a cut of the sting (1973) wherein robert redford’s character’s completely normal name is said a completely normal number of times.

skip to the last 30 seconds for a surprise :)

youtube

The Moon Spirit - two

Dorian x reader, Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

Description: When you’re taught to be a queen from such a young age, nothing could go wrong. But when the king starts to fear your growing power you find yourself thrust into a world of faeries, evil magic and powerful men, learning to stand on your own can be harder than it seems.

warnings: blood, graphic descriptions of violence, objectification, gross old men, Dorian is a ball of love and niceness however, angst, fluff, possibly smut in later chapters

word count: 2.9k 

a/n: oof the plans i have for this series omg!! i hope you like this pls comment and tell me what u think and also feel free to give any ideas/ theories i love getting that sm!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

——————————————————————————-

Finding a place to get a drink was easier said than done.

You had ridden along the cold, barren road for hours – your only company being the birds singing above you, the horse moving below you and the small bundle of content wrapped in your arms who had fallen asleep in your arms in seconds, occasionally yawning widely. And through those hours you had met no one and seen no place to stop.

You eventually had to stop, exhaustion slowing you down. You moved off course and tied your horse to a tree next to a small stream, running a comforting hand through its mane as it drank slowly. You slowly stripped off as well, taking your time as you removed the blood-soaked layers from your skin. Once you were bare, shivering in the cool morning air, you stepped slowly into the stream – swearing enough to make a sailor blush.

However, you relented, running your hands over your skin, wiping away the guards’ blood with a heavy heart as the water turned pink. Your whole body ached, yet you were numb. Men were dead because of you, and - if he hadn’t already – Dorian would hear of your disappearance soon. And then the king would pick him a new bride, and you would be forgotten.

Just as intended.

Amaris was mewling behind you, hungry and cold, wondering why you had left. Or maybe that was just you, maybe you were projecting. You climbed out of the water, pulling your undergarments back on as you found a sunny patch to sit in, allowing the newly risen sun to cleanse away the remnants of the night, drying your skin slowly.

After half an hour of silent tears you picked yourself back up, pulling on your stiff clothes and climbing onto your horse as you set off again. You couldn’t just lie down and die, no matter how much you wanted to, you had to look after your last gift from Dorian, and you had look after yourself.

--

You ended up riding for hours more before you wandered into a small town. Dismounting, you led your horse through the town as you searched for a place to get food and maybe clean clothes, glaring down your nose at anyone who stared to long. Much like Dorian used to.

No. You tried to expel the thought of him from your head, not needing to be swept up in the thought of his forget-me-not eyes, nor did you need to remember that you may never get to look into them again.

What you needed was the tavern you could see at the end of the street.

You pushed through the street, ignoring the townspeople as you moved to the stables beside the tavern, giving your horse rest, food, and water. You hid Amaris in your coat as you moved into the tavern – back straight and head high as you walked.

The bar quietened down when you moved in, a small sprout woman pausing handing out drinks as she stared at you over a high skew nose. The bar smelt of sour whisky and piss, the surfaces barely visible beneath the dirt that covered every surface – the only source of light coming from tall candles that had been stuffed into wine bottles. The curtains over the windows were drawn tight, not allowing any other light in and the people in the bar all looked remarkably similar, tired. The woman behind the bar was petite, with a face alike a weasel and when she spoke you discovered her voice was just as shrill as you expected.

“And who do you think you are?” she moved in front of the bar, walking towards you as you levelled your gaze.

“I’m no one.” You replied, the answer vague enough that she hopefully wouldn’t try again.

“Then what do you want?” she was exasperated as she spoke, and you allowed yourself a moment of reprise as you glanced down at your clothes.

“A drink would be nice,” your voice was curt, tired. The small lady rolled her eyes, moving away as you approached the bar, allowing her to pour you a glass of cheap, hard liquor.

She slid it towards you, and you knocked it back quickly. “Do you also have fresh clothes and maybe some food for me and my cat?”

As she left with an eye roll, a man approached you, his hairline receding and breath fowl as he slung an arm around your shoulder, leaning far too close for your comfort as you trained your eyes forward.

“I can offer you a job,” he nodded his head and you looked over to see his eyes trained on the prostitutes in the corner, “I’ll even offer a free trial. To get you started.”

You felt panic rise like bile in your throat, your entire body tensing as you shoved this man’s arm of your shoulder. You calmed your face – unwilling to let any emotion show as you faced him.

“You couldn’t afford me,” you snarled, pushing down the heat growing in you as the curious eyes of the towns’ folk were once again turned on you.

“You bitch!” the man began shouting but was cut off by the shrill woman’s return. She unceremoniously dumped a pile of clothes in your lap, along with a small loaf and some fish, her gaze expectant.

You loosened the bracelet around your wrist, dropping it into her hand as she stared at the large jewels adorning it.

“That should cover it.” you muttered as you stood, keeping your gaze angry and forward as you shouldered past the burly man. You bundled the clothing and food in one hand, the other still holding Amaris tight to your chest as you left the dirty tavern.

You found your horse again, offloading the goods you had received into the worn satchels on its side – leading it out of the barn slowly, desperate to get out of this town.

--

Dorian was a mess.

He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, could barely speak anymore. It was enough to lose you, but to then realise that his own father had driven you away. His own father had made you feel so unsafe in your own home that you couldn’t even run to him, his father had made you feel so completely isolated that your only choice was to flee.

Chaol was trying to coax him back into civilised life, his brother mourning the loss of his friend, yet itching to find you. And level-headed as always, Chaol knew that wouldn’t happen with Dorian spending his days drinking or in bed – often both.

But Dorian didn’t know how to cope, he didn’t know how to plaster on a smile and pretend everything was okay. That was your specialty.

Almost a month had passed, and you certainly were nowhere to be seen. You weren’t coming home anytime soon and he was going to have to learn how to live without you eventually.

Every morning he woke up, a part of him hoped it was a bad dream, that you would be asleep in his arms, or giggling and pressing dizzying kisses into his jaw. He hoped one day he would just wake up and you would wrap your arms tight around his shoulders, tell him it was just a nightmare and stroke his hair until he fell back asleep.

But he knew that couldn’t happen, that life wasn’t kind enough to return his bride to him and so instead he chose to numb his thoughts. He ignored the flirty eyes of other woman, unable to look at them in their expensive dresses and jewels without his mind returning to you.

Everyday that passed without you hurt that much more, so when he sat on his throne as Chaol approached him with a beautiful but deadly woman, he decided since he couldn’t have his perfect woman, he must find her opposite. He couldn’t be who he was before – so he must become someone new.

--

You weren’t faring much better. The day you had left the bar, you had ridden all the way to the coast of Terrasan and had climbed onto the first boat to Doranelle. By the time you arrived in the city you had just about sold anything of value on your person and all you had left to sell was the poor horse you had taken away.

By the time it was just you and Amaris, you had acquired a small flat in the city – the walls were bare and there was only simple furniture in it, the mattress on the floor next to large windows, and worn cushions on a makeshift sofa next to a wooden table.

Every night Amaris crawled into bed next to you, licking away salty tears from your face as you pulled the thin, scratchy sheet closer over you – hoping to replicate even a shred of Dorian’s warmth, or the feeling of his arms wrapped secure around your waist. Most nights you didn’t sleep, the bags growing under your eyes as your heart slowly numbed. Amaris would bury himself in the warmth of your chest as your eyes blurred, watching the city move outside of your flat – the noise subdued and calming.

On the third day in the new city you set out to find work, desperate to find something that could numb the thoughts in your mind and make the days easier. Plus you were sick of grabbing the easiest food you could find. You found yourself walking to a library, deciding it would be the perfect mixture of solitude and work for you. And it helped that you had spent most your life reading, many nights curled under Dorians arms as you read your separate books – occasionally reciting a line to the other.

The old man at the front of the library was kind, his face wrinkled from easy smiles, and you could understand why his long, long life seemed so pleasing. The bookshelves were tall, dizzyingly tall, and filled with countless books that you wished you could search through for hours. There were also tall, stained windows lining the walls, letting in the beautiful morning light and showing how the dust danced around the room.

“So what brings you here?” he asked, moving around the desk he sat at and motioning for you to take a seat on the small, cushioned seats next to him.

You sat down gently, back straight but keeping your eyes trained on your neatly folded hands. “I need work, sir. I have very good qualifications and have been educated by the best.”

He laughed slightly at that, “That much is clear, my child. But I asked what brings you here? What is your story?”

You looked up to meet his eyes, unable to stop the pain that they revealed, and he took your hands gently in his warm ones, “The world has treated you poorly I see.”

You felt tears build in your eyes – this kindness so alien to your battered heart you couldn’t help yourself as you let out a soft sob. The man smiled kindly at you, squeezing your hands gently as he urged you to talk to him.

“I was f-forced to leave the man I loved,” you choked out, “his father tried to… hurt me.” Your explanation was an over-simplification, but you feared what may occur if you revealed the truth.

“Was he your mate?” the man asked kindly, and you shook your head.

“I am not Fae,” you explained, and he frowned, passing you his handkerchief as he stood.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, retrieving a small, hand-held mirror, and handing it to you. You took it with a confused expression before looking in, gasping under your breath as you saw your ears had taken on a delicate point.

“I, I don’t- that’s not possible.” You shook your head, eyes wide as they met his.

“Where do you come from child?” he voice was gentle as he took in your shock.

“Adarlan.” You whispered and he smiled sympathetically.

“Then I believe a glamour has been removed recently.” You could feel yourself shaking, the weight of the knowledge hitting you. “Let me take a name dear, you can start work tomorrow, we’ve been needing some extra hands around here.”

“(y/n) (y/l/n)” your voice was small as you stood, shaking his hand lightly. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem and remember when you work you can have a read through any book you like. Aisle sixteen contains many on the ancient spirits.” He looked down to your necklace pointedly and you bit your tongue so hard you tasted blood, desperate to not reveal any more than you already had.

“Thank you…” you trailed off and he smiled,

“Albert,” he finished for you. “And make sure to take care on your way home, this city is filled with powerful people, you would be smart to not mix with them.”

You nodded, pocketing the information in your mind, ready to add it to your list of rules.

--

Fenrys was tired. He had just gotten home from a month-long mission and all he wanted was to sleep, however he wasn’t quite ready to face Maeve yet and instead he decided to take a trip to his favourite library before she realised he was back.

He was walking in when he saw you, your eyes red but hopeful and he almost fell over at the sight of you. You were wearing common clothes but held yourself like royalty, head high and gaze ready to tear down a man who so much as looked at you wrong.

What he did next he wasn’t exactly proud of, but he needed an excuse, so he was willing to play his hand a bit. “Excuse me miss, do you happen to know where I could find the tilted goose?” your eyes widened when you saw him, fuelling his ego slightly.

He knew where the tilted goose was of course, it was one of his favourite bars, but you didn’t have to know that.

“Oh yeah, it’s just down this way. I’m walking that way I’ll show you,” your voice was like music to his ears, and he smiled, revelling in how you avoided his gaze, clearly intimidated by his stature.

“Thank you so much…?” he asked, and you smiled, softly, subdued.

“(y/n),” you stared walking in the correct direction, and he grinned.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful lady. Fenrys.” He placed a hand to his chest as you laughed lightly.

“Quite a flirt aren’t you?” you asked, eyes sparkling.

“Can’t help myself, I’m not sure I’ve ever met such a beautiful woman.” He looked down to you as he fell into step beside you, noticing that you were taking a much longer way than needed. “You new here?”

“How’d you tell?” your tone was self-deprecating, and he laughed.

“This way takes about five minutes longer.” He stated and you whirled around, pointing a finger accusingly.

“You know how to get there.” He felt his face heat up as he raised his hands sheepishly.

“Maybe…” he grinned, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you began to storm off.

“See you around princess!” he called after you, almost missing the way your shoulders stiffened momentarily before you called over your shoulder.

“You’d be so lucky!” you replied, pace quickening as he watched you climb a set of stars that led to some run-down apartments.

He laughed, the smiled on his face coming naturally and surprising him. Oh his life was about to get much better.

--

You shouldn’t have enjoyed the pretty man’s company. And you hated yourself for it.

But he was so kind and for five minutes he made you feel normal again, loved again. See you around princess! The words wouldn’t stop replaying in you head. You weren’t allowed to be a normal girl; you were a princess, and you were on the run, and you definitely had no time for handsome men who flirted with you.

You couldn’t betray Dorian like that, he was probably waiting for you to come home. And you planned to. You would build your strength and you would learn to fight, and you would tear the king to shreds.

But for now, you had to settle for getting through each day, and that meant you had no time for handsome distractions. As you steeled your nerves you felt the loneliness settle on your shoulders, wrapping around you like a shadow, and you fought to reach deep inside yourself, finding the sliver of magic that was curled up – dormant – inside of you.

You found it and fought to awaken it, only receiving a shard of the true power. You stood in front of the dirty mirror in your bathroom, taking in your newly pointed ears and watching as your necklace glowed gently, your eyes turning silver as you released a small amount magic, watching as the bright light shattered the mirror in front of you.

Your eyes widened at the loud noise and with a flinch the magic was gone, the only proof it was even there was the shattered mirror in front of you.

You stared back at the cracked reflection and squared your shoulders. You were going to train, you were going to fight, and you were going to win. Even if it broke you.

Betrothed [Heart of Steel]

Heart of Steel - One Shot

Do not read before you finish the series.

Pairing: Prince Magni Thorson x Princess Isabella of Midgard 

(Steve and Y/N also make an appearance.)

This is really for @all1e23​​ ❤️

“I do not wish to go,” Isabella declared at breakfast, shocking her family.

Everyone’s eating ceased and they all looked at her.

Thankfully it was only the King, Queen, and Prince she was sharing a meal with. Though she was smart and proper enough not to bring up such a subject if they had guests.

Her mother and father shared a look.

“Isabella…” her father began.

“Please, spare me your lectures, father.”

To everyone’s surprise, Y/N quickly stood up from the table. 

Out of propriety, Steve also stood, but looked at his wife with confusion.

“Come, Isabella,” she instructed her daughter.

“What?”

“I said come with me, Isabella.”

The Princess knew not to challenge her mother.

A few minutes later, she had followed Y/N to the archery range.

Y/N shoved a quiver of arrows and a bow in her daughters grasp. It was a rather unladylike gesture and even more improper for a Queen.

But Isabella took them none the less.

“The bullseye,” her mother ordered with a point to the target that was a 100 yards away.

The Princess did as she was told and knocked an arrow before just hitting the center circle.

“Now, tell me what bothers you,” Y/N’s voice was now gentle and soft.

Isabella lowered the bow.

“Keep shooting,” Y/N ordered. The softness disappearing again when she was forced to snap at her daughter to continue.

“I cannot do it, mother,” Isabella confessed as she released another arrow.

“Cannot marry Magni? Or cannot leave Midgard?”

“I love Magni,” Isabella instantly exclaimed. She shot another arrow, but it missed the target completely.

Y/N gave her daughter a sad look. “I know you do, my love. But I wanted to make sure you knew as well.”

Isabella let out a breath.

“You will miss home…and us?” Y/N asked her quietly.

Isabella simply nodded her head.

“I was the same. I believe all women promised to foreign men have felt what you are feeling now.”

Isabella hung her head. “Do you think me weak, mother?”

Y/N’s heart broke at such a question and gripped her daughter’s shoulders. “Of course not, Isabella! You are strong – stronger than I ever was at your age. Your father and I made sure of it.”

“You…You said it felt this way, as well.” Isabella started. “But you…love father. You have always loved him.”

Y/N sighed. “I have told you my truth before. Not only was I forced to leave Zamora… but I did so with a broken heart and with the belief that it would never be healed.”

They both knew what she spoke of, but it was all they would say of it.

Y/N kissed Isabella’s forehead. “We live in an unfair world, Isabella. Women are proclaimed as weak, but we are often asked to sacrifice the most.”

“He simply thrusts me to the side!” Isabella exclaimed.

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “Who?”

“Father!” The Princess bellowed. “It seems so heartless. He would not even dare to look at me during breakfast this morning.”

“Oh, Isabella,” Y/N whispered. “Your father is taking this worse than any of us. He did not look at you, because he was sure he would lose all composure. And he does not wish to make this any harder for you. He will miss you terribly.”

“Truly?” Isabella gasped.

Y/N nodded. “Your father loves you. It was not solely him who made this decision, it was mine as well. We would only give your hand to a man who would treat you with the kindness and respect you deserve, a man who would give his life to protect you. Do you understand?”

Isabella nodded.

“You are no longer a child, my love. But you need not fear, for your father and I have prepared you for this your whole life. You are a woman now, Isabella. And soon, you will be a queen. I know you are frightened, but you know what you must do.”

Isabella could not hold back the tears any longer. She fell into her mothers arms. “I will miss you so much, mother.”

Y/N refused to let herself cry. It would only make Isabella more scared. She must remaine strong for her daughter, no matter how hard it was.

“I know. I will miss you more than I could ever describe,” Y/N whispered to her daughter, hoping she couldn’t hear the shaking in her voice.

—————————

The next morning, the royal family stood in the courtyard as Isabella’s things were packed into various carriages.

Steve had been stoic through the entire ordeal. But Y/N knew he was struggling the most out of their entire family.

He watched as Isabella said goodbye to certain servants and ladies-in-waiting that were not joining her in Asgard.

When she reached Joseph, he wrapped her in a hug. Some would say it was rather improper, but neither of the siblings cared.

Y/N and Isabella said all they needed during their talk yesterday. But Y/N still gave her a tight hug and kissed her forehead.

Then Isabella reached her father.

The Princess curtsied, unsure of what her father expected of her.  

But Steve quickly stepped forward and softly placed his finger under her chin, lifting it gently so she looked at him.

“I am so proud of you, Isabella,” he told her firmly, yet with a quiet voice.

Unable to hold herself back any longer, Isabella threw herself into her father’s arms.

She would miss his hugs most of all. They had never failed to make her feel safe and loved, no matter what was happening in the kingdom or her life.

“If they should do anything to harm you or even if you are merely unhappy, you must tell me immediately,” Steve whispered in her ear. “I would start a war for you.”

And a war it would start, ripping a princess away from her new kingdom and marriage.

But the Princess knew her father’s words rang true. Steve would start a war with an ally and friend if anything were to happen to his daughter.

“Magni loves me, father – as does King Thor and Queen Jane,” she told him with a soft smile.

Steve pulled away and looked down at his daughter. “I know,” he agreed. “But I want to make sure you understand that Midgard will always be a home to you. It will not forget its Princess Isabella.”

She nodded.

“It is time to go,” he finally told her sadly. “The Knights of Howl will escort you to Asgard to assure you arrive safely.”

Isabella nodded and stepped back.

She gave one last glance at her family.

Y/N gave her a look encouragement.

Then Isabella turned quickly and mounted her horse. Just like her mother, she refused to travel in a carriage.

Though now she wished she had one so she could have privacy to hide her tears.

Isabella didn’t allow herself to look back as she heeled her horse into a gallop.

The Knights of Howl followed, already knowing she would race away in such a manner. Eventually she would slow for the rest of her party to catch up.

—————————

A couple days later, Isabella arrived at Asgard’s royal castle and was immediately shown to her wing. They gave her an unceremonious tour, since it was rather silly. She had practically been spending her summers in Asgard since she could walk.

The tradition was mostly for show. The keepers and servants all knew Isabella was more than familiar with the grounds.

“Where is Prince Magni?” Isabella finally interrupted.

The Ladies in Waiting shared a look at her bluntness. “Your Royal Highness, Magni would wish for you to get acquainted and to rest before seeing him.”

Isabella raised a challenging brow. “His Highness would wish for you to fulfill my desire. And what I desire is to see my betrothed. Bring me to him at once.”

A few minutes later, Isabella interrupted a council meeting Magni was in with his father.

Thor, reading Isabella quite quickly, ordered everyone to leave the room and exited with them, leaving the two young royals alone.

Without hesitation, Isabella launched herself into Magni’s arms.

“Hello, little one,” the Prince chuckled at her antics, but clearly did not mind in the least.

It didn’t matter how short or tall she was, every woman was smaller than Prince Magni. There were myths that he was part giant from him standing at 6’8.  

“Hello, bear.” She whispered into the furs of his cloak. A nickname she gave him after he had his growth spurt and started growing thick hair beyond just his head.

“I demanded to see you,” she muttered into his chest.

He smiled. “Aye, and it seems you got your wish.”

When he pulled away, he could tell there was a storm raging in her heart and mind. But he knew Isabella. She would keep her emotions intact when there was a risk of someone intruding at any moment.

“Shall we go to the tower?” He lowered his head as he whispered it to her.

Their tower, is what he should’ve said.

It was an abandoned part of the royal castle. But Magni and Isabella had made it their secret hideaway as children. No one ever found them there and they promised to always keep it that way.

Now Isabella let the wind whip through her hair and she looked down at Asgard. 

Magni immediately took off his fur cloak and placed it on her shoulders. 

“Do you ever think about what being born a man grants you?” Isabella asked.

Magni tilted his head ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”

“You are Prince Magni Thorson, heir to the Asgardian throne.” She turned and gestured to the kingdom that lay before them. “You do not abandon your home. Instead, you are to protect it for your entire life. No one demands that you leave. No one tears you from your home. No one dares question you.”

Magni quickly realized what she was trying to tell him.

He stepped toward her, gently cupping her cheek. It was truly astonishing how a man of his size and strength could be so gentle.

“Is that how you feel?” He whispered to her. “As if we have torn you from your home against your will?”

Isabella hung her head in shame. “No, of course not.”

“Isabella,” the way he said her name still caused a chill to go up her spine. Then he kissed her forehead, only making it that much harder for her to concentrate. “Share your feelings with me.”

To her surprise, tears flooded her eyes as she looked up at her betrothed. “I miss Midgard already. I miss my father and my mother and my brother. I know it is my duty to be here. But I cannot ignore my anguish.” She shook her head. “No matter how much time I have spent here, I am still a foreigner.”

Magni instantly pulled Y/N into his chest. The gesture always seemed to calm her down.

“Betrotheð, how can I make this passage less painful for you?” He asked.

And when Isabella looked up into his eyes, there was nothing but worry and sincerity in them. Magni loved her. She knew that. It was never a question. But to see and feel it so clearly was still so jarring to her.

“Do you wish to write a letter to them? If so, I will get our fastest courier to deliver it. They shall receive it as soon as tomorrow if you so desire.”

Then his eyes sparked with another idea. “Shall I have the cooks make you a traditional Midgardian meal?”

“Or we could go for a moonlit ride?”

Isabella couldn’t help but laugh at her betrothed. “Must you be so kind?”

“You should grow accustomed to it, Isabella. For I will always be kind to you.” He brushed her cheek. “I will do anything to make Asgard feel like home to you. All you need is ask.”

She nodded. “The homesickness will pass. I promise I hold no bitterness or regrets toward our situation.”

He nodded.

“Could I write the letter, please?” Her voice was so quiet, yet so keen. “I wish for my family to know that I have arrived safely.”

“Of course.”

“Do you?” Isabella suddenly asked.

“Do I what?”

“Hold any bitterness or regrets towards our situation? We did not choose this for ourselves. It has been promised since we were merely children. I was only informed of it a year or so ago. Though I had my suspicions.”

“Well, I knew much longer than you…”

Isabella’s brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

Magni smiled at her confusion. “My father confessed of our promised union much earlier.” He laughed. “Do not blame him. He was only trying to comfort me.”

“However do you mean?”

“Do you remember when Prince Azari of Wakanda visited?”

She nodded.

“The two of you got along quite well. He had won your affections rather easily. And I resented him for it. When my father asked why I seemed upset with the Wakandan visit, I expressed my fear that you would marry Prince Azari… and I would never see you again because you would be torn way to live in Wakanda for the rest of your life.”

“Oh, Magni,” Isabella sighed with a sympathetic look.

“You see, I loved you even then. I planned on marrying you all on my own.” He smiled. “Therefore, my father saw no reason for keeping our match from me any longer.”

Isabella’s eyes widened. “And you managed to keep it from me all that time?”

Magni frowned. “Father made me promise not to say anything to you. I understood why…especially since I was uncertain of your own feelings.”

“And do you still question them? My feelings?” Isabella challenged.

The Prince chuckled at her teasing. “Nay. I have your heart just as much as you have mine, little one.”

Isabella pushed forward and crashed her lips to his.

When she pulled away, she was smiling. “Aye, you do.”

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

I wrote this very, very quickly. And was editing while i was working lol. So i apologize for any and all errors. 

The Oath - 1 (teaser)

Parings: Dark!Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: After an unsuccessful escape attempt, the reader finds herself taken as a spoil of war. She ends up in the bed of a ruthless Alpha, the son of John Winchester, leader of the kingdom of Gilead. She struggles to conceal her true identity and navigate a society where being an Omega means nothing more than serving at the pleasure of powerful men.

Warnings: non-con, sexual assault, rape, attempted suicide, sexual slavery, branding, torture, ownership, voyeurism, anal play, smut, violence, and murder.

Sam is dark in this story. If any of the warnings are triggers for you, I would suggest skipping this one. Please read and heed all the warnings.

Beta: ilikaicalie

Chapters 1-6 are currently available on Patreon.  To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

-

ONE

John Winchester is not a king. 

And yet he formed a rebellion the likes of which had never been seen before. He brought together enough powerful men who still believed in the old ways. Archaic beliefs that had long since been done away with in the outside world. With that belief came undying loyalty. He overthrew his native Gilead in a matter of months. When the time was right John killed his king, assumed the throne and promptly slaughtered every soul who refused to bow to the new order. 

And then he set his sights on the surrounding countries. First he took Lebanon, a small country to the south. His men raped and pillaged, burnt villages to the ground. And then he came for Eden. 

What John didn’t count on was a man just as ruthless. King Benedict’s army was strong, every soldier was loyal, fighting to the death against Winchester’s legions. The war raged; thousands died. One year became two. Then it became clear that Eden would fall. 

So Benedict sent his children away. He hid them as best he could in hopes of saving their lives. 

And that is where our story begins. 

-

You run as far and fast as your legs will carry you, lungs burning, bare feet cut to shreds and caked in cold, thick mud. Your feet sink in and every step is a fight to pull yourself up from the muddy ground. The rain started an hour ago, a sprinkle that quickly turned into a torrential downpour. A deluge coming down in sheets as the wind howls and the cold of night sets in. 

But still you run.  

In the dark one’s eyes usually adjust, but not tonight. The storm and the wind are brutal as if sent from a higher power to punish you for the sins of your family. 

You haven’t heard the dogs for a long time, but that doesn’t ease your fears. At least when you could hear them snarling in the distance, you had some sense of how far away the danger lurked. But now there’s only thunder, the wet sound of rain pounding down on the forest, and your heartbeat thumping in your ears. 

The cold sinks into your bones, legs long numb as you stumble and fall into the mire. For a moment you lie there contemplating death. This could be it, you could give up and lay here until the elements take you into an endless sleep. Then it would at least be over. After two days of nonstop running for your life, you’re ready to give up. 

You stare up into the dark, trees bending from the force of the wind, branches whipping like lashes ready for a victim. Through the deafening noise of the storm, you hear the sound of horse hooves thundering closer and the shouts of men calling out in the dark. 

“Over here!” a voice booms. 

You turn over onto your stomach, trying to push yourself up with shaking arms, teeth chattering together. But your body gives out and you collapse back into the muck. 

A pair of boots plant themselves inches away from your face as two hands curl around your arms, lifting you into the air. 

“This one’s alive!” The man calls back to his comrades. 

He hikes your body onto his horse, lying face down with the horn of the saddle pressing into your belly. Then he climbs on behind you. 

Your father hid you away in a village on the outskirts of the kingdom in hopes that the war wouldn’t spill that far north. You were there for nearly a year before they invaded. Hundreds of soldiers rode on the village and made fast work of destroying everything and everyone in their wake. It was two nights ago you awoke to the screams of a neighbor boy, his tiny voice calling out for help as flames licked over the thatched roof of their cottage. 

The Winchester’s men are known for being as ruthless as her father’s. Perhaps in retaliation, perhaps they’re just heartless men. There’s no way to know who started the descent into madness, but the war went from soldiers killing each other in the battlefield to slaughtering innocents in their beds. There’s no end to the horrors each land has inflicted upon the other, and now you’re in the middle of the nightmare. 

The rider unceremoniously drops your body to the ground with a thud and your forearm snaps like a brittle branch. The pain spurs you back to life as you scream, rolling onto your back, cradling your arm. You howl in pain as men surround you in a circle. 

“You broke her already,” one of them chuckles. 

“She’ll have less fight in her this way.” A large soldier kneels down to get a better look. “I bet she’s something to look at once we get her cleaned up.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you cry, inching backward. The rain has let up, now it’s little more than a light shower sprinkling down. 

“It’s up to you if it hurts,” one laughs. 

“Have you taken two cocks before?” A bearded man grabs you by the hair, wrenching your neck back to look at him. You whimper, mouth falling open in agony as your arm shifts and the broken bones rub together. “Answer me!”

“No,” you scream in terror, tears trailing down your cheeks. 

“‘Bout time then, don’t you think?” The man lifts your weight up by your hair, nearly tearing the roots from your scalp until you’re on your tiptoes, scrambling to follow him.

“Let me go!” you shriek as he walks you, barefoot and broken, toward the closest tent. You’re in a camp; tents, and soldiers as far as the eye can see. 

You can’t think. Your arm is enough to make your stomach turn. You know what comes next, you’ve heard the stories. Soldiers fight so they can enjoy the spoils of war and you are a commodity, a treasure plucked from the battlefield. When they rape you it will be brutal, as many men as one woman can take.

You would rather have frozen to death in the woods. 

“Take her dress off. Let’s see her tits!” A man calls out and a dozen voices rise in excited agreement. 

Squealing in pain and horror you look at the crowd of men in the room while your tattered dress is cut from your body. The men push and pull with no concern for your arm until you’re naked and trembling, curled into a ball on the floor. 

“Stand her up, let’s have a look at her.” 

A strong hand is back in your hair, yanking you to your feet as two sets of hands grab at your breasts and another slips between your legs. Two rough fingers push upward into your cunt and you beg for them to stop but the pleas fall on deaf ears. 

“If she’s going to scream like that you’ll have to gag her. I can’t listen to that howling all night.” A new man enters the tent, he gives you a once over as he moves to ladle broth from a pot above the fire. He stops and turns, giving you a closer inspection. “Where’d you find her?”

“In the woods.” The man touching your breasts gives your nipple a pinch and laughs. “She’s a little worse for wear but she’ll do. Would you like first go, my lord?” 

Somewhere in the back of your head, it registers that this man is someone important but all you can concentrate on are the fingers inside you and complete, utter humiliation. 

“I have no taste for this.” He looks you over, eyes narrowing and for a moment you’re sure he knows who you are. They’ll kill you now. “Let her go.”

The hands leave your body immediately and he wanders closer, leaning in to get a sniff. 

“Did none of you think to check her?” he asks. “You’re lucky I came when I did. The penalty for a Beta fucking an Omega is death and every one of you was about to seal your fate.”

“What?” The largest man steps back, his expression melting into a horror of his own. “She doesn’t smell like one.”

“She’s taken something, but any Alpha could smell her from a mile away.” He reaches out, cupping your chin, turning your head side to side to inspect your face. “You must always have an Alpha check.”

There’s a low rumble from every man in the room, the sound of disappointing discontent. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you credit for finding her. I’m sure my father can cough up a little gold for such a special discovery.” 

“We are grateful.” The man bows his head. 

This momentary savior grabs you by the arm and hauls you, naked and crying, out of the tent toward the far end of the camp. Men stop to watch, chuckling and whistling. 

He’s an Alpha, but at least it’s only him. Unless he has a particularly nasty disposition, you can survive one Alpha. Just as your legs are about to give way he turns toward a large tent in the center of the rest. Lifting the flap, he shoves you inside. 

There’s a roaring fire in the makeshift fireplace with tables and chairs set up around it. Furs and blankets cover the floor. There are two beds, one either side of the room. From the back of the tent a man emerges. An Alpha, you can smell him immediately. He’s taller than the man holding you, with broad shoulders and a thick beard. He stops to inspect this naked, trembling woman in front of him. 

“What’s this?” 

Low Expectations

Description: Roman has very low expectations for his birthday. After all, who would want to do something for him after he’d hurt everyone so much? (also thank you so much @couldbegrayer for giving me the idea for this. I hope its ok.)

Pairings: LAMP

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: crying, self deprecation, food mention (let me know if I missed anything)

       Roman started the day just as he did any other, groaning wearily at the sound of his alarm. In fact, the only difference between today and any other day was the fact that it was June fourth. His birthday. Roman sighed at the thought of his birthday, reluctantly dragging himself up out of bed. Normally, he would be ecstatic for his birthday. After all, it was a day to celebrate him! A day to feel appreciated! A day to get gifts! But with recent events, he knew the others weren’t going to want to do anything for his birthday. And, honestly, after the way he had acted in the past and in the last video, he didn’t blame them. It was fine, he had a ton of work to get done anyway. No time to spend on frivolities like birthdays. He went through the motions, putting on some comfortable clothes since he was just working in his room today, making his bed, brushing his teeth, when a knock on his door promptly interrupted his morning routine. Roman sighed, knowing it was probably Patton coming to tell him that breakfast was ready. He just didn’t quite feel like putting up his over-glittery act up today.

“Roman!” Patton greeted as Roman opened the door.

“Hello, Padre! What can I help you with on this fine morning?” Roman asked, eyeing the covered tray in Patton’s hands curiously.

“I have something for you, Ro! I actually thought you’d still be in bed, but I guess this still works.”

“What still works?”

“Go sit on the bed and I’ll show you, silly.” Patton giggled, pushing him farther into the room. Roman did as he was told and went to sit on his bed where the tray was unceremoniously shoved at him. Patton smiled and, with a grand gesture, grabbed the lid off the tray revealing a plate of Roman’s favorite breakfast foods.

“Wha—What’s this for?” Roman stammered gazing at the food in awe.

“It’s for your birthday, obviously, Ro.” Patton replied, smiling at the creative side. Roman beamed back at him.

“Well, thank you, Padre.” He grinned. At least Patton would always be the caring puffball to make sure everybody got something on their birthday.

“You should come downstairs once you’re done, Ro. So everybody else can wish you a happy birthday.” Patton suggested, getting ready to leave. Roman almost, almost let his smile drop at the words. He knew the others wouldn’t really care. He didn’t want a happy birthday that Patton forced them to say, but Patton looked so excited. So, Roman nodded and promised to be down as soon as he was done.

Once Patton left, Roman dug into the food, savoring every bite. It had been a long time since he’d eaten a proper breakfast, usually being too busy to finish all of his or sometimes even neglecting to come down to eat at all. In his opinion, he finished with breakfast all too soon. He really didn’t want to go down and face the others. But still a small part of him hoped that maybe…just maybe they would do something. Maybe actually want him around for his birthday at the very least. It would be nice to spend his birthday with other people even if it was just sitting in the same room as them without an argument breaking out. But that was selfish of him. Why should he hope for them to do something for him when he’d treated them so terribly before? Sighing and steeling himself, Roman set the tray aside and stood. Might as well get the disappointment now so he could get to work. He had to get down some ideas for the new videos Thomas was working on, and he had a lot to sift through. Trying to muster his normal boisterous smile, he walked downstairs. In fact, he was halfway down the steps when he realized how much Virgil and Logan must actually dislike him. He’d made fun of both of them for so long. He’d said they were better off without Virgil. He’d called Logan so many names. Sure, Patton had said that they loved him, but yeah right, who was he kidding. Maybe he should just go back u—

“Surprise!!!” a shout resounded from the sitting room as Roman reached the bottom of the stairs. He’d been so focused on his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the three people standing in the fully decorated living room. He—He couldn’t believe it. There were red and gold streamers everywhere. There was a throne in the center of the room with a shiny golden crown and fancy red and gold scepter sitting on it, waiting for its owner. In the corner he could see a table with all of his favorite foods plus a giant cake that read happy birthday Roman in beautiful looping frosting on the top. But the thing Roman zeroed in on was the giant banner hanging across the wall, so big that no one could miss the proclamation on it: Happy Birthday To Our Hero. Roman didn’t even realize that tears were rolling down his face until he sucked in a shuddering breath. He covered his mouth with his hands, trying to muffle the happy sobs that tried to force their way out. This was all for him? They had gone through all of this work for him? That—That banner was—That banner was for him?

“Roman, are you ok? We didn’t mean to make you cry, we’re sorry.” Patton gasped, immediately running to Roman’s side. Roman gladly collapsed into Patton’s outstretched arms, sniffing as he tried to get a hold of himself.

“I’m—I’m ok, Pat.” He managed to get out in hiccupping breaths. “I’m just—so happy. I—didn’t think you’d—You’d do anything—for my birthday.”

“Oh, Ro.” Patton whispered, soothingly, petting the prince’s hair. “I meant it when I said we love you, Ro.”

“But I hurt all of you so much. I’m—I’m a disappointment to you all. I’m sorry.” Roman replied, after he had managed to calm down a bit.

“Hey, Princey. None of that, ok? All of that is in the past. You may have been a little bit of a jerk, but you’ve been making efforts to be kind. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.” Virgil jumped in.

“And you can hardly be called a disappointment.” Logan pointed out. “Thomas has chosen a creative path for his career, which would be entirely impossible without you as you are his creativity. You are to thank for most of his achievements, and without your help I doubt he would have made it very far in his current career pursuits. You are, in all ways, remarkably talented, Roman.

“I—” Roman didn’t know what to say. They—They really thought this?

“Alright, alright, enough of this mushy stuff. It’s time for you to take you’re place as our hero and prince, birthday boy.” Virgil, smiled, gently, grabbing Roman’s hand and pulling him toward the throne. With his free hand, Roman wiped away the rest of the tears clinging to his face and gigged softly in pure happiness. Virgil let go of his hand only to grab the scepter and crown and gesture for him to take a seat. Once he sat, the anxious side carefully placed the crown on Roman’s head and handed him the scepter before leaning in close.

“Happy birthday, Princey.” He whispered before giving him a quick peck on his cheek. Roman felt his face flush, but his was nothing compared to Virgil’s bright red blush as he quickly hid a grin. Next Logan cleared his throat and approached Roman’s throne.

“Roman, I’m truly happy that you exist. I suppose the mindscape would be very dull without your creative flashes and dramatic singing and acting. Happy birthday, my prince.” He said, an unusual softness in his voice. Honestly, if you didn’t know him well enough, you’d almost miss the loving look in his eyes, but Roman caught it and couldn’t help but smile.

“Roman, we all love you so much. You deserve to be told how amazing you are more often. You deserve so much, Roman. I’m sorry, things have been hard and confusing and—and not great, but today is to focus on you and how amazing and important you are. So, let’s get this party started. Happy birthday, Kiddo.” Patton smiled, reaching over to pull Roman into another hug.

“I love you guys.” Roman half-laughed, half-cried. “I—Thank you. Thank you guys so much.”

One sappy group hug (and maybe a few tears) later, the four were eating snacks in a cuddle pile on the floor, watching some of Roman’s favorite Disney movies. Roman smiled as he glanced around at his famILY. Later they’d dig into the cake, Roman would open his gifts, and they’d all party and have a good time, putting the past behind them and their problems at bay. But for now, Roman was perfectly content curled up in the middle of the ones he loved, watching Disney movies, and feeling more loved and important than he had in a long time. This birthday wasn’t what he had expected at all. It was a hundred times better.

Taglist: @catolicabuena

Lie to Me (Ch. 24 of 28)

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)

Words: 2100

Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)

SHOUTOUT TO @molmcb and @jessiejunebug, whose faces I have cared into marble so they shall forever be immortalized as gods

Requested Tags: @deraniel, @iamverity,  @yasnooshka24, @wegingerangelica, @themusingsofmany , @dark-night-sky-99, @tarynkauai, @stuffandstuff-stuff, @angelicshinigami, @my-current-fandom-is, @geekysimmerthings,           @lokis-butter-knife, @help-i-need-a-social-life, @vodka-and-some-sass

WARNING: descriptions of anxiety, PTSD, and severe depression

When the cab finally drops you off at your apartment, you flash him your badge, tell him to charge it to Tony Stark, and then wander away without another word.

Your hands shake as you try to unlock the door- these damn tremors, they haven’t gone away yet, even though the doctors promise they will- and it takes you much too long to finally get the key into the lock and twist and open the door and close it behind you and lock it back.

Then you secure the chain, tugging it tight. And turn the lock again a few times, just to be sure it’s latched. Paranoia has become something of a friend since the incident.

Your small home speaks volumes about your mental state. The bookshelf, normally pristinely kept, is full of tomes that have been unceremoniously shoved back into their places any which way. The sink is overflowing with dishes. You’re not sure if there’s anything remotely edible in the fridge. The blinds are drawn tight and patched with cloth to block out as much of the outside world as possible, because sometimes even seeing the sky is too much on a bad day.

Today qualifies as a bad day. You reach for the bottle of pills you know will be close at hand and pop one into your mouth, swallowing it dry. After a second thought, you swallow another.

You stand in the doorway for a moment, not sure what to do. Amongst the panic attacks, the healing scars, and the demons lurking in every shadow, Loki was the only thing keeping you functioning as vaguely as you were. Now you feel like there’s nothing to tether you from spiraling out of control- no green eyes, no warm smiles, no stories to smooth over your ragged nerves. He’s gone, facing a fate you can’t even begin to imagine, and you won’t even get to be his knight in shining armor. He’ll forever be your hero, and you can never return the favor.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a kind voice whispers, “No, my dear. I believe you saved his.”

The sweater Loki magicked gets wrapped tighter around you, even though the warmth has long since worn off. Your bed is cold, despite all the blankets piled onto it, and once you’re finally burrowed in amongst the pillows you let yourself release the sobs that you’ve been holding back, making your chest ache with emptiness.

Sleep is going to be a long time coming.

Weeks pass in a blur. You don’t really keep track. It takes you far too long to realize you haven’t been in to work- would there really be any point in going back? Did they believe you were brainwashed? Would they try and ‘recalibrate’ you?- but SHIELD hasn’t called you either, so you just let it lie. You keep up with those mandated therapy appointments a few times, and then they switch to conference calls, since you start having difficulty going outside. Eventually when your phone rings you just sit there and watch it chime until the screen goes dark once more. You’re not really in the mood to tell someone all about how pathetic you’re being.

Because you know it’s pathetic. The anxiety attacks, the nightmares, the listless spells where you’re content to do nothing but watch shadows creep over the walls as the sun moves from dawn to dusk. You can’t even go to the grocery store without someone accidentally jostling your arm and having to reflexively hold back a shriek. Most days seeing your own reflection in the mirror is enough to make you jump.

So you spend your time sleeping, though that sleep is consumed by nightmares. The taste of blood on your tongue, the sharp crack of your ribs splintering into pieces, the feeling of concrete beneath you as you make peace with your final resting place. Sometimes you see Loki as he appeared in front of you, hazy and surrounded in green magic, ready to slaughter enemies as he sees fit. Your guardian angel. But in your dreams, he never reaches for you like he did that day. He just watches as you feel breath slipping away moment by moment, an indifferent sort of smirk on his lips. You cry, you scream for him, willing your broken fingers to close the gap between you- your bones crumble to dust before you do.

When you’re tired of living your own personal hell on repeat, you make a habit of sitting at the window looking up at the stars, trying to keep him alive in your mind. You hope he isn’t in pain. You hope that Thor has kept his promise, keeping him safe the best he can. You hope… well. You hope a lot of things.

You take to imagining a thousand and one ways you might get to him. Break into Stark’s lab and demand information on the Bifrost. Sneak into SHIELD’s vaults and swipe the Tesseract; use it to do… something. Somewhere in the universe he’s standing judgement before a judge who’s been biased against him from the start- why would he think to be fair now? Thousands of years ago, a little baby frost giant was thrown into a narrative where he’d always be five steps behind, always second best. He never even got a fair shot. You wipe a tear from your cheek. Life isn’t fair, but if it’s going to be this brutal, the least it could do is offer you a happy ending.

You must’ve fallen asleep against the window pane, because for once your dreams are ethereal and covered in stars. You float past space and time, and when you reach out to touch the sparks lazily floating through the air, they collect like small galaxies on the tips of your fingers. Some invisible string tugs you forward, gentle yet relentless, and you allow yourself to follow it, wherever it might lead. Over a glittering rainbow bridge that floats in a dark, vast ocean; towards a golden castle pointed towards the heavens. There’s a strange sense of familiarity here, as though you’ve walked this path before. Perhaps in another dream; perhaps in another life. The thread winds you through the halls of the gilded castle. You pass a throne room that could hold a nation, a single dias fit for a king. There’s a library on your left, full of powerful things, illuminated by a crackling hearth. A room with a locked door that shimmers with runes and wards glowing blue. They say hello as you pass.

Finally, descent- layers upon layers of staircases, past whom you assume to be guards, with their armor and swords, though they don’t even turn an eye toward you as you float by. Your feet don’t make a whisper on the stone floor. There are glass cages all around you, similar the ones at at SHIELD, but they reek of power. Only, it isn’t glass, exactly- it shimmers and refracts in the dim light. A beckon. You fingers pass through the wall of energy easily enough, then your hand- then you start to feel some resistance. You frown and push harder, determined, though you don’t know why or what waits for you on the other side.

There’s something in the corner, and it moves with a heavy clanking noise when the rest of you finally gets through the boundary. It can sense you, unlike everyone else in this strange place. “Who is there?” A man’s voice, tired and wary. Familiar? More rattling, which you can now see comes from thick golden chains sprawled on the floor and looping off into the darkness. “Show yourself!”

Yes. You know that voice. And his hair, though it’s messier than you’ve ever seen it. His eyes, dull as they may be, are still the ones you’ve been dreaming of since the day he left. With a cry, you rush to Loki, kneeling on the ground in front of him where he sits with manacles binding his wrists and ankles. “Loki! Loki I- can you hear me? Oh god, please…” gently, you let your fingers tuck a piece of his black hair away from his eyes. He jerks back, confused, but more alert. “No, it’s okay, don’t be scared. It’s just me. I- I found you, I don’t know how but-”

“Y/N?” You don’t think your name has ever sounded more beautiful than in that moment. “Love, is that you?”

“Yes! Yes, can you see me? I’m right here. I’m right in front of you.”

“No… perhaps? A little, out of the corner of my eye.” Tentatively, he raises a hand and traces a gentle thumb against your cheekbone. It feels as insubstantial as a breeze, but you could cry from that small touch nonetheless. It’s him.

“I found you,” you whisper again. It’s him it’s him it’s him.

“So it would seem.” You giggle as a child would, proud of yourself. “And how, precisely, did you manage that?”

“I- I don’t know. I fell asleep and wandered around this castle for a bit, and then I was here. Where am I? Where are we?”

“Ah.” There’s something he’s not saying- you can hear it hiding underneath his tongue. “I think you must be dreaming, my love.”

“I- are you sure?” You glance down at your ghostly hands, still shimmering with starlight. “It seems so real.”

“You always did have quite the active imagination, Witling.”

You hum nonchalantly, taking in the dark circles under Loki’s eyes, the rings on angry flesh trapped underneath his cuffs. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I am fine, love. Do not worry about me.”

“Bullshit,” you huff. “Don’t think I can’t see these.” You reach for a chain and tug, frowning when they barely move an inch.

He easily moves the restrains behind him, out of your reach. “Stop. I am far more concerned with you than myself.” Worried eyes roam your face. “What is wrong?”

“I’m tired,” you say simply, and your voice breaks halfway through. “Sleeping is… hard. And eating. And I need…” You is the missing word there, and though you don’t say it, he hears it nonetheless.

“I know, love. I know you are.” His voice is full of regret. “I never should have left you.”

“It’s not like you had a choice.”

“All the same. I wish it could have ended differently.”

The world around you wavers for a moment, then two. You look around, confused, instinctively reaching for Loki to pull him closer. “What…?”

“You can’t stay much longer, love.”

“I’m not leaving you! How will I find my way back?”

“You shouldn’t have come in the first place.” Green eyes darken. “I wish I could see you better.”

“I’ll find you again,” you say confidently, even though whatever strength that carried you here is slowly slipping away. “I promise.”

You wish Loki’s smile was more genuine, but as it is, you’ll take what you can get. “Such a brave Witling. Sleep, now. I am with you, even when you wake.”

A feather-light brush to your nose that feels strangely like a kiss makes your eyes open. You’re in your apartment, curled up next to the window, just like when you fell asleep. No rainbow. No castle. No Loki.

Only… you trace your cheek where maybe-Loki had done the same. It was so real. He was so real. Wasn’t he? Either way, you feel more at ease than you have in months. You have no idea what happened, but you don’t care. Seeing him was worth it.

To your surprise, you’re able to repeat your little cosmic jaunt every so often. You can’t control when or why, but the wandering seems to happen on the days you need them most. Sometimes he can’t hear you even when you sit beside him and confess everything you’ve ever wanted him to know, but others he’s so tangible you can lean against his side and press a kiss to his shoulder, if you work up the courage.

It isn’t perfect. You watch each other weaken by counting the shadows that appear under eyes and cheekbones, unable to offer any substantial comfort. You still break down more often than you should, and think of him even more frequently than that. But it’s easier to sleep at night knowing that even though he might as well be on another plane of existence, not even that can keep you apart forever.

Life still isn’t fair, not by a long shot. And you wouldn’t exactly call this limbo a happy ending. But it’s better than nothing, and so you savor every last drop.

A/N: I used the link below to work out the specifics of Loki’s cell; it’s a funny read if you’re interested: 

https://missviolethunter.tumblr.com/post/105099519018/mcuasgard-afterthought-lokis-toilet-prison

New chapter in honor of my new phone! :D Now all my fanfics are in SUPER HI DEF! 

nullify part 5

an umbrella academy fanfiction // klaus hargreeves x reader

- part v: the disrupting, devilish, and demanding deal || part i ⋆ part ii ⋆ part iii ⋆ part iv ⋆ part vi ⋆ more parts to be released

- synopsis: Finally, the truth of the Hargreeves story comes out. It's a little hard to believe, but what's even worse is what exactly they need your help for. Vanya, you're happy to deal with, but Klaus? Looks like you two are going to be spending a great deal of time together as well.

- notes: hello oh gosh okay i am sorry this hiatus was so long but i am 100% done all my exams so i am officially back at it and writing actively. expect next chapter out soon and it will be a good ol funny fluff klaus heavy chapter okay i love you all i'm sorry, adios

link on ao3 

____________________________

“Do you want to put your pants back on?”

“No,” Klaus smiled, flopping down next to you on the couch and wrapping his arm tightly around your shoulders.

“Then off you go,” you smiled politely back. He gave you a sort of quirked, curious look, but you quickly shoved him off on to the floor before he could figure out your intentions. “I came here to get answers, not to get diseased.”

Klaus mock gasped, while Luther tried to suppress his half-snort laugh from behind his rather large hand. Klaus just crawled halfway across the floor to where he had dropped his pants and slipped them back on— struggling a bit because wow was that leather tight— mumbling incoherently under his breath.

“So, who’s going to be the one to tell me why exactly I’m here?” You questioned, pulling your legs up and crossing them under you, looking from Klaus, to Luther, and then at Five. All three looked at each other as if they hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead. Lovely.  Five sighed as he sat on the chair across from you and leaned slightly forward, clasping his hands together as a serious look befell his face.

“I guess I’ll start at the beginning. Just hold off on any questions until the end, it might be a bit hard for you to believe.”

You couldn’t hold back your laugh as you leaned back comfortably. “We were all born to mothers who hadn’t really been pregnant and have powers because of it. You’re afraid your story will be too much for my mind to comprehend? Have a little faith in me.”

Five raised an eyebrow, and Klaus moved back to sit beside you once his pants were properly back on. “Oh, you say that now.” Klaus smiled, giddy in his fidgety excitement, “but personally, I can’t wait to see your reaction.”

“Klaus,” Luther grumbled in an almost warning gesture. Klaus ignored him.

Jesus, you didn’t have time for this.

“For fuck’s sakes, will one of you just spit it out already!”

A moment of silence followed your outcry, but then rather unceremoniously, Five stated point-blank, “we’re from the future and traveled back in time to stop the apocalypse from happening.”

And then, like the clever little slice you are, you allowed yourself a moment of silence as well. You couldn’t even hear your breath, a pin drop, a mouse scurrying across the house, yadda yadda and all those fun clichés.

“You in there?” Klaus asked. He even knocked you on the head lightly, murmuring, “I think you broke the poor thing.”

You swatted his hand away, and he reared it back into his chest, cradling it with the look of a hurt puppy. “I’m not broken,” you grumbled, sitting up a bit as you turned your attention back to Five. “I’m just wondering what you guys take me for. I’m not gullible. Yeah, maybe I believed at one-point Santa existed and was my fourth-grade teacher in disguise, but this? That sounds like a bad plot to a shitty TV show.”

Klaus moved to sit next to Five, covering the kid's ears as he did. “Shh, he was never around long enough for us to tell him the truth about Santa.” You just rolled your eyes as Five simultaneously jerked away so fast, throwing a fast punch to Klaus’s gut that had him doubled over groaning in a second flat. His attention turned back to you just as fast.

“This isn’t a joke. When I disappeared all those years ago, I found a way to travel through time but I got stuck there. What I found was nothing— no civilization, no us, no you. Everything was in ruins. It took me many years, but I found my way back to stop the apocalypse from happening.” At that, he exchanged an odd look with both Klaus and Luther. Klaus looked more sympathetic at that, his expression turning more serious in those moments. Luther meanwhile just looked uncomfortable and a little shutoff, his arms crossed so tightly against his chest that you wondered if those jacket sleeves would rip.

“And this apocalypse, when is it supposed to happen exactly?” you asked, deciding to play into whatever they were pulling. You should have known they were all insane. You’d expected it of Klaus, but man, were all of them this disillusioned? “Let me guess. Big meteors are supposed to rain down and destroy us like they did the dinosaurs? Oh! Better yet, all these fossilized dinosaurs are going to come back to life and eat us all!”

“Someone has an active imagination,” Klaus commented, a gleeful look crossing his face, but Five’s own cynical impatience cut both of you down. “No,” he sneered, standing up in what you assumed was his way of seeming more intimidating or serious. It was just hard to take it that way when he didn’t even reach five feet. “But if you stop talking long enough for me to tell you the story, maybe you would simultaneously stop proving your idiocy and get the answers you want.”

Well, then.

“Carry on.”

“So, you’re telling me all of you traveled back to the past— my present—three months ago after your sister almost ended the world?”

“Technically she did, we just popped right on out before we all rather disastrously perished,” Klaus interjected, speaking for the first time since Five finished relaying his tall tale of all that had happened. Luther simply groaned, tightening his crossed arms even more.

Five ignored them both completely. “In layman’s terms, yes, that’s what happened.”

Now, you were no doubt impressed by his ability to tell stories. It was convincing, you’d give him that, but you just weren’t positive it was true. If you sat there and told him you believed him, for one, you’d look like an utter idiot if they turned out they were lying. It would have had to have been an intricate joke on their part, but you’d be damned if it was going to be played on you. No. You needed to make sure that what he said was real. And there was only one plausible way to do it.

“I have questions. If you even pause in answering them, I’ll kick your ass for lying to me. Got it?”

Five nodded. Klaus just looked amused and leaned forward like he was ready to watch an entertaining game.

“If they aren’t going to be convinced, why are we even bothering telling them? This is a waste of time and energy.” Diego’s voice sounded behind you, causing you to jump a bit and exclaim softly, “Jesus Christ.” When the fuck did he get there? You hadn’t even heard him.

Twisting around and resting your arms on the back of the too-plush, white leather couch, you questioned, “are you sure all you can do is throw knives? Maybe you’re a cat shifter or something, you’re so sneaky. Here, let me test to see if you have nine lives— pass me one of your knives,” you smirked snidely, an impish imitation of the scowl he offered you back. Diego clearly wasn’t amused. “Listen to me, you—”

“Both of you, shut up,” Five snapped, his patience clearly wearing thinner by the second. It looked like the Fisher-Price poster boy might explode. A pity, but hey, you could live with it. “Why must you ruin the fun? I wanted to see the show,” Klaus sighed, resting his hand on the side of his face. You threw a pillow at him, and he caught it with a wink in your direction.

Standing up from your seat, noting with jealously how your butt hadn’t fallen asleep like it did on your thrift store found shit couch, you crossed your arms and stared down at the boy. Back to business.

“Whose apartment is this?”

“Allison’s. It’s a second one she barely uses, so it’s likely we’ll go relatively undetected,” Luther replied.

Made sense. “What year did you guys come from?”  

“2019,” Five replied in a bored manner.

Now that had you squinting your eyes a bit. It was 2015 now, so allegedly you could ask anything about the future.

“Did Jon Snow really die in the season five finale of Game of Thrones?”

Five tilted his head slightly in confusion, and Diego just looked annoyed as he threw his hands up and begun pacing. Klaus snorted. But surprisingly, Luther was the one to answer the question, shifting uncomfortably as his eyes darted to the ceiling, “uhm, no. He’s alive.”

His siblings gave him a questioning look, but you didn’t care which one of them actually knew. You were just thinking thank fuck he was alive. Well. Thank fuck if the Hargreeves were telling the truth and were from the future. Now you were really hoping they were.

“Who won the presidential election?”

Diego was the one to reply this time, a deeper bitterness attached to his tone than the one directed at you earlier. “Donald Trump,”  

Never mind. You hoped they were filthy, humorless liars.

Your face must have displayed your severe disappointment and revolt, as Klaus speedily added, “I would offer words of comfort, but even I can’t find the silver lining in it,” giving a small shudder as he said it.

“Well if you’re done with twenty questions, can I finally get to the part to where you come in, or would you rather waste my time for a while longer?”

You felt a twitch at the corner of your eye at Five’s abrasiveness, but you offered a sweet smile over it. “As a matter of fact, I would rather waste your time longer. Thanks.”

Was he getting red in the face? Ooo, delightful.

Diego apparently didn’t see the joy in it. He stomped over to you in his little combat boots and all, getting directly in your face. “You can nullify powers, and we have a sister who’s having trouble controlling hers, and no longer wants to try. Either you help, or get out and forget about all this."

You held your breath for a moment, eyeing him down in what you were sure was some unspoken fight for dominance. At least he was blunt about something both Klaus and Five had been leading up to. You could respect that. However, the situation on the other hand? It was a little confusing. If Vanya did actually have powers— and after having read her book, you were surprised in the least to hear of them— and was the cause for the end of the world, what could be done to really control them? You could stop it from happening maybe, granted you had no idea how much pressure your force field could take in stopping her from using them, but wasn’t that just a momentary fix?

“She nearly put an end to the whole world, or rather, she did, but you all just escaped it. What exactly do you need me for? You expect her to do it again or something? Where even is she?”

Luther suddenly pulled Diego back, taking his place in front of you as a voice for the collective of them. “She’s in one of the rooms with Allison now, but all you need to understand is we’ve been here for three months. For the first month, Vanya couldn’t even look at us. She wouldn’t speak. She was in a catatonic state. In the second month, we tried to understand the extent of her powers to figure out how to prevent another apocalypse from happening, but every time she tried to use them, she couldn’t control them. Now she won’t even try, but they’re still there. She’s a ticking time bomb.”

A small unsettled flare lit in your stomach. “She’s also your sister. Don’t talk about her like she’s just a problem to fix. From the story Five told, you guys locking her up and essentially ignoring her for her whole life was the catalyst for this whole thing. Yeah, I get it. She almost ended the world, and what she did to Allison was fucked up. I’m not condoning that. But if you’re actually going to help her now, then do it for her. Actually, be there for her. Don’t pin me— a stranger— on her to take the problem off your fucking hands.”

You had been in enough foster and group homes to understand the loneliness that often came with them. But it was one thing to be ignored, and another to be acknowledged as simply not good enough. Vanya’s book had been very telling, about all their lives and not just hers. Each Hargreeves sibling had been fucked over by their mad father, and undoubtedly you felt empathy and sympathy for each of their situations and not just hers. Though your life had its own tragedies at the hand of your powers and other’s opinion of them, you had still spent most of the time you could avoiding every being detected by Reginald at all, fearing being included in his little makeshift family. You had known the love of a father before. They clearly hadn’t. Growing up, the Academy thing left a sour taste in your mouth. It wasn’t until you had read Vanya’s book that you finally understood why.

Luther blinked at you in surprise, and you noted a bob in his throat as he swallowed a little nervously. He looked a bit cross like he might actually dare to argue back, but Klaus cut him off before he could, moving to stand beside him.

His wide eyes seemed to reflect a serious outlook, his face a little pale. “We all made mistakes, we know that,” he started off with, and you were once again shocked by the sincerity he seemed to be able to display. Your breathing was a bit ragged after getting so aggravated in your little monologue, and Klaus grabbed your hands and led you back to the couch as if calming an upset child. Ass face. Sitting across from you on to ottoman, he continued, “we all sat there pinning blame on one another when really, it was dear old dad who ruined us all. I want to help. We all want to help.” he squeezed your hands, before finally releasing them. “But we need you as well. Vanya needs to feel like she’s in a controlled environment. If she practices around you and things get out of hand, hopefully, you can turn it off before things go boom again.”

Leaning back, you sank down into the cushions and covered your face with your hand, the light not helping your now growing headache. You took a deep breath in and then out. “Okay. Okay, I’ll help,” you relented, dropping your hand to peer at Klaus’s hopeful little smile. You quickly shifted your gaze back to Five, who had been silent during the entire exchange, simply watching with a contemplative eye. “So, what’s the plan then? I just come over sometimes and stand guard or something while she does her thing?”

Five picked up a coffee mug of the table and took a sip, putting it back down as he muttered, “you ask a lot of questions. But no. We want to be as safe as possible, so the plan would be for you to move in here in case anything was to happen.”

You were quiet for a moment. Maybe a little too quiet, since Five looked a little surprised by your lack of response, which was odd, since you weren’t sure what he was expecting your reaction to be.

“You should stick to brooding. Humour is not your strong suit. Seriously, what’s the plan?”

“I’m not joking. That is the plan.”

Hmm.

Getting up from the couch, you picked up your tote bag, and then the broken clock which had still been sitting on the floor. You slipped it into the bag. Pulling down your sunglasses, you turned towards the group and gave a lazy salute, stating, “Well, it’s been real guys. I’ll be sure to send you a Christmas card.”

Klaus shot up so suddenly you almost got whiplash, and ran to the door to pin himself in front of it like a scraggly leather clad barrier. “Whoa, whoa, hold on a second,” he pleading with a frantic little laugh, “be reasonable.”

“Reasonable?” You huffed at the shithead, no trace of such amusement in your voice. “You want me to just drop my whole life to live with a bunch of batshit insane grown up super babies and be at your every beck and call? Hell no. I have two jobs. I have an apartment I need to pay for!”

Klaus muttered back awkwardly, “technically you’re also a batshit insane grown up super baby,” but before you could reach back into your bag for the clock to chuck at his head, Five’s hand gripped your wrist in a tight grasp.

“Will you calm down? If you don’t want to move in here, then Vanya can move into your apartment with you,” Five snapped, releasing his grasp as Klaus started to move back towards you like an inquisitive animal unsure if the being in front of it was a predator or not.

You scrunched your brows together. “Seriously? I told you guys she needs her family. Having her live with me isn’t going to do much good. Look, I am fine coming over once and a while to help out, I really am, but I can’t just drop my whole life. You guys aren’t going to be here forever, and what happens when you guys leave? I have to go back to something.”

Five took a step back, contemplating this as you spoke. Diego took the quiet opportunity to intervene with his own point of view, adding, “they’re right. This whole plan was bound to fail anyway. We can think of something else.”

You were about to agree with him, but before you could, Klaus interjected with a very loud, “wait, I have an idea!”

Luther stated, “well that’s a first,” and you decided your clock’s next target was going to be his big rude head instead.

“Vanya will live with you, but all of us can still visit you and stay with her when you’re at work or what not.” Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea, you thought. But still, she should be around them more so than around you. Part of fixing this whole situation was fixing their family relationship too. Klaus seemed to almost read your mind, albeit, a little misconstrued, as he added, “better yet, I’ll move in too! It’ll be fun, we can all paint each other’s nails and braid each other’s hair—

“Fuck no.”

Klaus frowned, grabbing your shoulders and giving your tense self a little shake. “Oh, come on. I thought we were getting along?”

You deadpanned, “I’m a terrific actor.”

Granted, his plan did have some merit, but you loved having your own space. Your apartment wasn’t even that big anyway. You had your room, a pull-out bed in your crappy makeshift spare room, and then that uncomfortable couch. You wouldn’t subject anyone to that no matter what.

“We’ll pay you if you agree,” Five interrupted your thoughts, and suddenly, you wondered why you had ever thought it had been a bad idea at all.

“Well in that case, hello roomie,” you smiled at Klaus, as his mouth popped open in slight shock. Ignoring him, you dropped your bag on the floor and turned back to the rest of the family.

“Well, let me meet Vanya. We should probably check to see if my force field can even keep her powers at bay in the first place. Or if she’s even comfortable moving in with me.” Lowering your sunglasses back down, you looked them all in the eyes and said, “I, of course, will be paid for my services no matter the outcome.”  

Klaus uttered a small, but very audible, awe of, “they’re magnificent, aren’t they?”

Pale Fire, Chpt 1

PALE FIRE, a Lord of the Rings fanfiction

Pairing:  Éomer and Lothíriel

Summary: Lothíriel wasn’t unacquainted with infatuation; after all, she was nearly twenty-one years old and (by Gondorian standards, at least) well past her prime. But while she was acquainted with infatuation and the whispers of attraction, this was entirely different. And it infuriated her. And when his line of sight but glanced over her, she felt heated from top of her hair to the base of her foot. No, not heated. Burning. Set aflame.  She felt as if she were the swine roasted on the spit for tonight’s dinner.

Rating: M

Click here for chapter 2

Chapter 1: A Missive

A salty mist blew from the shore up to the balcony, whipping Lothíriel’s skirts and staining the silk with sea spray. On any other day she would have been upset because this was the last passably extravagant gown she owned, but her heart wasn’t in it. She felt as she were one of the gulls flying over the blue waves.

Only a short while before, a soldier rushed to the kitchens to inform her that a lone messenger from Minas Tirith had arrived wishing to deliver news. A fortnight had passed since the last missive from her father, Prince Imrahil, informing her of his intentions to ride to Minas Tirith to aid the Steward of Gondor. While his letter was warm, he spoke of the great danger he would face as he raced the gathered Shadow to her uncle.

Lothíriel had thanked the soldier for the news. She had tried to keep her paces even as she ascended from the kitchens to her rooms, but once she had passed from watching eyes she had broken into a run. Upon entering her quarters, she had stripped herself of her plain linen gown. She donned her last dress worthy of her station to receive the tidings of war, be it ill or not. If the news was good, she would look the lively princess of Dol Amroth they used to know long ago. If the news were ill, her appearance would reassure her people that they were in capable hands. Close to tears already, Lothíriel had chided herself as she left the room. She must remain brave for her people, no matter what she was told.

The messenger was Alric, who was apprenticed to his father Alden, the Royal Courier. She had helped look after Alric when he was a toddler, though now he was almost thirteen summers. His mother Rícah was the palace cook, a matronly woman who Lothíriel loved dearly. Rícah had stepped into the role of mother when Lothíriel’s own had died when she was eight summers.

He looked grave when she had entered Grand Hall and when he looked upon her face he burst out crying and ran to her, burying his face into the bodice of her gown. Lothíriel’s heart dropped into her stomach as she embraced him until the tears subsided.

Alric stepped back and used his sleeve to wipe snot, before assuming a brave face.

“Princess Lothíriel,” he croaked out, forcing himself into a stilted bow. “I come bearing news as the-” his voice waned and he took a steadying breath, “I come bearing news as the new Royal Courier from Prince Imrahil.”

“Oh, Alric!” Lothíriel couldn’t contain herself. Her emotions were at war within: sorrow for the loss of dear old Alden who always had a quick joke and a hard candy in his pocket, and restrained joy for news that her own father remained in this world with her.

Something caught Alric’s eyes behind Lothíriel, but he bravely continued on. “Prince Imrahil has entrusted me with sharing these glad tidings with you: Sauron has been overthrown and the War of the Ring has ended. Your father and brothers have all survived battle and-” he ran his arm across his eyes to catch fresh tears as they began to fall once more, “and a descendent of Elendil sits upon the throne of Gondor once more. Your father bids me tell you to make haste to the city of Minas Tirith for the coronation, so that you may be joined with your family. Here.” He shoved a letter into her hands before walking behind Lothíriel to join Rícah who had entered shortly after Alric had bowed and was now silently sobbing uncontrollably. She embraced him and their sorrow, while not dulled, was shared.

Lothíriel shook her head, dispersing the memories. She let her eyes trail out across the waters. A true blue reflected the sky. White foam hit rocks at the foot of the white sandstone walls of the palace. Gulls screeched and dove and emerged with fish clutched in their claws. A lone butterfly fluttered against the wind before disappearing from view. She stepped away from the balcony back into her quarters, away from the peace of the sea to the chaos inside. Her governess, Maren, frantically paced around the room while clutching the letter from Imrahil in her hand.

Maren was ranting, throwing gowns from the wardrobe into a pile on the bed. “Your father bids you leave as soon as a possible! To ‘make do with what you have’!”

Lothíriel gingerly sat on the settee next to the bed when Maren whirled around at her.

“You have absolutely nothing fit to wear at court, let alone for the first coronation Gondor has seen in eight hundred years!” Maren huffed.

“It’s actually eight hundred eighty-one years,” Lothíriel helpfully offered.

“Don’t you start with me, young lady!” Maren pointed her finger at her, causing Lothíriel to bite her bottom lip lest she remind Maren that such an action was hardly genteel. “All of your gowns look as if you are farmer’s daughter instead of a princess, or they are irredeemably stained from traipsing across the village—”

“If by traipsing, you mean dispensing food to the townspeople so they don’t starve to death as is my duty, than yes, I was—“

“Aha!” Maren exclaimed. She rushed out of the room before Lothíriel could get in a word edgewise. She was gone long enough to make Lothíriel wonder if she was supposed to have followed when Maren returned with servants lugging an old, heavy trunk, placing it in front of her with a dull thunk. A maidservant followed them with a rag, curtsied and dusted it off before being dismissed by Maren. The newly clean desk smelled like lemons grove south of the town. It was made of cedar and intricate wood carvings of waves and ships decorated the lid and the edges. The metal latch was shaped like the neck of a swan, with the nose fitting into a protruding ring to keep the lid closed. The chest was familiar to Lothíriel but was unclear to her how, like a distant memory. She reached out to touch it but was startled by Maren unceremoniously dumping all the dresses off the bed to the floor. Maren’s spindly fingers shifted the swan latch and lifted the lid.

“These used to be your mother’s,” Maren said, lifting up a gown and shaking it out. From the fabric, sprigs of lavender used to prevent insects dropped to the ground. She delicately placed it on the bed before reaching for the next one. “Now, while these are severely out of fashion by almost two decades, they are suited to your station and we can embellish them while we sail to Minas Tirith.”  

Maren continued chattering about threads and ribbons and stitches but Lothíriel heard not a word. She reached out her hand and stroked the fabric of the nearest dress, smoothing out a pleat. For a moment, the scent of her dear Naneth floated around her before being lost forever. It made her heart ache. Her hand stilled when she noticed Maren’s eyes appraising her with a frown.

“You are much plumper than your mother ever was,” she announced to the room, before rifling through the trunk. Lothíriel flinched and wanted to argue. She wasn’t plump. She just wasn’t comparable to a twig used for kindling. Everyone this side of the Ered Minrais knew that her mother had been willowy. Maren pulled out a corset, which had been unpopular in court as long as her mother’s dresses. “Hopefully once we lace you into this, the dress will fit,” she said, pulling out a kirtle and an overdress. “You’ll have to wear it every day until we get there to get used to the shallow breathing, especially if you are to dance with any of the lords.” She arched her brow at Lothíriel. “Speaking of attracting the lords, when did you get so dark, child?”

Lothíriel glanced down at her arms and grimaced, trying to be thankful for her genetics even if it did get her into trouble with Maren.  Maren was, to put politely, ancient. She had been Naneth’s governess. Naneth came from the coast of Harondor and had met Imrahil while he had been touring with the Dol Amroth navy. Maren had helped raise her ward’s children and often commented on the similarities between them.

Elphir had inherited their mother’s slenderness. Like Naneth, he had an uncanny ability to both read and command a room. Lothíriel often went to Elphir to ask for his honest opinion. His insight could never disappoint her and she admired his wisdom. How fortunate that the eldest son was born to fulfill his role of future Prince of Dol Amroth.

Erchirion had inherited Naneth’s ability to put anyone at ease, as well as her love of the sea. He was, in Lothíriel’s opinion, the best sailor out of the four of them (although Amrothos would protest if he heard that). Maren often told her that their mother was constantly causing disturbances in her childhood due to racing on the sea. Lothíriel had to guess that her wildness was part of what attracted her father. Her Naneth had the knack for being so easy-going that people who had never met her felt like they were life-long friends. Lothíriel was sure that these character traits were critical in winning the people of Dol Amroth’s favor, since her mother wasn’t exactly from the noblest of families.

Amrothos’ story-telling ability was just like their mother’s, although Ada said that the truth-stretching was unique only to him. Amrothos also inherited Naneth’s large eyes, which made him look entirely too innocent. Maren swore someday he would trick a woman into marrying him just by looking at her. She once said this in front of Amrothos and his facial expression had Lothíriel burst into giggles.  

Lothíriel had inherited her mother’s hair. Lothíriel had dark hair like her father and brothers, but in the summer if she stayed out in the sun long enough, it developed a sheen of deep red. It always held a naturally relaxed curl which was envied at court. However, Lothíriel had also inherited her mother’s complexion. Her mother had, as far as Lothíriel could remember, stayed inside as much as possible. When forced to go outside, she had powdered herself to achieve a pale appearance. Lothíriel was forced into powdering her face every so often at Maren’s insistence. She knew Maren was only looking after her, but Gondorian standards of beauty did not taint the love Dol Amroth held for Imrahil’s bride. Lothíriel wished that she, too, could be accepted.

“Child, I won’t be able to hide you with powder,” Maren whispered, horrified. “You’ve not a light patch a skin anywhere.”

Lothíriel had to concede. In general, her skin was naturally darker than her mother’s. But when Lothíriel stayed outside, her naturally tanned skin turned positively golden.

“I’ve been following Ada’s orders, Maren, while everyone else is away. And I can’t do that while sitting in the palace embroidering.”

Maren sniffed in response before turning back towards the dresses. “Then we truly have our work cut out for us. We must improve the dresses or else I’m afraid you will remain unattached permanently, for who would want a princess when she looks like that!”

Click here for Chapter 2

Summary: Lily Evans thought her life would be normal. Well, as normal as it can be for a muggle-born witch in England. But when her boyfriend turns out to be the prince of the wizarding world, and tensions begin to rise among factions of wizarding society, Lily must find her way in situations she never anticipated, and try not to lose sight of her identity. Word Count: 6,355 (27,974) Links: ao3 | FFnet | Tumblr: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6

A/N: Okay, so first of all, sorry for missing an update and then being late for this weekend's. Life has been a little crazy and a touch stressful lately. I got a promotion at work, and even though its awesome, its been a little stressful trying to adjust to my new position, and my schedule has been thrown off. I'm still going to try to stick to every other weekend, but it may or may not happen - my sister's baby shower is in a few weeks and then it won't be long until her due date, so life is going to be pretty crazy for a while. But I'll do my best!

This is a very long chapter though, so at least you're rewarded for all your patience! It was a lot of fun writing this, and trying to envision how Hogwarts graduation might work. Full disclosure - I do not know any latin, so everything here is Google translated/from a source describing Cambridge Uni's graduations. You'll see a few names in the graduation that you might not recognize - I borrowed some of my OCs from my other Marauder's era work, just a couple that I love with all my heart and felt compelled to bring along. Plus, you know, I had to bulk up the numbers somehow - it wouldn't really be realistic to have only 8 graduates, now would it? I hope you enjoy this chapter! 

And a friendly reminder that you can follow @whitefirepalace on Instagram for some edits that follow along with the story!Enjoy and feel free to leave a comment! :D

Chapter 7

“Oh my god, will you just do as I say?” Lily hissed exasperatedly out in the hall, and James had to stifle a laugh.

Moments later Marlene was shoved unceremoniously through the doorway of the classroom, tripping a bit over her feet before steadying herself and looking around. Dorcas and Mary entered a bit more normally behind her, with Lily following after all of them and closing the door.

“What the hell is going on?” Marlene swore, glaring at James and Lily.

“There’s something that I want you to know, that I want you to hear from me,” James began nervously. Somehow, sharing his secret never got any easier. Lily laced their fingers together and he could feel warmth and reassurance flowing from her.

“Are you dying or something?” Marlene asked with narrowed eyes. “Oh my god, did you knock Lily up?”

“No!” he answered hurriedly, completely caught off guard by the suggestion. “No, I… I’ve been at school under a pseudonym, and at graduation they’ll be calling me forward as James Eideard Aneirin, Prince of Scotland. There’s more titles and technically it should be HRH, but I’ve got Dumbledore to stick to that. It’s a tiny bit less pompous I think.”

“Are you genuinely telling us that you’re Prince James?” Marlene scoffed, while Mary and Dorcas shared surprised looks behind her back.

“Yep,” James said, pulling out the signet ring he kept hidden on a chain under his clothes and tossing it to her. “Family heirloom that, so be careful.”

Marlene turned the little ring over in her fingers, examining every small detail with wide eyes. When she was satisfied, she handed it back to him, her mouth gaping in shock.

“Who else knows?” Mary asked quietly.

“Well, Lily obviously,” he replied, fingers nervously playing with his glasses. “Sirius, Remus and Peter. And all the staff. But after graduation, everyone will know, so you don’t have to keep the secret.”

“You knew this whole time!” Marlene hissed, swatting at Lily.

Lily simply shrugged. Of course she knew, and of course she’d kept his secret. That’s what partners did, after all.

“Aren’t you worried that people will tell stories to the press about what a horrible, scandalous party animal you are and stuff?” Dorcas asked.

“A bit, but to be honest, I think the people who actually know any juicy stories won’t say anything,” James answered after a moment. “I’m pretty careful about the company I keep.”

“I suppose we should feel honoured then,” Marlene quipped, with just a touch too much bite in it.

“I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve betrayed you by not telling you sooner,” he said, the picture of contrition. “I just… I always wanted to be myself, to be normal.”

“It’s alright, James, we understand,” Mary answered for the group. “Thank you for telling us.”

James nodded and turned to Lily.

“I’ll leave you guys be for a bit,” he whispered, so only she could hear. “If there’s anything you need, or if they have any questions…”

Lily smiled and pushed a lock of his hair away from his forehead.

“We’ll be fine, go find the boys.”

James ducked out of the room, leaving the four girls alone. It was silent for a few moments as Lily waited to see what her friends would say.

“How could you not tell us?” Marlene burst out at last.

“He asked me not to,” Lily said, knowing full well that it would not be a popular answer.

“And apparently he matters more than we do,” Marlene spat.

It was an unfair statement. In the beginning, of course her friends had mattered more. James had just been a boyfriend and they were her best friends. But along the way he had become so much more - her partner, her future. He wasn’t more important than her friends, but they weren’t more important than him anymore either. They both mattered to her immensely. They were equal.

“It’s his life, Marlene,” Lily replied, trying to push down the sting of Marlene’s words.

“Oh, it’s not like any of us hate the royal family and would’ve tried to off him if we knew,” Marlene huffed, starting to pace back and forth.

“I think she meant that it wasn’t hers to tell,” Mary offered helpfully, but it only made Marlene spin on her.

“And you’re not mad at Sirius for not telling you?” she asked harshly.

“No, but we’re also… we’re not James and Lily, Whatever we are will be done after graduation, or at least by the end of the summer,” Mary admitted.

“Why would you say that?” Lily asked, partly in concern for her friend, but partly trying to seize any change in the conversation.

“It’s been fun, but it just could never go anywhere,” Mary shrugged, though she seemed to be putting on a good face. She had never been the most forthcoming about her feelings. “His family and they’re… station… he could never be with a muggle-born. And besides everyone knows that Sirius and Remus are in love with each other and they just don’t know it.”

Dorcas wrapped an arm around Mary, and Lily reached out for her, but Mary just shook her head.

“No, it’s fine, really. If they ever figure it out, they’ll be happy together,” Mary pressed. “I’ll find somebody more suited for me once we’re away from school, I’m sure.”

“There’ll be so many more people,” Lily agreed.

The room grew quiet again, no one really sure what to say.

“So I guess you’re going to be a princess then,” Marlene said, a bit begrudgingly. Lily smiled. She knew it, sooner or later, Marlene’s fascination with the royal family would overpower whatever else she felt.

“Yeah,” she answered, smiling more broadly. “Not imminently or anything, but someday.”

“So you don’t want James to propose yet?” Dorcas asked, her tone a little bit doubtful.

“I’m not sure I feel any which way about it,” Lily shrugged. “I don’t know that I want to be someone’s wife yet, but I’m also pretty positive about him, so I don’t really feel like I need to wait. I guess whenever he asks, I’ll say yes.”

“So is graduation the first time you’ll meet his family?” Marlene asked, her anger dissipating with every question.

“No, I went to the Palace during the Easter holidays.” Lily began telling her friends all about seeing James as the Prince during official duties and seeing the Palace and her talk with the Queen and her freakout afterward. They listened with rapt attention, and Lily realized just how good it felt to let out this big secret.

o . o . o

James sighed as he set aside his glasses, dipping his fingers into the tub of smoothing solution and applying it generously to his hair until it lay cooperatively, looking perfectly coiffed. Over the years he’d gotten quite good at styling his hair for these appearances, always going for a signature sweepback with a clean side part. A real Christopher Reeve-Superman look. It was how Prince James was supposed to look - neat and tidy and perfect. It never felt like who he was at Hogwarts though, where he had been free to be simply James Potter.

But all that was ending. James Potter didn’t exist anymore. Today, he would step out into the Great Hall and James Potter would vanish into thin air, his privacy and his personal identity gone. It was time to assume his public face and his duties as the heir to the throne.

For all that James had told Lily that he wouldn’t change after graduation, how could he not? Sure, fundamentally he might be the same… he’d stil like the same foods and yell at Quidditch players more than he ought to during matches and he’d always love Lily. But at the same time, he would have different responsibilities and pressures every day. Instead of homework and Prefect duties it would be patronages and state visits. Diplomacy and politics and staying out of all of it while still leading the country through it. And on top of all of it, there was the war. Who would he become to deal with all of that? He didn’t know, and it terrified him.

“C’mon Your Highness,” Sirius mocked, tying his own bowtie. “You don’t want to be late for your own graduation. What on earth would people think then?”

“Maybe that I’m bloody human,” James snapped, snatching his black robe off his bed.

“Grumpy today, are we?” Sirius pushed, swatting James’ hands aside and straightening his bowtie for him.

“I just hate that everything has to change now,” James huffed. “I hate putting you all through this, and Lily. All of you are going to be under so much scrutiny now.”

“Well, lucky thing your friend is devilishly handsome then,” Sirius laughed, shrugging off James’ concerns like it was water rolling down his back.

“We all knew what we were getting into,” Remus interrupted, stepping out of the bathroom. “If any of this bothered us, we could’ve walked away a long time ago. We’re with you, we don’t mind.”

“Remus, especially for you… people will find out eventually…” James groaned, dragging his hands across his face.

“It’s okay, it was never going to stay secret outside of Hogwarts anyway,” Remus shrugged, the worry in his eyes the only betrayal of the true weight of his feelings. “It’s a lot more conspicuous when you don’t have eight teachers covering for you every month.”

“Remus is right,” Peter said quietly. “We all chose to stand by your side. You aren’t forcing any of us into anything.”

James nodded reluctantly, trying to resist the urge to run his hands through his hair even as his fingers twitched.

“Let’s go, or we really will be late,” Remus said.

The four boys nodded together and grabbed their robes, setting off through the Common Room and leaving Gryffindor Tower for the last time. They walked through the quiet halls, stopping at the Transfiguration classroom, where all the graduating Gryffindors were gathered. Professor McGonagall sat at her desk, pointedly ignoring the chattering students, not caring what they did as they waited as long as they weren’t disruptive.

It wasn’t unusual for everyone to look the same, since they had, after all, all worn the same uniform every day. But for some reason it seemed more odd today. The boys all had black pants and white shirts, with red bowties and thin red cummerbunds under their black graduation robes. The girls looked similar in black skirts with red waistbands and white dress shirts. They all held hoods in their hand that had different colored linings indicating their primary course of study. Lily’s was green, for Healing, James’ was purple for Law. Sirius had a red hood for Defense, while Remus had a blue hood for Academia and Peter had orange for Governance. James looked at the rainbow around the room, picking out the rest of his friends. Marlene wore red like Sirius, Dorcas had orange, and Mary had a double striped hood - white for Arts and green for Healing. She was one of only two students who had been allowed to do a double course.

Lily smiled at James when she saw him, and the four boys went over to join their friends. James reached out for Lily’s hand, lacing his fingers together with hers and squeezing tightly. He knew she must be as anxious as he was for the day. But she only smiled and chatted happily with their friends, hiding her nerves well.

Marlene did a double-take as James joined them, her eyes scanning over his face critically.

“It really is you,” she said, and James tried to shrug nonchalantly in response.

The minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly until finally Professor McGonagall stood from her desk, and the room immediately fell silent, fifteen pairs of eyes focused on her.

“Please line up alphabetically by last name,” she said, fixing them all with a stern look. “I trust you don’t need my assistance with that.”

There was a brief pause before they all scurried into motion, hurrying to find their spots. It didn’t take them long to get in order, especially with Professor McGonagall watching them with a stern expression. But she seemed to soften as they waited to leave.

“Before we join the other houses and make our way to the Great Hall for the ceremony, I want to tell you all what a pleasure it has been to have you in my house.” She seemed to get emotional, her eyes glistening slightly. “You are an exceptional group of young men and women, and I look forward to seeing the many wonderful things that you will accomplish in the years to come.”

“I knew you liked us!” Sirius shouted triumphantly, and the rest of the Gryffindors burst into peals of laughter.

“And despite a lovely seven years together, I greet your departure with joy - especially you, Mr. Black - and wish you the best of luck moving forward,” she replied, but the smile playing at the corner of her lips was enough to tell them all that she was teasing them. Perhaps she wouldn’t go so far as to say that she would miss them, but there was not a student in the bunch that did not fill her with a warm sense of affection and pride. They had come a long way. “Right, time to move. Follow me.”

With that, she swept from the room, the line of Gryffindors following behind her. Professor Flitwick was leading the line of Ravenclaws through the halls as well, and they all shared excited and nervous smiles with each other. Professor Sprout and Professor Slughorn arrived at the Entrance Hall with the lines of graduating Hufflepuffs and Slytherins at the same time, and they all stepped into their formation.

Music trumpeted through the Great Hall as the oak doors swung open, and a whirlpool of excitement and anticipation bubbled in James’ stomach as they all marched through together. The tables had been removed, replaced with rows upon rows of wooden chairs, each occupied by a family member. Four rows had been left empty at the front for the graduating students, and they all filed in stoically. An opera box had been added to the right, set back into the wall so that it was cleverly concealed from those sitting further back. The King and Queen sat there, looking as regal as ever in their crimson and gold robes. James wondered how such a box had even been made, but he supposed the answer was simply ‘magic’.

The music seamlessly transitioned into a fanfare, and the entire crowd stood, a hundred voices joining in a chorus of God Save the Queen. When it finished, everyone resumed their seats, and Dumbledore stepped forward to initiate the ceremony.

“It is with great joy that I am able to open this graduation. These students have completed a very challenging array of coursework, and many of them have done so while pursuing a myriad of wonderful extracurricular activities. We are all very proud of the feat that they have accomplished, and feel that each deserves immense recognition.”

Black silk banners streamed out from the tops of the windows, darkening the room.

“We must first take a moment to remember and acknowledge Davey Gudgeon, who would have been graduating today if he had not departed this world prematurely. His loss has been felt severely by many of our students, and he will always be remembered as the truly exceptional student that he was.”

Professor Dumbledore bowed his head, and everyone in the Great Hall echoed his movement. The room was silent as those that knew Davey reflected on his friendship. After a minute, Dumbledore raised his head again, and the banners covering the window rolled themselves up and then vanished with a snap .

“Now, for a more celebratory mood!” His voice had taken on a much more jovial tune, the smile reappearing on his face.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward, conjuring a scroll and unspooling it as she began to read in a booming voice.

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia praesento vobis haec viros quam scio tam moribus quam doctrina esse idoneum ad gradum assequendum Academia; idque tibi fide mea praesto totique Academiae.”

All of the students who had followed the academic course stood, their blue hoods blended together like a bright summer sky.

“I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Academia,” Professor McGonagall said, in English this time, the formality of her demeanor never wavering for a second. She read through each student’s name and, and one at a time they stepped forward to become graduates.

“Remus John Lupin,” she announced, and James straightened up, watching as his friend moved forward and knelt before the Headmaster, his head bowed reverently.

“Auctoritate mihi commissa admitto te ad gradum Academia, in nomine Ministerium, Hogwarts, et Godric Gryffindor,” Dumbledore said, as his hands closed around Remus’.

Remus arose and turned around with a grin spreading from ear to ear as he returned to his seat. Once all the students from the Academic course had their degrees conferred upon them, Professor McGonagall began again.

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia praesento vobis haec viros quam scio tam moribus quam doctrina esse idoneum ad gradum assequendum Artium; idque tibi fide mea praesto totique Academiae. I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Arts.”

There were only three students who stood, wearing the white hoods, the contrast against their black robes looking rather like an old-timey photograph.

“Benjamin Daniel Fenwick,” Professor McGonagall called, and Benjy stepped forward, kneeling in front of Professor Dumbledore to be granted his degree in the name of the Ministry, Hogwarts, and Godric Gryffindor.

“Mary Charlotte MacDonald,” McGonagall called next, and Mary floated forward, smiling sweetly.

As Mary knelt, she listened to Dumbledore’s words like they were breathing new life into her, as if they could transform her in some tangible way, rather than just being stuffy words dictated by a centuries-old ceremony.

“Sybill Cassandra Trelawney,” was called forward next, nearly knocking Mary over in her haste to make her way to the dais.

She blinked her large, buglike eyes at Professor Dumbledore and clung to his hands as he recited the words, “...in nomine Ministerium, Hogwarts, et Rowena Ravenclaw.”

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia praesento vobis haec viros quam scio tam moribus quam doctrina esse idoneum ad gradum assequendum Curatio,” Professor McGonagall began again, calling forth the second largest course, “idque tibi fide mea praesto totique Academiae. I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Healing. Lily Jane Evans.”

James felt pride swell within him as he watched Lily move forward and kneel before Dumbledore. She bowed her head and locks of red hair fell forward over her shoulder, obscuring her face, but it didn’t matter. James knew that her expression was solemn and her eyes were probably closed as Dumbledore clasped her hands and recited the words.

“Auctoritate mihi commissa admitto te ad gradum Curatio, in nomine Ministerium, Hogwarts, et Godric Gryffindor.”

Lily stood, beaming, looking as proud as James felt of her. She had worked so hard, especially during the past year, and had excelled in all her courses. He felt a pang of regret that her degree would be for nought soon enough, forced to sit and collect dust when she became the diplomat and cultural representative that the Royal Family required. If she agreed, that was.

Mary was called forth again, as solemn the second time as she had been the first. Alice Elizabeth Matthews was next, the petite Hufflepuff nearly bouncing as she approached the Headmaster. Fabian Alphaeus Prewett followed her, and then Severus Tobias Snape. James had to resist the urge to hiss audibly as his nemesis stepped forward to receive his degree, but he reminded himself that no matter how much he despised the greasy bastard, Lily would not tolerate any hijinks from him. But it was a good thing that his wand was in his trunk anyway. Emma Grace Vanity was the last to step forward from the Healing course, ending what felt like a very long slew of students after the brevity of the previous two groups.

They were halfway through, and James could feel all kinds of emotions bubbling inside of him. He was excited for his turn to come, and nervous about what it would mean. He was bored by the ceremonial nature of all of this and impatient to get through it all, and yet he felt a thrill and a surge of pride every time one of his friends was officially declared a graduate.

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia praesento vobis haec viros quam scio tam moribus quam doctrina esse idoneum ad gradum assequendum Jurisdictio; idque tibi fide mea praesto totique Academiae,” Professor McGonagall recited.

James stood along with the rest of the students in his course. He vaguely wondered if he was shaking from all the nervous energy coursing through his veins.

“I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Law.”

And so it began.

“Amelia Margaret Edith Bones,” Professor McGonagall called, once the entire group had vacated their seats and stepped into the aisle along the outer wall.

And then, in no time at all, there were no students standing in front of him.

“James Eideard Aneirin, Prince of Scotland,” Professor McGonagall called out in her commanding voice.

The Great Hall suddenly felt so silent that a pin could drop and simultaneously buzzing with shocked whispers. He felt paralyzed, unable to move forward, or move anywhere, move any part of his body at all. I told you so! he heard someone exclaim, and he felt his heart pound in his chest, beating against his ribcage like a captive phoenix trying to break free. Somewhere in his mind, James could hear the photographer hired for the graduation go crazy, the shutter clicking at warp speed. She probably saw what an opportunity she had - she would be the only photographer anywhere to have pictures of the Prince’s graduation. James felt his breathing quicken, sucking in shallow breaths, and he wondered if he was having a panic attack. It had happened in the blink of an eye, his whole world had shifted, and he felt like he had lost his footing. How was he not more prepared for this?

James’ eyes found Lily, sitting amongst the other Gryffindor students, and he tried to block out everything else, everything but her. Her green eyes focused on him, and she gave him an encouraging smile. It was all he needed. James stepped forward, walking across the empty space to the foot of the dais, where the Headmaster waited with a small smile. James knelt before him, extending his hands in a praying formation, and Dumbledore wrapped his own hands around them. James maintained eye contact, staring back into Professor Dumbledore’s icy blue gaze as he recited the words that were meant to change his life.

“Auctoritate mihi commissa admitto te ad gradum Curatio, in nomine Ministerium, Hogwarts, et Godric Gryffindor.”

Dumbledore gave him a small nod, and James stood, returning to his seat with his head held high. He had done it, finished school, earned his degree. There had been days that he doubted that he would make it, when his grades suffered from either his own shenanigans or forced absences due to his duties that set him behind. But he had the words resounding in his mind, combined with Professor Dumbledore’s proud expression, to remind him of his accomplishment.

He failed to pay attention to the rest of the students in his course, entirely in his own world as Emmeline Laurel Vance, Adrian Lee Wells, and Corban Aleris Fenton Yaxley were called forward to receive their degrees. It didn’t bother him too much though, he wasn’t particularly close to any of them. He liked Adrian and Emmeline well enough, and he was jealous that they would both be enrolling in the Auror training program. But the idea of Corban Yaxley getting a degree in Law , when he was hell-bent on seeing Voldemort take control of the entire wizarding world… it would be laughable if it weren’t so disgusting.

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia praesento…”

The words sounded like a far off echo to James, and he had little interest in forcing his mind to return to the ceremony. The world of his thoughts was far more interesting.

“I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Governance.”

Those words finally brought James back to attention, his focus drifting slowly back to the events around him as he recognized that two of his friends were about to step forward. He waited impatiently as Reginald Alexander Cattermole and Mafalda Arias Hopkirk stepped forward first. Then Professor McGonagall called Dorcas Diane Meadowes forward and James straightened up a little bit to watch more closely. He could practically hear Lily grinning from ear to ear, and he knew she was applauding a little more enthusiastically as Dorcas returned to her seat, newly declared a graduate. Caius Lycaon Tryphonus Nott was next, and James had to try very hard not to heckle him as he received his degree.

“Peter Ian Pettigrew,” Professor McGonagall, and James felt like bursting with excitement. Of all his friends, Peter seemed to understand his academic reservations the most. Remus had always been scholarly, and very gifted, and he enjoyed studying and schoolwork more than anyone James had ever met before. Sirius was the opposite, lazy and laidback when it game to academics, and yet he was so naturally gifted that he didn’t need to put in any work to do respectably well. James and Peter had struggled a bit more, finding a kinship in their trials and tribulations.

“Auctoritate mihi commissa admitto te ad gradum Magisterium,” Professor Dumbledore announced, a particularly pleased smile on his face, “in nomine Ministerium, Hogwarts, et Godric Gryffindor.”

Peter stood, pride emanating from him like a radiant glow, and James led the entire crowd in a round of applause that would have made anyone think Peter had just been elected to be the Minister.

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia,” Professor McGonagall began again, announcing the final course, “praesento vobis haec viros quam scio tam moribus quam doctrina esse idoneum ad gradum assequendum Praesidium; idque tibi fide mea praesto totique Academiae. I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Defense.”

The largest block of students stood, a group that radiated pride and determination. Every one of these students knew they were about to head into a war, not all of them on the same side, and they stood like soldiers ready for battle.

Bertram Conrad Aubrey was the first to step forward. Large, with thick, banded muscles, Bertram looked every bit a soldier, and he seemed imbued with a certainty that James wished he possessed.

“Sirius Orion Phinneas Black,” Professor McGonagall called, and James struggled to keep from wolf whistling. He was proud of Sirius too, he was proud of all his friends.

After having his degree conferred, Sirius turned back toward the waiting guests and flashed the most self-assured and charming smile that had ever been seen. It was no wonder half the girls in Hogwarts were in love with him. For good measure, he looked toward Marlene where she was waiting her turn and gave her a salacious wink that was not missed by anybody.

Antonin Aleksi Dolohov was next, and once more James had to suppress the hiss that rose inside him. It was well known that Dolohov had only gone with the Defense course because he felt that knowing all about defense made for the best offense.

Frank Christopher James Longbottom was called forward next, redeeming the program a bit. Frank was everything Dolohov was not. A pinnacle of light and goodness and honor. He came from an old family, not quite in the highest social class, but still James had known Frank since they were young. It made him happy to see Frank defending the people, he was real hero caliber.

After Frank, Professor McGonagall called forward Marlene Pilar McKinnon, and this time James could tell Lily was straining not to whoop with joy. The only word that James could ever think to describe Marlene was bad-ass, and graduation was no exception. She had brought her own flair to the dress code with black heels that were studded with tiny silver spikes and a set matching spiked earrings. Confidence wafted from her in waves as she strode up to the dais and knelt to receive her degree. When the conferral had been completed, she strutted back to her seat with purpose, ponytail swinging as she flashed Sirius a sinful smile.

Gideon Matteus Prewett was announced next, another credit to the program and to Gryffindor, and James looked forward to seeing the leader he was sure to become. Evan Mark Rosier stepped forward next, another Dolohov, and James rolled his eyes. The ceremony finished with Clara Jane Williams, who was a relatively positive note to end on. She gave Remus as shy smile as she returned to her seat, and James wondered - not for the first time - if there was more between them than they let on.

“It gives me great pleasure to present to all the family and friends here today the newest graduates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” Professor Dumbledore declared, and shouts of joy erupted from students and guests alike. “Please join us for a reception out on the grounds of the castle before your departure. And may I offer a friendly reminder that the Hogwarts Express will depart from Hogsmeade Station promptly at 6pm for all those who wish to take it. Otherwise, allow me to remind you that apparition, Floo powder, and departure by broomstick are all prohibited until you are off castle grounds. Thank you very much, and congratulations to all of our graduates and their supporters!”

The graduates filed out of the Great Hall first, not in any kind of procession, but more of a semi-organized press of people. As each of them walked through the ornate doors of the castle to the sloping lawn, a curled diploma appeared in their hands, tied with a ribbon in the colour of their course and bound with the wax seal of their house. James stared at his in amazement as Sirius and Peter chattered excitedly, enjoying the tangible evidence of his accomplishment. Lily slipped her hand into James’, startling him slightly, but he smiled when he saw her standing next to him.

“Congratulations, Miss Evans,” Queen Euphemia said, approaching the young couple. “We’re very proud of both of you.”

“Thanks, Mum,” James beamed, exchanging gleeful looks with Lily.

“I suppose you’ve made your choice then?” the Queen said to Lily, while King Fleamont gave them a curious look, completely oblivious to the conversation that had happened months earlier.

“Yeah, I have,” Lily answered, snuggling closer to James and looking up at him with such adoration.

If James and Lily heard the sound of snapping camera shutters following through the reception, they showed no sign of it. They were far too engrossed in the joy and excitement of the day. Not to mention, it was their very last day all together with their friends. Before long, they would be moving in different directions, pursuing a variety of careers and initiatives in all different places. They were all acutely aware that there was no guarantee that they would all be together like this again any time soon.

After the reception, students and families began to say their goodbyes, departing for the Hogwarts Express. James and Lily stayed the longest with their families, enjoying the relative privacy as twilight fell on the castle. It was less awkward having their families together here, in this somewhat neutral setting. Even though they were still decked out in their finery, they seemed less imposing away from the ornate halls of Whitefire Palace. And perhaps things always got easier between families as time progressed. Whatever the reason, Lily and James were both pleased to see their families melding together so well.

o . o . o

Lily was sharing a shitty flat in London with Mary, Alice, and Fabian. They were all starting the training course at St. Mungo’s, which only paid a very small stipend, and sharing a small apartment had been the only thing they could do. Lily knew that doing the course was a bit pointless, since she’d have to give it up when she married James, but she couldn’t very well just sit around and wait for a proposal.

They had a week to set up their flat and celebrate their graduation before they had to start their course. Lily took the first three days to visit with her family. She had missed them so much, realized, and she wished she could’ve gotten the whole summer to spend with them. But at least London was much closer to home, and she could apparate there in a pinch if she wanted to.

Her parents surprised her by announcing that they were getting a new couch for the sitting room, and gifting her the old one for her apartment. James insisted on getting her a proper bed (“Hey, I’ve got to sleep on this thing too!”) despite her protestations. Alice’s parents were a bit more upper class, and she was an only child, she they’d been happy to get a few things for them - mostly kitchenware, but a dining table and a little tv as well. Everything else they’d gotten second-hand as cheap as they could find, with the result being that their apartment looked like the most hideously mismatched collection of 50s decor imaginable. But it was home, at least none of them cared if some butterbeer spilled on the sofa.

Sirius came over for dinner one evening, and by the end of the night, he and Mary had gone their separate ways, just as she’d predicted. Mary didn’t seem all that cut up about it, and Lily wondered if it didn’t have something to do with Fabian. He’d become very snuggly with her, always seeking contact with his toes or his shoulder or his forehead whenever they sat down to watch the little tv. Not to mention he’d developed a habit of “forgetting” his clothes in his bedroom whenever he took a shower. Lily privately thought that it wouldn’t be too long before those two were sharing one room.

James was living in the Palace, his schedule jam packed with events and outings and meetings. He wanted the Royal Family to be more active, and to play a bigger part in the governing of the country, the way it had centuries before. People responded well to him, and he was a natural at all of it. Sometimes Lily thought it was a shame that he couldn’t get involved in politics, because he was a great diplomat. Most weekends, he stayed with her in the little flat, as long as he didn’t have an event in the morning, but occasionally she went to the Palace. The almost never went out though, since that inevitably ended up with them being photographed.

All in all, life after graduation seemed pretty good. They were all busy, and Lily felt exhausted all the time, but it was in a good way, and she felt as though she’d accomplished something at the end of every day. And yet there was a constant feeling that just as they began to settle into this new life, everything would change.

12 for your hunters

Prompt: Who hurt you? 

I decided to write from the perspective of Rat King Cora for this one! This is going to be part 1 of a 3 for a series examining Rattul’s character arc and her relationship with Cora. Enjoy!

Nothing was supposed to come of it. It had been many moons since we had taken over this land, and only a few less since I had been split from our host and granted my own life and space to rule in the kingdom. I remembered being in the throne room for the first time, a vibrating cluster not yet fully formed, standing side by side with brothers and sisters who were all reminded of the same thing.

This gift, it could be stripped away at anytime.

Once a day had passed and the multitude of bodies had merged into one solid beast, we were assigned a zone and told a list of instructions, and sent on our way. We were only to return for reports or in cases when the Emperor requested our council, and even then, we would return as a group, and not alone.

Perhaps that was the Emperor’s first mistake.

When I was summoned to the castle, the letter outlining that my presence was for a private meeting and this was explicitly not a council meeting, I had to admit to myself that I felt something. Like an invisible hand was brushing up my back, bristling my fur as my claws tried not to crumple the summons in my hands. We had never been told about something like this, but it had been implied.

I had my servants dress me in my finest robe but pick out my simplest crown. There was protocol for entering the castle, and we all knew that even with our status, it would be an insult if we tried to look better than the Emperor. Either way, humbling myself probably wouldn’t save me, but it might make my end swift and painless.

When I was brought to the capital and guided inside the Emperor’s private chamber, you could imagine the thoughts that were swirling through my head. He had always been a showy, brazen rat, and I had entertained the various public ways of turning me into a demonstration for the public, but perhaps he didn’t want his reputation tarnished too much. I passed through a solid, gold, glossy door into a dark green room same thing here decorated in styles stolen from Arabia, some incense floating about as the Emperor sat on his canopy bed, a long smoking pipe wafting in the air with sweet scent of the cheese.

Luckily for me, instead of my demise, me waited for the door to lock before launching into a discussion of an important assignment. There was a marine biology lab to the east of the city, built into an old dock that had since become run-down and decrepit from the funding that was lost when the government was overthrown and it being a hot-spot for gang crime. Apparently, there were still scientists there, and the Emperor wanted to launch an investigation into whether other creatures could become like us.

“This is confidential, you understand? I’m entrusting you to this because you were the first of those who split from me. You are the most like me, so I know you won’t cross me. Well, none of you would, but I know you would never.”

Perhaps I would’ve been elated at my life being spared if it weren’t for those words. I finished up the meeting and promptly went to the docks, seeing no real need for negotiation as the Emperor owned everything. The place was disgusting, even for somewhere in Rat City, and I figured once the scientists inside saw me they would comply or else I would present my more monstrous form. What I was not prepared for, was for a short woman with a wispy brown bob and piercing light eyes to throw her hand in front of me and demand I leave.

“You’re trespassing,” was all she said, one hand inside the pocket of her white lab coat as at least ten other male scientists cowered behind her. Frustrated, I decided to whip out my snarling teeth and hunch my back, hovering over her as I dripped saliva and let my eyes turn black.

“You will listen to us or we will tear you limb from limb.”

She didn’t seem fazed, “I’ve dealt with plenty of your kind before, I’m not afraid to do it again. Now, close your mouth.”

I blinked back to normal as she bopped me in the nose with her palm, causing my maw to snap shut before she shoved both hands into the pockets and stared up at me, “Now, are you able to discuss with us like a good boy or am I going to have to throw you out?”

The human had me return with a sack of gold to compensate her facility for the research. There had always been an unspoken understanding between the Emperor and the rest of us and that our presence alone would be enough to get the humans to comply, and if not, we could use force. Trading a bundle of coin that resembled the hue of cheese but had no taste seemed foolish and beneath what we were capable of, but the human wouldn’t budge without it and I feared what the Emperor would have done if I had returned with news that I had sat at a crummy negotiation table for hours and still had no solution instead of just bulldozing the woman.

I was given a writ that she signed granting me permission into the lab for checks whenever I wanted to, and promised that she would keep me updated on the progress. I left with less pointless symbols of wealth and an odd feeling coming from my center that left me a bit dizzy and confused as I stumbled into my rickshaw and had my servants carry me home.

I had been bamboozled.

A week later, I dropped in after one of their scientists came to my castle with shaky knees and a report for me to read. I had snatched the paper out of the tiny man’s hands and ignored the yelp from the scratch I had caused before I read over it hastily. Frustrated and insulted at the strange language and symbols on the page, I went over to the docks and burst inside, demanding an explanation.

“Calm down,” was all the woman said, never taking her eyes off the tank full of floating squid as she jotted something down, “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“You will answer us this instant!”

“I said, in a minute. I’m taking notes on the progress of the experiments you requested. Be patient.”

I became aggravated, and reached towards her throat, “I said this insta-”

She threw up a hand grabbed ahold of my wrist, easily avoiding being scratched by any part of my claws. Her eyes were narrowed, a dead, annoyed half-lidded look in them as her clipboard shifted and clanged against the glass of the tank. Three of her fingers were coiled in my matted fur, but her pointed and thumb were still curved round the pen she had been using moments before.

“I will explain everything to you if you give me a moment. I just need to take some more notes on these guys. Now, you can either sit over there,” she gestured with her head to a round table with two plastic chairs, “or you can leave, and I will send someone else over to give you another report, and you can continue going blissfully unaware of what we are doing. Those are your choices.”

She slowly let go of me, and touch lingering for a moment, and then went back to writing. Her reflection in the glass never showed her eyes glancing over to me, she was completely focused on the fleshy, slimy white sea creatures mingling about inside the water. After a minute of deliberation, I stomped over to the table and slammed down into the plastic chair, crossing my arms and glaring at the back of her head as I waited. It didn’t last though, because my weight was too much, and the chair shattered and sent my tumbling to the hard concrete ground unceremoniously. Too stunned, I rolled a bit on the ground in the pile of broken plastic and metal, embarrassment creeping up my neck.

I always missed her back hunching over and shaking, her face hidden from afar but her laughter ringing out clearly through the walls of the lab even as she tried to stifle it.

The human was more than happy to explain things to me once she was done with her “notes”. They had caught several different types of sea life known for their intelligence and were beginning to experiment with their reaction to different environmental changes in combination with the medicine that was thought to cause the initial mutations in the first two rats, Ratam and Reve. She had sent some of her colleagues over to the library to find newspapers and journalism that would have the published research so they could use it to speed up their research.

“So, once we get them to lay some eggs, we’ll be able to manipulate the genes a bit more and then we’ll go from there.”

“Will they be like us then?”

She laughed, “Probably not that soon. Experiments like this can take upwards of three years.”

I grumbled, “We need it done faster. We will not be happy about this.”

“Who’s we?”

I blinked at her, confused.

“You don’t know who we are?”

“You never told me your name,” she said matter of factly. I should have been offended on the Emperor’s behalf, but I couldn’t find it in myself to launch into another tirade. She had made me a cup of tea and was just blowing across the steam from her own, eyes flicking up to me as they waited for me to answer.

“Oh, well, it’s Cora,” I drummed my claws on the table, but at the loud ticking sound, I shoved them into my lap, “Rat King Cora.”

“That’s quite the title,” she hummed, “but a bit too long for my tastes.”

“Well,” I scoffed, “what’s your name then?”

“Rattul. Just Rattul.”

“Don’t humans usually have middle and last names too?”

“Dr. Rattul, if you must. But just Rattul will do. Now, if you don’t drink your tea, it will go to waste.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

I left the lab that day before a long rain shower began, and I felt that same cloudy, confusing feeling take over me. I didn’t know why, but I would return to my castle and enter a cycle of anxiously awaiting the next report to come, so I could storm over and complain about her needing to explain things to me again. Technically, the writ did say I could visit whenever, but, as much as I hated to admit it to myself, I didn’t have the confidence to do that just yet. Even as she began writing the reports in much easier terms that I could comprehend, it was easier for me to just pretend I still didn’t so I could use that as my excuse to drop by.

Furthermore, all of her reports got forwarded to the Emperor, so there were some occasions when I needed to stop by the capital and summarize her findings to him. While Rattul was conducting research on whether squids and other life could become sentient like us or not, the desired result the Emperor hoped to see was an overwhelming “no”. No matter how many tests it took, he wanted to be certain that there would be no competition for the rats now that they had overtaken humans. As rodents, we were one of the most intelligent creatures, but cephalopods and things in the sea that we had not interacted with before posed a different kind of threat if they could become like us.

In the chance that Rattul discovered and inadvertently created the first group of sentient marine life, like the scientists did a few years ago for us, not only would we have to begin a new operation to invest more time and resources into designing a way to prevent anymore from developing, I had to wonder if Rattul would be punished for what she had wrought.

“I received a letter from the Emperor, by the way.”

I almost tripped over one of the wires leading out of the tanks around the facility, “What?”

“The Emperor? Ratmilian? He wants me to bring a collection of my findings next month straight to the capital.”

“That can’t be right,” I stopped and began to shake, “That’s wrong.”

“I can show you the letter. One of my scientists almost got eaten alive by the messenger who didn’t like the way he opened the door,” she kept walking along the tanks, reaching to grab the red railing of a metal staircase that led to a catwalk that ran overhead the entire facility.

“No, no, no. You don’t understand. That can’t be right.”

She walked along the roof of three tanks, her clipboard and coat bathed in the blue light, “Well, it is. I don’t know why you’re so shaken up about this.”

“It can’t be right because he didn’t tell us!” I shouted, clutching at my ears and beginning to scratch, “He always tells us! He can’t not tell us!”

My nails cut through the fur and sliced into the skin, beginning to draw blood as I scratched and scratched in frustration, my crown knocking off my head. Through the liquid pain now beading from my skull, I could hear metal tinging in rapid succession before footsteps raced towards me. Something patted at my snout, and then soft hands came up and coiled around my wrists again, pulling them away.

Rattul was looking at me, a mixture of awe and concern washing over her face, flooding it with more expression than I had ever seen her wear before. Her mouth was open slightly so I could see the slight gap in her front teeth, her eyes were wide and framed by a furrowed brow as she stared up at me, darting around to see all the damage I had done to myself within a few seconds.

“Hey, hey,” her voice hushed, “Why are you getting so worked up? Here, come with me.”

She tugged on my arm, but I didn’t budge right away. My head was bowed and trained on the ground, and I felt null and devoid of anything. I had shut down. There were so many questions running through my head moments ago and now I was just flatlining, everything having slammed up against a brick wall and dropping dead for me to just look at.

Why did the Emperor want Rattul? Was there something in her reports he didn’t like? Did he want to shut down the experiments? Did he have a problem with me visiting? Did he know something about how I-

I flinched as her hands came up to pet my ears, pressing them down flat before she smoothed out the fur again, “Ugh, even for a king, you’re really dirty. There’s a bath in the back, let’s get you washed up and then we can bandage you. I don’t want you to be getting hurt around here though, so it might be best for you to go home after, okay?”

I nodded meekly, and let her pull my along, guiding me carefully over tubes and wires to a hallway with a back room where Rattul and the other scientists slept. She took my red cloak and set it beside my crown, which she had picked up while we walked, on the counter and then coaxed me into the shower. I don’t remember much of what she did after the spray of cold hit my face, but my skin does still recall the water slowly turning warm the moment her hands ran along my back with foaming soap bubbling between her fingers.

She dried me off with a blow dryer and patted me with a big blanket, as towels were too small for my form, and then she taped up the gashes on my temples.

“Listen, I don’t really know the protocol for this, but if you would like to accompany me to the capital, I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” she said, sitting on the counter after she had cleaned me up, “I know I act indifferent, but even I’m a little nervous about seeing the Emperor of all people.”

“You’re afraid of him but you weren’t of me?”

“How could I be afraid of someone like you?” She chuckled, gesturing, “You were just a fat, muddy rat pretending to be someone rich. The Emperor… well, you know how the anthem goes- he’s the giant rat who makes all the rules! It’s different, you know?”

I stared down at the floor, fiddling with my claws for a moment before I stood up, the blanket falling off my shoulders onto the floor, “I should really be going, if you will excuse me.”

“Wait! One question, so it’s me now?”

I paused in the doorway, “What?”

“Just now, you said ‘me’, and before you said ‘I’. I’m so used to you saying ‘we’ and ‘us’,” she hopped off the counter but leaned on it with one hand, “What happened to this ‘we’?”

A horrible revelation dawned on me, and I tried my best to keep my claws at my sides and not to show any stress, “I’m sorry, we need to go now.”

As I sprinted out of the facility, I did not miss the way her expression melted into a frown, a sigh leaving her lips. I ran back by the tanks towards the exit, passing the red metal mesh that her clipboard had been abandoned on. Before I made it to the door, I saw something flash from within one of the glass walls.

Floating, surrounded by squid, Rattul’s pen had fallen in.

“And so, that is my report,” Rattul finished, folding her arms behind her back as she stared straight ahead, eyes pretending to lock onto the Emperor who was seated on his throne, leaning on his arm as he listened for over an hour to a recounting of all of her progress.

“So, what you’re saying is you haven’t made any progress really, is that right?”

I stiffened off to the side. Despite the two of us parting on awkward terms last time, I had received my own summons to the castle for “separate business”, but as I was in charge of overseeing the operation, I was allowed to sit in on the meeting between the scientists and the Emperor.

“With all due respect, Emperor Ratmilian, I was under the impression from Rat King Cora that there would be no time limit on my research. We’ve already had the first group of eggs hatch, but like I said, the squids were contaminated by a foreign substance. So now, we’re working with only the octopi and salmon.”

“What was this foreign substance? You keep describing it vaguely. Just spit it out already.”

Rattul sighed and shut her eyes, “It was a pen. A simple writing utensil that got inside the tank. We extracted it, but the squids had already managed to unscrew it and unleash the purified ink into the container, so we don’t quite know what’s going on in there. It would be unwise to continue to do tests on something with so many unknown factors.”

“How did you manage to drop a pen in there? One of my own is paying you to conduct this research, we expected you to be extremely cautious.”

For a moment, Rattul’s eyes flickered to me, and I thought that perhaps she was going to sell me out, say something about how she dropped it when I began to act erratic, how it was my fault and that I was the one that caused the experiments to come to a grinding halt. But, instead:

“The platforms above the tanks are damp because of the condensation. I slipped and almost fell, which is why the pen fell in. I think you would agree it is better we only lost a tank, and not the leading biologist on this project, no?”

The Emperor didn’t take kindly to her words. Sitting up on his throne, he leaned forward with a frown on his face, his beady black eyes ablaze with such anger I had never seen before. I felt adrenaline in me, tempting me to jump in if he lunged or called his guards to attack her, but I was frozen to the side of the room beside the marble column I had been waiting next to since I was dismissed.

“I can get any biologist to take over for you, do not feel so high and mighty, puny human. In an instant, I could have you swallowed whole or ripped limb from limb or thrown into the dungeons of one of my men to rot for all of time. These degrees, mere sheets of paper with ink on them that you humans deem worthy of your intelligence means nothing to a being like me, who was born and manifested into greatness and wholeness from simply existing. The universe chose me, but it did not chose you. I will let you go this time, but if you come back to me with no definitive answer again, I will not be merciful this time.”

Rattul merely stared dead eyed at him and then with a wave of her hand, did an over exaggerated bow, before backing out of the room. Once she had disappeared behind the heavy stone doors, the Emperor turned to me.

“Cora, please come forward.”

I crossed over the threshold of the marble, mosaic tile to the red carpet, turning and walking up to my Emperor with as much grace as I could muster, even as my anxiety continued to send me internally into fits of panic. Rattul had put him in a bad mood, there was no way I was going to be treated nicely today.

“Now, Cora, while I am displeased with the progress of this whole… endeavor, I have a different matter I would like to discuss with you. To cut to the chase, because I have other things I must attend to afterwards, I wanted to make sure you still remembered who you were.”

My brain short-circuited again, “Excuse me?”

“I’ve received a few concerned notices from some of the servants in your castle. They’ve been saying you’ve been acting differently ever since I gave you this assignment. Furthermore, your language just now confirms some of their suspicions. Cora… When have we ever used ‘me’?”

I froze, “I’m sorry, Emperor, I-”

“‘I, I, I,’ these are not words I like to hear, Cora, from you at least.”

“We’re sorry, Emperor, we have just been-”

“Have you lost your mind?” He suddenly screamed at me, jumping off of his throne, the millions of rats making up his shape began to wriggle as the impact jostled his imposing form, “Have you forgotten all that you knew when you were born from me? There is no ‘I’, there is no ‘you’, there is no ‘we’ unless I am included! I am the only one of you lot that can say such things, because I am the only one who the universe awoke, and I was the one who granted you a piece of me so you could do my bidding! You are nothing! You are nothing without me and you are nothing but a lowly clone in my presence! You can do nothing without me, and you will be nothing without me! Now, what do you have to say for yourself?!”

I responded in a series of squeaks and sad chirps, cowering as he raised his claws towards me. He noticed the bandages on my head, and suddenly rained down a series of blow upon my ears.

“It’s that human, isn’t it? It was a mistake sending you there, it was a mistake thinking I could entrust anyone but myself with my kingdom, my world. Cursed human language, I can’t fault such lesser beings from communicating with such words, but among my subjects, I forbid it. Cora, you will not test me again. You will remember your place, correct?”

“Cora will remember his place. King will remember his place.”

“Good, you measly pawn,” he huffed and fixed the lapels on his jacket, “and just to make sure of it…”

Sharp pain stabbed into me and my whole body began to vibrate violently as the Emperor stuck his hand inside, breaking through the solid wall my settled body had shaped itself into. Suddenly I wasn’t Cora, I was thousands of rats squirming about in a panic as sharp, pointed, broken claws forced past them, moving deeper into my form. With gasping breaths, the Emperor leaned in close to my face and smiled sickly at me, yellow broken teeth and a wild look in his eyes set against his reddish brown fur made me shiver as I went into shock.. Suddenly he wrapped around our center, the rat that was seated in the middle of us and he yanked, the other rats tried to hold in but as he retracted his hand the force in which he ripped the rat out of us sent us stumbling backwards.

“Remember, this, it is a gift. I can easily take it away.”

He eyed the panicked, flailing rat for a moment before he skewered it with a nail. We fell apart, collapsing into a heap on the floor into thousands of scampering panicked rats. The Emperor dropped the body of our center.

“You are still expected to continue your duties like usual. Have fun putting yourself back together again.”

He walked through the curtains behind the throne and out into the hall, leaving us alone to seize and twitch in pain until we could get enough of our bearings to try and piece ourselves back together again. Doors to the throne room opened and closed, people walked in and out, but no one stopped to help us. By the time we had reformed and regained our one, combined vision, the old central rat was gone.

It was Rattul who came to the castle to visit me. Rather than sending one of her underlings, she marched her way in with a report in hand, although I could tell that it was all a guise. We had agreed when we were leaving the capital together to forgo any future reports, as the Emperor seemed he was going to be displeased with anything I sent him. I tried not to think too much about the Emperor as we left, and I hoped that Rattul didn’t notice anything strange about my behavior or appearance. I was surprised she waited for me at all, with how long my “meeting” took.

The doors to my own, dark, stone and concrete throne room were thrown open, and Rattul walked across the ballroom floor to meet me. I almost leapt out of my chair when she appeared, my arms held open, but then I felt the instability of my own form and I pulled away. I probably looked disgusting, she could probably see all the rats bubbling under the skin.

“I came to bring you this,” was what she said, holding out the usual yellow envelope of files that were delivered, “and to ask where you’ve been.”

It wasn’t that I was avoiding her, but Emperor Ratmilian had been keeping a tight hold on all of the other rules since my incident. We had to appear for two cases of humans being arrested by the rat police, both of which fell on my shoulders to house until a suitable punishment could be designed for them. In front of the prisoners, everyone had reverted to our more primal speak of squeaks and screams, as it was better to keep them blind to our plans. The girl wasn’t causing us too much trouble, however, now that the strange looking man had been throw into my dungeon as well, I found myself a bit more nervous at night.

“I had other responsibilities, I am not obligated to visit you. The writ says I can visit whenever I deem it necessary.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“Do not use such coarse language in front of me.”

“If anyone should be lecturing you on language, it shouldn’t be you, or that Emperor guy. Now open the dumb package.”

I stiffened at the Emperor’s name. Rattul crossed her arms and looked away, sniffing loudly through her nose.

“Did you really think I didn’t hear the whole thing? Now open it.”

My claws trembled as I opened the package, undoing the little loop around the button humans loved to use. As I popped the flap open, something came scurrying at me.

It was my center.

“After he did that to you, I walked in and saw it all. I took away this guy and fixed him up before he could die. He’s been doing okay. I don’t know if there will be any issues, but, I’ve been studying how you guys work and exist, so I’m fairly confident my medical treatment didn’t ruin his sentience or whatnot.”

I looked down at the little rat in my hands. I had since gotten a new center, a new rat had moved in to take this one’s place after it had fallen out. Having a weak center was bad, and according to the Emperor, this one had always been weak. I glanced at Rattul, seeing her fidgeting.

“If you don’t want it, that’s fine too. I see you’ve already reformed so-”

“No, Rattul… Thank you. I want to put them back in but… I don’t know how you would react to seeing it.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No, no, not at all. I just don’t know if I’m ready.”

The rat in my hand squeaked up at me excitedly, “Well, he seems ready,” she laughed, “but I can wait. Take your time.”

She sat down on the ground of the ballroom, and I too decided to take a seat. Keeping the rat cupped in my hands, I prepared myself for what was to come. I could try and completely fall apart again and have them fight to rebuild, or I could try and coax the new center to move to its old position. Either way, it would be unpleasant to watch, and unpleasant to feel.

I took a deep breath, “I’m sorry if this upsets you in some way,” was all I said before I shoved the rat towards my chest like a dagger into the heart. Instantly, the shield of me being one giant rat collapsed, and the truth of me being a mass of thousands of rats was revealed once more to the world. My eyes fell away, my ears and head became clusters of wiggly, mutated beasts. Although not as startling and painful as with the Emperor, discomfort rippled across my form as I struggled to push the rat inside.

Even without my giant two eyes, I could see through each of my scurrying parts a different angle, different view of the world like this. But, I didn’t look at Rattul. I didn’t want to see her reaction to me like this. I was just a filthy beast made of disease ridden, lesser intelligent rats that had been given sentience through some miracle by the Emperor. I had no reason to think any thoughts other than the command I was given, I had no reason to be anything but thankful for this grotesque form since it allowed me to breath, see, and live in a higher way than anyone else around here.

The rat wasn’t adhering to the center of my body well, and I was growing frustrated at the longer I was unstable. I didn’t want to look like this, I just wanted the stupid creature to go back in, all the others to move out of the way, and then I could be normal again and at least pretend like nothing ever happened.

“Get in… Get in…” My voice erupted from the illusion as it faded in and out. There was noise from across the room, and I could hear shoes scraping off the floor as Rattul approached me and shoved her hand inside of me.

“Sorry for this, but allow me to try.”

Although she had done it so brazenly, it didn’t hurt at all. Her small hand easily wiggled through my body and slid alongside my own arm, finding the rat she had saved and taking it from me. I retracted my hand weakly as she began to move it around.

“Is there where he goes?”

“Uh, a little bit more to the left.”

“Here?” She glanced up at me with an unreadable expression each time, “Or my left?”

“No, that’s fine, but first you have to-”

“Alright little guys, can you make space for your friend again? I want to see Cora happy again, okay?”

To my surprise, the rats all seemed to nod, and the previously packed space in the center parted to create a small chamber, and Rattul carefully set down the healed rat in the space before she pulled her arm out. The white sleeve of her coat was covered in mangy gray hair.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry about that. I didn’t want you to see that ever.”

“Why?” She folded her hands behind her and cocked her head, “There’s nothing wrong with it, and besides, it could help me with my research.”

“I doubt the first sentient squids would ever take on a disturbing form like this.”

“Why not? Ratmilian is like you too, is he not?”

“He is, but it’s different… His form is mystical, it is beautiful, it is the original so it can never fall apart. I am just…” My heart sank as I began to remember his words to me, “…We are not him…We don’t know how to explain it in human tongue.”

Two hands came up to the sides of my head, brushing over the places where the bandages had once been, now two scars that made the hair patchy and thin, “No, you do. He just won’t let you. You’re your own person, you know that, right?”

My eyes widened, and I raised my head a bit, my giant form pulling her arms a little higher as she had to reach up on her toes to stay holding my head, “No, I’m not…. You heard what Ratmilian told me? I can’t be anything… I’m nothing-”

She slapped the sides of my snout now, rolling back down to stand flat on her feet as she pulled me close to her face and stared into my eyes with such a sharp gaze, “Cora, listen to me. Ratmilian is mistaken. He thinks he wants to know if these dumb squids can become sentient or not, but what he really wants to know, what he fears becoming true, is that my research will reveal that they are like you. He doesn’t care about how smart they are or if they can become that hive mind like his body is, and although you are modeled off of him I can see you are a much different person, a much different being than he is.  You are something. So please, stop saying that you aren’t.”

For a moment, we just stared at each other, and then I broke the silence with a laugh. She seemed confused at first, but then I said, “Thank you, although I don’t think it’s appropriate to use the term ‘person’ when talking about a rat.”

She joined in on the laughter, and suddenly her hand was in mind, and she was twirling around under me, “You’re right there. Maybe ‘ratson’ then?”

“There was another word you used in your report. Persona? Perhaps ‘Ratsona’?” She giggled so loud and true that I became blind as she and I began to dance. It was magical, the way we just fell into one another’s forms, her hands molding gently into my rough, sharp and dangerous hands, and around the empty ballroom, we began to waltz. There was no music except the chimes from our laughter, no melody yet we fell into the perfect step pattern as our hearts beat with elation.

It wasn’t meant to last.

I didn’t know what I was doing. Despite her words, I should’ve known that everything that was happening was too good for a monster like me. Even as I began to accept her words, a dark part of my heart continued to whisper to me that she was wrong, foolish, that I would hurt her. It was one hundred percent right.

In the middle of our waltz, we stopped, as she hair had gotten frazzled in a turn and she was frantically trying to blow it out of the way to see. Taking a risk, I let go of her hand and reached forward, using the back of my hand to brush it back behind her ear, and as she looked at me with such warmth, I melted, and so did everything else.

Suddenly, my arm erupted into noise and motion, my body fell apart as several rats jumped out of the form and onto Rattul’s shoulder and head. At first, she eyed them with curiosity, breathing out a nervous laugh as they began to climb all over her, but then she quickly became panicked when I pulled away and began to vibrate, reaching out to me as the rats began to circle around her neck.

“Cora? Cora! What’s happening? Are you okay? What are they doing?! What’s happening-” She shouted as the rats suddenly stopped and began to form a tight ring around her neck and sunk in, suffocating her. And that was when I realized I had backed away at all.

My arm was still held out to her, the rats were still a part of me. My claws were choking her.

“You’re just a monster.”

I released her like a hot coal had burned me the moment I saw her face begin to turn blue. She fell in a heap on the floor, coughing and hacking as she carefully felt her neck and the bruising that was beginning to form. Her head lifted up to look at me as she heard the nails on my feet tapping against the floor.

“Cora, wait-”

I dashed away, leaving her alone in the throne room. Later I would send my servants to go help her get home, but they would report back in that she had already disappeared. When I went back to the ballroom to sit on my throne many hours later, the envelope would still be there, only there was new writing on the back of it.

The words “I forgive you” would forever haunt me.

It took me two weeks before I worked up the courage to go visit the lab again. I didn’t want to have to face her, but she wasn’t sending reports, and if I didn’t continue monitoring her progress, I feared the wrath of the Emperor being much more painful than last time. He might think Rattul was hiding something, or that I didn’t want him to discover the uprising that I had planned with the newly sentient squid. Either way, my servants had been reminding me enough so I decided the best plan of action was to walk in and pretend that nothing had happened between us.

What I was not prepared for was to find nothing at the lab.

While Rattul was almost always running around or her fellow scientists were scurrying by the tanks close to the door, upon entry at the back door, I saw nothing but green and blue tanks empty, the flickering white lighting of the warehouse, and noticed the absence of the hum of the many machines struggling to keep the squids alive. I walked in cautiously, wondering if someone had broken in, and if so, a part of me couldn’t help getting worked up about where Rattul was.

Where were the squids? She wouldn’t have run off with the research, would she? That would be an instant death sentence if she was found, and leaving the city was a massive “no” as they would have checked her and the scientists cargo and instantly stop them. Ratmilian would be told what had been found, and then they all would get sent to the capital, and then end up sliced up for their disobedience.

Rattul wouldn’t make that mistake, would she?

Or did I simply scare her that badly, I had to wonder…

I continued to walk along the various tanks, all seeing the same thing. Some of them were completely empty and clear, dark and turned off, while others still had their colorful, glowing hue as they were full of water but just devoid of marine life. I reached the center of the lab, and paused at one tank, black and murky. This was the contaminated one.

I was surprised that they hadn’t cleaned it yet. Surely there couldn’t still be squid living inside of this, I thought. Rattul and the rest of her team had stopped feeding them after considering them a lost cause. Why had they persisted on keeping it dirty and contaminated at all then?

I almost continued on, walking past that red metal staircase when I saw something twinkling at me out of the corner of my eye. I turned around, and immediately my eyes zeroed in on something reflecting from above the tank, on the catwalk.

It was the metal clip of her clipboard. Beside it, a single shoe.

It took less than five seconds for my brain to piece together what had happened. The next thing I knew, I was punching the glass, shattering it into a billion pieces as the inky water came pouring out all over the lab, carrying flailing squid and whatever else had fallen inside out. The last thing to ride on the ink wave, falling to rest at the bottom of the tank, was Rattul’s body.

Her skin had turned somewhat gray, her lab coat had absorbed the most of the ink, the white was freshly stained black because it continued to seep into my own fur coat as I picked her up and carefully cradled her in my arms. I couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not. I see you :

“Who hurt you? Who did this to you?” I whispered, my voice coming out in squeaks instead of words. I was stunned, seeing her in such a state. I heard noise clamoring as a door was slammed open behind me.

“Rat King Cora, your highness! Rattul disappeared and we-”

The cowardly scientists. The ones that had never had the guts to do or say anything in my presence. They had always hid behind Rattul or jumped away from me. If they had seen her fall, they wouldn’t have had the speed or the strength to heave her out.

I turned around to face them, Rattul in my arms. The one scientist in the front looked up at me, jittering and shaking.

“Oh, so she was in the t-tank? We hadn’t seen her for days- we had to wonder if-”

There was only one of them. I had seen no cars out front. They lived in this facility, they had nowhere they needed to go. Even if they had seen Rattul’s shoe, I wish they had the competence to clean up after their mess. A part of me wanted to hope that perhaps it was an honest mistake, but there was too much happening, and the lack of surprise on the man’s face combined with the missing everything just said too much to my muddled brain.

My spine and my skin began to turn, I became larger, more monstrous as I hunched my back and towered over the small man, my jaw gaping wide, sharp jagged teeth oozing a terrible stench as I salivated over him, “You did this. You hurt Rattul.”

The rest of the scientists came running to the door, all of them freezing when they saw me.

“Your highness, we’re sorry for lying. We were going to tell you but-”

“Incompetent fools!” I boomed as I took my first strike. With Rattul held close to my chest, I cut across six of the men, sending them flying into walls and the other tanks. I was seeing white, hot white across all of my vision as I let my body rumble and several pieces of me run out to tear them men apart.

I stomped over to one of the screaming men, the noise guiding me through my rampage, “You did this! You let her die! You were stealing her research! You didn’t do anything to help her!”

“We can explain! Please, please, oh god, please stop this!” One of them wailed, until my head came down on his skull. There was noise by the door now, metal unlocking as they frantically tried to get outside. I sent more of me running out. I could feel my energy pulsating as the anger coursed through me.

“It doesn’t matter. You did this.”

Later I would realize how primal my brain had reverted to. A beast’s mentality the only thoughts that were swirling through my head were men bad. Rattul dead. Man’s fault.  When I awoke to Rattul groaning to life later, I would realize that we were in a bloodbath of bodies submerged in a thin puddle of ink water, and that this would not look good on my behalf, no matter what I tried to say. My rats had come back to me, and the complete reforming had left me exhausted, the strange pulsations I had felt radiating from my body unfamiliar but not unwelcome. I went into the back room to find Rattul’s things, and a wave of guilt came over me when I saw many of the squid specimens in the back, in smaller tanks surrounded by notes written in someone’s frantic handwriting. It wasn’t Rattul’s.

The dates on the paper implied Rattul had been in there for days. An accident, they had witness her falling in when she decided to salvage what was left inside the tank for other research. The notes claimed that the others had tried to rescue her, but noticed a peculiar reaction happening, and decided to drop her back in. They had grabbed all the other data from their tank and began to dissect in order to better predict what they could do or what they could expect if Rattul survived the process. I had appeared just when they had started to piece together something. The notes cut off there.

I looked down at Rattul. Color was returning to her, as my fur had rubbed off most of the ink spotting her skin, and she had started showing more signs of life during my reforming, so I reasoned that whatever that power running off of me was, it must have jolted her somehow as well. Still, after days of being in that tank, she didn’t quite look like Rattul, and she didn’t quite look human.

As I was holding her, a clumpy of her wet hair snapped off of her head, slopping to the floor before it wriggled away, almost alive.

I couldn’t let her see what had happened here. If I did, she would surely hate me.

With those thoughts in mind, I went back into the main room, and out the door.

She let out a few sickly coughs the longer she was exposed to the sea breeze, and together we walked back to the castle in the rain.

Found

How long have you been falling?

It's hard to tell, really. Your clock stopped working suddenly awhile ago and there's no sunlight in this endless tunnel to go off of. Nothing feels right here, not the air rushing past, not the sensation of plummeting to what should surely be your doom, not the way the walls whip past you, or the way you can't see the bottom of this death-tube. Nothing works here either, not anymore. Whatever scant Wifi signal you had is long gone now, just like every ounce of magic in your body. You can't even glow, or shift, or teleport out. All of those pressing matters aside, only one thing about this bothers you, your descent hasn't gotten any faster. You've been falling for hours and nothing has changed, it deifies the laws of physics. And as soon as you come to that conclusion, you aren't falling anymore, you're rising. Even though neither your body, nor the tunnel itself seem to change position. But still can feel it, you're rising, ever slowly like an elevator just reaching its floor.

As euphemistic as it sounds, you finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. A flickering green light like the glow of your cauldron, a watery light that is coming all too quickly. You can't stop, you can't even try to stop, and soon you hit the water hard enough to knock the air clean out of you. Your momentum from the ...fall(?) carries you up towards the surface, but your own tremendous weight starts to drag you back down almost immediately. You can't swim, you've never learned how, and given how heavy you are there just isn't any point trying. At least that's what you tell yourself, on land, where you aren't in any danger of drowning.

The familiar crackle of magic returns to you as you slowly sink. Your mind works faster than you give it credit for, as you watch the surface start to shrink away. Your magic spirals out, and you feel your humanoid shape melt into something more useful. A long, powerful tail and gills guide you through the dark water and unceremoniously deposit you onto the nearest shore where you collapse and shiver. Your new appendages wither away, turning back into your old limbs. You struggle to get to your feet to no avail, slipping on the wet sand repeatedly until you give up and just lie there, wet and cold in the near-dark. Something stalks you from the shadows, eyes glowing cartoonishly as it watches you. Your skin seethes, struggling to become any number of unpleasant, toothsome, monstrous things that may scare the onlooker off. But you're too tired to do more than shift and growl as the world goes fuzzy around the edges and you pass out.

You wake up warm and dry, curled upon a massive black cushion, surrounded by sheer silk curtains. You've been rubbed liberally with rose oil, you can still feel the slickness of it on your skin beneath the dress you are now in. Thinking about how you've come to be in this place, dressed like this, makes your skin crawl. So you don't think about it, and instead venture out of your odd little nest. Outside of your little darkened room, wherever you are is glittering and loud, locked in the middle of some boisterous bacchanal. The party-goers seem dazed and gleeful as they writhe in naked piles on cushions or tables or chairs, completely oblivious to you.

You shy away from the worst of the noise and end up following your nose towards something delicious. You find yourself in a throne room, wreathed in strange a strange haze, and swarmed with dancing, drinking, dreaming party-ers in lavish costumes or simply their own bare skin. And there, on a throne, watching these hedonistic proceedings is the Red Queen. Dressed to the nines in very little as she sucks on an elaborate hookah, blowing shimmering clouds of beautiful sugary smoke. She spots you in the crowd and silences everything with a wave of her hand.

"Hello, hello, hello," she purrs as she slithers down to greet you, the crowd parting like the red sea before her. It is her that you were seeking with your ill-fated seek-and-find, perhaps not so ill-fated after all. "Took you long enough, darling, my guards thought you dead but I knew better than that."

She wraps an arm about your shoulders and starts to guide you towards her throne. You glance around and catch your reflection in the mirrors on the ceiling, you look... regal and wild, like a faerie princess at her first revel. Ready to break her parent's hearts and almost ruin her reputation. The party-goers watch you with awe, and some of the more sober among them manage to bow or kiss your hands. Others offer you drinks from cups or the best morsels from their plates. You don't accept any of it, and Queenie jokingly scolds you about being a buzzkill. Both of you squeeze into her throne, legs thrown over the arm rests, her head is half resting on your thigh. You should be worried, frightened, furious. But you aren't. You watch her take a hit from her hookah and blow the scampering Glyph for "Play" into the empty air above your heads. The party resumes, and there is little you can do but watch. Queenie watches too, idly nibbling on the mouthpiece to her hookah.

"You have questions, I can tell." She starts, fixing those black eyes on you, "You wouldn't have wasted the time casting a seek-and-find if you didn't."

You open your mouth and are helpless to stop the torrent of inquiries from leaving your lips,"Where am I? What is all this? Who are those people? What are you smoking? How did I get here? Am I dead?" she just blinks at you for a moment before cackling. You've never heard her laugh before, not like that, it sounds normal, human almost. She wipes a red tear from her eyes.

"Well, you're not dead, I can tell you that much," she snickers, "You're in Underland, think of it as Wonderland two since I have no hopes of ever getting the original back from you." she sounds annoyed, but playfully so, as if you were a younger sibling taking toys she no longer played with but still loved. "These people are my subjects, and this is a party in your honor, take it as an early birthday present if you like." you look at her and she looks at you, you can't feel her probing your mind or twisting your emotions and she doesn't seem to be lying... But...

She takes a few delicate puffs from her hookah and exhales through her nose, watching your eyes light up as the smoke changes colors, "And this, my dear phylactery, is elysia the best drug a faerie can get their grimy hands on. I used to grow it in Wonderland, a labor of love really, pity it can only grow in corpses." she sighs, blowing more smoke in your direction. "You had other things to ask me, about your heart, the crystal and why I'm so friendly all of a sudden." you nod enthusiastically, she shrugs and continues, "If you die, I die, so there's no point in being a bitch about it and trying to hurt you, no i can't turn your heart back the way it was. If I could I still wouldn't, you know that, deep down."

She's right, you do know. She sighs, rubbing her temples, "Enough questions, this is ruining my high, why don't-- why don't go mingle?" she shoos you away, nudging you until you fall out of the throne. You huff and wade into the crowd towards the snack tables. One of the few places not covered in writhing bodies. The air here is heady, not with drugs, but with steam rolling off of mountains of food. Strips of strange meat, raw and drizzled with honey, fountains of jewel-toned wines, frothing pitchers of milk and fresh blood. Piles of fruits you cannot begin to describe, split marrow bones, roasted songbirds, things still living served in cages, and the still-beating hearts of various woodland creatures served on gleaming platters in a sauce of their own thickened and spiced blood. It's only now that you realize you're starving, here in this morbid bacchanal surrounded by both the delightful and gruesome. You stuff your face without hesitation, piling plates high with the strange and the familiar before scuttling back to sit beside Queenie. She picks off your plate, but you really don't mind.

Strangers come up to you, to offer congratulations, salutations, dances and spots in their orgies. You respectfully decline the last bit, content to sit there and eat and otherwise mind your business. Queenie frowns, flicking you with her tail,

"Must you be such a prude? You're ruining the party. Your own party might I add?" you pause, a piece of fruit halfway to your mouth, soon scowling.

"Well excuse the FUCK out of me for not wanting to get dicked down by a bunch of drunk strangers," you snap, angrily shoving the bite of food in your mouth. She doesn't flinch, she only scowls back and blows smoke in your face.

"I never said you needed to have sex with anyone, just relax for Gods' sake, when was the last time you did anything for you? And don't try to bring up the new years party, that was spite, not relaxation." she reaches over and gives your shoulders a squeeze, pressing close with a wicked grin. You can feel her worm her way into your mind, unwinding the ball of stress around your inhibitions until you're putty in her hands. You frown at her, aware of what she's doing, but too at ease to make her stop. She offers you the hookah.

You hesitate, for only a moment, before wrapping your lips around the mouthpiece and inhaling like you're a scuba diver miles beneath the pitiless ocean and its your last gulp of air. It fills your lungs with fucking stars and your mouth with poetry. You exhale auroras on the tails of nonsensical lyrics that somehow capture the moment, in true Wonderlandian fashion. You feel dreamy and strange, like floating on your back in a warm bath while half asleep. You feel free and at peace in the most subtle of ways and you never want that feeling to end. You take another drag from the hookah and entertain the crowds of horny onlookers with poems about islands made of dreams floating on a sea of nightmares. You eat, you drink, you smoke. Perched high on your pedestal with the Queen, you are gorgeous and untouchable, a pearl among pebbles. You forget your troubles, forget your stress, and forget yourself among the rainbow hued clouds of elysia smoke.

You aren't sure when you passed out, time doesn't really work down there and you're way too high to remember much of anything past the honeyed taste of elysia on your tongue. You wake up cold and alone, curled in the bottom of your cauldron, feeling empty. Your skin is on fire wherever it touches the metal, almost instantly breaking out into a blistering rash that has you screaming, scrambling to get out. The cauldron tips over and unceremoniously drops you onto the floor of your lab where you press your ruined skin to the cold concrete and shiver as the frigid emptiness yawns ever wider inside you. You feel hungry, so hungry, so lonely and pointless. Every thought you think is without grandeur or profound meaning. The world, it seems so gray now after the vividness of the party. Was it always like this? Always so boring? What's wrong with you? You can't stay here, you need to go back. Back to Underland, its parties and its elysia.

~Meet Me In The Hallway~ Chapter 2-Embarkation 

And so it goes. Harry's room became my escape route and safety valve.

 At first it was just those nights where there was an unwelcome guest in my room. Or when I was unceremoniously pushed out into the hallway and a sock shoved over the door knob. Whenever my brother pulled that move, all I could think was I hope he showed a bit more finesse with whoever was his company for the evening. Poor thing.

I'd stumble out into the hallway and sometimes I would not even have to knock, Harry would hear the commotion and his door would open to me, Abra cadabra. Most nights I'd plop on the couch, turn on the game and hand him his ass at whatever we were playing. He was getting better though.

"What do you want from room service?" The phone was pressed to his ear, and really every menu was pretty much the same, had the basics.

"Um, can I get a club?" I looked up at him and I was surprised he wasn't waiting for me to make eye contact. Harry was kind of intense with the eye contact, truthfully. Instead,his eyes were glued to my bare legs. Tonight, I'd been pretty settled in, I'm not even sure where the girl came from, it was an off day, so I was in sleep shorts and a t. Thank god I had on a bra. But phones were a thing, and a text message was all it took apparently, retch. When he realized that I caught him staring, he jerked his eyes up to mine and his cheeks colored just a little. The little smile he gave me was apologetic and popped his left dimple, so I was willing to overlook his wandering eye. The path his eyes had left over my legs could be followed still, while we looked at each other because my skin had risen up to his gaze.

"I’m sorry, what?" Harry suddenly said into the phone and turned away from me. I was a little breathless and drug myself from the couch over to the tv to check the connections on the Xbox and insert the game. I smiled to myself as I put in the fifa cartridge. It was my favorite. He had yet to beat me.

I wandered back over to the couch and found that Styles had spread himself out quite grandly. His gangly legs reached across the couch,his ass finding a place somewhere near the middle.

"Where am I supposed to sit?" I laughed as he brought the controllers over to him.

"I have a perfect throne for you, madame," his fake French accent was horrible and I laughed despite myself and hoped it covered the blush at the suggestion that I sit on his lap.

"Nah, that's seat looks a little bony, mate," I commented.

"Bony!" He chaffed, "I'm not bony, I'm pure muscle over here! I'm a man!"

"Alright, big man, scoot over so I can sit down and kick your ass at fifa—"

"Fifa,". He groaned  and moved just enough, dropping his feet to the floor.

"Fifa!" I cheered and dropped right next to him. The only place he had left me. After the lingering glances, the fact that my thigh was pressed to his felt different.

We had been sharing a bed whenever we were in a hotel lately. My brother was all kinds of self involved as he had yet to notice that I was not returning to our room until morning. That, or his vampiric schedule was keeping him from even being aware.

The bed sharing was entirely platonic. It was more that Harry was to much of a gentleman to let me sleep on the couch, floor, or, fuck's sake, the hallway, but he loved sleep to much to not sleep in the beg fluffy hotel beds. They were king sized and it was totally usual for us to wake up on entirely opposite ends of the mattress. The one time we had not slept like that, the first night, I had woken up with his tentacle like arms wrapped around me and his knee between my own. I wish I had taken the time to enjoy it, but instead the lack of familiarity freaked me out. My consciousness had returned slowly and I'd been surrounded by a not entirely unfamiliar smell. It was pleasant and I had nuzzled down into it at the outset, it was when my nose encountered a arm, with light fuzz and heated skin that I shook awake. I'd never slept next to a boy. My imitation grand mal had disturbed Harry. He had groaned awake and pulled his legs out from around mine. I'd extricate my upper body away effectively with my jerky movements.

"Fuck's sake, Mel!" He croaked. Whoa, his voice was low and rumbly, my stomach responded in kind. I'm not sure if it rolled or tightened, but it was as unfamiliar as being in bed with another person.

"Sorry," I pushed my hair from my face.

"Did you forget where you were?" His voice was warming, like the talking had oiled its rusty parts.

"I guess," I shrugged and collapsed back onto the pillow, the one we must have been laid next to each other on. He laid back down as well, but gave me the space I needed to calm myself down.  His calf still met mine from ankle to knee, but I could ignore that, kind of. It felt like this was the most physical contact I'd had with a human being in a long time. My family was not affectionate physically. We more took the piss and stood up for each other. I'd seen that harry was the tactile sort from watching him with the lads and the hair lady, Lou and her little girl. He was often in some kind of love puddle with Lux. It was adorable. I tried to chalk his night time cuddling up to that. "I've never slept with anybody before."

"Oh," was his succinct reply.

Since that first night, I had not woken up with long limbs wound round me. I found myself missing it. How does one miss something you didn't have time to get used to?

Though I did not wake up to octopus cuddles, I did wake up to him with frequency. We spent lots of time together. Only increasing. I even found myself in his room when my brother hadn't kicked me out. Sometimes he would not even be back before I found myself in the hallway looking at Harry's door. Sometimes he would meet me in the hallway on the way back to his room. He would simply nod and lead me into his room. He didn't touch me much, but I could always feel his palm hovering over my lower back. The inches between would notch up a degree of two from the heat of his body. Once I stopped before he expected me to, and his hand connected to my sacrum. I tried to engineer more moments like that afterwards. I'd been successful twice. His palm burned like a brand those three times we made contact.

His long thigh was doing the same to my own now. I wished he was wearing shorts as well instead of joggers. What would it feel like to have his skin pressed to mine while I was awake and aware and able to savor it?

My mind had wandered off and Harry was fist pumping the air.

"Nice job!" I congratulated. I wanted to point out that he only scored because I wasn't paying attention, but I had no interest in explaining why. Best to let him think he was actually getting better. Overconfidence would work in my favor.

"You hungry?" He asked after he eeked out a victory while I pondered the alignment of him to me.

"Yeah, where the hell is the room service?" I complained.

"Not sure, I'll call after I have a wee."

"I can call." I confirmed and he smiled on his way out of the room with a nod of thanks.

I made the call and he came back. His next move surprised me again. I wasn't sure what threshold in our friendship we had crossed, but he approached the couch, pirouetted, and fell into my lap with a sigh. His head fell into the cradle of my lap. He blew out air from his mouth and I covered my nerves like I always did, with humor. "Make yourself comfortable."

"I'm quite comfortable, thanks," he cheesed up at me. "What did the room service say?"

"10 minutes, they have unusual volume," I air-quoted.

"Yeah, two full touring groups will do that. Especially when half of them are stuck in the hotel."

I hesitated a moment before I asked the question surfing on my tongue. "Do you hate that?" I asked, we had never talked about this.I felt his shoulders bump against my thighs in reply. "It must be really hard..." I prompted.

"It sucks, sometimes, but I am so lucky. I get to make music for a living and I have fans who love me, ya so much that they camp outside to meet us. I'm gratef—,"

I laughed outright, "Harry, I'm not a journalist."

He raised his eyebrows, so I continued, "I'm not gonna tell anybody what you say. You can tell me it's annoying. It is. It's a pain in my ass, and they could care less about me. I also get to leave the hotels."

"I can leave the hotel."

"With massive amounts of security and at the risk of being mobbed." I scoffed and nudged him with my hand on his shoulder.

He sighed, "alright, IT would be really nice to see the amazing places we go. Next year when we go to South America, I'm not missing Manchu peechu. I'm thinking about making it a condition on the next tour rider."

"Is that the tour they want to film?"

"Yeah, they'll probably agree because it will make for great footage."

"What a cinematic moment. Harry ascends the Andes," we shared a conspiratorial grin. "What else do you not like about it?" He hesitated. I jostled him, "C'mon Harry, talk to me. You gotta talk to somebody." My hand had found his hair at some point and I was petting him. The physical contact seem to be some kind of key to an unknown lock, because the words just started flowing.

"I wish we had some freedom. Like, everything, that I tweet is dissected down to its last letter or misspelling. Who I follow and what they say is some kind of direct reflection to or of me," he stumbled over his words. "I feel like, um," his hand had found his lip and he was pulling it, slowing the rumble of his frustration. He seemed to have found a way to get stuck into his own head.

"You feel like,"I wrapped my fingers around the back or his ear and ran my nails from the lobe up, up, up until he purred.

The levee broke then and I catalogued another button to unlock his secrets. "I hate all the stuff with the girls, like, the ones I date, or, um, want to date I stay away from because having your name attached to mine can be an, um, a nightmare. I also have to wonder about their motivation all the time. If they are into me, or a means to an end. Even the ones who are famous in their own right. Like, are they just trying to get verified on instagram?"

"How do you pick someone, can you trust the connection?" I supplied, trying to keep him talking. The words were coming out in a torrent and I'd never heard him talk that fast before. Ever. "Like, sometimes, I know the connection is real, but I fucking avoid it like the plague, um, cuz they may be into me too, but if I care about them, what's gonna happen to them? How are they going to feel when people shit all over them everyday, ya know. And if they say they can stand it and try when will it be too much? So, like, the ones I want to stick around I push away because I don't want them to be hurt, and the ones who want to stick around I, like, immediately distrust because they must have some kinda motive, ya know?" He breathed.

"Not really, but I can imagine," my hand remained in his hair and the other was clutching his shoulder.

"I guess I should be grateful, and I am, all the time, for my life. But so much of it is constant movement, constant pressure, that nothing feels fun. Even the fun stuff. And when I have fun, I'm so worried someone will find out."

My brows went up, "what do you mean?"

"I mean I watch the other boys be rowdy and hook up and I used to too, but everyone is paying so much attention to our every move, especially mine, that, like, someone inevitably finds out. It's almost not worth it. I have this feeling I'm gonna get to a place where I'd rather be like, alone in a hotel room wanking than with someone." He heaved with his sigh, "and I hate that I'll choose loneliness over company because of all the fame bullshit."

"That may not happen. Maybe you'll find someone who can handle it, and you trust." I pressed on his shoulder until he looked at me. "You guys work really hard, like all the time. I see you, hear you. Constantly running and recording and being shopped songs. You should have fun when you can. You're only but young, Harry. This is just right now. It'll pass and maybe ease up-,"

"Maybe," he conceded. "God, all this talking wiped me out, wanna go to bed soon?"

"Yeah, let me put the trays out, and I'll be in." I watched him move off and thought about everything he'd said. He didn't seem convinced that things would calm down, I wasn't either. It seemed like he was in this roller coaster for another couple of years at least. I was also really nervous about laying down with him tonight. I took my time cleaning up the debris we had left while eating. When I glanced at the clock I was shocked by the late hour. We'd sat together on that couch and Harry, silly act Harry, had talked for hours.

The talking was not what had made me so nervous. I really like the talking. I felt like we were homies before hand, like bros. I was used to that position. Had learned to accept it. He was not the first boy who made my bones sing and skin pucker up to be kissed yet had seen me as one of the guys- just someone to hang out with. The talk though, i felt like, well maybe I hoped, that it had elevated our relationship. Like maybe we had moved from people who were around each other, who hung out, to real friends.

By the time I had washed up and was ready to get to bed, Harry was nearly asleep. I pussy footed around the bed.

"Wha," he dropped the t, and I was charmed by the affect his tiredness and homeplace brought out.

"I was wondering if I could get a shirt?" My cheeks flamed, but I'd worn this one for 24 hours and just wasn't prepared to lie down in the grittiness. I'd have to make sure to send it out tomorrow when we got to the next hotel. Maybe I'd skip the venue and get stuff done. I usually spent most of it backstage anyway, only finding my way to a seat or a corner with a view when 1D were on and when the setlist got to a place where Harry was prominent.

"Yeah, take this one," he pulled the shirt from his body and handed it to me on a yawn. I danced on my feet for a moment. "Go ahead," he said, "I won't look," he said and I was sorry he meant it. All my bravado had evaporated in the face of actual intimacy. He had rolled a bit away and closed his exhausted eyes. I decided that if he saw, let him, and I stretched and pulled and was aware that I had never cared so much how the act of changing looked. I left my bra on, mostly because taking it off at the moment, even with his eyes closed, felt like a statement of intent. My hopes had not formed so fully yet though, so I put on his top first.

When I pulled it over my face I silenced the sigh that sought voice as the warm scented cotton smoothed over me. I looked at Harry, but his eyes were closed, for better or worse.

Bra or no bra. My breast were big enough that I needed one and usually sighed in relief when the end of the day meant I could quit it. I knew that my  tour mates band mates hand even made comments,  and I'd been made aware by my brother that I was to wear a bra at all times, please. That was said under duress. I usually slept in them with Harry, but I really wanted to take my bra off.

"Cmon, I can't sleep with you hovering and I need you body heat," he didn't open his eyes as he spoke, so I pulled my arms into his shirt and quitted my bra quickly. I left on my shorts though. Mostly because I had neglected knickers when hastily dressing on the bus this morning.

When I got into bed, Harry did something he had never done before. Instead of a hastily murmured good night from the other side of the bed, he rolled towards me and my place in the middle and wrapped his arms around my trunk before he pulled me closer into him.

"This alright?" His breath brushed my ear and I nodded because it was my only option. He seemed to nod off quickly, but I was awake for some time after that. Thinking about those arms, that seemed to be getting bigger, tanner, and more defined daily, and the fact that I could feel his heat, even through the shirt.

Being surrounded by Harry was a place I didn't know how to be in. I was a tourist in a place I had never been to. I didn't speak the language, and Frommer's hadn't written me a helpful guide. I was a bit lost.

 But I never wanted to go home.

This is for gnostic-heretic.tumblr.com I’m easterneuropeswife and I was your Secret Santa! Hope you enjoy!

Sit up straight, Your Highness. A prince does not slouch,“ One of Toris’ servants scolded him, which just made him feel more nervous. He was already sitting up as straight as he possibly could; he felt rigid and knew if he sat up any straighter, he’d probably pop something. "You’re nervous,” One of Toris’ guards, a brunette named Elizabeth, observed. Toris simply nodded in response. “It’ll be fine, you know. I bet half of the candidates will just show off fancy stunts in the hopes they can work for you,” Ever since a mysterious illness had swept through the kingdom, Toris had found himself in need of new servants since many had dropped dead suddenly. He remembered the illness quite well, it was only two years after all. People would suddenly be overcome with huge bouts of profuse sweating before just dying. It was terrifying, sudden, and most of all, mysterious. No doctor or mystic in the entire continent of Europe had an answer. Luckily, Toris himself hadn’t contracted the disease, and neither did his parents,  but many of their staff did, including many of their guards. So Toris found himself reluctantly agreeing to oversee finding a new one while his parents attended a professional meeting in Russia to discuss a new treaty. ‘Reluctant’ being because…he wasn’t the best at maintaining conversation. “Bring in the first candidate,” He announced, clearing his throat. He felt like his voice was too shaky and nervous, but apparently, it still did the job, as Elizabeth and her partner nodded and opened the doors, allowing the first guard to walk in. This guard seemed even more nervous than Toris did at the moment, if that was even possible. He seemed to be a few years younger than his nineteen years, with blonde hair and striking blue-violet eyes. “State your name,” Elizabeth directed, gently nudging the boy closer to the throne. “R-Raivis Galante,” He stated, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I decided to become a guard to prove myself. Everyone thinks I’m so weak and helpless…..but I thought if I managed to train and become better, then perhaps the prince would notice me and nobody would call me weak!” Raivis rambled, pushing some of his hair back. “And by the prince, you mean me, right?” Toris clarified, placing a hand on his head and leaning on one of the armrests of his throne like that. Raivis nodded, a bit too eagerly. “Then show me what you can do! Please.” Raivis nodded again and pulled out his sword, obviously trying to do some sort of fancy trick, which resulted in the sword clattering unceremoniously to the floor. Elizabeth still motioned to his armor, having a lot of hope for this boy. Toris, however, already had made his decision. As Raivis was slowly picking his sword up from the floor, Toris gently waved him away. “I’ve seen enough,” He said nicely, though Raivis still looked extremely nervous. “You still need more practice. In a few years when you’re older, you might make a fine guard for a local noble,” Some other guards escorted Raivis out, who nervously nodded to show he had absorbed Toris’ advice. “Next!” He called once Raivis was gone. The next man was certainly memorable in appearance, if nothing else. He had silverish short hair and red eyes; a combination Toris had only seen portrayed in paintings. The man also had a super cocky grin and stance to him, which made Toris frown. It was the super confidence that he disliked, the kind of confidence that turned its owner into an absolute jerk. “What is your name?” He asked anyway, hoping to be proven wrong. “Gilbert. No need to know my last name. If you need me to return, you’ll remember my looks,” Gilbert gloated, pulling out his own sword. It had a golden handle on the end, and sculpted to look like angel wings. “What will you have me do?” “Just show me how good you are at handling opponents,” Toris stated, snapping his fingers. Instantly, Elizabeth turned serious and was upon Gilbert, making him hold his sword in front of his chest to block her own attack. She managed to catch him off-guard, however, by placing a well-timed kick to his knees, knocking him to the ground. She flipped her hair with a smirk, putting her own sword back. “He oozed of over-confidence. I knew he wasn’t going to be a good fighter,” She said simply, helping him to his feet anyway and shoving him towards the door. “How many more of these must I sit through?” Toris asked, leaning back in his throne some more. It wasn’t his intent to whine, but the stress was getting to him. “Just one more for today. Then if he’s not the one, then we break for lunch,” Elizabeth took her usual spot to the right of Toris, making him nod. “Hopefully he’ll be good. I hate being rough on these choices, I hate crushing their dreams of working for me, but I don’t need inexperience or over-confidence. I need good guards,” He explained just as the last guard came in, making Toris look at him. Right away, he could tell he was different from Raivis and Gilbert. Much like Gilbert, he too oozed overconfidence, but there was a duller, hidden side to it, almost as if this guy was putting up a front. He had shiny blonde hair worn in a similar style to Toris’, though not nearly as wavy, and emerald-green eyes brighter than Toris’ own deep green ones. “Hey there, Your Highness!” The man broke into a huge grin, though Toris detected more of that nervousness sneaking out. “Ready to see what I can do?” “State your name.” Toris cleared his throat, finding his face suddenly hot. Why was it hot? Was he blushing?! “A-and don’t refer to me so casually!” He quickly added for good measure. “Oh, like, right. My name is Feliks. Can you pronounce my last name? Probably not. Anyway, I am kinda here to show off my prowess of being a guard and hopefully earn a spot in your barracks, and your bed,~” Feliks winked, making Toris’ face heat up again. Elizabeth, on the other hand, simply laughed, finding the whole scene humorous. “You want the job? You have to fight me first,” Her tone changed into her more serious one again, and she lunged at Feliks, her sword drawn. Feliks managed to sidestep her and draw his sword in all under a second, then kept blocking her attacks, keeping a solid stance she had trouble breaking. Toris’ eyes widened and he leaned forward in his seat slightly to watch, amazed at how good Feliks’ skills were. Truly, he was correct in saving him for last. Feliks managed to disarm Elizabeth by swinging his sword upwards, knocking her own weapon out of her hands. He then placed his sword at her chest, making her kneel to him. He then smirked and spun around, staring at Toris. “Like, how was that, Your Highness? Did I earn that spot?” Toris nodded and stood up, clapping slightly. “That was…amazing, to say the least,” He praised, handing Elizabeth her sword and helping her to her feet. “I would be honored to have you in my army. Come with me, we will show you to the barracks and give you something to eat,” “Great! But does she have to come with us?” Feliks asked, glaring at Elizabeth slightly. “Lady Elizabeth? She is one of my most trusted knights. Sure, she has….certain limitations to her, but overall she is loyal, hardy, and a far better fighter than twenty of my men. So stay she will,” Toris eyed Feliks back, signaling the end of that conversation. “Now, let’s go to the barracks!” Elizabeth slid her sword into her holder and hurried after Toris, Feliks following soon after. He walked a bit too closer to Toris for comfort, and he couldn’t help but to notice the self-sure aura he radiated earlier was almost gone entirely. He was also looking down at the ground, making a point of not looking at anyone else. Was he secretly shy around strangers? Suddenly, a lot of stuff about him made sense. The trio walked through Toris’ palace for a bit, Elizabeth still trying to make conversation with Feliks and point out some of the older servants, some of her favorite paintings, or where certain doors and stairs led. Feliks seemed disinterested in a lot of it, making Toris frown slightly. Surely a knight would hold more interest in learning about his future home? “The barracks are out here,” Toris explained, pointing to a door that led into the gardens. “Lady Elizabeth is more familiar with them, so she’ll get you settled in,” He then spun around, his red cloak spinning with him, trying to leave before a soft hand grabbed his arm. “No.” Feliks pouted quietly, pursing his lips out. “What?” Toris asked in confusion, spinning back around. “I said, no. I want you to show me around the barracks,” Feliks said louder, giving Toris a really pouty look. Really, he looked like one of the gossipy girls in the village who announced their innocence by the flower crowns in their hair. It was kind of….cute to Toris to see a grown man give that look. “Alright, but I’m not as well-versed as Lady Elizabeth is. I might make us go around in circles!” He warned, stepping out into the garden himself. “Lady Elizabeth, go inform the cooks we’re taking lunch a bit later than expected,” He ordered, and she bowed and hurried off to do so. “I don’t care about that. I don’t want to hear about her perspective of the barracks. I like, wanna hear about yours!~” Feliks perked right back up when Elizabeth left, making Toris blush when he realized the two were left alone. “Mine? Uh, alright,” Toris blushed even more and hurried through the garden, not taking the time to really admire the flowers like he normally did. The barracks were off to the left part of the garden, hidden behind some low-hanging trees. Toris pointed to the dark building and walked inside, covering his face slightly in embarrassment. “This is the main area, where the guards hang out, eat, and things like that,” He could feel a nervous stutter threatening to break out, but he forced it down with a swallow. He would not break his composure in front of this man. “Oh, I see now. Those tables are like, for that!” Feliks nodded, peeking over Toris’ shoulder, making him blush even more. He hadn’t even noticed how much he towered over the blond until that moment. “And those hooks are for our coats and stuff, right?” He questioned, looking at Toris’ face closely. “Wait, Your Highness….are you like, blushing?!” He asked in disbelief. “What? Of course not! A prince never blushes!” Toris declined immediately, clearing his throat several times. However, his face never stopped feeling hot, making Feliks grin in triumph. “You are!~~~~ Just admit it, Your Highness, you got a little crush on me!~~~” He popped in front of Toris and put his hands on his hips, doing that cute little pout again. Toris cleared his throat several more times for good measure and walked ahead, pushing Feliks out of his way. He then walked down a hallway with several doorways on either side of him, his golden heels making little noise on the floors. “These are sleeping quarters. There used to be a lot more guards here, but now….there’s only a couple. So you’ll likely have a room to yourself, isn’t that lucky?” Toris laughed nervously, making Feliks huff. “I suppose. Though I tend to share with people I like. Like my friends,~” He gave Toris another smirk at the end of that phrase, making Toris’ entire face heat up again. He covered it up in embarrassment and hurried out of the barracks, having quite enough of their tour. Feliks followed after him and looked at a few flowers. “Normally, you eat with the other guards, all of your meals. But since you’re new here, today I’m going to make an exception and let you eat at my table,” Toris explained, making Feliks gasp. “Seriously? You really, really mean it? Like, no joke?” He asked in disbelief, and when Toris nodded in confirmation, he found himself in a giant hug-tackle from Feliks, knocking the two to the ground. “Like, you’re amazing! Way better than the last noble I worked for! I promise, I like promise, I’ll never let you go,” He whispered the last part, then seemingly remembered his position and got off Toris, this time blushing like crazy. “Sorry….” “It’s okay…” Toris said quietly and quickly, standing up in a rush and smoothing out his green robes. “It was an accident,” He started heading back into the castle, wondering about Feliks’ back-story. He wondered if this man was the best choice to protect him, and what kind of person he would eventually reveal himself to be. And finally, just what kind of feelings was he stirring up for Toris? Nothing he had any experience with, yet….it didn’t feel entirely bad. In fact, it kinda felt….good. A small smile broke out on his face as he watched Feliks run ahead of him into the palace to get some food. No matter what kind of person he turned out to be, one thing was certain. Feliks was an interesting person, and he was the only person who had managed to make Toris’ heart flutter.

NABOO ARC DRABBLES 1/?

i wrote this for morgan but i GUESS other people can read it if they want (it won’t make sense tho). trigger warnings for abuse, manipulation, degradation, etc. all done to ben at the hands of snoke. read at your own risk. i mostly needed to flesh some emotions out for rp purposes. 

He is tossed in an unceremonious heap at the Supreme Leader’s feet. His own Knights of Ren kick at the backs of his calves until he’s kneeling, head bowed in reverence, and he doesn’t have it in him to continue his guttural screams of protest. 

“As requested, Supreme Leader,” General Hux says, hands clasped behind his back, and Ben can feel the resentment coming off of him in waves. 

Hux offers one last, scathing sidelong look after he’s dismissed, his instructions firm but clear: destroy what remains of the Resistance. Ben counts the bootfalls of those who exit: first the general, then the Knights, and then the door hisses closed and he is left alone. He keeps his eyes carefully trained on the floor. His knees ache and his wrists are screaming from fighting against the cuffs. He’s just a man, hollow and debased, bruised across his face and bloody across the back of his skull from the hilt of a blaster. There are unbidden tears in his eyes. 

Mom, he thinks, and then immediately wishes he hadn’t when he nearly chokes with the knowledge that she’s...she’s… Rey, comes a moment later. He can’t feel either of them.

“You wonder why I keep a rabid cur in such a place of power?” Snoke, who slithers through his mind like a snake, ignores the misstep of mentioning a name. “Because weakness, properly manipulated, can be a sharp tool.”

Ben does not answer. Each breath is shallow a sharp, a wound across his lungs. His gaze is watery. A moment later, his chin is tilted and not of his own volition. He feels the spindly grip of Snoke’s invisible fingers along his jaw. His face is turned this way and that, something that feels like a thumb skimming the tender skin below his cheek, and he grits his teeth against the sensation. 

“How’s your wound?”

He doesn’t know what to say. Surely the Supreme Leader must see that it’s long since healed? 

“It’s nothing,” he mutters. 

That is not the answer Snoke wants. Ben’s face is shoved away with a violent Force, the base of his skull snapping against his neck, and it takes every ounce of strength not to fall back against the floor of the throne room. He finally lifts his eyes to see the Supreme Leader stalking toward him. Ben, not for the first time, feels a scratching at the base of his skull. Shadows are slithering there, thick and oily, and he is thinking of his mother. The emotions she’d felt before...before… 

Anger. Fear. Regret. The resolute knowledge of what was to come and accepting one’s fate. 

My son. Ben. I love you. I’m sorry. 

Ben makes a noise at the back of his throat. It sounds like a sob. 

“The mighty Kylo Ren,” Snoke is close enough now that Ben can hear the ragged way with which he breathes. He’s always been broken, ugly, weak in body but never in the Force. “When I found you, I saw what all masters live to see. Raw, untamed power. And beyond that, something truly special. The potential of your bloodline. A new Vader.”

He knows he’s trembling. Snoke reaches out again, this time with his true hand, and Ben feels his fingers brush through his hair. He shuts his eyes against the touch and tries to focus on anything other than the bile at the back of his throat. 

My son. Ben. I love you. I’m sorry. My son. Ben. I love you. I’m sorry. My son. Ben. I love you. I’m sorry --

Snoke tugs on his hair, forcing his head back until so he can better study Ben’s features. “Now I fear I was mistaken.”

The roots of his hair groan in protest. A single tear rolls down his cheek now, saltwater stinging the fresh would left by the viroblade of one of his Knights. 

“I’ve given everything I have to you,” Ben protests. He resists the urge to bring his own hands up, to claw at the Supreme Leader’s wrist, or maybe tilt his head and bite down on the tender skin. He wants to tug and tug with his teeth until skin is torn away from bone. “To the dark side.”

Snoke’s hollow gaze narrows. Ben can feel it, even if he still refuses to look at him. The cuffs fall free of his wrists. He hardly notices. 

“You have too much of your father’s heart in you, Young Solo.”

“I killed Han Solo.” The words rush out, unbidden and quick, and he wishes he could clamp his lips together and hold his tongue. When he finally lifts his gaze, he knows he’s made a mistake. He’s choking on his own pride, his grief, on the quiet, childlike Mom? he’d echoed back to Leia with his thoughts right before he felt the tender cord that connected them snap in half, and the horrifying scream that had followed. It had taken so long to realize it was his own. “When the moment came, I didn’t hesitate.”

“And look at you. The deed split your spirit to the bone,” Snoke yanks, hard, and Ben is hauled to his feet so gracelessly that he doesn’t realize he’s hovering, kept afloat by Snoke’s grasp on his hair. His toes barely skim the ground. He reaches out to steady himself and is rewarded only with his fingers grappling uselessly at coarse, golden robes. “You were unbalanced, bested by a girl who had never held a lightsaber!”

Ben screams at that, angry and feral, but not because of the pain. It registers vaguely, a dull ache compared to previous things he’s suffered at the hands of Snoke. This hurt is one that throbs all the way down to his soul. Rey, he thinks again, and the shadows in his mind flood forward. His memories are no longer his own. The Supreme Leader is raking through them, fingernails scratching down rose-colored thoughts of easy smiles, familial closeness, and carefree laughter. The image of Rey in his mind’s eye is swallowed in the darkness. 

Another string of thoughts, harsh and cold: Where is she? Didn’t she feel his panic? Doesn’t she know that he is back within Snoke’s grasp? Why can’t he feel her coming for him? 

And then: She is not coming. 

“You failed!” Snoke insists. 

She is not coming, he thinks again, and Ben is too far gone under the darkness flooding his mind to realize the voice is not his own. Why would she come for you? It croons, malicious and familiar. Did you think she would love you? You? A terrifying laugh, and Ben is crumbling under the conflicting physical pain of Snoke’s angry hold on his hair and the smothering sense of being crushed alive as he feels the shadows sink into the folds of his mind. She could never love you. You’re a monster.

This time, Ben feels a surge of energy rise up from his toes. It builds and builds, horrible and suffocating, and the room shakes when he screams again. There’s a flicker of something on Snoke’s face that looks a lot like fear, and then he is tossed away like a ragdoll. It’s harsh enough that he feels his muscles jolt in protest when he tries to lift himself up and off the ground. 

“Skywalker lives!” Snoke bellows. Ben is more than aware his entire body is trembling again when he looks up to meet his gaze. “The seed of the Jedi Order lives. So long as it does, hope lives in the galaxy.” 

Snoke turns, striding back to his throne, and Ben follows the trail of his robes, eyelids fluttering. The shadows are sinking into his mind with long, sharp talons. They’re taking root. 

My son. Ben. I love you. I’m sorry. 

His heart is beating so quickly he wonders if it will tear its way through his ribcage.

He also wonders if that would hurt less than the way he can feel it tearing itself in two. 

She is not coming. 

“Alas,” Snoke stops in front of his throne and reaches for something. It’s heavy and solid in his hands. “You are no Vader.” 

He stands, finally, and ignores the way his ribs groan. Bones are splintering further with each breath he takes. When Snoke turns, it is with a smile. It hooks into the curves of his face with sinister severity, but he is no longer afraid. Snoke holds the helmet in both hands, angles it this way and that, just as he had his apprentice’s face, and regards it with some admiration. 

“You’re just a child,” Snoke continues, “in a mask.”

And the horrible, eyeless prison is tossed at his feet with a deafening clang. He waits for one heartbeat and then another, and then Ren slowly bends at the waist to retrieve it. 

When he slides it into place over his head, the voice inside of his mind welcomes him home.