,” Bo Katan emphasised. “The Jedi had no right-.”

“So, it actually belongs to the Jedi,” Din finished his train of thought.

He swiped the Darksaber from Bo Katan’s lax grip. He whipped around and ran up the ramp of his ship.

Bo Katan yelled after him, “Where are you going?”

“I’m giving it back to the Jedi,” Din shouted back. Glowing satisfaction filled his chest at the strangled noise Bo Katan made.

The best part was that he had an actual excuse to go see Grogu. Usually, he showed up to the Jedi academy with a half baked defense about protecting the children or something. Luke humored him, for which Din was eternally grateful. It wouldn’t do to have to kneecap his son’s teacher.

Din knew Luke was dramatic. The man wore a cape. Din did not wear a cape; it was a cloak and it was different. Capes were for dramatic entrances. This time though, Din thought Luke had taken the cake. Upon being presented with the Darksaber, Luke had vaulted into a tree and refused to come down.

“It belongs to the Jedi!” Din shouted up at Luke. He could just see his pale blond hair through the thick foliage.

“I want nothing to do with that thing!” Luke shot back.

Fine. Din could play dirty then. “Isn’t your sister Force sensitive? Does she need a laser sword?”

“Do not give the Death Saber to my sister!” Luke hissed.

Din did not move from his position of holding the Darksaber up towards Luke. He realised he looked much like Bo Katan had when she offered Din the sword. Kriff, why was she only person in the galaxy who wanted it but wouldn’t take it?

“Do any of your other students need a weapon?” Din suggested. He perked up. “What about Grogu? How long until he gets a sword? I can hold onto it for him until he’s ready.”

Luke sobbed.

Rude. Din thought it was a great idea. “It’ll be like a family heirloom.”

“I will murder you in your sleep,” Luke mumbled in the tree. “I will smother you with your pillow.”

Good luck with that. Din wore the helmet to sleep while he visited the academy. He’d had a close call with curious children the first time he’d come to see Grogu. Force users had no regard for locks that couldn’t stop them.

Anyways, Luke could not stay in that tree forever. Luke seemed to realise this too. He finally dropped back to ground level with surprising grace. He had a leaf stuck in his hair. It made him look much younger.

“That thing,” Luke jabbed a finger at the Darksaber. “Has been used to destroy the Jedi. It has no place here.”

Din looked down at the blade. “I don’t understand,” he admitted. “It’s just a thing. An object. But everyone acts like it has a will and a destiny. It’s a tool. Tools don’t care what you use them for; they don’t know the difference between good and evil.”

Din had Luke’s full attention. It was a bit daunting. Din swallowed. “Instead of giving more power to the stories of evil deeds, why don’t you use it for good? Reclaim its legacy.”

Luke squinted at him. “You’re a very clever man, Din Djarin. And a very tricky one.”

At least someone thought so.

“Does that mean you’ll take it?” Din extended the Darksaber again.

Luke hesitated. “I think,” Luke said slowly. “That you should be the one to reclaim the Darksaber’s legacy. The Force is working very strongly around you, Din Djarin.”

Din sagged. “I don’t want to be the Mand’alor.”

“Then don’t,” Luke said.

Din’s gaze snapped up to the Jedi.

Luke shrugged. “Part of the Darksaber’s dark legacy is the bloody war for the throne of Mandalore. If you hold the Darksaber but refuse to claim Mandalore then the Mandalorians will have to come up another system to choose their leader.”

Din narrowed his eyes. Luke had a devious mind. It might just work.

“You want me to spend the rest of my life defending the Darksaber from would be assassins and someday die a natural death without ever being defeated?”

Luke shrugged. “Something like that.” He grinned. “You’re doing great so far.”

Din resolutely did not mention he’d been blown up earlier that month.

Din clipped the Darksaber to his belt. “Fine. But if anybody calls me a Jedi, I’m bringing the sword right back here and burying it forever.”

END

68 notes · View notes

chibi-pix · 3 years

Text

Okay, guys! Another night, another watch of Voltron Force! And we’ve got episodes 17 through 20! Let’s do this!

And starting with episode 17, we get a beach episode! Or... well...starting with the beach. And Blue moving on her own is definitely not a good way to spend a relaxing day at the beach. Especially when she gets hostile and her eyes go red. Lance has seven beach rules and Blue broke five. Him having those rules in the first place sounds like dad energy. Further dad energy? “Wipe that smirk off your face.” Okay, when they found data that someone went in with ease to get Blue and take her, even activate her old school style, I was hoping that was Sven. And it was! Sven’s still around! But... he stole Blue. And has weird warrior armor... Also, can I take a moment to enjoy Allura’s cloaking on her armor? VLD! Why didn’t you do that for Pidge? You obviously could, she set up cloaking for Green and Voltron! I should do a writing with that... um...Moving on. To Lance! Calling Sven’s accent goofy. It just amused me. And a good callback to Sven being attacked by the cat in DotU. Too bad that the infection returned and is getting worse. And returning to where he left Allura, he has a son! And the baby is missing. I found it amusing when Maahox said “Oh, he has your eyes.” And the baby took his eye. Perfection. Always watch out for babies, they like to grab. HUNK CALLED PIDGE “PIDGEY”!!!!!!!!!!! So happy! And.... I hope Sven is okay. At least the baby’s safe. And with Nanny. Well, at least Nanny isn’t at the castle nagging Allura anymore.

Episode 18 shows a... freaky bunny thing. Okay, as someone who had a trust issue with rabbits as a kid, I’d be absolutely cautious of that freaky bugger! Hunk may be annoyed with the space mice and Pidge wants to turn the captured one into a lab rat, but I swear, if VLD Pidge were to enter that reality and see the robots, she would have a field day and adore them. And... probably work on them. But in a good way. Vince with “I’ll be up in a minute.” And he games for another three hours. I mean, that is relatable. It’s easy to lose track of time with gaming. Poor Lance dropped his coffee. Oh, and he got crushed in a door. I mean, I should feel sorry for him there but... I was amused. Poor coffee, though... I’m glad that the space mice were able to help in taking down mega Gary. But um... what about the one in the nexus? We not gonna talk about it or something? Or was it implied that it blew up too?

Episode 19 and Black doesn’t want to be messed with? “Keith, I do believe your lion is a bad influence on the kids.” Finding out that Voltron was forced on Ariel was interesting. And then through the trials! Pidge down! PIDGE DOWN! And he can’t help. At least Daniel and Larmina got it handled. THough Daniel surprised that he could figure it out was amusing. Also, this.

The way Pidge is just draped is adorable. I mean, poor baby, he got hurt. But he’s adorable just like that. At least Pidge woke up in another trial. When a spark landed on him. Oops. Though showing the trials as from different planets is nice. I feel like, though, it shouldn’t have taken the team long to figure out that with the voltcoms down, you go into physical combat against an enemy, even robots. It shouldn’t have taken for Lance to realize he saw his reflection in the robot’s “face”. Also? this is a good reason to not only not be without your tech weapon, but also a physical one to wreck someone that you carry on your back or pocket or something. I will be honest. The other trial where the Krelshi showed up, I thought it was gonna be an Oriande from VLD sort of thing. You know, stopping and submitting yourself to the krelshi instead of fighting them. Nope. They just needed Vince. And there’s a mysterious blacksmith from the Krelshi that came together. I feel like he may have a connection to Vince? Hmm.... No spoilers, though, if we do find out later.

And moving on to episode 20! And watching Vince’s video... it just left me with 2007 AMV made in windows movie maker vibes. Sorry, Vince, but that’s my take from it. I adore Pidge leaving instructions and the contact information on the fridge. You are such a dad! That’s adorable! The guy wanting to ride in the black lion is suspicious. I mean, I know it doesn’t go well anyway, but I may also be paranoid of other people. Even if fictional. And Vince... ready to hot wire the lion. When Daniel looks worried about a plan, you know it’s a bad idea! Manset captured by the drule. Hunk: “I think Manset might be in some kind of trouble.” Pidge: “You, my friend, are a master of deduction.” Pidge’s comment has the same energy as VLD Pidge’s “You are a paragon of leadership, Lance.” I love it. WHile Lance and Keith are off to save Manset, Hunk, Pidge, and Allura are ready to get food. Priorities. Can I just laugh at the fact that there is literally a mob boss Drule? Me: Wait... the Drule left. Who’s driving the limo? Manset: “Someone should probably take the wheel now.” Me: Oh... Of course the guy from earlier stole the lion. And ended up tripping Black out. Well then... I figured the kids would be punished in the end. Keith thinks they just decided to come and help when they saw the lion was missing. Um... Yup. Just go with that. Allura (and myself) may have criticized Vince’s video, but at least the others enjoyed it when he showed it. Also, Black lion strutting at the end and Keith actually having fun, it left me amused.

Anyway! That is another night of watching Voltron Force! And I definitely see VLD Pidge being so interested in the space mice. Honestly, in such a reality, I can see her even working with them more to annoy the others further. I’m sure she would. VF Pidge would have to ground her from working with the tech there, mice included. Not that it’d work, but still.

Well, I hope y’all enjoyed this watch through! Until next time!

#voltron force #vforce11 #chibi writes #chibi watches #voltron force 2011 #this is fun #but i've only got six episodes left I think #two more nights fellows #but I'm enjoying this show #VLD Pidge would totally enjoy the robotic space mice #VF pidge is definitely a parent #and I adored him being called pidgey #we really needed more 'pigeon' and 'pidgey' nicknames in VF #and we needed them in VLD too

14 notes · View notes

dontmindmyshadowhunting · 3 years

Text

Welcome to Faerieland (Fan Fic) - Chapter 7 - The Trap

This is Chapter 7 of “Welcome to Faerieland”, a sequel to my Kitty Fan Fic "To never being parted" although it can be read as a standalone story.

AO3 Link here.

*****

Dru wandered between the trees, until she saw a familiar figure standing a few feet away with its back to her. She knew him well enough to recognize his profile despite the dimness.

“Jaime,” she whispered, as relief washed over her. She didn’t want to cry out his name and draw attention to them. The faerie knight had been right about one thing. There were probably far more dangerous creatures than both of them combined in these woods.

Jaime must not have heard her because he started walking in the opposite direction, leaving Dru to hurry after him, as soundlessly as she could.

She grabbed his arm just as he was about to step into a clearing. She could see a cluster of faerie knights ahead. They stood in the middle of the field, all of them wearing similar black armour, and seemed to be having an animated conversation.

“Jaime… Where do you think you are going?”

“It’s fine,” he answered with a smile. “I know them. They’re allies.”

“Jaime…” She brushed the hilt of the dagger tucked underneath her dress and followed him cautiously. She wanted to trust him but something felt off.

They stopped three feet away from the fey knights and the crowd parted to reveal an Unseelie prince - the symbol of a broken crown visible on his silk shirt - with long silvery blond hair and a deep scowl on his narrow face. His blue eyes lit up as soon as he caught sight of Dru.

“Oh, this is more like it. Much more useful than the Rosales captive. We bear no ill against his family, quite the opposite. But this one… this one is perfect. You delight me, leanansidhe.”

Dru tried to step back, but realized she was pinned to the ground by an invisible force. The prince laughed.

Two guards appeared then, from behind the prince. They were half-escorting half-dragging a lanky figure.

Jaime.

Then who? She turned her head to where Jaime’s doppelganger stood and saw him smiling at her, baring his teeth. He did look exactly like Jaime, but his expression was very unlike him.

The guards brought the real Jaime to stand next to Dru and he shot her an apologetic look.

*****

The guards patted Dru down in a search for weapons and threw their findings carelessly in a pile a few feet away. They took their time, their fingers lingering on Dru’s body, and Jaime felt the urge to punch them. He realized as he tried to move that he was frozen in place by fey magic. The knights resumed their search quickly when one of them got his hand bitten by Dru. Jaime was satisfied to see that she had not held back. Blood was oozing out of the deep wound on the fey’s hand.

When they were done, the faerie prince took a few steps to stand in front of Dru and looked down at her. She was two heads shorter than him, but she held her head high in defiance.

Jaime felt sick to his stomach. He had been played like a fool, and now he had brought his precious Dru into this.

“A daughter of thorns and a son of roses. If this isn’t a match made in heaven…”

Behind the prince, most of the knights snickered.

“Your brother has been spying on us, before he vanished... yet again. Tell us what he knows and we will let both of you go freely. Remember, faeries can’t lie.”

“Which brother are you talking about? Because I have several, and each one of them could easily, single handedly, kick your ass,” Dru replied as calmly as if they were having a casual conversation.

“The one who has upset the balance between the living and the dead.”

Jaime had no idea what he was talking about but judging by the look on Dru’s face, she did. The faerie prince seemed to have sensed her reaction as well. His face split into a vicious grin.

“Tell us. What does he know?”

Dru sighed. “What doesn’t he know? My brother is a genius. So you really need to be more specific.”

“I am talking about my plans. What does he know of them?”

Dru shrugged. “My brother doesn’t confide in me. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Then, you will tell us where we can find him. Now.”

“A hobgoblin, a nixie and a pixie walk into a bar…”

“What is the meaning of this?” He interrupted her, his eyes blazing.

“Oh, I am sorry. I thought we were playing a game, of who could tell the most stupid jokes.”

He slapped her. Hard. Jaime flinched and tried to free from his magical restraints but found that he was powerless against them. Dru spat blood, and grinned as if it was no big deal.

“If you are not willing to cooperate, then you are of no use to me… and you shall pay for your blood’s crime. The sentence for spying is death.”

“NOOO!” Jaime cried. “It’s against the Accords. If you do this, the Clave will never stop hunting you.”

The faerie prince laughed. “Do you think I am afraid of you, little Shadowhunters? Soon, we will all be powerless against a much bigger threat and those of us who made the right alliances will be protected while your precious angel blood will be running like crimson rivers in the streets.”

He turned and jerked his head toward one of his knights, a giant wearing a lion-shaped mask wrought in gold. “Kill her!” The prince ordered. The executioner took a step toward Dru.

“WAIT!” Jaime cried at the same time Dru exclaimed “I demand a trial by combat!”

The Unseelie prince whirled and lifted a hand to halt his knight. Jaime heaved a sigh of relief.

“You know this only works if you are one of the Fair Folk.” The prince said, observing Dru with amusement.

“I am sixteen. I am a child and therefore one of the faerie kind.”

“You are only sixteen?” the prince replied, his eyes actually widening in surprise. “I could have sworn you were older than this.”

“Tell me about it,” Jaime muttered under his breath.

“I was there, you know. When your older brother used the same trick on my father three years ago. He was a fool to fall for it. I don’t know what went through his head when he picked Emma Carstairs to fight against his champion. It was pure madness.”

There was a murmur of assent behind him, several knights shaking their heads. The words “Fal the Rider” and “First Nephilim” were uttered in a low deferential voice. Interesting. It looked like the Fair Folk regarded Emma with fear and respect.

“I will give you a choice. Either you kneel and swear loyalty to me, or I will have your head cut off and sent to Mark the Hunter. We will see what the Downworlder-Shadowhunter Alliance thinks of that.”

Dru didn’t even flinch. She straightened her back and looked straight into the prince’s eyes, although he was towering over her.

The prince waved to his knight who moved forward, carrying a sword that was probably as long as Dru was tall.

“NOOO! WAIT!” Jaime cried, struggling against his magical bindings. “I want to make an exchange! Please let her go! She’s only a kid. Kill me! Kill me, instead! The Rosales and Blackthorns may not share blood but there is a deep bond between them.”

The prince snickered. “A deep bond, you say? What a poetic way to call what my brother’s Nephilim lovers do when the three of them hole up together.”

“This is not what I meant!”

The prince didn’t even acknowledge him. He was staring back in Dru’s eyes.

“Final words?”

“I can think of a few.” She smirked. She actually smirked.

Jaime was frozen in shock. He couldn’t think, couldn’t process what was happening. Because this could not be happening. He knew Dru was giving the prince her choice of words but he could only see her lips moving. He couldn’t hear through the blood pounding in his ears, all his senses numb with horror and fear.

She must somehow have provoked the prince, because he retreated with an affronted look. He signaled the knight, who lifted his sword high, ready to proceed with the execution.

He only needed to bring it down… but he never got too. The executioner froze, mouth parted in shock, an arrow protruding from his neck. Jaime hadn’t even seen it fly to its destination, straight into a very small space between the knight’s helmet and his chestplate that wasn’t covered in armour. The giant fey fell down on his knees, like a broken puppet.

“STOP”, a deep voice echoed in the stunned silence.

All heads turned to a tall and lean figure standing a few feet away, at the edge of the forest.

Jaime had always thought there was an eerie - almost ominous - look about him. Right now, he looked downright terrifying.

His gray eyes shone like the blade of a knife, a perfect match to his look of pure fury. He was wearing a dark cloak, hood down to reveal his crow black hair and pale white face, standing out like a glowing moon against the murky woods. Citrus red headphones were resting around his neck, and he was holding a crossbow carelessly at his side, as if it had not shot an arrow seconds before. A flying creature - that bore resemblance to a large eagle - was perched on his left shoulder, like the symbol of a dark omen.

Tiberius Blackthorn looked like Death itself.

Yet, Jaime had never been more relieved to see him.

*****

Tagging @gabtapia <3

#cassandraclare #cassandra clare fan fiction #the wicked powers #the dark artifices #jaime rosales #drusilla blackthorn #dru blackthorn #ash morgenstern #kit herondale #kit herongraystairs #kitty tda #kit and ty #ty blackthorn #tiberius blackthorn #ty and kit #tsc fanfiction #tda fanfiction #the shadowhunters chronicles icons #the shadowhunter chronicles

10 notes · View notes

much-obliged-timothy · 3 years

Text

So I was reading a fanfic for a different fandom where a character ends up the single father of an oops baby and...

Anyway, here’s a totally self-indulgent “what if Tim accidentally had a child” fic ft. Rhys accidentally befriending the kid and being very panicked about it (and yes I will be more than happy to write more of this weird AU if anyone wants to read it)

Rhys paced his office nervously. “Zer0, did I make a mistake? Oh my god. I can’t believe I agreed to employ a doppelganger of Handsome Jack.”

The vault hunters had contacted him with an absolutely bizarre story. While invading Handsome Jack’s casino, they’d found his sole surviving doppelganger, a man named Timothy Lawrence. Timothy had been all too eager to get out of the casino once they’d claimed it for themselves, but had nowhere to go and, they’d warned, was lacking a bit in his social skills after seven years of being locked in a casino where almost everyone wanted him dead.

Still, the man had apparently proved highly adept at business when they needed help getting issues for the casino sorted. Moxxi thought he’d be an asset to Rhys, appearances aside.

Rhys had them send over a resume and some examples of Timothy’s work, and was surprised to find that Tim was actually highly skilled at business negotiations and research. He had experience helping Hyperion develop new weapons and other various tech, and had worked as a vault hunter for Jack at one point, giving him valuable combat experience.

So Rhys had agreed to take him on, at least on a trial period to see how things went. Today was the day Tim would arrive, and Rhys couldn’t stop fretting that Tim would be too similar to Jack to bear.

“He helped Jack rise to power, they said,” Rhys babbled, his anxiety growing. “What if he’s just like Jack? I don’t think I can take that ego again. This is such a mistake!”

Zer0 watched him pace, but offered no comfort. He didn’t seem to have any concerns over the situation.

There was a knock on the door and Rhys froze, shooting a look at Zer0. Zer0 touched his gun then gestured to the door, a silent assurance that he would handle it if things got out of hand.

Rhys didn’t enjoy the thought of anyone being shot in his office, but he enjoyed the thought of being protected from Handsome Jack 2.0. “Come in.”

The door swung open and in came Handsome Jack. Rhys stared at his face for a long moment before shaking himself. Tim’s hair was longer than Jack’s, the mask on his face cracked. He had a cybernetic hand that was fidgeting with the visitor badge pinned to his jacket. He certainly had Jack’s sense of how to dress for the job; he wore jeans and a hoodie with a jacket over it instead of anything dressy.

Tim noticed Rhys eyeing his clothes and shifted awkwardly. “Uh, sorry. No money to buy anything nicer right now. I’m Timothy Lawrence. I know the mask has to go, too, but I’m arranging to have these stupid clips removed with it.”

Rhys processed his words, but only distantly. When Tim had shifted, he’d revealed that he wasn’t alone.

Tim again noticed where Rhys’s gaze went, and fidgeted more with his pass. “So, the job? Moxxi got me set up with a place to live nearby for now. I just moved in yesterday, so I’m ready to start whenever you need me to.”

Rhys continued staring. He had not been informed that Tim wouldn’t be coming alone.

Tim sighed quietly and nudged the little boy out from behind his legs. The boy stared distrustfully at Rhys, clutching a tattered teddy bear with the Hyperion logo on its stomach to himself.

“This is my son, Phoenix,” Tim explained. “I, uh, don’t exactly have a sitter. Hard to have contacts when you’ve been locked in a casino for seven years.”

Obviously Tim had found a way to pass the time. The boy couldn’t be any older than five or six, with skin a few shades darker than Tim’s, messy, ruddy hair, a splattering of freckles over his cheeks and nose, and hazel eyes. His left eye had a familiar strip of blue amongst the hazel.

“You said I get my own office? Can I see it?” Tim said, shooting Rhys a pleading look.

“Oh, um, right, yes,” Rhys said, fixing his already straight tie.

“Hey, stay here. We’ll be right back,” Tim said.

The boy’s eyes widened in terror, but Tim smiled and ruffled his hair. Phoenix clutched at Tim’s jacket.

“I’ll be right back,” Tim repeated. “That guy there? He was a vault hunter, just like I was. He’ll keep an eye on you for a few minutes.”

Phoenix looked over his shoulder at Zer0. His curiosity seemed to win out over his distrust as he eyed Zer0.

Tim took the opportunity to slip out of the room, Rhys following. They walked in awkward silence until they reached the office Rhys had secured for Tim.

“Okay,” Tim said, shutting the door as soon as they were inside. “Look, I kinda had a, uh, thing with a friend named Ember. We’d been stuck in that casino for a while at that point and everyone was trying to kill me and we just- got careless a few times. Phoenix was born in that damned place. He lived his whole life in there, hidden between me, Ember, and a friend of Ember’s from the vice district. Ember told me to take him with me to Promethea so he could experience life in the real world. Not that this shithole planet is fancy living, but-” He stopped and groaned. “Sorry, injected with Jack’s DNA. Anyways, please, he’s scared to be alone.”

No one had warned Rhys that in addition to getting a traumatized employee, he’d be getting the man’s traumatized son as well. But what was he going to do? Turn him out onto the streets?

Rhys sighed quietly. He hated kids, mostly because he had no idea how to talk to them and they frightened him.

“He can’t go into meetings with you,” he said at last.

Tim looked so relieved that Rhys didn’t even regret the decision. “Thank you. Really, thank you. Oh, finally, a CEO who isn’t an absolute dick. He’s no trouble, really. He’ll stay in my office with me, and he thinks everyone wants to kill him so it’s not like he’ll go bothering anyone.”

At Rhys’s startled look, Tim grimaced. He touched his mask and shrugged.

“Look, I’m not going to lie. My kid is…” He cursed softly. “I didn’t want that for him. But I had no choice. I started teaching him about guns when he was three. We taught him how to hide, and not to trust anyone. It was the only way we could keep him safe. It’s going to take time to break him of all that. B-But I’m a good worker! I won’t make you regret this! Well, I mean, the occasional Jack moments probably will, but other than that, no regrets. I hope.”

This was too much to handle right now. “You need to go get fingerprinted downstairs. Then we’ll get you settled and go over your schedule and duties.”

Business. He could do business. He couldn’t do a traumatized Handsome Jack doppelganger with a paranoid son.

“Right, let me just go let Phoenix know,” Tim said, opening the office door.

“That’s a cool name,” Rhys said as they started along the hallway.

Tim shrugged again. “Ember wanted something with fire. I guess we thought it was fitting, since he was born in the wake of Jack’s death and my, uh, sort of freedom. I mean, I still had a bomb in my face and was trapped in a casino. But no more Jack ordering me about.”

He at least didn’t sound bothered by Jack’s death, so Rhys took some comfort in the fact that Tim appeared not to hold any loyalty to his former boss. Moxxi had claimed Timothy hated Jack, but Rhys was still worried after everything he’d been through with the AI Jack.

They stepped back into Rhys’s office, and Phoenix was immediately back at his father’s side, clutching Tim’s jacket in one hand and his bear in the other. Tim squeezed his shoulder and gently pried his hand off.

“I need to go get fingerprinted, Phoenix,” he said. “I’m just going to be right downstairs.”

The kid looked torn. Rhys felt a flash of pity.

“It should only be fifteen minutes if they’re not busy,” he said. Maybe knowing how long Tim would be gone would calm the kid.

“Fifteen minutes,” Tim said, smiling. “That’s nothin’, pal. I take longer in the shower.”

“You take forever in the shower,” Phoenix said, but grabbed Tim’s jacket again.

Once again, Tim gently pried his hand away. “Fifteen minutes, pal. Then I’ll be back.”

Phoenix watched his father leave the room and began to pace silently, keeping Rhys, Zer0, and the door in view as he did so. He was rubbing the band of a watch strapped to his wrist, far too big for him. Rhys realized it was a digistruct watch, and sat down in the hopes he wouldn’t spook the kid into summoning whatever was stored in there.

Phoenix kept shooting a look to Rhys’s cybernetic arm, looking like he wanted to say something. He kept snapping his eyes back to the door, but his gaze would drift back to the arm.

Rhys finally held it up. “It’s, uh, it’s an Atlas cybernetic. State of the art.”

“Dad has one,” he said, holding up his hand. “He lost his hand in the casino.”

“That’s because Handsome Jack is a controlling asshole,” Rhys said, then snapped his mouth shut. Shit, could he swear in front of kids? Was that legal?

But Phoenix stared at him, slowing his pacing. “You knew him?”

“Sort of,” Rhys said, rubbing the back of his neck. “We...worked together? Sort of? He tried to kill me. Not a good time.”

The distrust on his face evaporated a little. “He locked my mom and dad in the casino. Dad said he’s a freaking asshole. But I’m not s’posed to call anyone else that word.” He pointed to his eye with the sliver of blue in it. “Dad said that was Jack’s last ‘screw you’.”

Rhys stared at Zer0 for help. He hadn’t expected to shit talk Jack with a little kid today, and wasn’t sure what to do now that it had started.

“Much more lively now/He must like you a lot Rhys/You have made a friend,” Zer0 said.

“You talk funny,” Phoenix said.

“He speaks in haikus,” Rhys explained. “Well, mostly.”

Phoenix frowned. “I dunno that language. My mom speaks French.”

Rhys laughed in surprise. “Oh, no, it’s not a language. It’s a type of poetry.”

“Oh,” Phoenix said, then shrugged in a movement that perfectly mimicked Tim’s.

Rhys couldn’t help but stare a little as the boy resumed his pacing. He wondered if any of his features had been inherited from Tim’s original appearance. He wondered if it was hard for Tim to look at his kid and see both himself and Jack in him.

Rhys busied himself with paperwork to keep from staring any longer. However, as fifteen minutes passed, and then another five, and then even more, Phoenix’s pacing grew faster.

He rubbed at the band of his watch more, eyes locked on the door. He looked terrified, checking the time yet again and hugging his bear tighter.

“They were probably just busy,” Rhys said, because as much as he didn’t like kids, he felt bad seeing one break down right in front of him. “He’s okay.”

“What if he’s dead?” His voice cracked a little and he paced even faster, clutching the bear so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Rhys got up and slowly approached. “Hey. Hey, Phoenix. It’s safe here, okay? No one here will hurt him. I promise.”

“But he looks like that freaking asshole!” Phoenix said, pointing at his eye again.

“I know, but I warned my people he’d be coming today. They all know he isn’t really Jack. No one is going to hurt your dad,” Rhys assured. Phoenix still looked scared and frantic, so Rhys tried a different approach. He held his cybernetic hand out and let an image come up in his palm. “Have you ever seen a skag before?”

Phoenix nodded his head, looking torn between watching the door and looking at the holographic image. “Uh-huh. But just one.”

Rhys let the holograph play out. “Look how they run! I got stuck on Pandora years ago, and these things were scary.”

“Pandora?” He tugged at the ear of his bear. “Dad said it’s a shithole. I’m not s’posed to say that, though. Mom gets mad and says dad has a dirty mouth.”

“It kind of is a shithole,” Rhys agreed. “Promethea is much better. I think you’ll like it here. You and your dad can explore this weekend when he’s not working.”

His eyes shot to the door again. “But he’s not back!”

“He’ll come back,” Rhys said. “I won’t let anyone hurt him while he’s here. I promise.”

His eyes widened and he looked at Rhys. He seemed torn between distrust and hope.

The matter was settled as Tim reappeared in the room, looking out of breath. “Sorry. Some freaking idiot down there couldn’t find her ID and held up the whole line. I- Umph!”

Phoenix launched himself at Tim, wrapping his little arms around Tim’s waist tightly. There were tears silently rolling down his cheeks.

“Hey, hey.” Tim knelt down and hugged him, kissing his head. “I’m okay. I’m right here, pal. I’m okay. I’m sorry I took so long.”

He stood up with Phoenix in his arms, running gentle fingers through his messy hair. Phoenix nuzzled his head against Tim’s neck, wiping at his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said, kissing him again. “I have shitty time management skills. Oops, don’t tell your mom I swore again.”

Phoenix put an arm around Tim’s neck to hold onto him. “Dad, this guy showed me a skag. On his hand!”

“‘This guy’ is my boss,” Tim said. “A skag, huh? Can’t say I missed Pandora’s brand of cannon fodder creatures.”

“You and me both,” Rhys said, standing up.

“Can you show dad?” Phoenix said, pointing to Rhys’s hand. “They look so stupid.”

Rhys brought up the image again. With his dad safely back with him, Phoenix was much more interested, peering at it with curious eyes.

Tim wiggled the fingers of his cybernetic hand. “Yea, mine doesn’t do that. Cool, though.”

“One of the vault hunters who saved us had a skag,” Phoenix said. “And a...a...something else.”

“Jabber. You saw their jabber,” Tim said. “Shit-flinging, obnoxious beasts.”

Phoenix tightened his hold on Tim. “You’re not s’posed to swear, dad.” He gave Tim the hint of a grin. “Gotta shut me up.”

“Ice cream it is,” Tim said with a long sigh. “After work, though. I’ve got to earn money to afford to bribe you, pal. So, let’s get on with it, Rhys.”

Rhys took Tim and showed him around a bit before bringing him back to his office. As Tim had assured, Phoenix was quiet the whole time, just clinging to Tim. When they reached the office, he sat in a chair in the corner, playing with his tattered bear and not bothering either man as they went over Tim’s schedule and duties.

“Well, I’ll leave you to get settled in and do the basic paperwork,” Rhys said, shaking Tim’s hand. “If you have any questions, you know where my office is. You’ll be primarily reporting to me.”

“Hey,” Phoenix said as Rhys headed for the door. He was clutching his bear tightly again, glancing from his dad to Rhys before blurting out, “Can you tell me about Pandora sometime?”

“Oh,” Rhys said in surprise. “Yea, sure. I mean, a lot of my experience involves me being in fear for my life. But, sure.”

“Hey, been there done that on Elpis, kiddo,” Tim said. “Phoenix, let him get back to work. You can help me get some papers organized, if you want.”

Phoenix hopped off the chair. “M’kay, dad. See ya, boss guy.”

Rhys left the office and stared at the door once he’d closed it. Today had not gone as he’d expected, not at all. And he had a sinking feeling he’d accidentally made the kid like him.

Great. He’d been so worried about dealing with a Handsome Jack doppelganger, and now his bigger problem was a small, curious child. Rhys wondered if life would ever let him catch a break.

Part 2

#borderlands #timothy lawrence #borderlands rhys #rhys strongfork #borderlands au #borderlands fic #My writing

27 notes · View notes

dreadwulf · 4 years

Text

Love is a Burning Thing

(part 1) (part 2)

He is riding away from her. Farther and farther away.

Jaime is riding at the head of his battalion across the Crownlands. Glory trots along quite amiably, at pace with hundreds of other horses around him. Without his needing to move a muscle, at every moment Brienne is farther away. He can feel the distance stretching between them like she is still holding onto him somehow and pulling with all her might, ever since she had left him this morning.

It hurts. Like a steadily increasing stomachache, only it’s some other organ down there in his gut. If there is a structure in the body that secretes devotion like eyes spill tears, it is surely there, somewhere in his belly, and it is contracting violently, whispering at him to turn around and go back. But his gut is perpetually wrong, and cannot be trusted. This is exactly what he wants, to be getting away from Brienne as fast as he can. If it hurts, well, Jaime is quite accustomed to being hurt by the things he wants.

They ride for King’s Landing, and the ache simmers inside him like a low fire. But there is enough else to occupy his mind, and surely it will fade into the background, unimportant, beside the urgency of a Targaryen invasion.

His squire is watching him worriedly from his palfrey nearby, and Jaime straightens under the young man’s scrutiny. Smiles back at him until his squire grins cautiously back, and spurs his horse to ride over to the flanks. There, that’s more like it. Lord Lannister is no lovesick boy pining after some maiden. He made a foolish mistake, but fortunately it has cost him little. A few days away from his post, some chagrin before his men, and this wretched ache in his gut. That is nothing he can’t recover from.

His squire is riding, he notes, much more smoothly than he did when last they rode the Kingsroad, leaving the capital. He has grown tremendously in these months. Just as he had told Brienne, he will have to knight him sometime soon, Peck. Else some other knight will do it, and deny him the honor. He has been a good squire, and Jaime will regret losing him.

Does he hope for it? Jaime wonders. At his age I thirsted for battle, and if there are truly Targaryens on the march there will be some promise of glory. If he knights him today, Peck will have to fight for his King. He will probably have to fight either way, but as a squire he will keep to the periphery, and a knight will be expected to charge on horseback, into the thick of the fighting. But Peck has not shown any remarkable talent at swordplay, not as Jaime had when Ser Arthur Dayne had knighted him. Not that, not yet. Let him squire a little bit longer.

His eyes drift to the wagon where the sons of the Riverlands are riding, where until this morning Podrick Peck had sat chattering and playing at dice with the other boys. What will he do with the hostages when they ride to battle? They could squire for his men. But if he loses any of them in battle, he will lose the cooperation of their parents as well.

I think Peck was sorry to see young Podrick go, Jaime thinks. His squire had taken the smaller boy under his wing, and the younger Payne had looked up to him with the kind of hero worship reserved by young boys for older, not-quite-grown boys. Peck enjoyed that attention, clearly. Podrick had a starry-eyed eagerness that his squire would be just outgrowing. An innocence.

Jaime had spoken with the child as well, the night they had caught him sneaking into the camp. A scared and reticent boy to begin with, with a fearful glaze and a pronounced stammer that made one wonder if he had lost his wits. But with only a little encouragement, he had turned into a fair chatterbox. He had been startled to learn that the boy had squired for his brother Tyrion during the battle of the Blackwater; it had been he that saved his life, though not his nose. Timid he may be, but the young squire does not lack for bravery. It seems he had left King’s Landing looking for Tyrion, and followed the Maid of Tarth in hopes that her quest would lead him there. His brother had been good to him, Podrick said.

As not many people have been, I’ll wager. Cast-off of a cast-off of House Payne, small for his age, and guileless as a newborn.

Jaime had offered the boy a berth in his army. He could squire for Jaime’s cousin Addam Marbrand, or at least apprentice to someone in his camp, earn his keep. He would not be a hostage like the Riverlands’ noble sons, but he could still run about and play with them, as he seems to enjoy doing. I suspect the boy has not done much of that either, he notes.

Pod refused his offer, however. He said, with some hesitation, that he hopes Lord Tyrion is well, and thanks Ser Jamie for the kind offer, but he would rather stay with Lady Brienne, wherever she will be. He has a fair cavalcade of praise for the lady, which Jaime endures without comment. All in all, he seems a good lad. Loyal. From what little he saw, they are quite tightly bonded, the boy and his lady knight.

He ought to feel better knowing that. If he was to be sacrificed for another, at least the other was a good-hearted and clearly beloved child. It could have been Lem Lemoncloak.

It does not make him feel any better.

He had gritted his teeth to look upon the boy, to be honest. Can one be jealous of a child? But Podrick very obviously had his lady’s love, and Jaime does not.

He has only just learned how much the wench meant to him, and how comparatively little he had meant to her in return. For her, at a moment’s notice, he had thrown over his family, his house, his responsibilities, to follow her into the Riverlands on the flimsiest of excuses, all because he thought she needed his help. It had been startlingly easy to do it, and as he walked away from his life he had felt lighter and merrier with every step.

What a fool he had been. As it turns out, she would not do the same for him - no, he was no more than a hostage himself, intended to free the companions she valued more. This boy, and that Hunt fellow, a hedge knight of some sort, who awaited them at the Dread Lady’s Gallows. Brienne had risked a great deal to come and find him, but the risk had not been for his sake.

But no matter. She is gone now and he will not see her again. He will return to his life and go about forgetting her. That should make these feelings stop. It will have to end sometime, the crawling betrayal, the creeping shame, the sharp sting of rejection, and that time will come much sooner without the constant reminder of her presence. With time he will stop thinking of her, and it will be like he had never met that stubborn, ugly beast of a woman.

This is not making him feel any better either. Cheer up, he tells himself, tomorrow you may die.

The Targaryen pretender has already taken Storm’s End in a rout. This “Aegon” has a band of supporters and a hired troop of mercenaries, the Golden Company, and at last word was riding out to face Mace Tyrell and the Crown forces. Of course it isn’t Aegon Targaryen - Jaime knows all too well the babe was slaughtered, skull crushed against the wall by his father’s creature The Mountain - but he looks the part, with the Targaryen hair and eyes. Perhaps he is some unknown cousin, some lost branch of the Targaryen family tree using Aegon’s name. Should Westeros be nostalgic for the relative peace of Targaryen rule, they might find the young man very persuasive.

He turns the details over and again in his mind. The Golden Company, a fearful force, and Targaryen banners stirring the populace to rebellion. They could be marching into a battle they cannot hope to win. Impossible to tell from the increasingly vehement missives he has received from the Queen Regent. She commands him to victory, but does she truly expect it? As has been amply demonstrated to him recently, he cannot expect even his closest allies to place much value on his safety. After all, what does anyone care if the Kingslayer should die?

My sweet sister would summon me regardless. She has shown that often enough. As coin she would spend me on a hopeless trial by combat merely to flaunt her purse. No doubt my beheading at the gates of King’s Landing would be just as gloriously pointless.

Though Cersei, it seems, wants him only to return to her side directly, to serve as her personal bodyguard. She is grown obsessed with some prophecy that the children will all be murdered and her choked to death at Tyrion’s hands. Hearing that Tyrion himself is approaching the city has sent her into a kind of frenzy. Her last letter was nearly incomprehensible, raving.

Yes, that had been the last bit of news the Spider had passed along, with the rest of his whispers: his own brother Tyrion rides with Aegon, and advises the Targaryen pretender how best to defeat their House in battle. That was the lowest blow, and it had knocked his usual confidence right out of him. Jaime does not fear battle, but he dreads this confrontation.

If one side wins, his sister and son are dethroned and probably executed. If the other side wins, he will have to kill his brother. Jaime loses either way.

He should not worry about defeat. The Crown forces are superior, the Lannister army vast and well-provisioned, and King’s Landing is by design a difficult city to take. But his brother is fearsomely clever, and he was Hand. He defended King’s Landing against Stannis Baratheon, and a man who knows how to hold the city will know how to take it. If he does, he will have his revenge for a lifetime of slights. He knows Tyrion holds it against him still, the lie he had told him about Tysha. After all the years they had been beloved brothers, after Jaime had set him free and saved his life, his little brother saw fit not only to murder their father but to conspire with their enemies to contest Cersei directly for the throne. He does not expect Tyrion will pull any punches now for old time’s sake. Not when they will face each other across a battlefield.

If there is anyone left who has not yet stuck a knife in my heart, they are running out of time to do it.

He mulls over such thoughts feverishly as the dimming winter sun lowers in the sky. For a time he considers pressing the Lannister troops onward into the night to reach King’s Landing. It will be only a few hours march from here, and their summons have been increasingly urgent. Still, he would rather rest his men so that they can arrive fresh to the fighting and not exhausted from the road, and he commands them to set camp.

“Milord,” a lieutenant interrupts him tentatively as he unhorses, “we have Thoros of Myr bound in your tent as you requested, awaiting interrogation.”

Jaime smiles thinly. They have captured Beric Dondarrion’s Red Priest, who had somehow turned Catelyn Stark into the apparition who had lead the Brotherhood without Banners to capture him. Somehow during the conflagration with the Brotherhood he had run away and vanished into the trees. But Jaime’s scouts found him in the night, Thoros, stoking a meagre fire near Maidenpool. There was no time to deal with him in the morning, so they bundled him up and brought him along on the march - though they gave him no horse, and forced him to walk along tied to one of the wagons, thinking it would make him more cooperative.

The Lord Commander’s tent is first to rise, and resplendent before ever he sets eyes on it, not that he notices. He leaves Peck to unsaddle his horse and enters it in full uniform. He will get through this interrogation before undressing and taking his supper.

He sits in the armchair they have carried across the Riverlands for him, and accepts a glass of sherry. The muddy priest is bound on the floor before his desk, and at his command his bonds are loosened, and he is allowed to sit in a wooden chair before his desk. Jaime observes all of this as he finishes the first glass of sherry, and requests another.

Once a huge man, both tall and fat, Thoros of Myr is now considerably diminished. His red robes are cavernous around him, his skin hanging loosely off his skeleton in great folds. Formerly a fierce swordsman, the fire that he once brandished by burning swords has seemingly gone out. The old Thoros could wear this one like a cloak.

Even before Jaime can begin to question him, the Red Priest is firing questions back. First among them, “What have you done with the girl?”

“Which girl?” he stalls, disconcerted.

“The maiden with your blade.” He may be physically smaller but his eyes are bright and sharp, and he holds Jaime’s gaze without flinching. The priest explains patiently, “the tall young woman with the king’s seal, she who brought you to the Brotherhood. I saw you strike her down. Where is she now?”

Jaime ignores this questioning; it is none of the man’s concern. Instead he asks him of his escape from the ambush that night, which quiets him a bit. He could have fought them, could have produced a flaming sword and defended his Lady Stoneheart, but instead he had fled. Thoros does not seem to be interested in explaining why, averting his eyes and answering him shortly with “yes” and “no”.

He questions the Red Priest about Catelyn Stark, about Berric Dondarrion, about remaining members of the brotherhood and the commonfolk who supported them. Still Thoros turns the conversation back and back again to Brienne.

“But what of the Maid of Tarth? I saw her nowhere in your formation, amongst prisoners or soldiers.” He pokes and prods, Thoros, and his brow furrows with concern. “It has not gone unnoticed that she is gone. Some here have it that you have done away with her.”

His patience at an end, Jaime snaps back, “And what if I have?”

Thoros puts on a perplexed expression, blinking at him curiously. “That cannot be. Surely even you are not so cruel as that.”

“Surely I am, ask anyone in the Seven Kingdoms.” Thoroughly tired of judgement, he decides to go along with the Red Priest’s poor opinion of him, if it will loosen his tongue. “The wench lured me to my barely-averted death. I am well within my rights to punish traitors such as she.”

“Brienne of Tarth never betrayed you for a moment.” The Red Priest is disturbed, shaking his head sadly. “That poor, brave girl. She defended you to a crowd baying for your blood, said that you were a changed man, that you were not responsible for your reported crimes. We called her your whore. But you never touched her, did you? Wouldn’t trouble yourself with someone so pure of heart, when you have your sister the Queen in your bed.”

Ah, so Thoros still has a sense of humor after all. Jaime snorts. “So pure of heart she would lead me to my death, while calling me friend. How is that not a betrayal?”

“She was forced to it. Our dread lady commanded her to kill you and she refused. The entire Brotherhood demanded it and she refused. We offered her a choice, the sword or the noose.”

“And she choose the sword to save her own skin.” Jaime swallows from the glass. “I understand it, of course. It is a hard lesson for one such as her. No one is pure.”

“No!” Thoros smacks the palm of his hand against the commander’s table, and Jaime cannot help flinching. “She chose the noose. Brienne said she would not betray you and they put a rope around her neck and hung her, hung her choking and kicking from a tree. She would have died there without relenting but for Podrick Payne, the boy.”

No. No, it isn’t true, he tells himself. But it tracks with what the boy had told him. She did it for me, my lord, you have to understand… He had assumed the choice had been a simple one. Podrick or Kingslayer. But had there been another choice as well? Hadn’t he seen the angry red marks around her neck, or decided not to see?

“They hung him from the tree next to her, and when she saw him dying, she called for a sword. Not before. Not for herself. She would have died for you.”

“Lies.” Jaime has gone very still. Only the muscles of his hand flex, where he holds tightly onto the drinking glass. “The Brotherhood’s Red Priest. Why should I believe anything you say?”

The priest raises his hands, palms beckoning to the air. “What reason have I to lie about this? What benefit to me? I care no more for factions or grudges. I have seen war render this land a hell beyond anything my lord R’hllor or any the Seven could dream up. So far as I care whoever is left standing at its end is welcome to its rotten fruit. All that matters is that in the ruins of honor and justice I met a maid who embodied both, and now she is dead. That, my lord, is a calamity, and I would have you know just how great of one.”

He hardens his heart. “In this world you are either faithless or dead. She is both, and soon enough we will be too. It’s no calamity.”

“You utter fool.” The Red Priest has the nerve to look sorry for him. “Let me tell you: when we found that girl she was dying of fever, battered and broken by brigands, and all she would do is talk about Jaime Lannister. She said your name in her sleep. She said she had to find your honor. She pleaded for you to come for her when she was next to dead. Not her companions, or her kin. Only you. No sword could have been more loyal to you, and no woman more true to anyone.

Jaime’s guts are churning now, his heart clenching painfully enough to turn him inside-out. What a stupid organ, the heart. If he could, he would carve it out himself.

It makes him snap back at Thoros tightly, “Gold will buy loyalty as reliably, and a woman too.”

“Not like her, not to you. You are only too cynical or too stupid to see it. That girl loved you. She loved you.”

The glass in Jaime’s left hand abruptly shatters.

Thoros jerks back, more at the noise of it than anything else, and stares down wide-eyed at the Lord Commander’s desk. His hand had squeezed and squeezed the glass until it finally popped, in a small explosion of shards and blood. Now his hand opens and stretches, and the Lord Commander examines it curiously. A few jagged bits of glass stick out of his palm and fingers. It hardly hurts at all, but it produces an impressive amount of blood.

Lannister guards burst into the tent at the sound of breaking glass, and the sight of blood makes them draw their swords. Jaime waves them back. “My golden hand holds drinking glasses not so well as I’d hoped. Stay at your post.”

“My lord…” Thoros, distinctly alarmed at his lack of reaction, darts his eyes between the bleeding hand and Jaime’s impassive face. “Your hand…”

“It’s nothing.” For a second he moves to pluck the glass bits out of his hand, but his other hand is made of gold. Not much good for that. He can only poke at the bloody shards with a strange fascination. His guards watch warily, not leaving but keeping their distance.

“You know I am a healer. Allow me.”

He shouldn’t allow it, and his guards are visibly appalled, but Jaime makes no move to stop him when Thoros kneels at his side. He moves aside the golden hand, taking his flesh hand and extracting shards of glass with careful attention.

“I can’t imagine why,” the priest murmurs, “but Brienne thought very highly of you. I owe her some kindness, for what we did to her. If she is gone, you will have to do.”

Then it comes again; the pain. Worse than ever. Jaime bows his face to the floor at the weight of it.

“I let her go,” he manages to say, hoarsely. “I gave her the sword and I let her go. Her and the boy.”

“Truly?” Thoros looks up at him dumbfounded, uncertain whether this could be another of his jests.

But of course he let her go. What else could he do? He couldn’t keep her prisoner forever.

He sees it now, too late. Brienne in the cell, wasting away. The tears she had shed when he denied her Oathkeeper. How she had hesitated so inexplicably when he allowed her to leave. The way she had looked on him, as though she would accept any punishment he would give her. He had thought it was her simple goodness that made her contrite. But it could have been more. It could be true; somehow, she had loved him.

When he could not bring himself to harm her, he thought it his own weakness that stayed his hand. Perhaps they share the same weakness.

He jumps up from his chair with that thought, snatching his one working hand back from the damned Red Priest and sweeping out of his commander’s tent. He strides rapidly to the stables and grabs the bridle of the first horse he sees. Honor, not yet unsaddled from their ride.

Jaime rides hard against the twilight, back down the trail they’d come. Back to the place where he’d left her. It was a day’s ride back as an encampment, but a single man riding as fast as his horse is able made the distance in a few hours.

She won’t be there. She could have gone in any direction with a day’s advance. But if she stopped there. If she stayed to rest, and to think out her next move. If she waited there. If she waited for me.

He urges Honor to run faster at the thought.

The Riverlands rush by headlong and the pounding hooves drive every thought from his head until he is pure instinct, animal-simple: find her.

The clearing is empty when he arrives, and quiet.

Jaime slings down from his horse looking around him wildly. It’s dark. There’s no sign of anything. No fire, no trail, no sign she had been there at all except that he knows this is where he had left her. He knows that in his bones. He will never be able to forget this place.

He walks aimlessly in one direction and then another. Which way would she have gone? East is Maidenpool, closest of anything, where she might find Tully allies. Riverrun in the other direction, a farther walk but where she might potentially find a ship, go back to Tarth. Or would she have headed singlemindedly North, towards the Vale, without even stopping to supply herself?

He takes not much time to decide. He thinks Maidenpool, then North. Climbing back onto Honor he rides East, alert for any campfires or single riders,scouring the forest hour after hour, and shouting out her name until his voice is nearly gone.

He reaches Maidenpool with the dawn and sees no sign of her there.

In a haze of desperation he accosts passers-by, one after another. Have you seen a maid pass this way, with a sword and a young boy? Riding a chestnut horse?

They all say no. They step back from him like he has gone mad; but of course it sounds a bit mad, doesn’t it? A lady knight with a Valyrian steel sword, as big as The Hound, with her own squire. While he’s at it, he should ask after Galladon of Morne, and mermaids, and the Crone with her lantern. But perhaps it is the stench of a cursed man they respond to, a man who has held riches and lost them. Such ill fortune is catching. They give him a wide berth, they murmur, they leave him standing in the street lost and alone. Perhaps they do not know a Kingslayer when they see one, but anyone can spot a man laid low by love.

Have you seen a woman, an absurdly large woman? With the bluest eyes you’re ever seen? A woman with a sword - a broadsword, two-handed? Looks like she knows how to swing it? Have you seen her? Big and strong as an ox but pure as a maiden? Straw-blonde, a hand taller than me, shoulders as broad as a barn. Has no one seen her? A knight? A true knight? The truest knight that ever walked this land? Tell me where she’s gone. Please, tell me if you’ve seen her. I saw her and I sent her away. She loved me, and I let her go.

******************************************************

The sun is marking mid-morning by the time he returns, and there are dark clouds looming in the distance, swirling up from the horizon.

He has hardly left the saddle before he is accosted by a barrage of debriefs and dreadful news.

King’s Landing is burning. Aegon’s forces arrived faster than anyone predicted, are thoroughly breaking Mace Tyrell’s formation, and their secondary forces sneaking up the bay have set Flea Bottom afire. The Goldcloaks have surrendered already, and the Red Keep will soon be under siege. Even if they ride full-tilt for the capital it will be a rescue mission now, not a defense.

“Ready us to ride directly to battle in an hour,” he instructs his captains. “Leave the camp set here, and I set my cousin Addam in command. Peck, you and your lady Pia will stay behind with the hostages and the provisions. If we face defeat see that they are returned to their homes - quickly as you can, the Kingsroad will be dragon territory before long.”

His squire’s face turns quite red and he looks ready to argue with him, and Jaime quickly turns his back to him. He hears the lad sputtering behind him as he throws the tent flap aside and goes into his Commander’s Tent.

Jaime sits alone in his tent for that hour and he burns. He feels the flames of wildfire in King’s Landing, hears the screeching laughter of Aerys Targaryen getting his fiery baptism at last. His most sacred oath is to guard his King, and his King is in mortal danger and he is not there. He left Tommen unprotected. Left his sister, his son, his duty. His doom awaits him there, is waiting for him still. He must go.

All around him his men are making ready for battle. He knows, with a dreadful foresight, that it is not a battle they can win. It will be glorious, and at the end of it he will be dead and he will never see Brienne again.

Brienne. Brienne. His heart blazes in his chest.

He should have kept her with him. He should have let her tell her tale. His stupid pride would not allow it and now she is gone.

Where is she now? Sheltering in some rain-soaked forest? Hiding in some Tully supporter’s house in Pennytree? Could she have seen him foolishly asking after her, and held her tongue?

He has been cruel to her. He has let her suffer. He denied her Oathkeeper. He had been badly wounded, his pride wounded, his poor sore heart wounded, and he had wanted to hurt her too. When he saw her tears some sleeping part of him wanted to take it back. He felt monstrous for doing it, and told himself it was because he was a monster. He had stood there and watched her with her shoulders hunched and fists balled at her sides, tears running down her face. What might she have done if he had tried to soothe her tears? He could have been kinder.

Now she will remember him as bitter and petty and hateful when he is gone, and there will be no one left in the world who thinks on him fondly.

But at least she will not see this battle; at least he gave her Oathkeeper to keep herself safe. She will have to think on him when she wields the sword, and perhaps she will remember whatever it was that had made her care for him. Perhaps she will know, when she holds the blade, that he had loved her too.

Mother, let her know it for certain. Give her my love.

When the hour is up, he leaves his tent, mounts Glory, and rides to battle.

#ring of fire #tumblr fic #oh hello there plot #middle chapters are tough - there's two more after this

131 notes · View notes

the-firebird69 · 2 years

Text

There are certain things about your people that I can't stand one is blaming people for everything you're doing

Your son going in circles at times and your employer inappropriate terrible terrible people so tell me what we're going to do and then take it down to the last penny like everyday you're going to have to replenish no you won't have money.

Were going to reduce some of your areas to rubble because you don't need this much room and this many people you're all too much of a hassle and too hard to monitor and control.

Then take the things out of the ground that of yours you can stop competing over them

I'm going to weed out the losers since that you just dinner didn't get something because all I just kill you will kill a whole bunch of you until it stops

We're going to commence this program now. I'm going to add in a few mincing and words you go.

Good night it was tonight it was terrific huge numbers of you out I'm giant areas cleared. Massive numbers of you died massive and of all sorts of things mostly then combat at sea or combat at certain areas such as Colorado and a huge bunch trying to attacking the walls of each middle area it was about 200 septillion each wall it was massive all of them died in vain.

The gigantic force is amassing still in Russia. It's growing and there are three of them all of them are in the Northeast Siberia and it's tons of hardware now I also whole country's hardware is up there the rest of the countries evacuating some serious people over there

Colorado and Utah attracted about 650 trillion and they died and that was last night into this morning the court has sent the letter with the money in it and the court date and that was I believe Monday today would be the fifth day possibly receive it today and yeah Utah was a big area for Trump to clone himself one of his characters is on Schwarzenegger and one of his movies is about cloning how about and say is called the fifth day and the side of the talk that's how they talk the same to bring them to Utah and a clone themselves. They just had him write the p and erase the pee. So there's something but the area is a mess and Utah is a mess easily cleaned up but a disaster so many people are gone they keep coming in from other countries huge piles of them all over the country all over the world these idiots the morlock. They will all be dead shortly probably within a few days.

There's a gigantic War on is humongous it's huge. There are about 450 trillions people guys each area serving their ships and the ships are losing all around and about one or two septillion in the area an hour and see is a huge battle definitely crazy well I don't even think that it's because of the pyramids. Giant worships are down, up to one hundred miles...out meaning most are huge that lasted. It's crazy I've never seen ships so big 500 mi ships floating in Sea it's crazy looking in the forest have them too and they're spaceships you keep saying for them to back off or they will be shot in fire department in the backs keep moving in and they fire on them and usually hello that's far back it's a war it's only like 30 really big ships back house and 20 of them are down 10 out of those 30 are out and the foreigners have about 50 ships at 100 miles or better on those 50 about 10 are 300. And a hold of their own but really if they follow the forest don't have anything so we can't really move in because it's like what's that s*** so so that's going it says if those spaceships fall that's all there is and he said oh no is develop something else and you look through you saw what was working and it's huge arms they cannons so he was enthused and it was Chris doesn't like these people sit here and grilling pepper for trial tell him it's going to have nothing and do it laterthey did it to his life several times since he can't remember it because her stupid themselves. Tommy ran with it and tons of people are copying him. Huge ships we're in the sky last night and we're owned and operated by Trump no no they are operated by Max and this argument later and it was awful was sitting there arguing stupid things

We found they were just having a meeting.

We have a bunch of interruptions all the time here and he was letting on but now he's screaming it these people were terrible yelling at it at us so this one's doing that this was doing that what you're saying is get rid of that one get rid of that one and take them down so I'm going to do that now this damned annoying it's retarded Max meaning all the max most of the regular ones they're complete jerks and do less than retarded maks do for our kids it was proved yesterday.

Very solid proof this is flying over and with ships demanding stuff that's what they do. I'm going to take care of these people they have no discipline at all think they can walk all over they gotta to go

It's on too cork is building chips everywhere huge ones and giant arms being mounted it's going very fast and the huge arms are sitting guarding the ships one 300 of Max came in to try and stop the ship and it was obliterated.

500 missiles are fired from that Russian grouping and yeah the first one is mixed. And it was fine at the enclave up north. Fall procedure one of them and fired missiles back and some of them were hit about 10 septillions of the 2000 and the forward group and they didn't like it. Tons of them are gritting their teeth hoping to invade the USA.

Saturday at sea I just sitting there hello and not moving out and we noticed that

We do have a plan for that and strategy foreigners have Jager and has not brought them out yet they want those Shatteredome.

We gained in several in Russia last night

We took the southern shatteredome in South America out of the two big ones yes and he's happy about it because he's being massively oppressed by this kind of sun Tommy f.

We are attempting to empty out the northern shatteredome the southern was a bear and the northern Shadow is a bear we have fought hard for days very hard by the way and we still have a huge security for us or Force at the southern to fight others who are coming up and approaching and it's taking a lot of time and energy but it'll work in the long run and we need certain armament that and we need that up north and can't break away anymore

Leaving Saturday in central Africa has been cleared and where mining it and it will be mined out of uranium later today it's a huge mine big giant shell and they start pouring later today tonight

There are three in the coconuts we took a caucuses and their ours. We're clearing them now we're going to mind them out today and tonight will fit them huge armies for trying to get at us and giant number of people were on Earth it was way too many it's amazing that I said made it so we say well we need him I need people pigs around they have to fight too many it's ruined the day and night of Max

The two Eastern shatteredome in Russia are fitted out and built out and yes the diamonds are too large to go through there and then sit below as wide as the shattered over itself we do have a plan for them

There are five shadow dome in the Middle East four fell to us last night and the 5th will be ours today wow and we will start building it out today and the four.

And that's about it for once we took today and yesterday now we have Chixalub and the other in the golf and they are emptying out no but they will be shortly because foreigners are going to come up from Mexico again and then fight the shatter domes here in the Gulf. Is there a gigantic epitaph against Tommy f and his father huge huge huge groups of soldiers who coming up checking numbers are infiltrating into the United States successfully and decimating the max ranks in the south it's almost turned over completely in the max come following in from the West in the North and the sail in from foreign countries, soon out yes out of Macs.

Corky will be out possibly today or the next few days and then huge movie start running ironically

There's a giant number of people who think we're nuts but they're doing it who's numbers from the south are going to be pouring up here today huge numbers of people be pouring into Florida they know who will and Bill are and our son and Ken and Garth is a few people there not to harm and stan is not to be harmed and Sherry. There's a few others and they're moving on to their invasion they're trying not to hurt rebels and they usually turn and go after Max

Is the shattered on my Western California is not empty either but it might be shortly as forces may come from the north we might let some down and not sure.

The whole world is embroiled right now because of this blockade and they won't let off on it and the shatteredome are being taken by us. Shortly after we take them we fit it out and we do activate the diamond and repel any who trying to approach having a lot of trouble with that in the Midwest and Australia tons are going to Australia now.

We aee deploying troops everywhere. The upper Midwest is falling it's hardly anybody there it's about one septillion and it will empty out tonight we feel to the east and we're going to use that opportunity to take the territory and wall It off and remove cities and several cities to be removed shortly and we have them almost ready we need to pull them out to get some stuff out of there so he says to remove them ASAP and if we can raid them to push them out. I didn't hear the warning from forgieners. However cannot comply. It's our tech and it has to come out tons of people are evacuated and they're going to the east tons more up right now and they're pouring out of the Midwest is like 10 something left there and they're coming out very quickly, I'm going to roll some bombs out that we took and level some areas and roof all the bunkers out momentarily I'm still doing the upper Midwest and they'll be out of bunkers outside the cities in about 3 hours awesome he says shortly those two areas will be empty possibly tonight and begin removing all of our things, what are the largest things to move out are the necromancer ships therefore gigantic ones and one humongous one and it took a lot of effort to get them in there so we want to use them and all around them and underneath and above them are smaller ships LOL some are 100 miles long and they're huge I think Hera just woke up and she's telling him not to wave at her. Hehe. That's nice I just woke up and told me what's going on and what he's been doing and it's great he's holding me telling me what it is and I can help too cuz I hear it as a giant number of troops coming this way from South America is a huge contingent coming from the north it's huge and he says we're asking the Midwest and it should be tonight hopefully probably could use something to get them out somehow to float out enough and then fall out not sure why they're all evacuating anyway you can exacerbate it later on and for Thor Freya I already have plans too. That's nice good to know and excellent work and yes and ships come out and the movie starts with what looks like ghwb and it could be because it gets out and goes to Hellboy and then goes into that movie serious we think or underworld after and then Hellboy Thor says that's accurate Freya adds it's conditional on the shape that's an upper Midwest is in and we have to raise the Kraken ASAP and we need that Kraken for jobs right now and for shatteredome really. I was going to meet right now because we need someone cracking and other things so they're not coming out and our boy here is that a sweet send is ordering it like a maniac and we need to send and set up a timetable.

It's beginning to work we're having a good time and I know where going through a rough patch people are ornery and we need people here sending them in requesting a lot more and for Christ's sake we need a base below since it everyday I'm just sit here looking at them because nothing stupid s***all right over him threatening him because tons of fighting in the cities but please we need a base here to control it I'm almost at my Wit's end. It says it when am I going to Utah you have to tell them troops have them prep so I didn't do that and it's part of the prep is getting them ready and we're going to go on it it's a marvelous idea he had it with a Bitol and Goddess Wife and Hera. He was thinking he wanted to sue them and she went nuts started suing and her guys doing it and then he said I need a lawyer and a huge firm was made and she was out of her mind was happiness she is now she hasn't seen him like this she's used to being repressed and oppressed and more than him and she's a woman. They've got company down there in Australia and she's going to get to work now when we're prepping for October it's only going to be 4 months away shortly has 120 days so she's smiling actually we have to get to work and get ready.

Today we are special day here I'm going to go over there in a minute

Thor Freya

Thank you for waking me up and you did and for telling me what's going on yeah almost every single point except for some of the invasion stuff in the fights Corky getting up and getting chips it's important this is a bastard 2 hours even if it doesn't do anything did I picked it up it's good it's very helpful and just wondering what movies will begin and then we're excited about this Red Dawn it's kind of a huge thing that's coming up and a massive Rub. But it's also a huge maneuver with the blasters and the soprano series begins and a lot of these people will be gone and keep on harassing us to death and some ridiculous thing to do in it that is completely unproductive and yes the ones in the ships will be up there dying

Hera good boy and yes let's hear it for the boy then play that song that would be great

Haha thank you.

Zues

And he asked me for something then he says like it's small money is supposed to be getting here somehow and I need help like doing that I'm not sure about this fund me thing. He said that and I said it's not bad but not many people try that I'm trying to mail it and we try to get it here once we know about we can scan and detect too it's a matter of fact we can't scan the text unless we're in the post office we need to get in there some people suffer if we don't

Hera

We shall I order it let me go after hospitals too those places are a nuisance what a pain in the ass

Thor Freya

They're terrible we were at the list of targets moving bathroom and use this craziness to do it and it will get us a presence

Olympus

We add to list now they're on the list but we're going to take their areas these idiots are bothering him need to lose her areas now before the blaster episode

0 notes