I finally finished this painting!!

I u want, could u mayhaps write about annabeth seeing percy after a long time apart and realizing his voice grew deeper? I saw a post about it once and I think u would nail it perfectly<3

TIME PASSES SO QUICKLY AHH but here it is! I also got another request of pre-relationship percabeth and let’s just say that y’all read my mind. Also sorry that I can’t seem to write anything under 1k words 😩

read on ao3

“So I heard Percy’s coming today,” Silena said casually, holding a basket against her hip.

Annabeth yanked one of the strawberries so hard that its leaves came along with it.

“He is?”  

She didn’t try to shroud her excitement like she would’ve done, not too long ago.

“Yeah. Charlie told me.”

She felt a twinge of jealousy that Percy hadn’t even mentioned it to her, but she quickly clamped it down. It wasn’t his fault. Not entirely, anyway. They’d IM’d at the beginning of their semester as freshmen, but then it had gotten to the point of him mentioning Rachel all the time, and then the year had gotten busier, and…

Well, they’d lost contact.

Realizing she’d zoned out, she blinked away the fog from her eyes.

“But honestly I wasn’t supposed to tell,” Silena was saying. “He said something about it being a surprise or whatever. I just wanted to see your reaction.”

Annabeth must’ve been doing something strange with her face, because Silena gave her a smug look, raising her eyebrows. She was used to her doing that, so she didn’t mind.

Well, maybe a bit.

But the daughter of Aphrodite already knew everything there was to know about her feelings for Percy. Probably before even Annabeth first realized that she was in love with her best friend. So again, it was pointless to hide from her.

“So.” Silena bumped her gently on the shoulder. “What are you gonna wear?”

Annabeth lifted her sun hat and stared at her for a couple of seconds. The latter looked as perfect as ever, despite the grueling sun. With her pink crop top, mini shorts, perfect makeup, and her dark hair pulled back into a low bun, Annabeth had little doubt that she could help her choose a different outfit other than her torn camp wardrobe. But, still, this was Percy.  

Her best friend.

“Mmm...no, it’s fine. We’ve got to finish the south side of the strawberry fields, so, we can’t lose time, ya know?”

Silena gaped at her, then scoffed.

“What am I going to do with you, Chase?” she muttered, crouching to the ground again and shoving her hands into the foliage. “But whatever—it’s your call. Like, you’re so pretty that you actually look good in that sorry excuse of an outfit.”

Her eyes roved over Annabeth’s shirt and jeans. She felt herself blush at the attention.

“Hey, is that blood?”

“Uh...Maybe—but it’s old! Don’t worry.”

“A lost cause, I tell you.”

:

It had been too long since she’d caught a glimpse of that tell-tale curve of the shoulders and those raven curls.

Percy was early. Most of the summer campers always came the next week or so from this one, but she wasn’t complaining about his untimely arrival. Not when he looked that cute in his school uniform and with that ridiculously messy hair.

She regarded him from afar as he chatted with Beckendorf by the Big House porch, a bag slumped over his shoulder. Something about him—in the way he laughed or how he suddenly looked taller—made her stomach drop like a volleyball, made every blade of grass seem brighter.

Running up to him, she yelled, “Hey, stranger! Why so early?”

He turned to the sound of her voice, flashing her that crooked grin of his. Gods, she’d missed him.

“Hey yourself!”

When she finally reached the two boys, she skidded to a halt in front of Percy and gave him an exaggerated once-over.

“Why’d you still have your uniform on, Seaweed Brain?”

“Do I?” he gazed down at his white shirt and gray pants. His eyes flicked to her again, smiling sheepishly. “Oh. Kinda forgot I had it on, I guess.”

“Man, I’ve already told you,” Beckendorf said. “Leave the fancy shit home.”

“I forgot, okay? You know I hate this stupid uniform.”

In her honest opinion, the uniform seemed to be quite the opposite of stupid. Really, it should've been a crime to look that good in white and rolled up sleeves.

“Yeah, whatever.” Beckendorf glanced back and forth from Percy to Annabeth. He smirked and patted Percy on the back. “Anyway,  I’ll leave you to it.”

She watched him stroll to the Big House and step inside. He’d probably been here—with Percy—in the first place because of a favor from Chiron.

They stood there, letting the silence build up.

His eyes were warm, green like the shallow sea. Annabeth had always thought that she’d get used to that color, that luminescence. But she never did. Every time she peered up at them, it felt like the first time all over again. She could drown in those eyes and beam up at the fading sky and not beg for breath.

But now, it was worse. It was worse because she could tell that he’d grown. Actually grown. She didn’t quite know how to feel about the fact that his voice had abruptly dropped at least an octave lower than from last summer and that from now on, she’d have to lift her chin to meet his eyes.

“You’ve changed,” she blurted out.

She probably winced a little. Hopefully, she’d sounded casual.

“In what way, exactly?” His mouth twitched into a grin, cheeks dimpling, and her nervousness faded to a quiet buzzing. “That I’m finally taller than you?”

She pushed him away lightly to cover up the flush that was surely painting her cheeks a light pink. This was stupid. He was just being stupid. It was just Percy, for gods’ sake.

“Yeah, taller than me by like, an inch.”

“Admit it, you’re jealous.”

“I hate you.”

That was a lie, and Percy knew it.

“No, you don’t.”

“How am I supposed to keep things out of your reach, now?”

“See, that’s the point. Now I get to pick on you. Shortie.”

Annabeth stuck her tongue out. “You’re such a child.”

He laughed again, giving her whiplash from how different the sound rang in her ears. His laughter had always been a comfort to her, something that made her chest warm and gave her the motivation to try and let it out of him, again and again.

And it still was.

But this new laugh, however, had a richness to it that she felt down to her toes. He threw his head back, eyes crinkling like they always did. And yet, she found new angles to it. Saw a strange glow. He stood under the spotlight of a brand new theater, making everything he did seem like something new and foreign.

It dawned on her that she was staring like an idiot, even after Percy’s smile had faded to a lingering tug of the mouth.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, plain and honest. In many ways, he hadn’t changed. Not really.

“Me too.” Their eyes stayed interlocked for a couple more seconds. She cleared her throat. “Have you, uh...told Chiron you’re here?”

“He already knows.”

“Psh. So am I the only one that didn’t know about you coming here?”

She didn’t mean to sound so accusatory, but there was no backing out, now.

He ducked his head. It was barely recognizable, but she could always tell when he was blushing.

“I...well, you know, wanted to, um—surprise you.”

Another awkward pause.

Percy scratched the back of her head. “Do you, uh...wanna walk with me? To my cabin?”

“Sure.”

:

“You know,” he said. “My mom made you cookies.”

“Are they any good?” she teased.

He turned to give her an incredulous look. “This is my mom we’re talking about. Of course they’re good.”

“Okay...well, what are you waiting for? Hand them over, Seaweed Brain.”

“In a sec. I’m too lazy to open my bag right now, in the middle of camp.”

As they walked, Annabeth noticed how heads turned when the campers got a good look at the two of them together. Most of them just stared at Percy. They passed by some of her siblings carrying spears; she saw Malcolm wink and felt herself blush again.

“Anyway, you wouldn’t have guessed what I got on my finals,” Percy was saying.

She glared pointedly at Malcolm, then whirled her head to look at Percy again. “What’d you get?”

“Guess.”

“Oh my gods, Percy. Just tell.”

He smiled and gave her a sideways glance. “You’re no fun.”

But even if he said it casually, the comment dug deeper than she would’ve liked. Did he think Rachel was fun? She decided not to dwell on that.

Annabeth was the one talking to him. Not Rachel.

He glanced at her once, but seemingly decided to fix his gaze forward. His eyes sparkled in a way that she knew meant he was trying to hold back a grin. He’d failed in the attempt, though.

“Okay, I’ll just say it: A ‘B’ plus.”

Her jaw dropped. “Percy!”

“Yeah,” he laughed.

“Oh my gods!”  

Clarisse, standing by the Ares cabin, mimed Annabeth, mouthing her words and making kissy faces. She mostly ignored it, too distracted on what Percy had just said.

Her heart swelled at the thought of all the work he must’ve put himself through.

She grasped his arm. “I’m so proud of you, Perce.”

“Yeah, me too. Paul helped, though. And mom.”

“Give yourself some of the credit.”

He sighed happily. “I guess I can say that I didn’t cheat. Well, maybe a little.”

She tried to shove him, but he danced away.

“Ohh, don’t tell me that you’ve never cheated on anything.”

“Okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Like maybe once or twice.”

“See?”

“But whatever. You got a ‘B’ and that’s what matters.”

“Yeah. It is.”

They smiled at each other for a second, then, he shouldered his bag and stopped by cabin three. The abalone shell seemed to glow brighter when he stood next to it.

Before she could stop herself, she said, “We should celebrate.”

He lifted one of those thick eyebrows of his and leaned back against the door frame. “What do you mean?”

“You know…” she kicked some of the stray pebbles from the ground, suddenly flustered. “Your grades. It deserves a celebration, don’t you think?”

His face lit up once more. “Oh! Yeah, like a picnic or something? We could eat the cookies Mom made—unless you want them for yourself, which is fine—”

“No!” She bit her lip. “I mean—sharing is cool. I’d like that.”

Annabeth decided it best not to visibly cringe at herself. Who’d even say “sharing” and “cool” at the same time?

Luckily, Percy nodded along with her. “Okay. Cool. Wait—that reminds me…” He unzipped his bag, hands already roaming around inside it. “Ah, here it is.”

He took a take-out like box with red flowers painted around the sides. They looked handmade. She accepted the gift with a smile.

“Who made these?” she asked, examining the paintings closer. “They’re pretty.”

When she saw his smug look, she didn't have to think twice about who had decorated it.

“I did,” he said. Her expression must’ve still been akin to impressed shock, because he chuckled. “What? You think I can’t be artistic?”

She shrugged. It was a simple fact, really. “Since when did you learn?”

“Uh, Rachel taught me.”

“Oh.”

He nodded tightly.

Right. While she’d lived on the other side of the country, alone and with a family who still wasn’t that comfortable around her, he’d been off with his new mortal girlfriend. And how much time must it have taken for Rachel to teach him how to do those precise brushstrokes? To combine those colors properly? Days or more, she knew.

They’d been busy.

She pretended not to care, anyway, opening the box to check on the cookies. “They, um...They look good!” She met his eyes so that he could see just how sincere her words were—because they really did look divine. Divine and blue. “Give Sally my thanks. And you must’ve worked really hard on this. So, thanks also.”

Annabeth noticed how he relaxed at the change of subject. Idiot.

“I will. And nah, it was nothing. I just really wanted to, um, to contribute with the gift. I guess. And mom loves you, so…”

“Loves me more than you?”

He snorted. “Probably.”

The edges of her mouth quirked up. “So...when are you up for that celebratory picnic thing?”

“Uh...from what I remember, I think my schedule’s got like, free time at around five. That sound good?”

Her mind buzzed through her list of daily activities, relieved to find something else to think about other than the awkwardness that now lingered in the air.

“Yeah, I think I’m free at five, as well. Tomorrow, right?”

“Sounds good to me.”

:

It wasn’t the same. That, she could tell.

She bit the inside of her cheek, watching him fight with Clarisse. So they’d go on a picnic together. Big deal.

She’d just barely stepped outside cabin three when Silena had dragged her away, begging for every detail.

Annabeth wasn’t going to lie: she was excited. More so than she’d let on. And yet, she wasn’t sure if he liked her that way.

Not with other girls fanning over him, now. Girls like Rachel.

How could she have let him go so easily? How was this the first time in months since she’d last seen him?

She’d spent the day pretending it was fine. Her heart ached whenever he was near, but it also hurt when he was gone. She couldn't have it both ways.

So yes, everything was fine.

Maybe if she said those words enough, then she'd start to believe it and stop with this feeble act of hers. This pretending that none of the shit they’d been festering against the other mattered. And in the process, also pretend that these new feelings she had for him—that didn’t feel so new—never existed in the first place.

Then again...what was she thinking?

This was her best friend. Her best friend whom she’d tried to kiss about a year ago and who hadn’t even breathed a word about it since. Who talked to her like he was stepping around eggshells. Who was clearly not interested in her in that way if what she suspected about Rachel was true and who had suddenly become one of the most attractive guys in Camp Half-Blood.

She hated this. This sensation of her heart beating faster, her breath coming short. Her brain fading any thought away, leaving it lustrous with the image of Percy. Percy this and Percy that. His stupid smile and his stupid laugh and—

Ice-cold water struck her skin, stopping her thought process short like a shock wave.

“Sorry,” Silena said, not actually sounding sorry. Stray water dripped from her hand. “You were spaced out for a while.”

Their canoe boat rocked back and forth along with the gusts of wind.

“Okay,” Annabeth said, glaring at her friend. She wanted to wipe that cheeky grin off her face. “Now you’re just asking for it.”

With a sharp, practiced tug, she flipped them over. Silena’s screech died when they hit the water.

She resurfaced, spluttering, splashing Annabeth again and again.

“You little shit! I am going to kill you!”

“What?” Annabeth laughed, choking on water. “I thought your makeup’s waterproof!”

Silena threw more water at her.

“Your point?”

And okay, maybe they looked like fools fighting in the middle of the lake, laughing and joking around. But it was fine; no one was there to witness it except perhaps the naiads and the cicadas that roared in the woods along with the rogue monster.

Well...there was one person.

But the girls didn’t have the mind to notice him.

Percy sat on the back of the pier and smiled, shaking his head.

Maybe someday, they could move on from this strange faze. From skipping around each other, then acting like friends all over again.

Someday.

The sound of the conch horn in the distance brought a reluctant stop to the chirping of the crickets. Dinner time.

He stood up and made his way back, wishing that just maybe, he could be brave enough to tell her how he felt. To unashamedly look at her and no one else as though she were the fading sun, inviting for the naked eye to gape at directly as it caressed the sea and the tree tops while coloring the sky a deep purple. To kiss her in front of all those stupid people and hug her and make her laugh and smile, all golden and beautiful.

Rid himself of the worries, once and for all.

But it couldn’t be.

Maybe, just maybe…

Someday.

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

Chapter 12 (17 Pages)

<< First | < Previous | Next >

Tension grows between Tobias and Nia as they try to rescue a lost tropius calf from a mystery dungeon.

 -

“H-How about this one?”

Tobias looks over to where Nia is pointing at one of the notes on the mission board. He skims over the mission’s details, snorting. “No way.”

“But it’s close to Afon’s Cap, right?”

“Yeah, but there’s only one mission and it’s not even worth that many points. The rewards suck.”

Nia’s ears pin back, but she only keeps her disappointed expression for a heartbeat. Then her brow furrows and her lip twitches, as if she’s itching to snarl at him. “Fine, you pick then,” she mumbles, stalking a few feet away to rummage through the supplies bag slung over her shoulder. 

Really? She's pouting just because he doesn't want to waste their time going all the way to Afon's Cap?

Tobias huffs, snatching a low-level mystery dungeon mission off the board and marching right past the riolu, not bothering to say what he’d chosen. It’s a fairly close location, with a few floors of dungeon-crawling necessary. Tobias needs to beat up some ferals to vent. Nia’s been acting weird for days now, and it’s really starting to tick him off.

Once he reaches the quieter seclusion of the tunnels, Tobias can hear Nia’s soft footsteps following him from a few lengths back. They silently make the journey through the underground and up into the forest itself, trekking through the foliage and deeper into the forest. At one point Nia stops to grab a fallen branch, as she usually does for missions that require combat. He doesn’t know why she insists on fighting with it—she’d be stronger if she just used her moves—but he’s going to bring it up eventually if she doesn’t fix the habit herself. They continue until they reach a wide, open field of tall, yellowed grass. The whole walk takes maybe a half hour or so, really not that far, but Tobias finds that without Nia’s questions and frequent comments it’s weirdly uncomfortable.

He glances back at her. Nia’s looking around, clearly enjoying the sunshine on her fur, holding the branch like a walking staff. However, whenever she notices him watching her, she quickly averts her eyes with an uneasy expression. Tobias feels a jab of anger and curls his hands into fists. Fine. She doesn’t want to talk? That’s just fine by him.

Tobias freezes, anger forgotten, as an increasingly familiar sensation suddenly weighs down on him, tingly and dangerous. This is a dungeon zone. He carefully scans the grass ahead, frowning when he just barely manages to spot an inconspicuous hole in the ground, around his size. An…underground dungeon? Great. That probably means ground types.

Tobias cautiously approaches the pit, pausing at the lip of the tunnel and feeling himself tense when he sees the stone stairs leading down into darkness. It looks pitch black down there. At least he has his tail to light the way, but...

Nia doesn’t comment on the dungeon’s appearance, so Tobias puts on a brave face and ducks into the entrance. Immediately, the terrain changes and flips, Tobias’ stomach along with it. When the ground finally settles, the charmander looks around, wary. Even with his sharp eyes it’s impossible to see their surroundings, save for the halo of light from his tail flame. Thank Entei for that. The walls seem to be solid and rocky, the air cool and damp.

“I-Is it normal for a dungeon to be this dark?” Nia whispers.

Tobias considers not answering, just to be petty, but then sighs and shakes his head. They have a mission to do. “Not usually, but it’s not unheard of for underground dungeons. We should be fine with my flame.”

Nia nods, clearly waiting for him to take the lead, and he does, swinging his tail around and holding it near the tip to light the way like a torch.

“W-What floor is our objective?” Nia whispers.

“Fifth. We have to rescue a lost tropius calf.” Before Nia can ask, he drawls, “Grass and flying type, brown and green. Kind of shaped like Maggie—long neck, four legs.”

There’s a moment of quiet save for their steps and a few distant sounds among the caves, echoes of growls and the clatter of pebbles. Then Nia murmurs, “It must be so scared, especially as a flying type. They hate being underground, right?”

Tobias doesn’t like to think about it, honestly. The Pokémon is just a kid, after all. “Yeah. The quicker we find the calf, the better.”

From there they return to silence as they search for the stairs. Aside from the frequent tripping they do over larger rocks or holes, the dungeon proves to be especially annoying because it’s hard to see the entirety of some of the bigger rooms with their one small light, so they end up having to walk more to be sure they don’t miss a staircase.

Plus there’s the unnerving echoes of the ferals around them, hiding just out of sight in the shadows. Right on cue, something screeches in the darkness, a leathery fluttering following, and the Pokemon swoops at Tobias’ face from the darkness of the ceiling. He dodges, seeing Nia duck under the Pokémon with a yelp. More flapping, and then it dives again. Tobias growls and shoots a cloud of embers at it, rolling away when the thing doesn’t go down even after a nasty burn. A zubat, maybe?

It swoops in again, and Tobias times his leap perfectly, swiping the Pokémon out of the air with a metal claw and flinging it to the ground. Nia hesitates before jumping in, knocking it out with an overhead swing of her branch. Even with the makeshift weapon she looks incredibly uncomfortable with combat, but the hit does its job.

Now that it’s still, Tobias can see that their attacker is actually a swoobat. Psychic type. Great. Nia better not get cornered by one of these things. He should probably warn her, but when he looks up at her she stares back at him without a word, ears flicking nervously and not even asking him what kind of Pokemon it is. He frowns and turns to continue their exploration.

They stumble across an apple and a pecha berry that they gratefully pocket before finally finding the staircase leading deeper underground. The two of them take it, and Tobias can’t help feeling irritated that the lower floors are equally as dark.

A yip and a snarl is their only warning before a fluffy four-legged Pokémon, low to the ground, charges at them. Tobias jumps over it, shooting an ember attack the direction it went and growling when it hits nothing. Even worse, his fire seems weaker than usual. Is it because it’s so damp? Or is it an effect of being underground?

Before he can get an answer, the Pokémon charges them again, managing to slam into Tobias’ side before Nia catches it with a powerful swing of her branch. The Pokémon yelps and rolls into the dirt. Tobias takes his chance and leaps on it, giving it an ember attack to finish it off.

When it’s unconscious, Tobias swings his tail around to get a better look. Furry tan body and floppy ears, and a collar of stones around its neck. A rockruff. Tobias takes a moment to make sure it’s out cold before they move on.

The next two floors are relatively uneventful. More darkness, more annoyingly wet cave air, more attacks from ferals who thankfully aren’t that difficult to defeat. And more frigid silence between the two of them.

Seriously, what is with Nia lately? Tobias almost prefers the previous week’s annoying chatter to this stony silence. She’s clearly upset with him today for rejecting her Afon’s Cap mission (There’s no point! The mission rewards are awful!), but there’s no way he’s apologizing to her for it. At least they’re on the fourth floor and should be out of here soon. Hopefully she’ll be over her mood by tomorrow.

Tobias is broken out of his mulling by a quiet noise ahead of him, and he tenses up, falling into a battle stance.

Silence.

The sound stopped. So what—

The ground under Tobias’ feet bulges and cracks. He throws himself forward to dodge, rolling around in time to see a sandshrew burst out of the ground, claws bared. Nia stumbles back and out of the halo of light with a surprised yelp.

The sandshrew whips around to look at Tobias, eyes narrowing to pained slits. His tail flame must hurt its sensitive vision. Good.

Tobias springs to his feet and sucks in a breath, spewing out an extra hot cloud of embers at the ground type. The sandshrew squeals and immediately digs into the earth, away from the light. For a moment it’s quiet, and Tobias thinks that it’s ran off.

But then the earth once again explodes from underneath his feet, and the sandshrew manages to score its claws up his leg. He sucks in another breath to spit out embers, only for the sandshrew to immediately dive back into the ground, away from the light.

Ambush attacks? That’s unusually clever for a feral. And annoying. A moment later, the sandshrew leaps out at him from the left in a shower of rubble, and Tobias spins to meet it, just a tad too slow. His metal claw deflects most of its slash attack, but it gets in a scratch on his side. Tobias snarls, feeling his anger start to rise as he spins, looking around for the sandshrew. It must’ve vanished into the ground again.

“Come out and fight me!” He yells.

The sandshrew erupts from the dirt behind him, tackling him down to the ground. Before it can do any real damage, Tobias hears the patter of footsteps. The sandshrew squeals as Nia slams into it with a full-body tackle, and the weight leaves his back as the two go rolling. Tobias staggers to his feet and tries to jump in, but as soon as he gets close the sandshrew burrows out of sight again.

“For Moltres’ sake!” He growls, frustrated, wiping away the blood dripping from his nose. Darn thing slammed his face into the ground when it tackled him.

“It seems to be going after you,” Nia says, stepping close to him so they stand almost back to back. “I think the light hurts its eyes.”

“Then it should just leave us alone!” Tobias snarls, loudly, hoping the sandshrew will hear him and understand somehow. They both wait, panting. Just as Tobias thinks that it’s gone, the familiar sound of digging reaches his ears.

Nia swallows, loud in the cavernous space. “M-Maybe we should just run?”

“And risk running into more ferals to deal with alongside this guy? No way.”

“B-But if we can’t see it then how can we—oh!“ Nia cuts herself off, eyes going wide. Before Tobias can question her, she closes her eyes and crouches to press her palms to the dirt, frowning in concentration.

“What’re you—“

“Shh!” Nia waves him off, frowning harder. A second later, she begins to glow blue, ever-so-slightly. The teardrops on her head lift and quiver as she concentrates. The riolu’s ears prick, and she turns her head to the right, and then to the left, eyes closed but clearly searching.

“Oh come on! You’ve had two days of aura training and you need contact for it to work! You aren’t gonna be able to track it like that!”

Nia pauses, distracted from her task, but then goes back to frantically “looking” around with closed eyes. There’s anger in her tone when she snaps, “Would you just let me try? Maybe I can at least get a sense of where it is—“

“You didn’t even know how to access your aura powers! Why should I trust you know how to use them all of a sudden?!”

Nia’s eyes snap open, and she turns on him, throwing her arms out. “Because I’m your partner! At least let me try!”

Before Tobias can reply, the ground between them bulges and crumbles. Tobias stumbles back on instinct, and a heartbeat later the sandshrew erupts from the ground. Tobias trips and falls, almost missing Nia’s pained yelp with how loudly the blood is roaring in his ears.

When he shakes his head and blinks his eyes open, he sees the sandshrew burrowing away again. Nia’s on the ground, curled around herself with her paws pressed against her side--

Oh.

Despite their argument, something in his gut flips as he reads her body language and realizes she must be hurt. Tobias is up and running to her side before he can think about it, skidding to his knees and coercing her to uncurl and lay on her back. He winces at the slick shine of blood on the black of her belly fur. Hopefully it’s not deep, but he’s sure the gash hurts. Nia whimpers between clenched teeth.

Now what? Nia’s down and the sandshrew won’t leave them alone. He can’t risk staying here to fight the sandshrew and Nia passing out completely, but he refuses to use the rescue badges unless things really start looking dire. Can he manage to carry her to the stairs for them to recuperate on the next floor?

Before he can fully decide, he hears the sandshrew digging again. Tobias snarls, stumbling to his feet and moving away from Nia. The last thing he needs right now is her getting attacked again. Sure enough, the sandshrew comes busting out the ground, aiming for Tobias. The charmander ducks under it, barely avoiding its claws.

Then in one quick movement he darts over to Nia, yanks her up to lean heavily on his side, and pulls her along with staggering steps as he takes off in a random direction. Why does she have to be the same size as him? If he could just carry her this would be a lot easier. Nia trips, and Tobias grunts, just barely managing to pull her back to her feet and continue on, praying for a staircase. In the next room a zubat dives at them, and he stumbles around the Pokémon to continue, breathing hard and desperately searching for the—

Stairs! Tobias would shout with joy if he didn’t feel like his lungs were about to explode. Tightening his hold on Nia’s arm, he sprints to the stairs, the two of them nearly diving into the hole and onto the next floor.

When they tumble out onto solid, rocky ground, Tobias takes a moment to catch his breath, staring up at the darkness of the ceiling above. Nia whimpers quietly somewhere off to his side. He struggles to his feet and goes to Nia, rolling her onto her back before digging into the supplies pouch still strapped around her torso. C’mon, c’mon, he knows they packed some...

There! He grabs an Oran berry and lifts it to Nia’s mouth, patting her cheek to get her to open her eyes. “Hey, c’mon. Wake up.”

The riolu’s eyes crack open, glassy with tears.

“Eat this. It’ll help,” he says, tapping into his medical training to try and sound calm and reassuring.

Nia whines again, but then opens her mouth and accepts the berry, slowly chewing it up and swallowing. Her head flops back onto the dirt, but she makes a grateful sound.

Tobias pulls his tail around to peer at the gash on the riolu’s torso. It wasn’t deep, thankfully, just looked worse than it was, but he still combs aside bloody, sticky fur to see the skin beginning to stitch back together all the same. Good, it’s working.

Tobias heaves a relieved sigh. Just because he doesn’t like Nia doesn’t mean he wants her to get seriously hurt or anything. The charmander plops down beside the riolu, trying to stay vigilant as her body heals itself.

Within a few minutes, Nia lifts her head, mumbling, “Ugh...That was fun.” She moves to get up, but winces.

“Take it slow. You lost some blood.”

Nia nods, carefully sitting up. Tobias hands her the second oran berry. At her questioning look, he rolls his eyes. “You need it a lot more than me right now. Just eat it.”

The riolu frowns, but does as told. Almost immediately, some of the tension in her body visibly melts away. As she comes back to herself, she blinks, then looks at him with something like surprise.

“What?” He growls.

“You…You didn’t leave me.”

Tobias bristles, baring his teeth. He’s a jerk, not evil. “What, you wanted me to let you bleed out?”

Nia shakes her head, but doesn’t look properly intimidated by his tone. If anything, she just looks…thoughtful. Ugh. That look means talking.

“Can you walk on your own?” He asks, hoping to deter her. “We’re on the fifth floor, so we should be close to the tropius.”

Nia opens her mouth to respond, only to be cut off by a distant sound, loud enough to echo throughout the tunnels. It sounds like a roar, or...a wail? Regardless, it sends chills up Tobias’ spine. He exchanges a nervous glance with Nia.

“W-What was that?” She whispers.

“After that sandshrew, I say we avoid it. Hopefully the tropius does too.”

Nia nods, and the two rise to their feet. Nia sways on her paws, holding out her arms to balance herself. She’s probably unsteady from using her aura powers and going through that rapid healing. When she’s steady, the two quietly creep away in the opposite direction of the roaring sound.

They take their search of the fifth floor slowly, more wary of dangerous Pokemon now that they’ve used up their oran berry stock. The ferals are oddly silent, hiding away in cracks in the cave walls, so while they don’t have to worry about as many fights, that’s only more reason to stay far away from whatever giant creature is making that horrible noise.

Tobias can tell the distant wails are putting Nia on edge too, and they give each room a quick, cursory sweep before moving on. Soon enough, they’ve been through every hall and every cavern they can find, aside from the tunnel leading to the loud howls that they’re avoiding. And yet, no tropius.

“C-Could the calf have moved on? Found the staircase and gone down a floor?” Nia asks. “Surely we didn’t miss it, right?”

“No, it should be a pretty big Pokémon, even as a kid,” Tobias mumbles. He takes a moment to dig through their bag and find one of their badges, clicking it on and checking their current assignment. Nope, still says floor five. “This should be the right place.”

“Oh no,” Nia suddenly says, looking stricken. “W-What if the baby is in that room? With whatever is making that sound?”

“That would be just our luck,” Tobias grumbles, replacing the badge. He glances in the direction of the wailing, shifting uncomfortably. He would really rather not go that way after they used up all their healing items, but...

“If the calf’s in there, th-then we have to help it,” Nia whispers, resolute. Still, when Tobias looks at her, he sees that her paws are shaking.

“Yeah, I know.” He cracks his knuckles and marches ahead. “C’mon, then. Duty calls.”

Nia follows him, and the pair carefully make their way closer and closer to the loud wailing. By time they reach the cavern it’s coming from, ducking just around the corner, it’s almost loud enough to hurt. Judging by Nia’s expression and pinned-back ears, it’s already painful for her sensitive hearing. 

“How should we do this?” Nia asks, almost talking at normal volume to be heard. “It’ll see you right away with your tail flame, but...”

“At least we’ll get to see what it is too, and if the tropius is in there with it.”

Nia thinks that information over, then reluctantly nods. “A-Are we just going for it, then?”

“Sounds like it.”

The two of them creep closer, and when Tobias darts into the room, flaring his tail flame to give them more light, he and Nia slide to a stop. Half-hidden in the shadowy light and rearing up in fear at their sudden appearance is the tropius calf. It’s huge, at least five or six times Tobias and Nia’s size, and it releases another panicked wail, scrambling back from the light.

Nia falls into a battle stance, and Tobias says, “Whoa, whoa, wait! That’s the tropius!”

Nia blinks at him, disbelief on her face. “That’s the baby?!”

Before he can answer the tropius cries out again, its roars pitching high and scared. The sound of something slicing through air is their only warning before razor sharp leaves fly by, nicking their skin. Nia yelps and hides behind a rock, and Tobias does the same. The tropius backs itself into a corner and starts frantically flapping its leafy wings. Huge gusts of wind blast by and down the tunnels.

“What do we do now?!” Nia shouts over the noise.

Tobias frowns. They have to get to the tropius somehow, but with it attacking like this... “Knocking it out would be the easiest option, but—"

“What?!” Nia’s voice is shrill. “No! You said it’s a baby! No way am I hurting that poor thing!”

“I said it’s the easiest option, not what we should do! Even I don’t go around smacking babies! Arceus.”

“What are you suggesting, then?”

Tobias stops to think. Even if they can’t hurt it, they still need to get the tropius under control before they can do anything. “We need to pin its wings so we can get close enough to warp it back to the guild.”

Nia shoots him a pained look. “That’ll scare it. Can’t we do something else? Calm it down or something?”

The tropius wails again, and Tobias winces, the terrified noise grating on him, making him itch to act. “You figure out the magic solution, then. I’m gonna get closer.”

“Wait, Tobias—!“

But he’s already gone, darting from rock to rock to avoid the tropius’ gusts of wind. It’s too bad it can easily track him by his tail flame in the darkness; it would be so much easier to sneak closer otherwise.

Tobias dodges another razor leaf attack by throwing himself onto his belly, and then ducks behind a cleft in the wall to avoid a flurry of wind. He waits a few moments, thinking. He doesn’t want to attack the calf, but he’s not sure how he’s going to restrain its powerful neck and wings otherwise. Maybe he could jump on its back, then warp them out right away before it has a chance to get its bearings?

Well. He’ll figure it out at he goes. Tobias sprints out and along the cave wall, lessening the wind resistance. The tropius sees him coming and cries out, blasting a powerful razor leaf at him that he just barely rolls under. He’s so close, just a bit more—

The tropius spins, clumsy in its youth but still incredibly powerful. Its tail swings around, scooping Tobias up and flinging him halfway across the cavern. He hits the ground with a pained, “Oof!” and stays there, trying to catch his breath. This is a disaster.

Just as Tobias lifts his head, looking back to the tropius, Nia’s voice rings out in the cavern. “H-Hey!”

Tobias stares as the riolu steps out from behind the rocks, body glowing ever-so-faintly with aura so the tropius‘ attention is immediately drawn to her. Before it has a chance to blast her with wind, eyes wild in the low light, Nia makes a sound like a sob.

…What?

The riolu starts crying—well, pretending to cry—with all the theatrical subtlety of a boulder to the head. She wails a pitiful sound, curling into a ball on the ground and hiding her face in her knees. She throws in a few pathetic sniffles, too, definitely too overdone to be real. It takes a moment, but Tobias realizes what she’s doing. Nothing throws a kid off more than their tantrum being countered by someone else’s. But no, there’s no way something so dumb and so simple will work, right? This is a mission, not babysitting duty in the nursery!

Yet, despite it all, the tropius has yet to blast the riolu into a wall. Instead, it’s watching Nia with wide, teary eyes, wings still and the raging wind died down into an oppressive silence. The tropius keens, sad and confused, and hesitantly steps forward from its spot in the corner of the room.

Nia continues to cry, throwing in a few literal “boo-hoos” while she’s at it. It’s overdramatic and ridiculous, and the tropius eats it right up, walking closer to Nia. It hesitates a few steps away from her, gaze flicking over to where Tobias is still lying on the ground across the room, before finally reaching Nia’s side. The baby tropius whines, nudging gently at the riolu with its snout.

Nia peeks up at the tropius, a giggle escaping her throat. The tropius coos, suddenly playful, in return. Nia sits up and reaches out a hand to pet feather-light at the tropius’ nose. The grass type rumbles a happy noise, stepping closer before sinking to the ground. Nia continues to stroke soothingly at the calf’s cheeks, murmuring words in a calming, almost motherly tone.

Tobias doesn’t dare get up and freak out the tropius all over again. Instead, he lies on the ground and watches in disbelief as Nia calms the giant Pokémon down from a monstrous frenzy to a rumbling, contented puddle of leaves and brown scales. He can’t believe that worked. He’d be furious that it worked if he wasn’t so shocked.

Another few moments to catch his breath, and then Tobias rises to his feet and carefully steps closer. The tropius slits open an eye at the approaching light, but then decides to ignore him, giving all its attention to Nia’s touch.

“I cannot believe that worked,” He says flatly.

Nia looks at him, quirking a smug smile. “I can have good ideas too, y’know.”

Tobias bristles at the condescending tone. He could’ve just as easily come up with that strategy! She doesn’t have to sound so superior about it. He growls and jams his hand into their bag to pull out their rescue badges. He nearly throws Nia’s when handing it over, and together the two of them call for a pick-up, waiting only a few moments before being teleported away, tropius in tow.

After the millisecond of nausea, Tobias finds himself, Nia, and the baby tropius in one of the psychic assistance offices. The tropius lets out a distressed noise at the sudden change of location, but before Nia can soothe it a voice thick with tears sobs, “Mirri!”

Tobias and Nia jump and step out of the way just in time for a fully-grown tropius, staggeringly huge and shaking the ground with its steps, to barrel towards the baby. The calf cries out in clear delight, and the two tropius reunite, nuzzling against one another.

Something about the loving gesture between what Tobias can only assume is the calf and their parent makes something in his chest clench and his eyes sting. He remembers being nuzzled like that, warm wings surrounding him, the scent of sunbaked stone and a comforting voice—

Tobias draws in a shuddering breath and tears his eyes away, stuffing the memories down. Nia looks like she might cry herself.

After a few more moments, the elder tropius turns to the two of them, tears still in her eyes. “Thank you so so much for finding my baby,” she says, bowing her long, graceful neck. “I’ve given the abra your rewards. May I know your names, before we leave?”

“O-Oh! I’m Nia.”

“Tobias. We’re Team Scarlet.”

The tropius smiles, still overwhelmed with emotion. “Thank you, you two. This is my son Mirri, and my name is Aari. If you ever need anything, please do let us know.”

Tobias and Nia nod and wave their goodbyes to the pair as they turn to leave, the older tropius barely squeezing her wide, leafy wings into the hall.

“They’re really beautiful, when they’re not trying to kill us,” Nia says, gaze lingering on the doorway.

Tobias snorts a quiet laugh. “Most things look better when they’re not trying to kill you.”

The charmander steps up to the desk of the abra in charge of their case, and she in turn hands him a small parcel, nodding her thanks. Nia and Tobias move into the hall, Nia already busy updating their Seeker badges and showing the screen to him when their points rise. Tobias nods, satisfied, and undoes the knot of their parcel. Inside, there’s a couple hundred poke that they’ll have to split with the guild, along with a few sleep seeds, and a medley of five or six berries. Nice haul. Tobias wraps the parcel up again and moves to head to the cafeteria for supper. Nia grabs his arm, stopping him.

“What?” He asks, a little sharply. He just wants some food and a nap, and he’s still tingling with leftover embarrassment for not coming up with Nia’s strategy himself. He wouldn’t have hurt the tropius calf, but the riolu’s plan clearly worked better than whatever he was trying to do. He should’ve thought of it first.

Nia meets his eyes, taking a deep breath and looking unusually determined. “I‘m going to Afon’s Cap tomorrow.”

Tobias blinks at her, surprised, then growls. “What? No you’re not, tomorrow’s not even our day off!”

Nia’s ears flick back, but her expression hardens. “I-I’m going, whether you come with me or not. If you come along we can get supplies or something, but I’m going either way.”

Tobias narrows his eyes, not liking the authoritative tone in her voice. Especially since things have been so tense between them lately. One good plan that wasn’t even really a plan, and she thinks she can boss him around? The only positive of going would be that Nia would finally stop badgering him about it.

…Huh.

This could get her off his back, at least. He would stay behind and let her go on her own, but he knows the sort of scolding he’d get from Maggie for that. It would not be a fun day at the guild. Maybe he just needs to grit his teeth and get it over with so they can move on with their lives.

“Why do you get to make that decision?” He finally asks, still hoping she’ll back down.

There’s a quick flash of anger in her eyes. “I’m part of this team too, a-and I figured out how to complete our mission today. Why shouldn’t I get to make a decision every once in a while?”

Tobias isn’t sure whether to be angry or impressed at the riolu’s sudden show of spine. All he knows is that he’s tired of hearing her whine about Afon’s Cap and stupid Hazel.

“Fine,” he says, still reluctant. “But I get to decide where we eat.”

Nia immediately perks up, beaming at him and clasping her paws together in a complete 180 of emotion. “Really?!”

“Yeah, whatever. Now c’mon, let’s get some food before I change my mind.”

Nia makes an excited little whoop, skipping ahead as they start their walk down the hall. Tobias groans and tells her to slow down, tucking the parcel under his arm and resigning himself to his fate.

At least he’ll get a good meal out of the trip.

May the Dread Wolf Take You

Solas - Dragon Age: Inquisition

Synopsis: All you want is to be able to forget the man who broke your heart and left you behind, and although it’s easy enough to distract yourself during the day … the task is much harder at night when all you have is the darkness and your dreams.

Your eyes opened fast and sudden, like the crack of a whip, but just like the time before and the time before that, you were not awake. Ever since your run-in with the ancient Elven God that left you with a shattered heart, crushed hopes for the future, and one less arm, you had been having the same dream over and over again. This night was no different. It always started the same.

You found yourself lying flat on your back among the luscious green grass and fallen leaves of the forest floor. Despite the many waking hours you had spent trying to figure what this forest was and where it was located—or if it was even real or not—you were still no closer to finding out any details about this mystery location that had become such a popular location in your subconscious.

By now, you knew the events of this dream like the back of your hand. You followed the unwritten script the same way you had every other time. Once or twice you had tried to deviate from the seemingly pre-programmed series of events, but it never worked. Now, you followed along like an obedient servant, hoping to get the twisted form of emotional torture over with so you could wake up as soon as possible.

Digging your fingernails into the ground, you pushed yourself up with both of your arms—a luxury you only afford while in this dream. You had no idea why he had chosen to allow you both of your arms here (the anchor missing from your left palm), but you took it as an act of kindness; a small gesture of remorse.

The breeze was chilly and crisp like always, but you weren’t cold. Moving through the trees and thick foliage, you located the small, barely noticeable path that led you further into the forest, but instead of the environment growing darker with the tightly packed greenery, it became lighter, like you were walking toward the sun. 

The first few times you had experienced this dream, you had taken the time to inspect the brightly coloured flowers growing from the bushes and listen to the birds singing high in the canopy of trees. Now, however, you pushed forward, already knowing what to expect. 

Your ears perked at the sound of running water in the distance and even though you knew exactly what you were going to see when you rounded the bend in the path, an anticipatory shiver still ran up your spine. No matter how many times you ambled through this repeating fantasy, this part always struck a chord in your heart; like you were experiencing it for the first time, every time.

With your hair blowing gently in the wind, you turned the corner and came upon the lake that marked the spot. It was always here where he came to you. 

Your eyes scanned past the impossibly blue lake, squinting slightly at the way the bright light that seemed to shine from everywhere and nowhere all at once glimmered off of the water. The peaceful sound of running water was loudest here, and as you peered up at the top of the small waterfall that continuously flowed into the lake without ever overfilling it, you saw him there.

The wolf stared down at you, its piercing blue eyes giving the colour of the water a run for its money. It stood, perched upon the uneven rocks at the top of the waterfall, its fur ruffling the same way your hair did in the breeze.

Every time you opened your eyes and found yourself back in that damned forest, an untamable rage filled your entire body. You hated him for the way he had treated you; for telling you he loved you and then leaving; for bringing you here night and night again so he could soothe the guilt he felt … the guilt he caused with his own selfish actions.

But then you would hear the waterfall and feel the warmth of the all-encompassing glow on your skin … and then you would see him and the rage would rush out of you. Those piercing blue eyes would melt away the dam of your emotions and all you wanted in that moment was to see him again … to talk to him again … to hold him again.

And just as that feeling reached its unbearable crescendo—just when you thought your overwhelming emotions would start ripping you apart from the inside out—the dream would end.

As you felt the agony building into tears that spilled from the corners of your eyes, despite how much you tried to fight it, you closed your eyes and waited for the moment when the sound of the waterfall would fade away and the warmth on your skin would turn cold. You waited for the part when you woke up in your bed … alone.

You waited and waited … but it never came. The sounds of the forest never faded. The warmth never chilled. If anything, every stimulus that kept you rooted in the dream was growing stronger. You were almost afraid to open your eyes. You had never experienced this part before. The dream always ended.

The comfort of knowing what to expect was gone.

You were terrified.

“It’s okay for you to open your eyes.” His voice was soft and smooth, just like you remembered. “It’s just me.”

You drew in a shuddering breath. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” you confessed. 

“Ma vhenan. My heart.” You felt him take his hand in yours and your heart dropped. The feeling of his skin on yours, even in such an innocent way, was nearly suffocating. You thought you wanted this. Didn’t you want this?

Slowly, you cracked your eyes open. It was him. It was really him, standing in front of you. Not Fen’Harel. Not the Dread Wolf. It was the Solas you had fallen in love with, the jawbone hanging from his neck and everything. 

This time, you didn’t fight the tears. “Why?” Your voice was broken and barely audible. “Why do you keep bringing me here?”

“To see you,” he answered matter-of-factly. 

“But I usually wake up by now,” you said. “Why aren’t I awake?”

Solas took a small step closer, his chest inches away from yours when he filled his lungs with the cool air. “I couldn’t stand just seeing you anymore. I had to hear your voice. I had to … I had to remind myself that what we had was real.”

Your lip quivered. “Was it?”

“Yes.” He seemed hurt by the implication. “I told you that I would never forget you. I intend to keep that promise.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.” The words left your mouth before you even had the chance to filter them through your brain. Solas was taken aback. “I … I wish you would just decide one way or the other instead of whatever this is … because I can’t keep doing this.”

“Ma vhenan, I did not intend-”

“Life isn’t like your precious Veil, Solas. You can’t drift in between loving me and leaving me. You need to choose because this … this is hurting me.” You pulled your hand from his and backed away. It was the hardest thing you had ever had to do, but you knew it was what was right. “As beautiful as this place is,” you gestured to the forest, “this is my own personal hell. Seeing you almost every night and not being able to be with you is hell.”

Solas was silent before hanging his head. “I wish it were that simple.”

“It is.” You dried the tears from your cheeks and approached him again, cupping his face with your hands and pressing your lips to his ever-so-softly. “I’m sorry,” you whispered against his mouth. “I wish it could be another way.”

“Can’t it?” He seemed unwilling to give up so easily.

“Not like this,” you said. “As someone very wise once told me … perhaps in another world.”

“Why not this one?”

Somehow, the roles of the relationship had reversed and you found yourself taking on the stoic facade that he always wore so well. Suddenly, you were back with him two years previous. Your mind flashed with snapshots of the past. The overwhelming feeling of deja vu filled your being. 

Oh, how you wished you had met him in any other life but this one. 

“Should you change your mind, you know where to find me,” you told him as you ran the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone. “But I can’t come back here anymore. Please don’t bring me back here.”

Solas closed his eyes as pushed his head into your hand. “May the Dread Wolf take you.”

You smiled, knowing exactly what Solas meant when he said that. Unlike its usual purpose, this was not a condemnation. This was something so much different and deeper and personal.

“And so he did.” 

LoL Chapter 43- Remember

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Finding Mumbo isn’t the only challenge facing the hermits. They need to remind him who his family really is. 

_______________________________________

“....i….a….n….? Gri…..Grian!” Iskall’s voice, tainted with fear, breaks through the empty unconsciousness that gripped Grian. He winces, pain shooting through every nerve and muscle of his being, his heart aching and fingers numb. xB is hovering over him, bending water to ease the pain and electricity that still runs through his body. Jevin’s slime runs across the burns that lightning has left behind. In the air, a faint scent of burnt chicken permeates around Grian. 

He sits upright, terror ricocheting and intertwining with the pain in his body. Despite the horrible pain of electricity conducting through him, and the Forest of Memories using his proclivity for pain to drag him deeper into despair, his first worry is Mumbo lost in the woods.

Mumbo’s a city boy. He doesn’t know anything about the wild. Even if he’s just lost, he could fall down a ravine, or get caught in carnivorous vines, or hunted by a beast. But this isn’t any forest- this is the Forest of Memories, haunting him with his past, his fears. And haunting him with what just happened. 

But it’s not just that Mumbo is from the city. He also knows his best friend's brain will turn his memories, his thoughts, his actions against him. It couldn’t have been any other hermit, one that wasn’t so insecure about their position among the guild, their ability to be a mage. It had to be Mumbo, the newest, the most fearful. It attacked him knowing he saw himself as the weakest link. And it made him believe it, see it. 

“We have to go after that spoon.” Grian states, standing. He wobbles like a newborn shleep, falling to his knees. 

“Hold up, Grian. You literally just had 300 million volts use your body as a lightning rod, I know you’re the guild healer and all but you can’t go running after him.” Cleo holds him down, keeping him from trying to run off into the woods. “Grian stop! You can’t run off on your own, or the Hangman’s Playground will turn your thoughts against you. We’ll go together.” 

“How will we even know where he’s gone?” Keralis questions, reaching out to pet a shleep that had wandered into the clearing. The second the bug mage’s fingers sink into the galactic wool, red bolts of static zap him with a yelp. 

“I think he went that way.” BDubs points, seeing other shleep going to the east, static bolts of red energy dancing between swirls of starry fur. Zed is positively delighted to have the company of the shleep in the terrifying forest, and he makes sure to keep the ruminants spirits high to help with the sanity of the rest of the group. 

Iskall helps Grian to his feet, letting the angelic being rest lean on his shoulder, his friend stumbling along with the group. Joe casts a spell which enchants a compass that Wels had, pointing the direction of Mumbo. Though the poem rhyming ass with compass was a bit much. 

The longer they spend within the Forest of Memories, the longer it’s effects linger and worm their way through their defenses. Stress’s amulet shatters, breaking in a burst of darkness. Immediately, the memories of her life before the hermits flood back in. She ignores the laughter, the empty parties and emptier people, running forward and grabbing another amulet to protect herself. They’re all fighting off their own demons, but the knowledge that Mumbo may be fighting his alone keeps them moving forward. 

Ren tips his head up, sniffing the air and wagging his tail. “I smell a change in the air, I think we’re close.” 

“You can’t possibly smell Mumbo, he’s not that stinky.” Iskall jeers, pushing a copse of brambles out of the way. 

“It’s not Mumbo I smell- it’s his magic. It smells like ozone.” Ren disappears through the green foliage, though his tail gets stuck on the way out. He yanks it free a few times. 

“Why would magic smell like oz-” Iskall’s cut off when he gets his answer. A bolt of lightning burns the grass at his feet, red lightning branching and crackling through the sky. 

Grian let’s go of Iskall, stumbling forward. “Mumbo…” 

Hovering in the air, surrounded by bolts of lightning striking at random intervals and places, the multi-mage is lost within his own magic. A power surge, fully realized, and well beyond Mumbo’s control. He was alone, with no one to calm his fears, to help him reign in his magic. Mumbo’s eyes are open, though glowing and crackling with energy. His arms hang limp, his feet at least a meter off the ground. 

Mumbo’s in a power surge. TFC tries to step closer, but with every forward step any hermit takes, they’re forced to retreat two lest they be struck down like Grian was. He’s not even conscious enough to realize what he’s doing. And the surge is getting stronger. Lightning begins to burn the trees around them, setting the wood on fire. The shleep that were following Zed scatter, their wool turning a misty black. 

“He’s going to destroy everything!” Beef warns, jumping back and stomping out a fire started by the lightning. 

“He’s going to destroy himself!” Xisuma adds. “But how in the world are we going to get close enough to talk him down?” 

Iskall and Grian look at one another. They’re Mumbo’s best friends, if there’s anyone that could bring him back to reality, it’s Iskall and Grian. The architechs. Iskall casts his magic, his own radioactive iskallium negates the energy of Mumbo’s magic, and Grian wraps his arms around Iskall and flutters into the air, within shouting distance of Mumbo. He struggles with his wounds, but refuses to drop Iskall. At least, not this time. “Mumbo? Mumbo!” 

Grian’s shouts fall on deaf ears, the hollow form of Mumbo possessed only by magic. Iskall and Grian look at one another, then back at Mumbo. “Mumbo, look! Grian’s fine, it’s not the worst wound he’s ever gotten, you know that!” 

“Mumbo, I know you think we don’t want you.” Grian ducks, his hair standing on end as a bolt of lightning nearly hits him again. “But that’s not true! You’re a part of this family, you’re a hermit! We aren’t like other guilds, we aren’t like your parents were. I asked you to join us because you were fun, and unique, and different. That’s what this guild is for.” 

“You’re so strong Mumbo, because no matter how many times things don’t seem to work out, or your magic is just out of reach, you still keep trying! We all admire how no matter what happens, you still get right back up and try again. I mean, Grian and I have mega thrashed you before, and you just stand up and go for it again!” Iskall notices Mumbo’s eyes blink, and the loud roar of cracking lightning and thunderous roars begin to deafen. 

“Yeah, Mumbo we know you’re strong! You’ve beaten us before, and we’re two S-class mages! But we also understand your struggle. We see how hard you work.” Grian floats toward the ground, following as Mumbo’s feet touch down on the grass. Iskall kneels beside Mumbo, Grian wrapping his wings to coo and comfort all three. “Mumbo, we want you around. You are a hermit and you are a part of this family.” 

“You aren’t our weakest link, man. You’re our best friend.” Iskall breathes. He watches Mumbo blink once, then twice, and on the third time they can see his grey eyes once again. The last of the lightning fades away, Mumbo collapsing into his friends’ arms. 

“I’m so sorry, I hurt you.” Mumbo whimpers, turning his head. Embarrassed to look at Grian. He hurt his best friend. He could’ve killed all the others. 

“You know me, Mumbo.” Grian chuckles. “Nothing can keep me down for long.”

The other hermits join the architechs on the ground, reminding Mumbo how much he means to them. How he’s made their lives better, brighter, more fun. 

And the Forest of Memories can’t hurt them. 

The dark shadows lurking in the foliage instead show the dappled light of the sun through the trees. Rather than focusing on the negative, they see the light. Sunshine burns away the voices of those who wish to tear each hermit down. Doubtful family members, cruel guildmasters, even the voice of Magistrate Dolios himself is eradicated by the group’s sentimentality of each other. 

Instead, the Forest begins to play the best moments of their times together. Mumbo and Grian meeting, Team ZIT meeting TFC on the side of a road, the day Cleo beached her ship on an island that should never exist. Days spent basking in the sun, too hot to train, playing on the beach and in the waters of the Ashioll sea. Cheering on and betting during duels, but always there for both the winner and the loser. Training feeling more like play with the hermits, dinners are bright and happy even in the dark, the island flourishing with life during festivals as the hermits grow excited. Even when it rains, they can be the happiest days on the island. Huddling close to warm fires with mugs of cider, blankets wrapping around friends. Playing in the puddles, dancing in the rain, enjoying every second of their lives. 

They’re a family, though not by blood, but by choice. A family that nothing, not even the Hangman’s Playground, can tear apart.

Remember that HLVRAI Coraline AU? Here’s the thing I wrote for it.

Original idea came from me, @lady-lampblack, and @sbpstudios

This is also really old and I’m now finally finishing it. Some things have changed since the initial post because I had ideas.

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

Joshua hadn’t wanted to move. 

He’d liked his house and his friends and his school and hadn’t wanted to leave. But his dad had calmly explained that while he didn’t want to leave either, his new job was in another state. And while his dad hadn’t said it outright, Joshua knew money was tight. He’d heard his dad talking about not having enough money to keep the house when Gordon had thought Joshua was asleep. 

Barney had offered to help, but Gordon had gently turned him down, pointing out that Barney had his own things to deal with. A security guard’s salary could only go so far and Gordon didn’t want Barney sacrificing his own health and safety just to help him.

So, they’d moved. 

Joshua, his dad, and his dad’s roommate. 

Joshua sat in the back of the moving truck, staring up at the ceiling while he listened to his dad and Benrey argue. 

“We’re seriously not gonna have wi-fi for the whole weekend? That’s lame, dude.”

“Look, I couldn’t get anyone to come out any sooner. And it’s only for one weekend.”

“Lame, bro.”

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to do. That’s just how it’s gonna be.”

“Are there gonna be other kids at our new house?” Joshua asked, getting up so that he could look at Benrey and Gordon. Benrey was playing on his PSP while Gordon drove the moving truck.

Even if he had to move halfway across the country, maybe he could still manage to make some cool new friends.

“I dunno, bud,” Gordon admitted. “The landlord mentioned that he doesn’t usually rent to families with kids, so...probably not.”

“Oh.” Joshua’s face fell and he allowed himself to slump back onto the floor of the truck.

“I’m sorry, Joshie,” Gordon said, glancing back at his son.

Joshua said nothing. It wasn’t fair. The last time they’d moved, it had only been to another city, but it had still been hard. He’d been yanked away from his friend and had to make new friends. And now he’d have to make new friends all over again. 

“You’ll still have us, little man,” Benrey said, looking over his shoulder at the little boy slumped on the floor. 

“It’s not the same,” Joshua mumbled. “I wanna have friends my own age.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Joshie.”

Joshua said nothing else for the rest of the drive, curled up in a little ball.

Benrey and Gordon continued to talk off and on. Although it sounded like arguing, Joshua knew that was just the way the two of them were. They’d been this way for as long as he could remember. He knew his dad and Benrey cared a lot about each other, they’d lived together Joshua’s whole life after all, but neither of them seemed willing to admit it. Which made no sense to Joshua. He didn’t get why they didn’t just admit they liked each other. But then again, Joshua didn’t get a lot of stuff about grown-ups. 

He ended up falling asleep, only being woken up by his father announcing that they were there. Yawning and rubbing his eyes, Joshua sat up and peered out the windshield. Immediately his eyes widened. 

The building before them looked like something out of a historical drama, aside from the fact that it was all painted bright pink. It was massive, with what Joshua saw as towers, tons of windows, and a huge porch. 

“That’s our house?” Joshua asked, his voice hushed in awe. 

“Well, kind of,” Gordon said. “The house got converted into apartments a while ago, so we’re going to be living in one of the apartments.”

Joshua was briefly disappointed, but it didn’t last long. Apartments meant there would be other people, so he wouldn’t be alone. Plus, the house was in a wide open area so he could run around all he wanted.

“Can I look around?” Joshua asked, bouncing up and down. “I wanna look around!”

“Sure, just give me a second to find the landlord-”

But Joshua wasn’t listening. He’d heard ‘sure’ and had run with it, scrambling over the seat and Benrey to get out the door and onto the lawn.

He took off across the grass, eager to explore everything about the apartment complex. He’d never lived in an apartment in a house before! However, in his excitement, he failed to notice the man emerging from basement apartment. Before either knew what was happening, Joshua had plowed right into the man, knocking them both to the ground. 

“Joshie!” Gordon yelled, running after him. “Don’t go running off like that!” He knelt down and helped the man up. “I’m so sorry.”

“It-It’s okay,” the man replied with a smile. “I wasn’t looking where I was go-going either.”

The man was tall, even to Gordon, which meant that he looked like a giant to Joshua. He was wearing what could only be called “dad clothes”, his attire consisting of a loud Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, and socks and sandals. 

“You’re really tall,” Joshua announced.

The man blinked, then laughed. “I get that a lot.”

“So...do you live here?” Benrey asked, peering past Gordon.

“Not...exactly?” The man laughed again. “I-I’m the landlord.”

Gordon’s face went as pale as it was conceivably able to. Benrey put a hand on Gordon’s shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. 

“What’s a landlord?” Joshua asked loudly, still captivated by this strange man.

“It means he owns the building the apartments are in.” Gordon’s voice went up an octave. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Coolatta, I-”

“It’s alright,” the landlord cut him off with a reassuring smile. “And yo-you can call me Tommy.”

“Oh, uh, okay, Tommy?” Gordon laughed nervously. “It’s...Um...It’s nice to meet you?”

“You-You too.”

Joshua was getting bored sitting there. He wanted to keep running and exploring, not listen to the adults talk. So, he began to look around while his father and Tommy continued to talk.

Benrey stepped out from behind Gordon, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants. “So, uh, Feetman said-”

“Don’t call me that in front of our landlord!” Gordon hissed, swatting at Benrey’s shoulder.

This didn’t seem to deter Benrey in the slightest as he kept going. “Feetman said you didn’t rent to people with kids. Why’d you let us in?”

"We-Well, you just seemed so desperate,” Tommy replied. “It did-didn’t feel right to turn you away.”

“Thank you again, Mr. Coo- Tommy,” Gordon quickly corrected himself. “I really appreciate you letting us rent here.”

“It’s no problem,” Tommy assured him.

“So, uh, how much do I owe you for the first month’s rent?” Gordon asked, digging out a notepad. 

As the three adults began to hash out the first rent payment of the month, Joshua spotted a flash of black in the bushes. Curious, he crept over. As he got closer, a cat emerged from the foliage. It was a slender tuxedo cat, its fur sleek and glossy. It almost looked like it was wearing a little suit with the way its fur was patterned. It looked up at Joshua with piercing blue eyes that almost seemed to glow. 

Joshua reached for it, transfixed by its gaze. There was a strange intelligence to the way it looked at him. As if it were somehow....human.

“Joshie!” 

At the sound of Gordon’s voice, the cat turned tail and ran, disappearing into the shrubbery once more. 

“Joshie!” Gordon repeated. “We’re going to start unloading the truck!”

“You gotta stake out your room or else we’ll steal the best one,” Benrey added with a grin. 

“Hey! No fair!” Joshua protested. 

He ran back to his father and Benrey, the cat momentarily forgotten. 

Tommy, however, watched the bushes with a solemn expression. As the three new tenants began to unload their belongings, he disappeared into the woods outside the apartments, following the lead of the cat.

.

Joshua spent the next few weeks meeting the other residents of the Pink Palace. 

Downstairs were Mr. Bubby and Mr. Coomer. They were married and had been in the circus together when they’d been young. Bubby was constantly boasting about his fire-breathing act and often still attempted to set things on fire, much to Tommy’s dismay. Coomer was still incredibly buff, even at his age, and could often be found chopping wood for Bubby to use in his little arson attempts. The whole fire thing was enough to make Gordon wary, so Joshua mostly only visited them when Gordon didn’t know about it. 

Upstairs was Darnold. He was a high school chemistry teacher, although he didn’t want to do any cool experiments with explosions. Still, he was pretty fun to hang out with because he knew a lot of cool stuff about science. Even if he didn’t want to do explosion experiments, he was still happy to lead Joshua in some safer ones. Joshua got dropped off at his apartment a lot to be babysat while his father and Benrey worked because Darnold was the most normal and stable of the other tenants. Not to mention it was summer, so Darnold didn’t need to be at the school.

Next door was Forzen, who Joshua had only seen once. He was an ex-soldier and a bit of a shut-in. Joshua had been told to leave him alone. 

And then there was Tommy. Tommy lived in a different house away from the Pink Palace, coming by every day to check on everyone. He was by far the coolest person Joshua had ever met, aside from Darnold and his dad and Benrey, and his dog was awesome. Sunkist was big enough for Joshua to ride! Tommy had let Joshua ride her a few times and it had been amazing.

But as awesome as Tommy was, there were certain things about him that were...strange. Whenever he thought other people weren’t watching, Joshua had noticed that his expression became strangely solemn. And he always seemed sad whenever he was around Joshua, even though he tried to hide it. 

Not to mention, Joshua had seen him talking to the cat he’d seen on his first day at the Pink Palace. It always happened on the outskirts of the property, with Tommy crouched down and the cat half-hidden by the bushes.

“Whose cat is it?” Joshua asked Darnold one day after he’d been dropped off at the man’s apartment for the day.

“I’m...not sure what you mean,” Darnold said, looking up from the vegetables he’d been cutting. He was making a stir fry for both of them for lunch, which meant his usual bowtie and sweater vest combo had been removed and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows. 

“There’s a cat I see sometimes. It’s black and white and it’s got these really pretty blue eyes,” Joshua explained. “Whose cat is it?”

Darnold hummed, frowning slightly. “I don’t think it really belongs to anyone. It just....” He gestured vaguely with his free hand. “Lives in the woods and shows up sometimes. No one’s sure where it came from. Tommy takes care of it sometimes, though.”

Now it was Joshua’s turn to frown. “So you don’t know anything about it?”

“Nope.”

“Uuuugh.” Joshua groaned, sinking down on Darnold’s couch.

“Sorry.” Darnold smiled apologetically.

“Well, do you at least know why Mr. Coolatta doesn’t let people with kids live here?” 

“Also no.”

Joshua groaned again, sinking further into the couch.

“I always figured it was due to some safety hazard,” Darnold said, returning to his cutting of vegetables. “Although, Bubby and Coomer say that that rule was in place even when Tommy’s father owned the place.”

This piqued Joshua’s interest. The first thing that ran through his mind was that there was some sort of conspiracy going on here. Some hidden secret. 

Maybe it had to do with the weird door little he’d seen in the living room. The one that led to a brick wall and was only opened with a key shaped like a button. Gordon had figured it had probably connected the room that was their living room to whatever the correlating room in Forzen’s apartment was and had been bricked up when the house had been made into apartments. A simple enough explanation. But Joshua didn’t quite believe it.

Something was going on here.

Joshua had to find out what it was.

This turned out to be harder than Joshua had expected. Darnold didn’t know anything about the door or the rule, as he’d learned, he couldn’t talk to Forzen, and when he’d asked Tommy, the landlord had reacted rather strangely. 

“Oh, w-well, you know,” Tommy had said with a nervous laugh. “Sa-Safety hazards an-and all that. Oh, would you lo-look at the time!” He’d then turned and absolutely sprinted away, not even answering the question about the door.

Which left Bubby and Coomer. 

Joshua stood at the top of the stairs leading down to their apartment, a notebook clutched to his chest. Both his father and Benrey were out at work, so no one was there to stop him. Taking a deep breath, he marched down the stairs and knocked on the door.

Almost immediately, the door was opened, revealing the beaming face of one Doctor Harold Pontiff Coomer. Coomer was not a tall man, but he was a big one. He looked like a teddy-bear come to life while wearing long-sleeves. But when those long sleeves came off, one could see properly how Coomer was built like a brick wall.

“Ah, hello Joshua!” Coomer said brightly.

“Hello, Mr. Coomer,” Joshua said, drawing himself up to his full height, which was not all that tall. “I’ve got some questions I wanna ask.”

“Questions?” Coomer repeated, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“Mm-hm!” Joshua nodded resolutely, holding his notebook to his chest.

“What sorts of questions?” Coomer asked. 

Joshua was about to answer until Bubby’s voice came from deeper in the apartment. “Who is it?!”

“It’s Joshua!” Coomer called back without missing a beat. “The boy from upstairs!”

“He’s still alive?” There was some shuffling and Bubby appeared, wearing a faded blue bathrobe and squinting at Joshua over the top of his incredibly thick glasses. 

“Why wouldn’t I be alive?” Joshua asked.

“There’s a monster here that eats kids,” Bubby answered matter-of-factly. “Would’ve thought it’d have put its little feelers out by now.”

“A monster?” Joshua’s eyes widened, all thoughts of the little door gone.

“Yeah, why do you think they don’t rent to kids?” Bubby folded his arms. “Monster. Eats kids.”

“So Mister Tommy knows?” 

“But of course!” Coomer replied. “His father never let him come near this place when he was a child for fear young Tommy would be snapped up!”

“And there’s no way Greg didn’t tell the kid about it when he took over running the place,” Bubby added.

Joshua nodded, scribbling this information down. 

He’d known something was going on! 

“What do you know about the monster?” Joshua demanded, his face screwed up in adorable determination.

“Not much.” Bubby shrugged. “It’s weird, it eats kids, got a thing for buttons I think.”

“It lures you in by giving you everything you could possibly want.” Coomer’s expression was suddenly dark, his voice low and solemn. “It grants your heart’s deepest desires and then it steals away everything that makes you you. It eats your life and drains your soul until there is nothing left but an empty husk.”

There was a long pause as both Bubby and Joshua stared at Coomer. 

“Jesus Christ, Harold,” Bubby finally said. 

“Or so I’ve heard!” Coomer’s bright expression and peppy tone immediately returned. “So don’t go following any strange button-eyed creatures!”

Joshua nodded slowly, clutching his notebook to his chest like a safety blanket.

Thankfully, his attention was drawn away by the sound of his father’s voice. “Joshie? Joshie where are you?” 

“I gotta go,” Joshua announced, looking back at Bubby and Coomer. “Thank you for your valuable information.”

“Don’t get eaten!” Bubby yelled after him as he ran away. “You see any spider looking fucks, you set them on fire!”

Gordon was standing on the porch in front of their door, looking slightly panicked as he scanned the lawn to see if he could locate Joshua. Benrey had a hand on Gordon’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb in circles on Gordon’s shirt. Gordon visibly relaxed when he saw Joshua running up. 

“There you are, bud.” He knelt and opened his arms, allowing Joshua to run into them. “You had me really worried. I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Joshua mumbled. “Just wanted to ask Mr. Bubby and Mr. Coomer some stuff.”

“What kinda stuff?” Benrey asked, leaning against the doorframe. 

“I wanted to know why Mr. Tommy doesn’t let people with kids live here,” Joshua said. “Mr. Darnold said it’s been that way since Mr. Tommy’s dad owned the house.”

“And did they have an answer for you?” Gordon asked as he picked Joshua up. 

Joshua lit up, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah! They said there’s a monster that eats kids and that’s why Mr. Tommy and Mr. Tommy’s dad don’t want kids here!”

“That’s an interesting story,” Gordon said with a somewhat unsure smile.

“If there’s a monster, why’d he rent to us?” Benrey asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Tommy did say we seemed desperate.” Gordon’s smile slipped a bit.

“It’s okay, Dad.” Joshua put his little hands on the sides of his father’s face, staring at him with an adorably determined expression. “If I meet any monsters, I’ll kick their butts.” 

Gordon blinked, then laughed softly and kissed Joshua’s forehead. “Of course.”

“I’m a cowboy! I’ll kick their butts!” Joshua insisted as Gordon carried him inside.

“Hell yeah you will.” Benrey agreed, following them inside.

Gordon sighed, although he couldn’t help but smile while he did. “Don’t encourage him, Benrey.”

Dinner that night was spaghetti, which Joshua couldn’t help but complain about a little. It was just noodles and store bought sauce, both of which were rather bland. 

“I’m sorry, bud.” Gordon smiled wearily. “I’m just kind of tired.”

“You’re always tired,” Joshua grumbled, sinking lower in his chair. 

Gordon got very quiet after that. Benrey immediately jumped in to fill the silence with his rambling about PlayStation, but Joshua could tell he’d struck a nerve. 

That night, after he was supposed to have gone to bed, he crept to his bedroom door to listen to his father and Benrey talking from the living room. 

“I’m a horrible dad,” Joshua heard Gordon mumble. It sounded like he’d been crying. “I’m ruining his life and he’s going to hate me when he’s older.”

“You’re doing the best you can, bro,” Benrey replied.

“But is it good enough?” Gordon demanded. “You heard him! I’m always tired!”

“Yeah, well, busting your ass 24/7 is gonna do that to you.”

“I’m not giving him the kind of life he deserves, Benrey! He’s only eight and we’ve already had to move twice!”

“You’re doing the best you can,” Benrey’s voice grew soft, barely audible through the door. “And even if you can’t always be there, he knows you love him, Gordon.”

There was a loud sniffle, likely from Gordon. 

“Thanks, Benrey.”

“No prob, dude. Now.” The creak of someone, presumably Benrey, getting up from the couch. “I’m gonna go get you some water and check on the little dude, okay?”

“Okay.” 

Joshua scrambled to get back in bed, hiding under his covers to pretend he was sleeping. He could hear Benrey’s footsteps coming closer, then the door opening. Joshua laid as still as he possibly could, trying to keep his breathing even.

There was a beat of silence, then, “I know you’re awake, kiddo.”

“How’d you know?” Joshua popped up.

“You and Gordo snore real loud when you’re actually asleep,” Benrey said as he leaned on the doorframe. He’d turned on the lights, illuminating the room and his smirk.

“I do not snore,” Joshua huffed, folding his arms and pouting. 

“Sure, kiddo.” Benrey strode into the room. “Now, it’s past your bedtime. You gotta sleep now.”

Joshua laid back down, continuing to pout as Benrey tucked him back in. 

“Why don’t you and Dad get together?” He asked after a moment. 

Benrey froze, hands hovering over the blankets. “.....Huh?”

Joshua stared up at him, his expression earnest and full of youthful sincerity.

“I know you guys like each other,” Joshua said. “So why don’t you get together?”

“It’s...complicated, little man.” Benrey started playing with the tassels on his hat. 

“But you guys love each other!”

“Your dad’s been hurt by people he loved before.”

Joshua fell silent. 

He knew exactly who Benrey was referring to.

Joshua knew virtually nothing about the man that was his other biological father. All he knew was that Gordon and this man had dated and the two of them had wanted to have a child together. Joshua. But when Joshua had actually been born, the man had skipped down, leaving Gordon alone with his newborn baby. 

“Shifty bastard’s lucky I haven’t seen him since he pulled that stunt,” Joshua had heard Barney say once to Benrey after Gordon had gone to bed. “Otherwise I would’ve kicked his teeth in.” 

The Calhoun brothers had a lot of feelings about Gordon’s former partner and absolutely none of them were positive, although they tried not to talk too much about him while Gordon was around. 

Joshua himself didn’t particularly care about the man and seldom spared him a passing thought. Except when his dad was in pain. Then he thought about the man and wondered why he would leave Gordon all alone like this. 

“But you’re not like him,” Joshua insisted. 

“That doesn’t mean he’s not gonna be scared,” Benrey said, his voice soft. “When you’ve been burned like that...The fear never goes away.”

“So...Is he just gonna be miserable forever?” Joshua started to tear up. He didn’t want his dad to be miserable.

“Not forever. He just needs some time. He’ll be okay, I promise,” Benrey assured him, ruffling Joshua’s hair. 

“...Are you gonna make sure he’s okay?”

“Yep. I’m kinda like a superhero, y’know? Keeping your dad safe from the shadows.”

Joshua giggled at Benrey’s attempt to look cool, his fears assuaged for the moment.

“Sleep well, bud.” Benrey kissed Joshua’s forehead and exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Joshua rolled over in bed, snuggling up under his blankets. Soon enough, he was fast asleep.

He was awoken hours later by what sounded like claws scrabbling on hardwood. He sat up, looking blearily around. The room was dark and the house was quiet. Aside from the claws on the wood, that was.

“Dad?” Joshua called out. “Benrey?”

There was no response. 

Frowning, Joshua picked up the flashlight he kept next to his bed and put on his cowboy hat. His cowboy hat always made him feel braver. He crept into the hallway, shining his flashlight around. The sounds seemed to be coming from the living room.

The living room where the teeny door was. 

Joshua walked a bit faster, sliding into the living room. There, in front of the little door, was the cat he’d seen outside. And a rat. A rat made of...cloth? The cat had the rat in its mouth, shaking it about as if trying to break the rat’s neck. In its own mouth, the rat clutched the button key to the door.

“Kitty? What are you doing in here?” Joshua asked, walking over to the cat.

The cat’s head snapped around to look at Joshua, and he got the strongest feeling that it was telling him to go back to bed. It was the same look that Gordon or Benrey gave him when they were very tired and really wanted him to just listen to them. Joshua took an instinctive step back. He hadn’t thought a cat was capable of such a human expression.

The rat took advantage of this shift in the cat’s attention to wriggle out of its mouth and through the little door with the key. Which was now open.

“Wait! You can’t take that key!” Joshua yelled, chasing after the rat without a second thought. “It’s not yours!”

The cat’s eyes widened as Joshua darted into the strange passage beyond the tiny door. It quickly followed after him, the door swinging shut behind them.

The tunnel beyond the door was.... strange. Joshua wasn’t sure why he felt like this, but he felt like he was crawling through the throat of something large. It felt....alive. He shook his head and tried to move faster. 

Soon enough, he reached the end of the tunnel, pushing out into the room beyond. 

“Umm...Hello?” Joshua stuck his head out of the doorway. It looked exactly like the room he’d left. Except...he could hear someone humming. Frowning, Joshua pulled himself out of the tunnel and got up, following the humming toward the kitchen.

Outside of the living room, the house looked different. It looked...He wasn’t sure how to describe it. It just looked...brighter. More welcoming.

“Hello?” He asked, pushing the kitchen door open. 

There was a man in the kitchen. He had his back to Joshua and was humming while he chopped something on the counter. Upon hearing Joshua enter, he turned around, revealing....

“Dad?”

The man who looked like Gordon smiled warmly. He looked almost identical to Joshua’s father, with a few key differences. This man was far more put together than Joshua was used to seeing Gordon. His orange sweater and brown slacks were immaculate, and his hair was fluffy and swept back in neat ponytail.

And he had black buttons where his eyes should have been. 

“Joshie!” The man who was not his father said, in a voice exactly like Gordon’s. “You’re just in time for dinner, bud!”

“You...You’re not my dad,” Joshua stammered, backing up. 

“I’m your Other Father,” Not Gordon explained. “Now, could could you go tell your other Other Father that dinner’s ready now?”

“My....other Other Father?” Joshua repeated weakly.

“He’s in his study,” Other Gordon said, already turning away to start presumably plating the food.

“Okay.” Joshua nodded, turning away. He still had his flashlight clutched tightly to his chest.

He wasn’t sure what Other Gordon had meant by “study”. They didn’t really have a study. The closest they had was the designated game room, which Benrey did spend a lot of time in. So, Joshua headed there.

As he got closer to the game room, he could hear the sounds of a piano being played. Joshua frowned slightly at this. The closest thing to an instrument he’d ever heard Benrey play had been a kazoo, and that had only been to bother Gordon. Although, he had heard Barney mention once that Benrey had wanted to be a musician when he’d been younger.

When Joshua opened the door to the game room, he was greeted with the sight of another Benrey sitting at a piano. Like Other Gordon, Other Benrey was far more put together. He was wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a blue vest, black dress pants, and a blue bowtie. His hair was slicked back against his head, as shiny as the blue buttons that constituted his eyes.

“Hey there, bud!” Other Benrey grinned upon seeing Joshua. “What’s up?”

“You can play the piano?” Joshua whispered, eyes wide with awe.

“Don’t need to. It plays me.” Other Benrey said with a wink.

A pair of gloves on mechanical arms emerged from the top of the piano, the gloves slipping on to Other Benrey’s hands and spinning him around to begin playing. Joshua almost dropped the flashlight as he scrambled forward to get a better look. It was incredible to watch Other Benrey’s fingers fly across the keys, even if it was mostly due to the gloves. 

“That’s so cool!” Joshua exclaimed when Other Benrey had finished. 

“Glad you think so, little man,” Benrey laughed, ruffling Joshua’s hair. “So, what can I do for you?”

“Oh, uh, he said to tell you that dinner’s ready,” Joshua replied, placing his cowboy hat back on his head.

“Oh hell yeah! I’m starving!” Other Benrey grinned, getting to his feet and scooping Joshua up in his arms. “We better not keep him waiting, huh?”

Joshua nodded. The anxiety he’d felt upon seeing the Other Gordon had calmed a bit with this Other Benrey, who was every bit as silly and comforting as the Benrey Joshua knew.

Other Benrey carried Joshua to the dining room, where Other Gordon was dishing up pancakes. 

“Pancakes for dinner?!” Joshua’s eyes lit up as he was set down in his chair. 

Pancakes for dinner was a rare occurrence at their house. Gordon and Benrey were always too tired to make pancakes most of the time.

“Of course,” Other Gordon said with a smile. “This is a very special occasion, which calls for a very special meal.”

“Hope you remembered the fruit, babe,” Other Benrey laughed, snaking an arm around Other Gordon’s waist and kissing him on the cheek.

“How could I forget? It’s your favorite part,” Other Gordon replied, playfully swatting at Other Benrey’s shoulder. 

“You’re together?” Joshua asked, voice small but hopeful.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Other Benrey asked. “We love each other. 

“And we love you,” Other Gordon continued, smiling softly down at Joshua. “We’re so glad to have you here.”

Joshua couldn’t help but smile. After everything that had been going on lately...This was exactly what he’d wanted. 

Gordon and Benrey happy together, not tired or overworked, paying attention to him.

He almost didn’t want to go home. 

Flowers For A Shinobi

Chapter 4: A Lead

Word Count: 2,803

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x OC

Previous Chapter & Archive of Our Own Link

Outside the office windows, the once clear dusk sky had morphed into an inky canvas of grey clouds. Behind them, the ominous moon ached for a chance to glow beyond the veil of overcast. Beyond the opened glass pane, the leaves of the trees ruffled in the wind. In the distance, an owl hooted. How quickly night had fallen. 

Ayame stood behind the tall shinobi she had agreed to assist. His haste and determination to find as much information as he could had brought them before the Hokage. Despite the presence of the most powerful woman in the village, his shoulders were slumped to their default state of indifference; his slender hands shoved deep within the fabric of his pants.

She stared at the back of his neck as he explained to the Hokage his findings so far. Staring at the back of his head was the only thing that was keeping her heart rate at a reasonable pace. From this close, she could notice the different strands of color that made up his silver head of hair, light strands, and dark strands, all curling ever so slightly at the nape of his neck from the sweat of the day. His headband was tied tightly around the top of his head, supporting his unmanageable hair to lay in a state that practically defied gravity. 

Her ears tuned into the conversation, listening to the man everyone called Kakashi as he explained everything to the Hokage. He referred to her as a citizen. And she was a citizen, but that didn't mean she wasn't like them. She looked up at the two, watching them and wondering what it was like to serve your village by means of protecting it instead of just trying to make money for it.

Despite growing up in a clan that possessed chakra control, Ayame had admittedly never really been associated with shinobi until she uprooted herself and moved to Konoha. The first shinobi she met were the Yamanaka's, and even then, she only spoke to them concerning the floral shop. Of course, she had friends, but they were all regular citizens with everyday tasks. The butcher, the librarian, the ramen shop owner’s daughter who bore the same name as her. It wasn't as though Ayame purposely avoided shinobi, she just didn't have reason to associate with them. 

Now, she was surrounded by them. Capable, strong men and women that had taken an oath to defend Konoha with their lives. And here she was, an average, or a slightly above average, citizen. 

"I understand this sounds like an improbable solution, but so far, it is the only one we have if we are still resolved on a medicinal herb being the main ingredient for an antidote," Kakashi offered, his voice sounding troubled. 

Leaning over, the Hokage looked past the brooding shinobi to Ayame. Flustered by her intense gaze, Ayame stood up straight in confidence and untied her fingers from their web of anxiety. 

"This is Ayame Hana," Kakashi gestured to the young woman, her braid falling forward as she gave the Hokage a respectful bow. "She comes from the Rōtasuagekure, the Village Hidden in the Lotus in the Land of Grass. We discussed them recently, if I recall correctly." 

"Yes, I remember," the Hokage nodded, assessing the villager. "That village no longer exists under any governing rule, yes?"

"Yes, m'lady," Ayame responded, her fingers trifling with the fabric of her skirt.

"And you are a citizen of Konoha now, yes?"

 Ayame nodded, "I became a Konoha citizen two years ago." 

Despite the rumored age of the Hokage, her appearance did not give away any indication of such. Her amber eyes narrowed in suspicion, her lacquered lips a thin line.

"Why did you come here to become a citizen?" Tsunade questioned, threading her fingers at her chin. 

Ayame did not take offense to the question despite it coming from a place of distrust. Others had asked her this question daily the first few weeks she resided within the walls of Konoha. It didn't bother her anymore. 

"As you said, m'lady, my village - or my birth village - no longer exists as it did when I lived there," Ayame's eyes met the Hokage's, confident in her answers. She had nothing to hide. "But the reason I am here, as Kakashi-san said, is because I was once injured by what seems to be the same poison your infantry members are battling now. I feel I can help."

"You were poisoned and you're still alive, are you not?" Tsunade countered, "How did you survive? If you are a citizen, do you even hold the same nature of chakra we shinobi use?" 

"If you will let me explain," the words tumbled from her mouth before she realized what she was saying. Beside her, Kakashi's eye swiveled in her direction, impressed but slightly uncomfortable as he adjusted his weight to his other foot. 

"My clan was murdered as a result of this toxin," Ayame explained somberly. "I lost all of them. It is just me now. Which is why I came here, anew." 

"I understand why you would come here," Tsunade responded carefully, "but if you do not have the same variety of chakra us shinobi have, I do not see the benefit of continuing this conversation. We need an antidote that will work for our bodies and our amount of chakra." 

"My bloodline does have the same chakra that you do," Ayame's hands fell to her sides, determined to express her point. 

"You are not a shinobi," Tsunade replied defiantly.

"I am not a 'shinobi,' but I do possess chakra and I can control it," Ayame answered, her eyes flickering over to a plant that sat perched in the corner on a stool. The plant's leaves were browned around the edges from neglect, its soil thirsty for water. 

"I can show you," taking a deep breath, Ayame took a  few steps towards the stool that held the small plant. Judging by its state, she assumed it hadn't been watered in a few weeks. The sunlight from the windows was barely enough to keep it alive. 

Kakashi turned to her, his thin eyebrows knitted together as he watched her. Tsunade sat back in her chair, turning with another skewed eyebrow of skepticism. 

"Please, Hana-chan, if you -" 

Something dismissed the Hokage’s words as she trailed off. Ayame could feel them both watching her as she picked up the potted plant, focusing as she turned back around. Lifting it to eye level, she hung her hand over the leaves. A bead of sweat dripped from her brow as the brown foliage rustled in its pot, green epidermis overtaking the listless edges. Within a few moments, the plant stood straight, its soil moist and leaves bright. 

She looked up, her eyes meeting Kakashi's for a moment. His eyebrows were raised in bewilderment. He turned his head to look at Lady Tsunade, his expression smug.

"As I said, I am not a shinobi by your terms, but I can manipulate and grow plants with my chakra. In my clan, we were not taught to use our skills in offense or even defense as your village does. It was exclusively used as a tool for the village to prosper. My clan was the only one in our village to possess more chakra than the average citizen. Thus, we were able to grow plants at will." 

A few beats passed of silence. No one spoke as the owl hooted again in the distance. Feeling her body warmed by the exorbitant amount of energy she had just focused, she could feel sweat dripping down the back of her neck. 

"This changes things," Tsunade nodded, her demeanor shifting as she looked back at her desk. She shuffled a scroll in front of her as Ayame leaned down to replace the plant. 

The sweat that dripped from her brow moments before fell to the floor as she suddenly felt the ground shift beneath her. Tripping, she leaned a hand against the wood-paneled wall. The voices in the room began to resonate in her ears as merely a muffled set of noises. 

"Are you ok?" Ayame felt a firm grip on her upper arm, pulling her up as she felt knees give way beneath her. Looking up, her eyes crossed as her blurred vision focused on the white blotch of hair that moved in front of her. She heard him move the plant she had placed back on the stool and guided her to sit. 

"Sit her down- she looks like she is going to faint," she heard Lady Tsunade say, closer to her now. The sound of paper fanning her came before the cool air. "Her complexion is pale." 

"Ayame," Kakashi called, bending a knee to be eye level with her. 

Taking a deep breath, Ayame could feel herself coming to as Kakashi dipped his head to fix his gaze with hers. She lifted her head from the wall, shaking it to brush off the dizziness that enveloped her. As she looked up, she realized his hand was still gripping her upper arm, gentle yet firm enough to keep her in place. 

With reality piecing itself together around her, she felt a current shoot up her spine at the moment as their gaze intertwined. Warmth spread to every cavity in her body, her ears feeling hot. In her chest, her heart did a rhythmic dance against her ribcage. She was unsure if its pounding was from her heart trying to reroute the blood back to her brain or from the intensity of a single charcoal eye that bore back at her. A second passed, then two. His eyebrow fell, his gaze softened. If she wasn't mistaken, she thought she might have noticed a change in the color of the skin on his cheekbones.

“Are you alright?” Tsuande asked her from behind Kakashi, using a sheet of paper to fan her. She looked between the two, her eyebrow cocked. 

He blinked and the moment fled. 

"Yes," she said finally, nodding slightly. His hand fell from her upper arm, its warmth leaving her skin feeling cold. She felt silly for blushing like a child. 

"I'm fine. I'm sorry - I haven't -" she tried to explain, but Tsunade’s sharp tongue cut her off, bringing her back to the subject quickly. 

"You say your clan had more chakra than a normal citizen. This would make them exemplary candidates to be shinobi," she heard Tsunade say, her arms crossed across her heavy chest. "But if that is the case, why would bringing a simple plant back to life cause you to faint?"

Instinctively, her hand went to her side, where her healed wounds resided. His eye followed her hand, settling there as she looked over at Lady Tsunade. 

Trying to process her questions, Ayame looked over at the Hokage. "This is the aftereffects of being poisoned by the Tsukamu root.”

"Tsukamu root?" Tsunade lifted her head.

"Yes," Ayame took a deep breath. "The aftereffects of this poison permanently deplete your chakra levels. I was hit three times, so my levels are  severely deficient. As you can see, this is what happens when I try to use them." 

"The poison comes from this Tsukamu root?" Kakashi asked.

Ayame paused for a moment, thinking. She imagined the menacing, gray vine of thorns that twisted under the soil of her clan's small district in their village, pricking the unsuspecting victim's skin.

"The Tsukamu root is a vine of thorns that grows underground," Ayame explained, looking up at him. "It is meant to be stealthy and was a forbidden jutsu in my clan. I won't explain to you the history of how I was poisoned, but all you need to know is that it was intentional when it happened to me.”

"We believe this was an intentional attack on our village as well," Tsunade commented. "How could it happen to all nine men?" 

Ayame shook her head, "There was a group of individuals in our village who were hell-bent on destroying my clan. The person who was responsible for creating these poisonous thorns is dead now. You have nothing to worry about." 

Kakashi lifted his chin, surprised by her words, "dead? So you believe this wasn't deliberate?" 

Ayame nodded, "if I am right, and I truly believe I am, the only person who could create this type of jutsu was - was my brother. But as I said... he is dead." 

Her words hung in the air between them. In Kakashi's mind, he pieced together what she was saying. She had purposely been poisoned by her brother, as was her whole clan. She stared at him, feeling uncomfortable with the energy she had created in the small office. They needed to know that this wasn't the same as what had happened to her years ago. She was positive he was dead, unable to cause more harm. 

"This has to be the leftover remains of his thorn jutsu," she explained, standing up. She tidied her skirt, brushing off the dirt of the day's works at the Yamanaka flower shop. She tried to appear unbothered by everything. Kakashi took a step forward, surprised she could stand after nearly fainting only five minutes beforehand. 

"The only antidote I know is the Iyasu flower. It is what I used once I realized had been infected," Ayame looked between the two of them. "It is a secret scroll technique passed down generation to generation that is used only in my clan for medical instances such as this. It produces a field of these flowers that can be mashed up and prepared into a serum to drink. I would imagine that there still may be scrolls hidden on my clans compound if they weren't looted for money after --" 

She trailed off, watching as Tsunade quickly went behind her desk to look at some papers. 

"The Iyasu flower," Tsunade repeated, her finger trailing down a scroll that seemed to house a long list. "It isn’t on the list of plants Sakura has tried so far. I have never heard of it. That isn't to say you are fictionalizing it, but I don't think I can send one of my best shinobi and a villager on a wild goose chase for a scroll to a fallen village in the Land of Grass."

"M'lady," Kakashi interrupted, stepping forward. Tsunade looked up, and the two exchanged an intense gaze for a moment. Ayame could tell the tensions in the room were high. Time was quickly ticking away, and there was not much that could be done if this didn't work. 

"The wounds Ayame showed me seem almost identical to the ones present on Yamato and the other shinobi. I don't think we are incorrect in following this path." 

"We have three days, Kakashi," Tsunade reminded him, "three days, and those men will be dead. This - this Iyasu flower, even if we do get the scroll, Ayame is the only one who can use it. And if that is the case, we're doomed from the get-go. Look at her, she can barely bring a plant back to life." 

Ayame's ears began to burn, her stomach twisting in embarrassment and anger. The Hokage wasn't wrong, but her words stung. Even if the scroll were found, the amount of chakra needed to create the amount required would put her out for days, if not permanently. 

"I will do it," Ayame said quickly, "I don't care if it kills me. This is the first opportunity I have as a Konoha citizen to help, and I am more than willing to do so. Allow me this opportunity to serve, m'lady." 

Tsunade looked over at her, her amber eyes intertwining with two jade ones. Unsure of what else she could say, Ayame exhaled quietly and gave another bow. 

"I agree," Kakashi said suddenly behind her. "I think we should give this a chance. Herbal medicine was a lucky shot to begin with. Let's take what is being offered to us." 

Tsunade looked between the two, thinking deeply. Outside, the rain began to hit the window pane melodiously. One, two, three - almost sounding like the tempo of a song. The only noise in the room. 

"Fine," Tsunade sat down in her chair, the wheels creaking as she sighed heavily. Placing her head in her hands, Ayame could tell the Hokage was clearly overwhelmed. It seemed that this was the only lead they had to save these men and women. If not for Kakashi and Ayame's serendipitous encounter in the floral shop, the Hokage would still be searching for a lead. 

"Leave at dawn," she said finally, looking up at the two. "And return next day at dusk. No later. Now go get some rest." 

* * * * * * * * * * 

A/N: I’ve been thinking of the plot of this story in my head for years now. I hope it isn’t too complicated so far. I may know what’s going on, but I have to remember that everyone else may not lol That being said, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! <3 

datura (moth!bruno x butterfly!reader)

—–

A/N: I made more art! You might have already seen it though lol Anyways this chapter got longer than planned but I really wanted to Bruno and reader to do some things before Summer ended.

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Reader is gender neutral!

----

[Late Summer]

The crowds along with the heat had become more tolerable recently, which you were glad for. Now you were able to gather as you usually did, instead of going out to the forest clearing with Bruno every couple nights. 

Part of you will miss it but you need to spend your energy on making up for lost time. It would get cooler from now on and slowly the flowers would start to die out.

You wonder how long your Daturas will last. The last time you flew by the area, the shrubs they grew on looked greater in size and there seemed to be a few more flowers so you could guess they would at least survive the beginning of Autumn.

“Do Daturas last through the fall?” you ask Bruno. It would be best to make sure.

“Yes, so no need to worry about not being able to get your nectar." 

“Okay, that’s what I was hoping. Now I don't need to panic-gather." 

You relax on the arm of your daybed. "Honestly, I should have asked earlier but guess it slipped my mind.” 

“You know, it’s actually quieter in our usual Datura spot now.”

You sit up. “For real? We should go then.”

“Right now?”

“Why not? I need to catch up!”

Bruno raises a brow. “But you have more time.”

“Why do it later when you can do it now?”

 “...I guess I can’t argue with that. And it wouldn't hurt to start saving up.”

With that, you’re off the daybed and heading to your bedroom to find your bags.

When you return you hold out a satchel for the moth to take. “You can borrow my canisters. I don't want you to go home empty handed.”

“Thanks. I'll make sure to get these back to you quickly.”

“It's cool. I have a bunch of extras. I don't even know how I let myself collect so many…”

You did know, but you didn't want to admit that every time you saw one that was a color you liked or had a nice design, you couldn't stop yourself from getting it.

“Okay, let's go!”

Tonight the moon was fully out in the clear sky so you decide to not bring your lantern along. As long as you stay near Bruno you should be okay. 

The both of you walk through the path you’ve taken several times, however it is even more narrow than the last. You couldn’t even walk next to each other. 

Having fewer flowers will be sad but at least the foliage will finally back down when it gets colder.

When you finally reach the end of the path, you're shocked by what you see. The Daturas have spread a lot since that last time you were here. 

You and Bruno fly above the thick layer of dark leaves that had pretty much over taken the area. Before you could at least get to the grass if you wanted but now you can't even see the ground anymore.

"They grow so fast!"

"Be cautious, there could be creatures hiding in the leaves. It’s unlikely but we shouldn't get careless.”

Heeding his warning, you stick close to your friend while you both gather. It must have kept you focused on your task because you're done quicker than you expect. Bruno notices this too. 

“Didn't do any of your taste testing?” 

“Not being able to see through all the leaves is a little worrying I guess.” 

You fiddle with your satchel strap. You would usually try to sit around after gathering but you were ready to go back home. 

“Want to head back then?”

You nod and you both fly back down to the path.

“You know--isn't it weird that we could just get attacked at any time,” you ask Bruno as you walk behind him.

“Well that's just nature.” Bruno answers unbothered. “Are you scared?”

“No, it just sucks that one moment you could be standing around unsuspecting and then the next you're in another creature's mouth! You don't even get a chance to fight back." You grimace. "Nature’s kinda cruel….”

“It can be, but there are definitely good things about it too.”

“Of course there are, like the flowers. Everything else can leave though.”

“Even me?”

You deadpan at the back of his head. “You know what I mean Bruno. Just the dangerous things, I can trust you not to hurt me.”

“But even those things have a role to fulfill and keep everything in balance.”

“Ugh, stop being reasonable.”

Bruno smiles over his shoulder at you and you can’t help but feel he’s being cheeky with you. 

“And sometimes the things you think are dangerous can also surprise you...”

“Huh?” You weren’t sure what he meant by that.

The moth doesn't respond immediately, and you see consideration flash on his face before he turns away.

“You remember the wasp I mentioned knowing?”

“Oh my g--” You stop yourself before you say anything rude. “...Yes.”

“Well, he's actually one of my closest friends.”

Your eyes widen and you can't stop yourself. “B-But, they eat us.”

“Well actually it's their young that does that, but this wasp lives on his own.”

It wasn't unheard of for colony type bugs to live on their own but It was somewhat rare so you’re still a little surprised. 

“Oh...He’s the loner type?”

“I guess you could say that. So he doesn't have to do the ‘killing and delivering the body to the nest’ drill. I think that's actually the main reason why he left."

“I mean...I guess that's good? For us at least.”

“But you see what I mean?”

“Kinda, but I don't plan on trying to befriend any insect killers anytime soon.”

Bruno nods. “That’s fair. I know our relationship is strange.”

You try to gather your thoughts before speaking. The moth didn't seem upset but you wanted to make sure.

“I won't lie...I-It freaks me out a lot, but I do think it's kinda neat that you befriended someone that would be seen as an enemy. And as long as you're safe I can’t really complain.”

“I am. I’ve known Abbacchio for years now. He can be cold at times but underneath that he’s extremely loyal and has a good heart. And if you decide to get to know him you’ll see it too.”

So that’s his name…

You also wanted to introduce Bruno to your friend so you would feel rude if you immediately dismissed the idea, even if Abilene and Abbacchio weren’t exactly on the same level. And this wasp managed to gain Bruno’s trust and respect, so he had to be safe. 

“You don't have to. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You start to fiddle with your bag strap again. This was definitely something you couldn’t agree to on the fly. “Maybe one day…? I’m not sure yet.”

“That’s completely fair,” Bruno replies, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “Just let me know if you ever want to.”

You weren’t sure if you would but you nod. 

"Let's hurry, I'm getting thirsty."

----

While Summer was finally drawing to a close, Bruno finally managed to get you in the same area as a pond. He said it was one of the best times in the year to visit and when you arrive, you’re glad that he convinced you to come along. 

The moonlight reflects off the pond and lights the area. You see various bugs hanging around, singing and dancing, and enjoying the last of the season. Some of them are even flying surprisingly close to the water. 

However, the fireflies are tonight's stars as their warm glow turns heads and sparkles on the water’s surface. 

It was lovely. Maybe even more so than the forest clearing. 

While you stare, enthralled, you notice the bright red flowers growing out of the pond practically demanding for your attention. 

“I see you’re eyeing the Red Flare Lilies,” Bruno says. “Still nervous about getting near the pond?”

”I am but I didn’t know there were such pretty flowers growing out of it...”

“Then we should get a closer look, yea?”

You want to but hesitate. The last time you got close to a pond you almost became a meal.

“What's wrong?” 

“Nothing.” Your eyes might be playing tricks on you, but you’re sure you see the surface of the pond ripple near one of the flowers. 

“Okay, I might be a little freaked out! What if there’s frogs?”

“It's not impossible, but if anything, you should be more worried about fish--”

You groan. “You should have just lied to me.” Any urge to go had been wiped away.

“Well it’s a pond so there’s no point pretending, but you didn’t let me finish. This pond mainly carries small fish and no one has ever reported encountering frogs here so it should be safe.” 

Even with that explanation, you still aren't sure. That was something that could change at any time.

“If you don't want to, I can just go out for you?”

“B-But look at all the lily pads and frogs can move super quickly! I’m not going to send you out there for nectar I could get anywhere.”

No matter how tempting that flower looked it wasn't worth it. Being an insect meant constant danger but you took the necessary precautions to lessen that danger. But ponds--they were just too dangerous. It honestly baffled you seeing those bugs getting close to the surface willingly.

Bruno looks concerned, which makes you force yourself to relax your shoulders.

“Sorry--”

You're interrupted by some bugs in the distance yelling out Bruno’s name to greet him. A few of them actually come over to properly say hi, and you stand silently to the side as they surround him excitedly. 

You aren't really surprised that he’s popular. He could be charming when he wants to be. It's a little awkward standing there though.

 “Where have you been Bucciarati?” A fluffy moth asks.

Bruno opens his mouth to reply but a young cricket--you think--latching onto his arm speaks next. “I missed you! The other adults never want to play with me,” they pout.

A beetle speaks right after. “How’s Narancia been?”

You watch and listen while Bruno tries to handle the small group before looking back out to the pond, but before you can zone out, someone asks about you. And for some reason, Bruno introduces you. 

You feel stiff with all these eyes on you suddenly. You were definitely not prepared and you’d get the moth later for this.

“I've never seen a nocturnal butterfly...” the child stares, looking confused.

“Oh no, I should actually be asleep right now--”

“I love your wings!” the fluffy moth compliments.

You smile slightly. “T-Thanks, um...” 

The group was excitedly talking at you and it was hard to keep up. Fortunately you don’t have to say much more because Bruno shoos them away shortly after.

You release a breath. “Okay Mr. Popular, warn me next time...”

“Me popular? Hardly." He smiles slightly, looking apologetic. "And sorry, I didn't think anyone would actually come over. Let’s go sit down.”

He leads you to a quiet spot where the grass isn’t as wild and overgrown. And you both lounge on a rock to look out at the pond and insects.

“This place is beautiful.” 

You lean back on your arms, no matter how hard you tried, your gaze would always drift back to the Lilies. 

“Even the pond.” 

“It is. Especially with all the fireflies.” The way Bruno sounded, it was different but you couldn't place your finger on why. You glance over and he looks a little sad? Wistful?

You feel as if you saw something personal. 

“I know right! I’m kinda jealous.”

“Why?” 

“Well other than it looking pretty, they can just light the way with their bodies. I kind of wish I could do that too. It would be pretty useful.”

“But your diurnal.”

You almost laugh at the moth’s response. “Maybe I should become nocturnal then. I'm already part way there."

All these nightly escapades with Bruno were starting to eat into your usual sleeping time causing your days to get shorter. You'd even find yourself waking up way past noon sometimes.

“Okay then I'll become diurnal in your place so I can collect from all the day flowers for you."

You purse your lips. “Hmm, I don’t think you'd be able to handle the switch. You’d probably fall asleep randomly even more than you already do.”

“In my defense, I have a little one constantly waking me up when I'm trying to catch up on my sleep.”

You giggle. That was a valid point. 

"How much sleep do you even get?”

Some days you could see a hint of exhaustion on the poor moths face when he came to visit you.

“I wish I knew.”

That answer was definitely worrying. A sleepy bug is a vulnerable one.

“You’re not sleep deprived and just really good at hiding it, right?” 

“Don't worry. The elders near me like to take Narancia off my hands when I get too tired or when I need to go somewhere. I honestly think they want to adopt him for themselves,” Bruno chuckles a bit.

"But you probably wait until it gets pretty bad don't you?”

"...What is considered pretty bad?"

The lack of a clear answer confirms your statement, but you’re not exactly sure what to do about it yet so you decide to let it go for now. 

"Nevermind," you sigh and continue watching the bugs glide across the water. 

“I really thought the flowers would have tempted you onto the pond,” Bruno brings up suddenly.

“D-Did you want me to go?”

“Not exactly. I was just hoping you would see there were good things about it.”

“I did say it's pretty but anything related to frogs is bad.” You say it without really thinking but when you see the slight look of disappointment you wish you could take it back.

“I’m sorry, I just--” You take a breath. You'll just be honest. “...I might have done something stupid when I was younger. Now I just stay very cautious around giant bodies of water. But don’t take that the wrong way, I’m still happy you brought me here!”

He nods, understanding.

“You come off as really carefree and careless a lot of the time, especially when I first met you. It kind of makes me worry."

You're unsure why he brings that up but it wasn’t too surprising. You wouldn’t say it outloud but you did still do some things that Abilene and Bruno would probably not approve of when you were alone. But it wasn’t anything too bad. Well not to you anyways.

“At least now I can take comfort knowing that you probably aren’t doing anything more dangerous than staying out late,” Bruno says.

“Most likely, so you don't need to worry about me--just think relaxing thoughts,” You bump your shoulder into Bruno and he gently bumps you back with his elbow. 

“I don't think that's possible, especially with that answer.” 

Bruno turns to you when he notices you're staring at him without saying anything. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just have a feeling you and Abby will get along well.” 

----

You were pouring and mixing nonstop the last couple of the days. This was it--this was one of your last couple of chances to bake. Eventually the weather would drop too low in temperature and you wouldn't be able to do it again until next Summer or late Spring if you're lucky.

“Is this really necessary?”

You invited Bruno to help you, but he was mostly watching you go into a baking frenzy at this point.

“Is this necess--Yes!” You mix even harder, slightly frustrated. The batter wasn’t as thick as it should be and you weren’t sure why. You just hoped you didn’t completely ruin this batch of cookies.

“Was that supposed to be my voice--Nevermind,” Bruno sighs. “You're not even eating most of what you’re baking and I don't think I can eat anymore either.”

“Just take the rest with you and give it to Narancia.”

“That's still way too much. Aren't you tired? You should take a break.”

You finally put down the wooden spoon you were using to look at the moth. 

“Maybe I went a little overboard, but I just want to try so many things and there's so little time.”

“A quick break won't hurt though.”

“Sure.” You reach for the handle of the spoon. “But let me just finish this--”

“That's what you said the last time.”

“....Okay, okay.” You place the spoon back down and head towards the dining table where Bruno’s sitting. 

“But only for a moment.”

Even though you were being stubborn, you really were exhausted. You had lost count of how many things you baked all together but it must have been a lot since you had probably visited most of your neighbors at least twice. You hadn’t gotten the hang of treats low in sugar yet, but when you did Abilene would be on the list too.

Spreading your wings, you stretch your arms above then outward.

“You really do have lovely wings.”

You force your wings down. "...Where'd that come from?"

You were doing your best to not overthink but it was much harder said than done. The moth had to be messing with you bringing that up so suddenly. 

“I think I always knew but it was pointed out recently.”

What does that even mean???

“Then--well you have nice wings too!” You want to shift the attention from yourself but it didn't mean you weren't being honest. 

You move to get behind the stool Bruno’s sitting on for a better look at his wings and partially to avoid his piercing gaze, but he looks over his shoulder at you.

“I really like them--the shape, the pattern. They really suit you!"

You internally cringe from how that compliment came out, but there were times where you did want to touch them. Fortunately, you keep that part to yourself.

His wings slightly shift. “Thank you.”

There's slight frustration from how coolly he takes your compliments. One day you'll finally fluster him.

You sit down across from him and lay your head on the table. “It's kind of cool that wings come in so many different shapes and colors...I actually know someone who has these cool transparent wings. I thought she was a butterfly but turns out she's a moth."

“Are you talking about Mrs. Joestar?”

You slightly lift up your head to look at Bruno. “You know her?”

“I met her recently. She's very lively for her age."

“I know right! She keeps teasing me too,” you pout. “Her husband’s even worse!”

Bruno smiles, a playful glint in his eye. “Because you make it so easy.”

“…Don't turn against me, I’m begging you.”

“I'll think about it.”

“Urgh, whatever.” You rest your head back on the table. “Anyways, doesn't she really look like a butterfly?”

“Yes, if I hadn't seen others like her before I probably would have thought so too.” 

“Hmm, butterflies and moths are pretty similar to be fair. We have to be descendants of the same things….” 

Eventually, you find yourself shutting your eyes while you're prattling off to Bruno about viable ancestors. You tell yourself you'll just rest them but when you open them next you're in your bed under your covers and Bruno’s gone.

You sigh once you realize what happened. That moth got you.

You force yourself out of bed once you remember the cookie batter sitting out. It was too late to cook it now so you would just have to put it away for tomorrow.

When you walk into the kitchen, it's cleaner than when you left it and a box of baked cookies are sitting where the bowl once was.

You smile and grab one. They came out better than you hoped.

Fit For A King {Katsuki Bakugo}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! I really want to thank the anon who mentioned they were interested in seeing a fantasy AU fic which got me to organize my ideas and come up with this story. I hope you like it and would love to hear your thoughts!

Boots hit heavily on the forest floor as the two men ran through the foliage dodging trees and trying not to slide on dew-soaked leaves. Their lungs burned and their breath came out in labored pants but they couldn’t stop, not with the shouts of the rogues pursuing them growing steadily louder.

“We can beat them from the sky if you shift!”

“I can’t, they got me across my back and if I shift before it heals my wing will be mangled! We have to fight them on the ground, Bakugo!”

The blonde grimaced. A twelve-on-two close combat fight was absolutely one they could win even without Kirishima’s ability to shift but the problem lie in their location; his magic, his strongest ability, would end with the entire dense forest burning to ash right alongside the men after them if he tried to take them all down at once.

“What’s our plan? We can’t run forever!”

“I know!” he snarled.

Being more familiar with the forest and on foot they had an advantage over their pursuers on horseback, but they would need to face them eventually and if his explosions were their best option that meant they needed a wider area. They were coming up on a small clearing only a dozen or so meters wide, not ideal but for the circumstances it would have to do.

“When the trees open up we fight. I’ll blast as many as I can as they file in, the forest is too dense for them to be spread out enough to surround us.”

“Got it!” Kirishima said with a nod, and they pressed on.

The greenery around them blurred but they knew the area, knew where they were and when he trees parted into a clearing they turned and took their fighting stances.

Rustling behind them made Bakugo’s eyes widen and as he began to move he heard a crack to his left and Kirishima was falling to the grass, eyes closed. When he registered the rogue smirking he gritted his teeth and sent a thundering explosion to his face, making the man pitch backwards and startling his horse enough to run off.

Bakugo realized he was going to be alone in this fight, their foresight to use the clearing not accounting for the fact that maybe the rogues knew the forest too, but he knew he could win if he continued his explosions to the other eleven pursuers.

He crouched down to move an unconscious Kirishima against a nearby tree so he wouldn’t be caught in the melee, and when the rest of the rogues appeared he sent blasts towards the first three that entered the clearing. They too fell to the ground and their horses dispersed, but no more breeched the tree line for several moments.

Until one single man on horseback burst through the branches, and as the blonde prepared his magic once again the silver tip of an arrow split open the skin of the rogue’s neck, piercing his throat easily and beginning to pour blood. He weakly clutched his neck and slumped sideways as the horse continued its gallop through the clearing and out of sight, Bakugo jumping back to press his spine against the rough bark of a tree to avoid the falling body.

“What the…”

The snapping of a twig had him looking past the fresh corpse to find a cloaked figure before him, a golden bow held at the ready. The hood was pulled far forward to shield their face as they scanned the area—they were ready to strike but realized by the silence that the enemy had been taken down.

Another silver tipped arrow glinted in the morning light as they relaxed their grip and slid it into the quiver on their back. It was then that they noticed the two men against the trees, approaching cautiously.

Bakugo stared them down, still unsure if he would need to explode their face like he had done the rogues. The cloaked figure stopped in front of him and regarded him quietly. The tip of the bow was placed beneath his chin and he growled, swatting it away.

“I don’t need coddling. The hell’s your name?”

The stranger said nothing, only cocked their head to the side which shrouded their face even further in shadows.

“I asked you for your name,” Bakugo repeated, pushing off of the tree and advancing toward them. His hands let off subtle pops and sparks, a small threat of what would come if he continued to receive no answer. “Tell me your damn name!”

Before he could come closer three arrows were pointed at him that, if fired, would pierce his neck, chest, and lower stomach. He froze, furious that this stranger had the audacity to threaten him but well aware of the deadly accuracy they held.

“Do you know who you’re fucking threatening? I’m Katsuki Bakugo, dragon master and next in line as leader of the Bakugo clan!”

“My sincerest apologies for assisting a barbarian prince in the first place if his thanks is to become aggressive,” a feminine voice sneered from beneath the hood.

His scowl morphed into surprise, not expecting a woman to be the cloaked stranger. Skilled female warriors were essential to his culture, his own mother a perfect example, but these lands were dangerous for anyone travelling alone and she didn’t appear to have a companion. Bakugo himself travelled with Kirishima as a second set of eyes to watch for rogues who would linger at the border of the Todoroki kingdom and the ungoverned wilderness.

“Don’t look so shocked, prince. I know your wildling women can fight just as well as your men. My skill should not surprise you.”

“I’m only surprised you’re reckless enough to travel alone,” he replied honestly, mindful of the arrows still aimed for vital areas. “Even I have the dragon with me.”

“Fair bit of good he did you here, eh?”

Bakugo glared at her. “He was injured when they ambushed us and the cowards hit him over the head when we got ready to strike back, but you’d probably know that much. Now you gonna lower those arrows or what?”

There was a long pause before she slowly lowered her bow and tucked the arrows back into her quiver, taking a tentative step back. She allowed the hood to fall back and expose her face for the first time, expression stoic as she said her name.

“Why are you travelling alone?

She strung the bow across her body easily before answering. “I’m going to the ports at the edge of the barrens to find a ship sailing to the western lands.”

“Why the west? You’re already in lawless territory,” he said, eyeing Kirishima’s still slumped form.

She followed his gaze and her features softened. Rummaging through her cloak she pulled out a dark purple pouch and moved to kneel in front of the redhead, holding the pouch below his nose. Kirishima’s face pinched and he turned away, his eyes blinking open as he groaned. She asked his name, and though it took a moment, he was able to answer with a slow exhale.

“Who’re you?” he slurred.

“The one with a good shot,” she chuckled, taking his hand to help him up. “I recognized the ones after you as you passed my campsite, so I followed and took aim. I’m just glad you’re alright aside from your back. I have healing salve if you’d like some.”

He smiled and thanked her as Bakugo snapped, “As if we need your help!”

She rolled her eyes as she found the salve in her cloak and handed it to the redhead. “Then I shall take my leave, prince.”

“Bakugo!” Kirishima chastised. “Stop being so rude to her, we should be grateful!”

He snatched the salve from him and spun him around roughly to help apply it. “Grateful?! A lone stranger inserting herself into our fight is nothing to be grateful for!”

“You’re all alone?” Kirishima asked her, frowning when she nodded. “These aren’t lands to be travelling alone. Where are you headed?”

“The southern ports. I’m going west.”

“We’re going that way! The tribe’s village is a few days’ trek from the shipyard so you can travel with us!”

“LIKE HELL SHE CAN!”

Ignoring the blonde’s outburst, she shook her head. “I appreciate your generosity but I don’t think it’s in anyone’s best interest for me to do that.”

“It isn’t manly to leave someone alone in these lands,” Kirishima argued, “and besides, you’re going the exact same way as we are. Wouldn’t you prefer to travel with us instead of on your own and wondering if the voices you’re hearing beyond your campsite are friend or foe?”

“The fuck you mean friend—”

“I… suppose that’s a good point,” she relented. “Though only if it won’t cause any problems.”

Kirishima grinned. “It won’t be a problem, we’re not savages!”

At his final word, Bakugo stiffened and his eye twitched in anger. It was the exact right thing to say to stop his protests because dammit it would be savage to leave someone to travel alone in ungoverned lands, wouldn’t it? Barbarian was one thing, wildling another, but savage was worse; barbarian meant violent, wildling meant free, savage meant immoral.

“Just keep up,” he finally said.

Summer faded quickly into autumn, the changing of the leaves in the forested areas turning the lush green leaves to warm oranges and reds that matched her travelling companions. Despite the divided feelings of her joining them she found herself more relaxed as they crossed the lands together though she remained vigilant.

The crisper air and shorter days brought others to their sights, but none interacted other than with wary side glances as they too forged on to their destination. Encounters with rogues were the opposite; the colder the weather the less likely they were to saddle their horses and pursue travelers.

Still, there were a few encounters that ended bloody with those who mistakenly thought they had an easy group of targets. The precision of arrows, explosions, and dragon claws easily proved them wrong and allowed the trio to keep a steady trickle of supplies available to them.

She grew closer to both of the men too as they crossed the wilderness albeit in different ways—Kirishima was a fast friend to her, always asking questions about her and speaking about himself and the adventures he had shared with Bakugo and their other companions. It was through one of these tales that she learned that they were both involved in the defeat of the Mage of Decay alongside her former fiancé and a slew of others she had met while at the Todoroki castle.

Bakugo’s additions to this retelling are what gave her pause and made her reevaluate her first impression of the explosive prince. Yes, he was brash and rude and standoffish to anyone but his best friend, but the passion with which he spoke when detailing his reasons for fighting alongside the prince, knights, a farm boy, and others was almost inspiring. He had wanted to protect his people knowing that the Mage’s intent was to conquer the entirety of the east, but he also wanted to prove himself as a warrior and worthy of one day ruling his tribe as their most powerful leader. It caused her to look at him in a different light, one that morphed easily from admiration to a building desire.

Unbeknownst to her, he had also reconsidered his opinion since their first meeting in the clearing.

Her skill with a bow impressed him more than he would ever admit aloud but as they travelled together he saw the true warrior she was. When there were signs of rogues her first thought was strategy and how to take them out in the quickest and most efficient way. Most instances included several plans that were possible and would cause the least damage to themselves and the surrounding areas.

She was fierce and seemingly unafraid, though he could see deeper to the insecurity she carried. What she carried it for he didn’t know, but it reminded him of himself. He saw within her the same desire to be respected, regarded for what she was good at, to be the best version of herself that she could. But there was uncertainty, and he wished he knew why because a growing part of him wanted to be the one to make it disappear.

It wasn’t until a bitter mid-winter evening that he gained the insight he had craved.

The fire crackled in the quiet of the night and Kirishima’s heavy breaths kept the small clearing warm as embers floated from his snout with every exhale, fizzling out before they could hit the ground. Delicate snowflakes danced their way through the air under the shroud of darkness and silence.

Bakugo stoked the flames every so often, his body tired but mind unable to stop its racing thoughts of the woman across from him.

“Do you realize we’ve seen over one hundred moons together?” she murmured, face to the stars.

“Over one hundred moons and I still don’t know more than your name and skill with a bow,” he replied.

She closed her eyes and drew her bottom lip between her teeth. A heavy breath shook through her, emotion far more chilling than the winter air, and she levelled him with an unreadable expression as her eyes opened to lock with his.

“My family is from the golden lands of King All Might, my father a member of his council until his death. After he passed my mother inherited his wealth and we lived off of it for years in comfort but not as excessive as we once did when I was a child. She knew it would run out without someone working so she took a job as a seamstress and I helped where I could in the tailor shop. It wasn’t a bad life; I’d still be living it if I could.”

Bakugo listened to every word knowing she could stop at any moment and he would be left with more questions to ask than had been answered.

“My mother became ill and couldn’t work so I did everything I could to keep us fed and buy medications but it never seemed like it was enough. Until one day the princess of the Todoroki family visited the shop when the family came to the kingdom. She told me I was pretty, fit for a king and asked if I would be in the shop for the remainder of their visit because her brother, the prince who was the heir apparent, should meet me.”

“Fuyumi wanted to set you up with Half’n’Half?”

She blinked in surprise. “You call Shoto that?”

“He’s called me worse,” he smirked. “But keep talking. I want to know your story.”

“Well, I met Shoto,” she continued, “and he was… awkwardly charming, but very sweet. The problem arose when his father decided that the young seamstress would be a nice wife for his prince and offered my mother more gold than my father had ever brought home in his time on council for my hand. I… I didn’t want her to suffer through sickness in poverty if there was something I could do about it so I told her to accept King Endeavor’s offer and I would marry Shoto to keep her comfortable. She said if it wouldn’t make me happy to marry him I shouldn’t, but I told her if it kept her alive then I’d be happy.”

The fire’s light was just bright enough for him to see the thin tracks of tears beginning their descent from her lashes.

“I went to the Todoroki kingdom at spring’s first breath and by it’s last, I had learned palace etiquette and how to shoot a bow and arrow for the coronation ceremony, been custom made a gown of the finest materials only a royal could buy, and lost my mother to her illness.”

He stared at her in disbelief. Such a selfless act to marry not for romantic love but for the love of family and the desire to keep them comfortable, and she wouldn’t even be able to have that in the end.

“Shoto understood when I told him I couldn’t marry him and he encouraged me to stand up to his father in a way that he couldn’t, and so I left. Endeavor tried to burn me with his words and threats but I didn’t care; I had no family to mourn me and if I died, I died. But I didn’t. I took the golden bow and handcrafted quiver throughout the Todoroki kingdom and the golden lands but it wasn’t enough to explore or to build a home. Sometimes I still wonder if its honoring her wishes to cross these eastern lands with no true intention, so I decided that if the ungoverned territories didn’t bring me a place for roots or a desire to roam it further then I would go west. I just never expected a wildling prince and a dragon to be my companions to the southern port.”

Bakugo shifted beneath his cape awkwardly. He wasn’t very good at comfort or support but damn if she didn’t make him want to ease the ache of painful memories however he could.

“You made good decisions for the person you loved and when she passed, you honored her wishes to be happy. Half’n’Half wouldn’t have made you happy, you’d have just existed with him and had his colorful little heirs,” he said quietly, twirling the small tree limb between his fingers before adding, “And after one hundred moons, you can call this wildling prince by his given name.”

She smiled. “Thank you… Katsuki.”

Somehow his name on her tongue sent more shivers through him in one moment than the snow falling around them had all night.

“If you’re cold, we don’t have to wait until it’s time to sleep to get closer.”

Bakugo’s eyes widened at both her boldness and her ability to read him but he couldn’t deny that the closeness she was suggesting, something they had only done during sleep to conserve heat beneath Kirishima’s wing on the coldest of nights, was exactly how he wanted his waking hours to be spent. His time with her was limited as every day they drew closer to the shipyard that would take her west and right out of his life.

She stood, breaking him from his thoughts, and extended her hand to him over the fire. He rose slowly and took her outstretched hand, letting her guide him to where the sleeping dragon lay with his wings arced out on either side of him. Beneath one wing they had spread out a few furs as a makeshift bed with the intention of using Katsuki’s cape as a blanket as they had during previous nights.

He removed his cape from his shoulders as she laid in the furs, following just a minute later and draping the heavy cape over them both. It was familiar from past nights trying to conserve heat but now it held more significance when she curled close to his side and splayed a hand over his stomach. He wondered if she could hear his quickened heartbeat from where her head laid on his chest but chose to push the thought away as her lips pressed against his collarbone.

“You’re a good man,” she murmured between light, slow kisses up his neck and across his jaw.

His hand came up to the back of her neck and guided her to face him, features dim in the darkness. He didn’t speak, he only leaned forward to kiss her. When she pressed herself harder against him his hand fell to the small of her back and kept her close as they moved together.

Her fingers dipping just slightly below his waistband is what made him break away with a chuckle. “If that’s what you’re after, you think you can handle me?”

“I’m the only one who can.”

And as the night wore on he learned that she was more than capable, a fact he wanted to relearn in the dark of the night and any moment of the day she saw fit. The only true shock was that Kirishima, for being in the form of a beast with hypersensitive hearing, didn’t wake.

Somehow, as the winter months stretched on, he never did.

The stolen kisses and muffled moans in the darkness went unheard by the redhead, but the longing looks and brush of fingers on soft cheeks did not go unnoticed in the day. His silent acceptance of a sharp-toothed smile to each of them was enough. It was when the warmth of spring descended upon them that he began to worry, though. Each rise in the temperature drew them closer to the southern port and a ship headed west.

Bakugo too was acutely aware of the shortening amount of time he had with her. Over one hundred more moons had passed since the night they went to bed with the intention of more than sleep and every moon that rose in the sky was one closer to the night that she would no longer be next to him, every quiet plead of her voice was one closer to the last time he would hear it.

He knew she needed, wanted, deserved freedom. He could understand why the west appealed to her, but he would be lying if he said that he hadn’t wished upon every star in the sky that their eastern lands were enough to make her stay. Or maybe that he was enough to make her stay.

When dawn broke the morning they arrived at the ports he quietly asked Kirishima to give him the last of her moments on eastern soil alone with her. The redhead solemnly obliged and he kissed the crown of her head as the two set off.

It was quiet between them, words unspoken but understood—“don’t go” and “I have to”—as they walked into the shipyard.

Bakugo watched her speak with several captains until one agreed to allow her passage west on his cargo ship. Part of him longed for a change of heart by the captain while the other considered what part of the ship exploding would delay its journey the longest.

“Katsuki?”

He looked up, crimson eyes meeting hers as he felt his chest constrict.

“This has been an incredible adventure,” she said softly. “The day I found you and Kirishima in that clearing was a blessing, and you gave me a taste of the freedom I hope to find going forward. I… I truly wish this wasn’t goodbye.”

He stared at her for a long moment and watched her features morph into confusion and apprehension at his lack of a send-off. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he could give her one. Not when the ache in his chest had multiplied tenfold with every step on the dock.

He wasn’t good with words like she was, her training to be a princess and a queen showing through in the eloquent way she could turn a phrase. To beg would go against his upbringing, so he chose to make his point the only way he thought would reach her and his expression softened as he began to speak.

“They were wrong about you,” he murmured. “You’re not fit for a king, you’re so much more. You’re smart, you’re an expert markswoman, a brilliant strategist. You go on even when you feel you have no reason to.”

“You just want me to stay,” she said with a watery laugh. Behind her, the ship’s last few barrels were being loaded and a shout went up for stragglers to board.

“I do want you to stay, and it’s because I think you’re more than fit for a king… you’re fit to be queen. And if you stay, you will be. You’ll be queen of my tribe.”

Her jaw dropped in shock. “You want…”

“…you,” he finished as the call went out that the ship was ready to depart. “I want you to stay with me and be my queen. Become a Bakugo and you can have every bit of freedom you could ever want without worry and so much more.”

“Ask me properly and I’ll give you the answer you want,” she smiled, tears making their way slowly down her cheeks. “I just—”

He cut her off with a kiss, one hand coming up to gently cradle the back of her neck and the other falling to her waist as he pressed himself against her. Warmth bloomed in her chest as she wound her arms around him beneath his cape, fingers brushing the dip of his lower back. The noise of the dock faded, the bell of the ship she had intended to board ringing as it left the port paid no mind.

“Will you marry me?” he asked against her lips. The hand on her neck slid forward to cup her face, his thumb brushing her cheek tenderly.

“Yes,” she whispered, “of course, Katsuki.”

He smirked, kissing each of her cheeks before taking her hand in his. Interlacing their fingers together they began to retreat from the shipyard with wide smiles on each of their lips.

“Thank you,” she said after a moment. “For everything.”

He clicked his tongue. “Tch, don’t thank me for anything. Being your husband means I would do anything for you. I’d bring you the heart of any man you asked.”

“You say that as if I couldn’t get it myself,” she replied slyly, reveling in the twisting pout of lips in annoyance but also acceptance that she was right. A small victory.

But the greater victory came when they approached the barbarian village where the Bakugo tribe had laid their roots, cheers rising as Kirishima’s red scales glinting against the setting sun announced their arrival far before she and Katsuki’s boots reached their borders.

When they entered the sizable village questions were thrown at them almost immediately as the journey on which their prince had set out had not included finding a pretty woman to bring home. Annoyed at all the voices Bakugo had snapped at them but was quickly reprimanded by a tall blonde woman draped in a jeweled cape, the resemblance strikingly obvious as she introduced herself as his mother Mitsuki.

The members of the tribe were dismissed as she and her husband led her and Katsuki into a darkened hut—one she quickly realized belonged to the prince at her side—and demanded to know the adventure from which they had returned. Delight had spread across her face when she learned of this foreign woman’s skill with a bow and her smile grew wider still when Katsuki announced proudly that she would be his wife and the new queen of their people.

“I can only hope he brings you the happiness I can see that you bring him,” his father, Masaru, murmured as his wife and son spoke loudly of when the wedding would take place.

She watched the mother/son duo fondly, chuckling when alcohol was produced in celebration. “He already has.”

For several days she and Katsuki observed both Mitsuki and Masaru’s duties as the queen and king of the tribe, learning the roles they would take over once the wedding ceremony was complete. It was fast, much faster than when she had been in the Todoroki kingdom, but she supposed that free folk didn’t really need such extensive formalities.

But it did unnerve her to know that she would be taking on the title of a queen so quickly when she barely knew the customs of the tribe. Though each member had introduced themselves and given her well wishes in her marriage to their prince, she felt the positivity was misplaced.

Katsuki had been swift with vocalizing his own confidence in her when she told him her fears one night as they lie in the darkness of their hut.

“They only need someone who will support them and uphold the morals our village has carried for centuries. You already do that for me so just be you, silly woman.”

And while it didn’t dispel all of her worries it lessened the toll they had been taking on her significantly, and she thought again how grateful she was that she had Katsuki by her side.

She thought it often, really, in the days leading up to their wedding. Without knowing much but what she would wear, she pushed her worries aside and only indulged in her curiosities. She asked many questions about her title and what restrictions it held, what rights she had if something were to happen to her husband, and so much more. The only questions that went unanswered were about the approaching nuptials and she made it a point to ask Katsuki at his most gentle moment when she needed the knowledge most.

That meant that her best chance was after intimacy, less than an hour before they were to meet in front of the large fire the village had assembled the day prior.

“You haven’t told me anything and the ceremony starts within the hour. Are there traditions to honor?” she asked as she took her time changing from her every day clothing into the wedding attire the queen had given her that morning.

“Yeah,” he grunted, lounging back lazily in the bed and enjoying the sight of her, “but they’re not formal like you’re probably used to from your princess days.”

“I’m marrying a wildling prince who will become a king and I his queen, formal is the last thing I’d expect, Katsuki.”

He snorted. “You’re gonna be half naked and covered in blood.”

“My own?”

“No, mine. I’ll be covered in your blood.”

“I’m gonna need some context, love.”

A feral grin spread across his face and he rose from the bed to cross over to her, his body completely bare. Pressing himself against her back, he trailed his hands up her sides under her tunic and nipped at her neck before whispering, “What good are vows if only words are exchanged? Actions mean more, and what better than the rushing of blood, the very thing that keeps us alive?”

She shivered as she tipped her head back against his shoulder. She opened her mouth to reply, but a shout from beyond the door cut her off.

“KATSUKI! YOU KNOW YOU NEED TO FIND YOUR FATHER TO GET READY, DO NOT MAKE ME DRAG YOU OUT!”

His expression soured at the sound of his mother’s voice but he pulled away, scooping his trousers from the floor and pulling them up his legs. Turning back to her, his gaze softened.

“I’ll see you by the fire,” he said. A promise he wouldn’t, couldn’t break.

She smiled as he kissed her cheek. “I can’t wait.”

He moved toward the door just as his mother swung it open, biting insults exchanged as they passed one another, and he was gone.

Mitsuki smiled as she closed the door behind her. The way she scrutinized her half-dressed from made her flush from embarrassment at not being completely ready, only the dark pants sitting at her hips.

“Are you ready to learn your role for the ceremony?”

“Of course,” she replied, nerves twisting in her stomach. She wished there was more time to prepare, that she had been told something prior to the eleventh hour. Regardless, she listened intently as Mitsuki walked her through the simple ceremony and the phrasing of her vows.

She was able to repeat them back easily several times to show her mother-in-law that she had them memorized, the older woman nodding proudly at each completion. As she repeated them, she continued to dress herself in the traditional outfit of the tribe; she had donned it all save for the long strip of dark fabric that would serve as her shirt, a tight twist at her bust unable to cooperate as she tried to hold it up while tying it.

“Could… could you help me with the top?” she asked, cheeks flushed. “I can’t tie it tight enough.”

Mitsuki smiled warmly. “Of course. Turn around.”

She did as instructed and held the cloth tightly to her chest, making sure the twist was centered and her breasts covered properly. Mitsuki pulled it taut and looped back around her torso before tying it securely behind her back. Once her hands left her, she dropped her arms from where she had been holding the fabric and looked into the reflective surface of the shield mounted on the wall of the hut.

What she saw was a far cry from the girl who had once turned down a prince; black charcoal lined her eyes and matched the black ink on her left arm, still red from the tattooing process that morning, and she was showing more skin that others would be seeing than she ever had before outside of her intimate moments with Katsuki. Red gems interwoven with various sharp animal teeth hung from her neck.

Her silent marveling must have been mistaken for hesitance as Mitsuki cautiously asked, “Are you… unsure of this?”

She turned back to the blonde woman quickly. “No! No, I just—I’ve never looked like this before. I’ve always covered myself for modesty’s sake but now I don’t answer to anyone who would demand it.”

“This life gives you freedom to choose your own path and others who will support your decisions, even selfish ones, so long as you truly find your peace within them. Its why Katsuki lives the way he does. My only wish for him from the moment he was born under the hot sun was for him to live as he saw fit and love just the same. And look, it brought you to him.”

She gave her a smile and carefully picked up the small scabbard for her dagger, adjusting it so that it sat comfortably on her hip. “I had thought that being in that clearing the day he and Kirishima were ambushed was just luck, but now I think that it was exactly where I was meant to be.”

Mitsuki placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, her other hand fastening the final touch to the twist of her top: a golden brooch.

The noise from outside the hut grew louder, and the two women knew it was time.

She hung back as the older woman went out first to cheers and whistles. Then, after a moment, she exited the hut and was greeted with an even louder reception than the queen. The respect they held for her already after so little time knowing her was shocking, but she couldn’t have been more grateful.

Head held high, she took her place between Mitsuki and the large fire separating the metaphorical alter from the members of the tribe. Masaru stood behind and to the left of his wife, and Bakugo stood across from her. When she met his eye, she couldn’t help the hitch in her breathing and shamelessly took in the sight of him.

The fur lined cape around his shoulders was darker in color than his usual scarlet one, older and more faded, likely traditional. His necklaces had been polished and sat proudly on his bare chest, broad and defined in the light of the fire. His tattoo was to their audience, muscular arms flexed as his thumbs were strung through the beltloops of his black pants. A golden buckle that matched her brooch secured his belt and the leather scabbard for his own dagger sat against his thigh. Darker fur boots were also different than his usual choice, but again she cited it as a probable tradition.

Mitsuki clapped her hands together once and silence descended on the gathering, then brought her hands out in a sweeping gesture to the bride and groom.

They each took the other’s dagger from their beltloop and cut across both palms widely, blood welling to the surface. When the daggers were sheathed they reached out and clasped their hands in front of them, blood flowing steadily down their fingers.

“A king cannot rule alone,” Mitsuki began. “Nor can a queen. As Masaru came to stand by my side decades ago, she now comes to stand by Katsuki’s.”

The light of the fire cast him in a warm glow, ruby eyes intense as he listened to his mother and watched his bride. Had he looked away since they came to stand in front of one another?

“Marriage is a partnership in our clan, one spouse does not rule the other but each contribute equally. What do you bring to this union?”

Katsuki brought his hand up to her face, careful not to touch her but with his thumb as he spoke, drawing a red line of his blood across her cheek with each promise he made. “I bring you protection in the night, as the moon should only shine. I bring you a respect the likes of which you’ve never known. I bring you the opportunity to travel these lands without fear.”

“I bring you protection in the day, as the sun should only shine,” she murmured, her own hand rising to paint bloody streaks across his cheek. “I bring you a respect the likes of which you’ve never known. I bring you the opportunity to travel these lands without fear.”

A smirk graced each of their lips as the vows continued and they spoke in unison, one bloody palm splaying across the other’s lower stomach to leave a handprint.

“I bring you pleasure each moment you are willing and a future in children fit to rule when you are gone.”

Her hand came to rest on his bare chest over his heart and his laid over hers just above the fabric tied around her chest.

“I bring you a life of adventure and years of contentment.”

Finally, their hands rose one last time to cup the other’s clean cheek. A slow, careful kiss followed, and with the warmth of the other’s lips still lingering on their own they spoke their last vow.

“I bring you love for the rest of your days.”

Their hands dropped and they faced the fire to see the rest of the tribe as an audience on the other side of it. Glancing at one another, they laced their bloodied fingers together once again.

“And so it is my last act as your leader to present to you your new king and queen,” Mitsuki proclaimed. She then stepped back into the shadows to give them their moment, Masaru at her side.

Katsuki raised their joined hands and the fire illuminated the red handprints and smears of blood across their bodies. Cheers rose in celebration from the crowd and Kirishima shifted to breathe flames into the starry sky.

She could only smile proudly next to her new husband. Fit for a king, fit to be queen—it didn’t quite matter so long as Katsuki was by her side.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! The wedding ceremony is probably one of my favorite moments I’ve ever written so I’d especially love to hear your thoughts on that! 

Testing, testing, seven and thirteen. Tumblr, get your shit together. Over. :P

I read you loud and clear, glad tumblr managed to figure its shit out! Thanks for the ask, here’s #13!

This is the intro to an AU I have outlined but may or may not continue: Werewolf!Duff and satyr!Slash unexpectedly develop a rather antagonistic companionship; seems appropriate since we were recently talking about satyrs in gnr AUs!  Duff thinks Slash is a sweet little faun but he gets more and more Dionysian as Duff gets to know him.  Since they don’t really interact in the part I have written, there’s also some highlights from the outline afterwards.

Consider “faun” the more modern word for any bipedal half-goat/-sheep/-deer creature, all of which are descended from the ancient Greek satyrs.  

~~~~~

Even for a werewolf, Duff was… unlucky.  He didn’t have a “true” wolf form like the werewolves of old, who transformed into huge, powerful beasts, beautiful wolves the size of horses, true kings of the forest.  Nor did he have especially good control over his transformations; when his skin itched and his blood burned, he could only hold off the urge to shift for so long, a night or two at most.  

This, unfortunately, meant that he had no choice but to move to the country.  Yuck.  Duff was made for nightlife and sleepless streets, not gravel roads and placid townspeople.  But if he stayed in Los Angeles, it was inevitable that someone would notice the beastly wolf-man prowling the streets of Hollywood, and things would take a sharp turn in the same direction as An American Werewolf In London.

This morning, Duff had woken up in his cozy new country home to the sound of birds chirping, the dappled sunlight streaming through his bedroom window, and the telltale ache of muscles his human body didn’t have.  The weather was gorgeous and the forest beyond his garden fence looked positively serene – it was the perfect day for a hunt.

Truthfully, Duff almost never killed his own prey.  Fresh steaks were enough to keep him fed, but there was something about roaming the forest, tracking its inhabitants, silently stalking a deer or a rabbit from the shadows... Hunting was just about the only thrill Duff could get out here, even if he let his prey escape in the end.

Before the sun even rose above the treetops, Duff was on four paws and enjoying the many scents and sounds of the forest as he trotted deeper into the wild.  He pounced at birds, sniffed at burrows, and allowed tangled deer trails to guide his way... until he stumbled upon something far more interesting: large hoof prints, accompanied by the scent of cut grass and lanolin.  

Duff had become aware of the population of fauns in “his” forest not long after moving in.  The cloven prints, the cropped foliage, and the stray tufts of wool were all dead giveaways.  Based on how close the flock occasionally strayed towards Duff’s home, he suspected that though he was aware of them, the fauns had no idea that a werewolf resided nearby – sheep weren’t so observant as wolves, after all.  Regardless, Duff gave the flock its space.  A lone wolf had no chance taking on a whole flock of fauns... That is, hypothetically, of course.

One lost sheep, however, was a different story.  

Enthralled by the unexpected opportunity, Duff crouched low to the ground and swiftly, silently followed the meandering path though the dense trees, deeper into the forest than he’d ever ventured before.

When Duff caught up to his quarry, the faun had stopped to sit on a felled log and pick a clod of dirt out of his hoof, unaware of the game he had unwittingly become a part of.  Duff was careful to remain hidden from view as he evaluated his prize:  The faun was bare except for the dark brown fleece on his legs and the matching curls on his head, long enough to brush his upper back and studded with dried leaves.  Two ridged black horns protruded through the curls, coiling in on themselves to form a complete spiral and gleaming wickedly when the faun tilted his head.  Those horns and the pair of pointed hooves, each the size of a man's fist, were the weapons that a wolf had to watch out for when dealing with fauns.  Not that Duff was worried – it was in a faun’s nature to run rather than fight, and Duff was eagerly looking forward to the chase.  

Too eagerly, perhaps.  Duff shifted in anticipation, and the faun’s velvet ear flicked in his direction.  The faun went stock-still, frozen like a bronze statue straight out of Ancient Rome, then turned his head and looked Duff dead in the eye.

The stillness shattered, the faun kicked up a spray of dirt as he darted back into the trees and Duff bolted after him like a horse out of the gates.  His heart pounded and his blood burned with the thrill of the hunt, he let out a joyful howl as his paws slammed into the damp soil.  He had the advantage of running on four legs instead of two, but the faun had a marginal head start and Duff’s awkward hybrid physiology wasn’t built for speed.  It was only a matter of time before Duff could no longer follow the dizzying path the faun wound between thick tree trunks, but when he finally lost sight of his prey’s kicking hooves and undocked tail for good, he couldn’t bring himself to be too disappointed.  Following the faun’s trail further could wait for another day; instead he turned around and contentedly trotted back home with his excess energy expended and his predatory instincts satisfied.

~~~~

Duff has a good heart, but he just doesn’t take Slash seriously and he acts like a jerk because of it.  He thinks Slash is just some sweet little woodland creature, so once Slash is reasonably confident that Duff isn’t going to eat him, he takes it upon himself to show Duff that a faun is just a pretty name for a satyr, and satyrs haven’t changed all that much since Ancient Greece.

The first time Slash is in Duff’s house (unwillingly, after an injury) he’s completely convinced that Duff intends to eat him, he’s belligerent all the way there, he refuses to enter the kitchen for any reason, and he’s also afraid of Duff’s perfectly friendly dogs, to the point of scaling the furniture (and possibly Duff himself, being the tallest thing in the room) to get away from them.  After a few hours of not being eaten, he starts to reevaluate the situation and think of ways to assert himself to Duff.

Slash eventually lets Duff see his home in return, and it serves as one of Duff’s first glances at the true nature of his ovine neighbors.  The fauns’ home camp looks like if someone put a hippie commune and a frat house in a blender and dumped the resulting mess in a woodland meadow.  Incense sticks and red solo cups abound in equal measure, and there is little regard for privacy, private property, or clothing in general.  

Once their relationship progresses into something a little more intimate, Duff runs Slash a post-coital bath, he helps wash as Slash uses about a whole bottle of shampoo to lather up his hair and his fleece.  There’s never enough of the stuff back home, and he relishes the luxury of Duff’s cramped, outdated bathroom.  

When they first met, Slash would be livid every time Duff set off his flight response (werewolves being one of his few natural predators). It happens again when Axl, another wolf, pays Duff an unexpected visit and severely misunderstands the reason Slash happens to be in Duff’s living room.  “Duff, I just caught your dinner trying to escape out the back door.”  Slash is furious and also very shaken; for all his lack of sympathy, Duff feels guilty that he didn’t step in in time.

Tbh the thought process here was basically Slash>fluffy hair>sheep>sheep are basically goats>satyrs are associated with sex, drinking, and revelry>and so is slash… and then werewolf Duff just made sense.  

A friendly grey wolf was spotted near your place Ms. Druid. Be sure to give it pets while walking past it. It likes pets and cuddles. -- Wolfie

Nature’s Soulmates

The silvery moon shone brightly in the vast sky.  Like a single cat’s-eye, it pulsed with a luminescence through a soft haze.  The thin layer of clouds partially obstructed its full view, like a sheer lace curtain on a breezy summer evening; graciously allowing for the forest to be fully aglow with a guiding light. As the crisp autumn air brought forth a hint of the impending chill that signified nature’s warning of the change of season, leaves began to crack and crumble with each deliberate step.

A magical feeling surged through the air.  And it was nights such as this, where our female druid felt most alive.  Each full harvest moon, she paid homage to Selene by taking the form of a large wolf as part of her Circle of the Moon ritual. Her long flowing coat was pale blue with highlights of teal.  While this was an unusual color for a natural wolf, it was the normal effect of the shapeshift that depicted her natural color as a genasi. Tonight, she frolicked in the dried leaves, ran full speed through the forest, and leaped over large rocks and dead tree stumps. After much consuming fun, nearly breathless, she stumbled upon a gently flowing brook and stopped to take a drink.  Something caused her to stop mid-lap. It was the sound of a plaintive wail, from off in the distance.

She quickly ventured towards the sound.  Through the dense foliage she saw it; it was a medium sized grey wolf. The wolf, whimpering in pain, was caught in a hunter’s trap.  The beast’s left front paw was stuck in the steel trap. The wolf licked its leg feverishly, and desperately tried to release the trap. To no avail, the wolf was in dire need of help.  Our druidess had a decision to make.  She knew, in wolf form, that she would not be able to spring the trap.  As large as she was, she did not have the strength in her lanky legs to apply the proper amount of force. By opposition, she realized that by dropping her wolf form, she would run the risk of frightening the wounded animal. She decided, she should approach as a familiar to try to gain the trust of the wolf before dropping form and freeing it. This was going to take some finesse.

Cautiously she approached with her head down to take a submissive stance. The grey beast bared its large fangs and growled. Lowering her head even further, she crept forward slowly.  When she was a meter away, she dropped and laid prone on the ground. This act seemed to have pacified the wolf. It leaned forward to gather the scent of the druid but stopped suddenly as it was perplexed by the lack of a recognizable smell. This wolf did not smell like other beasts in the forest. Something was not right. Still, the larger wolf was down, showing no threat, and the wounded wolf was in such pain that its sole focus was removing itself from the predicament.

She felt that she should at least attempt to spring the trap while in her current state.  Without making eye contact, she stood up and placed her large paw on the release lever; nothing, it would not budge. The grey wolf somehow sensed what the blue wolf was trying to do and did not attack.  In fact, it joined in the pursuit and took its free paw and applied it on top of the larger paw to apply more pressure. The joint effort was futile.  Even with the combined strength of both, the lever would not release.  At this point, the druidess became extremely frustrated and began jumping up and down with both paws falling on the lever. She was pouncing and jumping; trying in vain the release the trap.  The grey wolf howled in agony, because the missed attempts were jostling the trap and causing it to dig further into the wolf’s leg.  Seeing the misfortune that she was causing; she abruptly stopped and snorted a gruff pant in defeat.

She had no choice. There was only one option.  She had to drop form, because in this state she did not possess the strength; nor could she cast any magic. She retreated two meters, looked the wolf in the eyes, and dropped form. She stood before the wounded wolf in all her glorious genasi form. She was three inches short of six feet. Her long teal locks cascaded down her back, which complimented the tone of her pale blue skin. Her markings glowed white in the full moonlight; while her piercing blue eyes sparkled as she stared cautiously at the wolf. Oddly, while startled, the wolf made no aggressive movements. She carefully reached out her hand as she gazed tenderly into the wolf’s tearful eyes.

 “Easy girl.  Easy now.  I am not going to hurt you.  Let me help you get out of this.  Okay? I am here to help.  Please don’t attack me.  Relax now.  It’s going to be okay.  Work with me here.”, she pleaded.

Cautiously she encroached closer as she looked deeply into the wolf’s eyes while she hummed a melodic tune lightly. Without the wolf noticing, she shortened the gap; until at long last, she was within the distance she needed. She promptly stepped on the release lever and reached down and carefully removed the broken paw from the trap. She placed both hands around the leg and muttered something in an ancient primordial language. A warm light engulfed the wound that brought an immediate sense of relief. She released her hold and disengaged.

 “There you go. That wasn’t so bad now, was it? See, that feels better, doesn’t it?  It’s going to take a while to fully heal, so go easy on it. Be well my friend. Okay, now off with you.  Head back to your pack. Go on now. Go on.”, she urged.

She waved her hands in a scooting motion. But the wolf was not retreating. At first, the druidess thought she might be in trouble.  Was the wolf going to attack?  She felt the best course of action was to back away slowly, while not breaking eye contact. When she had built up enough of a safe distance, she waved “goodbye” and turned around and walked away.  She continued to walk back to the stream where she was prior to the incident.  She had walked for about 15 minutes when she felt an odd sensation; like she was being watched. She turned around and noticed that the wolf was following along at a languid pace due to its limp.  She turned around and tried to shoo the wolf to go away again.

 “Hey now. I thought I told you to head back to your pack.  Why are you following me?  I’m not really a wolf, okay?  It’s just something I can do.  I mean, technically I can change into any animal I see, but some of them may scare you. I just can’t do it right now and show you.  Why am I trying to explain this to you?, she babbled.

You don’t even understand. Go now. LEAVE!”, she shouted as she stomped her foot on the ground hoping to scare the wolf into going on its way.

The wolf was not deterred and continued its awkwardly gradual pursuit as the druid continued to press forward until she reached the bank of the stream. She turned and looked over her shoulder and saw the wolf sitting as it awaited her next move.  She placed her feet into the cool water and smiled. Finally, she relented and patted the ground to motion for the wolf to join her.

 “Okay, silly, come on over.  I guess you are very thirsty, huh?  I might as well, clean and bandage that wound while I am at it.”, she grinned as she realized she had lost her heart a wolf.

The wolf strolled up next to her. Carefully, it leaned its head forward and began to drink its fill of the cold water.  The druidess tore off a strip of fabric from her royal blue cape.  She submerged it into the water and meticulously used it to clean the wound on the leg while it was engaged in quenching its thirst. When she cleared away all of the blood, she carefully wrapped the cloth around the leg to prevent infection and to offer a makeshift support brace.  

 She lightly joked, “See that. You are mine now. You are wearing my colors. I hope you like blue.”

Where’s your family, girl? Don’t you have anyone? I guess you are like me; all alone in this big world. Well you are more than welcome to accompany me if you want.  It would be nice to have some company.”, she muttered on as she sighed.

When the wolf finished drinking, it sat besides the druid on the bank and stared into her eyes.  She smiled and gently ran her fingers through the wolf’s fur.  The contented wolf appeared appreciative and nudged closer.  As she continued her soft petting, the wolf leaned forward and applied a huge slobbery lick to the druid’s face. The smiling druid threw her arms around the wolf and hugged tightly as she wiped the wolf saliva off her cheek by burying her face into the wolf’s pelt.  Exhausted by the ordeal, they both collapsed on the grass and nestled close to one another. As the druidess laid her head on the wolf’s stomach, they both drifted off into a deep and peaceful slumber under the starry night sky.

And hence, this is the story of how druids and wolves tamed each other and became companions.  To this day, they travel night and day throughout many lands interwoven in spirit through their devotion and loyalty for each other. Fiercely protective; creating a supernatural soul-bond that can never be broken for all of eternity.

"The Wild Swans" by Hans Christian Andersen

Just sharing one of my favorite fairy tales

FAR away in the land to which the swallows fly when it is winter, dwelt a king who had eleven sons, and one daughter, named Eliza. 

The eleven brothers were princes, and each went to school with a star on his breast, and a sword by his side. They wrote with diamond pencils on gold slates, and learnt their lessons so quickly and read so easily that every one might know they were princes. Their sister Eliza sat on a little stool of plate-glass, and had a book full of pictures, which had cost as much as half a kingdom.

Oh, these children were indeed happy, but it was not to remain so always.

Their father, who was king of the country, married a very wicked queen, who did not love the poor children at all. They knew this from the very first day after the wedding

In the palace there were great festivities, and the children played at receiving company; but instead of having, as usual, all the cakes and apples that were left, she gave them some sand in a tea-cup, and told them to pretend it was cake.

The week after, she sent little Eliza into the country to a peasant and his wife, and then she told the king so many untrue things about the young princes, that he gave himself no more trouble respecting them.

"Go out into the world and get your own living," said the queen. "Fly like great birds, who have no voice." But she could not make them ugly as she wished, for they were turned into eleven beautiful wild swans.

Then, with a strange cry, they flew through the windows of the palace, over the park, to the forest beyond. It was early morning when they passed the peasant's cottage, where their sister Eliza lay asleep in her room.

They hovered over the roof, twisted their long necks and flapped their wings, but no one heard them or saw them, so they were at last obliged to fly away, high up in the clouds; and over the wide world they flew till they came to a thick, dark wood, which stretched far away to the seashore.

Poor little Eliza was alone in her room playing with a green leaf, for she had no other playthings, and she pierced a hole through the leaf, and looked through it at the sun, and it was as if she saw her brothers' clear eyes, and when the warm sun shone on her cheeks, she thought of all the kisses they had given her.

One day passed just like another; sometimes the winds rustled through the leaves of the rose-bush, and would whisper to the roses, "Who can be more beautiful than you!" But the roses would shake their heads, and say, "Eliza is." And when the old woman sat at the cottage door on Sunday, and read her hymn-book, the wind would flutter the leaves, and say to the book, "Who can be more pious than you?" and then the hymn-book would answer "Eliza." And the roses and the hymn-book told the real truth.

At fifteen she returned home, but when the queen saw how beautiful she was, she became full of spite and hatred towards her. Willingly would she have turned her into a swan, like her brothers, but she did not dare to do so yet, because the king wished to see his daughter. 

Early one morning the queen went into the bath-room; it was built of marble, and had soft cushions, trimmed with the most beautiful tapestry.

She took three toads with her, and kissed them, and said to one, "When Eliza comes to the bath, seat yourself upon her head, that she may become as stupid as you are." Then she said to another, "Place yourself on her forehead, that she may become as ugly as you are, and that her father may not know her." "Rest on her heart," she whispered to the third, "then she will have evil inclinations, and suffer in consequence." So she put the toads into the clear water, and they turned green immediately.

She next called Eliza, and helped her to undress and get into the bath. As Eliza dipped her head under the water, one of the toads sat on her hair, a second on her forehead, and a third on her breast, but she did not seem to notice them, and when she rose out of the water, there were three red poppies floating upon it. Had not the creatures been venomous or been kissed by the witch, they would have been changed into red roses.

At all events they became flowers, because they had rested on Eliza's head, and on her heart. She was too good and too innocent for witchcraft to have any power over her. 

When the wicked queen saw this, she rubbed her face with walnut-juice, so that she was quite dirty; then she tangled her beautiful hair and smeared it with disgusting ointment, till it was quite impossible to recognize the beautiful Eliza.

When her father saw her, he was much shocked, and declared she was not his daughter. No one but the watch-dog and the swallows knew her; and they were only poor animals, and could say nothing. 

Then poor Eliza wept, and thought of her eleven brothers, who were all away. Sorrowfully, she stole away from the palace, and walked, the whole day, over fields and moors, till she came to the great forest. She knew not in what direction to go; but she was so unhappy, and longed so for her brothers, who had been, like herself, driven out into the world, that she was determined to seek them.

She had been but a short time in the wood when night came on, and she quite lost the path; so she laid herself down on the soft moss, offered up her evening prayer, and leaned her head against the stump of a tree.

All nature was still, and the soft, mild air fanned her forehead. The light of hundreds of glow-worms shone amidst the grass and the moss, like green fire; and if she touched a twig with her hand, ever so lightly, the brilliant insects fell down around her, like shooting-stars.

All night long she dreamt of her brothers. She and they were children again, playing together. She saw them writing with their diamond pencils on golden slates, while she looked at the beautiful picture-book which had cost half a kingdom.

They were not writing lines and letters, as they used to do; but descriptions of the noble deeds they had performed, and of all they had discovered and seen. In the picture-book, too, everything was living. The birds sang, and the people came out of the book, and spoke to Eliza and her brothers; but, as the leaves turned over, they darted back again to their places, that all might be in order.

When she awoke, the sun was high in the heavens; yet she could not see him, for the lofty trees spread their branches thickly over her head; but his beams were glancing through the leaves here and there, like a golden mist. There was a sweet fragrance from the fresh green verdure, and the birds almost perched upon her shoulders.

She heard water rippling from a number of springs, all flowing in a lake with golden sands. Bushes grew thickly round the lake, and at one spot an opening had been made by a deer, through which Eliza went down to the water.

The lake was so clear that, had not the wind rustled the branches of the trees and the bushes, so that they moved, they would have appeared as if painted in the depths of the lake; for every leaf was reflected in the water, whether it stood in the shade or the sunshine.

As soon as Eliza saw her own face, she was quite terrified at finding it so dirty and ugly; but when she wetted her little hand, and rubbed her eyes and forehead, her skin gleamed forth once more; and, after she had undressed, and dipped herself in the fresh water, a more beautiful king's daughter could not be found in the wide world. 

As soon as she had dressed herself again, and braided her long hair, she went to the bubbling spring, and drank some water out of the hollow of her hand. 

Then she wandered far into the forest, not knowing whither she went. She thought of her brothers, and felt sure that God would not forsake her.

It is God who makes the wild apples grow in the wood, to satisfy the hungry, and He now led her to one of these trees, which was so loaded with fruit, that the boughs bent beneath the weight.

Here she held her noonday repast, placed props under the boughs, and then went into the gloomiest depths of the forest.

 It was so still that she could hear the sound of her own footsteps, as well as the rustling of every withered leaf which she crushed under her feet. Not a bird was to be seen, not a sunbeam could penetrate through the large, dark boughs of the trees. 

Their lofty trunks stood so close together, that, when she looked before her, it seemed as if she were enclosed within trellis-work. Such solitude she had never known before. The night was very dark. Not a single glow-worm glittered in the moss.

Sorrowfully she laid herself down to sleep; and, after a while, it seemed to her as if the branches of the trees parted over her head, and that the mild eyes of angels looked down upon her from heaven. When she awoke in the morning, she knew not whether she had dreamt this, or if it had really been so.

Then she continued her wandering; but she had not gone many steps forward, when she met an old woman with berries in her basket, and she gave her a few to eat. 

Then Eliza asked her if she had not seen eleven princes riding through the forest.

"No," replied the old woman, "But I saw yesterday eleven swans, with gold crowns on their heads, swimming on the river close by."

Then she led Eliza a little distance farther to a sloping bank, and at the foot of it wound a little river.

The trees on its banks stretched their long leafy branches across the water towards each other, and where the growth prevented them from meeting naturally, the roots had torn themselves away from the ground, so that the branches might mingle their foliage as they hung over the water.

Eliza bade the old woman farewell, and walked by the flowing river, till she reached the shore of the open sea. 

And there, before the young maiden's eyes, lay the glorious ocean, but not a sail appeared on its surface, not even a boat could be seen. How was she to go farther?

She noticed how the countless pebbles on the sea-shore had been smoothed and rounded by the action of the water. Glass, iron, stones, everything that lay there mingled together, had taken its shape from the same power, and felt as smooth, or even smoother than her own delicate hand. 

"The water rolls on without weariness," she said, till all that is hard becomes smooth; so will I be unwearied in my task. Thanks for your lessons, bright rolling waves; my heart tells me you will lead me to my dear brothers." 

On the foam-covered sea-weeds, lay eleven white swan feathers, which she gathered up and placed together. Drops of water lay upon them; whether they were dew-drops or tears no one could say. 

Lonely as it was on the sea-shore, she did not observe it, for the ever-moving sea showed more changes in a few hours than the most varying lake could produce during a whole year. If a black heavy cloud arose, it was as if the sea said, "I can look dark and angry too;" and then the wind blew, and the waves turned to white foam as they rolled.

When the wind slept, and the clouds glowed with the red sunlight, then the sea looked like a rose leaf. But however quietly its white glassy surface rested, there was still a motion on the shore, as its waves rose and fell like the breast of a sleeping child. 

When the sun was about to set, Eliza saw eleven white swans with golden crowns on their heads, flying towards the land, one behind the other, like a long white ribbon.

Then Eliza went down the slope from the shore, and hid herself behind the bushes. The swans alighted quite close to her and flapped their great white wings. As soon as the sun had disappeared under the water, the feathers of the swans fell off, and eleven beautiful princes, Eliza's brothers, stood near her.

She uttered a loud cry, for, although they were very much changed, she knew them immediately. She sprang into their arms, and called them each by name. 

Then, how happy the princes were at meeting their little sister again, for they recognized her, although she had grown so tall and beautiful.

They laughed, and they wept, and very soon understood how wickedly their mother had acted to them all.

"We brothers," said the eldest, "fly about as wild swans, so long as the sun is in the sky; but as soon as it sinks behind the hills, we recover our human shape. Therefore must we always be near a resting place for our feet before sunset; for if we should be flying towards the clouds at the time we recovered our natural shape as men, we should sink deep into the sea. We do not dwell here, but in a land just as fair, that lies beyond the ocean, which we have to cross for a long distance; there is no island in our passage upon which we could pass, the night; nothing but a little rock rising out of the sea, upon which we can scarcely stand with safety, even closely crowded together. If the sea is rough, the foam dashes over us, yet we thank God even for this rock; we have passed whole nights upon it, or we should never have reached our beloved fatherland, for our flight across the sea occupies two of the longest days in the year. We have permission to visit out home once in every year, and to remain eleven days, during which we fly across the forest to look once more at the palace where our father dwells, and where we were born, and at the church, where our mother lies buried. Here it seems as if the very trees and bushes were related to us. The wild horses leap over the plains as we have seen them in our childhood. The charcoal burners sing the old songs, to which we have danced as children. This is our fatherland, to which we are drawn by loving ties; and here we have found you, our dear little sister., Two days longer we can remain here, and then must we fly away to a beautiful land which is not our home; and how can we take you with us? We have neither ship nor boat."

"How can I break this spell?" said their sister. And then she talked about it nearly the whole night, only slumbering for a few hours.

Eliza was awakened by the rustling of the swans' wings as they soared above. Her brothers were again changed to swans, and they flew in circles wider and wider, till they were far away; but one of them, the youngest swan, remained behind, and laid his head in his sister's lap, while she stroked his wings; and they remained together the whole day.

Towards evening, the rest came back, and as the sun went down they resumed their natural forms.

"To-morrow," said one, "we shall fly away, not to return again till a whole year has passed. But we cannot leave you here. Have you courage to go with us? My arm is strong enough to carry you through the wood; and will not all our wings be strong enough to fly with you over the sea?"

"Yes, take me with you," said Eliza. Then they spent the whole night in weaving a net with the pliant willow and rushes. It was very large and strong. 

Eliza laid herself down on the net, and when the sun rose, and her brothers again became wild swans, they took up the net with their beaks, and flew up to the clouds with their dear sister, who still slept. 

The sunbeams fell on her face, therefore one of the swans soared over her head, so that his broad wings might shade her. 

They were far from the land when Eliza woke. She thought she must still be dreaming, it seemed so strange to her to feel herself being carried so high in the air over the sea. 

By her side lay a branch full of beautiful ripe berries, and a bundle of sweet roots; the youngest of her brothers had gathered them for her, and placed them by her side. She smiled her thanks to him; she knew it was the same who had hovered over her to shade her with his wings.

They were now so high, that a large ship beneath them looked like a white sea-gull skimming the waves. 

A great cloud floating behind them appeared like a vast mountain, and upon it Eliza saw her own shadow and those of the eleven swans, looking gigantic in size. Altogether it formed a more beautiful picture than she had ever seen; but as the sun rose higher, and the clouds were left behind, the shadowy picture vanished away. 

Onward the whole day they flew through the air like a winged arrow, yet more slowly than usual, for they had their sister to carry. 

The weather seemed inclined to be stormy, and Eliza watched the sinking sun with great anxiety, for the little rock in the ocean was not yet in sight. It appeared to her as if the swans were making great efforts with their wings. Alas! she was the cause of their not advancing more quickly. 

When the sun set, they would change to men, fall into the sea and be drowned. Then she offered a prayer from her inmost heart, but still no appearance of the rock. 

Dark clouds came nearer, the gusts of wind told of a coming storm, while from a thick, heavy mass of clouds the lightning burst forth flash after flash. 

The sun had reached the edge of the sea, when the swans darted down so swiftly, that Eliza's head trembled; she believed they were falling, but they again soared onward. Presently she caught sight of the rock just below them, and by this time the sun was half hidden by the waves.

The rock did not appear larger than a seal's head thrust out of the water. They sunk so rapidly, that at the moment their feet touched the rock, it shone only like a star, and at last disappeared like the last spark in a piece of burnt paper.

Then she saw her brothers standing closely round her with their arms linked together. There was but just room enough for them, and not the smallest space to spare. The sea dashed against the rock, and covered them with spray. The heavens were lighted up with continual flashes, and peal after peal of thunder rolled. But the sister and brothers sat holding each other's hands, and singing hymns, from which they gained hope and courage. 

In the early dawn the air became calm and still, and at sunrise the swans flew away from the rock with Eliza. 

The sea was still rough, and from their high position in the air, the white foam on the dark green waves looked like millions of swans swimming on the water. 

As the sun rose higher, Eliza saw before her, floating on the air, a range of mountains, with shining masses of ice on their summits. In the centre, rose a castle apparently a mile long, with rows of columns, rising one above another, while, around it, palm-trees waved and flowers bloomed as large as mill wheels. She asked if this was the land to which they were hastening. 

The swans shook their heads, for what she beheld were the beautiful ever-changing cloud palaces of the "Fata Morgana," into which no mortal can enter. Eliza was still gazing at the scene, when mountains, forests, and castles melted away, and twenty stately churches rose in their stead, with high towers and pointed gothic windows. 

Eliza even fancied she could hear the tones of the organ, but it was the music of the murmuring sea which she heard. As they drew nearer to the churches, they also changed into a fleet of ships, which seemed to be sailing beneath her; but as she looked again, she found it was only a sea mist gliding over the ocean. 

So there continued to pass before her eyes a constant change of scene, till at last she saw the real land to which they were bound, with its blue mountains, its cedar forests, and its cities and palaces. 

Long before the sun went down, she sat on a rock, in front of a large cave, on the floor of which the over-grown yet delicate green creeping plants looked like an embroidered carpet. 

"Now we shall expect to hear what you dream of to-night," said the youngest brother, as he showed his sister her bedroom.

"Heaven grant that I may dream how to save you," she replied. And this thought took such hold upon her mind that she prayed earnestly to God for help, and even in her sleep she continued to pray. 

Then it appeared to her as if she were flying high in the air, towards the cloudy palace of the "Fata Morgana," and a fairy came out to meet her, radiant and beautiful in appearance, and yet very much like the old woman who had given her berries in the wood, and who had told her of the swans with golden crowns on their heads.

"Your brothers can be released," said she, "if you have only courage and perseverance. True, water is softer than your own delicate hands, and yet it polishes stones into shapes; it feels no pain as your fingers would feel, it has no soul, and cannot suffer such agony and torment as you will have to endure. Do you see the stinging nettle which I hold in my hand? Quantities of the same sort grow round the cave in which you sleep, but none will be of any use to you unless they grow upon the graves in a churchyard. These you must gather even while they burn blisters on your hands. Break them to pieces with your hands and feet, and they will become flax, from which you must spin and weave eleven coats with long sleeves; if these are then thrown over the eleven swans, the spell will be broken. But remember, that from the moment you commence your task until it is finished, even should it occupy years of your life, you must not speak. The first word you utter will pierce through the hearts of your brothers like a deadly dagger. Their lives hang upon your tongue. Remember all I have told you."

And as she finished speaking, she touched her hand lightly with the nettle, and a pain, as of burning fire, awoke Eliza.

It was broad daylight, and close by where she had been sleeping lay a nettle like the one she had seen in her dream. She fell on her knees and offered her thanks to God. 

Then she went forth from the cave to begin her work with her delicate hands. She groped in amongst the ugly nettles, which burnt great blisters on her hands and arms, but she determined to bear it gladly if she could only release her dear brothers. 

So she bruised the nettles with her bare feet and spun the flax. At sunset her brothers returned and were very much frightened when they found her dumb.

They believed it to be some new sorcery of their wicked step-mother. But when they saw her hands they understood what she was doing on their behalf, and the youngest brother wept, and where his tears fell the pain ceased, and the burning blisters vanished. 

She kept to her work all night, for she could not rest till she had released her dear brothers. During the whole of the following day, while her brothers were absent, she sat in solitude, but never before had the time flown so quickly. 

One coat was already finished and she had begun the second, when she heard the huntsman's horn, and was struck with fear.

The sound came nearer and nearer, she heard the dogs barking, and fled with terror into the cave. She hastily bound together the nettles she had gathered into a bundle and sat upon them. 

Immediately a great dog came bounding towards her out of the ravine, and then another and another; they barked loudly, ran back, and then came again. 

In a very few minutes all the huntsmen stood before the cave, and the handsomest of them was the king of the country. He advanced towards her, for he had never seen a more beautiful maiden.

"How did you come here, my sweet child?" he asked. But Eliza shook her head. She dared not speak, at the cost of her brothers' lives. And she hid her hands under her apron, so that the king might not see how she must be suffering.

"Come with me," he said; "here you cannot remain. If you are as good as you are beautiful, I will dress you in silk and velvet, I will place a golden crown upon your head, and you shall dwell, and rule, and make your home in my richest castle." 

And then he lifted her on his horse. She wept and wrung her hands, but the king said, "I wish only for your happiness. A time will come when you will thank me for this." 

And then he galloped away over the mountains, holding her before him on this horse, and the hunters followed behind them.

As the sun went down, they approached a fair royal city, with churches, and cupolas. On arriving at the castle the king led her into marble halls, where large fountains played, and where the walls and the ceilings were covered with rich paintings.

But she had no eyes for all these glorious sights, she could only mourn and weep. Patiently she allowed the women to array her in royal robes, to weave pearls in her hair, and draw soft gloves over her blistered fingers. 

As she stood before them in all her rich dress, she looked so dazzingly beautiful that the court bowed low in her presence. 

Then the king declared his intention of making her his bride, but the archbishop shook his head, and whispered that the fair young maiden was only a witch who had blinded the king's eyes and bewitched his heart.

But the king would not listen to this; he ordered the music to sound, the daintiest dishes to be served, and the loveliest maidens to dance. After-wards he led her through fragrant gardens and lofty halls, but not a smile appeared on her lips or sparkled in her eyes. She looked the very picture of grief.

Then the king opened the door of a little chamber in which she. was to sleep; it was adorned with rich green tapestry, and resembled the cave in which he had found her. 

On the floor lay the bundle of flax which she had spun from the nettles, and under the ceiling hung the coat she had made. These things had been brought away from the cave as curiosities by one of the huntsmen.

"Here you can dream yourself back again in the old home in the cave," said the king; "here is the work with which you employed yourself. It will amuse you now in the midst of all this splendor to think of that time."

When Eliza saw all these things which lay so near her heart, a smile played around her mouth, and the crimson blood rushed to her cheeks. She thought of her brothers, and their release made her so joyful that she kissed the king's hand. 

Then he pressed her to his heart. Very soon the joyous church bells announced the marriage feast, and that the beautiful dumb girl out of the wood was to be made the queen of the country. 

Then the archbishop whispered wicked words in the king's ear, but they did not sink into his heart. The marriage was still to take place, and the archbishop himself had to place the crown on the bride's head; in his wicked spite, he pressed the narrow circlet so tightly on her forehead that it caused her pain. 

But a heavier weight encircled her heart- sorrow for her brothers. She felt not bodily pain. Her mouth was closed; a single word would cost the lives of her brothers. But she loved the kind, handsome king, who did everything to make her happy more and more each day; she loved him with all her heart, and her eyes beamed with the love she dared not speak. Oh! if she had only been able to confide in him and tell him of her grief. But dumb she must remain till her task was finished. 

Therefore at night she crept away into her little chamber, which had been decked out to look like the cave, and quickly wove one coat after another. But when she began the seventh she found she had no more flax. She knew that the nettles she wanted to use grew in the churchyard, and that she must pluck them herself. How should she get out there? 

"Oh, what is the pain in my fingers to the torment which my heart endures?" said she. "I must venture, I shall not be denied help from heaven." 

Then with a trembling heart, as if she were about to perform a wicked deed, she crept into the garden in the broad moonlight, and passed through the narrow walks and the deserted streets, till she reached the churchyard.

Then she saw on one of the broad tombstones a group of ghouls. These hideous creatures took off their rags, as if they intended to bathe, and then clawing open the fresh graves with their long, skinny fingers, pulled out the dead bodies and ate the flesh! 

Eliza had to pass close by them, and they fixed their wicked glances upon her, but she prayed silently, gathered the burning nettles, and carried them home with her to the castle. 

One person only had seen her, and that was the archbishop- he was awake while everybody was asleep. Now he thought his opinion was evidently correct. All was not right with the queen. She was a witch, and had bewitched the king and all the people. 

Secretly he told the king what he had seen and what he feared, and as the hard words came from his tongue, the carved images of the saints shook their heads as if they would say. "It is not so. Eliza is innocent."

But the archbishop interpreted it in another way; he believed that they witnessed against her, and were shaking their heads at her wickedness. 

Two large tears rolled down the king's cheeks, and he went home with doubt in his heart, and at night he pretended to sleep, but there came no real sleep to his eyes, for he saw Eliza get up every night and disappear in her own chamber.

From day to day his brow became darker, and Eliza saw it and did not understand the reason, but it alarmed her and made her heart tremble for her brothers. 

Her hot tears glittered like pearls on the regal velvet and diamonds, while all who saw her were wishing they could be queens. 

In the mean time she had almost finished her task; only one coat of mail was wanting, but she had no flax left, and not a single nettle.

Once more only, and for the last time, must she venture to the churchyard and pluck a few handfuls. She thought with terror of the solitary walk, and of the horrible ghouls, but her will was firm, as well as her trust in Providence.

Eliza went, and the king and the archbishop followed her. They saw her vanish through the wicket gate into the churchyard, and when they came nearer they saw the ghouls sitting on the tombstone, as Eliza had seen them, and the king turned away his head, for he thought she was with them- she whose head had rested on his breast that very evening. 

"The people must condemn her," said he, and she was very quickly condemned by every one to suffer death by fire. 

Away from the gorgeous regal halls was she led to a dark, dreary cell, where the wind whistled through the iron bars. 

Instead of the velvet and silk dresses, they gave her the coats of mail which she had woven to cover her, and the bundle of nettles for a pillow; but nothing they could give her would have pleased her more. 

She continued her task with joy, and prayed for help, while the street-boys sang jeering songs about her, and not a soul comforted her with a kind word.

Towards evening, she heard at the grating the flutter of a swan's wing, it was her youngest brother- he had found his sister, and she sobbed for joy, although she knew that very likely this would be the last night she would have to live. But still she could hope, for her task was almost finished, and her brothers were come. 

Then the archbishop arrived, to be with her during her last hours, as he had promised the king. But she shook her head, and begged him, by looks and gestures, not to stay; for in this night she knew she must finish her task, otherwise all her pain and tears and sleepless nights would have been suffered in vain. The archbishop withdrew, uttering bitter words against her; but poor Eliza knew that she was innocent, and diligently continued her work.

The little mice ran about the floor, they dragged the nettles to her feet, to help as well as they could; and the thrush sat outside the grating of the window, and sang to her the whole night long, as sweetly as possible, to keep up her spirits.

It was still twilight, and at least an hour before sunrise, when the eleven brothers stood at the castle gate, and demanded to be brought before the king. They were told it could not be, it was yet almost night, and as the king slept they dared not disturb him. They threatened, they entreated. 

Then the guard appeared, and even the king himself, inquiring what all the noise meant. At this moment the sun rose. The eleven brothers were seen no more, but eleven wild swans flew away over the castle.

And now all the people came streaming forth from the gates of the city, to see the witch burnt. An old horse drew the cart on which she sat. They had dressed her in a garment of coarse sackcloth. Her lovely hair hung loose on her shoulders, her cheeks were deadly pale, her lips moved silently, while her fingers still worked at the green flax. Even on the way to death, she would not give up her task.

The ten coats of mail lay at her feet, she was working hard at the eleventh, while the mob jeered her and said, "See the witch, how she mutters! She has no hymn-book in her hand. She sits there with her ugly sorcery. Let us tear it in a thousand pieces."

And then they pressed towards her, and would have destroyed the coats of mail, but at the same moment eleven wild swans flew over her, and alighted on the cart. Then they flapped their large wings, and the crowd drew on one side in alarm.

"It is a sign from heaven that she is innocent," whispered many of them; but they ventured not to say it aloud.

As the executioner seized her by the hand, to lift her out of the cart, she hastily threw the eleven coats of mail over the swans, and they immediately became eleven handsome princes; but the youngest had a swan's wing, instead of an arm; for she had not been able to finish the last sleeve of the coat.

"Now I may speak," she exclaimed. "I am innocent."

Then the people, who saw what happened, bowed to her, as before a saint; but she sank lifeless in her brothers' arms, overcome with suspense, anguish, and pain.

"Yes, she is innocent," said the eldest brother; and then he related all that had taken place; and while he spoke there rose in the air a fragrance as from millions of roses. 

Every piece of faggot in the pile had taken root, and threw out branches, and appeared a thick hedge, large and high, covered with roses; while above all bloomed a white and shining flower, that glittered like a star. 

This flower the king plucked, and placed in Eliza's bosom, when she awoke from her swoon, with peace and happiness in her heart. And all the church bells rang of themselves, and the birds came in great troops. And a marriage procession returned to the castle, such as no king had ever before seen.

THE END

Under the Stars

Dean Winchester x Reader

1400 Words

Written For: @spnquotebingo, @spngenrebingo

Squares Filled: I fell in love with you because you weren’t like anyone else (Quote), Campfire(Genre)

Warnings: None

Summary: Stuck out in the middle of the woods, Dean’s there to make sure everything is okay.

Branches snapped as you continued forward, your feet sinking into the soft forest floor. Pine needles pulled at your clothes, the mosquitoes buzzing around your skin. You were tired and miserable, and it didn’t seem like you were going back to your hotel room any time soon.

“You doing okay back there?” Dean called over his shoulder, leading the way through the thick foliage. His flannel sleeves were rolled back, his strong forearms covered in scratches. He had dirt smeared on his cheek but still seemed to be in fine spirits.

“Are we ever going to get back?” You whined. “It will be dark soon.”

Dean stopped, waiting for you to catch up to him. He rubbed his hands along your arms. “I think we took a wrong turn back there, but it shouldn’t be much longer. I promise. Then I’ll buy you whatever you want for dinner and we can relax in the room. Okay?”

Your smile was half-hearted. You weren’t mad at Dean, it wasn’t his fault. Neither of you had realized that a quick hunt in the woods would turn into a four-hour hike. Dean threaded his fingers with yours, tucking you under his shoulder. “Let’s keep moving.”

It wasn’t long before Dean was once again leading the way while you followed behind. The sun had already started to fade away, barely noticeable through the thick pine trees. It was chilly and damp, your flannel shirt no match for it.

Shivering, you wrapped your arms around your waist just as you broke into a clearing. You glanced around in anticipation, but no paved road or sleek black car was in sight. “Dean, face it. We’re lost,” you sighed. “Any reception?”

Dean held his phone up, his frown the only answer you needed. “What are we going to do?”

Dean spun in a circle, while you glanced on ahead. Another grove of trees was up ahead, the sun a cascading mixture of pink orange and red as it sunk down below. But it was the tire tracks and a built-up fire pit that had you excited. “Dean, look! Someone’s camped here!”

“Then we have to be getting close to civilization,” Dean agreed. “We could follow these tire tracks and hopefully get back to cell reception.”

“In the dark?” You shivered, thinking of everything that could be lurking around in the woods. “I guess. But it beats spending the night out here.”

“You’re right,” Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Better wait the night out, and try when we can see what we’re doing.”

You had never considered yourself to be a needy person. You never needed a five-star hotel or the fanciest clothes. But sleeping out here, in the middle of nowhere had your stomach churning with anxiety.

Dean must have noticed how unsure you were. Pulling you against him, he rubbed your back soothingly. “Listen, I know it’s not the greatest way to spend the night, but it’s better than getting lost even deeper in the woods. We have wood and a fire pit, and you have me. We’ll be fine. Oh, and I have snacks.”

“Snacks?” You were surprised, but then you shouldn’t have been. Dean always came prepared in case he got hungry. He dug in his duffel bag, pulling out a bag of peanut m&m’s, along with a couple of granola bars and a flask of whiskey. “See, we’ll be fine!”

He also pulled out his knife and a small blanket. “You are a lot more prepared than I figured,” You admitted. “But then again, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

He gave you that smile of his you loved. It was a knowing smile, caught between a smirk and a full out grin. He saved it for those times he was caught showing off his brains, which he didn’t do enough to suit you. You liked it when he let his brainy side out.

“Be right back,” he promised, heading into the woods, while you cleared out a spot near the fire pit, settling the blanket down. With the sun setting the mosquitoes had quieted down for the night, the crickets chirping in the distance. If you weren’t so tired and child, you would have thought the night beautiful. But right now a cheap two-star hotel’s mattress sounded amazing to you.

Five minutes later Dean was back, his hands full of branches he had picked from the ground. He began placing them strategically in the pit, muttering under his breath as he worked. “You’ve done this before?” You asked, not picturing Dean as the camping type.

He shrugged. “Sure. There’s been nights where we’ve camped out in the woods rather than pay for a hotel room. Actually it’s kind of nice sleeping under the stars.”

You could already see the stars in the dusk sky, barely shining yet but there. “I don’t mind the stars. It’s the cold, the bugs and whatever else that’s out here that I’m worried about.”

Chuckling, Dean pulled out his lighter. “I think you’ll enjoy it. And then I promise you tomorrow you’ll get a nice hot shower and dinner wherever you want.”

“At the bunker? Your hamburger?” You asked, making Dean smile. “You got it sweetheart,” he promised. Taking some dried grass, he easily started the fire, impressing you. Leaning down, he blew gently on the small flame. The fire took off, and Dean settled down on the blanket, pulling on your hand until you were sitting beside him. Wrapping his arm around you, he offered you a handful of m&m’s.

“There, that’s not so bad, is it?” He asked you as night fully settled in. The fire crackled and sparked, casting shadows around the area. The stars were brighter now, and you had to admit. It was quite nice.

“For right now,” you agreed. “But later tonight?”

“I’ll be right beside you,” he assured you, squeezing your shoulder assuringly.

Sometime during the night, Dean wrapped you in the blanket, letting you use his lap as a pillow. He talked to you, stories of previous hunts. Funny things that Sam would have shot him if he heard his brother. He kept the fire burning, and with the warmth from it and him, you found yourself nodding off.

The sun was barely starting to filter through the trees behind you when Dean gently shook your shoulder. “It’s time to head out,” he spoke softly, his green eyes vibrant in the dawn light. Yawning, you sat up, the blanket slipping from your shoulder. The fire had died down, only embers glowing a deep red. “Didn’t you get cold last night?” You asked, feeling horrible that he had suffered only to keep you safe and warm.

However, he shook his head no. “Between the fire and you beside me I was fine,” he assured you. “It was a nice night.”

Your body was a little sore and stiff as you stood up, but you didn’t mind. Reaching down, you helped Dean to his feet.“Dean, you’re something, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, using the toe of his boots to push dirt over the remaining coals. “No, really. You amaze me. You’re ability to adapt and change with each situation. Never giving up, always figuring out a way to make things work.”

Your comments were getting to him, you could tell. He kept rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, never looking your way. “Well, I’m sorry I get us into these situations to begin with. If I was a…,”

You didn’t let him finish, Grasping his arm with your hand, you forced him to look at you. “Dean, I fell in love with you because you weren’t like anyone else. Because of the huge heart you have, and the way you always fight for those you love. Like the fact that you stayed up all night, keeping the fire going to make sure I wouldn’t get cold.”

“You love me?” He whispered, and you nodded.

“I love you,” you told him again.

A huge smile broke out on his face. “I’ve been waiting forever to hear those words pass your lips. Y/N, I love you too.”

“You know what would make me love you even more?”

He shrugged. “If you got us out of here and found us breakfast,” you told him. Laughing, he wrapped up the blanket, handing you a granola bar before the two of you began the trek down the dirt road, not knowing the Impala was only a mile up ahead.

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278  @bebravekeeponfighting  @bi-danvers0 @brindz30 @cap-just-said-language @colette2537   @deansgirl215  @flamencodiva @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @justanotherwinchester @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller  @krys198478 @librarygeekery @magssteenkamp @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk  @mrspeacem1nusone @nothinbuttrouble2 @ria132love @ruprecht0420     @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @team-free-will-you-idjiot @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666

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---

It was a lovely sound, the sound of carpenters and masons plying their trades. Engrim found they sounded even lovelier with a drink in his hand and cool shade under his arse, so that's how he had elected to enjoy the afternoon while he supervised the renovations.

Now that the storm clouds had finally shoved off-- and the Little Mistress was back home with her companions, mucking about in that endless dungeon of hers-- the crew was hard at work clearing the last of the rubble and overgrown foliage from the eastern barbican's arched gateway and portcullis. By tomorrow evening, at long last, Caed Nua would have a beautifully restored barbican, allowing access to the Woodend Plains and Defiance Bay beyond. And in the meantime, Brighthollow was bustling with carpenters and porters, bringing freshly cut lumber and large, fine beds and bolts of cloth and rugs. Prettying up the Great Hall, restoring the barracks, hiring guards and posting patrols-- the fuzzy little thaynu and her stone steward had a plan for this place, and that meant that these laborers could look forward to quite a few more of these jobs and their generous pay.

Engrim smiled his gap-toothed smile, swirling his tankard of cider. It had been a gift for the Little Mistress, sent by a brewery newly under Kolsc's protection, and she had kindly opted to disperse it among the work crews before she and her party had descended into the depths under the castle.

Could get used tae this, me. If Ye'd allow fer a wee bit o' idleness, O Magran. Engrim chuckled to himself. He knew he ought to know better at his age than to press his luck with his goddess, but he just couldn't help himself, sometimes.

It took him a while to realize where the sound was coming from, because he wasn't expecting it to be behind him-- after all, he'd specifically chosen to sit in a place where he could keep an eye on all the work that he was supposed to be helping with. But then Engrim heard the scraping and scratching on the eastern side of the ruined chapel, heard the muffled shouts and the banging of fists against solid wood, and he scrambled to his feet, stumbling as quickly as his skinny old legs would carry him. He'd had to help dispatch some of the beasties and spirits that had managed to wander up from the depths of the Endless Paths once or twice already, but they'd always crawled up from the dungeons, inside the keep. That these old bulkhead doors were connected to anywhere, let alone to the Paths, hadn't occurred to anyone.

Until now. Engrim squared his shoulders and planted his feet, readied his staff, whispered a prayer to the Lady of Battle. Waited and watched as the heavy wooden doors shook with the force of a mighty blow from within.

Thump. "Harder, damn it! Or, no, wait-- is there a mechanism holding it shut? Give him some light, Aloth!"

The old priest felt his eyes bug out of his head. 'Tis 'erself! The Little Mistress' voice was unmistakable.

"Certainly, just a moment, please..." And the sound of her elf lad kissing her arse all but confirmed it. Engrim rushed forward, dropping to his rickety old knees in front of the doors, his hands scrabbling at the weathered, graying wood.

"Watcher! Mistress!"

Shocked silence hung in the air for a moment, then: "Engrim!? Thank the gods! ...We have reached the surface!"

"There is a mechanism," her aumaua rumbled, his voice thunderous even behind the thick doors. "A... surprisingly simple one, actually. If I had some light--"

"I said I'm working on it," Aloth snapped, and a moment later the cracks in the doors lit up from within. Engrim squinted against the glare, laid his hands on the twisting, smothering ivy and the dried-up, half-dead rose bushes choking the splintering planks. He furrowed his wrinkled brow, concentrated, began to burn the vegetation away with a care and precision that betrayed his years and level of sobriety.

And before long, the doors were flung wide for the first time in hundreds of years, and the Watcher of Caed Nua and her loyal allies emerged from the Endless Paths.

"Engrim, please tend to Edér; he needs healing badly." Kana gently lowered the farmer to the ground, his blond hair streaked brownish-red with blood, head rolling loose on his shoulders, and Engrim rushed to meet him with a powerful restorative blessing on his boozey breath.

"By the ricketin' Wheel, yer lot's flame's lookin' half-snuffed yerselves!" In truth, all four of them were bleeding and bruised, clutching at their various wounds and limping, although Edér was easily the worst off of the lot. "What in Hel did ye find doon in them depths?"

"Ogres. There were crazed, violent ogres," Axa rasped. "And looters who attacked us on sight. And a tribe of xaurips. And their drake." She glared at Kana, anger smoldering. "And you wanted to press on?"

No one present had ever heard Kana speak so softly. "I-- I only remarked on the changing architecture, I didn't mean to imply we ought--"

"Spirits, too. Ghosts only I could see, only I could hear." The little woman carried on, her voice rising steadily in pitch and volume. "A pool of blood and viscera. Ancient catacombs full of giant insects and... and animated corpses. And an enormous adra-and-copper statue of a man."

"Or at least th' head," Edér mumbled, now fully conscious again though still bloodied and reeling. "Copper mustache. Heh."

Axa was at his side in an instant, kneeling next to the farmer, taking one calloused hand in between her own. "Don't speak, Edér. Save your strength."

"...'M not that bad, am I?" He managed a weak smile, tried to look at her eyes, but couldn't seem to get his vision to focus. Multiple images of the orlan danced and swam in front of him, and he found that the more he tried to get one of her to stand still, the harder it became to concentrate on staying awake.

Looking at him in full light, Axa felt her stomach drop: his dilated pupils, his unfocused gaze. He's definitely concussed. Gods, we're lucky we found that Master Staircase when we did. "Perhaps," she smiled softly, "I'm being a little hyperbolic. You just look half dead, is all."

The farmer huffed a short, sharp laugh as he let his eyes slide shut. "Work that charm on me, Watcher."

"Kana." Her ire toward the aumaua had receded, but not entirely, and her sharp tone reflected it. "Help Engrim get Edér inside. Stay with him and keep him talking. I'm... I think I have to stay out here for a bit. I kind of need to see the sky right now."

The huge man tried to smile at Axa but found the attempt futile, turning to her only to see her lying on her back in the grass, staring listlessly into the zenith. So he smiled at Edér instead, gently lifting the man by his armpits and guiding him toward Brighthollow, Engrim loping alongside.

He watched them go, and once he was sure they were alone, Aloth slowly, cautiously drew up beside the prone woman. He knelt, rolled his ankle, stumbled, recovered, decided to sit on the ground instead.

"Axa, are you... are you going to be alright?" He winced. What an insightful, intelligent question to ask, Corfiser; my, you're good at this--

"Is that supposed to be a joke?" she croaked, although the sharpness that was in her voice for Kana was replaced with a gentler tone for Aloth. He noticed, and the resulting burst of self-satisfaction tinged with guilt made him think of his school days, his teachers who played favorites, how he feared them and craved their approval both.

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm-- I'll apologize to Kana later, too, I'm just... tired right now. Scared." She tried to smile, grimaced instead. "Cranky."

"Well--" Aloth twisted his fingers together into tight, trembling knots of knuckles and sweat-- "Well. You've been under some... significant stress as of late, it's true, but I can't help but notice you sometimes... struggling. S-seeming to have some difficulty coping." He glanced from his hands in his lap to the ground to his hands to the woman on the ground. "I... I just want to make sure that you're alright to... continue this."

Axa sighed as deeply as her little lungs would allow, her half-lidded eyes still fixed on the heavens. "I don't know," she said at last. "I don't even really know what this is, this... new path I'm on. By the Visions, two weeks ago I was living an entirely different life! Now I'm a Watcher, a member of the Dyrwoodan gentry, I'm Awakened..."

"You've a lot on your plate, to be certain," he murmured, hoping he came off as compassionate and not dismissive. He scooted along the ground as delicately as any kith could scoot, until he was sitting alongside the supine orlan. They still had a decent amount of distance between them, but at least now he could see her face. She did not look at him.

"I feel like I don't... know who I am, anymore." Her usually robust, confident voice quavered. "Like this is someone else's life in which I've had to take up residence. None of this feels like it's truly mine, but it definitely feels like it's all my responsibility. None of which I ever, ever asked for."

"Aye, I conne the feelin', lass." Aloth felt the words slip out, and then immediately regretted allowing them to, grimacing and squeezing his eyes shut.

When he opened them again, Axa was sitting up. "You can't help it, can you."

His heart, his stomach, his brain-- all felt as though they'd suddenly been submerged in ice water, and as she turned to him with her piercing fuchsia gaze, he half expected her to simply state aloud all of his deceptions and treacheries like some Woedican judge, her Watcher abilities having allowed her to see through all of his pitiful excuses and flimsy lies.

But instead of anger or accusation or judgment, what he saw in her eyes was... relief, almost. Wonder. "The Hylspeak. You can't help it. That's why you keep doing it, even when I've asked you to quit. Or when it's gotten you in trouble. That's why you want to go to Defiance Bay with me. With us. To find someone who can help you stop. Isn't it?"

"I-- I don't-- I was just trying to--" He sputtered and stammered, subconsciously drawing his limbs in close to his torso in an anxious, defensive hunch. He wasn't quite sure how to respond to this. He was caught, it seemed, but... not? Somehow? He fidgeted and trembled and averted his eyes from hers, unable to bear the little woman's gaze, her sad little smile as she rose to her feet and stood next to him.

And he jumped, much to his chagrin, when he felt her hand on his back. "Aloth. You can trust me. I want you to trust me. And you don't have to explain anything to me. We all have our reasons for... keeping certain things to ourselves." She gave him a knowing smile. "However, it seems that the skeletons in your closet are a bit... louder than most others'?"

He knew, of course, what she was really trying to say. How long did you think you could keep it a secret from me? I'm not stupid, and you're not exactly subtle. "It's... a problem I've had since I was a child." He sighed shakily, sagging with fatigue as he shrugged off this small portion of his heavy burden at last. "And in Aedyr, that's not the kind of thing you take your child to a healer about. Not unless you want him institutionalized... or worse."

Axa gave him a hard look, as though he had set the policy in place himself. "I see. That explains why you came to the Dyrwood for a cure." She perked up abruptly as a thought struck her. "...You know, it's a rather gratifying feeling, figuring all this out about you. It explains so much!" She smiled again, and he found himself feeling annoyed and charmed simultaneously. He'd expected either pity or disgust, and when he got curiosity instead, he felt oddly slighted.

I'm not a puzzle to be solved...!

A lascivious chortle. 'She gettin' ye all fired oop, laddie?'

He shut his eyes again, curled himself up tightly. "Axa, while I am grateful for your patience with me, and your understanding regarding my... condition, I would truly appreciate it if we could keep this between the two of us. I'm... it's been a long, long time since I've really talked about this with anybody, and I don't think I'm quite ready for a full roundtable discussion regarding my mental health just yet." He glared in the direction of Brighthollow. "Not with those two, anyway. And not anymore, at all, today. Please."

"I had a feeling you were starting to reach your limit of how much you're willing to talk about it." She relented finally, lifting her little hand from between his shoulders, and he felt the weight of her scrutiny lift off of him as well. "And I'm reaching my limit of how much time I'm willing to waste feeling sorry for myself on the lawn. Come, let's get inside, get our wounds tended. We'll take a day and a half to rest up and get ready, let them finish working on the barbican. Then we'll set off for the city."

Aloth rose to his feet, brushed dirt and grass from his trousers. "In my official capacity as your advisor, I wholeheartedly approve your plan, my Lady." She scoffed, laughing, and he didn't try to suppress his victorious grin. "And... upon arriving?"

She started off toward her busy little manse, the carpenters and masons gawking at the bloody, dirty little orlan with alarm. "I'll know what to do when I get there, I'm sure," she called out to the elf over her shoulder.

He sighed, picking up the pace in an effort to catch up with her. "I was afraid you'd say that."

---

When it comes to dangerous creatures and ferocious monsters, many folk think of carnivores and vicious predators. Those who feast on flesh, tearing through prey with tooth and claw. No one pays any mind to the herbivores, as they eat simple plants, how scary could that be? Well, in truth, this plant-eaters can be plenty dangerous and there are those that the carnivores dare not touch. One may argue that predators eat these herbivores, so clearly they are dominant! However, a keen eye will notice that many predators seek out the young, old and weak, those that are easy prey. For some species, a healthy adult is untouchable, only attacked in desperate times. In some cases, this is done because one wants to conserve energy, so it is best to take the easier meal. In other cases, these herbivores are dangerous foes that can strike deadly blows or wound a predator so badly that they will never be able to hunt again. One's diet does not determine one's threat level, so one should be mindful before making such assumptions. A good example of this is the Khalkotauroi, a herbivorous behemoth that walks the grasslands and savannas. Though it feeds on grass, leaves and other plant matter, it is considered one of the most dangerous creatures of the continent. A hulking ungulate, the Khalkotauroi is actually related to the Catoblepas, as one can see in certain features. It possess the prehensile lower lip, the scaly armor and the long serpentine tail. The biggest noticeable difference, though, is that this beast does not drag its head on the ground. Instead it has quite the short sturdy neck, meaning it can function like any other animal on the savanna. Since it does not have to crawl with its face, this species is much more mobile. They still walk along at a leisurely pace, but if angered, they can charge with incredible speed and force. That is another thing about the Khalkotauroi, they are absolute powerhouses. Their bodies are packed with pure muscle, with backs practically bulging with all this strength. One's charge has the power to knock over a tree or barrel through a wall, which means that us much squishier things would pretty much burst on impact. A thick neck allows them to absorb a whole lot of shock from the attack, and it also gives them the ability to toss things around like toys. A pair of thorny, heavily armored horns is their main weapon, and they are things to be feared. Not only will they gore you, but you can get caught in them and thrashed about. The metallic shell on these horns is incredibly strong, able to deflect sword strikes and ignore a whole lot of punishment. This same armoring coats most of their body, which makes them even more intimidating. Thick scales give them an incredible amount of protection, making it difficult for any attacker to leave a serious wound. The bottom of their jaw and the back of their legs are the only places where one could get a hit off, but these areas are not very easy to reach when this beast is charging you. While it does not eat meat and it gains nothing from taking down another animal, Khalkotauroi often cause injury and death due to a rather short fuse. They are easily angered and they are quick to get defensive when approached by an unknown creature. Like Catoblepas, they have quite poor eye sight and thus rely on smell to truly understand their surroundings. Odors of danger or strange beings can put them on edge, and they are quick to defend themselves if something startles them in this state. Since smell is a big thing for them, a misunderstanding in a hectic situation can lead to an attack. My guides said that approaching one while drenched in a familiar odor is not a foolproof plan. If the wind changes and they catch the smell of a predator, they will get defensive. And if you happen to be in front of them in this state and make a sudden move, they will assume you are a part of the danger and charge. I certainly didn't need to be told to stay far from them, but this adds to the huge pile of reasons to keep your distance. This defensive nature and anger is also extended to their young, as they are very protective of their calves. Getting anywhere near a baby Khalkotauroi is a recipe for disaster, as their mother isn't the only one who will maul you for this sin. All Khalkotauroi keep an eye out for each other, and they will work in a group if threatened. Even their Catoblepas cousins are roped into this, though they rarely need defending. Living in a poison cloud means that a lot of enemies aren't going to visit you at home.   The rage of a Khalkotauroi is a well known thing, as they are essentially living battering rams. Fences, walls and any other obstacle is easily barreled through, and the whip of an angry tail can send a man flying. Loud snorts and pawing at the ground are clear signs of anger, but the biggest signal comes from their nose and mouth. Much like their Catoblepas cousins, they possess special organs that collect certain fluids from the plants they eat. These same organs secrete their own special compound, mixing it all into a particular substance. This soup is turned into a vapor and it can be expelled from the nose or mouth. This vapor is quite flammable, igniting at the slightest spark. This spark is provided by their tusks, which contain properties that are similar to flint and steel. With quick jaw movements, they can grind these teeth together and cause sparking, which will ignite the expelled vapor. So when a Khalkotauroi is angry, it will literally have flames bursting from its jaws! Though an intimidating sight to see, the fire itself isn't all that dangerous. The vapor burns quickly and the fire doesn't create that much heat. Getting hit by a puff of this flame may singe your foliage and hair, but it won't incinerate you like dragon fire. They don't really use the flames as projectile, rather the heat stays all around the head. That means if you are stuck on its horns, than maybe you are going to start cooking up. In reality, these bursts of fire are more for intimidation and distraction, scaring away attackers or disorienting them long enough to get gored. I see this application quite often in conversation about this species. When I bring up the Khalkotauroi, many are quick to mention the fire and say how scary it is. I often shoot back that the charging horned beast is the thing that I find quite scarier. Singed leaves are unpleasant, but having my body turned to mulch is a bit worse! The fire they produce may also be used to burn off the irritating hairs and nasty thorns of certain plants, making them more palatable. It is a behavior that is quite similar to the Crystal Horn, though they rely more on focused light rather than belched flame.       

With their immense strength, impenetrable armor and nasty temper, many people tend to see nothing else in these beasts. However, one may be surprised to learn that the Khalkotauroi are rather intelligent. They seem to be quite observant and a bit curious, both of which they use to learn and adapt. When some new object shows up in their territory, they are always quick to check it out and prod it with their lower lip. Land owners who put up fences or new structures can be sure that the local Khalkotauroi will be inspecting these recent additions. While some may chalk it up to normal curiosity and common threat assessment, locals have found these creatures actually learning the purpose and functions of these things. Though big and bulky, their prehensile lower lip can actually allow them to perform these functions after careful observations! Quite a few farmers I met regaled me of their first time they saw a Khalkotauroi unlatch their gate and stroll right onto their property. Though I think such a thing would be incredible to watch, the storytellers were not so thrilled about suddenly having these massive creatures near their crops and homes! It sounds like that most Khalkotauroi have mastered simple doors and gates, which means folk need to add extra layers and complexities to their barriers to prevent these beasts from easily flinging them open. I have also been told that Khalkotauroi have come up with interesting behaviors when it comes to the dry season. Though their eye sight isn't all that great, they can still pick out silhouettes, and a shape they are quite familiar with is that of a human carrying a pot or urn on their head. When water is scarce, the Khalkotauroi will follow these folk as they know that they are headed towards water. Of course not every person has to draw water from a watering hole, as many towns and villages have wells and other ways to gather this precious liquid. Well, the Khalkotauroi have learned that too. There have been stories of these creatures trying to get into a village's stored water, and one instance where a Khalkotauroi actually figured out how to pull the rope that brings forth a bucket of well water! The other thing that shows the intelligence of the Khalkotauroi is their memory. They appear to remember every place they have visited, even when they were calves. Water holes or feeding grounds they haven't seen in decades can still be easily found, and they are sure to bring their young along so that they can learn too. They also are able to remember certain individuals, which they often identify through smell. This brings up a rather fascinating thing about Khalkotauroi and one of the big reasons they are infamous to locals and hunters. Not only do they remember specific people or creatures, they associate these beings with certain things. There is a tale of a farmhand who was responsible for dumping any food waste or rotten produce from their farm, which they often pitched in the same spot every day. Eventually the Khalkotauroi came to recognize this location as a reliable source of food. From that point on, the farmhand would find these beasts waiting patiently for the regular delivery at the same time every day. Though terrified at first, the fellow found that they were quite friendly and peaceful towards him. The farmhand found these interactions pleasant, but never thought too much about them. He brought food and that was all they really cared about. Months down the road, though, and he found himself in peril. While out on the road to visit family, he was ambushed by bandits and captured. His attempts to defend himself angered the thieves and they gave him quite the thrashing. As they beat him, there was a deafening bellow and something massive came charging out of the grass. An enraged Khalkotauroi plowed through the bandits, sending everyone running. Each thief was chased down and ground to paste, but the angry beast brought no harm to the farmhand. It was later found that this Khalkotauroi was one that visited the dumping ground daily, and it recognized the man who brought the food. Hearing his friend in pain and peril, it came rushing to the rescue! It is quite a wonderful tale, and it goes to show how smart these beasts can be. However, a memory that can help remember a friend can also remember a foe. It turns out that Khalkotauroi can hold grudges. The most well known tale of this behavior is the story of Gnarl Horn, a rather famous Khalkotauroi that prowled near the town of Ndiounda. Gnarl Horn was a full grown bull that was identified by a twisted overgrown horn, which was probably due to an injury that occurred in his youth. Larger than all others of his kind, he was said to be the undisputed king of the territory, and that no predator dared show their face when he was around. All the townsfolk treated Gnarl Horn with respect and they dared not cross him even when he wandered into town. He was a notable specimen of his kind with an unique appearance, which obviously meant that some rich elite jerkbag would want to kill it and turn him into a trophy. Some far-off wealthy lord known as Hagen prided himself on being a big game hunter and saw Gnarl Horn as a must-have for his trophy room. So he sailed off and went to Ndiounda in hopes of bagging this behemoth, which the locals did not appreciate. They forbid anyone to hunt Gnarl Horn and refused to help the man. So instead of taking the hint, he decided to hire some shady folk to serve as guides so that he could claim his prize. They tracked down the beast and found him grazing in a herd of fellow herbivores. Knowing simple weapons were ineffective against the armored hide, Hagen decided to construct pitfalls and leg traps that would topple Gnarl Horn and leave him vulnerable. The group then had the genius idea of setting off explosive seed pods to whip the herd into a panic. The cacophony they made sent every creature into a frenzy, resulting in a stampede. Everyone had to duck and cover as the chaos ensued, only emerging when the craze had passed. The aftermath showed several ungulates that had fallen into the traps and crippled themselves, as well as a bunch that had been tripped by placed foot holds and were trampled to death in the panic. All in all, it was a horrible scene of misery and terrible waste of life. And of course, Gnarl Horn was nowhere to be found. Somehow having no remorse for his stupid actions, Hagen retired to the camp to plot out another way to take down the beast. As they prepared for dinner, though, their quarry made a violent appearance. Gnarl Horn came charging into camp, tearing through the tents and goring one of the guides. They all fled the scene in a panic, retreating to a place where the enraged creature couldn't reach them. After Gnarl Horn gave up and left, they went back to their shredded camp and gathered what remained. They set up their station elsewhere, and Hagen was determined more than ever to beat these behemoth. When he went out to hunt the next morning, Gnarl Horn appeared once again and attacked. Few more guides and helpers were killed in the assault, but even when Hagen escaped, the terror was not over. For the next two days, Gnarl Horn continued to ambush and attack the group at every turn. Finally his guides abandoned him and fled, leaving Hagen to fend for himself. With all his equipment and preparations shattered by this furious creature, he had no choice but to flee. He abandoned his quest and sailed home, vowing to return and kill the behemoth. While the locals were happy to see the rich fool get driven off, they wondered what had infuriated Gnarl Horn to this degree. Eventually the guides were tracked down and questioned, and it was revealed that a few of them returned to the scene of the failed hunt to collect what they could from the collateral casualties. They didn't want the meat and resources to go to waste, as Hagen left the mangled bodies where they lie due to their poor condition. When inspecting the scene, they found the crushed body of a Khalkotauroi calf, who had been trampled amidst the chaos. No one can really confirm if this calf was Gnarl Horn's offspring or not, but such a loss regardless would be enough to drive the beast mad. Years after the incident, Hagen returned to Ndiounda to try and take down Gnarl Horn again. This trip lasted only two days, as the beast attacked hours after Hagen had set foot in the wilderness. After the first assault, no one dared help him or offer him sanctuary. The townsfolk wouldn't even let him into the town, as Gnarl Horn pursued Hagen even into populated areas and didn't care what got smashed during his rage. With no place hide, he was forced to quit once again. A few years after that, he came back for a different hunting expedition in another part of the territory, eyeing a tamer prize. Four days into his expedition, Gnarl Horn exploded onto the scene and tore through the party, leading to another retreat. From then on, Hagen refused to return to that land as long as Gnarl Horn lived. Eventually, the beast's reign came to an end. Old and weary, Gnarl Horn was found one day lying underneath a mango tree in a local farm. Lazily eating the fallen fruit, he simply sat there for three days, never moving from the spot. On the fourth day, the villagers had found that he had passed in the night. The whole town held a ceremony for the great giant, and news of the funeral reached Hagen's ears. Gleeful that the terrible creature had finally died, he set up another hunting expedition in the territory to celebrate. Longing to bag some game from this savanna, he trekked out into the wilderness and was promptly attacked by a young bull Khalkotauroi. Hagen was run through by its horns and crushed against a mango tree. After Hagen was dead, the bull simply turned around and left, ignoring the horrified guides. It seems that the Khalkotauroi can pass down a lot of things to their young. In the regions they call home, the thoughts on the Khalkotauroi is a bit of a mixed bag. Many are proud of such a powerful and adaptive beast, as it serves as a perfect symbol for strength. Their impenetrable scales serve as great materials for armor and equipment, and those that can summon it through Thericorium will have a great coat of armor to wear into battle. The issue with all this, though, is actually killing one of these beasts to obtain it. Due to their anger and armor, they are not easy beasts to slay, which is extra problematic when they become a nuisance. Eating crops and wandering into towns is a bit of an issue, but trying to drive it away can cause untold destruction. Thus locals have to continually adapt to these learning creatures, finding new ways to keep them out and away from their property. Some have considered domesticating the Khalkotauroi, as they would be great beasts of burden and they are capable of learning. This does sound good on paper, as you could train them with gifts of food, but there is a catch. While they can associate certain folk with good things like treats and kindness, this will not apply to everyone they meet. So you may be able to dance all around your trained pal without any issue, but the second a stranger is added into the mix, then it may lead to disaster. Also they could get protective over you like they do their young, and try to charge to the rescue if you sound like you are in danger. It may sound cool, but it really isn't when you argue with your spouse over who is doing the dishes and then your guardian bursts through the wall and your partner.               Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian --------------------------------------------- So it turns out Khalkotauroi are not just "bronze bulls" like I thought, but turns out their real descriptions say they are just bulls with bronze mouths and hooves. which are literally the only two parts of this beast I didn't make armored. Great job, idiot. Also the story of Gnarl Horn was supposed to be a throwaway line that would speak of their ability to hold grudges, but I got bored at work one day and started thinking too much about it. So in the end, one sentence wound up being three paragraphs (which could have been longer if I wanted to add the details about his funeral, burial, supposed haunting and the mango tree, but those details probably aren't necessary). Oops!