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quietmyfearswith · 3 years

Text

with their little ; preferences

warnings — fluff (?) few hints at sexy times

characters — andy barber, steve rogers,ransom drysdale, bucky barnes, lance tucker, syverson, will shaw, august walker

a/n — THIS IS A DDLG FIC,, the characters will change depending on whether on how i see them fit the theme so yeah,, feedback appreciated

their love language

masterlist

“What are you up to, missy?” Andy asked as he noticed there was a presence who was looking at him as he was busy reading case files. “Nothing dada, I just miss you,” she mumbled as she played with sleeves of one of Andy’s sweatshirts that made her frame even smaller. “Why don’t you come over here then, baby,” Pushing away from the table, he patted on his thighs and turned his chair so he was now facing her. More than happy to oblige, Y/N excitedly crossed the short distance between them and plopped herself down comfortably on his lap. As if it was reflex, she instantly curled her arms around the lawyer’s neck whereas the bearded man circled his arms around her waist. “Are you done with your work dada?” She wondered, truth be told she had been wanting to spend some time with him, but understood well even when she was deep in little space how important it was that Andy remained undisturbed as he worked. Softly stroking her back he answered, “Not yet, baby.” Shoulders dropping, she started to unclasp her arms from where they were enjoying the warmth his body was radiating, “I’ll come back later then,” But as she was making her move to untangle from him he grabbed onto her tighter, “Where do you think you’re going, missy?” HIs fingers grazed her sides and tickled her, giggles erupting from her as she struggled to reply, “Don’t want to bother you work, dada.” Tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, Andy lovingly looked at her, “Work can wait, baby, it’s time to spend some playtime with you.”

“What are you doing?” His voice startled Y/N as she turned to face August, smiling sheepishly hoping that she could charm him enough to distract him. “Hi daddy, how are you?” She greeted him sweetly to which August just curtly nodded, “Hi little one; I’m curious as to what you are up to that got you all messy,” he pointed to her face that was covered in color. Taking this as her cue, Y/N turned and handed him the artworks she was previously focusing on, “Made this for you, daddy; that’s why I’m all messy.”

August managed to mask his facial features from showing how his heart melted at the thought of his little one making two artworks — one that featured the two of them holding hands with hearts littering the background and the other one was just him with a couple of guns in front of room while the words “Greatest Agent, My Hero” written in a banner. “We better clean you up, little one,” Holding out his hand, Y/N was more than happy to take it up seeing how her daddy didn’t seem angry with her as he gently placed the drawing on the desk behind her. As the tub was filling up with water, August gently lifted up Y/N and placed her there, “Did you like my drawings, daddy?” She looked up at him with pure adoration laced with curiosity, and he could not prevent the coo from coming out as he voiced out his gratitude and appreciation for his little one’s creations, “Daddy loved your art, little one. You’re one talented girl, aren’t you?”

As Bucky entered his living quarters, he felt the stress of the day’s workout and training leave him. He dropped the gym bag that his metal hand carried while the other hand wiped the sweat of his forehead with a towel. “Sweetheart, are you in here?” As he called out for her, he heard her excited squeals accompanied by her feet hitting the floor, running towards him. Before he could warn her about how filthy he was, her arms were already wrapping themselves around his waist while her lips were pressing soft, small kisses against his neck. “Hi tătic, I missed you.” He chuckled at how clingy she was and just messed with her a bit as he teased, “I was only gone for a few hours, sweetheart.” She moved her face away from his neck as she pouted, “But you were gone for so long,” she dragged on the last word as if to prove how he took too long to come back to her.

“But I’m here now, sweetheart; have you been good for me?” As soon as the question left his lips, she unclasped her hold from him and sheepishly looked at him she mumbled a soft, “Maybe.” Having suspicions based on how she was acting, Bucky crossed his arms and looked at her, “What were you up to while I was gone, Y/N?” And the girl could only whine as she hated it when Bucky used her real name; but the super soldier knew by doing so he could get her to answer. “Tătic, I only baked you some cupcakes! I knew you were going to be hungry and wanted to make you something,” She confessed as she grabbed one of his hands and led him to the kitchen — where there were around a dozen cupcakes on the counter. Grabbing one, she offered Bucky one cupcake that had blue frosting in it with a huge smile, “Please don’t be mad, tătic.” Taking up her offer, he took the cupcake and tasted it, moaning at the taste he looked at her as he kissed her forehead, relishing in the giggles she let out, “I’ll let it slide how you broke the rules; only because you made such delicious cupcakes.”

With both his hands carrying paper bags, he shut the front door with his foot. Ransom then made his way up to the second floor of his house and went to the room he knew his princess would be cooped up in the study; as she was burying herself in a ridiculous amount of workload. “Princess, are you in here?” He knocked on the door, and when he heard no answer he went ahead and let himself in. The picture of her sitting on the swivel chair as her head and arms were on the desk as she slept greeted him. Setting the paper bags down by the couch, he kneeled down beside her and gently caressed her back. “Wake up, princess,” He quietly tried to wake her up. She mumbled a bit as she slowly opened her eyes, and once she did she smiled, “Hello, my king.”

Ransom could feel his heart swell double in size as she greeted him; planting his lips down on her nose for a kiss he inquired, “Were you busy with work again, princess?” Nodding, she lifted her head from where it was laying on the desk and sat up straighter while rubbing the sleep off her eyes, “Yes, my king, had a lot of deadlines.” Grabbing one of her hands, he planted a few kisses on her knuckles, “I saw how hard you were working, and thought that my princess deserved a reward,” he chuckled at how her eyes lit up and he pointed to where he put the bags, “Well maybe a few rewards.” Upon seeing how the bags were from her favorite brands and stores, she excitedly leapt out of her seat and launched herself to Ransom so she could hug him tight — the impact making Ransom fall on his bum, but he could only laugh at how she kissed every inch of his face she could get her lips on while repeatedly saying, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Rubbing her back he could only hum, “Anything for you, princess.”

“Baby girl, come back here!” Sy’s booming voice echoed through the walls as he ran after his little girl who managed to sneak away as they both were preparing for bedtime. As she was running through the halls of their home, she was laughing at how she managed to get away past his bear-like grip. Hiding inside the coat closet, Y/N covered her mouth with both her hands as she listened to Sy as he voiced out his thoughts, “I wonder where my baby girl could be.” She heard his footsteps louder, hinting how he was nearby. When the sound was so clear she could also hear his even breathing, she knew he stood right outside the closet, “I know you’re in here, baby girl, I’m giving you one last chance to come out so you’re punishment won’t be too bad.”

As he opened the closet, Sy was surprised upon seeing how instead of standing on her feet to apologize; instead his troublemaker decided to crawl beneath his legs that were apart. Her giggles also made the Captain smile but he managed to put up his angry exterior as he grabbed Y/N by the waist and stood her up on her feet. “Now care to explain why you ran away when we were getting ready for bedtime?” With a brow lifted, Y/N knew there was no way she could talk her way out of it, so she dramatically sighed, “I’m sorry Captain, but I just don’t want to sleep yet.” Bringing her hands behind her back, Sy had a firm grip on them so she wouldn’t escape, “Well even though you don’t want to, baby girl, you have to.” She just whined as she turned her head to face him as she pouted to which the soldier just shook his head, “I’m sorry but you can’t charm your way out of this one, baby girl. In fact, I have to punish you for running off.”

“Papa, come look!” When Lance heard his angel call for him, he rushed to end his phone call with an event organizer. Setting his phone down on the accent table he then jogged up to their shared bedroom where he guesses she was at. “What’s wrong, angel?” He wonders as he enters without knocking, she then informs him that she’s in their walk-in closet. And when he does find his way in the closet, he chuckles upon seeing how his angel dressed herself up in his track jacket and pants, the sleeves of his jacket making her appear to have sweater paws. “What do you think, papa? Think I can be a gold medalist like you?” She questioned as she bent down to do a halfway lift as well as some stretches. Laughing at her silly antics, he tickled her sides which made her stand up and playfully hit Lance; but really it was the jacket that grazed his chest.

“What’d you hit me for huh, angel?” He feigned hurt as he pulled her close to him. Giving him a quick peck she sassed back, “What’d you tickle me for, papa?” He squinted his eyes as he teased her even more, “But angel you weren’t doing gymnastics! You were doing yoga!” Pushing away from Lance, Y/N then walked away with a strut, “Bleh, they’re all the same anyway.” Riled up from what she said he tackled her, causing her to land on her back, coming in contact with the soft mattress. “I guess I’m gonna have to show you how you do gymnastics huh,” Lance smirked at her.

“No peeking, doll,” Steve gently reminded her as he covered the sketchbook he was drawing on once he saw her eyes trying to catch a glance of what he was drawing. “Why not, sir? I just wanna see what you have,” she groaned out as she was drawing on her own sketchpad. “Because it ruins the surprise! Plus I’m excited to see what my talented girl came up with,” Steve said as he grabbed for his eraser and removed some of the minimal mistakes he made. Slumping back on her chair, Y/N now started to color her work, “What’s your favorite color, sir?” Placing down the fineliner he had before answering, “Blue, it’s such a calm color. Also you can use it to portray emotions; you can use it to portray sadness or display tranquility.”

She nodded as he ended his explanation, she opted for the blue color to be the main color for her drawing. The next half hour they were silent as they sat across from each other and focused on their work. “I’m done, sir!” Y/N excitedly declared as she placed the sketchbook down on the table, “As am I, doll,” Steve said as he smiled, “Why don’t you show yours first?” LEtting out a huff to show how he didn’t want to go first, Steve just looked at her pointedly which made her comply, “Okay, sir,” She lifted up her work to show her artwork where she had drawn the two of them inside their house where they are sat together with the words “Best Day with Daddy.” “That’s absolutely good, doll! Those are my best days too, the ones with you.” She felt her chest swelling with pride, “Let’s see yours!” He proceeded to show her his work — a portrait of her. “I drew you, doll, because you’re the prettiest dame I’ve ever seen.” Making grabby hands a him, Steve chuckled as he made his way to her to lift her from her seat, carrying her to the kitchen, “You’re welcome too baby, I’d love to snuggle more with you but we’re on a tight schedule,” This comment made Y/N peer up at Steve, silently asking what he meant, “We need to prepare our dinner doll, we’re having that picnic remember?”

“What’s that, munchkin?” Will wondered as he saw Y/N walk towards him with the iPad on her hand. “Wanted to show you something, bubba; If you’re not too busy,” she cautiously said while approaching him. Patting his thighs, she motioned for him to come, “I always have time for you, munchkin.” With that she then giddily sat down on his lap, “What did you want to show me?” Once he asked that, Y/N unlocked the iPad and showed him a 360 degree view of the interior of the museum, “Wanna go here, bubba.” Will took a peak of the place, humming he pried, “You wanna go away for a vacation huh?”

Nodding, Y/N then explained, “I think a vacation might do us good, bubba. You’re stressed and I missed my fun bubba.” Will then realized that he was in fact quite often buried in work; he was also then thankful about how patient his girl had been with him. “You’re absolutely right, munchkin! We do need to go out and take some time off,” the girl on his lap then excitedly clapped her hands and squealed in excitement. “And what’s this about missing fun bubba? I’ll have you know he never left,” And to prove his claim, he then tickled her sides. This then prompted the start of their playtime — Y/N scrambling to move out of Will’s lap as he her bubba chased her around the house, laughter and joy filling up the place.

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straightlikewetspaghetti · 3 years

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Perfection

Pairings: Poppy x MC (Bea Hughes)

Warnings: None

Word count: 1900

Bea Hughes was not a spoiled brat like most of the young people of Belvoire and with the successful completion of her schooling she went straight into police work. Ever since she was a child, she had fought for her own, without any tariffs and faced human envy and selfishness. That's why when she got the job as an officer, she was determined to make this town perfect.

Perfection is a relative term. She knew she couldn't bring Belvoire to that state on her own, but she still hoped that her hard work would bear fruit. She was used to failure, but she did not allow herself to be broken. Just once. God, only once had she bowed to the pressure of her own demons and failed. So shamefully that nothing but a stone mask had graced her face ever since.

Unaccustomed to balls and parties, Bea was faced with a difficult choice: whether to follow society's acceptance and wear a frighteningly beautiful and sweet dress that completely did not suit her, or a simple, elegant suit whose graphite color matched her feelings. With a touch of distrust, she ran her fingers over the delicate material of the dress and held her breath in her chest. The coolness of the material irritated her fingertips, which were warm compared to the silky material, scratching her every now and then with the sewn-on sequins. This was not what she wanted. Not the sweetness and extravagance, but the passion and simplicity the suit would provide.

She had never needed society's approval so much, so with a sigh of relief she reached for the graphite material and nimbly threw it on. With a simple and careful movement, she tied the tie around her neck, which tightened like a noose against her pale rosy skin. Later today, people would hang her with words for this outfit, just as they had done in the past.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the gun holster that rested lazily on the elegant white bedside table. Taking that object in her hand, a shiver ran through her body, one that she always felt when touching the cool metal of a gun. Pure adrenaline, it was a feeling she so needed, and at the same time, didn't want to have. Tonight was all about perfection.

In front of her house stood a perfectly polished Ford Crown, its black and white hues exuding a sleek look. Tonight, however, because of the required elegance of the show, Bea brought along her beloved Ford Mustang that she inherited from her parents. It was the last thing they had left that would always have an important place in her heart and life. Slipping into the driver's seat, she let out a shaky breath. She was getting closer and closer to disaster. A sea of piranhas that were ready to tear her apart on the spot and, as usual, with stoic, even irritating, calmness, she would let them.

Keep calm. Be perfect.

Entering the monster's liege, she adjusted the tie one last time to make the noose let go, at least for a moment. She knew it was worth trying, even with poor results. Complete failure was never an option.

With uncertain and cautious steps, she glided deeper into the darkness. The smell of cigarettes and expensive alcohol irritated her nostrils and her face bent in an unnatural grimace. And although she herself sometimes did not shy away from alcohol, today it seemed extremely irritating. After all, spoiled brats are allowed everything, which disgusted Bea at the very thought.

After making her way through the dark corridor, a bright light flashed across her eyes, like passing through a magical portal, where a completely different world awaited her on the other side. The smell of alcohol intensified as the ballroom appeared to her eyes, bursting at the seams with an overwhelming amount of people. Most of them complete strangers to her, they were carelessly prancing to the beat of simple, primitive music, feeling none of the dangers of adulthood.

"Bea Hughes!" she heard a drunken yell behind her and let the air out of her lungs loudly.

Zoey Wade, her closest and pretty much the only friend she had spoken to in her school days. The complete opposite of her, a complete lack of perfection. Still, Bea felt a strong attraction to her, a need for adrenaline that her friend's behavior always satisfied. In her younger days an unknowable curiosity, today it is familiar and damned by every possible layer of society.

"Zoey Wade," she replied with an undisguised wince. This girl continued to be a harbinger of trouble. The brunette tilted her head gently to the side to carefully examine the silhouette hiding behind her friend.

A young girl with a radiant smile caught her eye. Her hair glinted like gold every now and then, shimmering in waves of colored lights. Bea thrust her hands into her pockets and shamelessly fed off the sight of this beautiful creature. Low and petite in stature, completely vulnerable and innocent.

Perfect.

"Who is this beauty you brought yourself?", she asked nonchalantly, directing her gaze back to her friend's eyes. Zoey cringed, and her eyes popped wide open. The brunette was taken aback by this reaction and shifted nervously from foot to foot.

"Are you talking about my cousin Poppy?", her friend's eyes flashed in semi-darkness as she corrected her posture after that unfavorable reaction.

Bea's lips tightened into a straight line, and soft wrinkles appeared on her face as she became lost in her thoughts. She thought back to the carefree days when she and Zoey would play in the backyard together, paying no attention to the different level of social classes they came from. It was not easy for a simple girl to play with the mayor's daughter. The black-haired girl adored Bea so much that her parents allowed them to hang out, but they made no secret of their disgust with the lower class, reminding her at every turn that she was beneath them.

Finally, one day the cup overflowed and Bea decided to take revenge for all the mental harm done to her. She took away their perfection. After that incident, she was no longer the same carefree person. She closed herself off and put on a stone mask, becoming a merciless jerk.

"If it was your cousin, I would remember. Believe me", she shrugged her shoulders. Her hungry gaze, once again, returned to the blonde, who was dancing with some boy just as she once had, free of her demons. Her movements innocent, made the blood boil in Bea's veins. She licked her parched lips with the tip of her tongue and struggled to swallow the growing lump in her throat.

"She didn't live near us. She's been in New York most of her life because her parents didn't want a simple life for her," she paused for a moment to wet her tongue in the percent golden liquid. "She's a lawyer."

"And everyone's favorite," Bea's throat went dry as she heard the angelic voice of young Sinclair gracelessly slung over her cousin's shoulder. The strong floral scent of her perfume, beat down the bitter stench of sweat and alcohol. The brunette's chest tightened, unable to rise or fall any further.

Get a grip on yourself.

„We don't know each other yet”, she flashed her an overly sweet smile. „Poppy Min Sinclair, lawyer, cousin to that dolt and future Mrs. Jackson.”

Bea lowered her gaze to the small and delicate hand with perfectly filed and painted nails that was extended toward her. She reciprocated the grip and when her thumb wrapped around the top of the blonde's hand, she froze. Her gaze traveled from her tiny, long fingers to the milky white skin of her exposed arms.

Adrenaline.

She needed it.

No.

She needed her.

And she always got what she wanted.

***

After several hours of constant talking and faking any interest, Bea stopped for a short break at the snack table. The atmosphere was so artificial that, for a brief moment, she even felt like she fit into this environment. As if no one there was judging her. How naive that trajectory of thinking was.

It was time for the worst part of the show: the dancing. She preferred to dance with men, although even this was not without a few indiscreet whispers. Because how is it possible for a woman and a man to dance both in a suit. It was so imperfect. Moments passed and so did the partners. Bea felt tired of listening to the stories of everyone she danced with. The most she could think of right now was to sit in her favorite chair with a glass of scotch. That was her wish until someone tapped her gently on the shoulder.

"Hey stranger, care to dance?", the wide smile on Poppy's face softened her heart, not even allowing her to refuse. As a police officer she stuck to the rules, but for this girl she was able to break them.

She returned the smile and found them a free spot on the dance floor. She felt soft hands wrap around her neck and the girl's forehead fell against her chest. Surprised by this closeness, she uncertainly placed her hands on her slender waist, but without moving closer so that their bodies were at a relatively safe distance.

"You intrigue me", she whispered innocently, swaying lazily to the beat of the music. Bea's throat became dry and before she could get anything out, the girl continued. "You show up here in the middle, trying to sit in the dark, and you look quite unhappy", boldness in her words earned her some respect from the brunette. "You seem to be completely different from everyone else here. Why?", Poppy lifted her head and found Bea's mysteriously gleaming eyes in the semi-darkness.

If the blonde had only known why Bea didn't belong here, she would have fled in terror like everyone else. Poppy was a lawyer, a fiancée, her life must have been so perfect she surely never experienced a blemish on her porcelain skin. Skin whose emanating warmth she could feel with every scrap of her taut body.

"So it seems", she replied indifferently, shoving all incorrect thoughts to the back of her mind. "Is it appropriate for you, the lawyer and future Mrs. Jackson, to maintain such closeness with a stranger?", she changed the subject turning the attention away from herself

She watched carefully as the girl's face changed expression, and only for a moment did she feel the need to close the distance and seal her lips in a kiss.

"I...", Poppy was about to say something, but she stopped at the beginning of her sentence. Any trace of a smile disappeared from her face. "I have to go now.", she said mysteriously, sounding like a completely different person, which drew interest from the brunette. She stood on her toes and innocently brushed her lips against the other girl's cheek, stopping near her ear. "Come tomorrow with my cousin to the wedding dress salon for my fitting. The more the better."

Bea nodded, watching the blonde's silhouette disappear among the rest of the dancing partygoers. Automatically her hand went to the place where Poppy's mouth had been and she sighed heavily.

This couldn't end well.

#going on a semi-hiatus so here is #old fic I found #idk #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #queen b #choices #playchoices #choices fic

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sinnaminsuga · 3 years

Text

New Royalty

(here's that supernatural cross over fic! i'm still not sure i'm happy with it how it turned out but here it is! 😂)

@indigosaurus @zealoushound @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @hope-to-hell @wendimydarling @infinite-shite @inlovewithhisblueeyes

Being a crossroads demon, life wasn’t easy. Especially so now, when you’re adjusting to becoming the fresh new King Of Hell. I wanted to continue my job as a crossroads demon because truthfully, I loved the work. But, being the King was a daunting task all on its own, so I let my number one Knight Of Hell, my brother (for all intents and purposes) Sy, handle the crossroads deals. And he had been doing an amazing job, snatching up souls left and right. But I could tell by the look on his face as he stormed into the great hall, that something had gone very very wrong.

“August, I can’t handle this chick anymore! She’s driving me fucking nuts! And she must be a lawyer or somethin’ because she knows her contracts man. But she’s driving me up the wall and I’m gonna gank this bitch with the First Blade if you don’t go talk to her.” Sy shouted through the hall as he approached my throne. The anger was rolling off of him in waves, scaring away the low level demons milling about.

“Sy what are you talking about?” I asked, flipping through pages of paperwork. “Listen, there’s this girl who keeps summoning me right? And there’s no offer I make her that will make her take the deal and eventually I get annoyed and I leave. And EVERY night she does this. She summons me EVERY. NIGHT. And this last time I went topside to see what she wanted and SHE ASKED TO SPEAK TO THE FUCKING MANAGER. Can you believe this shit?!” Sy said, finishing with an exasperated sigh.

“What’s her deal? Like what does she want?” I asked, genuinely curious about this strange woman and what she wanted. “Dude she won’t tell me! I told her whatever she wants is gonna cost her, her soul and I’ll come and collect it in 10 years. No dice. I offered 11 years, ya know an extra year to sweeten the pot but still no. She said the only way she’ll stop summoning me is if I give her a good enough deal or if I send my boss. August I can’t keep dealing with her. I have so much shit to do. You ever been zapped away in the middle of a battle with a leviathan? Because I can now say that I have! And it sucked! Please, I know you’re busy too but can you PLEASE deal with her?” Sy pleaded, kneeling at my feet, his hands clasped together.

“Fine. I’ll go up there just this once. But do not make it a constant thing to come in here asking me to do this. The King does not make it a habit to bend the rules for anyone. Not even his own brother.” I said, casting a glance down at him. I stood up from my throne and stretched out my arms and legs before heading to the crossroads.

When I arrived there was a stunning girl leaning against a shitty blue pick up truck, her head hanging low and her boot drawing patterns in the dirt. “Hey! You wanted to see me?” I called out, her head snapping up to look at me. “Yeah. Yeah I did.” She said. As she made her way closer to me I could sense there was something different about her. I don’t know how Sy couldn’t tell what she was but I definitely could.

“Ah ah ah sweetheart. I don’t trust angels. Drop the blade in the back of your truck or I’ll smoke outta here faster than you can blink alright?” I demanded. She was an angel. And not just in the sense that she was beautiful, no. She was a real angel. Hidden wings, angel blade, grace, and all. She was stunningly beautiful but terrifying at the same time. The blood beneath my skin thrummed with anticipation. What could this gorgeous, heavenly creature want from me?

“Oh! Oh right sorry! I forgot to ditch it because I didn’t know if you would actually come talk to me! I’m Y/N.” She replied with nervous laughter, throwing her sword into her truck. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at her. “So, what ever could you want to talk to me about? My brother said you’ve exhausted him. I suggest you don't try that with me, I'm far less forgiving.” I grinned.

“Well you see, the thing is, Sy didn’t understand what I wanted and I think it’s because he couldn’t tell what I was. I’m what's considered an archangel. One of the original angels that God created.” She said. “Oh honey I know exactly what you are. I could see it the minute my feet hit the ground up here. Dont waste my time with things I already know. Spit it out. Now.” I grumbled, growing impatient.

“Okay. So you obviously know my brother Lucifer, he used to be like your leader or whatever. But what no one knows is that I was supposed to fall too. Lucifer took the full blame even though everything that happened was half my fault. I believed in him and his cause but he insisted I stayed upstairs with Dad and the rest. When they found out I had conspired against them they locked me up for thousands of years. Can you believe that?! God forbid I’m a free thinker! Pun intended. I’ve finally gotten free and I needed to get the fuck out. I’m so angry and I just can’t stay there anymore!” Y/N growled. Her eyes were glowing with the force of her anger and it made the surrounding air sizzle.

This woman didn’t know it but she was having quite the effect on me. The cogs in my brain were spinning with all the ideas of what she would say next. “Y/N what do you want from me? There’s a reason you keep contacting my brother and I want to know why.”

“I want to strike a deal.” She said. “No shit sweetheart. That’s what everyone wants. I want to know what the deal is since you refuse to speak to Sy.” I huffed, growing tired of this game. Dancing around the point was never my favorite thing.

The beautiful stranger sauntered closer to me and splayed her hand over my chest before slowly lifting her gaze to meet my eyes. I could feel the warmth radiating from her palm and it made my skin tingle and the blood in my groin pulse. “Every king needs a queen right?” She said, grinning up at me. “You take me as your queen, and we all get what we want. I get to take my place in hell where I should have been a long time ago, and in return you get an extra set of hands and eyes to help you run the joint. I can help you August. Truly I can. And you can help me.” Y/N murmured, delicate fingers tracing over my chest.

I mulled it over for a moment, weighing the options and all that. It would be good to have a loyal partner to help me run my empire and she was beautiful and intriguing so I wouldn’t mind her being my wife. Also she had a great deal of power and with her in my arsenal I would never lose, should the opportunity of war arise. The decision was an easy one.

“Well if you know so much about crossroads deals, you know how we seal this contract don’t you?” I smirked, my eyes flashing to black. “Of course I do. I’ve been waiting for this part for weeks.” She said, her hand snaking around the back of my neck and pulling my face towards her. Our lips met in a heated clash and I could feel electricity pulsing from her body. A loud thunder clap sounded in the distance as her tongue slipped into my mouth. The feeling of kissing her was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. My hands began to roam her body and squeeze her flesh. She was so warm but so strong, like velvet covered steel. I couldn’t get enough of her. My lips moved to her neck and I tugged on her sensitive skin with my teeth. The whimper that fell from her lips sounded like paradise. She was clawing at my back and writhing against me and all I had done was kiss her. Her responses to my touch were amazing and I never wanted this to end. I pulled back for a moment to catch my breath and she whined like I’d stabbed her. I pressed my lips to the shell of her ear before whispering, “Sweetheart, if we keep going at it like this I’m going to have no choice but to fuck you on the very ground you stand on.”

“So do it. I want you to. I’m yours now.” She snarled. Before I could register what was happening, she hooked her right leg behind mine and shoved at my chest, effectively bringing me to the ground. Once we landed, I began kissing her again, my snaking my tongue into her mouth. She audibly moaned when I ground my hard length against her clothed center.

“Baby, I’m all about dry-humping but if you don’t hurry up and get inside me I actually might explode. And the last time an archangel exploded, cities were leveled and people were killed.” She giggled. “Keep sweet talking me honey. Death and destruction are a demons favorite things.” I groaned into her neck, a mischievous smile on my lips, before I sank my teeth into her neck. She laughed aloud, the sound like bells, and I never wanted to hear anything else ever again.

She took my face in her small hands, her beautiful eyes scanning my face before whispering “Take me home August. It’s where we belong.”

THE END

#mine #henry cavill #the cavillry #supernatural #august walker #captain syverson

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somedayonbroadway · 4 years

Note

Oh my god!!! I remember “The Resistance”. That was so freaking good! Have you ever planned to continue that story? It was so interesting, I feel like you should’ve gotten so much more love for that

A Lawyer

Prolouge

A Journalist

A/N: Hi Anon! I actually hadn’t truly planned on continuing this story when I had first started writing it. I wrote the prologue expecting no one to really like it or care about it too much, but I enjoy writing this, so I’m gonna try to keep going if you guys really would like to see more. I really hope you enjoy David’s chapter! I encourage ya’ll to reread Katherine’s chapter, since I change one small but slightly significant thing. Thank you all!

Please enjoy!

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It was always in perfect timing. The way the pen hit the desk time and time again was at the same interval every time.

“Les…”

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

“Les, please. I’m trying to concentrate.”

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

“Leslie Carter Jacobs, I’m trying to work!”

The ticking stopped.

It didn’t make anyone feel any better.

“David!” someone scolded.

David’s head hurt. “Sarah, can you at least take him into another room? Please? I’m really trying to work,” he insisted, looking back onto his desk where there were a pile of files and textbooks and notes sitting, waiting for him.

He couldn’t stop. He had to keep studying. He had to keep writing. He had to keep working. He couldn’t stop now. He rubbed at his tired eyes and straightened up in his seat, trying to focus again.

The second he tried to open a new file, a hand came down and stopped him. He looked up to find fiercely driven eyes. “David, studying is not going to us anywhere and you know it.”

“Denton needs the case files back, Sarah. I have to get them done—“

“And your little brother needs you right now!” the young woman countered, pointing over to the little boy sitting silently in a chair on the other side of the room at the kitchen table.

For the first time in a long time, David forced himself to turn, his heart breaking at the sight. That little boy, not even ten years old, would always hold his entire heart. He hadn’t seen Les smile in weeks.

He hadn’t heard Les speak in weeks.

What was once a little ball of energy, spouting out what he believed in like he’d always been taught was now a shell of a little boy who was so quiet and lost.

The world was so much darker than it had once been, in every sense of the word.

So David sighed and stood to his feet, offering Sarah an apologetic glance before he made his way over to the little boy, leaning on the table beside him. “Les… I’m sorry, bubeleh…” he spoke softly, reaching to run a hand through the boy’s hair. Les used to push him away.

He hardly moved now.

“Les… please look at me?” he asked, pushing away from the table and sitting on his knees beneath the child, looking up at him now as Sarah stepped up behind him. “I didn’t mean it. I’m just… I’m stressed out. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” He waited, almost as though he expected the boy to speak to him even though deep down he knew that was not the case. “Can you forgive me?”

Only glancing up at him, Les nodded, gripping at the sides of his chair now, desperately trying to keep himself from fidgeting. He knew David didn’t like it when he fidgeted. All David could do was let out a breath before leaning over to press a kiss to the child’s head. Les did not react. Not really. He just sat there, tears building up in his eyes all over again. David did not know what to do.

He turned, ready to ask Sarah for help again, before he caught her snooping through the papers on his desk. “Neshama—“

“This is Aba and Ima’s case file, isn’t it?” she breathed. That was what got Les to look up.

David rushed over, pulling the file from the young woman’s hands. “You don’t need to look at that,” he tried to explain.

“And you do?” There were tears in Sarah’s eyes, no doubt the images and words in that case file forever engraved in her mind. “David… What did they do? This says they committed treason—“

“I know what it says, Sarah!” The man tried to breathe. Snapping at his family would get him nowhere, he knew that. Still, exhaustion of every form seemed to catch up with him all at once and he could hardly handle it. He couldn’t break now. He had to keep going. He had to figure this out. “Les… please go to your room…” he asked quietly, only glancing back at the boy who had wide, terrified brown eyes gazing up at him.

Eventually, the child did as he was told. So David focused his attention on Sarah, who was simply standing there, waiting for an explanation. “Denton found these for me. He’s trying to help me fight to free them. We’re doing all we can, but Habeas Corpus was suspended and The Angel Army isn’t the police. This is how they’re doing things now…”

It was no secret, the impending war that was inevitable now. Someone was trying to take over New York, slowly working their way into power before trying for the entire country. They couldn’t get out unless they had a visa to get out. At least, not at the airport. Some were trying to drive, getting caught by The Angel Army at the border. Most that fled, fled to Canada. Canada was very welcoming of this as they saw an entire people in trouble. But not everyone could flee.

David knew from the beginning he wouldn’t make it out.

“David, what are we gonna do?” Sarah whispered, fear clear in her voice.

In all honesty, David had no idea. So he said nothing, choosing instead to avert his gaze to the floor.

“Say something!” Sarah demanded desperately, tears falling down her cheeks.

She knew as well as anyone what was coming for her.

“You know I won’t let anything happen to you or Les,” he insisted, his voice quiet and low, almost as though he was scared someone might be listening.

Someone might’ve been listening.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

A groan escaped David. He hadn’t meant it.

For weeks they’d been trying to figure out what to do with a boy who wouldn’t speak anymore. All he would do was take that stupid pen to any hard surface and begin the excruciating tap that made David want to tear his hear out whenever he needed to focus.

Before he could ask his brother to stop the tapping again, there was a knock on his door. His heart dropped. His gaze rushed to Sarah. “Get Les and hide in the chest at the foot of his bed.” There was no room for argument. So Sarah rushed from the room. The ticking stopped. As soon as David heard the small thud of the chest closing, he took a breath and reached for the handle of the door, opening it cautiously. He could’ve cried in relief when he saw who it was. “Denton—“

“David, we don’t have time. Where are your brother and sister?” It would forever amaze David how calm Denton seemed to be.

“They’re hiding. I thought you were—“

“The Angel Army is right behind me. I managed to secure space on a smugglers truck,” he forced out. “There’s only room enough for two.”

David paled.

“David, there’s are no more rules—“

“Professor—“

“They broke into my building. They trashed the place. They took good people down. They tampered with evidence. The laws don’t matter to them. They traced your computer from mine. Delete everything you have and tell me where Sarah and Les are. Now.” Tears built up in his eyes as David tried desperately to remember how to breathe again. With a shaky hand, he pointed to Les’s bedroom. Denton nodded, rushing through the room. “Okay. I’ll get them. Delete all evidence on your computer, David! Don’t give them a reason to take you!” With that, he rushed into the room.

David opened his computer back up, finding a picture of his parents staring back at him, smiling, happy and so ready to protect him from the world.

He let out a shaken breath as the files and articles and everything else popped back up. And he began deleting everything he could. Every file, every document.

And suddenly his hand began shaking. He froze over an article, his eyes scanning the thing one more time.

August 27th, 2095

Riot Breaks Out In Lower Manhattan

Two killed, thirteen injured.

Written by Katherine Plumber

Then, just below it, another.

November 9th, 2095

Sun Ace Reporter Missing

Woman Number 18 Missing in New York

Written by Adam Darcy

He looked back, seeing Denton coming back out with his family in tow. So he looked back at that screen and deleted everything that was left.

“David, what’s going on?”

Les was in Sarah’s arms, clinging to her, scared to death. Sarah was refusing to show her own fear. All David could do was shake his head. “Sarah, I’m so sorry…”

Sarah tried to run to him. Denton held her back. “We don’t have time.”

“Sarah, tell Les that I love him, everyday,” David pleaded.

She shook her head. “No. No, I’m not leaving,” she insisted, though it was clear in her voice she was on the verge of breaking. “Denton, you can take Les. I am not leaving—“

“Sarah…” David choked, tears falling down his cheeks when he saw her distress. “I love you…” he whispered.

The young woman let out a sob and pushed past Denton and into David’s arms. “I love you, Neshama,” she breathed into his ear, knowing what had to be done.

This was her last chance.

David held his sister and his brother for a moment, pressing a kiss to both of their heads before he heard sirens. “You have to go!”

He looked up to Denton who gave him a heartbroken look as he ushered the two most important people in David’s life out the door, turning back to the boy for only a moment. “David…” he called. Looking back only for a moment, he caught the young man’s gaze.

Twenty three.

So young.

“Run.”

It was all David could do to comply, using the fire escape and running for his life through a city that was once known as the greatest city in the world.

——————————————————

One of the brightest, loudest cities in the world…

It used to be so bright…

David could remember a time when he’d wished he could see the stars.

Now he just wished to be home again, where the sky didn’t matter as much as the people around him.

“Mayer!”

Sometimes David swore he’d hear his father answer to his name when it was called. It always took him a moment to remember all because he didn’t want to. He wanted to be able to get lost in a dream that was so far out of his reach. He couldn’t. He had to stay focused. He had to stay in the moment.

“Yes, sir?”

“Where’s my coffee?!”

“Coming, sir.”

Coffee.

He’d give anything for something stronger.

He didn’t used to drink. At least, not much. Especially not around Les.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

He did it without noticing now.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

He tried not to think about it, though it consumed his mind more often than not.

All he wanted was to know that his family was safe.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

He’d give anything to turn around and see his little brother.

He swore silently to himself he’d never snap at that little boy again.

Only, that boy wasn’t so little anymore.

And that boy might not be anywhere where he could get to him.

“Walsh! Coffee!”

David tensed at the tone, shaking his head as he shoved his pen in his pocket and grabbing a mug from the cabinet above him and pouring the coffee from the coffee pot just as it was ready.

He exhaled smoothly, trying to clear his head as he turned, only to find someone standing just behind him, arms across their chest.

He nearly dropped the coffee.

“Sophia…” he breathed when he saw her, her red hair tied up at the back of her head, some of her curls falling to frame her face. She wore no makeup. She wasn’t allowed. Not unless her husband gave her permission.

Her chocolate brown eyes were wide, a bit shocked. David didn’t blame her.

He opened his mouth to speak.

Someone beat him to it. “Mayer! Now!”

“Coming, sir!”

Sophia averted her gaze to the floor.

She wasn’t supposed to be in a room with a man that wasn’t her husband alone.

There were rules set in place. Rules to protect her. At least, that's what they said.

He couldn’t stop to talk. He had to get the man his coffee.

So, with one more glance at the young woman he was not truly supposed to speak to, he rushed up the stairs and out of the room, shaking his head as he reached his destination. “Coffee, sir. Sorry for the wait…” he apologized, his head slightly bowed as he entered an extravagant office that stood beautifully behind two large brown doors.

None of the man’s wives were allowed in.

Women weren’t allowed to read or write. There was nothing of importance for them there.

David cringed at the thought.

The man hardly looked up as David set his coffee on his desk for him, watching him write in the book he always was writing in. He longed to read it.

Nothing about this new society made sense. Whoever was in charge made sure of that. But David wasn’t an idiot.

There was no one person in charge.

That’s why no one could stop this.

They didn’t know who they were trying to stop.

They didn’t know how many they were trying to stop.

But if David had one thing left on his side, it was his drive. “Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Weisel?” he asked, folding his hands in front of him and biting at his lip.

The man, Mr. Weisel, took a sip of his coffee. He waved his hand over to some files and books on his desk. “Just put those away for me, Walsh,” he grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face.

David took the things and did as he was told.

Just not right away.

Mayer Walsh might be a simple assistant to an important man in Safe Haven.

David Jacobs was a law student just about ready to explode.

To play the game, one had to first know the rules. And once one was in the game, one had a chance to win.

Right?

It was not the first time David had done this. And it wouldn’t be the last.

He took the files over to the filing cabinet on the opposite side of the room, taking old files out as he placed new ones in, hiding them beneath his dull, brown blazer.

“Anything else I can do for you, sir?” he asked, turning his back to the man and waiting for a response.

He got a grunt as a response that he could only assume was a no.

When he tried to leave, he noticed brown eyes peeking in through the small crack in the door. His heart stuttered for a moment as he thought he might be ratted out right then and there.

But those eyes only blinked before leaving.

Still, David stood paralyzed on the spot.

“Is there a problem, Walsh?”

“N-no problem, sir…” the young man forced out, clearing his throat before he tightened his grip on the hidden files he held. Files he’d been reading and sneaking off with for months.

With adrenaline coursing through his veins, David forced himself from the room, finding his way out of the house and into the backyard where there was a small shed set up to be a guest room of sorts.

He looked around in the dark night, just trying to make sure he hadn’t been followed before he pulled the thin door open and locked himself in, dropping the files down on a dimly lit table.

Then he pulled the pen from his pocket and glanced up at the clock that hung sadly and lonely on the wall beside him.

He had exactly one hour before Weisel would notice something was off. Before Weisel opened that filing cabinet again.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

He hit the table in perfect timing.

Perfect intervals ever time, his beat never wavering.

He could do this.

He’d known from the beginning he wouldn't be making it out.

All he had to do was stay focused.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Perfect timing.

A/N: Okay, so there’s admittedly a lot going on in this chapter where we sort of learn more about this world and what was happening before. If you guys have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask!

Thank you so much for reading!

Thank you so much for bringing back this story, Anon!

—

Tag List

@that-thing-in-the-closet

@deadthingsinlace

@albert-eats-cookie-cake

@myheartissetinmotion

@and-i-lostmy-shoe

@thatnerdinthecorner

@happyhufflepuff73

@thatchaoticneutraltrainwreck

@bluejay-the-newsie

@addyez

@falling-out-trees-101

@i-aint-tapped-out

@buttons-in-the-refuge

Let me know if anyone would like to be adding or taken off of the tag list, please!

#newsies #newsies live #newsies musical #newsies au #david jacobs #katherine plumber #the resistance #dystopian world #dystopia #angst #sarah jacobs #les jacobs #lawyers #lawyer

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cinebration · 4 years

Text

By My Rules (Quentin Beck x Reader) [Part 9]

S.H.I.E.L.D. comes knocking.

Warnings: mild language

Gif Source: batwan

S.H.I.E.L.D. knocked on the door right on schedule.

You sat in a chair in the waiting area of Fury’s office, perched nonchalantly in your seat as you avoided the tense gaze of his assistant, Alyssa Margrove. When you had walked in for your appointment with Fury—a mandatory interview to hopefully get you a job as a consulting therapist—the woman had seized up in her chair, practically shriveling in place.

You had extended your hand and introduced yourself smoothly, saving face. Alyssa feigned the same ignorance and had gestured you to a seat twenty minutes earlier.

The door to Fury’s office burst open. Fury and Hill swept out from it in standard fashion, all business. Hill paused before you as Fury strode on, his eyepatch preventing him from seeing you.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but your interview will have to be rescheduled,” she said.

“Oh, okay. Is everything alright?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, ma’am.” Nodding, Hill followed out on Fury’s heels.

As the door slowly swung shut behind them, you read Fury’s lips: “Beck isn’t fooling me this time.”

A chord of excitement bordering on fear rang deep in your chest. Curling your fingers beneath the edge of the chair, you pressed the small camera into place, pointing it at the office doors.

Rising, you turned to Alyssa. “When can you reschedule my interview?”

She perused the calendar. “I have nine forty-five Tuesday morning.”

“That’ll do.”

You hurried out of the office, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Returning your visitor’s badge to the front desk and signing your alias on the sign-out sheet, you prevented yourself from sprinting to the car, your phone in your hand.

Fury and co. were undoubtedly halfway to the house. Not enough time for you to catch up. Instead, as you threw yourself into the front seat, you dialed Quentin.

He picked up on the first ring. “Please tell me the interview went well.”

“Fury’s coming to see you.”

“What did you say to him?”

“I didn’t get to have the interview,” you snapped. “Looks like S.H.I.E.L.D. caught wind of you finally.”

“Are you coming home?”

“I spent hours scrubbing all the files they could find of us together so that they wouldn’t immediately connect me to you. No, I’m not showing my face there.”

You could sense Quentin pulling a disappointed frown. “I wish you were here for this.”

Reaching into the backseat for your laptop, you answered, “I will be, in a sense. Now, you know what to do.”

“Yes. The performance.”

The laptop open on the seat beside you, you moused over to the security system app you had installed. “Don’t lay it on too thick.”

“I would never.”

“They figured out you were going to kill Fury during London. Try to be less obvious.”

Clicking on the app, you pulled up the camera feeds from inside the house. You found Quentin in the bathroom, smoothing out his hair but loosening his tie to make it seem like he had returned from a long day.

“You’ve got this,” you assured him.

He glanced up at the camera and winked. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

You settled in for the show.

Fury all but kicked the door down. Sweeping into the house, he stood in the hallway as S.H.I.E.L.D. agents swarmed in from behind him. Fury followed after them, Hill at his side.

They found Quentin sitting at the island in the kitchen, hands raised and a frightened, confused expression on his face. His gaze shifted from each individual gun the agents had pointed at him to Fury.

“Quentin Beck,” Fury declared. “You think you’re so clever.”

Quentin hesitated, eyebrows bunching together. “I’m not that guy.”

“Sure, sure.” Fury gestured at Hill. “Cuff him, please.”

“No, really. I know who you’re talking about. That guy from London, right? The superhero?” He eyed Hill warily as she circled him. “All my peers kept saying I looked like him. You can ask them.”

“Save it for the jury.”

“My name is Dr. Ludwig Rinehart. I’m a psychiatrist. Maybe you’ve heard of me? I was featured in People last year.”

Hill seized him by the wrist and yanked it behind his back. He grimaced but didn’t resist.

“How can I be that guy? Didn’t he die?”

“We’re not falling do your tricks this time,” Hill said as she brought the other arm around his back.

“I have to say,” Fury muttered, “this is all pretty impressive. The lengths you go…”

Quentin struggled against the mild alarm rising through his nervous system as the cuffs clicked shut around his wrists. “Wasn’t that guy a hero or something?”

“Far from it, Beck.” Fury leaned close. “You may have the world fooled, but we know the truth.”

“The truth is I’m a psychiatrist! I’ve lived here for the past five years. I have friends and colleagues who can tell you that. Hell, I was in session with Martha Schlesinger when the London stuff happened!”

Doubt flickered for a moment across Fury’s face. He glanced at Hill.

“That’s that news anchor,” she supplied. “The one who reported on the other issue.”

Quentin’s ears pricked up at this, but he maintained the flustered expression on his face.

Fury’s frown deepened.

A young S.H.I.E.L.D. agent with dirty blonde hair coughed quietly and offered, “Supposedly, there are seven doppelgangers of anyone on this planet living at the same time.”

Fury shot him a glare, silencing the agent. Returning his attention to Quentin, he stared him down. Quentin met his gaze for only a moment before looking everywhere else, shaken by the glare.

“We’ll sort that out at the office,” Fury declared.

Hill yanked Quentin away from the island. Struggling against his frustration and anxiety, he glared up at one of the cameras in the hallway as Hill marched him out of the house.

“Fuck,” you swore as you watched the live feed. This wasn’t part of the plan. Fury was never supposed to be the first to come calling. But of course he did, the paranoid fuck.

Slamming the laptop shut, your mind raced, cycling through contingencies. Schlesinger would lie to S.H.I.E.L.D. She had experienced a breakdown during the weeks leading up to London and hadn’t even questioned it when Quentin had claimed to have been treating her during that time, her memory so disjointed she couldn’t recall the real doctor.

The lawyer Quentin would call would easily present the documentation and a solid argument testifying to his Rinehart identity. The paper trail was perfect, including pictures all the way back to Rinehart’s birth.

Fury and co. would have to buy it.

There was nothing to do but wait and see.

#Quentin Beck x Reader #Quentin Beck #Mysterio x Reader #Mysterio #Jake Gyllenhaal #Jake Gyllenhaal imagine #Spider-Man: Far From Home #Spider Man Far From Home #FFH

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zerot0all · 5 years

Text

Bloodline .4. | M

Mafia Theme

!Chapter 4- Part One!

.CHANGBIN POV.

I was wrong. I was held up at the police station clearly for a whole day, I was taken in before the sun even came up and I was out way past midnight the following day. Fucking bullshit. Those scum bags had fun pushing me around , making me feel like some street thug with no credentials. Like as if I wasn’t from the family of one of the most powerful mobsters in Korea.

I was hellbent on getting out of there fast and head back to y/n’s place but the fucking surprise I got once I was out was one I would have never expected.

“And where the fuck did they find you?” Father nearly growls as I step foot into his office, his henchmen picked me up as soon as my lawyer cleaned up the mess. The last place I wanted to be at was my fathers home. I rolled my eyes as I massaged my wrist. Those fuckers tightened the cuffs to the point of pain, making me bleed. I’ll show them, they don’t know me.

“Doesn’t matter,” I reply shortly , making my way towards his mini bar. I needed a drink. Whiskey. Something strong to take the edge off. Since I was rushed out , I didn’t have much time to admire my beautiful kitten. Her eyes, they were beyond hurt. I didn’t want to bring this battle to her doorstep, I didn’t want her involved in anything but I couldn’t stay away.

She doesn’t want me, or any of this. She’s far too good for a criminal like myself.

“The fuck it does Changbin, who the fuck were you with? Were you slumming it down with those wanna be hustlers across the river?” He grits, his fist slamming down on his redwood desk.

“What? And ruin all my chances of taking the empire from beneath your feet... I would never .” I say in a taunting manner , Father knew I was next to rule and he hated it. At times I feel like he hated my own guts , wished I was never born but here we are.

“He must of been with a lady friend,” Jisung spoke up, almost jokingly. One of my right hand men, he was a sucker for father. So it was only obvious to have him and Chris join me in my entourage. Father cocked his brow , unamused.

“You mean to tell me the cops found you with your whore!” He spat making me see red, anger slowly boiling within me.

“Honestly son, I thought I raised you better.” The old man huffs , surprised with my actions. Like as if I had such a great upbringing in my life, watching that sick bastard fuck anyone with legs and a cunt.

“Honestly father, I still don’t know who my mother is ... so , I think we’re even here, huh?” I grin, joking as I sip the last of my drink and proceeded to head out. I could hear him yell for me but I was done , I was eager to get the fuck out of there and actually do something about all these deaths. Murders to be exact ... I know I’m guilty for other crimes but fresh blood on my hands has not been on my agenda for a while.

“Where do you want me to drive you?” Chris asks as we hop into his Audi, I think intensively.

“I wanna have a word with Mister Park,” I say almost nonchalantly, both Chris and Jisung turn towards me.

“You’re kidding ? Your father will have us both killed if Mister Park doesn’t do it himself ,” Jisung spoke up, anger clear in his voice.

“Mixing business like this is bad Changbin, especially since this war has been going on for years. Way before we were even born. Don’t go adding more wood to a fire that’s already blazing.” Chris, the wise one out of us three. At times , he spoke more like a father than my actual father ever did.

“I really need to talk to him , I can’t explain anything right now . Just ... trust me.” I pleaded. I needed some answers to a very important question that has been stuck in my head since I got hauled out of y/n’s apartment.

In this world you have the all powerful and the one right under it , awaiting the fall of that empire.

The Seo Mob is top notch , while the Park Clan are a close second. Growing up, I never knew I would ever be in this predicament... going in to talk to the one and only Mister Park. Who knew that son of a bitch’s blood would run through the veins of someone I cherish more than my very own life.

Who knew... I would be stepping over boundaries that have been set in stone for years only to find out if y/n’s father is behind this whole mess.

Still pensive about my next actions , Chris follows through, driving me across town to Park Industrial. No one has spoken , Jisung started adding more bullets to our guns... just to be safe. But I didn’t want to think about that. I didn’t feel like spilling more blood , I didn’t feel like any of these killings were meant to bring attention to the Seo family as a whole .. but to me.

I could feel it in my bones that he was targeting me... and only me.

“I’m hoping nothing goes down... I just need to have a word with him. That’s all,” I reassure my men, both of them strapped and ready for whatever could happen.

“Hope is a funny word ... especially in our lifestyle, Bin.” Jisung quips , unamused with anything at this moment. I knew this was foolish of me and I know anything could happen , but this is something I must do.

***

“And what may I ask is the special occasion, having you cross over into my property, on my side of town in broad daylight. Are we getting brave Mr Seo?” Mister Park humors me , his slim tall figure standing by the bookcase. His office was dark, almost dungeon like. Reds and black colors took over my vision, the closer I got to his desk.

“I have matters in which I need to speak face to face with you, Mister Park. A phone call seemed kind of redundant... don’t you think?” I replied , watching as he cocked his brow; almost amused. He took his seat, his eyes not once leaving mine. After what seemed like a while, he motioned for me to sit.

“You’re all the town is talking about , what do kids say nowadays... you’re the hot topic? Care to explain what a murderer like yourself needs to speak to me about ?” He’s fast with his remarks , not once blinking as his words jab me deep. I swallow , needing to hold back my anger.

“It’s funny you say that ... since I think we both know who’s behind all that mess..” I counter. Mister Park sits, unmoving then lazily glares at my men, who wait by the door next to his men. Chris and Jisung both glanced at eachother , wondering what I had up my sleeve.

“Oh , do we now?” The vile behind his tone seemed almost laughable.

“Of course, it was a messy set up. I mean, come on ... a knife? What are you... a rookie?” I chuckle throwing my head back in delight. Mister Park cleared his throat , motioning a hand to his men meant leaving us both alone in his office. After the door closed , Mister Park pulled on his tie. He was nervous, but aside from that , he was embarrassed. We were in silence , a bright smile on my face as he tried to regain his control. It wasn’t till he huffed a laugh that got me confused.

“You Seo men think you know everything. Always out to take over the world, not knowing what exactly is going on at home, huh?” His tone was fluid, harsh but yet a hint of pain hid behind his words.

I was lost.

“Pardon ?” I query.

“Before this whole lifestyle took over our lives , did your father ever mention why we started a war? Did he ever tell you the story of the game changer? Before the drugs, before the international trading, before the money. Huh?” Mister Park spat, his fist balled showing white knuckles full of anger. I was tempted to reply with a smart ass note but , for some odd reason my mind went blank. I couldn’t say shit, and he knew it as he chuckled loudly.

“Of course he wouldn’t tell you ... once a bitch, always a bitch. Your father has always been a conniving double crosser , whatever he got his eye on... he took it. And , at one moment , it was my wife.” He snarled , the memories burning a hole in his mind . A sensitive topic that could fuck any man up. My father coveted another mans wife? I was speechless , my mouth opened and shut , unable to form words. I knew my father was a sick bastard but this was news to me. Mister Park abruptly stood, grabbing a glass that he had on his desk and threw it across the room. It shattered instantly , my anxiety coming back.

“Tell me ... do you have siblings?” Mister Park finally asks , glancing over his shoulder as he makes his way back to his bookshelves. My brows furrowed , the sudden anxiety and anger coming to light, mixing into something new.

“No, but you knew that already.” My reply was quick, it was no secret I am the only son to the Seo Mob. I am next to reign in Korea... everyone knew that. Mister Park smiled , nodding as if he understood. Meanwhile , I was boiling with news I had no knowledge about. I felt useless , what the fuck is he talking about?

“You ever wonder who your mother might be?”

I froze. My heartbeat became no more, the sudden raw emotion running through my veins was cold. That question. That million dollar question.

“Where are you getting at Park?” I dropped formalities as a raging fury crawled up my spine. This was ridiculous. Mister Park cocked his brow , once again. This all seemed like a joke to him as he leaned over his desk, both palms expanded over his dark wood. His eyes demeaning , glaring into me.

“What if I told you ... I knew your mother.”

•••••

[MS]

-This is part 1 of Chapter 4... because I need to add more info to this mini drama. So, please enjoy this till the next part. 😈 love ya 💕

PART ONE WILL HAVE THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS LINKED.

*btw. found the pic on google. credits to the owner.*

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goodbyecringe · 4 years

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(Un)Natural Selection Chapter 18

Éponine

Enjolras spent the plane ride jumping from each Elite girl arranging date after date. I knew forcing the kiss last night would throw him over the edge. He would have never considered me to be anything more than his political partner if I hadn’t initiated that kiss. I could tell that he was questioning how long he would keep me in the Selection and I wasn’t here with the right intentions. But I must have offended him because he hadn’t made eye contact with me since we boarded the plane.

I fidgeted with the black sleeves on my dress until Cosette moved to sit across from me. She, like the rest of The Elite, was in a conservative black dress that had long sleeves, since the weather had begun to grow colder. I had never seen her in any remotely dark color, but even in black, she radiated positivity. We sat together in silence preparing for the solemn occasion while Claudia made rounds to each group of girls to brief them about the proper protocol.

“Under absolutely no circumstance should you smile, grin, doze off, or move your eyes excessively. You are not to take any of the attention away from Prince Enjolras and the meaning of this trip,” Claudia said in a serious tone.

“Where should we look? Should we look directly at Enjolras or out into the crowd?” Cosette asked.

I would have never been able to think of that question.

“I would encourage you to give your attention to His Highness. If the press believes you’re disinterested they might try to create a new story.”

Cosette gave a deep nod of understanding.

“Do you have any questions Miss Éponine?” Claudia asked.

I felt like I had to come up with something, even if Claudia would berate me for it.

“How should we sit? Are we all tucking our left or right ankles?” I asked.

“Well you will all be sitting stage right, so I would recommend universally tucking the right ankle so it points to His Highness,” she thought, bringing her hand to her face.

“What a great question, Éponine! I would have tucked my left ankle,” Cosette lied to make me look better in front of Claudia.

Claudia quickly began to clarify with the other Elite so there wouldn’t be any misconceptions about how we were to sit. I rolled my eyes as Cosette laughed.

“You didn’t have to lie just to save me from the wrath of Claudia,” I smiled.

“I didn’t lie, the nuns taught me that lying is never acceptable. I really could have tucked my left ankle,” she shrugged as I rolled my eyes.

We sat in silence, watching Enjolras move from May to a solitary seat towards the front of the plane. I could only assume that he had exhausted himself socializing with all of the girls so quickly.

“Don’t you think it’s refreshing to be out of the palace, Éponine?” Cosette asked.

“I guess. I don’t really mind being stuck in the palace all of the time.”

“Yes, it is rather beautiful. But I did start to get cabin fever a few months ago, but thanks to Enjolras I can now go out to the garden whenever I want,” she smiled.

I was surprised to hear that since none of the Selected girls were permitted in the gardens without permission due to safety concerns. Enjolras had bent the rules for Cosette, so were they closer than I had realized? Then again, Enjolras bent the rules for me every time I went to a meeting with Les Amis.

“When is your next date?” I slipped, not thinking before I spoke.

“He wants to go horseback riding after breakfast tomorrow. Listening to the other girls it sounds like he has a busy week ahead of him,” she frowned.

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked, wondering what had upset the usually bubbly Cosette.

“I’m just worried that Enjolras doesn’t reciprocate any of our feelings. I mean he’s jumping about to make all of these dates so quickly that I’m not sure what's going through his head,” she frowned, looking out of the window.

“Do you love him?”

“He’s very kind to me and I can tell that he cares about me, but I don’t know if I would say I’m in love with him. Papa told me that when you’re in love, you just know. I’ve read books that say when you fall in love it’s like being born again and it’s like nothing else matters. Have you ever felt like that?”

“I think, maybe a little,” I smiled.

I felt my face heat up as I began to picture Marius, who had been so kind to me since we met. Of course, Enjolras was also kind and generous, but he felt more like an intellectual challenge than my soulmate. Whenever I became sad or angry I knew that his calming letters could fix any situation. Even the pictures of Paris had become a sanctuary after listening to Teresa brag for several hours in the Women’s Room. And even though my life would be forever changed for good if I won the Selection and married Enjolras, Marius was different. We didn’t spend any of our time talking about politics, even though Marius was a lawyer. We spoke about poems and the worlds we wished we could live in. Marius was the only person that knew of my family’s origin. And yet, despite knowing my horrible secret, and he still wrote to me regularly.

When we landed in Carolina, there were more press members than I had ever seen, even more than the day I flew to Angeles. We were instructed to keep a solemn expression as long as we remained in the public eye, to express the seriousness of the occasion. The airport was louder than anything I could remember. Reporters were screaming their questions at all of us and while some of them focused on the crime, most of them concerned the Selection.

“Lady Teresa, who are you wearing?”

“Lady Adele, have you and the Prince kissed?”

“Lady Éponine, how does it feel to cheat the caste system?”

I felt the anger begin to grow so hot that my blood could boil. Illeá was divided on a Six making The Elite. Some thought that I was the perfect picture of Lower Caste representation while others thought that I was a greedy, heartless whore that had slept my way to the top. But both sides were wrong because I wasn’t pristine or heartless. But the longer I was in the palace the more I agreed that the money was a large influence and after last night’s kiss, how far would I go to stay here? Justine had written to me that there was enough money for Azelma, Mercer, and me to attend the most expensive university in Illeá. I didn’t have anything to gain by staying in The Selection any longer. Although, as I sat on the stage with my right ankle tucked I remembered what Enjolras said last night.

He didn’t want me to leave, even after I told him that I was a Six. I had completely forgotten that Enjolras knew I was just like any other servant that worked in the palace. I stared at him while he delivered an emotional and empowering speech on the importance of unity. His blonde curls appeared darker, like the circles under his eyes, showing that he hadn’t slept after he left my room. I noticed that here he stood firm and tall which opposed how he spoke wildly with his hands at the Cafe. Was I really the only member of the Elite that had seen the real Enjolras? Did Enjolras bring the other girls to kitchens to make them sandwiches? Was he lying when he said he didn’t have feelings for me?

Just as Enjolras began to reach the conclusion of his speech I could hear the crowd begin to scream. Enjolras stopped speaking, something I had never seen unless it was me that interrupted him. A loud bang rang through the crowd and all hell broke loose. Citizens ran in every direction trying to move to safety away from the shooter. Another gunshot rang through the area and my body began to move before I could control it. I felt myself jump past the guards that were beginning to shield the Elite and Enjolras. I felt my heel snap beneath my weight as I collided with the Reports that were fleeing.

I smelled him before he grabbed me. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes brought me back sleepless nights on the pull-out couch while Azelma snored lightly. All of the memories of screaming matches, beatings, and the slow-burning pains associated with being a human ashtray made me stop in my tracks. My father grabbed me by my arm and marched me into one of the many buildings that surrounded City Hall. The knife pointed into my side would tighten whenever I would try to fight him and eventually Babet caught up to us so he could hold his gun to my back. When we finally reached our destination, I was handcuffed to a pole on the wall.

“Are you crazy?” I screamed at my father before he slapped me across my face.

“You don’t write, you don’t call, if I didn’t know any better I would say you’ve been avoiding your dear Papa,” he growled.

“Well it’s good to know there really is something in the space between your ears,” I spit at him.

“You little brat, I’ll kill you right here!” He screamed, holding the knife to my neck.

“Go ahead. I’m sure you’ll get away even though the Royal Family would pool all of their resources to find my killer. Your little gang would be discovered and you would all hang,” I snarled.

My face was numb after the third slap.

“Listen here you brat, you’re going to do a job for us. Call it insurance, in case that Prince finds himself a better hussy for his bed. You’re going to start giving Montparnasse the attention he deserves or you’ll get some well-deserved visits. Of course, you should know that If you tell anyone, you can kiss your loverboy goodbye,” he sneered.

I wanted to scream but I was being suffocated as something was held over my face. Everything was becoming fuzzy as I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness. When I woke up, it felt like a fever dream. Joly and Combeferre were above my head having a serious discussion.

“We should tell Enjolras about these scars and burns. She was clearly being abused before she came here,” Combeferre whispered.

“That would violate confidentiality, ‘Ferre. We can’t make exceptions to the rule,” Joly refuted.

“If Enjolras knew how bad it really was he might stop ignoring his feelings for ‘Ponine. If his mother didn’t tell him that he needed to see the other Elite, he’d probably stayed here until she was discharged.”

My mind started racing just as everything began to go fuzzy again.

#enjonine #eponine #enjolras #prince enjolras #the selection #les miserables #fanfiction #crossov #crossposted #ao3 #combeferre #joly #modern au

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codezeta-liveblog-blog · 5 years

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Damages 2.1 - Council of Future Plotpoints

Damages huh. To what or to who? Probably to everyone, to the balance itself. If Blake is to continue being the protagonist, he has to get some yet to be seen advantage over everyone else. Which no one expects. Which will probably fuck everyone up. Cant wait, lets go.

> The pen scribbled across the paper. > > Weapons. A knife, a larger weapon if I could manage it. A gun would be ideal but hard to find. Different Others had different drawbacks and weaknesses. Ideally I’d be able to pick up an assortment of weapons in a variety of materials. The problem was, I wasn’t sure where I could get those things. > > That raised several more questions. I needed a better way to get information. Internet. I needed a way to buy supplies, if my cash reserve ran out. Money. > > I switched to another piece of paper, this one headed with the word ‘Needs’. Beneath clothes and a brief shopping list of food staples that would last me a while, I added the two new points about internet access and needing to contact the lawyers. I hesitated, then added other points. Joel’s car and keys, which I had borrowed, needed to be returned, if they weren’t already. Rose needed assistance. I needed allies. > > The council meeting was this afternoon. Three hours before sunset and three hours after, I would be free from interference. I needed a way to get some control over this situation. Enemies at the gates, I’d phrased it.

Man, its freaking today. Here I thought he still had more time. Yeah he cant be harmed, but this has been building up and itll probably be an opportunity for everyone to throw around their threats. Very smart to think of buying the mundane stuff in the meantime. Makes me think, how does a practitioner meeting in the market generally goes?

> I tried to write down everything I could possibly need or need to do. Stumped, stalled, I put the pen down and stood from the couch, stretching my back where I’d been hunched over the coffee table. > > The mirror beside me was empty. My reflection was absent, as was Rose’s. I saw only a living room where the books weren’t quite so scattered, where the shelves were full and no cardboard boxes sat beneath. There wasn’t a pile of dishes in the corner where I’d left them on my side of things. Oatmeal, again. If I didn’t manage a good shopping run, I’d be moving on to wild rice and cans of black beans.

Quick question. Do americans and canadians get black beans that arent canned? Like the ones you actually boil and make the beans yourself? I never hear of it. Me and over half the brazillian population eat rice and beans that way everyday in every major meal, but I have yet to see in any american or english media any of you ever actually boiling bean seeds and preparing them to, you know, actually add flavor and stuff with your own condiments and spices.

> The house felt a little more claustrophobic than it had, before. As large as the house was, it was old fashioned with a very closed concept, every room separated from other rooms by walls and doors. Were it the furniture and furniture alone, I wouldn’t have a problem. But Molly had made a long series of messes in packing up grandmother’s things, leaving the job half done, and her things were still here, untouched. Navigating between furniture and over the boxes and piles of books made me constantly aware of the space around me.

I can definitely see how that doesnt exactly make you paranoid, but rather self conscious about how paranoid you must look.

> When I had some time, I could do some tidying up. For the time being, though, I had too much to do. I settled for a breather. > > I stood in the window, my back against the windowframe, helping to hold the curtains and sheers out of the way. > > With my newly acquired second sight, I could make out the spirits that infused everything. Just as I might focus my eyes, I could focus this sight. I could train it. According to Essentials, some practitioners would train their sight to focus on things better suited to their talents. Imagery would take hold. > > Spirits were the most basic and oldest option when it came to manipulating the physical world through the esoteric. One object as simple as a pencil could have a host of spirits inside it, representations of the purposes the object had, its nature, its elemental makeup, ownership, and many, many other qualities. > > Shamans, then, were practitioners who worked more or less exclusively with spirits. They would be able to find and interact with more powerful spirits. Not simply the spirit of one particular stone, but the spirit of all stones for an area. > > I was thinking along those lines because I couldn’t help but wonder if what I saw was one of those shamans at work.

So shamans are more of controllers of the elements in a way. But also of their surroundings as in the objects around them.

> A boiling cloud of what might have been vapor, a haze, sat over the city. It was as though stormclouds were rolling in, and they were doing it at ground level. At times there was a fluidity to it, as though the nearby lake had swelled and swamped the area, waves rising and falling, only periodically allowing buildings to be seen, where they dipped low enough. > > This wasn’t water or water vapor. It was spirits. > > I shut off the sight. > > The scene I saw without magical aid was an ordinary one, a simple snowfall, with clouds in the proper places. My view of the buildings was still limited, periodically obscured, but only by snow. > > There were things outside, as there had been last night. Daylight wasn’t safety. It only meant that the Others without human forms had to stay out of the public eye. > > I sighed. I wasn’t big on plans. I wasn’t the type to use lists or keep to them. It helped to frame what I was doing in my head, but it wasn’t me. > > Better if I figured out the high points I needed to hit and then winged it. I’d figure out what I needed to shop for when the time came. > > I sat down with what I saw as the little black book. I filled myself in on the local practitioners. > > When I got to the Others, however, I found the entries got a little more complicated and short form. Latin classifications, short form that necessitated I look it up, measures and linking to reference material instead of explaining them outright. > > Grandmother, it seemed, was more interested in Others than people.

After the diary we now know how she hated having to read to whole books to get to the point, how it was hard to look for information for her at a younger age, so sit makes sense that she would just hyperlink everything, make it as simple and to the point as possible, organize things alphabetically and just... easy to get into all of this, or at least as easy as it gets with no one to teach you.

> “Rose!” I called out. > > There was no reply. > > I made my way through the house, searching each of the mirrors. I found her in the library. > > “Rose,” I said. > > She sat on the floor. Her hair had pulled free of the brooch, and she was surrounded by books. Damn, she looked worn out. Not tired, per se, but like she’d been through the wringer. > > “What do you want, Blake?” > > “First of all, I want to make sure you’re okay.” > > “Let’s say I’m not,” she said. She carefully set books aside and climbed to her feet. She didn’t seem willing to meet my eyes, biting her lip, thoughts clearly elsewhere. > > “What can I do?” > > It wasn’t a hard question, but it seemed to bother her. “Survive the meeting? We survive, there’s always room for things to get better.” > > “I’m on board with that,” I said. > > Why did it look like I was upsetting her more? > > “Listen,” I said. “I’ve done the reading. The sections on the Others in the little black book are kind of dense, but I got the gist of it, and I think I can put names to most of the important faces. I know the practitioners I’m up against.” > > “That’s good,” she said. “I read through all of that too.” > > “I’ve also memorized a few of the basic sigils. Driving people away, like Laird Behaim did in the coffee shop, moving things like I did with the mug, and protecting objects. I’ve got salt and chalk if I need it.” > > “I wouldn’t rely on that, if I was in your shoes,” she said. > > I frowned, “Why?” > > “The books say that generally, spirits aren’t that smart. They’re more like small animals, in terms of their capacity to understand things. Like animals, you can train or bait them. In an area trafficked by people who use spirits a great deal, you can trust they’re going to listen.” > > “This is that type of area.” > > “But who are they listening to? Remember how Laird said the spirits of community listen to him because of his role? Out there, they aren’t just listening to you. Their loyalties are divided.”

Ironic that I kept wishing for Rose to get attention and get better and she just kinda... broke after the ritual. She is looking and acting like she is quite done.

> “I think I follow,” I said. “What’s the end result? What happens if they aren’t all in the same camp?” > > “I think it’ll be slower, or fuzzier. You might get nothing, or it might backfire.” > > That took some of the wind out of my sails. “I’m still powerless?” > > “Powerless until you get enough clout to bully them or convince them to play along. It might be that grandmother’s name gives you some of the oomph you need. But if you reach for their help in a bind,” Rose said, “It’s going to be-” > > “-a crapshoot,” I said, in the same instant Rose did. > > I smiled a bit, but Rose didn’t. Her eyes dropped to the ground. > > I sighed. I could hardly blame her for not being in a smiling mood. Rose had her own concerns. Ones I couldn’t even wrap my head around. We didn’t have enough information on what she was or why grandmother had gone to the trouble of creating her. > > Problem was, I didn’t know how to fix this. When in doubt, the strategy was to empathize. As a rule, people wanted their feelings recognized more than they wanted fixes. > > “I can’t imagine how you feel,” I said. It was the truth. “You’ve been put in a horrible situation, with-” > > “Don’t do that,” she said. “Not if you’re using it like they taught it to you.” > > “Huh?” > > “Dad taught us that. How to get on people’s good side. Which may be something he picked up from grandmother.” > > “Grandfather,” I said. “It fits what we know of him.” > > “Don’t manipulate me, Blake. Don’t use strategies to deal with me. I was raised the same way you were, up to a point, I know the tricks.” > > “I do care, Rose. I want to help you. If I’m drawing from what I know to try-” > > “Blake,” Rose said. “It’s fine. It’s done, you’re in charge, I’m the backup. You want me to keep the criticisms to the most vital points? Fine. You want me to do the research and supplement what you’re doing, fine. You win.”

Nooo Rose dont you do the you win thing. Its more frustrating than anything.

t. abusive relationships involving me or people around me. The “you win” phrase still strikes some chords inside me when it comes up in a conversation or discussion or anything really.

> “I don’t want to win. I want us to be on the same page.” > > “The same page? You got the power, I got… this. How do you have a partnership if things are this unequal? Let’s face it. Look at what happened to Molly. Grandmother is willing to use us as expendable assets. I’m nothing more than a piece in a greater puzzle. I’ll serve my role, and the road ends there. I’m the most expendable one of us.” > > “I don’t think she made you as some expendable asset,” I said. > > “I’ve been reading. Everything referencing diabolists says they’re dangerous lunatics, except for the stuff that was written by grandmother and other diabolists. The temptation to offer pieces of yourself for obvious gains sucks all of them in eventually. The guys who unleash some of the worst stuff out there? The guys who meet the worst ends? They’re in the same category as her. Our grandmother. Over and over, they become monsters. Literally, or generally monstrous people that might use their kids or grandkids as sacrificial pawns to get what they need.”

I dont exactly see what Grandmother would have to gain from creating an entirely new person as Rose. Only if the plan was to in some way reincarnate in the mirror body. It would make sense with what we know of Grandma, but we dont exactly know of magics and spells to dismiss this point as impossible.

> “I don’t deny that they’re fucked up. But grandmother lived. She hit the ripe old age of eighty-five, and I doubt you do that while messing with stuff like this if you’re dumb. Besides, dumb people aren’t the type to spend the kind of power it takes to make a sapient being, only to throw it away like you’re talking about.” > > That actually seemed to help. Not that she looked happy, but maybe the way didn’t look so dark. > > “There isn’t a book we can read to figure out why I was created,” Rose said. Her eyes were still downcast. “I looked at the earliest diary entries, and the most recent.”

Ah, so maybe the pages we read were some that Rose perused.

> “Anything useful in the most recent?” I asked. > > She shook her head. “No. Nothing. The early ones… I sort of skipped past the earliest diaries, because a child’s writing is hard to read in big doses. Some stuff on the relationships between the different groups here. But if you’re looking for tips on where to focus our studies, we may have to look a bit further.” > > “Relationships,” I said. > > “It wasn’t all friendly or peaceful, though it sounds like there was more of an equilibrium a while back.” > > “Like Laird said,” I thought aloud, “It’s starting to change. If the house sells, Jacob’s Bell grows past a threshold. It’s thrown things a bit out of balance.” > > “You’ve got the two big circles joining in marriage, maybe rebuilding that balance.” > > “Status quo for the Duchamp family, it sounds like,” I said. Which was a reminder of the matter at hand. “Listen, The council meeting starts in three and a half hours. I wanted to check you were up for it.” > > “I’m up for it,” she said. She met my eyes, but that only made it clearer how worn out she was. > > “Be careful,” I said. “If you lie-” > > “I know,” she said. Nervously, she started fiddling with her hair, trying to get it sorted out. “I might lose my powers, or be forsworn. And I don’t want to lose any protections I might have, if things like Padraic can reach in here to get me. Not that I have much else to lose.” > > I nodded. > > “Don’t worry about me if you’re not going to worry about yourself,” Rose said. “You look as tired as I feel, and since you’re the one making the big decisions, like when to go out and-” > > “Woah,” I said. “Woah, woah. You’re talking about this?” > > “About going out with Laird.” > > “I thought we weren’t fighting.” > > I could see her expression change. Barely restrained frustration, slowly but surely being covered up, hidden behind a mask. “We’re not. Nevermind. I got carried away. I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit, and then we’ll go?” > > A big part of me wanted to argue. To press the issue. To air grievances and get things on a more even keel. To convince her that I didn’t want her as a slave or a servant.

But if you press the issue you will be yet agains forcing her to do something, in this case, discuss the issue.

> Except we had more pressing matters. Better to find a way to show it to her rather than tell her. > > “Sure,” I said. > > ■ > > The spirits parted. I knew when it was time, because of the way the surroundings changed. A moment of rest, where the snow wasn’t so hard, the spirits were settled, and an entire area was almost clear, in magical terms. In regular terms, the snowstorm let up a touch. It was dark, but that was more to do with cloud cover than time of day. > > I was on the move the moment the coast was clear, but I didn’t go to the meeting. > > I headed for the downtown area, backpack empty, pockets full. Everything I could think I might need on hand. > > Fireplaces and stoves. No. Dollar store? No. An old-school ice-cream shop complete with the benches and the tall glasses for fondues and ice cream floats. > > I settled on a general mens store. > > Knives were on sale, but I didn’t like the idea of using them. Too short a reach, against the sorts of things I would be fighting. > > I did like the look of the ice picks and hatchets. Prices on the picks hit the hundreds, while I could manage a hatchet for as little as forty. > > Wooden baseball bat, a touch less expensive. > > I added the weight of a loop of chain to the cart as well. > > Then I stepped into the corner of the shop where they handled bicycle stuff. > > Cheap side-mirrors were about four dollars for a pair, round mirrors about six inches across. I checked that I could see Rose inside and grabbed twenty. > > I think she might have actually smiled, when I glimpsed her. > > I did another circuit of the store. There were rifles and guns, but those started at a hundred and fifty dollars, and I had little doubt they’d stop working in a pinch. Many Others would be immune or too hard to kill with a regular gun. In terms of cost benefit, I’d rather have more mirrors. > > If I couldn’t get a gun at this point, the bow and arrow set stood out as a tempting alternative. It helped that there were Others who were vulnerable to wood and not metal. There were problems in terms of cost, though. At ninety dollars minimum, it was just outside of the range I was willing to pay. > > And, when I thought about it, it would be hell to practice if my movements were limited to the interior of Hillsglade House. It would take too long to learn. > > I had basic weapons for self defense, plus a few tools, which would have to tide me over until I got further in my studies over the magic stuff. > > When I approached the counter to pay, I got stares. It made me wonder if the process of awakening had changed anything about me. Or if they were enemies.

I dont doubt Blake's enemies would be slightly amused about him making an attempt to protect himself.

> I made my way to the next store. A general catch-all bargain shop, a little better than the dollar store I had passed. Expanding beyond the one pair of jeans would go a long way for my sanity. So would having decent soap and shampoo. Even different laundry detergent would help. I grabbed all of the toiletries, a few spare t-shirts, a sweatshirt and added a thirty dollar pair of jeans, just so I had something besides underwear to wear in a pinch. > > It made me feel better, knowing I had the stuff, feeling the weight of it in the shopping basket. It left me roughly twenty bucks to get food, but I could stretch a little money a long way on that front. I was happier having permanent things, new things. Even if they were cheap shirts for 75% off. If I had more money in general, I would be a shopaholic or a hoarder.

Makes sense, him having a homeless background and all that

> When I headed to the front of the store, a young boy got in my way. Just past the brink of entering adolescence, pale and brown haired. > > My first thought was Other. The memories of the things that had attacked the fake delivery man were fresh in my mind. It wasn’t. Very much human. > > “You’re Blake, aren’t you?” > > I nodded. > > “Do you recognize me?” > > I nodded again. Molly’s younger brother.

Oh-oh? What are you doing in town?

> When he didn’t say anything, giving me a death glare, I said, “Christoff. Hey, listen. I’m sorry about your sister.” > > “Why are you sorry?” he asked. “Did you do it?” > > God damn, the way he could say it as if I had… with a hardness in his voice? That had to have been something that the family had imbued in him over the years of fighting. Something he would have picked up. It was the kind of accusation that had enough weight to it that even an innocent target could be put off balance and made to consider the question. > > “No, Christoff. The police already cleared me.” > > “That doesn’t mean anything. Did you kill my sister?” > > “No,” I said. Not unless murder by omission is possible. “I didn’t.” > > I could see Callan approaching, giving me a bit of a wary look. His mother wasn’t far behind.

Shut up Callan.

> Callan was almost thirty. His mother was forty and looked ten years older, by the condition of her skin and hair, her arms full with a bundle of shirts with superheroes on them. I couldn’t help but see Aunt Irene as the type of person who had faced hardships every day and had emerged just a fraction weaker from each crisis. Worrying about money and work and all of that tended to eat you up inside. I knew, even if I had lived it for only a short time, what that was like. > > All that said, it didn’t mean I was a fan of her as a person. > > Callan frowned as stopped behind Christoff, putting his hands on his little brother’s shoulders. > > “I was just saying to Christoff,” I said, “I’m sorry about Molly. You have my condolences.” > > “But you still didn’t waste any time in taking the house,” Callan said. His glare matched those of Christoff and my aunt. > > “Ah, someone told you?” > > “It’s in the papers,” he said. “Every day, talking about Molly, talking about you. Who’s the new heir, that sort of thing.” > > “I didn’t have much of a choice in any of it,” I said. “I don’t want the house or the baggage that comes with it. At this point, I’d be pretty happy give up all the money and walk away from all of this… without anyone getting hurt.” > > “But you’re living there,” Callan said. “So you must want some part of it.” > > “It’s complicated,” I said. > > “Your parents said you were homeless. I bet you fucked up, and this is the only place you have to live. Squatting in my sister’s house before her body’s even cold.”

Oh SHUT the fuck up Callan.

> I expected his mother to rebuke him, to respond to the callous comment about Molly. > > She was cold before she died, I thought. > > What I said was, “She was one of the very few family members I ever liked, honestly. She was a friend to me. I meant it when I said I’m sorry.” > > “She wasn’t your friend,” Aunt Irene said, and her voice had that accusatory hardness that Christoff had picked up. Her eyes narrowed, an expression to match her tone, “Every other second I look at you, I wonder how you’re responsible.” > > How, not if. > > “You keep saying you’re sorry, and I believe it a little less each time,” Callan said. “Tell you what. Go. Don’t ever fucking talk about my sister again, just go, and we won’t have a problem.” > > I didn’t say anything, out of concern it would be taken as binding. Instead, I circled around to walk past him. > > He took a step to the side, getting in my way. “I didn’t say pay and leave. I said leave.” > > “You said go,” I said. “I’m going.” > > “Not this way,” he said. “Not with this shit you need to keep squatting in my sister’s house.” > > Heads were turning. We had the attention of every shopper and employee in the store, now. > > I thought of Rose’s recent surrender. I didn’t agree with it. It wasn’t what I wanted… but I didn’t want an issue here, either. > > “Fine,” I said. “Let me give the basket to the cashier-” > > “Don’t be an asshole,” Callan said. “Go put it all back on the shelves and racks.” > > I dropped the basket. “No. But I’ll leave, without buying, without incident. You win, Callan.” > > He smirked, but when I turned to go around him, he reached out and put his hand on my shoulder, maybe to slow me down so he could get in my way again. > > I shoved him, hard enough he stumbled three steps back. > > Before anything further could happen, I headed for the doors. More for his sake than mine. I wasn’t forgetting the consequences of missing the council meeting, as I thought that. I was- > > The sound of running footsteps made me stop. The expressions of the cashiers to my right clued me in. > > I reacted, half-turning, bringing my arm up. The arm wasn’t in position to deflect the worst of the hit, but I was more or less ready as Callan did his damndest to sucker-punch me. It hurt, but it was only pain. No disorientation, no loss of consciousness. > > My retaliation was automatic. I hit him, fist to face. He reeled, bending over to the point that I thought he was going to do a somersault. But I was already swinging the follow-up strike, waist-level. > > He hit the ground, rolled onto his back, and he didn’t get up. His mouth was open, lip split, and he stared, blinking hard, looking in a different direction each time he opened his eyes. > > Fuck, my hands hurt like a bitch. > > Employees came running, as well as one or two male customers. I backed away, hands raised. > > But when they reached us, two employees dropped to their knees beside Callan, and the rest of the intervening bystanders put themselves between us, forming a protective half-circle around Callan. Six of them, and another fourteen or so bystanders. > > “He hit me first,” I said. > > “You shoved him,” a man said. He looked fifty or so, but had a walker, oddly out of tune with his age. > > “That’s not how it happened and you know it,” I said. > > The man said, “I know you’re that guy in the Hillsglade place right now. You selling it anytime soon?” > > “No, the contract-” > > “Then I think I know what we’re telling the police,” he said. He looked around, and slowly, each other member of the small crowd started nodding in agreement.

I do not have words to how angry this is making me. And it is reflecting in the liveblog.

> Too coincidental. Too much fuckery, for this to happen now. I switched to my other way of seeing. > > Nothing stood out, no strange glows or images that weren’t supposed to be here. No Others were in the area. > > When I turned to more basic elements, I could see how active the spirits were. Nothing too unusual, though this was my first opportunity seeing how the spirits traveled back and forth between people, maintaining relationships. If I unfocused a bit, they almost looked like ribbons or cords, connecting people throughout the area. > > Three of the ribbons stood out from the rest. Too straight, too narrow. They were like spears that had penetrated Callan, Aunt Irene and Christoff and plunged into me. > > Forced connections between us. Too direct to be natural. Someone had aimed them at me. > > Fuckery. > > There were rules, though. No interfering with or attacking anyone else in the time leading up to, during, or after the meeting. > > Had this been done beforehand? Had things been set up so that they’d get in my way at the first available opportunity? > > Or had someone found a loophole? > > I wasn’t sure I had a chance to debate it. A cashier was dialing on the phone, her eyes on me. > > In that moment, I saw Laird enter the store, not in uniform, but wearing a long coat, cheeks red from the cold. He surveyed the situation. > > “Mr. Thorburn,” he said. > > “Officer,” I said. “Pretty prompt response to a call that hasn’t been made yet.” > > “Are you getting smart with me?” he asked. > > I shook my head. “Only stating the truth.” > > He gave me an appraising look. “Yes. I imagine you are. Katie, you can put the phone down. He’s right, there isn’t a point.” > > “He had a few harsh words for the fellow there,” the guy with the walker said, “Then shoved him, they exchanged blows.” > > “That so?” Laird asked. He surveyed the room very slowly. His eyes settled on Katie. “I’m asking. Is it, Katie?” > > She looked at the crowd. > > “Katie?” > > “No, sir.” > > “No. I didn’t think so. I’ll tell you what. You guys go on about your business, and I’ll see that Mr. Thorburn gets to his destination. Deal?” > > “Yes sir,” a few nearby people mumbled. > > “Mr. Thorburn?” he asked, giving me a sharp look. > > “Sounds good,” I said. > > “I don’t think I heard that clearly enough,” he said. His stare was a level one. > > Right. He wanted to play this game. > > I wouldn’t be buying clothes, toiletries or groceries, it seemed.

Wait, weren't the things from different stores? Nice touch on the possibility of loopholes already in the safety guaranteed thing, but then that is fishy as fuck. How can you meddle with someone in such a way and it not count as... ah well, w/e. I’m not going to lie and pretend I remember the exact wording that goes for the Meeting Truce.

> “I’ll go with you,” I said. > > “Good,” he responded, smiling. > > We went on our way. I hadn’t turned off my second sight, and I saw how the spirits were shifting. People were milling around the area, which was more like an extended strip mall than a true downtown, but the spirits diverted them from taking one side street. > > We turned down that street, and were soon joined by Andy and Eva. The witch hunters. > > “I assume they aren’t bound by any neutrality rules,” I said. > > “No,” Laird said. “But if they wanted to kill you, they could enter your home and murder you in their sleep.” > > The girl smiled, giving me a look. Confident, brash, if I remembered right from the vision. Her brother kept his eyes straight forward, watching the ground for slick patches and lumps of snow he might stumble on. He was burdened down with bags of stuff, while she strutted. > > I’d read up on the locals. What had the little black book said? They were witch hunters in service to Jacob’s Bell. Killing or punishing any Other or practitioner who strayed too far from the rules and made life inconvenient. Half of their payment came in the form of hard cash. Half was in either trinkets they could use on their job or knowledge. > > We approached a church. The area was desolate. > > I saw the woman with a blur for a face pause outside, waiting for a man to hold the door open. She was the one who’d molded the other who’d pretended to be a delivery driver. I saw her deliberately put the little ever-lit cigarette out before entering. > > A church wasn’t my first guess for a meeting place. > > Inside, Laird walked me to the front, where his family sat in the front row of pews. He paused, bending down to talk to his wife, and I walked on, my eyes taking it in. > > All eyes were on me, in turn. It made for a kind of pressure. Like all of the bad parts of public speaking without the ability to say something and give off a better impression.

Finally time for the meeting with everyone. Finding out our enemies, the who's who of the town.

> Behaim Circle, chronomancers. Demesnes situated in scattered residences across the city. I was familiar enough with them. > > Sitting in the aisles opposite the Behaims was the Duchamp Coven. According to the little black book, their line was purely female, and their craft was taught to women only. Easy enough, when any Duchamp woman would give birth girls only. A large family with strong ties to many of the surrounding areas, the family had earned a measure of prestige and power by marrying off their daughters and cousins to others in Ontario, Quebec, and the Northeastern States. Enchantresses. > > What were enchantresses? Essentials had filled me in on the basics. They would be focused on altering relationships. Influencing people, influencing things. An object could have its owner reassigned, so it might find its way into someone else’s hands, or be tethered to a location, so it would continually end up there. On the higher end of things, people could be altered, with an enchantress literally stealing someone’s love. On the veryhigh end of things, familiars could be claimed by an enchantress that didn’t already have one, among other general bends and twists in more fundamental rules. > > In short, they were the most likely culprits for sending Aunt Irene’s family my way.

Or maybe sending a group of girls, their own daughters mayhaps, to beat up Rose when she was small, even before they were turned practitioners.

> A middle-aged aboriginal woman sat alone, and nobody sat near her. Mara Angnakak. She straddled the line between practitioner and Other. When Jacob’s Bell was first settled by colonists, she was already here. The notes had marked that she was very reserved, but she harbored a horrendous amount of hatred for the rest of us. Grandmother had written out suspicions that she was illiterate; arguing it would explain why her talents seem to be limited to what she could teach herself. Centuries of such teaching and experimentation, but limited nonetheless. > > Being a practitioner inevitably meant losing a bit of your humanity and becoming a bit more Other. My new eyesight was a part of that, one step along what could be a long journey. Mara Angnakak had nearly finished that journey before stopping. Or she had to have, if she was that old. > > She was here before Europeans came to Canada and chances were good that she intended to be here well after we were gone.

Protecting her land in a way probably. Taking care of old beings that dont even hold an identity any more. I'd put money on her having access to things like Barba-whatsis, as in, unknown beings that have lost meaning to most.

> A girl slouched in a seat. Her familiar wasn’t in its mortal form, but was ethereal, with all of the mass of a grizzly on the front end, and a tail end that looked like that of a fish, the features an incoherent blend of different animals and plants, different features being emphasized as I looked longer. Her stick tapped the floor with no rhythm at all. She’d seated herself nearer the Others at the back than the two big families. I recognized her as the one who’d been shouting at the rabbit. > > She would be the Briar Girl. No other name. A recent addition to the local population, as of six years ago. She apparently lived full-time in the woods and marshes behind Hillsglade House. Grandmother’s suspicion? She had contracted with a familiar too powerful for her to handle, creating something that was less a partnership than a practitioner dominated by the spirit. The bear-thing would be the familiar, the stick her implement.

I'm going to bet it is something like that, but missing some keypoint. Like maybe she took the spirit as a familiar willing to be controlled. A stick for implement, so maybe guidance, strenght in many? Balance, equilibrium, reach, stability. Safety? Halted Growth? I really think something mutual is going on with them both.

> Johannes, the sorcerer from the north end, was already sitting, but he’d chosen to sit among the Others, near the back, rather than anywhere near the two families. His dog sat beside him, a breed that could easily look silly, given the chance, but it managed to look noble. > > It helped that the lights behind the dog seemed somehow brighter, the rest of the room darker by contrast. > > Others continued to appear, and it seemed as though they had been arriving for a while. They avoided the pews and stood around the edges. Where they clustered, their bodies blocked the wall-mounted lights behind them, and the room darkened. > > I found an empty row and sat. I put the backpack down on the pew beside me and fished out a pair of bike mirrors. I adjusted the zipper, and zipped up around the prong where the mirror was supposed to fit into the bike handle. It stuck up, facing forward. > > Easily an hour passed before the influx of Others started to taper off. My mouth was dry, my heart pounding, my face hurt where I’d been hit, and my hands hurt more. > > Above all else, I was realizing what I was up against. These weren’t pages in the little black book. They were enemies of mine. Virtually all of them. > > A lot of them would kill me. > > A good few would probably do worse things than kill me.

Like press their hands against your skin and tie pieces of you together in a nice little bow.

> This wasn’t quite what I had expected. I’d expected a few practitioners. Not everyone. > > “Blake,” Rose whispered. > > “What?” I asked, leaning closer. > > “Don’t tell anyone that I did the ritual,” she said. > > I nodded. > > Keep cards up our sleeves. That was how we needed to think.

I still dont understand if her doing the ritual put them in a disadvantage or no. We'll have to wait and see.

> But we couldn’t be wilting flowers, bowing over if someone so much as looked at us the wrong way. I could do that for Callan, but not here. > > A woman from the Duchamp family was talking to Laird, off to the side. She might have been the one who was talking in the vision I’d had. Not the oldest Duchamp woman here, but she had a kind of presence. They both cast glances my way as they talked, making me the obvious topic of conversation. > > I went out of my way to look like I wasn’t terrified. > > All of these people were my enemies. > > “Beautiful Rose,” Padraic purred. “Both of them, here. A good night, I’m sure.” > > He’d entered alongside his two regular companions, two other companions of similar attractiveness, and Maggie Holt, the girl with the checkered scarf. She was a teenager, making her slightly younger than the Briar Girl, and her eyebrows made her look perpetually angry, helped by a swift, graceless manner of walking. > > She sat to my right, across the aisle. Padraic and his group sat around her, instantly and automatically settling into comfortable seating positions that could have doubled for poses. > > “Padraic, as usual, is the last to enter,” Laird said. “We can begin a little early tonight. Please, Mr. Thorburn. You’re at the center of attention. Would you please step up to the front and introduce yourself?” > > Every set of eyes in the room > > “Say no,” Rose said. > > “I said I’d run impulsive plans by you, right?” I asked. > > “Blake?” > > “Mr. Thorburn?” Laird asked, his voice ringing down the length of the church. > > “If I had a way to divert our enemies from us and to each other?” I asked. “Yes or no?” > > “Blake, you can’t expect me to-”

What the fuck is the plan. I'm expecting it to be in the cliffhanger.

> “Blake Thorburn, grandson of Mrs. Rose D. Thorburn, Diabolist of Hillsglade House,” Laird said. “I would like a response.” > > Making someone repeat themselves, in some cases, would make them look weaker. Laird was getting more intimidating each time he spoke. > > “Yes,” she said. > > I stood. > > There was no murmur of conversation as I walked down the aisle. There were hundredshere, but most were Others, and they were all exceptionally good at being quiet. Goblins, disgusting to look at, as though they were distilled versions of human ugliness, squat and all of them armed with weapons forged together from scrap. Ghosts, etheral and exaggerated in appearance, forever marked with their causes of death, twisted by an imperfect recollection of what they looked like and who they were, before. Faerie, in myriad shapes and forms, and spirits. The other half of the Others were impossible to identify. > > Funny, how many others with the appearances of children were around Johannes. > > Andy and Eva sat on the stairs to the right of the stage, facing down everyone. Like bailiffs or guards, a reminder to keep the peace. The other set of stairs was blocked by the crowd. I stood at the very end of the aisle, and gripped the railing. > > In the midst of the faces, of the twenty or so members of the Duchamp coven and thirty-ish members of Laird’s family, all of the Others, I had to search to find the tiny round mirror that Rose would be peering out of. > > “I’m Blake Thorburn,” I said. “I doubt you really care about that, or about who I am. I imagine Molly Walker did her own speech here. I can’t even guess how she handled it, or what she said. I’m an obstacle for you to remove, to get power. I know this. I know you might see me as one number on a countdown clock, with prosperity waiting when there’s nothing left. When there are no successors. But you need to know, that thing so many of you are terrified of? That I might learn enough to summon something problematic? It’s already summoned.” > > I could see Laird react to that. A shift in the crowd. Some of the kids went pale, in the Duchamp family. > > Johannes smiled. Mara the immortal, for her part, didn’t say or do anything. Most Others didn’t seem to care one way or another.

Johannes probably already knows what is up, and I somehow doubt he is expecting more power. He strikes me as someone who already has what he wants. But I also barely know anything about him.

> “Not my choice. I also didn’t choose the arrangements my grandmother put in place,” I said. > > I was thinking of Rose, but I didn’t need to elaborate on that. > > “Some of you have been baiting me, trying to get me to retaliate. I don’t know why, but I imagine there’s something at play. I’m not going to do what they want. I’m going to make you guys a deal. I’ll make three deals. If you approach me and offer a ceasefire, an agreement you won’t attack me or help anyone who might, if you make a good offer, I’ll take the demon off the table for you and yours.” > > I could see people exchanging glances. > > That was a maxim, right? A rule of war? > > Divide and conquer.

I didnt get the feeling Barbatholomeus was the sole reason peole were worried, but if that is enough to get people to get paranoid, then I'm happy. I'm binging a lot of chapters right now, so I'll dive right into the next one. With this in the ending, I'm heavily leaning towards someone bringing a major point against Blake. Let's a go.

2019 Addendum: Next liveblog on Friday!

#CodeZeta liveblogs #pact #PactArc2 #Pact2.1

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tiawritesgood · 6 years

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Jurassic: The New World, Chapter One

*** This story takes place one month after the events of Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom and contains spoilers ***

Chapter One

This is docket O-20183904 in the case of Owen Grady and Claire Dearing vs. International Genetics Incorporated for the custody of Maisie Lockwood.

Claire squeezed her fists under the table and forced herself not to run her sweaty palms over her sleek black skirt. The last time I dressed this nice, I was almost eaten by a dinosaur, she thought as she took a second to glance down at her outfit. Their court hearing required something a bit fancier than the casual pants and t-shirts she started wearing after Jurassic World went to hell.

“I’ll admit, this is an unusual case,” the judge said, bringing Claire out of her daydream. Owen stood tall beside her. She was glad to have him there. Her hand creeped to the right until it met his and held on tight. Claire was still getting used to the idea that she could hold his hand now that they’d decided to give coupledom a third try. Going through another traumatic incident together solidified their rocky relationship. “There is no precedent for the custody of a… well, of a clone. I suppose this is the world we live in now.”

Owen squeezed Claire’s hand beneath the table. After Lockwood’s death and the incident at his estate, all of his assets were seized. This included the information surrounding Maisie’s existence. As soon as it was out, there was no putting it back in the box. Owen and Claire new they’d have to fight to keep Maisie, they just didn’t think it would be against InGen.

“Your honor, InGen has proprietary ownership over the science used to create the clone sitting before you. It is imperative that they are given custody of the child,” the leach defending InGen told the judge. If Owen hadn’t been standing between her and the plaintiff, Claire would have jumped across the room to claw out his eyes. How dare he talk about Maisie like she’s some kind of science experiment? She’s a child!

“We would like to enter into evidence the sequence required to clone a human being which was developed by InGen thirty years ago.”

The judge accepted the pile of papers with disinterest. “This means nothing to me. I’m a judge, not a geneticist.”

The lawyer looked smug. “We have brought one of the world’s most respected geneticists along to explain the information in that folder. Dr. Henry Wu is actually responsible for much of the cloning done by InGen.”

Owen and Claire shared a look. The last thing they expected was for Dr. Wu to testify against them. He was supposed to be hiding out until the dust settled and humans got used to dinosaurs roaming the streets of the United States. A month had passed since the incident at the Lockwood Estate, but the US population had not yet learned how to cohabitate with the de-extinct creatures. Neither Owen nor Claire were sure they ever would.

Dr. Wu was sworn in and allowed to describe his scientific discoveries. He avoided eye contact with Owen, Claire, and Maisie seated quietly behind them. What was he so worried about? That if he allowed himself to look at the faces of the people he ruined, he might suddenly grow a conscience? Not likely.

After the testimony, the judge looked slightly less disinterested than before. “Your Honor, Maisie Lockwood is a clone of Mr. Lockwood’s late daughter. We are not here to dispute this fact. However, does that mean she should be subjected to scientific experimentation?”

“Objection!” the vile lawyer from the other side yelled out. “Conjecture. The defense has no way of knowing what InGen plans to do with Maisie.”

The judge all but rolled her eyes. “InGen just had a scientist explain to the court how Maisie was created. I think it’s safe to assume we all know what the company plans on doing with the young girl. Overruled.”

Claire stepped just a bit closer to Owen. Was it possible this was going their way? They’d had to scrape together their non-existent savings to afford a mediocre lawyer. Compared to InGen’s still thriving money pit, they were sure they’d lose before the proceedings began.

“Your Honor, Maisie deserves to be with people who love her, not with people who are going to treat her like an experiment. Further, the defense would like to enter into evidence documents pertaining to Maisie’s birth. Though Lockwood was an early part in creating InGen, he had already severed ties with the company when Maisie was born. Lockwood used his own facilities on his personal estate to bring Maisie into the world. InGen has no grounds for taking her from the people who have been caring for her for the last month.”

The judge took the documents and read them over. Claire felt tears pooling in her eyes. Their lawyer was careful not to talk about Maisie the way InGen’s lawyer did, like she was just another one of their experiments and not a living, breathing little girl. It was how Claire had treated the dinosaurs for her first few years at Jurassic World. Her behavior towards those beautiful creatures was what led her to found the Dinosaur Protection Group in the first place. It may have taken her a long time to figure it out, but she finally understood that dinosaurs were animals and they deserved rights, too. Just like Maisie.

“Does the defense have any witnesses they’d like to call?”

This was their moment. “Yes, Your Honor. We would like to call Iris to the stand.”

Iris stood slowly and made her way to the wooden box beside the judge. Once she was sworn in, she was allowed to testify.

“I raised Maisie,” she explained to the judge. “And I raised Mr. Lockwood’s daughter before that. I know what Maisie is like. She’s a rambunctious little girl who likes to wander and play practical jokes. She simply cannot be placed into a facility to be tested. She needs to be with a family who loves her. I believe Mr. Grady and Ms. Dearing are perfect to care for Maisie. They are familiar with her background and they treat her like the child she is. She will live an incredible life with this couple. I urge you to send her with them.”

Claire allowed the tears to fall readily. She hadn’t known what Iris might say about them, but her testimony was perfect. Claire remembered the first time she saw Maisie. She’d been lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce. Iris’s description was spot on.

“Thank you, Iris,” the judge said. Iris returned to her seat and waited primly for the judge to make her final decision. It was a family court, because for all intents and purposes it was a custody hearing. No jury would hear the testimonies. The judge would decide Maisie’s fate.

Owen wrapped his arm around Claire’s back and pulled her flush against his side. Whatever happened, they’d have each other. That was important for both of them to remember.

“As I said when we began this hearing, this is a unique case. We are setting the precedent with this decision, and I believe the decision is clear. Maisie Lockwood may be a clone, but she is also a child and she deserves a stable home with people who will care for her as a human, not an experiment. I rule in favor of Mr. Owen Grady and Ms. Claire Dearing. You now have sole custody of Maisie Lockwood. We release her to your care and will be following up to ensure she is properly looked after.”

The judge said more, but Owen and Claire couldn’t hear it. They were too busy hugging each other and Maisie. They were going to be a family. After everything they went through on the island and at the estate, it was about time they got some good news.

“I’ve never had a Mom or a Dad before,” Maisie said quietly. “I’m not sure I’ll be any good at being a daughter.”

Claire wiped a tear from the girl’s eye. “We’ve never had a daughter before,” she told Maisie. “We’ll be learning together.”

“As a family,” Owen added. He took in the two most important girls in his life and fought back tears of his own. He wasn’t sure how to be a father, but he knew he wanted to love and protect both Claire and Maisie for as long as he lived. Attachments are hard and they get complicated, but for the first time in his life, Owen wanted them. He had been attached to Claire for longer than he cared to admit, and with Maisie added to the mix he felt whole. He only hoped nothing would take that away from him.

Iris joined them as soon as their group hug finished. She put her hands on Maisie’s shoulders and smiled. “I’m getting older, girl. I would have taken you myself if I thought I could keep up with you.”

Maisie giggled. “You’ll come to visit, won’t you Iris? Owen is building a cabin in the woods where we’ll live. You can come and make sure I always take my bath!”

Iris smiled at the girl’s pronunciation of the word ‘bath.’ As hard as she tried, the Queen’s English never stuck. “Of course, I’ll visit. You can’t keep me away.”

Maisie surprised Iris with a bone-crunching hug. “I love you, Iris.”

“I love you, too, girl. Now, you’d best be getting on to your new home. First, I have something to discuss with your parents. Would you give us a moment?”

“Of course, Iris,” Maisie said. She took a seat in the audience, far enough away that she wouldn’t overhear the adult’s conversation.

“What is it, Iris?” Claire asked. Her stomach bubbled with nerves. Was she going to try and take Maisie from them?

The woman took a deep breath. “Mr. Lockwood was afraid something of this sort would happen upon his death. He was even more worried that the courts would rule against any money he left to Maisie, so he left part of his fortune to Mr. Mills and the rest to me. He was unsure what Mills might do with the money, but he knew I would spend mine on Maisie.”

“What are you saying?” Owen asked.

“I have inherited quite a bit of money. After the reparations, which were limited due to the general sleaziness of those injured or killed in the incident, it still adds up to a large sum. Because of Mr. Mills’s death, all of Lockwood’s money is now mine to do as I wish. I must keep some for myself, though I hate to do so. It will serve me through my retirement. The rest, though, is yours. I encourage you to spend some on a college fund for Maisie. She’s a brilliant girl. Besides that, it is up to you what you do with the money. Just promise me Maisie will have a good life.”

Claire held tightly to Owen who could no longer hold back his tears. They had no idea how they’d afford a child, but now they wouldn’t have to worry. “We love Maisie and we will be the best parents we know how to be,” Owen promised Iris.

“Thank you. I will have the lawyer transfer the money to you right away.”

“Thank you, Iris,” Claire blubbered. “You have no idea what this means to us.”

“I do, dear. I do. I hope you know what it means to me that Maisie has found a mother and a father who will care for her as if she were their own.”

“We do.”

The three hugged and Iris made her exit, stopping to chat with the lawyer first. He promised her that the funds would be available to Claire and Owen the next day. First on the agenda was to take Maisie shopping for new summer clothes. They bought her a few spring outfits, but hotter weather was coming and she would need tank tops and shorts. Claire’s sister already planned on bringing her son, Gray, to play with Maisie as often as possible. Though six years apart in age, both Karen and Claire hoped the two would become close friends. They have a lot in common, including their love for dinosaurs. Claire was glad Gray hadn’t stopped researching the animals even after the Jurassic World incident, and that Maisie hadn’t given up on dinosaurs after what happened at the estate.

Maisie joined her guardians as soon as Iris left. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Better than okay,” Owen explained. “Your grandfather made sure you’d be taken care of.”

The young girl’s face fell. “I miss him,” she admitted. “He was the only parent I ever knew, besides Iris of course.”

“We know, honey,” Claire said, patting Maisie’s hair. “Why don’t we head home, okay? It’s been a long day for all of us.

Maisie nodded. “Yes, lets. I can’t wait for the cabin to be finished so we have a real home.”

Claire laughed. “Me, neither. How about it, Owen? How much longer until our real home is finished?”

“Well, I should be able to hire a couple guys to get things moving faster. Hopefully in the next few months it’ll be ready to move in.”

“Perfect!” Maisie said. “And I get my own room?”

“Of course you do,” Owen said. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

They piled into Owen’s van and drove the thirty minutes to their secluded home in the woods. The cabin sat unfinished with a small trailer beside it for sleeping. The three of them had been sharing the trailer for a month since Owen and Claire were given immediate temporary custody of Maisie after the Lockwood Estate incident. It was only when they arrived at the trailer again after the hearing that it felt real. Though the home was temporary, the family was permanent.

It was after eight at night when they got home after a fast food dinner. A small group of Compsognathus, tiny dinosaurs that pack an unexpected punch, waited outside the trailer door. Owen kept a locked box of food behind the trailer for this purpose. He tossed a few freeze-dried lizards towards the dense forest to distract the little creatures. While they ate, Maisie patted one on the head.

“Maisie!” Owen called. “Don’t touch them.”

The young girl shrugged. “I would pet a squirrel if it let me. These dinosaurs are harmless.”

Owen and Claire remembered an incident on Sorna many years earlier when a little girl was injured by Compsognathus, but they didn’t want to scare Maisie. It was better that she wasn’t afraid of dinosaurs, even after what they went through on the estate. Now that the dinosaurs are free to roam North America, they knew they’d be seeing more and more of them.

“Come on, Maisie,” Claire said. “It’s time for bed.”

Owen opened the door to the trailer and the three climbed inside. After changing into her pajamas and brushing her teeth, Maisie settled into her bed, which doubled as the kitchen table when flipped open.

“Goodnight… Mom and Dad,” she said before closing her eyes.

Claire cried happy tears into Owen’s shoulder. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” she whispered.

Though relatively early, Claire and Owen were exhausted. It had taken a lot to prepare for what amounted to a couple of hours in court. The work was worth it now that Maisie was home for good.

“Goodnight,” Owen whispered in Claire’s ear when they climbed into the larger bed at the head of the trailer. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They drifted off to sleep quickly and deeply. For the first time in years, Claire didn’t have a single dinosaur fueled nightmare. When she awoke before the sun in desperate need for the bathroom, she felt genuinely relaxed.

Until she noticed the empty bed where Maisie had been asleep.

“Maisie?” Claire called out. She opened the trailer door and listened, but everything was quiet. “Maisie? Where are you?”

No one responded.

“Owen!” Claire screamed. She shook her sleeping boyfriend until he blinked away the grogginess from his eyes. “Owen, wake up.”

“I’m up, what’s going on? What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” Claire cried. “But Maisie’s missing.”

Owen sat up straight. “What did you say?”

“Maisie’s missing!” Claire yelled.

“What?” Owen jumped out of bed and flung open the trailer door. He yelled Maisie’s name just as Claire did, then flipped on the outside light. It had rained during the night leaving mud where dry grass and dirt had been.

Outside the front door, Owen noticed something strange. He jumped down to get a closer look and sure enough there were footprints in the mud approaching and leaving the trailer.

“I don’t think Maisie’s missing,” Owen said.

Claire joined him outside the trailer. “What do you mean? Then where is she?”

“I don’t know,” he told her. He met her eyes. “But I think she’s been kidnapped.”

#jurassic world #jurassic world fallen kingdom #spoilers #jurassic park #fanfiction #fanfic #owen grady #claire dearing #claire #owen #clowen #ff #maisie #lockwood #jurassic #dinosaurs #mystery #scifi #iris

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fuzzballsheltiepants · 7 years

Text

The Forging of the Wolf, Chapter 8

Mildly NSFW. Read Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7.

“Gods, you look like shit,” Raedan said as Aedion slipped into a chair in the tavern.

“Thanks, brother,” he said drily, as a server appeared with a plate laden with eggs, toast, sausage and mushrooms.

Litton looked up from his own plate and sniggered. “I don’t know, Raedan,” he said with a sly grin. “To me he just looks like he got rode hard and put up wet.”

Aedion pointed his fork at his fellow lieutenant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied innocently, though his mouth twitched into an involuntary smile.

“Come on, Ashryver, that girl was beautiful.” She had been. Beautiful and sweet and glorious under his hands.

Raedan was watching the two of them like a cat torn between two mice. “What girl?”

It hit Aedion then - how did Litton know what the girl looked like? “Right, what girl? I left alone.”

Litton nodded, his smile turning wicked. “So you did. But you see, here I was last night, talking to a lovely young woman, and what do you know? She kept asking me if I knew you, if I’d be able to introduce her to you. I told her I thought you’d be happy if she introduced herself, and gave her your room number. When she didn’t come back…”

Raedan punched him in the arm. “So that’s why you’re a bit late! Good for you! It’s about time.”

“No, I’m late because I’m the only one who ever feeds the damn horses.” The others laughed. “Which reminds me, it looks like rain. We better get moving if we want to get anywhere today.”

“And what do you mean it’s about time, Raedan?” Litton asked, forehead puckered. “Wasn’t he fucking your sister?”

Raedan rolled his eyes. “Of course not. Why does everybody always think that?” Aedion laughed, shaking his head at the pair of them.

It rained off and on all morning, getting steadily worse as they rode into the afternoon. When they finally reached a village with a small inn, they were soaking and miserable. They hustled the horses into the stable, and Raedan’s teeth were chattering audibly while they quickly stripped the tack off the horses and began rubbing them down. As they finished and Aedion threw the animals armloads of hay, he turned to find Litton rummaging in the saddle bags. He pulled out a small bottle and tossed it to Aedion, who caught it automatically. “What’s this?”

Litton shrugged. “I figured if you’re going to start enjoying yourself, you should probably be taking that. Unless you want to sire children all over Adarlan.”

Aedion’s jaw dropped, and he turned in the direction they had ridden from. “Shit! Oh, shit. I never even thought…What do I do? Should I go back?”

The other two laughed. “What do you mean?” Litton asked. “No doubt she’s taking something. Even if she wasn’t, if she started today it’ll be fine.” Aedion followed them into the inn, still fretting about the contraceptive tonic that now felt so heavy in his pocket. He didn’t want to leave that lovely woman as his mother had been left, alone to raise an unwanted child. He didn’t want to be like whoever his father was, unaware or uncaring that his son walked the earth at all. The second he was alone in the tiny room the innkeeper showed him, he gulped down a dose of the foul-tasting liquid.

The tavern directly below his room was packed with locals and travelers alike. He threaded his way through the crush of people until he saw the others. Litton had somehow found them not just a table, but four women with whom to share it. The women were all giggling at something Raedan had said, and both men had broad grins no doubt caused by the female hands on their thighs. Aedion hesitated just a second before joining them. He was welcomed enthusiastically by the women after Litton’s brief introduction, and soon found himself joining into the flow of the banter. At first it was easy to grin and joke, but after an hour he found it all grating. The women all seemed to gush too much over his accent, his eyes, the size of his hands. They touched him - touched all three of them - with too much of a proprietary air. Yet when they split up for the night, he didn’t object when the slim brown-eyed girl followed him; he didn’t hesitate to respond when she pulled him down into a kiss, didn’t even pause as their clothes hit the floor and they found themselves tangled together on the bed. Nor did he stop her when she gathered her clothing and slipped out of the room once their panting had slowed. No, he relished the freedom of having the bed to himself, and drifted off thinking Delaney’s sharp wit, Avis’ sweet smile, Maida’s bubbling laughter. Of the unknown woman’s gray eyes hooded with passion, her skin silky beneath his lips.

*****

When Delaney appeared at Clery’s house the next morning for her day’s assignment, she was shown into a small empty parlor to wait. She could hear raised voices, the words indistinct, from somewhere above her. There was a small crash, as if a door had been flung open and hit the wall, and then a thin, wiry gray-haired man, face hard and sharp as a blade, passed the parlor door.

“Weylan,” came Clery’s voice from the region of the stairs, “stop. Please. Surely you can see -”

“See what?” The other man’s voice was cold and dry as a winter wind. Delaney shivered, despite the warmth of the room. “See that you’re going to waste more resources, more lives, trying to rally a force that has scattered to the four winds? One that has no hope of overcoming Adarlan’s might?”

“You don’t know that.”

A quiet snort sounded. “Yes, Clery, I do. They killed the greatest king since Brannon himself, then his heir and the princess of the wildfire. They slaughtered my forces as if they were chattel. When we have no one left to rule, it is the lords’ responsibility to protect the people. Our people are dying, Clery; dying from the sanctions and the taxes that bastard King has levied on us. I will not send more to their death on a fool’s hope.”

Clery walked into sight of Delaney’s unintentional hiding spot then, his fists clenched, veins popping on his neck. “So you mean to just give up, then?”

“Give up? I mean to survive, and help our people do the same. You would do well to heed that right now, those are our choices. Survive, or die.” The door creaked open, then closed with a firm click. Clery stood silently in the hall, the only sounds the crackling of the parlor fire and his heavy breathing. Delaney must have shifted then, as suddenly he turned to her, a calm mask falling over his face.

“Give me a moment, Layne,” he said. “I’m running a bit late this morning.”

Delaney sat on the couch, idly perusing the titles of the books on the small adjacent table, as the minutes ticked by. When she heard footsteps nearly running down the steps, she leaped to her feet and met Clery in the doorway. He handed her three letters, their addresses so hastily written as to be barely legible. “Please deliver these, quick as you can. When you get back, I’ll have more.”

Glancing at the addresses and her map, she was pleased to see that she had been to all three before, and relieved that none required Horse, given that she had left him stuffing his face full of hay in the Three Pigs’ stables. Her years of practicing negotiating crowded spaces unnoticed proved helpful, and she slipped through the streets at a jog. In under ten minutes she was gasping for breath in the foyer of the first address, one of the large ornate homes that she found a bit intimidating. She had barely recovered enough to plan her path to the next place when the master of the house appeared himself and pressed his reply into her hand and she was off again. The next home was a similar experience, though the house was small and run down and she could hear the letter’s recipient cursing under his breath. Finally, she half-ran to the third. The lawyer’s office had a client, who the lawyer unceremoniously sent out with a promise of contact later in the day, upon receipt of the letter. The man then ensconced himself in a back room with his assistant. There was low muttering behind the door for several minutes, then an excited voice exclaimed, “Then Darrow can go to Hellas’ fiery realm!” There was a hushing sound, and the man continued more quietly but still intelligible. “That bastard lost his spine when Orlon died, and now he’s just bending over for the King. He won’t even try to raise the Bane? Then we’ll do it without him.”

Delaney’s ears had pricked up at Darrow’s name; she had barely heard anything after that. Was it possible that bitter man from this morning was the man she sought? She shuddered at the thought of delivering her message to him. Yet Aedion had bade her to find him, and she would do so if it took her last breath. The lawyer’s assistant burst out of the back room and jabbed the letter at her, and she tucked it in her cloak and ran.

Clery seemed surprised by her reappearance, and after checking that the seals were intact complimented her on her efficiency. He presented her with a stack of perhaps a dozen letters and two silver coins, promising a third if she returned before the evening meal. She did so with time to spare, even after pausing to gobble a meat pie from a stand she passed. On return to Clery’s house, she accepted her coin and then paused, debating whether or not to ask about the man from the morning. Clery noticed her hesitation.

“Do you need something, Layne?”

“No, sir,” she replied, “I just…I was wondering, sir, was that Lord Darrow this morning?”

She realized her mistake when he slowly met her eyes for the first time. “And what does a farm boy from Adarlan know about the lords of Terrasen?” he asked, too softly, ice in his voice.

“Nothing, sir, forgive me, sir,” she stammered, bowing. Turning to leave, she was halted by a hard hand on her arm and the smooth rasp of a knife being drawn. She froze.

“You know, boy,” Clery said in an oddly pleasant tone, “I’m a clever man. But even clever men can make mistakes.” He paused, seeming to be expecting a response, so she made an indistinct noise in her throat. “I can’t help but wonder, if I were the King of Adarlan, and I wanted to learn about rebel movements in a conquered realm, would I send in soldiers? Or would I send in a scrawny farm boy on a decrepit old horse, make him pretend to be looking for work? I think I’d do the latter, don’t you?”

Delaney wasn’t sure how to respond, so blurted out the truth. “Perhaps, but I doubt that he would send a young woman who may have a price on her head.”

Clery clearly had not expected that response. “Pardon me?” he said flatly.

She straightened up slowly and turned to meet his eye. “My name is Delaney,” she said in her normal voice. “Not Layne. I came to Orynth to deliver a message to Lord Darrow, one that I realized today may help your cause.”

“A message from whom.” There was no inflection in his tone.

“From a son of Terrasen.”

“A son of Terrasen. Living in Adarlan.” She nodded. ‘Who is this man? What was the message?”

Delaney shook her head. “I shall tell no one but Lord Darrow.”

Suddenly the knife was pressed against her throat. “I could kill you now,” he said in her ear.

“Then the message shall go unheard.” She couldn’t hide her trembling, but she would not betray Aedion, no matter if her life hung in the balance.

They stood like that for a long moment, before he slowly pulled the knife away. “I shall consider. Go back to the inn. If you try to leave the city, I shall know. Come here tomorrow and I will have my answer.”

Delaney fled.

*****

The week continued much as it had been. Every day they dealt with intermittent rain, never heavy enough to shorten their day’s travel but enough to try their tempers. Every night, women more or less queued up to share their beds. Aedion soon found himself growing bored. His cock had decided it quite liked being used for its real purpose, but his mind increasingly held the women in contempt even while his body reveled in their soft curves. He hated the way they stared at him as if he were some sort of novelty, a menagerie animal to gawk at and take pleasure in. He hated himself for being so eager to oblige them, but he found increasingly he couldn’t sleep unless he’d exhausted himself with one of them.

A day’s ride from Paget’s camp, the wind rose and with it what had been a light drizzle turned into torrents. When it shifted into sleet and the footing got slick, they stopped earlier than normal, having the good fortune of coming to a large market town. After settling in the horses and getting their rooms at one of the inns, Aedion set out to explore the town. Hood up over his head to protect himself from the frigid precipitation, he prowled the streets, soon ready to start snarling at the way people gave him a wide berth.

Finding a small bookseller, he entered, shaking back his hood and with it some of his temper. He perused the selection, finding a couple of interest. As he paid for his books and left the shop, he felt someone’s eyes on him, and glanced around. A man leaned against a brick wall across the street, watching him from under the hood of his fine green cloak. With a growl under his breath, Aedion tucked his purchase into his pocket and headed back to the inn.

The evening seemed destined to pass much as they all had. He was sitting with Raedan, waiting for Litton to appear with some ale, then for the hunt to begin. Whether he was the hunter or the hunted remained up for some debate in his mind. Suddenly Raedan paused in his chatter. “Do you know that man?”

Aedion looked in the direction Raedan indicated, to see the man from town, still watching him with cool interest, still leaning against a wall though a considerably warmer and drier one. His cloak was off, revealing black hair, eyes the color of fine brandy, and an aristocratic face. “No; why would I?”

Raedan shrugged. “Well we’re not that far from Terrasen, I wasn’t sure. Why do you think he’s staring at you?”

Looking back at the man, Aedion raised an eyebrow, receiving a slow smile in response. “Probably for the same reason as everyone else,” he replied, turning to his companion with a grin.

Raedan gave a snort and muttered under his breath something that sounded like, “Boy, get you laid a few times…” Litton returned then, and they soon had both their dinners and designated trysts for the evening. Aedion dragged his attention to the chirping woman now gripping his elbow, rewarding her inane conversation with a few smiles and laughs. He followed willingly enough as she guided him to her room, and his body got into the spirit of the evening as soon as his hands were touching bare flesh. But it was his gray-eyed beauty he pictured as he kissed and teased, and it was she who moaned beneath him as he moved deep within her.

A couple of hours later he was back at the bar for another glass of ale, trying to drown his unabated restlessness before heading to his own quarters. Someone took the stool next to him, and a warm, throaty voice asked, “So did you have a pleasant evening?” He turned to see the amber-eyed man from before signaling to the barmaid for a glass of some sort of clear liquor.

“Pleasant enough,” Aedion replied cautiously.

“And how was your choice of companion?” There was a touch of laughter in that beautiful voice.

Aedion’s lips twitched a bit. “She was…satisfactory.”

“Oh, dear.” The man laughed out loud at that. “Are you so experienced with women that you can manage to rate them?”

Now Aedion was grinning. “I’m getting there more rapidly than you might expect.”

“Well, I would imagine she would rate you a bit higher than satisfactory, if only because your companions have long returned to their own rooms.” He gestured behind him. “I’ve been sitting here bored out of my skull all evening, with nothing better to do than watch all you fools and take notice of comings…,” he cocked an eyebrow with a sly smile, “…and goings.” Finishing his drink, he tossed a coin on the counter and rose, stretching. He was nearly as tall as Aedion, though much narrower in his frame. He held out his hand. “Mikkal.”

“Aedion.” They shook, Aedion noting that the stranger’s calluses matched his own. A soldier then, most likely. Mikkal gave a courteous nod and left, and Aedion turned back to the bar. Draining his own glass, he too paid and then headed towards his room. When he reached the staircase, Mikkal was there waiting. Aedion’s breath caught, his heart ratcheting up, though he didn’t quite know why.

“You know,” Mikkal said, stepping in close, “I’ve been thinking. You shouldn’t have to end the evening with just satisfactory.” He stretched up and pressed his mouth to Aedion’s.

Though the man’s lips were soft, the kiss was anything but. No, there was command in this, and Aedion responded, a long-banked fire flaring through his veins. Reaching up, he cupped Mikkal’s jaw, marveling at the rough-soft feel of his stubble, such a contrast to the smooth tongue in his mouth. The other man’s fingers were tangling in his shaggy hair, and Aedion reveled in the hard muscle pressing against his body, nothing like the soft curves he had been exploring of late. His hands slipped down to grip the back of Mikkal’s arms, tugging him even closer. He didn’t know how long they stood there in the shadows, but eventually Mikkal pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss. Aedion didn’t let him go far, resting his forehead against the shorter man’s, eyes closed as he regained control over himself. After a minute - or an hour - Mikkal gently broke his grip and turned away.

“See you around, Lieutenant,” he said over his shoulder, and disappeared up the stairs. Aedion stood there for a long moment, head leaned back against the wall, before staggering up to his own room drunk not on ale but on the stranger.

*****

Delaney was at Clery’s while he was still sitting at breakfast the next morning. He laughed a little grimly when she was shown into his breakfast room. Setting down his fork and knife, he leaned back and surveyed her. She hadn’t bound her breasts that morning, though she still dressed as a boy; she wanted to give as much proof of her claim as possible.

“Well,” he said, eyes fixing on the swell of her chest, “looks like part of your claim is true at least. Why have you been dressing as a boy?”

She shrugged while she considered what was safe to tell him. “It was the suggestion of someone I met along the way. There may be people who are looking for me.” She hesitated, then added, “I had dyed my hair as well until I reached the city.”

“You’ll confess this to me, yet you won’t tell me who sent you, or why you are so determined to deliver your message only to Lord Darrow.” Her silence was response enough. “Well, Delaney,” and there was venom in the way he said her name, “I suppose I shall see if Darrow is willing to meet with you, and under what conditions. I will send for you once I have his answer.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said and left. On her return to the inn, she sought out the innkeeper and laid out a version of her story. The woman was sympathetic to her plight of needing to escape from a violent husband, and thought she was clever to disguise herself as a boy and make it all the way to Terrasen, where surely the evil husband would never think to look for her. She promptly gave Delaney a job in the laundry for as long as she would need it, allowing her to remain there for free in exchange. At least this way she could stay and if Clery decided not to help she could try to track down Lord Darrow herself. She sighed as she helped gather the sheets from the guest rooms and heat the water for washing. It always came back to laundry for her.

*****

They reached Paget’s camp mid-afternoon the next day. It was set up not too differently from Perrington’s, and they were met as soon as they reached the square by an officer who identified himself as Captain Gall. He showed them to the stables, where they handed off the horses to the stable hands. Aedion was reluctant to turn Avenar over, and did so only with a rub to her forehead and a promise to visit later and make sure she was comfortable. The stable boy gave him a bow and assured him he would take special care of her, and Aedion thanked him with a squeeze of the shoulder.

Following a quick tour of the main buildings, Gall showed them to their assigned quarters. Litton and Aedion would be sharing a small, neat house with two other officers, who were absent at the moment; Raedan as left in the barracks with the other recruits. The captain waited while they set down their possessions, then ordered them to follow him as he headed to the main house. They were shown into a large study with an enormous desk. A tall man with dark hair silvered at the temples looked up from his work and surveyed them.

“General Paget, sir, this is Lieutenant Litton and Lieutenant Ashryver, newly arrived from General Perrington.” They both bowed.

The man rose and stalked around the desk, his eyes fixed on Aedion. “Well, well, well, boy, I can’t believe it. When I saw your name on the lists I nearly shit myself.” He snorted. “And you’ve managed to get taller and scrawnier, which I didn’t think was possible.”

“Sir?”

“You don’t remember me, do you.” It wasn’t a question, so Aedion didn’t reply. “And here I would have thought that nearly breaking your jaw would’ve made more of an impression on you.”

A memory of a rainy dawn flashed in his mind, of a beloved man dropping with an arrow to the throat, of a fervent wish to follow him. He put on his wildest grin. “I think the force of the blow knocked the memory right out of me, sir.”

The general laughed, surprising both Aedion and Litton. “With that smart mouth I’m surprised nobody has slit your throat. You owe Lord Breiner your life, by the way. He’s the only reason you didn’t hang that day.”

“I shall give him my thanks should I see him again, sir. Though you may believe you owe him a debt of a different sort once you’re done dealing with me.”

Paget laughed again. “Well, son, you’re good for amusement if nothing else.” He leaned against the desk, arms folded in front of him. “You’re a few days early, which is appreciated. Your main trainers won’t be here until the end of the week. In the meantime, you will be expected to join in with the rest of the lieutenants for workouts and meals. If you have any questions, Major Gall will address them.”

“Thank you, sir,” they both murmured, then Aedion reached into his pocket and handed him the letter Major Farrers had given him with a bow. They were dismissed, and as soon as they were out of the building and away from Gall Litton elbowed him hard in the ribs.

“What the hell were you thinking back there?” he hissed. “You can’t talk to a general that way.”

Aedion cocked his head at his friend. “Evidently I can,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

“And why didn’t you tell me you knew the general?”

“I didn’t remember him. Honestly,” he protested when Litton glared at him in disbelief. “I met him once for just a moment when I had just been taken prisoner.”

“But he broke your jaw?”

“Not quite, though not for lack of trying.” Aedion rubbed the area thoughtfully, remembering their brief interaction. “He knocked me off my feet though.”

Litton was shaking his head in disbelief. “And why did he punch you in the face? I mean, I can think of a dozen different reasons why anyone would want to, but what was it specifically.”

“I wouldn’t tell him my name.”

“You wouldn’t…Why the hell not?”

Aedion’s temper flared. “Look, I’d lost my entire family. I’d just watched my friends die trying to get me to safety. They’d dragged me behind a horse twenty miles in the rain, and I had no idea why they hadn’t just put an arrow through my throat too. I figured it was only a matter of time before I hanged, might as well make it sooner than later.”

Litton snorted, then started to laugh in earnest. Aedion just stared at him in confusion. “Well,” he said, when he was able to catch his breath, “I guess it’s ended up being later, huh?”

*****

It was after dark before Mikkal reached the gates. He greeted the unfamiliar sentinel, and was passed through with a bow. If his status didn’t earn him respect, his last name always did. It was the reason he had left this camp six years earlier; he didn’t want everyone falling over themselves because of his name. He wanted to earn his own promotions, and between the battles in Terrasen and now his service in Fenharrow he had finally done so.

It had not been his idea to return here, even if he hated the outpost near Bellhaven. But much of his advancement stemmed from his work with younger officers, and this round of officer training was being done here, so here he had been sent. He had planned on spending more time in town as he wasn’t due in for a few more days, but town had bored him. That golden-haired lieutenant had not.

Leaving his horse in the stables, he went straight to the main house. The housekeeper greeted him effusively. “Is the general in his study?” he asked, kissing her on the cheek.

“No, sir, he and your mother are at dinner. They weren’t expecting you till the end of the week, they’ll be thrilled you’re home.” Dropping his bags in the foyer, he took a deep breath and headed into the dining room.

Mrs. Giffard wasn’t wrong; on his appearance, his mother burst into tears and his father rose and embraced him. They ushered him into a chair and his mother fussed at one of the servants to get him a plate and some wine. His father leaned back and surveyed him with satisfaction.

“I can’t tell you, son, how happy I am to have you home. Or should I call you Captain Paget now?” He chuckled and Mikkal smiled politely. “You’re early, only about half your class are here yet so you can have a few days to spend some time with your mother.” His mother gushed and he murmured some words of agreement. The conversation was initially a little stilted, partly because his mother kept crying, but soon smoothed into a wide-ranging discourse on books, music, and the differences between Fenharrow and Adarlan. As the brandy was served, the general leaned back in his chair.

“Since you’re here early, I’d like your input on one of your new officers.”

“Oh?”

His father nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I think we may have a bit of a problem with him.”

“Already? How did he get promoted if he’s a problem?”

The general shook his head. “Not that kind of a problem. You should have a look at the report on him.”  His mother glared at them both. “He’s been here for all of an hour and you’re already putting him to work?” His father looked sheepish, but Mikkal was intrigued.

“It’s all right, Mother, I’d love to see what the situation is.”

They took their leave of her and headed into the study. The general lifted a large stack of papers, flipped through, and pulled one out. As Mikkal was reaching for it, he found himself thinking, Not him. Not the beautiful one.

He flipped open the folder, and of course it was him. Prince Aedion Ashryver, originally of Wendlyn then Terrasen. Interesting. The young man at the inn had shown none of the arrogance he would have expected of a prince, just what is natural to a freakishly large and attractive man. Age: sixteen. “Shit.” He said that out loud without meaning to.

His father just nodded, assuming a different problem than that his son had seriously considered taking a sixteen year old to bed. “Keep reading.”

Taken prisoner after killing several Adarlanian soldiers during the last battle in Terrasen, converted into a soldier for Adarlan. Had been training other recruits since fourteen. Sparring with older soldiers for the same time frame. Excellent horseman. Proficient with sword, dagger, throwing knives, bow, crossbow, and in hand to hand. Flawless record for sentry duty. Notes from Corporal Taber about excellence in strategic discussion. He flipped the page to see the letter from Major Farrers, scanned it, and looked up at his father. “He killed a man with one punch?”

The general looked grave. “Evidently. You’ll note Farrers is careful to state that it was a fair fight, but that the boy is stronger and faster than anybody had realized. Apparently he admitted he’d been pulling his punches since he was assimilated, but it sounds like the other man was insubordinate and he was trying to put him on the ground to prove a point.”

Mikkal whistled. “Well, he sure as hell did that.” He thought back to what he had observed from Ashryver at the inn and around the town. He hadn’t seemed overtly aggressive at any point; intimidating, perhaps, for ordinary citizens, but for the most part he’d been polite, amusing, unassuming.

“One of your tasks will be to devise a way for him to work out without killing anybody. We don’t want him in the habit of slowing himself down or weakening his blows, but we can’t risk our men either.”

“I’ll think of something,” Mikkal says. “This should be interesting.”

His father grinned then, a playful expression few ever saw. “I met him, you know. Right after he’d been captured. He was bruised and exhausted, and he was the most defiant creature I have ever seen in my life. I wasn’t even sure he was human, the way he looked at me.” He chuckled. “I told Breiner he should kill him while he had the chance, but he was adamant the boy could be turned.”

Mikkal mulled this over. “You think Breiner was right?”

“I hope so, son. I hope so.”

*****

The evening passed in a flurry of meeting new people, with the usual posturing and half-joking verbal sparring that always seemed to occur when soldiers met. The officers were encouraged to socialize, and there was even a small meeting room with a bar designed for that purpose. Aedion and Litton backed each other up, telling stories of their travels in tandem. As the hour started to grow late, Aedion tossed back one last drink and stood. “I’m going to go check on my horse,” he announced when he noticed all the eyes turning to him.

“Is that some sort of code?” one of the other men quipped.

Aedion grinned, and Litton piped up. “Nah, he’s just in love with his horse.” There was laughter and a few whistles at that.

“Come on, my friend, have you seen my horse? She’s beautiful.” Everyone laughed again as he made his escape. Avenar was fine, of course. The stable boy had been true to his word: her coat was gleaming, her tack polished, and she was knee-deep in straw. She nickered at him, and he rubbed her white spot for a while until she got bored and turned back to her hay. Litton’s and Raedan’s horses were fine too. He needed sleep, but the mere thought of lying alone in the dark gave him the jitters, so he explored the camp for a while until he heard the other officers returning to their living quarters. He and Litton were sharing with an experienced lieutenant and a captain, who had surveyed them both dispassionately and told them to make sure they cleaned up after themselves. He lay awake for a long time, gazing out his window at the constellations so familiar to him. He wondered where Delaney was, if she had found Darrow yet. If Avis and Maida were safe. If the gray-eyed woman had ever thought of him again after she had left without a good-bye. Where Mikkal was, and whether he’d appear at this camp…

The next morning, he was up early and spoiling for a workout. His lack of sleep had not cured his restlessness; if anything it had made it worse. Once he was out on the pitch, sword in his hand, he finally felt like he could take a real breath. Aedion’s opponent was a major who was perhaps thirty, with a pleasant face and a no-nonsense manner of handling his weapons. With the first clash of metal, Aedion found himself settled back in his body. Major Ivry was an excellent fighter, the best he had faced since sparring with Rhoe’s men, and time was called before either disarmed the other. It was the first time in over a year he hadn’t won a sword fight, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he bowed to the older man and received a bow in return.

The midday meal was the only one officers shared with the regulars, and Aedion was pleased to be find Raedan sitting with a group of fellow trainees. He slipped into the empty chair next to his friend, and was introduced around. It was obvious Raedan went up several notches in the other boys’ estimation for being on a first name basis with the new Lieutenant Ashryver, but as Aedion joined in with the teasing and raunchy jokes they soon seemed to forget that he outranked them. Until abruptly a familiar musky scent hit him, and the table around him hushed. He looked around to see Mikkal standing behind him, a captain’s insignia on his tunic. Standing, he inclined his head. “Captain.”

“Lieutenant.” Mikkal nodded once in return. “If you would be so kind as to join me, there are a few things I’d like to discuss.” With a quick smile to the trainees, Aedion followed him, trying to figure out if he was in some sort of trouble, or if this was merely an excuse to get him alone. Both options seemed equally likely, though what he could have done wrong already was a mystery. Mikkal led him out of the dining hall and down to the pitch, where he turned and examined him, arms crossed.

“I was watching you this morning, and I read your file,” Mikkal finally said.

“Sir?” Aedion replied, now pretty certain he was more on the in-trouble end of things.

“How long have you been holding back in your fighting?”

Oh. “Since I was about eleven, sir.”

“Why?”

“I broke another boy’s cheekbone, sir.” He found he hated calling this man sir, when all he wanted to do was drag him into another stairwell. Or a bedroom.

“And with weapons?”

“I only hold back with weapons if I’m helping train, sir.”

“So this morning, that was your best fight?”

“Well, sir, Major Ivry is a better swordsman than I’ve been up against in a while. I didn’t hold back, but I don’t know that it was my best fight.”

Mikkal nodded thoughtfully. “I’m going to have some dummies made so you can work your punches full-strength on something you can’t kill.” Aedion grimaced, but the captain didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll still have you work hand-to-hand some with people, but we may do something a bit differently, we’ll have to see.” He flashed a quick smile. “I’m your new trainer, by the way.”

*****

Mikkal walked away before he could do something utterly stupid. Following the session this morning, he had queried Ivry about Ashryver. The major was the best swordsman they had, which was why they had been paired. Ivry had shaken his head wryly. “That boy took every ounce of skill I had, Paget. And that’s with him being underweight and not yet fully grown. He’s faster than he has any right to be. Give him another thirty pounds of muscle and I’m not sure there’s any mortal alive who could stand against him.”

After making Ashryver demonstrate his skill with the bow, knife fighting, and throwing knives, Mikkal had reached the conclusion that there was nobody in the camp who could teach him anything about fighting. All they could do was build him up physically, and train him in strategy and managing people. Though the boy was confident in his skill, he wasn’t cocky. No, he was meticulous. And with those restless turquoise eyes and those broad shoulders and hands…yes, Mikkal was smart to depart when he did.

He spent the afternoon taking his mother into town to do some shopping and visiting. Naturally she kept enquiring about whether he had any particular lady friends in Fenharrow, and scoffing when he replied in the negative. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had women, it was simply that they bored him. He wondered what she’d say if she knew he desperately wanted to bed a teenage lieutenant he was responsible for training. As it was, she introduced him to several eligible young ladies in town, and he smiled prettily at them as they did at him but his mind was on his work. Not just Ashryver, but he had to do right by the rest of them as well. So he planned his program with half his brain, while playing the role of dutiful son and polite officer with the other.

As he escorted his mother back to the camp, he saw Ashryver laughing in the square with several of the other young officers. Their eyes met, and the boy gave him a brief flash of a cocky smile before turning back to the others. I can’t, Mikkal lectured himself sternly, citing all the reasons why it was a bad idea. Not that it was unusual for soldiers to share each other’s beds; but it was frowned upon for a superior officer to take an inferior one as a lover, especially if they were working closely together. He made a vow that for the next three months, he would treat Ashryver solely as a promising young lieutenant and nothing more.

*****

Delaney waited five days for Clery to send word. She passed the time when she wasn’t working exercising Horse and memorizing the city. Finally, she received a message one evening that she was expected the next morning; Lord Darrow would meet with her at Clery’s with a small collection of other people. She told the innkeeper and was given permission to take the day off from her laundry duties.

Her palms were sweating by the time she was admitted into Clery’s house. Though the layout was familiar to her, she somehow felt like a stranger. She was shown into the parlor, and she curtsied before the cold-faced lord and his entourage.

“Well, girl,” Darrow said waspishly, “I suppose you better tell us your story. Who sent you?”

Delaney straightened up, lifting her chin. She would not be afraid. “Aedion Ashryver, your lordship.”

Clery made a choking noise behind her. “Impossible! Aedion Ashryver is dead.”

The word clanged through her. Her knees recognized the meaning before her brain did, and she collapsed to the floor as everything went dark.

*****

It could not have been long before she awoke to gentle hands lightly slapping her face. Pain speared through her heart, and she swallowed hard against the sob building in her throat. Aedion, oh, Aedion, brother of my heart. She never should have left him to those bastards. How much had he suffered…

Clery’s concerned face swam into view, and she heard Darrow in the background say drily, “Still think she’s lying then?”

Clery glared over his shoulder, then turned back to her. “Delaney,” he said gently, but she couldn’t quite attend him. “Delaney!” More sharply. She blinked, and her vision cleared. “It seems I was wrong,” he said soothingly. “Lord Darrow informs me that though we were all under the impression Ashryver was killed in the battle against Adarlan,” he directed a venomous glance at the lord, “he actually was taken prisoner. Perhaps you can enlighten us on what happened since then?”

“He’s…” Her voice was quavering, and she gritted her teeth for a moment to try to find some control. “He’s still alive, then?”

“Yes,” said Darrow, watching her narrowly. “And according to the report I just received this week, he’s now a lieutenant for the King of Adarlan.”

Delaney pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and took a few deep shuddering breaths that turned into sobs. Alive, he was alive and a lieutenant. After a moment she regained her composure, and was helped shakily into a chair by a man she didn’t know.

“Quite an interesting response, young lady,” Darrow said.

“When I left…when I left he was in danger. I wasn’t sure if those Adarlanian bastards had killed him.” The men glanced at each other uneasily.

“Are you not from Adarlan yourself?”

Delaney shrugged indifferently. “Technically. I was raised in General Perrington’s war camp. If that’s not a motivator for a woman to turn against her country, I don’t know what is.”

She told them the whole story then, from hiding for years to avoid being taken by force, to the first time Aedion had stumbled over her when newly at Perrington’s camp. The hanging of the Terrasen guard earned grim looks from among the assembled company. She talked about how they had become friends, how he had basically adopted she and her siblings as family. How he fought like an animal and nobody knew what to make of him, so they tossed him in with the experienced soldiers. How everyone in camp seemed to love him, from the lowest stable boy to the highest officer, with the exception of the general. She told them about the confrontation with Balam over the thrown knife, and she teared up again when she got to how she had found him tied up, bleeding and barely conscious that night. Here she fudged a little bit, leaving out the details of the torture he had endured, that she had been unable to save him from. Only Darrow seemed to notice she was withholding information; his lips pressed into a thin line, but he let it go.

Finally, she reached the point when he had ordered her to leave, and she looked straight at Darrow. “He told me to come here, to find you. He wanted me to tell you he was alive, and that he was finding a way.”

“Finding a way. Is that the only message?”

She pulled out the map that had been left in her pack, with its little fable on the back. Hesitantly, she handed it to him. He scanned it quickly, then read it again more slowly before giving it to Clery who did the same. They exchanged a look. ‘’Do you know what this means?” Clery asked her.

“No,” she said, a little defiantly.

“He gave it to you but didn’t explain it?”

“It was in the pack.” They both looked at her expectantly. “He had hidden a pack for me, I didn’t know until the night he sent me away. This was in the bottom.”

“Why did he hide a pack for you?” Clery asked in bewilderment. “Surely he couldn’t have known he’d be…caught.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure that out for over a month.”

Clery turned to Darrow. “Surely now you see. Surely now you agree. We’ve got to rally the Bane. Rally them, and get him out of Adarlan. He’s the only surviving member of the royal family! If we find him, he can rule!”

“No.”

“What?” Clery exploded out of his chair. “You’re going to leave Prince Ashryver to those butchers? He could be key to winning this fight!”

“Did you not read this?” Darrow sneered, pointing at the paper in Clery’s hand. “We cannot go in there after him. Besides, he is not a Galathynius, he cannot rule. The lords rule Terrasen now, like it or no.”

“The King of Adarlan rules Terrasen,” Clery spat. “You sit and do nothing.”

Darrow just stared at Clery impassively for a long moment before turning to Delaney. “You, girl, what do you think?”

“What?” she asked, startled.

“We knew him as a boy. You’ve known him as he’s becoming a man. What do you think he wants us to do?”

She looked from one man to the other. While her heart ached to agree with Clery and go after her friend, her head told her he meant to stay. They could have escaped together that night, and he wouldn’t even let her try to get him out. The fact that he was still alive and had been made an officer…She spoke hesitantly. “Aedion - he’s smart. Smarter than you might think. He could have gotten out, if not with me, then after. If I had to guess, he’s got some sort of plan.” She thought for a minute, all the little stories he’d told her of his cousin, of his country, trying to piece it all together. “I do know he’s loyal to Terrasen, and wants her freedom. I know he never stopped grieving his cousin.” All the men in the room, even Darrow, flinched a little at that. “I think he wants to rise up in the army, maybe turn it against itself.”

Darrow looked to Clery, cold triumph lighting his eyes. “For now, we wait. We heed what he wrote. Let us see if he tries to make contact with us again.”

“Fine.” Clery threw the map down. “But I’m putting spies down near the border.”

The lord nodded. “Concentrate them near Paget’s camp. That’s where he should be, if my information is correct.”

Clery turned to Delaney. “Get your horse and your belongings. You’re moving in here.” He turned and stalked out of the room, leaving her staring after him, open-mouthed. Darrow chuckled, a dry sound like sticks rubbing against each other.

“Well, young lady. It looks like you’ve just stepped up in the world.” He rose, and with a nod to his companions gathered up the map and left. Delaney realized a bit belatedly that she still had no idea what the message had been, but at least she had fulfilled her promise. With a sigh, she gathered up her scattered emotions and went to get Horse.

#prequel #aedion #aedion ashryver #tog #my writing #throne of glass

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phff-ajourneytoremember · 6 years

Text

Chapter Six

A/N: I apologize for not updating as frequently but here is the next chapter! I hope you enjoy it! I would love to hear what you think of it, good or bad!

“I want you to come with us! It will do you good Soph.” Rowan tried her best to convince Sophia that a vacation would do her some good. “What can a little sun hurt?”

Standing on her tippy toes Sophia grabbed a box from the top shelf placing it in her grocery cart. The squeaky wheels drug along the waxed white flooring as she continued to check off the items on her grocery list.

“I don’t know Rowe.” She dragged out undecidedly.

“It’s last minute I know, but someone cancelled and I swear it is not a couple’s trip.” Her friend was relentless in her persuasion; after all she was a lawyer and could win the toughest cases or any argument. “It will be a good escape for a few days Sophia.”

Rowan did have a point; maybe a little vacation would not be such a terrible idea. Her parent’s separation had somehow made its way to the front pages of the SUN, causing nothing but more strife between members of her family. Blaming Sophia’s mother for the leak, her father decided to release his own statement in hopes to save face in the public eye claiming that their marriage was stronger than ever.

Image was everything to her father; going to great lengths to cultivate the image of the perfect British family, one that was better fit to rule than the tumultuous Windsor clan that sat upon it’s throne. Sophia played her part along with the rest of her family; part of the reason why she had ran away from the prince a few weeks ago. The disapproving look on her father’s face haunted her, no matter how hard she tried to get it out of her head Sophia knew she could never be with Harry.

Harry had been right, but she could not admit to the fear her father held over her head; he would not understand her feelings she held for the prince. They simply could not be together, in any sort of form. That didn’t mean it was any easier for her to get the prince out of her mind. He lingered there, invading her thoughts day-to-day replaying the way he kissed her that night in her mind.

Her mind was in a daze, reminding her again of the way he held her hand of how it fit into his grasp like the perfect puzzle piece. The sweet scent of him burned in her nose as her heart skipped a beat…

Bumping into someone’s cart, her thoughts were rudely interrupted from their daydreaming. “I’m sorry sir…” Apologizing profusely, Sophia realized she was still on the phone with Rowan.

“Ok ok. I will come…” Sophia reluctantly agreed through pursed lips. Rowan’s loud squeals of happiness rang in her ear loudly.

“I will tell the crew that you are going! Ben’s friends are amazing and he will be so happy you are coming to celebrate his birthday! We are leaving in two days, quite early in the morning and don’t worry about the private plane, it’s on us!”

“Thanks Rowe. I owe you one.” With that Sophia hung up the phone. A bubbling sense of relief started to flourish within her. Knowing that a little time in the sun and the waves of the beautiful Seychelles Islands was the perfect getaway she required, spending it with friends and days filled with laughter and alcohol would make her forget the struggles that kept her landed at home. It was time that she took the chance to be selfish.

Parking her cart at the cashier’s aisle she placed her items on the belt. Waiting patiently for her turn she scanned the corners of the trashy magazine covers giggling at the ridiculousness of the cover stories.

That’s when her eyes fell upon him. Seeing his arm wrapped around a brunette woman’s arm as he exited a popular club he attended. Her heart sank in her chest, crushing her lungs in the process.

It was Harry pictured with a mysterious new brunette woman with writing plastered over the front saying ‘Has Prince Harry found a new royal girlfriend?’

Not being able to contain herself, Sophia grabbed the magazine and skimmed the article. How had he moved on from her already? Sophia could not stop thinking about him in the past weeks since their kiss. Mind you it was she that ran away from him and strictly told Harry nothing could ever happen between them. But so quickly, how could he?

I guess he never thought twice about me…. I guess he never cared how I would feel.

With that thought she placed the magazine back in its slot, burying along with it every thought and feeling she ever held for the prince. It was not worth her heart or mind constantly thinking about someone who clearly had not cared for her the same way she did for Harry.

If he was going to move on this quickly, so would she. Adding yet another reason to attend Ben’s birthday trip.

Maybe this was what she needed to get her mind off of the prince for good.

Glancing out the window of the SUV the private plane came into Sophia’s view. It was nothing that she wasn’t used to; she had been on a few before hand but preferred to not waste her money on luxury. Working with the Red Cross, Sophia had become accustomed to flying all over the world, mostly on uncomfortable cargo planes.

The railing of the steps up to the plane smoothed over across the palm of her hand, her fingers gripping it lightly to steady herself while pulling her bags up them. Ducking her head beneath the entrance she was greeted by the pilot and flight stewardess who took her bags and handed her a glass of champagne.

Following in behind Ben and Rowen she met a couple, Marcus and Lena, joining them on their trip. Not knowing anyone else she was forced to make small talk with Lena, taking up the seat behind Rowen at the back of the plane.

Her small frame settled into the plush leather chair that reclined back into a bed for the long trip ahead of them. Taking a sip of her champagne Sophia chuckled at a joke Marcus had made at the expense of his girlfriend Lena. The light of the window beside her caused her head to swivel, looking out at the planes taking off going to whatever their destination maybe.

That’s when she heard a familiar posh voice.

“Hey mate.”

Snapping her head towards the direction of the voice she searched for its source knowing in her mind who it belonged to. Her hand flew to her mouth, silencing her gasp as Harry stood at the front of the plane greeting Ben. Gripping the arm rest beside her she tried to catch her breath feeling a sense of dizziness circle in her head.

Ben and Harry were friends, this she knew. Rowen did not allude to the fact that the prince would be joining them on this trip. There was no way that Rowen would invite Sophia had she known.

Those deep blue eyes caught her staring at him. He paused for a brief moment unsure of whether to proceed down the aisle to greet the rest of the group. A display of shock graced his face for every one to see, a look that did not go unnoticed but was hidden in its true meaning.

“Sorry Harry. Rowe invited her… I didn’t think you were coming.” Ben leaned in hoping to explain why Sophia was here with them. Everyone aboard that plane, hell everyone across England knew the unaltered hate between the Cromwell’s and the Windsor’s.

“It’ll be fine Ben. I don’t hate her, besides my plans changed last minute.” Harry reassured his friend with a faint smile hoping to down play the situation. The real reason was not that at all, it was the fact that Sophia and him now shared a past, one she evidently hoped to have kept buried. A smile tugged at his lips thinking that this trip would be the perfect chance for him and Sophia to work things out. It’s not like she could hide or run from him now.

Hanging her head low trying to hide her gaze Harry smirked sensing how uncomfortable she was feeling in that moment. Walking slowly towards her Harry saw the seat across from her free; picking his pace up he kept his gaze on her until her blue eyes peaked up at him.

Leaning on the seat in front of her Sophia was forced to look up at him. “Hello Harry…”

“Sophia…” Harry winked at her watching a faint blush appear on her cheeks. Knowing Sophia was trying her best to not smile at the fact he was here she cleared her throat nervously, fidgeting with her hands.

“Is this seat taken?”

“It’s yours if you want… but there are better ones in the front…” Sophia tried to convince Harry to sit anywhere else but across from her. The aisles were small, making it feel that Harry was nearly sitting right beside her.

Rowe turned her head rounding it into view from the seat ahead of her. “I didn’t know he was coming… I’m sorry Sophia.”

“It’s alright Rowen. It’s about Ben this weekend, don’t worry about me!” Sophia spoke loud enough so Harry would pick up on that fact. Seeing his head turn slightly Sophia knew he had heard her.

Sinking back into her seat she closed her eyes gripping the handles of the seat waiting for the plane to take off. No matter how many times she had been on a plane, the take off always terrified her for an unknown reason. Closing her eyes she listened to the engines firing up.

Harry sat down buckling himself in securely in the seat across the aisle from Sophia. Taking a brief glance in her direction he saw her tense body stiffen, gripping the arm rests tight. He wanted nothing more than to try and distract her from her obvious distress she expressed on her face.

“Sophia…” Harry whispered loud enough for only her to hear. Her blue eyes sprung open turning to look at him, her mouth slightly parted.

“You ok?” He mouthed to her displaying a look of concern.

Biting down on her lower lip she forced out a lie with a simple nod of her head.

‘Look at me…’ Harry mouthed to Sophia in silence. ‘It will be over soon.’ His blue eyes held a comforting gaze that calmed her nerves. Not wanting to fall again under his spell Sophia was hesitant to keep their eyes locked, but revelled in the feeling it surrounded her with like Harry was right beside her comforting her.

“Soph…” Her friend Rowen was gently shaking her body awake. “Sophia!” The voice became louder as her eyes sprung open from a deep slumber. “Hey we are landing now!”

“Ok ok I am up.” Sophia sat up slowly, stretching her arms up as she yawned tiredly. A set of blue eyes were smirking at her from across from her seat that helped to form her narrowing eyes at the prince.

The plane had landed safely in the Seychelles as everyone was standing up grabbing their overhead bags. Sophia gave her bag another tug unable to reach it high up in the overhead bins. Muttering beneath her breath she silently spoke profanities.

An arm reached above her and pulled it down. “Let me help.”

Sophia peaked up at the figure towering over her from behind. Of course it was Harry grinning proudly down at her as he gently placed her bag in his hands.

“Thank you Harry.” Sophia chose to be polite towards the prince, even though all she wanted was to ignore him and enjoy her mini holiday.

Making their way to the private beach front villa everyone started to explore their home for the next few days. Rowen had rented it out, which clearly had costed a fortune based on the size and amenities of it. Sophia dropped her bag and immediately ran straight out the door towards the beach.

Her toes squished in the warm white sand feeling the ocean breeze tousle her blonde hair. The waves came crashing in to the shore in a calming manner. This was exactly what she had needed to get away from all the stresses and worries back in England.

Closing her eyes she heard someone step quietly towards her silently turning around she could not hide her beaming smile seeing that it was Harry. Her smile faded when she saw his concerned expression.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” He stood beside her taking in the amazing view with arms crossed defensively.

“It’s breathtaking…” Sophia smiled up at him with curiosity. Harry would not look at her as he stared straight ahead into the ocean with a furrowed brow as if he was deep in thought.

“Harry? What’s wrong?”

“Rowe is trying to fix it don��t worry…” Harry put on a masked smile as he turned his attention to the blonde.

“Tell me.” Her voice became stern demanding to know.

“Rowen and you are going to stay together in a room, cause there aren’t enough beds for you and me to have a separate one.” He sighed deeply pausing. “Unless… you are ok sharing a bed with me.” Blue eyes held her gaze while she repeated every word.

Share a bed with Harry? I can’t…. but it’s Ben’s birthday? Sophia was trapped deep in thought pouring through every scenario. How can she ask that of Rowen?

“That’s not fair to Ben….” Sophia quietly whispered.

“Look, I don’t want this to be awkward or uncomfortable for you. So let’s just be ok with sharing and I will sleep on the couch in the room. It’s no big deal for me.” Harry kindly offered knowing that Sophia was being put in a tough spot.

“What about your girlfriend?” Sophia bravely asked with a slightly annoyed tone. Harry’s head lifted from the sand displaying a confused look. “The one you left Mahiki with?” Her voice fell into a whisper.

“Sophia… that was my friends girlfriend.” He tossed his head back in laughter. “You should know better than to jump to conclusions from a mere picture.”

Her blue eyes stared into the depths of his. Maybe she was wrong about Harry… maybe he did still care and want her the same way she so desperately wanted him. Shaking her head lightly from the thought she heard the door open from behind them.

Rowen and Ben came walking out towards them making Harry glance back over his shoulder angling his body. He had wanted to discuss the options with Sophia first before being put on the spot. Even though things with them had ended quite rocky he still respected Sophia. He did not expect to see her on the trip, but a tiny part of him was ecstatic to see her again after everything, like it was a second chance for them to figure out what was happening between them.

“Sophia! Can I talk to you for a minute?” Rowen dragged the blonde away from Harry and Ben. Sophia quickly took one last glance at Harry wanting to know what she should do.

“What is it?” Sophia pretended not to know giving her an extra few seconds to make up her mind.

“So, I originally had invited another couple before we invited you and I didn’t think that Harry was coming so I thought there were enough beds and well… there aren’t….” Rowen smiled weakly with caution as she treaded around issue.

“Will you be ok sharing with Harry? I completely understand if you don’t want to cause me and you can just share one and the boys can if it’s an issue at all!” Rowen continued explaining.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind sharing with him. I am not going to make you do that to Ben on his birthday.” Sophia plastered on fake smile acting like she was completely fine with the idea when she internally knew it was a terrible choice sharing a bed with Harry.

“Great! You are the best!!” Her friend pulled her into a warm tight hug. While her eyes landed back on Harry giving him a guilty smile.

Mind if I take this blanket?” Harry walked out of the bathroom glancing at Sophia that had pulled the covers around her body already careful not to show the prince any part of her silky pajamas. It had been a long day for everyone and all they wanted was some much-needed sleep.

“Yeah, and the other one too if you want Harry.” Sophia sat up in bed feeling guilty as she watched Harry walk away with pillows and blankets heading towards the sofa. It was unfair to him that he was the one to sleep on the uncomfortable sofa and her get the bed all to herself.

Harry flipped the light switch off still having enough light from the bed side lamp where Sophia was sitting up watching him carefully, to safely make his way to the sofa. Pulling off of his shirt he tossed it in the general direction of his bag wearing only his boxer shorts. Making himself comfortable as he could on the sofa he laid his head down on the pillow knowing Sophia’s eyes were still on him.

“Are you going to turn off the light?” Harry giggled quietly as he watched her sit up higher in bed.

Sophia closed her eyes briefly knowing it was a terrible idea what she was about to do, but she could not let Harry sleep there. “No….” She smiled at him weakly.

“Because you need to find your way back into this bed.” There was a part that worried her even more knowing that she did not regret inviting the prince to share the bed with her. He had been a gentleman and offered to sleep on the sofa, but she could not make him do that for the rest of the week. A small voice in her head was curious what it would be like to sleep next to him.

“Sophia it’s fine I can sleep here. It’s no big- ” He started to reassure Sophia, not wanting to play on her guilt.

“Harry, please just come. I cannot let you sleep on that lumpy sofa… we are adults I think we can both be respectful and share a bed together right?” Sophia half questioned herself remembering the last time she had been in Harry’s presence that ended with a kiss she would never be able to forget. She was asking for trouble.

The prince slowly sat up, placing his feet on the marbled flooring. “You get one last chance to change your mind Cromwell.” Harry warned her with a narrowing of the eyes as he stepped closer to the bed pulling the blankets along with him.

“Get here in before I regret it Wales.” Sophia could not help but giggle at him seeing his crooked smirk flash on his lips.

“What are you doing?” Harry could feel a pile of pillows along side his back. He turned over to look at the blonde making a pillow wall between them.

“Making sure you stay on your side.” Sophia was completely serious. “No funny business Harry.” She heeded yet another warning that he better keep his promise and stay on his side.

Harry was too tired to continue arguing with her so he flipped on his side facing her, knowing it would bother her more. Sophia was face to face with the prince shaking her head at him knowing that he was trying to get under her skin.

“It’s not going to work Harry.”

“We will see about that. This pillow wall will be non-existent by morning. We both know you cannot resist me…” His blue eyes winked at her causing an eye roll.

“You know better than to try a Cromwell.” Sophia laughed away his response.

“You should have known better not to kiss me then!”

“Harry!!” Sophia gasped before making herself face the other direction not wanting to see the pure giddy smile that was gently placed on her lips.

Sophia quickly fell into a deep sleep, sharing the bed with Harry as well as sharing her dreams with him.

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