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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

what about yandere persephone and hades sharing a darling?

Ah, the most functional Olympian couple. That’s not saying a lot, though, considering how quick they’d be to argue when it comes to their Darling… I can only assume things would get out of hand rather quickly, all things considered.

Title: Lovers’ Quarrel.

TW: Unhealthy Relationship, Mentions of Kidnapping, Blood, Minor Injuries, and Implied Past Abuse.

Of all people, you’d thought Persephone would understand how you felt.

Sure, she’d come to love Hades with time. Not as romantically as the story-tellers would’ve liked, but there was a fondness in her eyes when she looked at him, the kind of endearment a friend would hold for their closest companion or the trust a queen would save for her favorite advisor. She’d come to terms with her place among the dead, with the throne she hadn’t asked for, but once, she’d been a captive, a prisoner in a realm she didn’t fully understand, of a man she didn’t know to trust. She’d been like you. She’d been just as confused as you were, just as devastated, just as scared. She must’ve been.

But, it’d been centuries since then. She’d had so much time to grow comfortable, so much time to adjust. She’d had so much time to forget, and you could only assume she’d used it wisely.

You’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t, if you were in her place.

If Persephone harbored any sympathy for you, she didn’t feel the need to put it on display. Rather, her gaze was cold, unyielding, her smile sharp and careless as she fiddled with the hem of your clothing, her other hand splayed over your hip, keeping you pinned in her lap without so much as a solid grip. Chains and cuffs were unnecessary, despite her husband’s concerns. You’d been little more than a pliable doll since you first laid eyes on her, since she first pulled you into her arms, ran her fingers through your hair, and asked so sweetly if you’d behave for her. Part of it was fear, most of it was fear, but you could hardly be blamed for letting her intimidate you. Her resemblance to her mother was apparent, but whereas Demeter’s warmth was only faded by experience and loss, Persephone was simply faded. As if someone had drained the color from beneath her tan skin and replaced it with molten ivory. As if her blood had been exchanged for ice long ago, and the cold was all that survived.

“We should’ve waited a few more days,” Hades muttered, his voice low and gruff, abruptly reminding you of his presence. He was seated less than an arm’s length away from Persephone, from you, but if she was winter chill, a wind so intense and cutting you couldn’t hope to ignore it, he was the ice that lingered beneath more hospitable snow, all pale skin and dull edges and dark eyes that made you want to look away and sink further into Persephone’s chest, an instinct she encouraged with a light squeeze to your side. With an idle grace, she tilted her head in his direction, silently signaling him to continue without letting her sight stray from the court. A spirit was still pleading his case, trying to win a more favorable afterlife than the Asphodel Meadows, but if either deity was listening to his impassioned speech, neither felt the need to do so attentively. Persephone usually took joy in the morbid proceedings of the Underworld, but even she was distracted, today. You could only lament being the cause of their disturbance. “Look at (Y/n), they’re practically shaking. If we just gave them a little more time--”

“If anyone’s shaking, it’s because someone only knows one way to invite people into his home.” Persephone’s retort was flawless, her tone never wavering nor shaking, but you winced at the mention of your… invitation, as she’d put it. Your skin was bruised where his fingertips had dug into your wrists, pinning your hands at the base of your spine as you thrashed and screamed, and you could still feel a steady ache where your stomach had been pushed against the edge of his chariot. Your discomfort must’ve been obvious, because Hades sent you a regretful glance, the closest he’d come to apologizing since your arrival. The closest he would ever come, if his pride was as unswallowable as his brother’s. “This is fine,” She went on. “You’d much rather be with me than locked inside of that cramped, lonely bedroom, wouldn’t you, my love?”

“I don’t mind my chambers,” You mumbled, letting your attention fall the stone floor. It was a simple arrangement, as plain as a room could be when gold and gemstones were used in the place of clay and stone, but you liked it. Or, rather, you liked having a place to be alone, especially when your hosts were so determined not to give you that luxury. “If you’d like me to leave, I can--”

You couldn’t finish, you didn’t get the chance to, not before she caught you by the jaw. Long, pointed nails threatened to pierce your skin as she tilted your head back, forcing you to meet her eyes despite your frantic attempts to avoid her stare. “I don’t think that was the question,” She said, her thumb digging into your cheek, drawing something warm and wet that you desperately didn’t want to identify. “I asked if you wanted to be with me. And I do expect the answer to be agreeable, if that isn’t too difficult for you to handle.”

You opened your mouth, a plea for her forgiveness already playing on your tongue, but Hades was faster than you were, holding up a hand to silence the proceedings as he leaned onto the arm of his seat, twisting his body to direct an unadulterated glare towards his wife. “Don’t resort to that so soon,” He snapped, gesturing vaguely as he spoke. “Be gentle. Keep your temper in check, or you’ll break your toy before you even get the chance to play with it.”

“You’re acting as if this is my doing.” When Hades bristled, Persephone was quick to respond in turn, growing hostile, baring her teeth but releasing you all the same. Instead, she took you by the collar of your robes, keeping you grounded as she spoke not to you or her husband, but for herself. Aiming to stoke her own sense of righteousness as much as to nurture Hades’ anger, nursing it the way a survivalist would a flame. “Remind me, dearest, whose idea was it to bring our beloved home? Which one of us wasn’t satisfied with admiring from a distance?” She paused, tapping her chin in faux-thought. “You might call me volatile, but between the two of us, who lost their temper first?”

That earned a grimace. Persephone wrapped an arm around your midriff, but you couldn’t be sure whether the gesture was meant to be protectively or possessive. “Watch your tongue. Whether it’s your gift or mine, it can still be taken away.”

Persephone huffed, letting out an airy, desolate chuckle. “You’re not my master--”

“I am.” Unlike Persephone, his declaration was absent of her playful levity. “You’re in my domain, and therefore, you belong to me. As long as you’re here, I am your sovereign, and my word is law. Keep that in mind the next time you decide when and where to discipline your pet.”

Persephone’s jaw clenched, her gaze narrowing into something vicious, but she relented without further argument, and your heart skipped a beat before resuming its normal rhythm. You hadn’t noticed you weren’t able to breathe, not until Persephone’s grip loosened and a crushing tension shattered in your chest, earning a sigh of relief echoed by Hades as he fell back into his throne, allowing the trail to continue with a single, easy nod. You wanted to relax, to let yourself ease into a more tranquil state of panic, but with a guiding hand, Persephone pushed her fingers in your hair and guided you towards the crook of her neck. For a moment, you thought it was her final selfish act of the day, an instance that, if you were going to rest, you were going to do so because she allowed it. That may’ve been true, but she had something to say, too, even if you couldn’t be sure she cared that you were listening. “Don’t listen to him,” She whispered, her voice tender but far from empathetic.

“He just wants to make himself seem nice before he breaks you in.”

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lu-undy · 4 years

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What about if Perle met a nice, slim black cat? A male that perhaps is the father of her kittens, and Mundy and Lu are seeing him for the first time as he courts Perle outside the base? Spy could compare the wild, outdoorsy cat to his lover, Mundy.

Excellent suggestion! I did write it a bit in one of my longer stories but here it is, in a bit more detail.

“Meow.”

"You were right, Mundy, the kittens are not running away."

"Told ya, she's raisin' them right, aren't you, pretty cat?"

Mundy and Lucien were outside in the desert. They had spread some cloth on the floor and were enjoying a snack with Perle and her young kittens. She had had a litter of four a few months before. All were black and white, some with longer hair than others, like their mother.

"Mundy?"

"Hm?" Mundy turned and saw his lover hold a grape for him in front of his mouth. He ate it and pushed his lips on Lucien's cheek. "Love ya."

"So do I."

The kittens were playing with each other, mewling happily, while Perle was lying between her masters, being spoilt like a queen. One was scratching her head, and the other, her back. She purred and purred until she rose to her feet and stretched. Mundy and Lucien didn't pay much attention to it as they dived back in their conversation while playing with the kittens.

"D'you want to keep them?" Mundy asked.

"Whom?"

"The kittens."

"I do not know. What do you think? Should we keep them?"

"No idea. But if we do, they're gonna need names, eh."

"Ah, oui, you are right…"

They looked at the kittens. All were white with black patches or the other way around.

"There are two ladies and two gentlemen, oui?"

"Yeah."

"So we need two masculine names and two feminine ones. And please, if you accept, they have to work in French too."

"Okay, let's have a think… This one, it's a female and she's black with a white patch on her head… Why not Star?"

"Étoile." Lucien translated. "That is a beautiful name."

"Yeah, and it suits her cause the patch on her head looks like a star a bit."

"Ah oui, you are right, mon amour. What about this one?"

[My love.]

"Your turn, you choose for him." Mundy said.

"Fine. It's a young gentleman… Why not Diamant?"

"What's that in English? Diamond?"

"Oui. The patch on his back is roughly shaped like a diamond, non?"

"Yeah, that works… Ok, my turn for this baby boy, hm…" Mundy pondered. "He's black with only white paws so… uh… Glove?"

"Glove?" Lucien repeated.

"Yeah, he looks like he's wearing white gloves."

"It would sound a bit strange in French but it suits him, he shall be Glove then."

"And that last one?" Mundy asked.

Lucien took her in his hand and scratched her head. The little kitten opened wide eyes and mewled.

"You, you are a lady, mostly white, but with a black tail… Hm…" He left a gentle kiss in her fur. "What about Encre? It means 'ink' in French. She looks like she dipped her tail in some black ink."

Mundy smiled.

"Go for Inky then! So in the end we have Star, Diamond, Glovy and Inky, right?"

"Or," Lucien translated, "Étoile, Diamant, Gant et Encre. Oui, that works."

They exchanged a smile and a peck on the lips and when they parted, Perle was meowing at them.

"Meow."

"Oh, hello there pretty cat, who's that you brought with you, eh? Is that a friend?"

Perle had returned with a black, short haired, adult cat. His eyes were green and he looked quite slimmer than her because of his shorter fur.

"Bonjour, toi."

[Hello, you.]

The black cat approached and the kittens backed up in Lucien and Mundy's lap, mewling repeatedly.

"Oh, they're scared, luv'." Mundy took two, one in each hand, and Lucien copied him.

"This is the first time Perle brings a friend to me. Did you just happen to meet him or her?" Lucien asked his lady cat.

"It's a he, luv'." Mundy corrected him.

"Oh, my apologies, bonjour Monsieur."

[Hello, Sir.]

Lucien and Mundy watched as Perle and him brushed their fur against each other, the same way Perle brushed herself on their legs. Mundy looked at the kittens in his hands and back at the black cat, purring with Perle.

"Oh, God…"

"What?" Lucien asked, oblivious.

"That isn't her friend…"

"What?" Lucien pulled the kittens to his chest defensively. He thought that Mundy had meant that cat was a threat.

"No, love, he's… He's their dad, he's Perle's… mate."

Lucien's jaw dropped to the ground.

"Look at the kittens, they're black and white and some have short hair, like him. The eyes match too, Star and Diamond have the same as he does."

Perle purred as they both lied down one against the other, on the cloth.

"This is the father of your children?" Lucien asked Perle.

"Meow." She answered and both Lucien and Mundy watched as he spooned her and licked her clean.

"Grand Dieu…"

[Good Lord…]

"You can let go of the kids, he won't do anythin' to them."

"How can you be so sure?" Lucien asked.

"If he had wanted to harm them or scare them, he would have done it, regardless of us having them in our hands." Mundy said as he released the kittens. They trotted to their parents and laid down next to their mother.

"He looks quite slim."

"I guess he's a stray or something. We should feed him some."

"Wait-" Lucien interrupted him and put a hand on Mundy's. "Perle, I trust your judgement but I have to ask him a few questions."

"What?" Mundy chuckled.

"This is extremely serious, Mundy, I won't let any stray approach Perle or her children, not on my watch."

Mundy rolled his eyes with a smile. Lucien's protective behaviour amused him.

"She didn't exactly wait for you to give your blessing to go and do her business with him, eh?"

"Oui, but still, I must insist. Perle has been my best friend for years now and it is the least I can do. So, Monsieur, what is your name? And what are your intentions with this family? I must warn you that if your answers are not satisfactory to me or Mundy, then we shall make sure you do not even lay a hair on Perle and her children. Now, some answers please."

Mundy watched as the black cat answered by licking Perle's head, behind her ear. She turned and licked his head back.

"A bit of decency please!" Lucien asked and Mundy chuckled again. "You may kiss the bride at the end if no one opposes this union, but for now, a name and an intention!"

"My name's Soot and I intend to take care of Pearl and my kids if you don't mind." Mundy answered.

"Soot?" Lucien repeated.

"Yeah, cause I'm black, see?"

"Oui, I can see very well, thanks. Now, do you promise to take care of Perle and her children until death do you apart?" Lucien went on, half dramatically.

"Yeah, but which life are you talking about? I'm running on my third right now, eh." Mundy answered for the black cat.

"Well, the third and all those who will come after!" Lucien replied. "Taking care of a family is the commitment of a lifetime and I will personally make sure that you treat Perle and her children in the best fashion."

"Love?" Mundy asked.

"What?"

"Look at them."

Perle and Soot rose to their feet. Perle trotted to her master and meowed, pushing her nose against the plastic bags with treats. Mundy opened it and laid a few on his palm. She took one and it crunched under her needle-like teeth.

"Soot, c'mon boy, come and get yours."

The black cat raised a paw but seemed hesitant. Perle looked at him and waved her tail gently. He took a step but not more so Mundy bent forward to meet him halfway.

"Take it, I'm not the overprotective one, eh."

Lucien raised an eyebrow. He was about to answer when Soot finally came closer and ate in Mundy's hand.

"Good boy, that's it… Lu', give me your hand, and remove your gloves."

Lucien obeyed and Mundy gave him a treat in his hand.

"Give it to him."

"But-"

"Oi, c'mon, manners, this is Perle's hubby now."

"Ah, oui, fine. My apologies, here you go Monsieur Soot." Lucien extended his arm and the cat took the treat.

"Good boy." Mundy scratched his head before putting more treats on the ground. The whole family shared their snack under the sound of their teeth crushing them.

Lucien leaned on Mundy's shoulder.

"He reminds me of you." He said.

"How? I don't have green eyes." Mundy joked.

"Non, it is true, but you too were a bit of a wild stray up until we met, non?"

Mundy wrapped an arm around Lucien and squeezed him.

"Yeah, a bit. And then I met you, like Perle, awfully well-mannered and posh as all hell. And like Perle, you showed me there's more to life than the wild and lonely side of it."

"Hm, I think you are right. But this isn't the only common point."

"Oh?"

"Oui, Perle never had kittens when we were living in Paris. She likes her gentlemen exotic, so do I."

Mundy smiled.

"I'm exotic now, am I?"

"Oui, very much so. A delicacy from another hemisphere and another continent."

"Ooh, I like the sound of that, eh…" Mundy bent down and they quickly kissed each other.

"Meow?"

They looked down. Perle had meowed.

"Oui?" Lucien answered.

Soot and her were sitting side by side and she leaned her head on him.

"I think she's asking you if he can live with us, love."

Perle came forward and brushed herself on Mundy.

"Yep, yeah she definitely is asking that."

"Monsieur Soot," Lucien said, taking a treat in his hand. "Welcome home." He offered it to the cat who came closer and took it between his teeth.

The cat sat between Lucien's crossed legs and rested his chin on the Frenchman's ankle.

"C'mon, pet him, love, show him he's welcome here."

Lucien obeyed and let his fingers approach Soot's head. It was shy at first but he quickly felt more comfortable as the male cat started purring.

"Lu'?"

"Oui?" Lucien looked up at his lover who was petting Perle.

"I think we're keepin' the kittens and Soot too."

"I think so too, on one condition."

Mundy raised an eyebrow.

"You don't forget to take care of me too?" He asked with his fair blue eyes and that sight made Mundy's guts fuzzy and warm.

"Don't worry, I won't."

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy

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three-drink-amy · 5 years

Text

If After All These Years, You’d Like to Meet

Note: Thanks to all the people who encouraged me to update this! It was always the plan to update it, but it helps to know people want more to read! It certainly helped me write it faster. I just hope you enjoy this new chapter! You’ll know what I mean when you read it.

master list - AO3

Chapter Sixteen

Claire felt a tear roll down her cheek as her head tilted back in laughter. She smacked a hand on the table in front of her.

“It’s no’ funny, Claire,” Jenny protested.

Claire shook her head at her phone. “Okay, but you have to understand, from my perspective, it’s fantastic!”

“Ye think it’s fantastic that a toy ye bought my son for his birthday is turning my home into madness?” Jenny asked, making a face as they video chatted. “Ye kent what ye were doing, Claire Beauchamp.”

“Of course I did,” Claire admitted. “But come on, I’ve never bought an Aunt gift before. I asked Jamie if he thought Wee Jamie would like it and he said I should get it. At least it’s not a drum set.”

Jenny rolled her eyes. “Gee, Maggie’s birthday is in January. Should I expect that you’ll get her that now?”

Claire grinned. “That’s two months away. I can’t predict what amazing toy I’ll find before then.”

Jenny shook her head, though a reluctant smile crossed her face. “Whatever, Claire.”

“Really, you should be touched that your brother’s girlfriend bought presents for your child,” Claire reminded her. “His girlfriend of only a few months.”

“I’d think that was impressive if ye hadna met them before ye were his girlfriend,” Jenny said. “And also, ye came up for his party. What were ye to do, not get him something? Five year olds demand gifts at their parties. No matter how well we attempt to raise them.”

Claire laughed. “That’s fair. He did seem to have a good amount of those. I’m pleased that a full month later, he’s still taken with mine.”

Jenny shook her head. “Ye just wait till ye have bairns, Claire. I’ll be buying the most obnoxious toys for them, whether they’re my nieces and nephews or not!”

Claire grimaced. “Oh no. If I remember anything about a young Jenny Fraser, it was that she certainly kept her word. Even when you didn’t want her to.” Jenny grinned. “I’m a bit afraid of this promise.”

“As ye should be. I imagine before that time comes, my children will have a fair few birthdays. So choose yer gifts wisely, Claire,” Jenny said with a raise of her brow.

“Noted,” Claire conceded, smiling.

“Well I should go. I think I hear some naps ending upstairs.” Jenny looked nervously up to the ceiling. “It was lovely to chat wi’ ye.”

“And you,” Claire agreed. “Give the children my best. And Ian.”

“Aye, and ye do the same wi’ my brother,” Jenny added. Claire looked up to see Geillis walk into her flat. She motioned with her finger that she was on a call. “Oh wait, while I still have ye!” Jenny called before Claire could hang up. “Tell Jamie that the thing he requested from Lallybroch was too precious for me to send so Ian is bringing it. He’ll be down on Wednesday.”

Claire nodded. “Am I supposed to know what this precious object is?”

“If ye were supposed to, I wouldna have been so vague,” Jenny replied with a cheeky grin. “Just let Jamie know.”

“Alright, I will. Bye, Jenny!”

“Talk to ye soon, Claire!”

They both waved before ending the video call. Claire looked up at Geillis, surprised by the look of awe and mischief covering her face. “What?”

“So that’s gotta be a ring, right?” Geillis asked. Claire rolled her eyes. “You really don’t know what Jamie asked his sister for?”

She shook her head. “No. But I don’t have to know every little thing Jamie does or says, you realize? I really doubt it’s a ring.”

“Claire, come on! It’s “too precious to send” and so she’s sending it in person? That’s absolutely an engagement ring! Oh my god, I can’t believe Jamie is going to propose! Ah, you’re going to be engaged!”

Claire sighed as she watched her friend get excited over nothing. “Geillis, you can calm down. It’s not a ring. And honestly, I don’t want it to be a ring.”

Geillis dropped her arms and stared at Claire. “Why not?”

“We’ve been together for only four months. That would be far too soon for a proposal.”

“So what will you do if it is a ring and Jamie does propose?” Geillis posed.

Claire took a deep breath. “I’m not actually sure. But I don’t want us to get married yet. It’s too soon.”

“Well you better think on it and be sure of what you’ll do before next Wednesday,” Geillis pushed. “Because I guarantee that it’s a ring.”

“Did you come for something?” Claire asked, feeling annoyed by her friend.

“Oh yeah, I just got off of work and knew you had the day off. I was just coming to see what you were up to.”

Claire stared at her friend, feeling less and less like spending time with her. Surely if they went out, Geillis would spend the whole time talking about whatever Jenny was sending to Jamie. She kindly lied, saying she was busy and that Jamie had made plans for them later. There was no telling if Geillis bought it or decided to just leave her alone. Either way, she left and allowed Claire her peace and quiet.

The problem was that once she was alone, she started to spiral. Part of her said there was surely no way Jamie was about to propose. A dark voice in her head agreed with Geillis though. Claire loved Jamie. She loved him more than anyone she’d ever been with. But she wasn’t ready for them to get married. There were so many other steps she envisioned them taking before they got to that point. They’d only been together for four months. It was simply too damn soon for him to be expecting them to make that step.

Claire tried to make herself busy before Jamie got home. She cleaned and started to make dinner, hoping it would take her mind off Geillis’s arguments. Her endeavor was only moderately successful. By the time Jamie got home, she had managed to push it maybe an inch or two back in her mind.

Claire tried to seem normal all throughout dinner. Jamie had thankfully had an eventful day which led to him talking about it all as they ate. They were having an easy night in, like most nights. It couldn’t require Claire to talk too much. Her mind was still reeling over the possibilities of this precious cargo.

She was sitting on the couch next to Jamie, barely paying attention to the movie they were watching. Jamie looked over at her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Are ye alright, Sassenach?” Claire turned to look at him, raising her eyebrows in response. “Ye’ve just been a bit quiet this evening is all.”

Claire shrugged. “I’m just a bit tired, I think.”

Jamie chuckled. “But ye had the day off.”

“Well it was a draining week. I guess it just caught up with me,” she lied. He watched her for a moment before he nodded, either in understanding or because he wasn’t going to push her further. Jamie reached over to grab a pillow before putting it in his lap. Claire understood his meaning, meeting his gaze with a smile. She laid her head down on the pillow, allowing him to provide her comfort. His hand was quickly in her hair, massaging her head. It helped her relax. As she laid there, curled up with the man she loved, she started to forget the anxiety that had been plaguing her since the afternoon.

When she went back to work that weekend, a potential proposal was the furthest thing from her mind. Monday and Tuesday also, blessedly, left her distracted enough that her mind never cycled back to it. Her days were filled with normalcy, not with thoughts that left her spiraling and unsure.

But then Wednesday came. And with Wednesday’s arrival brought Ian’s arrival. Claire was still at the hospital when she got Jamie’s text saying that Ian would be there by dinner time. At first she was excited. She and Ian had always gotten along very well. They often bonded over the crazy Frasers, even if they were both madly devoted to them. As she started to think of what Ian’s visit might be like, the thought of what he was bringing with him returned.

Suddenly, Claire’s stomach was tied in knots again. It would be one thing if it was a ring and Jamie just planned to hold onto it for a long time. There were no guarantees though. What would happen if Jamie thought they were ready for marriage and Claire didn’t? What if he proposed and she said, “No, not yet.” Would they survive that? There was no way Jamie would just bounce right back and be alright with her rejection, even if it was really just a raincheck.

Claire sat down on the bench in the doctors’ locker room and closed her eyes. What would happen to them? She knew without a doubt that she didn’t have a future without Jamie. He had to be in her life. But she also knew without a doubt that she wasn’t ready for him to propose yet. Claire shook her head with a huff before she stood up to leave the hospital.

By the time she got to Jamie’s flat, her mind had spiraled and come back to reason so many times she had mental whiplash. All she really wanted was the comfort of Jamie’s presence, even if his theoretical actions were the ones causing her trouble.

Opening the door, she heard Jamie greet her. Claire set her purse on the floor and walked with purpose over to him before she pinned him against his fridge and kissed him senseless. His hands quickly found her waist as he eagerly responded. Her tongue was in his mouth when she heard and felt him moan as he pulled her closer. The small part of her brain that could form thought hoped they had enough time before Ian got there to really act on this. Her hands strayed to pull up his shirt when someone cleared their throat behind her. Reluctantly, Claire pulled away from Jamie and turned to see Ian standing by Jamie’s couch wearing an amused grin. Claire quickly pulled her hands off of Jamie and ran a hand nervously down her scrub top. “Sorry,” she said in a quiet voice.

Ian laughed. “No worries. I remember a time like that before I had five children.”

“I didn’t realize you were here yet,” Claire explained.

“To be fair, ye didna ask,” Jamie reminded her.

She turned back and looked at him. “Are you complaining?”

He grinned. “Nope.”

She shook her head with a matching grin. “Anyway, hi Ian. How was your trip down?”

Ian shrugged. “Uneventful. Bit light on the food though. The two of ye wouldna by chance also be starving?”

Jamie and Claire both chuckled. “Yes, let’s go eat,” Claire offered. “Just let me change out of my scrubs first.” Both men nodded and she walked off toward Jamie’s room. She had at least a few outfits stashed there. Their voices carried back to Jamie’s room as she scurried around to look more presentable.

“Oh wait, I have something for ye,” she heard Ian say.

“Oh right! Thanks for bringing that, by the way,” Jamie replied.

Claire froze. She took a few deep breaths before she resumed changing. “It doesn’t mean it’s a ring,” she whispered to herself. “It could be anything. It doesn’t even have to be for me.”

“Claire, ye about ready?” Jamie called back to her.

She decided to leave her hair up in the very messy bun. Shaking her head to clear it, she strode out to go eat with the other two.

Entertaining conversations with Ian and Jamie were a good distraction from the anxiety eating away at her stomach. By the time they all got back to Jamie’s flat, she’d calmed down again, though the thoughts still lingered at the back of her mind.

It wasn’t until Friday night that the full weight of her thoughts had consequences.

Claire entered her home, surprised by the smell of garlic wafting through the air. She inhaled deeply, greatly appreciating the smell. Even more than that, she appreciated the sight of Jamie standing at her stove, cooking for her. As she walked up behind him, she laced her arms around his waist. He startled slightly before turning around to hug her properly. “Hi,” she greeted simply. Jamie’s reply was in his kiss.

Jamie turned off the stove and plated the pasta for them. Claire wandered to find the bottle of wine she knew she’d hidden. Their food was on the table and dinner was seconds away when Jamie grabbed Claire’s hand and directed her toward the couch instead. Confused, she followed him without comment. He sat down with an excited look on his face and motioned for her to sit next to him.

“So before Ian left to go back to Scotland, he left me with something that I wanted to give to ye,” he explained. Claire’s stomach tightened. This was the moment she’d been dreading since Jenny had told her about it a week ago. No matter how many times she’d dwelled on it, Claire had never come to a conclusion of what she would do if Jamie proposed. Her mind was battling itself as he talked. Part of her was yelling for him not to do it, the other was constantly repeating that it wasn’t a ring. She was missing what he was saying. “This was very important to me and so I wanted it to be yers.” Jamie stood up slightly, pulling a small jewelry box from his pocket. “Claire, -”

“No, Jamie, don’t do it!” Claire bellowed at him before she could stop herself.

Jamie froze, staring down at her in confusion. “What?”

She looked at the box he’d just opened, a sigh escaping her. “Oh my god, they’re just earrings.”

He watched her, a realization dawning on his face. “Ye thought it was a ring?”

Claire shrugged. “Maybe a little,” she reached for the box, “But -” Jamie cut her off as he snapped the box back shut. He backed away from the couch, shaking his head. “Jamie…” she said, hoping to figure out what he was thinking.

He turned back to look at her, pain clear on his face. “Ye thought I was proposing.” Claire opened her mouth to explain but he continued. “Ye thought I was proposing and that was yer reaction?”

“Oh God,” Claire cried, dropping her head into her hands. “No, it wasn’t like that.”

“Well then tell me what it was like, Claire,” Jamie demanded, a hard edge to his voice that she wasn’t used to. “Because I may not have been proposing now, but I rather figured if I ever did I’d get a better reaction than that.”

“It’s just too soon!” Claire explained in a small voice. “I was scared that you were proposing too soon.”

Jamie shook his head. “I was giving ye my mother’s earrings. But, Christ, forget that now.” Claire let out a small gasp. “Would it have really been that bad if I had been proposing?”

“Jamie, we’ve only been together for four months,” Claire reminded him.

“I realize that,” he replied. “But I also ken that we’re no’ a normal couple. I mean it’s no’ as though we met four months ago and started from zero. I basically know everything about ye and ye wi’ me. And yet ye feel the need to scream at me to stop me? What if I had been actually proposing? How do ye think that would have gone?”

Claire sighed, sinking further into the couch. “I don’t know. I never said it was a brilliant plan. I just freaked out.”

Jamie ran a hand down his face. “I never really thought that if I’d propose to ye, ye’d freak out. I thought we wanted the same things.”

Panic coursed through Claire at that statement. She stood up, walking towards him. At her first step in his direction, he took a step back. “We do. Of course we want the same things.”

“Do we? I ken it’s early into this, but I see us getting there. Do ye?” Jamie asked her, his voice breaking at the end.

Her eyes were filling with tears. “Yes. Someday. But it’s too soon now. I mean, I was with Frank for three years and I would have married him. It wasn’t until the last several months of our relationship that it seemed so terrible.”

Mentioning Frank was clearly the wrong move. Jamie’s eyes went wide. “Well, Christ, I didna realize our relationship would be ye holding that man’s faults on me. Frank may have been a controlling, unsupportive prick, but that doesna mean I am as well. Ye’ve said yerself that what we have is different.”

“I know it is, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready for marriage already. We’ve never even talked about it,” Claire defended. “Look, why don’t we just forget about this and eat dinner?”

Jamie shook his head. “I’m no’ hungry anymore.” With a sigh he took a few steps toward the door. “I need to think.”

“No, Jamie, don’t leave,” Claire pleaded, meeting him at the door. “Please.”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I just canna be here right now.” Without a look back at her, he opened the door and was gone.

Claire stood there, frozen, unable to believe what had happened that evening. If anyone had asked her, she’d have said that she and Jamie pretty much had a perfect relationship. How in the span of a few minutes had he just left? How had she fucked things up so badly that he needed to think? She felt the tears stream down her face moments before she slid down the door.

An undetermined amount of time had passed when Claire realized she was halfway through the bottle of wine she’d opened. Still berating herself for the mess she’d gotten them into, she picked up her phone to share the misery. Deciding to text Geillis, she typed out her frustration into a single message. It read: fuck you.

It wasn’t long before Geillis called Claire, hoping to discover the true meaning behind the text. When Claire answered in tears, barely able to speak, Geillis quickly ended the call by saying she was coming over.

Another glass of wine later, Geillis and Louise let themselves into her flat. Claire sat on the floor between her couch and coffee table as she was still sobbing. It had been a constant stream since Jamie had left. Louise knelt down next to Claire, concern clear on her face. “Claire, what happened?”

“Why don’t you ask Geillis? It’s all her fault,” Claire said, her voice dripping with disdain as she glared at her friend.

“Is this because of what we talked about last week?” Geillis asked hesitantly.

Claire nodded, wiping tears from her face.

Louise looked back at Geillis. “What happened?”

“I told Claire I thought Jamie was going to propose, based on something I heard his sister say to Claire,” Geillis explained.

Louise looked over at Claire. “Did he?” Claire shook her head. “So what happened then? I’m very confused.”

Claire clutched her wine glass tighter to her as she told her friends all that had been said. She watched as both their faces fell. “I think it might be over,” Claire let herself voice. She closed her eyes as more tears streamed down her face. “I’ve called and texted him a ton of times since he called and he hasn’t responded once.”

“Well that’s the first problem,” Louise said, grabbing Claire’s phone from her. “Geillis, go hide this,” she added, handing the phone off to the other woman.

“Why?” Claire begged. “I need my phone. I need to talk to Jamie!”

“No, you need to let Jamie think. He’s just going to get irritated if he is trying to process his feelings and you keep calling him every other minute,” Louise insisted. “Now, how much have you had to drink?”

Claire huffed. “A lot.”

“Maybe we should switch to water,” Louise offered.

“No!” Claire cried, hiding her glass from Louise. Geillis walked back in the room as Claire curled her legs into herself. “I really fucked this up,” Claire whispered. “I can’t lose Jamie. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.” She dropped her head to her knees. “What am I going to do?”

Louise ran a hand comfortingly up and down Claire’s back. “You’re going to be fine. If anything, this is just a fight. Just a misunderstanding that got a bit out of control. But it’s you and Jamie. You guys are perfect for each other. I promise you this isn’t over.”

“Yeah, well Geillis promised me that Jamie had a ring. And not only was she wrong, but she got in my head and made me get freaked out,” Claire reminded them. “So I’m sorry if I’m not buying your promises.”

She took another long drink of wine as her friends exchanged a concerned glance over her head.

~~~

“Jamie, we were so thrilled ye asked us out tonight,” Rupert greeted with a cheery voice. “It was shaping up to be a boring evening.” Angus nodded next to him.

Jamie looked up at them, already a couple of drinks in. “Sit,” he ordered. He noticed the shock on Rupert’s face at his tone. A quick look exchanged between Rupert and Angus showed their concern before they joined Jamie in the booth.

“So, uh, where is Claire this evening?” Rupert ventured.

“I dinna want to talk about Claire,” Jamie replied gruffly.

Another concerned look was shared between Jamie’s companions. “Christ, did ye break up?” Angus asked.

“No.”

“Well then what happened?” Rupert pressed.

“Honestly, I dinna ken,” Jamie answered. “It was supposed to be a good evening and it all blew up.”

“Did she cheat on ye?” Angus asked in a menacing tone. “Because if she did, I’ll -”

“No,” Jamie assured him. “No, she just…” he sighed, trying to find the right words. “She just broke my heart a bit.”

Rupert clapped him on the shoulder. “Well are we to drink about it?”

“Aye, we are.”

Both men nodded, Angus jumped up to get the newcomers both their first round. The three of them drank in silence for a while. Angus and Rupert seemed to cautious to push Jamie for the details. As it was, Jamie didn’t have the words to really express what had happened. He hadn’t been about to propose, but she’d still wrecked him.

Finally, Jamie spoke. “Have ye ever thought ye kent exactly where ye were headed only to be thrown for a loop?”

Rupert cleared his throat. “I suppose all of us have at some point, aye.”

“I never thought I’d have it happen with Claire,” Jamie admitted. “I thought if we figured it out and got together, it would be fine. I never expected for her to…” He stopped and shook his head before taking a long drink of his beer. “I thought I knew how things would go between us, but I guess I was wrong. Now I’m just sitting here, reevaluating it all. At what point did she zig while I zagged?”

“I thought ye said ye didna break up?” Rupert asked.

“We haven’t. But I’m jus’ no’ sure we want the same things. And I canna imagine having less than that wi’ her,” Jamie explained, a stray tear escaping his eye. He shook his head. “And now I feel I’ll worry that at any time she’ll just change her mind.” Rupert’s brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to say something but Jamie stopped him. “No, let’s just drink. I dinna want to talk about Claire right now. It’s best for me to try and take my mind off of it.”

Angus and Rupert nodded next to him. “Alright, then let’s drink,” Rupert said, raising his glass.

~~~

Claire had consumed far too much alcohol when Louise shoved a glass of water into her hands. She still hadn’t moved from her place on the floor. Geillis was sitting on the couch behind her and Louise had stayed on the floor next to Claire. The sound of a key in the door got Claire’s hopes up. But as she looked up, it wasn’t Jamie that entered her home. It was John. His eyes went wide as he saw Claire’s state. “Umm...what the hell is going on? Is Jamie here?” he asked.

Louise shook her head, but it was Geillis who spoke. “Dear God, dinna say the “J” word!”

John looked confused. “Seriously, what is going on? Claire looks miserable and further gone than I’ve ever seen her and I got a really strange call from Jamie.”

Claire looked up at him again, desperation coursing through her. “You’ve heard from Jamie? Where is he?”

“Honestly, I don’t know where he is,” John said, kneeling on the other side of the coffee table. “I tried his flat but he wasn’t there. I figured he was here but apparently not.”

“What was weird about his call?” Louise asked.

“He called and said he wanted to fight someone so he could feel something,” John recalled for them with a grim expression. Both Louise and Geillis grimaced at the story.

“Goodness,” Louise remarked. “Wait, was he going to fight you?”

John laughed. “No, actually. He said he knows my brother is a jerk and so he wanted to fight him so that he won’t feel bad about it when he sobers up.”

Claire felt fresh tears roll down her face but she couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh. “That’s actually quite sound logic,” she admitted.

“Okay, so what happened?” John asked, looking at Claire.

She shook her head, unwilling to relive it all again. Louise rubbed a hand against her back and told John the story. “Really, it was all just a big misunderstanding,” Louise concluded. “But we can’t go find Jamie because we have our hands a bit full here.”

“I need to find him,” Claire announced, trying and failing to stand up.

“No, Claire, ye need to sleep,” Geillis said, urging her back to the floor. “Ye’re bound to have a wicked hangover tomorrow and ye’ll not help it trying to bounce around London in yer condition.”

“I can’t sleep without setting things right between us,” Claire cried.

“Look Claire, in your state, and surely in Jamie’s, things aren’t going to be fixed tonight,” Louise said regretfully. “But you can sleep off your drunkenness and allow Jamie to do the same.”

“I don’t even know where he is.”

Louise took a deep breath. “Well here’s what we’ll do then,” she offered. “You’ll go to sleep, because as Geillis said, you’re in no shape to go anywhere right now. And John will go find Jamie and he will make sure that he gets home safely and is taken care of. You trust John to do that, right?”

Claire eyed John with a critical look. “I guess.”

John flashed a small smile as he stood up. “Good idea, Louise. Yes, I’ll go find Jamie and make sure he gets his rest too. You just worry about yourself right now, Claire. I’ll see you soon.” He mouthed “good luck” to Louise and Geillis before he walked back out Claire’s door.

Claire’s friends succeeded in convincing her to go to bed. Wine didn’t usually make her tired, but after the amount of glasses she’d had, she was starting to fade. It was a couple of hours later when she startled herself awake. Claire wasn’t sure she’d actually slept. Looking over at her nightstand, she wished her friends had thought to leave her a glass of water. Stumbling, she crawled out of her bed and walked toward her kitchen. It was the moment that she turned on the lights that she started to sober up a bit. A small screech came from the couch. “No lights!”

Claire was frozen in place though. “Jamie?” she asked, not believing it was really him.

“Aye. Please turn off the lights.”

Claire nodded, reaching back to flip the switch. She turned on a small lamp by the wall and crept over to the couch. He was laying there with his eyes closed and a pained expression on his face. Kneeling down on the floor, she fought her instinct to lay her hands on him. “What are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you again. This evening, I mean.”

Jamie didn’t open his eyes as he spoke. “John found me and told me I had to go home. He pushed me in a cab and told the cabbie to take me home. I canna really explain it, but I gave him this address. Even as things are, I didna want to spend the night apart. But when I got here, I didna think I was ready to go join ye in bed. So here I am.”

Fresh tears were rolling down Claire’s cheeks. “I understand that.” She took a deep breath and released it before trying to speak again. “Look, I’m quite drunk still and I’m assuming you are too, but I need to explain myself as best I can. I don’t expect it to magically fix everything, but I have to try. That is, if you’ll allow me.” He nodded slightly, his eyes still closed.

Claire sat down on the floor, laying a hand on the couch, close to his arm. Close, but not touching. “I’m terribly sorry, Jamie. I know I hurt you and I can’t really forgive myself for it. But I just got scared. It felt like it was too soon. Geillis insisted that it surely was a ring and somehow my mind believed her even when logically, I knew it wouldn’t be. I panicked because we’ve never even talked about marriage and we’ve only been together for a matter of months. I should have just waited to see what it was and not screamed like I did. And more than that, I should have trusted that you wouldn’t try to take steps in our relationship without knowing we were both ready for it.”

“Aye, ye should have,” he said in a small voice.

“Let me be clear about something though,” Claire continued. “I was not scared by the idea of marrying you. I didn’t stop you because we want different things. I may not be ready for us to get married right now, but when I think of my wedding someday, it’s you standing up there with me. I love you, James Fraser. I want all that with you, I just don’t want us to jump the gun and miss all the steps before that rather large one.”

His eyes opened slightly, peering at her through his lashes. “I can understand that,” he admitted.

“Good,” she replied, a reluctant smile crossing her face. “I’m sorry that I ever mentioned Frank. But I hope you know that I do not hold his shortcomings on you. You are a better man that he could ever hope to be and I promise you I know that with every fiber of my being.” She reached out to lay her hand on his cheek. “I’m truly sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you this evening. Or all the doubts I’ve made you have. I have been here, scared out of my mind that I ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Because that’s what you are, Jamie.”

She saw a small tear leak from his eye and she brushed it away with the pad of her thumb. “I’m going to go back to bed. But I won’t ask you to join me. You’re welcome there, though, whenever you feel that you’re ready.” She stood up and laid a quick kiss on his forehead. “I love you,” she whispered. Continuing with her initial plan, she walked over to get herself a glass of water. She grabbed a second glass, filled it, and left it on the table for Jamie.

Claire took a long drink of her water and crawled back into bed. Even though she’d said all that she needed to, she still couldn’t fight the tears that flowed down her cheeks. They felt off kilter and they had always been solid. It was her fault. If she’d talked to him instead of leaning into her fears, they could have avoided all the pain of the evening.

Claire was curled in on herself, tears still streaming, when she heard the door to her bedroom open. The other side of the bed shifted as Jamie laid down next to her. She turned over, looking at him in disbelief. There was a hesitancy between them that had never been there before. They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Jamie lifted up his arm, gesturing for her. She released a sob as she moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around him. His arms came down to hold her tightly to him.

Neither of them said anything, simply holding each other. It was enough, though. He’d come home and he’d come to bed. It may not be perfect and it certainly wasn’t all settled, but Claire felt peace as she laid in his arms and fell asleep.

Next chapter

#Outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #my writing #if after all these years you'd like to meet

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ennergetics · 7 years

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FILLED REQUEST: conditional expectations, an unconventional soulmate au with kang daniel (ft. kim jonghyun)

(image credit)

pairing: daniel x reader (feat. kim jonghyun) genre: soulmate! au, fluff, slight angst summary: You don’t believe in soulmates. Meeting Kang Daniel makes you wish doubly hard they’re not real. (as a bit of a math nerd myself, i enjoyed writing this, even if it made my heart hurt. check this out for some interesting calculations on soulmates, and don’t believe the ones i wrote up for the fic!)

‘given a set of rational criteria, the chances of you looking into your soulmate’s eyes are one in ten thousand.’

your mother tells you this when you’re six years old and asking her what the name marked right above your bellybutton means

your schoolmates whisper about your little family, muttering about you’re being raised by a single parent

“that’s what happens when you don’t wait for your soulmate.”

when you’re younger, you’re just as concerned about finding “the one” as everyone else around you

but the single-minded obsession with which the others seem to hunt for the names they have on their wrists and ankles and necks, it soon begins to seem ridiculous to you

soulmarks may be a recent development, but they’re already deeply embedded in human culture

as romantic as it sounds, there’s so much more to life than finding the one whose heart beats in perfect sync with yours

the vastness of the stars and the beauty in the order in the universe capture most of your attention as you grow up, and you watch your friends find their soulmates with only a twinge of jealousy

(one day when you’re seventeen years old, you look up the name imprinted on your skin, but it yields no results)

entering university, you know exactly what you want to do, your heart in the science of numbers

you’re a little quiet, a little shy, but one boy in your sophomore literature class manages to bring out a side of yourself you didn’t expect to see

kim jonghyun is even more withdrawn than you are, his sweet smile hidden by those overly large hoodies he likes to wear

and though you don’t mean to, you fall hard and fast for the terribly inaccurate impersonations he does whenever you don’t do well in your essays, for the way he insists on staying up with you when you’re cramming for basic stat class, for the tender way look in his eyes when he asks you to have dinner with him

you know your name’s not written on the spot where his right scapula begins, and he’s seen the mark on your stomach, kissed it tenderly the first time you make love

you’re better than soulmates, you think, holding tight to what the two of you have

but the world can be cruel

and the pull of expectations and conventions is too strong

jonghyun meets his soulmate at the coffeeshop exactly eleven months after he asks you to be his

he doesn’t tell you until you remind him about your anniversary plans to get matching tattoos

for the first time in your life, you find yourself wanting to make a scene, not caring what your loud sobs in jonghyun’s dorm room must sound like

you make it to your own room, a feeling of numb taking over you as you check your messages and find a long apology letter

the two of you never really break up, but when you see him holding hands with someone else at the library, you finally accept what’s happened

in no time at all, it’s your last year at university, and you decide to be a little more adventurous

your future’s more or less set, anyway, with your applications for masteral programs ready to be sent out

during recruitment week, you sign up for the university’s recreational dance club for the fun of it; you’re not terrible, and without a relationship in the way, you have enough free time

the coach turns out to be a modern dance major with a big, goofy smile

(and a killer body, the rumour goes)

your first session with kang daniel is a delight, and you enjoy the careless, innocent way he flirts with everyone in the room

it doesn’t hurt that he often takes off his shirt near the end of practice sessions, letting all of you ogle him shamelessly

he’s so friendly and so confident that it rubs off on all his students, and dance club becomes the highlight of your week

daniel always asks everyone to have dinner with him, and one day you take him up on it

the two of you go out to a cute barbecue restaurant, and he cooks the meat happily for the both of you

when he asks you about your thesis, he seems truly interested

and when he laughs—it’s way over his head, he says—you’re able to simplify it, scribbling an illustration on the napkin when you’re halfway through your dinner

“you’ve made math sound so exciting,” daniel says with a toothy grin, and you feel that tight feeling in your chest unclench a little

that one dinner turns into a regular meals out, with daniel taking you to his favourite hole-in-the-wall bars and you suggesting the best breakfast places in the neighbourhood

daniel’s always falling in step with you, offering to help you carry your things

somehow, he finds something to talk to you about, whether it’s the latest song he heard on the radio or a cute stray cat he saw that morning

and you find yourself slowly, slowly telling him about yourself

you’re both at your regular Thursday haunt—a Western ice cream parlor three blocks away from your dorm—when the topic of soulmates comes up

“i don’t know,” you say, taking a spoonful of daniel’s peach-mango scoop, “but i think it’s silly that people care so much about their soulmates.”

“oh?” daniel says, and you don’t notice the sudden tension in his posture

“yeah, because you’re tying yourself down to loving one person. people get so caught up in finding their soulmates that it consumes them,” you reply, waving your spoon around, “but what do you think?”

“mmm, i don’t think too much about it,” daniel says, unconsciously rubbing at his outer left thigh

daniel sees the tears pooling at the corners of your eyes and changes the topic

“hey, my thesis performance is coming up soon!” he says, grinning

you’re sitting in the front row, taking up one of daniel’s guest spots

the whole dance club is a couple of rows behind you

and you’ve all seen daniel dance when he teaches you but none of that prepared you for daniel’s performance

he’s utterly breath-taking, from the melancholy expression on his face to the mesmerizing lines of body

and at that moment he catches your eye in the crowd, you feel your soulmate mark pulse right above your belly button

during the intermission, you run to the bathroom to check if it’s changed somehow, if fate is being rewritten

but it still says the same name

after the show, you congratulate him on his piece, pulling him into a hug and ignoring the odd heaviness in the pit of your stomach

and the whole club goes out for celebratory dinner, drinking till an ungodly hour

daniel offers to walk you back to dorm and you take the long way home, and the silence between you two is companionable

you feel an impossible fondness for him, a satisfaction at your life that you haven’t felt in a long time

when he takes your hand, something bursts inside you and you blurt out

“daniel, i love you.”

you’re under a streetlight and he stops walking, your hand still in his

“ah, Y/N,” daniel says softly, “i have to confess something to you.”

the shadows hide his eyes when you look at him, and you just know that he’s found his soulmate elsewhere

the probabilities had been in your favour, but sometimes lightning strikes the same place twice

you’re being irrational but emotion overtakes you

“i knew this would happen,” you say, the hurt clear in your voice as you try to remove your hand from his grasp

but he holds tight even as you start to cry

“i thought maybe something had changed, that maybe you were my soulmate instead, or that maybe soulmarks wouldn’t matter at all.”

and he pulls you into an embrace, stroking your hair as you cry

“i’ve found my soulmate,” he says, his tone serious, “i’ve got you.”

the words don’t make sense to you

and you grip his shirt and let out a hollow laugh, saying, “i’m happy for you. in my heart, we’re soulmates even if your name isn’t fucking kang euigeon.”

daniel chuckles awkwardly

“that’s the best first attempt anyone’s ever done of my name.”

and you’re????? confused????

did you hear that right???

“what did you say was the probability you’d meet your soulmate?” he says, tilting your chin up so you can see his face

“one out of ten thousand if you don’t know their name,” you say, reciting from memory

“and if you do?” daniel says

“should be approximately one in five, averaging out the difficulty of finding one with a common name,” you say slowly

“and the likelihood of you finding me after my parents legally changed my name just before i entered high school?” he says, scrunching up his nose

“why didn’t you tell me?” you say, the tears flowing freely, “did you—did you not want me?”

“you always seemed too busy chasing your dreams to even think about this kind of stuff,” daniel murmurs, “like there was no room for me in the equation”

“of course there’s room for you, you stupid, hot, lovable potato-head,” you say, holding him tight, relief flooding through you

and the two of you kiss for the first time under the dim light on the street

rationally speaking, your circumstances ought to have made it impossible for the two of you to meet

if you hadn’t had your heart broken; if daniel had said something about his name the minute he’d met you; if your feelings hadn’t burst out of you at that moment, then you wouldn’t have found your soulmate

but hey

what are the odds?

#kang daniel imagines #kang daniel scenarios #wanna one scenarios #wanna one imagines #wanna one imagine #w1 #daniel fic #bps: combinatorics #bulletpoint fic #mine #[ i take requests !! ]#[ but probably not for fics precisely in the same verse hehe ]#daniel #mywriting

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fate-ad2021 · 7 years

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17. “Aftermath and Next Steps”

Session 17, Apr 23, 2017

Word count: 7,044 words

In-Game Dates: Sunday, June 13, 2021 and Monday, June 14, 2021

In which everyone catches up, gets some sleep, and begins to make future plans.

I. News of the Aftermath

It is around 10pm by the time everyone convenes at the safe house. The office building team comes leaping in about an hour after the farmhouse team, with Archer and Val supporting Saber between them. Once inside, Caster finally agrees to drop all disguises; he takes on the Hanged Man form and returns Val to his own.

Assassin takes over for Val and helps Archer take Saber back to the “basement” room. There, she checks over their new ally: his right arm is withered up to just above the elbow, and he has suffered severe energy drain from the death seal. Which Archer standing close by, she begins to work on a poultice to speed the regrow of his arm. She doubts that she can entirely fix the damage that the energy drain has done, especially considering how short their time together will likely be. With luck, though, she will be able to help him regrow the arm if he rests for at least a day.

In the living room, Caster turns to Jim. “You should call Reines. She should know about all of this.”

“Hey!” Val exclaims. “Why him, and not me?”

“Because you didn’t even tell her after you got geised.” Caster snaps back.

As the others nod in agreement, Val huffs and crosses his arms. “You’re all ganging up on me. At least Saber loves me.”

“Saber doesn’t—”

Val’s War phone interrupts Jim’s protest. Val pulls out the phone with a flourish and answers it: “Yo, Orsino.”

“Good evening, Valentin,” Orsino greets him. “I trust you all got home safely.”

“Yup, we’re all here! All—” he pauses to count, “—eight of us.”

“Eight?” Orsino marvels, his tone amused. “So you’ve picked up another stray?”

“Yup! I contracted with Saber after Vasilyevich tried to get him to kill us.”

Orsino hums. “Your group certainly has a way with that. Speaking of Vasilyevich, I called to inform you that he tragically did not make it very far from the farmhouse. I’m sure you’re all saddened to hear of his demise.”

“Yeah, we’re really broken up over it.” Val lifts the phone away from his ear and calls to the general house: “Ding dong, the bitch is dead!”

Orsino’s response is lost amidst the cheers from Val’s allies. When things have quieted down, the Executor goes on, “…At any rate, he managed to set off several more death seals as a last ditch effort, but I don’t believe that any of them led to casualties. They did not seem to be particularly well targeted. I was able to get teams together to begin scouring the city; we will work around the clock until Rome is free of this affliction.”

“That’s great,” Val replies, “Thanks for handling that. I’m glad they’re finally taking it seriously.”

“So am I.” Then, away from the phone: “Ah, yes, Rider? Are you making tea? I suppose that’s better than the strong drink I was about to pour… Yes, I’ll join you in a moment.” He comes back and tells Val, “I’ll give you a more full report in the morning, or the afternoon, or whenever we all awaken.”

“Alright,” Val tells him, “Get some sleep, old man.”

Orsino laughs and bids him good night, then hangs up.

Lancer, Siobhan, Caster, Jim, and Assassin remain in the living room, and Val summarizes the conversation for them. Archer remains with Saber in the back room; their respective Masters are unable to contact them, and they seem to want some privacy.

With confirmation of Vasilyevich’s death, Jim decides to ring Reines to give her a detailed update. The phone gives barely half a ring before Reines picks up. “Hello?” She sounds haggard.

“Hi, Reines,” Jim greets her. “So we’re all alive, despite Val’s best efforts. Before you start yelling, I’m gonna hand you over to him. Bye!”

“W-wait! What--?”

With that, Jim puts it on speaker and tosses it to Val. Val catches the phone deftly and holds it away from his face. “Hi, Reines…”

“Bartholemieu Allesandro Baptiste Iadanza DuPont—” Val balks, as much at the revelation of his entire name as at the volume with which it is delivered. “What. Just. Happened.”

“Uh,” Val gulps, “You want the short version or—”

“The short version, if you please.”

“Vasilyevich is dead and Saber is on our side.”

Caster blinks at his Master. “So you are capable of giving a short version!”

“Give me the slightly less short version, if you please,” Reines requests.

“Uh, we almost died? Well, okay, that’s not quite right. Jim’s party is fine.”

“Where did I go wrong?” Reines laments aloud. “How did we get to this point?”

“The actual good news,” Jim breaks in, “is that we’re now allied with every Servant on the board except for the dead one and the mystery eighth one.” He pauses, more for memory collection than for effect, then adds, “Also we have Vasilyevich’s notes.”

That gets Reines’s attention. “You have the notes? And… Vasilyevich is dead.”

“And we have Saber!” Val reminds her.

“Yes, yes, and you have Saber,” Reines acknowledges, and the group can practically hear her waving the statement away. “But more importantly, you have the notes. What format are they in?”

Jim touches the laptop that has not left his side since they got home. “He handed over his laptop. Said the password’s on the bottom, but we haven’t tried it yet. The thing is probably encrypted. We’re afraid of messing it up.”

“Caster?” Reines asks.

“Yes?” the Servant replies.

“Could you please give me a slightly more detailed version of tonight’s events?”

“Well,” the Hanged Man begins, “it started when Val got a phone call from Vasilyevich, who tricked him into accepting a geis that bound him to a meeting. But the geis didn’t say that he couldn’t bring friends, so of course we did.”

“Why do masterminds never think of these things?” Reines’s tone is bemused and bewildered.

Jim says what they are all thinking: “For being the guy responsible for planning all this, he’s been pretty bad at it.”

“So you went to this meeting…” Reines prompts.

The rest of the story spills out in chunks: the discovery of the farmhouse base, the phone call to Orsino, meeting with Rider, clearing the office building and battling Saber, escaping that death seal, the new contract, and finally Jim tricking Vasilyevich into the self-geis. Reines listens patiently, stopping them when they try to get into detail, with the explanation that “You can tell me more when you get back safely.”

When they are finished communicating the gist of it, Reines is quiet for a moment, considering. Then she asks, “Are Lancer and her Master there?”

“We are,” Siobhan answers.

“Could I ask you to step away for a few moments? I’d like to speak with my champions in private.”

“Certainly.”

“The Servants, as well,” Reines adds as Siobhan and Lancer retreat to one of the rooms.

“Pardon?” Caster and Assassin sound equally affronted.

“Your Masters can choose to tell you what they want,” Reines replies sharply, “but there is a matter about which I wish to speak to them alone.”

Jim and Val both shrug at their Servants and make shooing motions. The Servants exchange a frown and shuffle back the hall together.

(Once there, they dampen their mental connections to their Masters and conduct a brief pantomimed conversation: Assassin will go spy on Archer and Saber while Caster sneaks back to the living room to spy on the Masters’ conversation. They both go incorporeal and head off to their missions.)

Once the two Masters have confirmed that they are apparently alone in the room, Reines goes on. “Now that you have the notes, what do you plan to do?”

Val and Jim study different points on the walls in thought. After a long pause, Val answers, “We need to make sure this thing isn’t trapped. We haven’t exactly examined it yet, but there’s a chance that Vasilyevich built triggers and traps into it in case it ever got stolen.”

Jim nods. “For all we know, we make one wrong move…”

“And boom,” Reines finished with a sigh. “Well, if none of you are confident enough in your abilities to decrypt it, our best shot is for you to just bring it back here. That’s why I wanted your Servants to leave – they’re not going to be happy about being pulled out of the War to—”

“Why don’t you just send Vol?” Jim interrupts her.

“I… I didn’t think of that,” Reines admits. “I’m not sure she can do her… magic thing again so soon after going to retrieve McFarrell.” Another pause, then, “She just confirmed that she couldn’t. But… that gives me an idea. Let me make some calls and I’ll send her down with someone as soon as I can.”

“Ok.”

“Now,” she goes on, “tell me what he wanted. What was he doing with this Grail?”

Val gives the short answer: “Killing people.”

“I know that, with the seals, but what about the Grail itself?”

“No, that really was what he was doing,” Jim insists. “Before he gave us the notes, he told us that with the way he built this one, if it were just filled normally with the Servants’ energy, then it would blow up and destroy the Vatican. Adding in the power of the death seals and all the civilian casualties, it was going to melt down and destroy all of Rome.”

“That’s… That’s bad.”

“Yeah, we got that. Do you have any idea how to deactivate it?”

“I’ve never dealt with this kind of ritual before. Did he say what would happen if it’s partially filled with death magic and partially with Servant energy? How many instances of casualties have there been?”

“Three from death seals, we think,” Val answers, “plus one Servant.”

“We don’t know what the thresholds are, though,” Jim admits, “it could be as early as seven, or it could be not until thirteen. We won’t even have a chance of knowing until we can get a look at those notes. Oh, and Orsino confirmed that it’s the Cauldron of Rebirth. I don’t remember if we told you that. It’s in the Vatican; maybe he can work on getting it defused when he’s done taking down the rest of the seals.”

“So we can hope. I’ll send someone down as soon as possible to help with the notes. Hang tight until then.”

Val nods. “You got it. We all could use the rest.”

They can hear typing on her end, then Reines goes on, “How are you going to end all this? You said you’re allied with the remaining Servants; do you intend to keep it that way? Or will you go back to fighting?”

“We’re staying together,” Val replies firmly, looking to Jim for confirmation that comes with a nod. “We need to fix the eighth Servant problem. Whether we can reason with them, or whether we have to fight them, we can do that best as a group.”

“Valentin…” Reines says slowly, “Are we talking about the same being? The very same one who wiped out a Servant’s boundary field and erased all traces of magic from an area? Does this sound like someone who can be reasoned with?”

“Yes,” Val says, as Jim scoffs, “No.”

Reines sighs. “If that is the route you try, I wish you luck in it. But don’t die to this thing, alright?”

“Sure,” they agree.

“Finally,” Reines adds, “have you thought about what happens after?”

“What do you mean?” Jim asks.

“After the eighth Servant is stopped, and you’ve defused the bomb, what happens? What are you going to do with your Servants?”

“Uh?” Val prompts, exchanging a confused look with Jim. “What usually happens to them at the end of a War?”

“Well, usually when they die, their energy gets poured into the Grail and their consciousness just fades away. But usually hardly applies in this situation. According to everything we know, these spirits are just copies of the people they once were. They’ve been taken from the Throne of Heroes, copied, and given bodies. But as we saw with the American Wars, and even some of the Fuyuki Wars, Servants aren’t always contented with that cycle. That could be a point of contention.”

Jim looks pointedly at Val, who grimaces. They are both thinking the same thing: Caster is never going along with this plan.

“Well,” Jim says slowly, “It’s something to think about. The Servants are probably thinking about it too.”

With that covered, the two of them bid Reines good night and hang up. Val calls out to the Servants to show themselves (“Caster, I know you were listening!”), but nothing happens. The Masters exchange a shrug and head off to find their Servants.

II. Fools of the Round Table

By the time Assassin creeps into the room, invisible and undetectable, Archer has helped Saber remove his armor and settle into the bed. The weakened knight is propped up on pillows, much as Stella had been in the wake of her surgery. Archer is in a chair beside the bed. The two are silent, both of them avoiding the other’s gaze.

Assassin is just starting to wonder if she came back here for nothing when they both speak at once.

“Why did you stay?” Archer asks, as Saber asks, “Why did you leave?”

Startled by each other’s questions, they stare at one another for a moment before chuckling nervously.

Archer answers first. “I… I was so unhappy. Arthur was so…” he huffs, “Stubborn. And difficult. And distant, by God, he was distant. That’s no way to rule a kingdom. You could never tell if he didn’t care, or if he didn’t feel, or if he just didn’t know how to act. I wanted to believe that he cared about the common people, but over time, it became so hard to hold on to that. If he really did care, he was such rubbish at showing it. And he certainly didn’t think like the people did.”

Saber shakes his head. “Where you saw apathy, I saw strength. I saw resolve not to let his emotions make decisions for him. When you’re responsible for so many people, when they’re all looking up to you, I think you must become somewhat detached. He never acted as though he was above the rest of us…”

“Really? Because after a while, that’s all it seemed to be.”

“Even so, we stood by him through so much. After Lancelot left, I thought…” Saber pauses, and Assassin is surprised to see him blink away tears.

Archer must be surprised as well, because his expression softens. “You thought I would stay, to keep everything together.”

Saber nods.

“Well, you know me: the Minstrel Knight, I do nothing but feel. Arthur was just too hard to relate to. Eventually, I came to realize that I didn’t belong, so I left.”

Saber answers with a wry smile. Archer watches him for a moment longer before murmuring, “But you stayed. All the way until…”

“Until Mordred rebelled. The King left me to defend his throne. There was a time when that would have been Lancelot, but… by then, it was me. When I faced Mordred’s charge, I only wished…”

Archer places a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “When I learned, I wished that I’d been there.”

Saber nods. “What’s done is done, though.” He reaches up with his good hand to squeeze Archer’s. “Can we agree to work together once more?”

Archer smiles at him. “I would like that.”

“Although,” Saber laughs, “I don’t know how that will work out. It seems like we have everyone here.”

Assassin watches Archer’s expression fall. “Although that seems to be the case, there is… How much did your old Master tell you about the structure of the War?”

Saber shakes his head, his expression growing troubled to match the other knight’s. “I’m afraid I’ve been fairly well out of the loop. What did I miss, that the rest of you know?”

“There is an eighth Servant,” Archer admits, “and a general fear that it might be the King.”

Saber’s face becomes a portrait of dismay. Archer backpedals a little, “I remain unconvinced, but the Lady Assassin has mentioned it and it sounds like they have strong evidence that this person is at least another of the Round Table Knights. But… I wanted to warn you. There is the chance.”

Saber closes his eyes and breathes deep and slow. “Thank you for the warning. Truly, I appreciate it. That’s a terrible revelation for anyone other than a friend to deliver.”

After a moment of silence between them, Archer asks quietly, “Do you think you could fight him?”

It takes Saber another long moment to answer.

“Truly, I do not know.”

Assassin creeps back out of the room as they return to silence. This, she thinks, is definitely a problem that we should discuss.

And as she creeps back into the living room, she realizes that the knights are not the only ones whose loyalty is in question.

III. Nighttime Conversation

When Jim finally finds Caster, it is after he has made three laps around the house to finally find the Servant in the kitchen where Jim started. Caster looks up from his tea at Jim’s exasperated sigh, a perfectly innocent expression on his face.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah. Can you soundproof my room so I can get some sleep? Having this many people around is going to drive me insane.”

“Certainly,” Caster nods. “I can do that for all the rooms, actually. Except perhaps Valentin’s… Maybe that would be better suited for a reverse soundproofing. Who cares about keeping the sound out of his room? Let’s just keep all of his noise in.”

“Sounds good to me!”

Caster sets to work on that, and Jim retreats to his claimed room to sleep as soon as the enchantment is in place there. Once all the rooms have been appropriately enchanted, Caster once again changes the “basement” room, this time transforming it into a barracks with multiple beds. Satisfied with that – and with the cleverness of placing a single non-material upper bunk bed in the mix – he retreats to his workshop to prepare his next weapon.

Val, for his part, is on his way to see Saber. He passes Archer on the way back the hall, and knocks on the door that has been left partially open.

“Come in.” When Val enters, Saber pulls himself up from his slouch in the pillows. “Ah, hello, Master.”

“Hey,” Val greets him, “can we chat?”

“For a bit, although I might kick you out so I can sleep. Assassin’s orders.”

Val laughs and takes the seat that Archer had occupied. “So, I don’t actually know that much about you, and I would like to fix that.”

Saber sighs and shrugs. “Very well. What would you like to know?”

Val mirrors his new Servant’s shrug. “I don’t know – anything, really. I know what some of the legends say, but I don’t know you as a person. Besides, we didn’t exactly get off to the best start.”

Saber gives him a weary smile. “I suppose we did not. Very well. You know I was a Knight of the Round Table. I served the king and Camelot faithfully until I was killed by Mordred. There really isn’t much else to say.”

“Well, Mordred’s dead, so we’re fine on that front.”

“So you said, yes,” Saber acknowledges. “Did you face his Noble Phantasm?”

Val nods. “Yeah, it was kind of like yours. But… scarier. No offense.”

Saber laughs, coughs, shakes his head. “None meant, none taken. Unfortunately, that was probably the only chance you will have to see Galatine in action.”

“Huh?”

Saber lifts his withered limb, wrapped in Assassin’s bandages. “Servants cannot break one another’s Noble Phantasms, but we can sacrifice our own. Remember Grigori’s final order to me? I had to sacrifice Galatine to carry it out. My arm will recover, given time and sufficient magic, but Galatine is gone for good, I’m afraid.”

“I wonder if Caster can make you a replacement,” Val muses out loud. Feeling a sense of alarm from Caster, he dampens their connection.

“What do you mean?” Saber asks.

“Well, that’s kind of his thing,” Val explains, “He makes Noble Phantasm quality objects. I don’t know if they’re true Noble Phantasms or not, but they work just as well.”

“So I recall,” Saber acknowledges, absently touching his shoulder where the hunting dogs had mauled him. “That is a truly rare gift. I can think of only a few sorcerers in history who are powerful enough to casually generate Noble Phantasms.”

Val blinks, seeing the wheels begin to turn in Saber’s head. “Uh, well… Don’t keep yourself awake thinking about it. You need some rest. Assassin’s orders.”

“Right, of course,” Saber agrees, although he is clearly still considering. “Perhaps I will speak to Caster in the morning about this possibility. Thank you for letting me know. Was there anything else that you wanted to speak with me about? As you said yourself, I do need to rest.”

Val hesitates, then admits, “I am a little bit worried about your loyalty. I know you were loyal to Vasilyevich because you had to be, and I’m not worried about your doing something weird like turning on us to complete his mission or something. But what if something else happens? Something that could test your new loyalty to us. Is there anything you would turn on us for?”

Gawain falls silent and stares into space for a while. Then he responds, “My loyalty will remain with you as long as your mission remains to destroy the Grail. The only thing that could test that would be the return of my king, but that seems incredibly unlikely.”

“Well…” Gawain raises an eyebrow at Val until he goes on, “That’s, uh, actually something that the rest of us have been worried about as well.”

Saber says nothing, but he seems surprised, and Val remembers that he was kept in a bubble with only Vasilyevich for contact.

“Look, there’s too much to tell you tonight, but suffice it to say that it’s not as unlikely as you might think for King Arthur to show up and wreck everything. Or, I mean, maybe some variant or something, I don’t know. The point is, if he does show up… Would you follow him again?”

Saber breathes deeply and slowly before giving his reply. “If he is my king as he was in life, then I will not lie: we may have a problem. But I don’t…” He sighs. “This Grail is not Holy, as it is called. I do not know what chance there is that the king would manifest, but I suspect that with this thing being corrupted as it is, there is very little chance that the person who would manifest would be my king as I knew him. We can cross that bridge when we arrive there. As it stands for now, I will remain loyal to you and yours. I cannot promise how good I’ll be—” he jokingly waves the arm again, “—but I will try. All I ask is a second chance.”

Val beams at him. “Good. We’re definitely good at those.” He stands to leave, then sits down again, remembering: “Oh, did you have any questions for us?”

Saber shrugs. “I was curious about your other allies. It sounds as though you are allied with Rider and Lancer as well?”

“Yeah,” Val answers, “we don’t know who Rider is, but we do know Lancer’s identity, and we’re friends with both of their Masters. Orsino – that’s Rider’s Master – is a good guy, and Siobhan – Lancer’s Master – is dating Jim. Er, not that that’s why we have an alliance. I knew her first, but…”

Saber holds up his good hand. “I’m sure I’ll pick up the full story over the next few days. If you don’t mind, I would like to rest.”

“Sure, sure,” Val nods as he heads toward the door. “I might keep poking you with questions…”

“And I might shut you off so I can sleep.”

Val laughs and retreats to his room.

IV. Morning Chatter

Jim awakens the following morning at around 9 o’clock and shuffles out to get breakfast in the peace and quiet of the morning. He is surprised to find Assassin already up with coffee brewing. Siobhan and Lancer emerge a few moments later, and together the four of them make breakfast from what they can scrounge in the kitchen. It is quiet and polite, with only a few necessary words spoken between them.

When Caster emerges to join them near 10 o’clock, he feels a querying sensation from Saber. Clearly the newest addition is figuring out how to use their Master as a relay to the other Servant, even as Val remains asleep.

Caster accepts the communication. “Yes?”

“Ah, there you are. I was wondering if we could talk.”

“Certainly,” Caster replies, as Archer emerges from the barracks. “Should I send Archer to help you out?”

“If you don’t mind it.”

Caster is a little confused, but shrugs and asks Archer for the favor. Archer gladly obliges, and a few moments later brings Saber limping into the living room. At the sight of nearly all of their allies in one place, though, the knight hesitates.

“This is… quite a few more people than I expected.”

“These Masters have a habit of collecting strays,” Caster explains dryly.

“I meant, there are more people here than I expected to see right now,” Saber explains, “I had hoped to speak with you in private, Emrys.”

Caster finds himself grateful not for the first time in this War for his skill at keeping a straight face. He is grateful too for Assassin’s discretion; she gives no indication of recognizing his old name.

“We can speak,” Caster replies, projecting polite confusion, “but I’m afraid I don’t recognize… whatever it is that you called me.”

Saber’s expression moves from being calmly assured of himself to being calmly mortified. He opens his mouth, closes it again, exchanges a confused glance with Archer, and finally settles on, “Ah, I apologize. It’s a name that we called powerful sorcerers in my time. You are the Servant Caster, are you not?”

Caster shrugs. “Usually. What can I do for you?”

Saber draws in a breath and collects himself before making his request. “Our Master tells me that you’re capable of building Noble Phantasm weapons. I wondered if I could speak with you about acquiring one.”

Caster’s response is a mildly irritated, “Ah.” Saber is silent while Caster mulls this over. Finally, the magus replies, “It is true that I make weapons and it is true that I can imbue them with… powerful abilities. But… maintaining more than one is a strain on my energy and I would rather prioritize making my own armaments. I could make you an ordinary blade, but nothing like Excalibur Galatine that you had before.”

Assassin chooses then to chime in, “I might be of assistance, actually.” Saber turns to her in surprise. She explains, “I was able to enchant gloves for my Master that allow him to… well, to punch Servants. Since some of us are…” She casts a baleful glare at Jim, mulling over the best way to put it, “Reckless, and fragile, and required more martial assistance.”

Saber chuckles. “Fragile? Any of you? Really?”

Assassin turns her glare to him for his humor, but he seems to be sincere. “Anyway, if we can get you a sword, I may be able to enchant it to strike faster and truer. As Caster said, it wouldn’t be anything like Galatine, but we could equip you with a weapon.”

Saber nods and gives her a beaming smile. “I’ll think on your offer. First priority should be fixing this—” he waves his arm like a chicken wing, “—but then we can discuss weaponry. I’ll leave you all to breakfast so I can rest.”

(As the two Knights turn back the hall, Jim can hear Archer’s words through their connection: “It wasn’t a bad guess! But even if he is who you think he is, he’ll never tell. You remember how that man was in life.”)

In the living room, Caster turns back to the group to see Lancer studying him very carefully, an oddly knowing smile on her face. Siobhan has a similar expression, while Assassin and Jim are very studiously not looking at him.

“What?!” he demands. “Why is everyone giving me that look?”

Lancer bursts out laughing. “I don’t know what just happened, and I don’t think I ever will, and I’m okay with that! At least you’re on our side!”

As they finish breakfast and begin to clean up, Siobhan bumps elbows with Jim. “Hey,” she murmurs, “can we talk?”

“Um?”

“Not like – oh, god, that sounded bad. I didn’t mean it like – I just wanna chat, is all. Join me on the porch?”

He dutifully follows her out, catching Assassin’s eye on the way and shrugging.

Morning traffic has died down, leaving them with the peace and quiet of a warm June Monday. Siobhan grabs one of the porch seats while Jim leans against the railing.

“I assume you want me to turn off the connection to Assassin?”

“Would you mind?”

Jim sighs, and does so. “What’s this about?”

Siobhan takes a moment to collect herself, then tells him, “I need a copy of the notes.”

Birds chirp in the silence between them. “Why?”

“I had one job…”

“Same as ours?”

“You got it.”

“For the Restoration?”

“That’s it.” While Jim is thinking about it, she goes on, “Look, I know how computers work: I’m pretty I could figure out how to copy them and then I’d just have them to take back with me. It’s not like I’m gonna abandon you. Lancer and I talked it over last night; this thing is bad and you’re gonna need all the help you can get. I just wanna make sure that when this is all over, I don’t go back to my people empty-handed.”

“I hear you,” Jim says slowly, “and I get it, but I’m not sure that’s the best idea. What if something goes wrong trying to decrypt it? Reines has someone on the way who can help. I don’t know how the Restoration is with stuff like this, but if there’s a hidden trigger in there that sets off something bad, I’d hate to see you take that back with you.”

Siobhan considers this and nods. “That’s fair. I’d hate to see that too. I can wait for Reines’ person; like I said, I’m not in a hurry to leave. And it would be helpful to have the notes already decrypted when I bring them home.”

(As she speaks, Jim opens his connection to Assassin back up and relays all of this, an undercurrent of panic in his thoughts. Assassin’s response comes swiftly and firmly: this decision belongs to all of them; they were all involved in getting the plans, in some way or another, so they should all discuss the future together. She does wonder, though, what Siobhan thinks her people plan to do with the notes.)

Jim frowns in thought, then offers, “Reines tells us that she wants the plans so she can figure out how to head this off, probably to end the possibility of future Wars. Plus, she had family that died in previous Wars and I think she just wants to understand it.” He pauses, then asks, “What does the Restoration want?”

Siobhan bites her lips and stares off into the distance. “Honestly, I’m not sure. It was one thing when we thought it was a wish. With something like this, we could wish for… for anything. For freedom, for justice, for… power.” She shakes her head hard enough to ruffle her hair. “But it’s not that, is it? It’s not a magic wish-machine. It’s a bomb. The Restoration is good people, but… Good is a thing that you do, y’know? I dunno if there’s any good that could come out of this. On the one hand, I want to do my job, get the notes, go home. But on the other hand… I dunno if I could trust anyone with this, knowing now what it does.”

Jim nods. “I’m starting to think the same thing.”

“Even about Reines?”

“Even about Reines,” he confirms, “but in the end, we have a stake in what happens here. I think we should talk to the others about it. We can all decide together.”

Siobhan agrees. They re-enter the house to find Val curled up on the couch drinking coffee and Assassin perched on the back of chair, staring fixedly at Siobhan like a cat. Siobhan glances at Jim, who gives her a confused shrug. “Did you let her in on that?”

“Um?”

“I’ll admit, I let Lancer in.”

Jim chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Ok, you got me. But not until after I knew what you wanted to talk about.”

Siobhan laughs as well and pats his arm. “Don’t worry – if I’d just wanted privacy to snog you, I wouldn’t have let Lancer see that.”

“…Uh.” Jim blinks at her like his brain just shorted out.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to see that!” Lancer calls from the kitchen.

“Nobody wants to see that,” Archer adds, emerging from the hallway. “By the way, does anyone have a phone I can borrow?”

“How many do you need?” Val asks.

Archer stares at him. “One? I… I need one phone.” Everyone else just shrugs when he looks around for support against the ridiculous question. “I just wanted to call Stella.”

Val tosses him a phone. “Go for it, man.”

Archer steps into a corner and dials, bringing the phone up to his ear. Although Jim tries to listen in, he finds that Archer has cut him off. Archer’s half of the conversation is audible, though, and everyone shamelessly listens in:

“Stella? It’s—yes. … Yes, we’re all fine. I—yes. … Yes. … What? Oh, now you’re screwing with me. … Alright. Are you good? … Good. … I’m okay. Saber’s here now. … Yes, he’s gone. … No, there are no more of them. Orsino has seen to that. But the Grail is—yes, it is as you thought. So, if you can, you need to get out of Rome.”

Assassin and Jim exchange a surprised glance, then realize at the same time: if the Grail melts down, Stella would be at ground zero.

Archer goes on, “I know. Could you go back to…? … Yes, I’m sure Orsino could help you arrange that. … Yes. … Yes, please. … Thank you. It was an honor to meet you. If I don’t see you again, be safe.”

He hangs up and hands the phone back to Val.

“Does she need transport somewhere?” Val asks.

“Dude, she can go back home or wherever,” Jim tells him. “We don’t have to send her to Reines like another stray orphan.”

“Excuse you! It’s a wonderful orphanage, and besides, the Tower isn’t a terrible place to be locked up!”

In the background, Assassin and Caster exchange horrified looks.

V. Future Moves

Once everyone is settled back in the living room, the question comes up: do they give up the plans?

“No.”

Everyone looks at Val, surprised by how decisive his answer is.

“Not even to your employer?” Siobhan asks.

“I know they’re worth a lot, but—”

“You’re thinking about money?!” Jim demands.

“What? No! I’m rich; I don’t have to worry about money!” Val shakes his head and ignores Jim’s glower. “Look, what I meant was, Reines obviously places a lot of value on these notes. But if I have a say in it, I don’t want to see this secret getting out.”

“What do you propose we do, then?” Assassin asks. “Destroy them outright?”

Siobhan looks uncomfortable until Val shakes his head. “We still don’t know how to defuse the Grail. I think we should decrypt them and see if there’s anything in there about it. Then we should destroy them, so nobody else can do this, ever again.”

“I agree,” Siobhan says, and Jim nods as well.

Lancer pipes up, “We still have a huge problem if we want to destroy this thing. The Grail is in the Vatican. The Grail is a spiritual object. Servants cannot enter the Vatican, and to my understanding, Servants are the only beings who can touch the Grail. How do we get to it to destroy it?”

“Rider can go into the Vatican,” Val points out.

“That’s all well and good,” Lancer replies, “but we don’t know Rider, either who he is or where his loyalties lie in the long run.”

“We know he’s a saint,” Jim reminds her, “and that he’s a native of Rome. That suggests that he would be the sort of person who would at least not like to see the Vatican get blown up.”

Val nods in agreement. “That’s right. Maybe we could give him instructions to break it, or maybe he could transport it to somewhere we can reach it. Do you think that’s possible? Do we know if it’s anchored somewhere? Or can it be moved?”

The group agrees that they do not know and would have to ask Orsino. In the midst of this, though, Jim remembers: “We shouldn’t take it out with the eighth Servant running around. They could get access to it, and that would be terrible.” Everyone murmurs in agreement. “So we want to remove the eighth Servant from the board before dealing with the bomb.”

Lancer nudges Assassin’s elbow. “Talk later?” she murmurs when the priestess leans in.

Assassin nods. Seeing everyone else’s suspicious expressions, she admits, “At some point, our language shifted from disarming the Grail to destroying it. I’m not keen on destroying the artifact. It’s a sacred relic, to both of us. If we can defuse it while leaving the artifact intact, I would be happier with that plan.”

Everyone else seems to accept this, but Jim narrows his eyes at his Servant. “Hey… Do you mean it? Or are you still thinking that Vasilyevich had the right idea, with destroying the Vatican?”

“I mean it,” she insists, only lying a little. “I just want to save the Cauldron.”

“And if you had a choice between saving the Cauldron and blowing up the Vatican?”

Assassin shrugs. “Ask me later.”

The sound of Val’s War phone chirps from his pocket. He grains when he sees the screen. “Oh! Orsino is calling back!” He answers it and puts in on speaker in the middle of the table. “Good morning!”

“Good morning, Valentin,” Orsino greets him, “and hopefully everyone else. How are you all doing?”

“Alive and breathing!” Val chirps. “What about you, old man? Still alive?”

“Clearly,” Assassin mutters, “He is a zombie.”

Orsino dryly agrees, “Yes, I regret to inform you that I passed away last night and am phoning you from the afterlife. Rider is presently on a Master-less rampage through the city, and I’m calling to urge you to stop him.”

When the laughter at his spectacular delivery has died down, Val asks, “Okay, but now you’ve got me wondering: if you die, does your backseat driver just take over? Or what?”

Orsino chuckles. “I honestly don’t know, and I honestly don’t want to find out for a long while. I’m sure if it happens, he’ll let you know.” The group laughs again, and Orsino goes on, “Now, for the actual reason I’m calling: I have several teams throughout the city working to find and defuse the remaining death seals. There are a surprising number of them—”

“Is it that surprising, though?” Jim asks. “This was Vasilyevich’s entire thing.”

“That’s a fair point,” Orsino acknowledges, “but I still find myself surprised at the number we’ve found intact. I was calling to ask if your more magically inclined Servants would be interested in helping my teams.”

“Saber, could you help defuse death seals?” Val asks, both aloud and through his connection.

There is a brief pause, and Saber responds, “I’m uncertain, but I remind you that I am still heavily injured. I will go if you send me, but to send me may be unwise.”

“I thought that Saber might be able to help,” Val tells Orsino, “since it’s his Master, but he lost his sword and his arm. Even if he was certain that he could help, I’m not certain I would want him to try in this condition.”

“That’s fair,” Orsino agrees. “What about anyone else?”

The group looks around and shrugs. Val answers for the, “Let us get ready for the day and collect ourselves a little bit more, and we’ll get back to you. In the meantime, be careful out there!”

“Yes,” Orsino replies dryly, “If we run into the eighth Servant and have time to inform you before our imminent demise, we’ll let you know.” No one laughs at that one. “But if you are able to send aid, we’ll be able to get through these much faster. I would appreciate any help I could get here.”

“Caster may be able to help you find them,” Val says vaguely, “but I’ll let you know. And if we find anything helpful when decrypting Vasilyevich’s notes, I’ll pass it on to you as well.”

“But seriously,” Jim adds, “don’t die. Rider is the only one who can get into the Vatican and touch the Grail, so if Rider dies then we’re really stuck.”

“What do you mean, touch the—Oh.” Orsino’s tone shifts from panic to understanding. “You mean to disarm or destroy it. Yes, I understand. We’ll do our best to stay safe. If anything happens… Well, we’ll let you know.”

They exchange closing pleasantries and hang up. Silence reigns again as they begin to contemplate their next move…

#session log post

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