Fyrn

(Whipped up another flash fiction piece, also not quite close enough to what I need for the magazine submission but getting closer to the mark. Also, I think I'm going to write more with this character in future)

Fyrn couldn’t say when exactly the child turned up.

Somewhere between the last town and the start of the canyons, certainly. Plenty of small settlements in the region, preyed upon by bandits and kingcloaks alike - wouldn’t be unheard of for some wise parent to send their littles into the hills when such a party arrived.

But for one to turn up on the trade road? Alone? That didn’t sit well with Fyrn.

She’d been hired to guard the caravan from thieves and such, serve as a living warning to any kingcloaks that might turn up. Didn’t mean she couldn’t leave a bit of food behind when they got rolling each morning. Or drop her spare blanket at the edge of camp one night, outside the route walked by the pair of sentries. Her meals came free, after all, and there would be plenty of merchants to buy another blanket from at the end of the journey.

The child did well to keep out of anyone else’s sight, but Fyrn kept on catching glimpses, once or twice a day. A messy head of thick black hair ducking into a cliff crevice. Dirty hands darting to scoop some water from a horse’s bucket. Wide, dark eyes that twice met Fyrn’s own, staring for several seconds before their owner scooted out of view once more.

Several days into the sprawling canyons, Fyrn pretended to misplace her waterskin. The next morning, she awoke on her bedroll to find a tidy pile of small, bright yellow flowers laid on top of her sword. Smiling, she threaded each one into the laces of her jerkin. A few drivers tried to snicker, of course, but leaning close into one’s personal space with her lips pulled just a little too wide to be called a smile shut them all up soon enough.

She liked flowers.

She didn’t like when they almost all fell out during the fight some hours later.

Four and ten kingcloaks came riding down the road, spared one look at the heavy merchant wagons that pulled off to one side to let them pass, and promptly declared they needed to ‘inspect’ the goods for any ‘illegal’ items. The merchants took offense. Fyrn stepped up, planting herself in-between the dismounted party and the wagons.

Four and ten against one, and she still managed to kill half before taking a single wound.

After that, the fight turned uglier, some of the wagon drivers needing to take shots with their crossbows to finish it. Fyrn stabbed, she twisted and lunged, ignored the spreading burn in her shoulders and legs and gut. Her blade flashed as it swung, singing with each strike, until the last kingcloak went down.

Some of the merchants came out from hiding behind their wagons. They praised Fyrn, promised extra payment for her valor, guided her stumbling form to the half-empty supply cart. Two climbed up to help her in, cleaned and dressed her wounds, offered to fetch whatever she needed.

Fyrn only asked for a cloth to clean her sword.

After a time, the attention ceased, as merchants and drivers dispersed to bury the kingcloaks and ‘inspect’ their own belongings. Leaning back with her eyes closed, Fyrn kept her breathing steady as she waited for the pain to ease.

A light thump drew her attention.

Eyes snapping back open, she almost lunged upright, sword still in hand. But a pair of dark eyes made her freeze instead.

The child waited until Fyrn eased back against the sacks of grain and vegetables. Cautious steps eased forward, and little hands unfolded Fyrn’s spare blanket to drape across her legs. She huffed. Then plucked the sole remaining flower from her jerkin, to tuck behind the child’s ear.

When one of the drivers returned to announce they were about to resume travel, he stopped short and stared at the small figure curled up beside Fyrn. A single arched eyebrow made the man stammer out his message; a curt nod sent him on his way.

The child giggled. Fyrn tugged on a strand of curly hair, smirking.

No one else bothered to say a word or spare a glance at the caravan’s new tagalong, who proved to be very helpful in playing step-and-fetch for everything she needed. By the time her wounds healed into some impressive new scars, Fyrn decided she’d look into buying a good quality dagger at the end of their journey for her new student to practice using.

Little Witch - Part 13

The Darkling x Reader

This is more of a filler chapter, I wanted to write something where reader is in action🤭

As much as you loved to keep your personal and work life separate, the life at the Little Palace rarely allowed for such things. Rumors spread and tensions rose and much to your dismay the privacy of Aleksander's chambers only reached so far. Everywhere you went eyes followed you with a sense of interest, poking and prodding for the details of why the Deputy General had stayed in the Darkling's quarters, but more importantly why you raced out of there in the dead of the night, slamming every door possible with loud echoing thuds.

You ignored it all, you had work to do. Currently, you stood waiting in the courtyard for your horses, your recruited Grisha in tow. You had asked Fedyor for the best soldiers, ones who could be ruthless and loyal. Two Heartrenderers, an Inferni and the Squaller you now knew as Zoya waited behind you, shivering from a sudden gust of freezing wind.

The weather had gotten brutal over the past few days but this mission couldn't wait. You had gotten intel that somehow a Kerch merchant kidnapped Grisha while they traveled between camps and was keeping them in a home not far from the Palace, waiting to transport them across the Fold and use them as indentures. This angered you beyond means of explanation.

Your stableboy brought out your beautiful chestnut brown Arabian, and you quickly hoisted yourself up. You would all be going on horseback despite the weather, for a carriage would slow you down significantly.

'Zoya, I'll need you upfront with me, if it starts to snow heavily we'll clear the way.' You addressed the Squaller, patiently waiting as she got up on her horse and came to rest beside you, giving you a curt nod.

'Ready?'

You brought your horse into a quick gallop, cringing as the cold whipped past you.

******

Riding a horse was only comfortable for so long before your tailbone began to ache. It had been around an hour, but you were almost there as a small village came into view over the hill. You stopped your horse and put up your hand signaling the rest to stop too.

'We leave our horses just there, where the forest fades-' You pointed over to a place just to your right, where tree coverage would protect your horses from the cold. '-we walk the rest of the way. All intel pointed to the house being secluded, most likely right before the village grows more populated.'

The thing with these missions was there was never an exact location, which frustrated you and from the loud sigh Zoya gave, it frustrated everyone else too. You all slid off your horses and walked them to the forest, tying them securely to trees and beginning the walk, making sure to stay hidden behind the trees.

'What's the plan?' Asked the Inferni.

'I go in first, neutralize any threats I can see. Fedyor, keep to my side but be behind me. The rest of you, your main priority is to look for the Grisha. Don't kill anybody unless I tell you to.' You could see the surprised look on their faces and you knew why.

Even though Aleksander was extremely powerful and immortal, he never walked into a fight first, he was always the one to walk into a clear path, never cleared it himself. You did things differently, liked to be in complete control.

'What did the General say about this?' He spoke again.

You stopped and turned to him.

'If you have any issues with how your superior is commanding the missions, I suggest you turn around and learn how to be a soldier.' You snapped. Aleksander had these people wrapped around his finger. He stared at you with wide eyes and almost immediately his composure dropped, succumbing to your intimidation.

'I don't have time for this nonsense.' You scoffed and walked ahead to where Zoya was searching for the hideout.

'Is it that one?' She pointed to a cabin about with a man guarding the front door. Bingo.

'He's too far, I need to get closer.' Fedyor's raised hands dropped down to his sides. The other Corporalnik nodded in agreement.

You turned away from the group and concentrated on the man, feeling for his pulse and once you gathered the understanding, gently stopped The flow of blood, watching as he fell to the snow-covered ground with a thud.

'Don't take offense, I'm much older' You patted the Heartrenders on the shoulders and ran to the cabin. You saw Zoya let out a strong gust of wind to open the door, almost knocking it off its hinges.

Shouts erupted all around and shots were fired. You bled shadows into the hallway, rendering the Kerch men blind, hoping they wouldn't shoot in the dark. Simultaneously, you slowed the heartbeats you could make out, hoping the shouts died down. With luck on your side, the cabin turned silent and you retreated your shadows.

Three men dressed in fine vests lay slumped on the floor, a pistol or rifle in each hand. Fedyor automatically bent down to take the guns out of their hands and looked around for something to detain them with. You could hear the rest of your crew search the cabin, the loud squeak of the cellar latch opening. You too went to look around, opening all the doors that could open and listening for the beating of one's heart. Nothing.

You grew angry at the possibility of the intel being incorrect. You came to the last door on the far end of the home which was slightly ajar. You could feel a faint pulse and as you opened the door, ready to protect yourself when your eyes caught sight of a purple kefta. A Fabrikator? The figure didn't move from where they were standing. Their hands weren't bound and neither were their legs.

'Are you here with the Second-Army?' Her voice was quiet but steady.

'Yes. Come with me' You moved away from the doorframe and into the hallway once again to let the Grisha through.

'Who are you?'

'Deputy General, now come on we must get going' You heard Zoya indicate from the cellar that they had found the Healer.

She moved away from the wall and walked to you with her head down, showing no indication of being thankful for being saved. Doubt pooled in your stomach but you let it go. You returned to the main room and stared at the three men tied up in the chairs but quickly averted your eyes to Zoya who appeared perplexed and for once, you shared her thoughts. The Inferni walked out with the Healer behind him and what looked like a Squaller to his right but nobody said anything. What is going on?

'Is anybody injured?' You spoke first amongst the crippling silence. Nobody responded. Suddenly out of the corner of your eye you saw the Fabrikator take one of the disposed pistols and point it at you, not hesitating to take shots. You deflected as best you could, protecting the others from the bullets but quickly realized the girl was a Durast and wherever she wanted to shoot, she could definitely make the shot.

You looked around and to your surprise, your Inferni was lying on the ground as the Healer battled Zoya. Fedyor was seemingly pushed up against the wall by the Squaller. What in Saint's name is going on. These are not my Grisha. Your falter caused your shadow shield to break and you felt a cold bullet lodge itself in your thigh where your kefta peeked open.

The pain was too strong, clouding your mind and momentarily prohibiting you from accessing your powers. Saints this hurts.

You reclaimed your mind, letting the merciless Cut wander out to her. The Durast screamed in horror as her hand dropped to the ground. You ignored it, letting your eyes wander to the Squaller and knocking her out with a wind so strong it rattled the cabin. Zoya managed to subdue the Healer, tacking to the ground and holding her hands above her head. You shot out a tendril of onyx shadow and restrained her, relieving Zoya of the uncomfortable position.

You were beyond angry, you were fuming. You harshly grabbed at the Durast, slamming her against the wall by the lapel of her kefta, your thigh screaming in pain. You could feel blood pooling in your riding boots.

'What is this?!' You hissed

'You're not taking us back. You will not force us to be part of that army'

'You would give up the Little Palace for the dirty streets of Ketterdam' The venom rolling off your tongue was almost paralyzing.

'If I am to serve your kind then of course. You're probably stealing my power as we speak' The room stilled and your pain was forgotten. Zoya held her breath, even the Healer's stomach dropped.

Something in you snapped, and with nothing more than a flex of your fingers, the girl's neck snapped, her lifeless body tumbling to the ground. You didn't say another word. Zoya took that as a sign to tell the rogue Grisha they will be tried as traitors, and restrained them both, taking over from you.

Your previous words came back into your mind, Don't kill anybody. You shame Aleksander for merciless killing yet you just did the same. You broke your own rule because somebody offended you. You fool.

You wordlessly limped out of the cabin, completely forgetting the bullet wound on your thigh.

***

The ride back to the Little Palace was torturous. The two traitors had been subdued and riding with the heartrenderes. Your thigh was in excruciating pain and upon entering the gates, you had felt completely numb. As far as you knew, nobody knew you were shot. You had left them to deal with the mess in the cabin, too blinded by anger and arrogance to help and act as the leader. But now, the only thing blinding you was tiredness which you knew wasn't good.

Your horse diligently walked to the courtyard doors but you didn't get off, you couldn't. Your eyes had shut on their own accord. The tiredness washed over you again and your head spun.

You could faintly make out the sound of your name being called by Fedyor asking about the traitors, but you paid him no mind, focusing all your attention on trying not to fall off your horse. Your head bopped, but you fought to stay awake and pass the wave of tiredness so you could walk to the healers unit, but it was relentless.

You felt somebody pull the reigns of your horse and lift the cloak covering your leg, you didn't argue. Then the shouts started. You couldn't hear what they said as your head bopped again, once, twice, then you let go.

****

The immense itching sensation on your thigh was overwhelming. If that wasn't the reason for you waking up, it was the loud argument taking place at the foot of the bed.

You managed to open your eyes to see a Healer working on your leg, looking very focused. She spared you a sweet smile then went right back to work. Oh Saint's this is so itchy. It took everything in you not to itch the bloody wound. Thankfully, the raised voices dragged your attention away.

'We didn't know, she just left!' Fedyor.

'If you'd have gotten here 10 minutes later she would have been dead' Aleksander.

'We thought she wa-'

'I don't care. Leave before I do something I regret' The door opened and shut. You suspected the only people left in the room were you, the Healer and a fuming Aleksander. If he knew you were awake, he showed no indication of it. You didn't need to look at him to know he was brooding. Was he mad that I'm injured or that the mission went sideways?

Your hands clenched as the itching sensation got worse. You hated being healed, it was even worse than being injured.

'If you clench that fist any harder you'll break your knuckles' His voice carried no anger anymore, it was soft but had an edge of plea in it.

You didn't respond. You didn't know what to say. You hadn't seen him since the other night when you confronted him about Alina, and he made no moves to approach you since then.

'I'll give you a written report mission once I'm done here.'

'No need. Zoya took care of it already' As much as you had tried to convince yourself you disliked the beautiful Squaller, she had really come in clutch today. You were thankful.

'Alright, that's all I can do for now. You did lose a lot of blood, so take it easy for the next couple of days.' The young girl got up and left after you muttered a quick thank you.

'Are you ok?'

'We just got ambushed by rogue Grisha who had personal vendettas against me, what do you think' You sat up and rested your head against the headboard, reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand.

'I should've cross-examined the intel. If I knew what they were I would've given you more reinforcements.' He leaned against the wall next to the door, sensing your hostility and keeping his distance

'I didn't need reinforcements. I was just caught off guard is all'

'You killed a-'

'Please, don't say it. , it wasn't my proudest moment.'

'Zoya kept it out of the report. Said she got caught in the cross-fire.'

I love you Zoya.

'Do you want me to leave?' His question made you freeze. On one hand, you were still angry about the other night and the comment he made, but on the other Aleksander always made you feel safe and his presence brought you peace.

'You probably have work to do. I do too anyway' You got up to leave the bed, but he quickly walked over to you, pushing you back down. You grabbed his hands out of reflex.

'Take it easy for the next couple of days. Is that not the advice you got?' He cocked a smile and traced a small pattern on your hand. You stared into his eyes and tried to find a reason to not fold into his embrace, you badly needed a hug, and he gives the best ones.

'Alright, but you can leave' Your answer surprised him, it surprised you too. Apparently subconsciously you still held a grudge against him.

'Y/N, Next time you get hit, please tell someone.' He whispered as he swooped down to kiss the top of your head lovingly, letting his lips linger for a moment. Just as you were about to give in and wrap your arms around him, his warmth left you.

'It won't kill you to take a day off.' He teased as he walked out the door.

I never got that hug.

Part 14

Taglist (tell me if u want to be added to the Little Witch taglist !!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess

Here’s a masterlist where u can find previous parts of Little Witch 🖤

*stops car at your drive thru* CAN I GET UUUUHHHH hate fuck with prosciutto after a paired up mission?? like a heavy discussion about how it went and then 🥴 uhhh yeah and extra fries

will that be all for your order?? ok your total is $4.69, please pull up to the first window

Content Warnings: Hate sex, physical violence, blood, abusive language, breeding, impact play. This is not a healthy relationship. Somewhat happy ending! 18+ ONLY.

via porunareff

Prosciutto was stone-faced while the two of you checked into the soddy hotel, located on the outskirts of a small town. You had just finished a mission with your partner and were hunkering down for the night before returning to Napoli. Prosciutto was curt with the front desk receptionist, taking the key and turning on his heel, expecting you to follow. You did begrudgingly. 

It was obvious why he was ignoring you--you had put yourself in danger during the mission to make sure that the two of you succeeded. Prosciutto’s Stand was strong, but not the best in hand-to-hand combat situations. You took it upon yourself to use your Stand to knock back the enemy. He tried to whisper to you a plan, but you didn’t listen. It was a 2 versus 4 fight, and by jumping in the middle and using your ability, you managed to knock out 3 by a sheer stroke of luck. Prosciutto was furious even after his fist collided with the face of the only remaining enemy. Even then, he didn’t raise his voice to you but called you, to quote him exactly, “The stupidest dumb shit I have ever met in my life.” You took his insult with a grain of salt. You had to control your temper, or he would be the one that you fought next. 

But now you were considering that grain of salt as the two of you silently boarded the elevator. The doors closed with a sliding sound, the apparatus taking you up several floors. Prosciutto still wasn’t looking at you or talking to you, standing with his hands folded behind his back. You had enough of this crap. “You’re still mad? Really?” you asked, turning to face him, hands on your hips. 

“You could have gotten yourself killed and jeopardized the mission. I had a plan,” he shot back, his words like a dart. 

“But I didn’t, and we’re fine.” 

“You’re missing the point.”

The elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open. Without missing a beat, Prosciutto and you exited and you came back with your rebuttal. “What point am I missing? We got the info Risotto told us to get and killed the bad guys. I don’t see a problem,” you argued, folding your arms. The both of you walked and talked, Prosciutto checking out the room numbers while also listening to your ridiculous excuse for an argument. 

“Your recklessness could have cost us dearly. You don’t understand the consequences of your actions.” He came to a sudden halt in front of a door, checking out the number a second time before swiping the keycard on the reader. The fact that he was being so casual about insulting you and your abilities tapped into your hidden temper, the temper that you tried to keep in control of. That control was slipping away, and you were glad that Prosciutto found the room because as soon as the door closed, you were on him like stink on shit. 

“It’s like you want us to fail. It doesn’t matter if something could have gone wrong, nothing went wrong! Get off your high horse and stop acting like you’re fucking perfect or something,” you shouted at him. You were almost nose-to-nose with him, puffing your chest out in anger. Your reasoning was irrational and you knew that, but the pent up anger from all the snarky remarks that Prosciutto has ever said to you consumed you at once, and you let him have it. His expression was neutral, but you could see behind his eyes were his patience was beginning to wear thin. 

“Stand down, y/n.” His tone was harsh, his nostrils flaring as he controlled his breathing. 

“I hate your fucking guts!” you shot back. Black spots consumed your vision and you lost control of your body. You swung, hard, and nailed Prosciutto dead in the nose. He exclaimed and staggered back only a bit before bouncing back, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, brows knitted tightly with anger. Blood was beginning to trickle from his nose now crooked nose.

You didn’t say anything, but wrenched one of your arms from his grasp and moved to hit him again. He anticipated you this time, catching your smaller fist in his larger one. He grabbed your wrists, restraining you and trying to lead you to the office chair nearby. “You’re being unreasonable,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. The black-clad man had a good hold on you, but your strength tested him. You made eye contact as you struggled, a few strands of hair dangling in your face. He maintained his smoldering gaze on you, shoving you down into the chair and holding your wrists to the arms of the chair. He leaned down, putting his weight on them, and stared you down. 

You felt some of the fires of wrath die down in you, only to ignite something else in the same vein. The same hazy, intense look crossed over Prosciutto’s face. Sucking in a breath, you took a leap of faith and crashed your lips against his. He made a startled noise but only took a few moments to respond. He didn’t release your hands, but kissed you back harder, tilting his head to the side. Even now, he wanted to tame you, wanted to show you that he was in charge as he slotted his mouth against yours. You huffed into the kiss, your tongue slipping in to mingle with his. Prosciutto was already on it, fighting you for control of the situation. He took his weight off of your wrists and hoisted you up, holding you close before shoving you on the bed. The reserved way he grabbed you initially was gone--he wasn’t scared to be rough with you now.

The realization of this dawned on you when Prosciutto climbed on top of you, pinning you to the mattress. He returned his lips to yours, groaning softly against your mouth while he grabbed for your clothes. His blood was starting to get everywhere, but you paid no mind to it. The gangster was passionate, yet methodical, something that you loved but hated about Prosciutto. At this thought, you shoved his jacket off of his shoulders, tossing it on the floor. He pulled back from the kiss to bitch at you for throwing his clothes, but you chased him, pressing your lips to his against before he could speak. It was sloppy, disorganized, very unlike Prosciutto in every way, but amazing. Your fingers worked the tight buns on the back of his head, pulling the ties off. His hair spilled down onto his shoulders gradually, all the while he was kissing you feverishly. He yanked off your pants with his own to follow, not pausing even for a moment. You loved the intensity, the heat, the way his body pressed into yours. He handled you with pure desire behind his touches even though his forehead crinkled in irritation from your incompetency. He ripped off your shirt, and you undid your bra before the garment could face his wrath. He began kissing down your sternum, nibbling you harshly as he did so. The sexual tension you felt was heightened by the frustration you felt. Even the pleasure he gave you pissed you off, it left you wanting more, and you roughly thrust your hips against him. He growled against your lower stomach and breathed over your sex through your panties. “Impatient brat,” he gritted, running his fingertip over your pussy. “Always so quick to jump the gun.” 

A frustrated sound came from your throat as he hovered over your panties. “Come on,” you encouraged, bucking your ups into his face. Prosciutto grumbled something to himself before ripping your panties off of your body, the dainty cloth reduced to shreds. You gasped in surprise at the sudden action but was quickly relieved as his tongue made contact with your clitoris. The burning feeling of need revved hot in your tummy as his tongue grazed over your clit. He had no reservations, because as soon as he adjusted to your taste, he dove in, lapping and licking your cunt for all that it’s worth. You squirmed under his mouth, the wetness between your thighs increasing with each swipe of Prosciutto’s tongue. Your flavor burst over his tongue and made his cock impossibly harder in his pants, almost to the point of being uncomfortable. The blond man quickly undid his trousers and wrestled them to about his mid-thigh, enough for his member to spring free. Prosciutto’s cock was flushed and standing at attention, ready to be dropped inside you. 

With this in mind, Prosciutto was ready to move on from toying with your pussy. Besides, you were beginning to become almost too squirmy, which pissed him off even more. “Hold still,” he rumbled out, rising to his feet and discarding the rest of his clothes. Your eyes widened as he removed the rest of his clothing; it was amazing to see his completely naked form. His lean body was riddled in faded scars, the jagged edges all telling their own stories. You watched his arms flex as he tossed aside one of his socks, eyes moving downwards from there.  Even with the distance, a shimmering bead of precum gathering on his swollen tip was visible to you. Your body thrummed with excitement, from the top of your head to the very tip of your toes, as Prosciutto approached you. His body was poised, his expression hazy and lustful but also vindictive. He stopped at the edge of the bed in front of you. You had already propped yourself up on your elbows at the point, intrigued by his sensuality. 

“You’re not going to be so rude as to not return the favor, are you?” Prosciutto said, his eyebrow cocked condescendingly at you. You couldn’t help but sneer before rising to his erect member bobbing in front of you. 

“Honestly, have a little bit more faith in me,” you said, rolling your eyes. You decided to suck his cock before his shitty attitude made you change your mind. The salty flavor of his precum was smeared across your lips as you mouthed the tip. Slowly, you took more of him, his girth stretching your lips the farther you went down his shaft. You breathed steadily through your nose, the smell of his musk strong the closer you drew to his pelvis. Prosciutto wasn’t overly vocal, but the breathy sounds he allowed himself to make were like music to your ears. When you took him in almost to the hilt and swallowed around his member, he made a strained noise, sweet and wanton. Impatience overtook him, because he reached down to grip your hair before thrusting into your mouth. The hitman was gentle at first but quickly became rougher with his actions. The blunt head of his cock hit the back of your throat in a brutish, steady rhythm. Tears began to prick the corners of your eyes as Prosciutto fucked your throat. A twisted part of him enjoyed seeing you gag and slobber on his dick after he had to deal with your obnoxiousness for so long. 

The thoughts swirling around in Prosciutto’s head made his dick twitch warningly in your throat. He quickly pulled you back by your hair, a rush of air hitting your lungs so speedily that it disoriented you. Vision still blurry from the tears, you felt his hands around you, pulling you up and onto the bed as if you were nothing more but a ragdoll. He pushed you onto your back, dragging your ankles up to his shoulders and rutting his meaty cock against your pussy. He rubbed against you for a while, the head of his cock catching on your clit several times, the stimulation amplified by your desire. It was beginning to make you crazy, so crazy that you grabbed the back of Prosciutto’s hair and shook him, pushing your hips down. You met his dark blue eyes and let out a whine at the predatory look that greeted you. He growled before angling himself downwards and thrusting inside you, most of his cock sinking into you with one stroke. A jolt went through your body as you stretched around him, the discomfort dissolving into pleasure as you adjusted to him. 

Prosciutto looked right into your eyes as he pushed you a little further, hilting inside of you. That’s what he always did--he pushed you. He pushed you when you wanted him to stop nagging you, he pushed you to do better during missions, and now he’s pushing your sexual limits. What you saw when you looked at him was a challenge. Your gaze communicated it all because Prosciutto gave you a little grunt as if to say, ‘I accept’. He started with a slow, rough pace, making a show of pulling most of the way out of you before snapping back in. It was agonizingly slow but wonderful; you tried to use your legs to keep him from pulling out, but his strength bested yours every time. He watched you carefully as you took him, his eyes moving back and forth between your face and his dick disappearing inside you. The bleeding from his nose had stopped for the most part, but a line of blood trailed down his face and neck. It fascinated you, you couldn’t take your eyes off of his skin.

Eventually, you found your voice. “S-Speed it up, I don’t have all day,” you managed to say. Your harsh words didn’t match the soft, kitten-like tone that you used. Prosciutto tsked you before pulling out completely. You were getting ready to bitch him out until he reached under you and flipped you onto your stomach. He pulled your hips up to meet his and sank back into you, any words you were going to say dying on your lips. Body pressed into the mattress, you braced yourself, your hands fisting in the sheets. Prosciutto panted next to your ear, holding himself up over you while his hips snapped into yours. His movements grew choppy but rough, and he drove his hips into yours over and over. “This what you want?” he rasped out, earning a moan from you. His sack was slapping lewdly against your ass now, heavy and warm. The smell rolling off of his body was intoxicating; it made you furious. “Wanted to get me all mad so I’d pound you into this mattress?” Whining, you nodded your head, sticking your ass up for him despite him driving you back down with his pelvis. “You fucking got it. Y-You almost got us killed, too,” he said, his voice less angry than it should have been. 

“T-This shit again?” Your irritation with him was almost tainting the amazing way he was filling you up. “Get over it.” 

This must have struck a chord in Prosciutto, because he moved to grab the back of your neck, pushing your head into the pillow. “Shut up.” His unimpressive comeback was lost to you while he hammered into you. Months and months of frustration, all sparking into a flame between you both, melting each other with your touches. Your pussy was so tight, so wet, begging for him to take out his frustration with you. Prosciutto huffed from the exertion, his orgasm nagging at his core. You were very close behind him, unable to take the searing heat building up inside you any longer. 

“P-Please...” you whimpered out, your voice still muffled. His thighs thundered against the backs of yours. This was accompanied by the sound of your sopping wet pussy, gushing over Prosciutto’s cock as the both of you drew closer to orgasm. But it wasn’t enough--you were right on the edge, about to cum, but there was something that you were missing. You attempted to buck your hips back against Prosciutto, hoping the extra force would be the last bit of pleasure you needed before it all came toppling down. The flurry of sexual frustration inside you manifested as you being enraged by Prosciutto; he talked big but wasn’t fucking you hard enough, wasn’t putting his dick right where it needed to be inside you to make you see stars. 

“Please what?” The blond gangster taunted in your ear.

“Please... Do something right for once and make me cum,” you gritted out, craning your neck to look behind you. 

The look on Prosciutto’s face was a cross between absolutely furious and incredibly turned on. His eyes were stormy as he looked at you, holding a promise inside them. He choppily halted his pace to move you onto your side, disregarding your hands scrambling to find purchase on his strong arms. He spread your legs roughly, almost forcefully, before burying himself inside you again. Prosciutto stroked your cheek thoughtfully for a moment before landing a smack on your face. You knew that he could hit you harder, but a moan toppled out of your mouth anyhow and sent a shock of electricity down to your cunt. He leaned down close to your face, his gaze now mischievous as he thrust his hips into yours. “Do something right for once? Why don’t you do something right for once and take every fucking drop my seed I give you,” he huffed, his breath tickling your face. With a few more deep thrusts and another smack to your face, you came with a choked cry. Prosciutto’s lower stomach was sticky with how much slick you made, but it only served to make him more aroused. He followed you as faithfully as he does during a battle, cumming inside you. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, his mouth agape as he emptied himself within your warm walls. He rutted into you as he did, his instincts telling him to bury his spunk as far inside as he’s able to. He’s finally claiming you, taking you down a peg and showing you your place. 

All of the moxie you felt from earlier was drained from your body as his cum spilled from you. After Prosciutto regained his breath, he pulled out and collapsed at your side with a sigh coming deep from his chest. You weren’t exactly in a good state to find something to clean yourself with, so after you caught your breath, you nudged him in the side. “Towel, please,” you requested airily, your gaze unfocused from the lack of energy. 

Prosciutto furrowed his brow at you and looked as if he were about to say something venomous. Whatever he wanted to say, he dismissed, because after a moment he was hoisting himself to his feet. He disappeared from your field of vision and into the bathroom and you were left to your thoughts for a moment. Post-orgasm clarity was hitting you pretty strong, and you felt regret for attacking him earlier. Even if he was still genuinely pissed at you, you wanted to apologize. When he returned, his face and pelvis were clean. He handed a clean towel to you wordlessly and found his trousers laying on the ground. He fished his cigarettes from his pocket and laid next to you. Pulling the ashtray closer to him on the nightstand, he lit one and inhaled. You crinkled your nose at the smoke. His habit disgusted you and you were always verbal about it. Prosciutto caught sight of your grimace and snickered at you. “Something bothering you?” 

“You know what’s bothering me,” you said while toweling yourself off. 

After another drag or two, Prosciutto put it out as if he actually considered your feelings. You narrowed your eyes before bringing them back up to look at him. “I’m sorry for trying to beat you up earlier,” you said, your tone sheepish. Prosciutto raised his brows, surprised that you would be moved to an apology. He looked as if he didn’t know how to take it for a moment before responding. 

“It’s fine. You’re lucky you didn’t fuck up my nose too badly.” 

You could feel yourself becoming defensive, so you were quiet and put aside your pride. Picking your battles is a skill you knew that you still needed to learn. You dropped the towel beside the bed and drew closer to Prosciutto, who was laying quite far from you. Snuggling into his side, you draped your arm over his middle and made yourself comfortable. He made a soft noise of indignation before accepting your embrace. He wrapped an arm around you, holding you close to his bare chest. A fluttering heartbeat could be heard as you pressed your ear against him. While you both laid in silence, your mind wandered. Without a shadow of a doubt, you knew you’d have to omit this part of the mission from the report Risotto was bound to ask you for in the morning.

the silly story of grant being over everyone (rawlins) trying to mother hen him but sherman being like “yeah but i can annoy you enough to let me help you out” .........enjoy?

The Mississippi sun was sweltering. Sherman took off his hat, wiping the sweat from his forehead that had been building up throughout his ride. Whoever decided on the dark blue uniforms they had to wear didn’t seem to account for the strong summer sun that they were all suffering through.

They were 20 days into this siege around Vicksburg and he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it was exhausting. They had tried to attack the fortifications twice but each time they were repulsed. It cut deeply at him that they couldn’t breakthrough. It irked him even more that there were rumors that McClernard tried to take credit for some kind of breakthrough down on his portion of the ground. He’d string up the politician if he could, but he knew better. 

The man was still a snake as far as Sherman was concerned. 

A group of tents appeared over the small ridge his horse trotted up, soldiers and orderlies walking by him or saluting. Grant’s camp was always busy. One of the perks of being a corps commander was not having to deal with all the extra nonsense. Between the reporters, Washington, and all the other nuisances, he didn’t know how it all didn’t drive the younger general crazy.

Then again, this was Grant he was talking about. An artillery shell could explode next to him and the man wasn’t phased. 

An orderly came up and grabbed the reins of Sherman’s horse, who climbed off and pulled a cigar from his breast pocket. He worked lighting the cigar as he glanced around. The familiar head of brown hair wasn’t too hard to spot for when he was looking for Rawlins. Where Rawlins was, Grant wasn’t usually far behind. The men were almost attached at the hip. 

Yet he heard nothing from Grant’s tent, didn’t even hear the familiar string of curses that seemed to follow Rawlins as he paced around. He turned around, puffing on his cigar, and spotted a small group standing around a table. And he recognized one of them

Comstock. Perfect.

“Comstock!” Sherman started over to the group, the younger man turning to him. A hint of annoyance flashed on his face which made Sherman smirk. The guy was new but he was all business. It was something he appreciated. 

“General Sherman, what can I help you with?” 

“I was looking for General Grant...or Rawlins, either of them really.”

“They’re just finishing up looking over some of the fortifications over at McPherson’s front, we actually just arrived back there a short while ago,” Comstock shrugged, “I would expect them back any minute.”

“They still working on those mines?”

“Yes sir,” the young man smirked, an eyebrow raised, “General Grant is working on making sure that Captain Hickenlooper doesn’t get himself blown up on the process.”

A cloud of dust and hooves pounding against the dirt road caught his and Comstock’s attention. Sherman chewed on his cigar as he watched a group of cavalry officers slow down and trot into camp. He couldn’t help the smile that crept on his lips as he watched Grant ride up behind them, Rawlins right beside him. And the younger man didn’t seem to be pleased. 

As he walked closer to the pair, he watched Grant graceful unmount his horse with ease. Rawlins, in his excited state, had a bit more trouble, his boots landing on the ground with a bit more force than needed. 

It wasn’t hard hearing their one-sided conversation. “Sir you can’t just…be that close to the line! You’ve been doing i-”

Grant turned his head and fixed Rawlins with a hard stare, “I know where and where not to be on the line, John.”

Rawlins tensed up, his face flushing, but his eye caught Sherman as he approached. He deflated, “Of course sir.”

“Go down to McClernard’s line and see if Wilson has any updates,” Grant ordered, passing the reins to a waiting orderly, “bring him back up here. He doesn’t need to be down there the entire day.”

Rawlins stared at Grant for a long moment, his jaw tense, before he reluctantly nodded, “Yes sir.”

Sherman hung back, fidgeting around with his cigar. Rawlins shot one last look at Grant, then Sherman briefly, before he climbed back on his horse. He knew better than to step in between those two when there was something going on. Being on the other end of John Rawlins’ wrath was a place he didn’t like to be in. 

Grant turned, a startled look in his eyes before he schooled his expression, “Sherman...have you been here long?”

“No, I just arrived before you got here,” Sherman waved his hand, wafting the smoke from his face, “If I knew you had been gone…”

“It’s fine. Let’s get out of this sun.”

Walking together to his tent, Sherman was quick to notice the younger man’s face pinch slightly. There was also a small scratch on his cheek, a little swipe of blood staining it. He brushed off the concern. It wasn’t as if it could kill him.  

“McPherson’s still working on that mine...,” Grant advised, passing through the tent opening and into the shaded area, “I haven’t set a date yet...they’re still working on how far they can dig toward the rebels line.”

“Would it just be in one area?”

“Yes, but I think we’ll have artillery going on along your and McClernard’s fronts at the same time.” The commanding general took off his hat, that pinched expression flashing on his face again. Sherman noted that he placed the hat rather gingerly down on the table. 

He raised an eyebrow at that, pulling the cigar from his mouth. “How was Mac’s line? Anything pestering him down there?”

“No...just sharpshooters, per usual.”

Grant sunk into his chair, lightly cradling his right wrist. It was a subtle motion but having been around him for so long, Sherman was able to pick it up. The Rawlins argument clicked in his head. 

“You didn’t happen to...by chance...get shot at by one of these sharpshooters did you?”

The glare Grant’s blue eyes leveled at him would have thrown off anyone else. Hell, the first time he had gotten it, it had thrown him off. It wasn’t a look that Sherman often saw except for when Grant was reaching his tipping point. And the tipping point was not somewhere he normally wanted to be. 

But he was never one to back down from a challenge, “You’re too valuable to be in that kind of dan-”

“I know what I am General.”

Oh boy. Well. This wasn’t going well. 

“I know you know sir.”

Grant bristled up on his chair, unconsciously rubbing his wrist, “Then there is no need to talk about it.”

A wave of annoyance washed over him. Grant had told him to be careful just over a week ago and now he didn’t want to take the same advice? Sherman took in Grant’s appearance, looking beyond the cradled wrist and scratched face. His hands had white bandages wrapped around them. The circles under his eyes seemed darker as well. Was he taking care of himself? It seemed beyond Sherman that Rawlins, who practically watched every move the general made, would let that happen. 

But then Rawlins’ frustrated face came to his mind. The curt reply, the ease in which he seemed to give up his fight with Grant. Maybe he had been trying to take care of Grant and the man just wasn’t letting him do it. He was stubborn as a mule at times. 

It was something he was sure that Ellen could relate to when it came to dealing with him.

“With all due respect....sir,” Sherman pressed, taking a step forward, “I hate to be so blunt but you look like absolute shit.”

The two generals stared at each other, the silence growing tense. Maybe he overstepped his bounds. Grant was still his superior officer, even though they were close. But dammit he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. They couldn’t have Grant acting like this. He was the rock of this army. And if something were to happen, McClernard would be the highest-ranking out of the three corps commanders and Sherman would rather roll over dead than take orders from that weasel.

A light laugh broke up his spiraling thoughts. Grant’s stern expression was gone, his shoulders slumping back into the chair, “I can’t argue with that…”

Sherman perked up, “I mean you could…”

“Would you like me to?”

The redhead shrugged, “It’s up to you, sir.”

Grant rolled his eyes, “You can be exhausting.”

“But that’s why you love me,” he stated matter of factly, walking over to the table. He grabbed the opposite chair and sat back in it, grinning more with Grant’s second eye roll.

“Don’t push your luck.”

They both laughed, Sherman’s overpowering Grant’s. This was more like it. The younger man seemed more at ease now, flexing his fingers ever so often. That small wall he seemed to always have up was lowered a bit. Sherman took small pride in that. Grant was a hard man to read, even for him. But there were times that he could see through...and see someone who was as stressed and tired as he was.

“Rawlins...he means well. And I appreciate that. But he can be…,” Grant paused, waving his hand absentmindedly. 

“Overbearing? Like a mother hen?”

“Do you say those things behind his back?” the younger general asked with a raised eyebrow. Sherman shrugged again, “I just say what I see.”

Grant chuckled softly, resting his arm on the table. “We were down along the lines...there was more activity than I think he liked. A few shots went off close to us and he just...tackled me to the ground.”

Sherman stared at him for a long moment, processing. “He...tackled you to the ground?”

The commanding general nodded.

He snorted, covering his mouth to muffle his laughter. The image was almost too comical. 

“He meant well, but I don’t need my chief of staff throwing me to the ground and sitting on top of me.”

Sherman snorted again, leaning forward and hiding his face. He wouldn’t mind being on top of Grant. 

Wait. 

No. 

Brush that thought away immediately. 

Calming himself, were his cheeks flushed?, he sat back up and looked over at Grant. The younger man was looking at him expectantly, a hint of a smile on his lips. 

“I assume,” Sherman remarked, tapping his hand on the table near Grant’s arm, “That’s how your arm or wrist started to bother you?”

The general drummed his fingers lightly on the desk, the small pinch back on his face briefly. He would take that as a yes.

“I fell on it awkwardly...scratched my palms a bit,” he moved his hand, the bandages shifting, “Rawlins tried to make up for it, but I didn’t mention my wrist.”

“Why not?”

“He’d have probably thrown me in an ambulance cart and I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

“True,” Sherman nodded, turning in the chair. He held out his hand across the table, “You should probably get it looked at though.”

Grant tilted his head slightly, “By you?”

“Well if you don’t want Rawlins to find out.”

Grant pulled up his coat and shirt sleeve up to his elbow. The bandages around his hand were haphazard at best and Sherman got to work unwrapping them first. The cuts couldn’t be that bad. He placed the bandages to the side and gently tugged Grant’s hand closer to him, looking over the palm and up to the wrist. There were hints of black and blue already forming around the area. 

“Well, you definitely hurt it.”

“Next thing you’ll tell me the sky is blue.”

Sherman huffed, turning his wrist gently over in his hand, “I am older, so I do happen to be wiser.”

Grant hummed, carefully flexing his fingers. That was good at least. Maybe it was just bruising, a possible sprain. 

“I can make you a splint, so you can at least keep it from getting worse,” he reassured, “I don’t think it’s hurt too much, more of a nuisance than anything else.”

Sherman got up, busying himself with looking around the tent for supplies. Bandages, check. Something that looked like a split, sure. He tried to think what else he would need, thought back to when he was younger, and would...accidentally fall out of a tree or do something else dumb to hurt himself. Most times Ellen or John were there, scolding him. The memory made him chuckle.

It took him a moment to realize that Grant had all this stuff at the ready, lying around his tent. Why visit the medical area when all of it is available at your fingertips? He glanced back quickly at the other man, who had his eyes closed and seemed to be sinking down lower in his chair. 

When was the last time he got some proper sleep?

“You’re in luck, for I happen to be a master at this sort of thing,” Sherman proclaimed, sitting back down at the table. Grant blinked, a little groggy at first before his gaze fell back on the other man. 

“Should I be surprised?”

“A bit more grateful perhaps,” he unraveled some of the bandages, working to find one of the right lengths, “I am helping you from feeling the wrath of your chief of staff.”

Grant outstretched his hand again and stayed silent as Sherman wrapped the bandages around his palm and then his wrist. The trick was making it tight enough to keep anything from moving but not making it uncomfortable or bothersome. John had wrapped his ankle once and it lasted all of five seconds before Sherman tore the thing off because it was too tight.

His leg bounced up and down at he worked. The silence was killing him. Grant had a tendency to just sit quietly, sometimes for long periods of time, which Sherman just couldn’t comprehend. How did his mind not race with every outcome that could happen at their next turn? He couldn’t understand it, the sheer idea of being with his own thoughts scared him half to death at times. It’s one of the reasons he never shut up. 

“Was there a reason you came by today?”

Sherman glanced up from the splint, “I’m sorry?”

“You obviously came to my headquarters to talk about something,” Grant stated matter of factly, his eyebrow risen slightly, “Was there a specific thing that you needed to speak with me about?”

His hands paused, slightly stunned from the question. Why had he come to headquarters?

Nothing sprung to mind. Shit. 

“I just wanted to come and check-in with how things were,” he replied nonchalantly, working to keep the splint in place, “I thought it would be better to discuss it in person.”

No reply came from the younger general and Sherman focused back on his work. It wasn’t technically a lie, a bit of a half-truth really. He had been getting updates through courier messages the past week which was fine. But even though their bases weren’t that far away, he hadn’t seen Grant in much of that time. 

It’s not like it bothered him.

That would be ridiculous. 

He pulled the end of the cloth through the knot, finishing off the work. “That should do it. Doesn’t look too bad if I do say so myself.”

Grant flexed his fingers, eyeing up the bandages. “Don’t flatter yourself too much,” he replied dully, working to suppress a smirk, “Thank you. I do appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Sherman dug into his breast pocket, pulling out two cigars. He offered one to Grant, who happily accepted. The smoked filtered through the air, the calming feeling slowly coming over him. There were few things that matched up to a good southern cigar. Those assholes were good for at least this one thing.

Grant blew out the smoke carefully, fiddling with the cigar. “There was something I wanted to discuss with you.”

Sherman perked up at that, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair, “What about?”

“Joe Johnston is still out by Jackson somewhere...we’ve gotten a few reports that he’s gathering up more soldiers,” he paused, tilting his head toward Sherman, “Halleck is sending the IX corps to help support the siege. I was planning on sending them to guard the Big Black River, so we have a force between ourselves and him. And I was thinking that you,” he tapped his fingers on the table for emphasis, “would take over that core and keep an eye on him.”

Silence hung in the room, the two men staring at each other. Sherman had to fight back the disappointment. He was being sent off again? “When are they expected?”

“Halleck said to expect them in the next week or so...depends on the rails, weather…” Grant trailed off, pulling the cigar from his mouth, “I know you would be able to handle them. They’re from the east, it’s a bit different out here. And I know you can keep Johnston busy if he does try anything.”

He knew he should take the compliments in stride. Grant was putting his faith in him, knew that Sherman could complete the task. But that didn’t stop the dread he felt. He wanted to be here when the city fell, not back at the Big Black River. He wanted to ride in at Grant’s side when they took Vicksburg, to prove those damn newspapers and critics wrong. Here he was, the supposed “insane” man riding in victorious, taking the Gibraltar of the Confederacy.  

It was selfish. But dammit couldn’t he be selfish?

Grant tossed the butt of his cigar onto the ground, crushing it with the heel of his boot. “It wouldn’t be for another week. We’ll have time to go over plans of how to keep him back. Pemberton can’t stay cooped up in that city for much longer...we just have to outlast him.” 

Sherman nodded, working the cigar in his mouth. He would do it, but dammit he wouldn’t be happy about it. Not that he would let Grant know that. 

They sat in silence, the smoke from his cigar coming out faster. He chewed at the end, grinding his teeth to mask the disappointment. 

Rising from his chair, Grant carefully rolled down his blouse sleeve then coat sleeve to cover the splint. Sherman caught a little hint of red on the palm. Maybe he should have taken a closer look at those scratches. 

“Thank you for help with the splint, you didn’t need to,” Grant glanced up at him, shoving his good hand into his pocket, “I know that you can keep Johnston back. I wouldn’t have asked anyone else.”

“Of course,” he tossed his cigar to the side and rose up, hands resting on his hips, “The man didn’t put up much a fight when we took Jackson. I don’t expect we’ll see much more from whatever he’s trying to plan back there.”

“It’s best just to be alert.”

“Are you that worried about him?” Sherman asked, slightly surprised. 

Grant frowned, as if the question bothered him, “I just want to be prepared. We can’t have any surprises. Now when we’re right at their door.”

The scourge of reporters that filtered around camp popped in Sherman’s mind. Not only them but that little spy Charles Dana. They all knew what he was here for, though it was never said out loud. One false move from Grant could send Dana running to the telegram and sending God knows what back to Washington. 

Snakes, all of them really. He’d like to throw them and McClernard into the river. See how they dealt with that.

Grant took his hand from his pocket, gently rubbing his eyes, “Sieges just take time…,” he paused, catching himself mid-yawn. He ran his hand through his hair a few times, tugging on the ends. An odd tick that Sherman noticed when he tried to keep himself alert, “You have to account for everything.”

The drowsy expression that came over the younger man’s face almost made Sherman laugh. With his hair a bit messed up, Grant looked pretty cute. 

Stop. 

Not this again.

“Have you accounted for maybe taking a nap?” Sherman asked, pushing his thoughts to the farthest corners of his mind. 

“Now you do sound like Rawlins,” Grant muttered, the frown looking more like a pout. 

“I could start cursing, really bring that energy.”

“Funny,” Grant waved him off and walk to the other side of the tent, looking over some papers left on a different desk, “I have other things to do…being commander of an army doesn’t really allow for naps.”

There was that stubbornness again. It was almost like trying to argue with a wall. And Sherman had tried it a few times, much to his own dismay. 

But what the hell. Grant looked like he was five steps away from falling face-first into the ground. Better to force a nap on him than have all those reporters think he was drunk.

He would make heads roll the moment he saw them trying to scratch that ridiculous story in their dumb little journals. 

Sherman followed him across the room, Grant’s gaze down on a worn-out letter. There was a handful of papers like it down on the desk, strewn around in a somewhat disorganized manner. 

“Why don’t you have Rawlins or Wilson go through these while you try to take a nap?” Sherman asked, taking a few papers in his hand, “I’m sure they can take care of something this small.”

Blue eyes flickered up to him, eyebrows pinched together, “Rawlins and Wilson aren’t currently here. And I can take care of my personal mail.”

Personal mail…shit.

The letters found their way gently back to the desk, Sherman recalculating his strategy. “I’m sure Mrs. Grant would feel better knowing that you were getting enough sleep during the day.”

Now Grant looked annoyed, his focus squarely on Sherman, “Mrs. Grant knows that her husband is a very busy man and can only get so much sleep. And it’s perfectly fine with her.”

“Is it?”

His eye twitched and Sherman held up his hands, knowing when he was defeated, “Fine. Fine, sorry I asked.”

Grant brushed the letters over with his bad hand, stacking them in a somewhat neat pile. He sighed, his fingers tapping the desk lightly. His mouth was pulled down into a frown, his eyes passing between the letters and the canvas of the tent off to the side. 

Sherman hung back, watching him. He’d pushed his luck. Should have known better honestly. But Grant needed to hear it from someone other than Rawlins. Overbearing as the younger man was, he did always have the commanding general’s health in mind. 

“I’ll…find some time to sleep a little more today,” the young general muttered, “There are things I have to do first.”

Score one for being annoyingly persistent. Sherman kept his face schooled, nodding, “Of course.”

“I’m sure you have better things to do than hang around here.”

He knew when he overstayed his welcome. “Just let me know if that splint comes undone…I can make a house call.”

Grant scoffed, shaking his head, “I’m sure.”

Sherman gave a playful salute and turned, grabbing his hat from the other table. There a small pep in his step, though he tried not to show it. Sherman – 2, Rawlins – 0. He’d have to tease the young chief of staff about it later. 

“Sherman.”

He stopped mid-step, turning back to Grant. 

The other man stared at him for a moment, silent as he could usually be. There was a bit of softness in the normally stern blue eyes, a faint smile on his lips. “Thank you.”

Sherman stood up a bit straighter, a bit of pride swelling up in him. He played it cool, nodding to the general and placed the hat on his head. Before he could say anything ridiculous, which he was bound to do, he passed through the flaps of the tent into the sweltering Mississippi air.

He added another victory into his already growing pile. Rawlins wouldn’t know what hit him. 

Helen regretted arriving to new york city much earlier than her family. She arrived to see a stream of aliens coming through a big portal in the sky. She had to act fast. She should’ve run. Should’ve stayed in a cafe or something, but she did something highly impulsive. She fought.

She quickly found a broken pipe in the alleyway and started hitting at the aliens. The aliens started shooting bolts of light at her and she adapted by finding a broken off car door. She was surprised that it blocked most of the shots. She found herself protecting the stay victims and escorting people to nearby bulidings or outreach refugee camps.

Blood sprayed on her face while she stabbed a alien in the head with the sharp pipe. She didn’t notice the wound on her left side, and didn’t complain about the scratches and bruises on her legs. She just wanted it to end. She hoped her family is not here, even if they didn’t care about her. She then decided to head to the stark tower, maybe the aliens held hostages in there.

----

She found herself going up to the top floor after realizing that no one is being held hostage on the lobby floor.

---

The elevator door opened and she saw a man with raven black hair. Wearing a royal overcoat adorend with gold trimmings and fabric. He held a glowing scepter.

‘Shit did i just find the villian?!’ she thought to herself.

“And who might you be.” He smirked.

She carefully stepped out of the elevator. Trying to identify or at least avoid his attacks. Surviving multiple aliens seemed hard, but this encounter would be even harder.

“I-I thought people would be taken hostage in this tower- I think I thought wrong. Wait-” she looked at the crescent shaped charm on his chest.

“A-are you a god?” She asked. The symbol looked very similar to the symbol in her norse mythology storybook. The storybook that she read over and over again.

“Oh, so you know your place. You realize who I really am, your god.” He spoke to her.

“Y-are you- Loki?” She abandoned all feelings of fear and terror. Those feelings were replaced with feelings of childlike curiosity.

“Yes, how does a mere mortal know about my name?” He was curious too. He thought that mortals only knew about their own realm.

“Uh- apparently people from the past worshipped you, and Thor and Odin and others, they’re called Norse. And I guess they wrote stories about you! Stories that I read a lot. And, yeah, I know this is a really weird thing to say to someone who is invading your planet but- I- you’re my favorite god.” She looked away.

‘Thats my last words. I literally called my killer my favorite and I’m going to die. Great.’ She thought to herself.

Loki put down his scepter. He wanted to entertain this small, puny mortal. A mortal that didn’t seem to fear him.

“Come child.” He guided her to the bar.

—

“So, what do they say about me?” He asked her.

“Well… They said that you can shapeshift and that you had a baby with a horse.” She giggled. The god wrinkled the bridge of his nose.

“God, the way you mortals create stories are weird and highly inaccurate. I only raised a baby horse, not gave birth to it.” He clarified, leaning the scepter against the bar.

“I mean, you were not portrayed as wholly evil or wholly good, since mischeif is neutral in morality. Which means you’re not a villain. Right? She asked

“That’s where you’re wrong. My brother is a hero and I am the villain. A villain who is not even asguaridan.” He told her.

“Y-you’re also compared to your brother?” She asked shyly

“Yes, all the time.” He huffed

“Well, you’re in the same boat, my brother, Finn. He’s older, cuter, a golden child and good at everything. Meanwhile, you have me… Messy, uncoordinated and decided to fight instead of run away like anyone else.” She said.

“Fighting is a more noble pursuit than running.” he told her, but he noticed that she was bleeding on her side.

“Oh dear, that’s not a nice sight.” He carefully laid her down on the couch.

“W-what?” She was getting faint, she didn’t notice that she was bleeding out. Loki summoned a rag and started using his healing magic. But he had limited knowledge.

“Stay with me dear, once you wake up, we will rule together, besides, two monsters should shine in the sunlight.” He assured the sleeping child.

---

The girl woke up to see a group of heroes circling Loki. She stood up but her wound thobbed.

“Ah!” She dobled over. Clutching her side. A man dressed in blue and red came over to her.

“Did he hold you hostage?” He asked.

“No- I- he healed me.” She said grogilly. She didn’t realize that it was all over.

“Dear, you should’nt move as much.” Loki called to her. The blue hero looked confused.

“Ah- where is he going?” She asked.

“Back to asgard.” The blonde hero said.

“Are you Thor then?” She asked. Staggering once she stood up.

“Yes” He smiled lightly, probably trying to calm down the shaking child.

“Your age?” The blue hero said.

“11.” She meekly said.

“You hurt a child!” Thor shouted at Loki.

“No! He actually took care of me! We- had a conversation!” She shouted in protest.

“He hypnotized you.” The blue hero tried to get the situation straight.

“I WOULD NEVER! NOT A CHILD!” Loki shouted. Thor only put a mechanical gag on loki.

“I-i”

“Lets get you down, alright?” The blue hero gave a comforting smile.

She found herself stuffed in a small elevator with a bunch of heroes and a villain. She was slightly shaking from the excess adrenaline and the pain from the wound. Loki kept glancing at her, worried that she might faint from the blood.

“Sooo…. What is your name kid?” The man in the iron suit asked.

“Helen. Helen Conrad.” She told him.

“Well, lets lighten up! Lets all introduce ourselves. I’ll start off. My name is Tony stark! Real names only!”

“I am Steve Rodgers.” The blue hero smiled.

“Natasha Romanov.”

“Clint Barton.”

“Thor Odinson”

She smiled brightly. “Thank you for introducing yourselves!”

----

She found herself in the lobby, witnessing the fight over a glowing blue cube.

‘Why are they so obsessed with that cube?’ she asked herself.

--

“Your parents haven’t shown up.” Thor pointed out as they sat ontop of the car.

“Not surprised, probably busy with my brother.” She leaned back. Probably thinking that she’d just settle back into her normal life.

“What if you came with me. To Asgard.” He asked her.

She turned to him. “Y-you’d really bring me?” She asked.

“If your parents are as neglectful as they are, then I should probably just bring you to a better place. Your skills will be better cultivated on Asgard than with your parents.” He said.

“Also, you’ve made a profound impact on my brother, Loki. So would you be kind to come on behalf of him? He doesn’t show it but he’d like you to come too.” he asked.

“D-definately! Definitely!” She shouted. Jumping up and down.

“I-i- d-definately- w-wait. Give me a s-second.” She was getting too excited that her stuttering became apparent. She took a deep breath.

She gave a curt, “Yes. yes I would like to go.” She smiled. Thor grinned.

“You would definately love the palace.”

---

Loki and Thor held on to the container with the tesseract and Helen stood behind the container.

“Are you sure we should let a child go to a different realm with two gods, and one of them tried to invade our planet.” Steve asked Tony.

“I’m sure Thor would keep her safe, besides, we might have to hold her in the tower when she comes back.” Tony repled.

“Why?” Steve asked.

“I’m pretty skeptical about the fact that a child was able to battle her way into my tower and talk down the god of lies without getting killed in the process.” He remarked.

---

Helen was beamed in the entrance of the rainbow bridge. She walked with the two gods. One in chains and one with the hammer. She looked at the view of Asgard. It looked grander than she’d imagine. The golden towers were glistening in the sunlight. The rainbow bridge was translucent but had rainbow like branches pulsing through the bridge. She seemed scared to cross the bridge at first. Having a slight fear of heights. But Thor grabbed on to her hand and gave her comforting look.

Loki looked on, wishing he could do the same. But glad that his brother did it in his place.

---

Helen was being addressed by the king of Asgard. Odin.

“You have the heart of a heroine and the capacity to empathize with even the toughest of villains. Tell me, child. What is your name?” He asked her.

“He-he-Helen.” She stuttered. Cursing herself for stuttering in front of the king.

“Conrad.”

“Conraddotar?” Odin clarified

“You can call me that.” she said.

“Enjoy yourself at the palace, you are now considered royalty for extending your kindness to my son, Loki.” Odin said.

---

Helen wore a simple green gown. She was happily skipping around and exploring the palace.

“Helen, dear, can you come to me?” A voice sounded in the hallway.

She turned to see Queen Frigga.

“Let’s fix yout hair, shall we?”

--

Helen was sitting on Frigga’s bed while Frigga was braiding her hair.

“Thank you for everything that you’ve done. Tell me, Helen, what is your family like?” She asked.

“Well, I have a brother, and two parents. But my parents lives revolve around my brother. But- Im ok with that. I do things by myself and I got used to it.” She said.

“Ah- im sorry my dear. But here, there are servants and maids that can help you. So relax. I know how traumatic the invasion was, so I hope you realze that you are safe.

----

Helen was sitting on the steps, looking at Loki in his cell. She noticed that he has a lot of furniture in his cell. He was reading a book, and she was scribbling something in her notebook.

“Mind telling me what you’re writing down, dear?” He asked, thumbing through the pages.

“Uh-I-I’m actually d-drawing.” She said. Trying not to stutter.

“What are you drawing?” He asked.

“You.” She meekly said. Loki put the book on the table and walked towards Helen, he sat down in front of her.

“Mind showing me?” He smiled lightly.

She tore the page out and she showed it to him. It was loki and helen, under a flower tree. He was reading a spell out of the spell book.

“That looks adorable. When I escape, will you hand it to me?” He smiled.

“Of course.”

—-

“Do you like the accommodations in the palace?” Loki asked, hoping that they are taking care of her.

“Yes, but I wish I can enjoy them with you.” She answered. Twiddling her thumbs.

“So I decided to sit at your cell and talk to you!” She grinned. Loki’s heart melted. He’d never knew that he’d meet someone who was so naive and childlike. Enough to paint him as a positive figure. But he didn’t care. He just felt a sense of kindness towards her. He feels fond of her. He never realized that he was fawning over a mortal. Who’s life can flash before his eyes.

“That is great child.” He said.

“Wish I had my chello here, could’ve played you a tune.” She said. Loki used some of his magic to steal away a chello from the music room and teleported it here.

“Then play me a tune then.” He smiled

—

Loki was spellbound by the tune, she played a song that a mortal composed. But he didn’t know that the mortal is a master at music composition. Apparently the song was Blue Danube, by Johan Strauss. He swayed to the melody. By the time Helen was done he asked her a dozen questions.

--

“How long have you played?”

“5 years. Started at a young age, when my parents believed in my talents.” she told me.

“They should’ve known how bright you’ve shined.”

“Don’t blame them. They stop trying after finding out about my stutter.” She said.

“Your parent’s arent even parents.” I told her.

“I realized that when I hit 9.” she replied.

“Then maybe you should have a different father. Someone who adores you, who encourages you to be as different and unique as possible, who doesn’t compare you to anyone, who empathizes with you. Someone- someone like me.” He slowed his rant. Realizing something.

“D-do you want me to be your father?” He asked. Taking a big risk, being vulnerable .

“I-i-i’d lo-love yo-you to!” She was a stuttering mess, her brain was trying to process the proposal.

“Dear, slow down, take a big breath.” He grinned

“I would like for you to be my dad.” she slowly said. Tears coming out of her eyes.

“I would whipe those tears from your eyes but I’m stuck in this wretched cell.” He chuckled.

“I want to hug you.” She sniffled.

“You’ll get the chance.”

---

Everything was broken, damaged. But Helen rushed towards Loki’s cell. She just got word of Frigga’s death. And she didn’t want to lose her new father. She saw Loki in his cell, seeming to be fine. But she just broke out in sobs.

Her breathing was ragged. Tears flow through her eyes, and she was sniffling. She collapsed to the ground. Choking and crying. Crying for him, Loki. Feeling too much of his pain. Loki put down his defenses.

He had a green shirt but his hair was matted, her crawled to the crying child and wanted to reach out to her, but the barrier kept him from touching her.

“H-hey. Don’t cry-”

“You’re depressed so I’m depressed! I don’t want this to happen, for you to be sad! I-its my fault! I’m sorry. I-I. i’m- s-s-sorry. Mr. Loki! I-i have no-no right to be you-your daughter!” She was stuttering, trying to calm herself down. But the stale air and the buzzing barrier, it was hard to.

“No, don’t say that, you’re my daughter through and through. None of this was your fault. None of it. Please, stop crying for me.” He guided her to a deep breath.

“S-sorry.” she apologized for her shrill crying

“Don’t be sorry.” He smiled.

---

Helen gave Loki a big hug when Thor freed him from the cell. Loki returned the hug while threading his fingers through her braided hair.

“Darling, I have to help Thor. But I will come back.” he told her.

“A-are you sure?” She asked.

“One way or another. Yes.”

--

When Helen found out about Loki’s demise, she locked herself in the room and cried. She sobbed, blaming herself for letting him go alone. Hating herself. A knock sounded at the door. The door opened and she saw Odin.

“S-sorry if my cries are too loud.” she whipped her tears.

“It’s alright my child.” Odin sat at her beside.

“I-Lost my dad.” She stuttered.

“He said he’d come back-”

“One way or another.” Odin’s illusion was dispelled by Loki. He smiled kindly at her.

“I am sorry for causing you unnecessary pain. But I had to keep up the illusion for my safety.” He whipped her tears with his thumb. And enveloped her in a crushing hug.

“But now we can rule together. My little princess.” He smiled.

Burn It Down 2- Before The Flames [Ivar x Reader]

A.N.: Oh my God, my loves! Your comments, messages and 400 something notes on the first one made me feel so happy and inspired, I can’t thank you enough! I love you guys so much! <3

Summary: Trust cannot be earned with threats.

Characters: Ivar x Reader, Ubbe, Bjorn, Hvitserk.

Warnings: Explicit language and depictions of violence.

Word Count: 1415

The road back to Ivar’s camp was silent. They’d had you mount on a horse before they you’re your hands and covered your mouth, as if making you silent could protect any of them from the curses they feared you could cast on them.

Only you knew how to protect them from your curses, and you were not willing to share that information, not anytime soon at least.

Besides, you had to admit, their fear gave you a sense of excitement.

You could still smell the blood washing the streets and the smoke rising from the city, burning your nostrils and your lungs but you refused to let that affect you.

Destruction had its strange beauty, tragic and sad, but still beautiful.

The camp side was not so far away, at least not on horse, and soon enough you reached there, the tents, the fire and the food welcoming your weary self and you looked around. Ivar got out of his chariot and Ubbe and Hvitserk jumped down from their horses, speaking in their mother tongue which sounded very foreign to you as the woman- Torvi, you had heard her name on the road- walked past them to a tent. Ivar pointed at a warrior, giving a curt demand in their language and nodding at you, then the warrior made his way to you, looking down as if he was scared of you as he helped you down from the horse.

“He brought a witch here?!” your head shot up when you heard your language being spoken but the man had disappeared into the tent before you could see who it was. You heaved a sigh, shaking your head slightly and followed the men to another tent, where some girls were emptying for you. You sat down on the ground onto an animal fur, trying to ignore their whispers and rolled your shoulders to get rid of the stiffness.

Alright.

So it was obvious you wouldn’t get a bed then.

You watched the last girl in the tent walk out and leave you there alone, then groaned and lied down on your back, the exhaustion crashing down on you. You tried to see a vision, any vision to help you to see what would come next, but before you could even focus on it, the sleep crept up on you, pulling you into its warmth. Normally, your sleep would be full of terrors, so much that you were used to getting up at least two times a night, but this time, you saw absolutely nothing until someone shook you by the shoulder, making your eyes open. You shook your head, trying to get rid of the haze of the sleep and glared up at the tall man with the long blonde ponytail. He helped you up into a sitting position, then pulled the cloth out of your mouth, making you move your jaw to reduce the pain.

“So you’re the witch my brother brought here?” he asked you, crouching down to your level and you tilted your head, arching a brow.

“You are not scared of me, Viking?”

“No,” his answer was simple, “I don’t. Are you scared, witch?”

“Why would I be?” you asked, “Your people are not very strong, are they?”

“Your king doesn’t agree with you.”

“Compared to me,” you corrected yourself with a sly smile, “I can smell their fear, did you know that? It’s lovely.”

“We have your city,” he said, “Your king has fallen. We have you as a prisoner.”

A small laugh you couldn’t stop escaped from your lips, “Oh is that right?” you asked, “That is what you think? You have me as your prisoner?”

He scoffed and nodded at your tied up hands, “Are you blind?”

“Are you?” you asked back, “Such naivety. You are my prisoner, Viking. You, and your brother, and your people. I hold the ropes, not you.”

He clicked his tongue, “I think I liked you better when you didn’t talk,” he said before he put the cloth into your mouth and pulled you up so that you could stand. You glared at him, fuming out of your nose but let him steer you out of the tent to a bigger one which made you think it was Ivar’s tent. Your suspicion was confirmed when you stepped inside and saw the rest of his brothers in a deep conversation with him, but they stopped as soon as they saw you.

“She is very talkative.” The blonde one said and Ubbe shook his head slightly,

“Bjorn….”

“I doubt she holds any danger.”

“I’m sure she holds danger.” A strange man said, making you look at him, “A witch, Ivar?”

“She says I’m already cursed by her.”

“Then kill her.”

“Did you not hear me, Harald?” Ivar said, “She says I’m cursed. If I kill her, the curse will not be lifted,” he eyed him up and down, “I am assuming it is something you do not want. Or do you?”

“I’m not your enemy, Ivar.”

Bjorn rolled his eyes and Hvitserk looked between you,

“You’re sure you want to talk to her alone?” he asked and Ivar nodded, biting inside his cheek. You raised your brows as Bjorn took the cloth out of mouth again, then one by one they left the tent, until you were alone with Ivar. You looked around, then made your way to the table and pulled yourself a seat, ignoring Ivar’s puzzled glances.

“I didn’t say you may sit.”

“Nor did I say you may speak,” you stated, reaching out to grab a piece of meat and a cup of water. Ivar gawked at you for a while, then managed to pull himself together.

“A lot of people think I should kill you.”

“You may try. You would follow me fast.”

“Or lock you up somewhere.”

“I would wither,” you said, “So would you. All things considered, Ivar, you have more to lose than me.”

“Enlighten me.” He said slowly, as if humoring you and you narrowed your eyes, locking his gaze in yours with a small smile on your face,

“Do you know what would happen?” you said, “If you died, right now. In your sick bed. No glory, no battlefield, no Valhalla. Do you know what they would say?”

He stayed silent, not averting his gaze,  

“You’ve created so many enemies for yourself,” you said, “If you fell sick, if they saw any weakness, they would attack you, and your land. You have a great army, you have ships, you have people’s nightmares working for you, but you are not the most terrifying thing in the world.” You shrugged, “The betrayal does not put distance between you and itself.”

“I will be betrayed?”

“Numerous times.”

“By my brothers?”

“By someone close,”

“But you will not tell me who?”

“No I will not.” You said, “I will help you when the time comes, though.”  

Ivar gritted his teeth, his glare sharpening, “I could make you tell me with enough pain.” He growled, the threat laced in his voice and your head shot up, the fury spreading through you,

“Let me make myself clear,” your voice dropped, reminding you of a hiss, “I do not take threats kindly. You will show me respect. You will not tie me as if I’m a prisoner, as if I’m below anyone here. I am not here to be treated as such, I am more than what you and your swarm of savages can ever comprehend. Threaten me again;” you eyed him up and down, “And I shall squeeze your heart until darkness claims you. I shall make the shadows swallow you and your people, and there will be nothing left of you for people to remember, except your screams.”

Ivar stared at you as if that was the first time somebody was threatening him, making you lean forward on the table, your gaze unwavering.

“Do we understand each other, Ivar?”

He nodded slowly, a flash of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on crossing his eyes, then you grabbed your cup and raised it a little, smiling slightly.

It took him a moment to react. For a second, you thought he would refuse, he would order you to be taken outside, to your tent.

But for the first time, the words that left his lips weren’t an order or a threat.

“What is your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated your name as if he was trying it on his lips, “We do understand each other.”

Then he held up his own cup, and crashed it against yours.

                                                          ***

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Remnant Daughter

Loki x Deceased!Reader x Daughter OC

Loki loved you. There was no one else he loved more than you. The day you died he resolved to protect that love that had resulted in a daughter. She was a perfect reminder of you, one he would preserve. No harm would ever come to her so long as he lived. 

Warning: None really. Just note that here Loki never tried taking over Midgard. When he found out his Jotun heritage he didn’t resent Odin and Frigga, rather thanked them for his upbringing.

“Loki-”

Loki tossed and turned in his bed as he heard his name being called out. The voice was meek and full of desperation. His skin began to turn blue as his mind took him back to the day he lost you.

Your lower body shook and trembled as you had yet to recover from delivering your baby daughter. One hand kept you stable along the cold cavern walls as the other held your newborn close to your chest. 

A cold huff of air escaped you as you got closer to the cavern’s opening where you could hear your husband fending off the intruders.

Unfortunately, your pregnancy had not been easy. Only Jotunheim housed the climate appropriate for your half-Jotun daughter. You were near death when you arrived, your skin burning to the touch. Only Loki was able to handle your feverish skin long enough to get you to where you had to be. 

After finding out his true parentage Loki remained in Asgard- where his beloved was. All for you, he gave up his line to the throne letting it go to Laufey’s other son. A son who hated Loki’s very existence.

When he had gotten word of his being within the realm he sent for him. That is when they caught wind of his reason for coming back. Laufeyson ordered your child be taken and killed to honor his father’s wish that would have seen Loki dead in the first place.

Loki would never allow any harm upon his child. A child you had desperately wanted in order to complete the vision of a perfect family you always painted for him. 

In full Jotun form, Loki growled, “Leave while I allow it.”

The Jotuns towered over him still, not backing down after being given strict orders from their king. 

“Loki,” you happily sighed as you saw your husband was unharmed.

Loki’s chest constricted once he heard the sweet sound of your voice. Only in his sleep could he accurately recall how truly beautiful a sound it was.

Without a moment to spare you had your free arm wrapped around him as your daughter was warmly nestled between you. “Thank Norns you are safe.”

He returned your embrace kissing the top of your head before tucking it under his chin. “You should not be out here, it is not safe. He will send others.”

“How can I remain hidden and do nothing when you are outnumbered? I am your wife, I will forever stand by your side.”

Loki’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he desperately tried to will himself awake knowing very well what came next. But his efforts were fruitless as his mind made him relive the most traumatic moment of his life. 

"Choose, your wife or your daughter?” 

“Don’t you dare harm her!” 

Laufeyson inched his ax closer to your neck when Loki took a step towards him, making you feel the sharp edge against your rapidly cooling skin. He had stripped you of the warm fur-lined coat that had kept your body temperature stable in the harsh cold of the realm. The thin Asgardian dress did little to shield you from the sharp winds. Hypothermia would soon claim you who was not built for such an environment. 

Loki tried to keep from showing how horrified he was by the decision. He could see the fear in your eyes, the paling of your skin, and the soft whimpering of his newborn which he held in his arms. It was impossible to choose. 

He could never hand over his daughter and yet he could not fathom the idea of returning to Asgard without you.

“Daddy~”

“Choose!”

“L-loki,” you shivered. “Please take her and go,” you begged him through teary eyes. Of course, you did not want to die but you would give your life for his and hers. You wanted nothing more than their happiness.

“I can’t-”

“Please just...” you knew Loki would never make the decision. You knew you had to make it for him.

His eyes widened as he saw your hand discreetly pull a dagger out of your sleeve as you wordlessly mouthed your final confession of love for him.

Loki’s eyes shot open when small hands began to hit his chest repeatedly. His ragged breathing came to a halt when he saw the look of concern on his five-year-old daughter.

“Kari, what are you doing here?”

“I could not sleep.” 

Her bright red eyes examined his expression knowing very well that this was the case for him as well. Unlike Loki, she had no control over her eyes as they remained her natural Jotun red but lacked the sheer darkness behind them. There was a gleam that illuminated them, undeniably inherited from you. That very same gleam that had gotten him to notice you when he had been surrounded by women who only sought him for his title.

“You were having a bad dream Daddy.” In an effort to comfort her father Kari wrapped her little arms around his torso laying her head against his chest. “Was it about Mommy?”

As he looked down at her he could not help but remember the way you would cling to him begging him to stay with you a moment longer instead of going about his duties. If he knew then how limited his time with you would be... he would have fulfilled your every wish. Now all he could do was regret. 

“It was,” he responded by putting his own arms around her and kissing the top of her head. 

Kari immediately looked up giving him a look of sorrow. “Daddy,” her eyes silently apologized for your absence. “Mommy isn’t here but I am. Kari will always be here for you.”

The heart-wrenching words of his concerned daughter had Loki smiling. He tucked her in with a light-hearted chuckle to show he had been relieved of his lamentations. 

Once again she was his strength. 

“I know my dear.”

He would live to protect this last remnant of you.

\\\

“If you have already finished the reading then perhaps it is time we introduce you to more complex literature.”

Kari sighed as she followed behind her grandfather’s advisor. He was a tutor to her when it came to diplomacy. As a princess Kari was expected to learn everything there was to be known about all the realms. 

“Here,” the elder man handed her a rather large and heavy book. “This will be of use to you. I remember when I first read it. I was much younger then.”

“The reason I read so quickly is to rid myself of my duties. Had I known this was going to happen I would have dozed off longer.”

“Princess you have been gifted with a mind like no other.” He smiled at the young girl showing he meant well. “Your mother read her way through this library. She was always searching always wondering, a true scholar. Your father and mother were different in every sense. This was the only place they ever crossed paths.”

“So I hear... but I’m not nearly as interested in dusty old books.” She was an eight-year-old girl who wished to have fun with the other children. Until now she had been urged from one lesson to another. Diplomacy, etiquette, magic, archery, economics, language, astrology, and worst of all- math. But it mattered not what task they put in front of her. The young girl was incredibly talented with unmatched intelligence and natural charisma. 

“I want to have fun.”

So much so that at times everyone was thankful Loki was so strict on her.

“What would your Highness consider fun?”

Kari shrugged, fun was never something she strived for. Only recently had the word come about after she heard the other noble children raving about how they spent their days riding horses to a secret waterfall the adults knew not of. And through books, she learned the most fun realm of all was Midgard.

“I would like to go to another realm.”

“Another realm?”

The little girl nodded, “I wish to see things for myself rather than read someone else’s account.” Her eyes trained themselves on the rainbow bridge which she could make out in the distance from the window. “Someday I will travel and become master of all realms.”

“How ambitious of you little one.”

Kari beamed as she heard her grandmother’s voice. 

“Queen Frigga,” the advisor gave a curt bow of his head which she acknowledged. At the same time, he was relieved of his duties as Kari’s tutor to be turned over to her. He left the royals with a cautionary warning to the young one that she should not overlook the wisdom of old dusty books.

Being in the presence of her grandmother Kari knew she could relax, evident by the way she rid herself of the glamour spell she had perfected to conceal her bright red eyes with beautiful gold irises. Although beautiful she much rather preferred that which made her different. 

“Much better,” she exhaled contently.

Frigga smiled, “My...what a beautiful granddaughter I have been bestowed.” Her hand gently prodded Kari’s chin to tilt her head up so she could meet her eyes. 

The compliment immediately gained Kari’s laughter. “You always say that...”

“And I always mean it.”

The little girl’s smile reached her eyes only to be withdrawn when she heard the familiar grumbling of her grandfather. “Kari!” He sternly called her name, not a fan of her openly displaying her Jotun heritage. 

Immediately she hid her eyes from view. 

“What have I told you?”

Kari sighed, the lecture had been engraved in her memory. “That I must adapt to what Asgard expects of me... and what they expect is a well-mannered, well-bred Asgardian princess.”

The rest of Asgard knew not of Loki’s lineage. For his sake and now for Kari’s sake, Odin had them conceal their Jotun attributes in order to keep any from questioning Loki as a prince of Asgard. This was helped by the fact that you, a sensible young woman from a noble family took an interest in his son. You hid the truth well even from your own family who to this day believe you had died of complications during childbirth. 

They never approved of your relationship with Loki, in turn, they despised Kari for causing your premature death. 

This was something Kari had no knowledge of. Loki made sure her life was nothing but positive. If ever an inconvenience arose he would deal with it. Therefore your family no longer resided in Asgard. 

“Do not be so hard on her, she is only a child.”

Odin sighed knowing there was truth to Frigga’s statement but he was only looking out for his granddaughter. He truly cared for her. He had to ensure her future as a princess of Asgard. “She is the firstborn princess of Asgard. It is a title she must not take lightly.”

Loki appeared as if out of nowhere, his hands behind his back as he sported a playful smirk. “I really do wish Thor would just marry and give you other grandchildren to torment.” 

He was grateful for Odin taking him in but knew all his life he had been at a disadvantage with Thor who was a blood son. He knew once his brother had children Odin would turn his attentions to them the future Kings or Queens of Asgard. 

“Loki!” Frigga warned her youngest son to watch what he said, especially in front of Kari.

“Daddy,” Kari ran into her father’s arms happy to see he was back. Her arms latched around his neck as she rested her head on his shoulder. “I missed you.”

“And I missed you, my little one.” One arm carried her weight while the other hand gave her full head of silk-like hair a pat. 

Odin remained silent not justifying himself to Loki. He had his reasons for doing things the way he did just as Loki had his.

Thor soon appeared as well having been left behind by his brother. 

“Uncle Thor,” one hand reached out to him wanting to also greet him but not enough to let go of her father. 

“Kari, my sweet princess.” He smiled brightly at the affectionate scene before him of his niece latching onto his brother. Never had he seen him so openly display affection before Kari’s birth. Even with you, he seemed to hide his attraction making others question the validity of your relationship at one point. He reached out to hold her hand in his and kissed the top. “I hope you have behaved yourself while we were gone.”

“Of course she has.” “Of course I have.” Father and daughter simultaneously respond.

“Then I suppose we can bestow you with the gift we have brought.”

Kari’s eyes lit up. “A gift!”

The entire royal family had trekked out into the stables where Kari’s gift lay in wait. A gift that was actually not from her uncle or father. 

A crowd of people was gathered in awe at the gift. For many this was a new creature for others it was a memory of the past for there had been many in Asgard until they went extinct. They waited to hear how the creature had ended up here.

“Alfheim has gifted one of their precious unicorns to the firstborn princess of Asgard.”

Kari gasped seeing the white unicorn that stood as a stark contrast to the surrounding horses. The unicorn’s distinct horn was incredibly long and shiny, when the light caught it there seemed to be an iridescent shine like opal or pearl. The mane was hard to describe in one word. It was white but somewhere in between, it seemed to give a hint of blue shine. One thing was for sure, the mane was long and silky in the way each strand fell perfectly back in place. 

“Is it really for me?” She held her father’s hand tight with giddiness. 

Loki was not fond of the idea of his daughter riding but had to admit defeat at the happiness she was radiating. “If you promise to behave and take lessons before attempting to ride him-” 

“Him, hmmm...” The young girl tapped her chin in her pursuit of a suitable name for her beautiful new companion. Her hand slipped out of her father’s to approach the magical looking creature. That is how she was able to see the sporadic deep blue streaks of hair that were outnumbered by the white. “Azure,” she spoke mostly to herself yet to the unicorn. “Did you know there are hundreds of words for the color blue. There are many languages and dialects each with their own word.” Her hand gently ran through the ends of his mane, the only part she could reach. “You look more like an Azure.”

“What a lovely name my dear,” Frigga beamed seeing how her spirit had been lifted after being reprimanded by Odin.

“Yes, but what good is a horse you can not ride.” Thor, the ever fun-loving uncle that he was, went against his brother’s wishes and lifted his niece up onto the unicorn’s back.

“It is not your ordinary horse you oaf!” Loki scolded. His brother knew not of a unicorn’s differing mannerisms and personalities to horses. They were far more gentle creatures with the temper of a bull and the charge of a rhino only far more dangerous with that sharp horn of theirs. 

Kari was fighting with her urge to go along with her uncle or listen to her father’s demand for her to get off.

“Come now brother, nothing will happen. Let our young princess have some fun, Odin knows you did when you were younger.” With that Thor mounted Azure keeping his niece safely between his arms as he took the reigns. 

To Loki’s surprise, Azure listened to Thor entertaining them with a steady gallop.

Odin’s lips seemed to curl up into a brief smile that only Frigga caught before he retired back into the palace.  She brought her hand onto her son’s shoulder assuring him there was no harm.

Loki’s worries were only put to rest by Kari’s laughter. His daughter’s quick liking to the animal reminded him of you.

Loki smirked using your lack of agility to his advantage as he stole your current interest right out of your hands. He held the book above your reach to examine it. “What has my love so interested in Alfheim?”

Your brow furrowed in discontent, “It is none of your concern-”

“If you wish to visit you only need say so.”

The book was handed back to you allowing you something to grasp while you remind him of your situation. “You already know that is impossible when all of Asgard is watching us.”

You had married Loki only a few months ago and were determined to do everything in your power to earn your place. There were still too many who did not acknowledge your marriage to Loki simply because they thought Thor should be first to marry. 

“You worry too much.”

“Do I?”

Loki nodded, “Now tell me why Alfheim?”

“Unicorns.”

“Unicorns,” Loki eyed you with skepticism. “A realm known for its magical knowledge, nature, music... and you simply want to see a horned horse?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Unicorns are said to be magical creatures. The alicorn being the source of their magical and medicinal properties.”

Loki recalled watching you flip through books as you animatedly recounted your research on the rare creature. He could only imagine you would smile just as brightly upon the unicorn’s arrival.

Kari interrupted his thoughts when she came running to him. “Did you see me?”

“You were wonderful my little one.”

Although his lips were curled into a smile Kari could easily read her father. There was a certain look in his eyes, darkness, whenever he became saddened by the thought of you.

“I love you Daddy,” these four words were her magical tool against her father’s dark thoughts. She need only say it once for him to come back to his senses.

Loki truly smiled now, wonderfully surprised by his daughter’s sentiment. “I love you too.”

The young girl wondered if someday she could take her father’s pain away. She wanted him to be the fun mischievous person everyone always recalled in their stories of times before she was born. 

That night Kari would not go to bed no matter how many times her nursemaid tried to coax her. She relentlessly went on about waiting for her father to be done so he could tuck her in like when she was younger.

“Princess your father is very busy-”

“I can wait.”

“Please princess have mercy on me. Your father will be very displeased with me if I do not complete my tasks.” 

Kari had seen many nursemaids come and go throughout her short years. Each one having been replaced after Loki saw they were not fit to uphold his standards or if one got too attached to her. 

He did not wish for anyone to play the role of mother to Kari. His daughter already had a mother. 

“That is not my problem,” Kari crossed her arms over her chest standing firm. “I will do as I please until my father retires for the night.”

The nursemaid sighed unable to do anything but wait to be reprimanded and perhaps sent to another noble family to care for their children. 

Hours later Loki had yet to retire. 

Kari sleepily hung onto hope for a bit longer before going across the hall to his rooms in search of him. She pushed the heavy door to gain entrance into the silent chambers. 

She knew if she would just call out to him he would appear before her but this time around she was curious to know why he had not come to see her. That’s when she heard a muffled sound coming from his study, the door slightly ajar.

Loki sat back in his chair, a chalice of mulled wine in his hand while he faced the farthest wall where a portrait of you hung as the only decoration. It was commissioned post-mortem when he realized there were no portraits of only you. 

He concentrated greatly needing more time than usual to picture you in all your glory. Then in a second, you were standing before him in golden shine. It was an illusion he had created of you.

“It’s getting harder-” A knot in his throat stopped him mid-sentence. The thought of possibly forgetting you was more than he could handle. “Why can’t I summon you at will?”

The illusion of you stood still flickering slightly when he took a drink.

Lately, he could only remember you in your last moments of life. He found himself forgetting the finer details of your appearance and personality.

“I forget my love... did you like postmodern romanticism or was it transcendentalism?”

He took another drink and yet again you flickered.

Loki stared at the illusion he had made, judging the appearance. He always remembered that pale green dress you wore when he first noticed you. It fit you well, hugged all the right places and complimented your lustrous skin. Your hair and your face- he gripped the chalice trying to recall the color and feel.

The image that came to mind was much to generic for his liking... just like the portrait.

He stood up approaching the illusion and looked up at the portrait. 

“Sure it is beautiful,” he admitted. It resembled you but was it truly you. “No one can ever accurately capture you, my love.”

Kari’s eyes teared up when she heard how hard it was getting for her father to speak.

“And your voice...” 

“Loki,” the illusion called to him in your voice- or at least what he thought was your voice. “Loki, my love.”

“How I wish to hear it.” A tear finally found its way down Loki’s cheek as he resigned himself to the fact that even he couldn’t reproduce the sweet sound of your voice.

In his dreams, he heard it but it was always followed by your cries of pain.

“I love you Loki,” the illusion smiled with a tilt of its head in the same way you would every time you playfully professed your love to him.

When the chalice was empty Loki picked up the bottle and drank directly from it. The illusion flickered continuously until he had downed the entirety of it.

Kari stepped into the study now fully in tears from what she was seeing.

“Daddy...”

Loki quickly turned to see his daughter cautiously approaching him. “Kari-” he wanted to reprimand her for not being in bed but found it difficult when she was sorrowfully staring at his illusion of you.

Up until now, he had been careful not to do this in front of her. He knew it would be too much of an emotional trigger. He could hardly handle it himself. When he made a gesture to be rid of it Kari stopped him.

“Wait-” Her small hands reached out to him. Now it was she who compared the illusion to the portrait above. All she had ever seen was that portrait but never imagined her mother’s voice.

“C-can she-” she was almost afraid to ask. As if her father would deny her request. “Can she say my name?”

Loki inhaled sharply. His daughter’s request was difficult but not impossible.

“Kari~” the illusion called out effectively rendering the little girl motionless. This time Loki managed to envision your joyous expression upon his return from long trips. He had the illusion give a similar smile and say, “I love you Kari.”

“I love you too Mommy-”

The little girl’s lips trembled unable to stop herself from crying profusely. She had never met this woman yet she felt so strongly about her.

His daughter’s tears were sobering. Loki put down the bottle he had so viciously been gripping onto. He knelt down in front of his young daughter, the illusion now vanishing into nothing but golden specs of light. 

“Kari-”

"Daddy...” Kari’s small arms wrapped around her father as she continued to cry into his chest.

Loki held her silently. There was nothing he could say that would make her feel better. For years he had tried finding comfort from the neverending pain he felt after your loss. But nothing could ever fill the void you left behind.

At one point he damned you for making him fall in love with you. He damned the empty promises of forever. You dared entice him with the picture of eternal love and a family to cherish and call his own only to leave him behind.

But in the end, he knew it was all worth it. 

Loving you gave his life new meaning. 

Before you, he never imagined himself as a father and now he couldn’t imagine a life without his precious daughter. 

Kari found comfort in her father’s embrace although she didn’t care too much for the smell of alcohol on him. The gentle caress of her hair and the slight pressure atop her head of his lips seemed to coax her out of the mournful sorrow she was suddenly hurled into. 

Slowly the tears began to dry up and she was able to find her voice again.

“Daddy... Do you think- do you think she would have loved me?”

“She loved you before you were even born.”

“Really?” Kari looked up with swollen eyes and a runny nose.

Loki nodded, “She couldn’t wait to meet you.” 

He recalled your constant lack of interest in him as you worried over your growing belly.

“Do you think this is normal?” 

You continued to inspect your reflection in the mirror as you stood in front of it with only a towel wrapped around you. It had become a regular occurrence after your bath. Your hands were on your protruding belly but your eyes were on Loki as he approached you from behind.

Loki placed his hands on top of yours not really focusing on your question but on the way you had completely let your guard down. His lips found your bare shoulder to be much more important. 

“I doubt there is something I know that you do not my lovely wife.” His lips lightly trailed kisses up along your neck as he continued to whisper loving words into your ear. “But I do know I can hardly keep my hands off you when you are this enticing.”

“Forever the silver-tongued prince...”

“Forever the beautiful vixen who seduced this prince.”

You laughed, “Seriously Loki... do you think she is alright?”

“Do not worry, everything will be fine.”

"Even now she loves you...” 

“Really?” He nodded in affirmation but Kari was still unconvinced. 

Loki was always known for his lies but he dare not deceive his own daughter. You were a mother who gave her own life for her daughter. Although he couldn’t tell her this now, in the future she would know it.

She would know how you protected her.

She would know how much you loved her...how much you loved them.

She would know of your loving sacrifice.

“Trust me little one.”

-end-

A/N: Sorry for the long unexplained hiatus. In the meantime, I hope you accept this humble offering as an apology for my absence.

Disclaimer: This story will contain mention of racism, sexism, prostitution, sex and violence. I do not own any of the PB related characters nor the locations mentioned in RDR2.

PART TWO

Liam cocked his head confused. The sheriff’s laughing finally made sense as he tries to swallow his surprise. Despite the pain he was still suffering from he stood up straight as he held out his hand. Showing no hesitation Jèan reached out to shake it, only to be a bit surprised herself as brought her hand up to his lips and placed a light kiss upon it. As Jèan takes her hand back giggles. “So you’re the Saint Denis boy that was looking for me? You’re a long way from home. And you should still be laying down.” She says as she goes to bring him back to the bed.

“Wait!” Liam tries to protest. “I need help-"

“Given that you barely made it 20 miles before nearly losing you valuables and your life from an obvious trap. You need more than just help. You need a wake up call that you don’t belong out here rich boy" Drake interrupted as he stood by the door.

Jèan gives Sheriff Walker a hard stare as she gets him back down on the bed. The sheriff’s smirks as he moves more into the room.

“Well thank the lord for that you went after me and put down those criminals who tried to kill me.” Liam exclaimed as he laid back down. Once again the look of confusion was upon his face as he saw Jèan and the sheriff exchanged a confused look with each other. 

To Liam’s annoyance Drake begins to chuckle but immediately stops as Jèan again glares at him before turning her attention to Liam. 

“Do you not remember anything before passing out?” She asked. Liam shook his head. “The sheriff didn’t save you. It was me.” Liam again looked confused. “I was already back in town when I noticed you getting your horse. Judging by how tired you look I decided to follow you. Lucky for you I did after you stopped for the fake soldier I saw his partner coming up behind you.” Jèan then stood up to fetch a glass of water and brought it to Liam as she continued her story. “I was fortunate to not use too many bullets also that you didn’t sustained any serious injuries. All you need is to rest for day or two.” 

“The sheriff said that you wouldn’t have been back until the afternoon.” Liam exclaimed. 

“I got back early. Plus I had another bounty to turn in.”Jèan answered as she sat down on the nearby chair. “So since you are still deciding to be ignoring instructions to rest, why don’t you go and tell me why you’re here and why do you need my help?” 

Immediately Liam felt embarrassed and fell silent. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the person he was seeking was a woman. Having already been told she was colored wasn’t nearly as shocking. 

“Well" Jèan says. “Out with it.”

“I told you Jèan you were wasting your time with him" Drake said as he walked from the door to the window behind her. She shrugged. “I guess I am.” She got up and started for the door.

“A gang killed my father.” Liam spoke through anguished breath. “They ambushed us at our home, during a celebration. They seemed to want to kill me but my father pushed me out of the way.” He continued trying and failing to hold back tears. “Even though he was shot so many times he was still alive. This fat, crazed faced man in black stood over him and shot dead.” 

Jèan had sat back down in the nearby chair. Though her body sat stoic Liam saw the compassion and remorse in her eyes. “ I need your help. I need justice. I want to find those bastards and I want them to pay.” Liam exclaimed through labor breath.

“Jèan leans back in the chair and gives a brief look at Drake before turning her attention back to Liam.  “I know of the man you speak of .” Both Liam and Drake look at her with equal surprise. “His name is Charles Dupree. However he goes by the name Big Black.” Jèan took a breath before continuing. “And since he’s the man that killed your father then this wasn’t an isolated incident.”

Liam still surprised slowly sits up. “Why did this bastard kill my father?”

“Likely because he was ordered to.” She answered. “He’s not the gangs leader. That gang is known as the Abanthus Faction, led by a man named Anton Severus. He’s the man that gave the order to kill your father and since they left after he was killed he was the one they were after.”

“How do I find him?” Liam hissed. Drake steps forward “Haven’t you been listening to what she said? A man like him is too connected. You go after him and he’ll have you killed before you can make it to his low level thugs.”

“Well I’m not going back to my family and hope they’ll get captured.” Liam argued. “If I have to go after them so be it.”

“You are out of your rich boy mind!” Drake argued back.

“ENOUGH!” Jèan said loudly enough for both men to shut up abruptly. Keeping her attention on Liam she steps to him. “I’ve heard why you were looking for me. Now that you know who and what I am, the questions now are do you still require my assistance and why should I help you?" 

Liam sat back down on the bed. After a minute he looked up.

"I will admit that you're not what I imagined you would be, but I do need your help. This is more than just my father being killed, those men terrorized my family, adding to more devastation we already had been through. Ones that left us with no answers. I can't let this go unanswered. And you already shown you live up to your reputation. All I can do is ask if you will." He stared at her, eyes pleading. "Please help me get those bastards."

Jèan gave Liam a hard stare as she placed her hands on her hips. Then she sighed. "I have to collect one more bounty, that should give you enough time to fully rest." She took a small bottle from her satchel and handed it to him. "This tincture should help you sleep. Take at least two spoonfuls. When I get back we can go from there."

Liam looked surprised. "So you'll help me?" Jèan nodded. Drake scoffed and head out. Jèan walked to the bed and kneeled down to eye level with Liam.

"If you're serious about this, then I expect you to take this seriously." She said in a low, intimidating tone and with a hard glare. "Seeing that you don't want to head back to Saint Denis and wait for word. You're going to have to pull your weight and that means you do what I tell you. You understand?" Liam slowly nodded. Jèan gave a curt nod and reach out to caress his face. "Now take that medicine and rest. I'll be back soon." With that Jèan stood up and walked out the room. Liam sat there in shock over all that had happened. More than that he found his hand caressing the spot Jèan's hand was. It still felt warm and it made his beat fast. Not wishing to give her any reason to no longer help him Liam took the medicine and soon was asleep.

A day and a half later Liam woke up feeling better. He slept like the dead and all his pain was gone.

"So you're awake now." Jèan said, startling him. She sat in the nearby chair and the sheriff stood behind her, evening light casted an intimidating shadow on him. "How are you feeling?" She asked. 

"Much better. Thank you" Liam replied. 

"I have a bath ready for you. Go wash yourself and when you finish that there will be super and a fresh change of clothes waiting for you here. Found a lead. We'll go over it when you're clean and fed." Jean then got up and walked out leaving Liam and sheriff Walker in the room. 

Drake looked at him with disinterest. "Well rich boy, you better get yourself ready. Once we talk shop we head out at first light."

"We?" Liam asked surprised. "Aren't you the sheriff here?"

"Guess you didn't hear." Drake answered, smugly. "I'm retired. Your looking at the new owner of the Emerald Vale Estate." Drake tipped his hat and walked out.

"Ass." Liam muttered.

Tagging: @bebepac @bobasheebaby @ao719 @cordonianroyalty @dcbbw @radlovedreamer @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @kimmiedoo5 @elles-choices @emceesynonymroll @hopefulmoonobject

TDOE, Day 10

Here it is! This one got longer than I expected, but I enjoyed writing it!

Alarik and Neta belong to @patricia-von-arundel.

Rating: T (some gore)

Earth Giants. 

Gale was the first to alert Elsa of the man’s presence in the forest. She twirled through Nøkk’s legs- much to their annoyance- as Elsa rode out to patrol the Eastern border, whistling until Elsa asked Nøkk to stop. 

Images flooded Elsa’s mind- a lean, gangly man with auburn hair walking into the camp, speaking to Honeymaren, Ráfi and Ryder. She guessed him to be Alarik, a scholar of magic whom Anna had written to Elsa about- he’d expressed an interest in visiting the forest for his studies. Alarik was left alone for a while, and something appeared to catch his attention. He started off into the woods, and the vision jumped, showing him with his eyes and mouth wide open as he looked around, walking along the edge of a familiar river lined with cliffs.

Not cliffs- Earth Giants. Sleeping Earth Giants.

Elsa sucked in a breath, turning Nøkk and spurring them into a gallop towards the river. Idiot, idiot man! What was he thinking? He had spoken to the Northuldra- Gale had shown her that- and they would have warned him about the dangers of entering the forest without a guide. Why had he gone out on his own? The Earth Giants had become far less temperamental ever since Elsa’s ascension to the Fifth Spirit, but they were still dangerous, particularly if woken during their daily naps.

“He’s going to get himself killed.” Elsa growled. She only hoped that she could get there in time.

……..

Alarik struggled to comprehend the scene around him. He’d certainly known that a place named the “Enchanted Forest” would be awe-inspiring, but seeing the forest in person put even his wildest imaginings to shame. His travels had taken him to countless forests, all with their own appreciable beauty, but none came even close to the one he stood in now. If it wasn’t such a ridiculous notion, he would even admit he could feel the magic thrumming through the very land itself.

As he made his way along the cliffs looming over the river below, Alarik couldn’t suppress the niggling worry that urged him to turn back to the Northuldra encampment and wait for a guide. The Northuldra leaders, while welcoming, had urged him to remain in the camp until someone could be found. 

“The spirits can be unpredictable at the best of times,” the leader called Honeymaren explained. “Best to wait until someone can accompany you.” To his credit, he had tried waiting, but a burst of dancing flame had captured his attention. He wouldn’t go too far, and besides, he’d done his share of trekking through woods in his travels. He would be fine. Alarik didn’t realize how far he’d walked- shortly after leaving the camp boundaries, the flame had disappeared, but by then he was completely enraptured in the scenery surrounding him that he kept going, right up to the river where he now walked. As he peered at the rugged cliffs surrounding the rushing water, Alarik thought he could make out- was that a face?

“Fascinating,” he whispered, pulling out his journal and pencil. He’d heard of the Earth Giants before, but to see them was something else entirely. He found a nearby boulder and sat down, opening the journal to a blank page and beginning to sketch and diagram the phenomenon in front of him. While he was trying to get a detail of the Giant’s face, Alarik slid off the bolder, intending to get a closer look. His foot caught in a fissure he’d not noticed, and he pitched forward with a howl as a bolt of agony shot through his ankle. 

Below him, the ground began to convulse, and Alarik immediately forgot about his ankle as the two dark craters snapped open and glared in his direction.

“Oh… oh no.” Alarik scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide. He stood, intending to run, only to have his ankle collapse beneath him. The giant worked its way to its feet with a tremendous roar, grabbing a boulder the size of a house. It brought its hand back, and all Alarik could do was watch as the stone came hurtling in his direction. 

He did not expect for a gust of ice and snow to lift him from the ground and send him hurtling through the air, the boulder slamming to the spot he’d been lying on seconds later. The gust deposited him on the back of what he assumed was a horse- though it looked like no horse Alarik had ever seen. The creature was not one of hide and hair, but rather what looked, and felt, to be ice. He had little time to marvel, however, as a voice to his right called out, “Enough!”

Everything fell quiet, even the breeze. A figure stepped forward, and Alarik could not believe his eyes. A woman, dressed in clothing similar to the Northuldra’s, but nearly white in coloration, stepped forward, her pale hair flowing like a waterfall down her back. She strode forward with a straight back and regal posture, lifting a hand. The giant’s features softened, and it set down a second boulder before settling back into a reclining posture. Within seconds, the giant was asleep. The woman relaxed momentarily, then turned to pierce him with an icy glare, advancing with a straight back. Alarik swallowed. The woman in front of him could only be Elsa, the Fifth Spirit, and he had just put himself squarely on her bad side.

“What… were… you… thinking!?” Alarik couldn’t help but to shrink back at Elsa’s rage as she continued her advance. “No one should ever, ever go into these woods without a guide from Northuldra! Weren’t you told that!?”

“Yes, but-” 

“No. No excuses. You were incredibly fortunate that I found you when I did, or that would have been your final resting place. The Giant thought you were an intruder! Now, I’m going to take you back to the camp, and you are going to stay at the camp unless one of us is with you, or I will send you back to Leisalla myself. Am. I. Clear!?”

Alarik could only nod. With a graceful movement, Elsa swung up behind him.

“Take us back, Nøkk.”

………

From the next several days, Alarik remained in the camp unless he was accompanied by a Northuldra villager. He stayed clear of Elsa during those days, as her contempt for him remained quite clear. He tried, multiple times to apologize, but each time he was met with a glare and a curt nod before Elsa left on her own. 

A week after his misadventure, Honeymaren and her wife Ráfi were able to convince Elsa to accompany them and Alarik to the Earth Giant’s resting place to meet the Giant that had nearly killed him. Alarik, of course, had been extremely nervous to meet the spirit, but with Elsa translating- he learned that she was able to communicate with all the spirits through a series of images and feelings- the Giant eventually accepted Alarik, at least enough to tolerate his presence and understand that he was not there to harm anyone or anything within the forest. 

After the meeting, and once the other spirits had a chance to meet Alarik, he was allowed to make short excursions in the forest by himself.

It was on one such foray on a particularly hot, humid day when Alarik heard a strange bawling noise. He followed the sound- more out of curiosity than anything else- to a steep, craggy hill. At first, he didn’t see anything, until a movement near the top of the hill drew his attention. It was Elsa, climbing with easy, nimble movements. Alarik followed the direction of her climb and was just able to make out the form of a reindeer calf stuck between two large stones- the source of the noise. Within seconds, Elsa was at the calf’s side, and with a few deft movements, she had pulled the calf loose. Alarik watched as Elsa slung the calf over her shoulders and began her descent. Just as he was about to leave, not wanting to face Elsa’s ire- even if she had seemed a bit less cold towards him- he heard the sound of rock falling free. He turned just in time to watch, helplessly, as Elsa slid and rolled down the hill, somehow maintaining her grip on the calf. As she fell, Alarik saw her leg catch on a thick branch. Her cry echoed throughout the forest, and when she finally rolled to a stop, she remained still, the calf on her shoulders bawling frantically. 

“Elsa!” Alarik rushed forward even as he wondered what exactly he’d be able to do. As soon as he arrived by Elsa’s side, Alarik was relieved to see her chest rising and falling, and after a moment, her eyes fluttered open. His relief was short-lived when he saw Elsa’s left leg. A massive gash ran from her knee halfway down to her calf, and within the mass of blood and lacerated flesh, Alarik could see the white glint of bone. He swallowed back the gorge rising in his throat, struggling to keep his composure as he looked around, trying to come up with a plan. Elsa groaned, and stuck out her hand, a swirl of ice encompassing the wound. 

“Wonderful,” Elsa grunted, examining the wound with a critical eye. The bleeding had stopped with the application of her ice, but Alarik could tell that the wound needed further attention.

“Can you walk?” Alarik asked, trying to mentally gauge the distance between their current position and the camp. They were maybe two kilometers out, from what he remembered, but could Elsa’s leg hold out until then? He noticed then that Elsa was not looking at the wound any more, but up at the sky. Alarik followed her gaze, and his heart dropped when he saw the dark thunderheads drawing near. Flashes of light illuminated the clouds’ underbellies, and Alarik knew that the storm would hit them before they could make it to the safety of the camp. 

Elsa groaned once more, and formed two crutches of ice. Shaking, she worked herself to her feet, jerking her head in the direction of the reindeer calf. “I can’t carry her and walk at the same time. Just put her on your shoulders like I did- she’s used to it.” Alarik didn’t dare contest her order, but as he swung the calf over his shoulder- wincing when a hoof clipped his ear- he still saw no solution to their current predicament.

“I don’t think we’re going to make it to the camp in time.” Alarik spoke cautiously, not wanting to push his luck.

“We’re not.” Elsa’s voice was taut with pain. “There’s… a cave… not far… from here. We can make it… if we… move fast enough.” 

“Are you going to be able to make it?”

“Going to have to.” Elsa limped forward, and Alarik had no choice but to follow.

……….

They arrived at the cave seconds before the storm broke, a tempest of rain and thunder that turned the world outside the cave entrance night-black. As they entered, Elsa explained that the cave was part of a system the Northuldra used for anyone, like them, who were too far from camp and needed temporary shelter. The cave was well-stocked with basic necessities- firewood, flint and steel, food, medical supplies, a few tools and even a small enclosure where Alarik placed the calf.The walk, while not far, had clearly pushed Elsa to her limits, and Alarik was grateful that his travels had taught him basic outdoorsmanship, particularly in starting a fire. By the time he had a good blaze going- placing a kettle of water over the flames- Elsa’s skin had taken on a sickly pallor, and a sheen of sweat covered her face. He approached her slowly, praying that he would be able to help.

“Elsa, may I please look at your leg? I was trained in field dressing during a stint in Scotland, and I have had to care for my own-”

“Fine.” The word came out as a hiss through gritted teeth, and Alarik couldn’t help but to pull back. However, Elsa stretched the leg in his direction, and said nothing as he drew closer.

“Can you remove the ice, please?” A wave of her hand, and the ice dissipated. Almost immediately, blood began to seep up in the wound, and Alarik reached for a wad of bandages, doing his best to staunch the flow. Even if Elsa iced the wound again, it would only serve as a temporary reprieve. Alarik could think of only one option. 

“Elsa, I’m afraid your wound needs to be…” His throat tightened, and Alarik had to struggle to get the next word out. “…cauterized.”

Elsa’s head fell back as she groaned. “I was afraid of that. Alright, there should be a knife somewhere in the supplies. Go ahead and start heating that. Do you know what dried goldenseal looks like? Good, grab a handful and put it in the kettle. I’ll need to wash my hands before I do this.”

Alarik jerked his head around, unable to keep his mouth from falling open. “You can’t possibly be serious! Elsa, there’s no way you can do that on your own! I’ll take-”

“No.” Despite her evident exhaustion, Elsa’s refusal held an authoritative tone that made Alarik hesitate. “You’ll end up getting hurt- my powers are extremely difficult to control when I’m in pain. No, set everything up for me, and then get as far away as possible.” Her tone made it clear that she expected no arguments, but Alarik wouldn’t do so. Not this time.

“Elsa, please, hear me out.” He had to be careful- even in the short time he’d been staying in the forest, he had learned that if there was anything Elsa feared above all, it was losing control of her powers, even around him. “I know why you don’t want me near you if there’s a risk of you losing control, but you and I both know that this isn’t going to work as well, if at all if you attempt this on your own. Please, allow me to help you. We can figure out how to keep things safe for the both of us.” He fell silent for a moment, looking about the cave walls as he desperately sought inspiration for a solution. Wait… the walls. 

“Elsa, the walls- can you direct your powers into them? If you can send them into the walls, it could be enough for me to finish the procedure without being harmed.” When he noticed her hesitation, Alarik reached forward before realizing what he was doing and pulled his hand back. “Can you try that?”

Elsa remained silent for so long that Alarik wondered if she had fallen unconscious, until she spoke.

“I will try. But I need you to promise me that if I tell you to go, you will go.“ 

Alarik nodded as he checked the knife blade- it was glowing red. "I promise.”

“No. Look at me. Promise it.” Elsa’s voice held a tense note, and when Alarik met her eyes, he thought he saw tears forming. 

“I. Promise.”

Elsa gave a curt nod, dragging her sleeve across her eyes. Alarik turned away, giving her privacy, and pulled the steaming kettle of goldenseal off the fire, sitting back to let it cool enough to wash his hands. To his surprise, a layer of frost grew on the outside of the metal, and he caught Elsa’s half-smile.

“Sometimes it helps to have ice powers.” Alarik chuckled as he lowered his hands into the mixture, scrubbing thoroughly. When he had finished, he gave one last look at Elsa, whose smile had vanished. 

“Are you ready?”

“No, but let’s get this over with.” Elsa braced her hands on the stone, fingers splayed, eyes screwed shut. As Alarik pulled the knife from the fire, she spoke again, her voice soft. 

“Would you… would you talk to me?" 

Alarik froze, unsure of what she wanted. "Talk to you?”

“Tell me about your travels, or what you’ve learned. Just… please give me something to focus on, other than… other than the pain.”

“Of course." 

And so he talked. He started at the very beginning, his first visit to Oslo, as he pressed the blade to her flesh, fighting to keep his voice level as she threw back her head with a howl, ice spiking away from her hands. He spoke of his mishaps and friends as he guided the knife over the wound, recoiling at the awful smell, trying to move as quickly and thoroughly as possible. He spoke of his journeys to other countries as he packed and bandaged the wound. By the time he was finished, the ice had spread to the ceiling, dagger-like icicles hanging menacingly above them. Elsa’s eyes were glazed with pain, and her hands dropped from the walls as if they were weighed down with stones. Alarik kept an eye on her as he cleaned everything to the best of his ability. Finally, there was nothing else to be done, and he fell silent, letting the sounds of the storm fill the air between them. 

Eventually, Elsa shifted to a more upright position. “Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse from screaming, and when Alarik looked at her, her eyes were shut tight, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “I… owe you.”

Alarik flushed. “You would have done the same.” He busied himself by pulling out his journal and pencil, finding a new page. He set the pencil to the page, but nothing came to mind. 

Elsa remained quiet for several minutes, and Alarik wondered if she had fallen asleep. An idea came to him, and Alarik started sketching an outline. 

“I suppose I would have.” Alarik looked up to see that Elsa’s eyes had opened again, but rather than looking at him, she was eyeing the ice dripping from the ceiling. He was relieved to see that her breathing had evened out, even more so when she was able to dissipate everything.

“Even if I’m an idiot who nearly gets himself crushed by an Earth Giant’s boulder?” The joke was a risk, and for a moment, Alarik feared he’d gone too far. He relaxed when Elsa’s lips lifted in a crooked smile. 

“I suppose you ended up growing on me.”

Alarik stopped his sketching as something warm and pleasant bloomed in his chest. “Really!?”

“Yes. Like a fungus.” 

Alarik threw back his head and laughed, and Elsa even managed a quick chuckle. They fell into silence for a while more.

“Alarik?”

“Hmmm?”

“I know the tent you’re sharing with Ryder is a little on the smaller side, and I’m sure space is tight with your supplies.” 

Alarik lifted a shoulder. “It’s perfectly fine, really. I’m used to travelling light, and I’ve been in much smaller places. And Ryder is a nice man.”

Elsa wasn’t looking at him any longer, and he noticed a tinge of red was creeping up her neck. “I’m… I’m glad. But… if you’re interested, I do have plenty of room in my tent. The Northuldra really did make it much too large- I don’t use all the space, and I did bring some desks from Arendelle which you are welcome to use.”

Now it was Alarik’s turn to blush. “That is a very kind offer, Elsa, but I’m quite fine where I am. I don’t want to impose on you.” 

“You wouldn’t be, I promise.” Elsa had turned away from him, and what Alarik could see on her face was unreadable. He wasn’t entirely sure about his own feelings on the matter- his thoughts were a confusing jumble.

“Will you… let me think on it?”

“Of course.”

Alarik returned to his sketching, and Elsa’s eyelids drooped, until he could hear her breathing grow deep and even. It took him a moment to realize that he could hear her breathing clearly because the storm outside had finally tapered off- they could return to the camp, and get Elsa further medical attention. 

If she could make it. 

“Elsa?” She sniffed and murmured as she woke, and Alarik was struck by just how sweet she looked. He quickly pushed the intrusive thought aside and indicated the calming weather outside the cave’s entrance. “The storm is letting up. We should probably get you back to the camp so that the healer can look at you. Can you walk, or do you want me to bring someone here?”

Elsa’s eyes closed once more, but it looked more that she was concentrating rather than falling asleep. After a moment, she looked at Alarik with a smile. “No need. We have help coming. Go ahead and douse the fire.” 

Before Alarik could ask what Elsa meant, a low rumble filled the air and the cave began to shake. Seconds later, a massive face lowered itself to the cave’s entrance- an Earth Giant, and one Alarik thought he recognized.

“Is that…”

“The one who almost crushed you? Yes. Don’t worry, he’s alright with you.”

Alarik grunted, dousing the fire and making sure the ashes were sufficiently scattered. He went to pick up the reindeer calf, but noticed that Elsa was having difficulty standing. Alarik quickly removed his shirt and fashioned it into a sling, placing the calf within. He then offered his arm, and after a moment, Elsa grasped it and pulled herself up, leaning heavily on Alarik. Together, they made their way out of the cave and into the Giant’s waiting palm. As they settled in, Elsa leaned against him, and was soon asleep. Alarik moved the calf out of the way and pulled at his journal, opening it to his newest entry. His finished sketch showed Elsa, sleeping much as she was then, and the image brought a smile to his face. 

………

Several days later, a stir rose through the camp as a royal wagon rolled up to the camp carrying Anna, Kristoff and baby Neta. Elsa, still limping slightly, rushed out to meet her family, and endured Anna’s chastising. Anna’s attention was quickly diverted when Alarik stepped out of Elsa’s tent as well- a grin working its way across her face. 

“New tent-mate, Elsa?” Elsa stiffened and began a flustered series of excuses, until Anna eventually bumped Elsa’s shoulder and leaned over to meet the reindeer calf who ended up with the two of them. 

“And what’s your name, little one?” Anna asked, scratching the calf under the chin.

“Beowulf,” Alarik said, rubbing the calf’s ears.

“That’s a female calf.” Kristoff pointed out, bouncing Neta in his arms. 

“So?” Elsa and Alarik answered at the same time, and Anna’s grin grew. 

“Look at you two, just like proud parents!” At that, both Alarik and Elsa flushed and stammered until Anna was doubled over with laughter. She yelped when Elsa sent a flurry of snow down her collar. Rolling her eyes, Elsa went over to retrieve Neta from Kristoff. She bounced the baby in her arms, chuckling when Neta reached out to tug on a strand of her hair. 

As Alarik watched, he blinked in confusion. For a moment, he could have sworn that he had seen Elsa holding, not baby Neta, but a different baby with red hair- the same shade of his own. 

[fic] Boxed Eden (original part)

So I was inspired by @guljerry and egged on by @borg-apologist to post this.

In 2006 I made my first nano attempt and got to 38k words before it became such a mess I quit. So this is the beginning of the first chapter to that original sci fi story and has a fuckton of biblical shit

It's both post apocalyptic and pre apocalyptic in that there's already been a "collapse" but humanity survives. There are those tribes in the oceans with their coveted technologies and the land dwellers above. When Set's lover the inhumanly strong telepath Alexander destroys Genesis and tells him to meet at the rendezvous Set has no choice but to obey, before he destroys them all.

Warnings: the biggest one is crap writing since it's 12 years old but also SERIOUS religious shit (blame my Catholic upbringing >>) and some language as well as homophobia

Alright, here goes nothing:

The sun rose, more red than it once had been, yet at the same time cooler.  The gray atmosphere swirled around the planet allowing a faint pink glimmer to break through in areas. It might have been any time of the day for those without the means to judge. Set looked at his watch covertly as he walked through the center of the town. A few murmured whispers met his ears but he ignored them as he looked for a certain building. He gave a small snort of derision from behind the cloth around his face. He'd always detested these barren primitive outposts full of nothing but horse shit and superstition. At least the larger port city had cars. Professor Galton had always held his ear when describing the lower dregs of society and their inability to comprehend the technology they envied. Galton had never been to any of the great land port cities such as Denver. Set glanced around at the dirty faces. They'd have exterminated the lot of them if they been worth the effort to waste the resources. He carefully kept away not wanting to come within the infection radius. The rampant pestilences; the old throwbacks to the Collapse had all been but eradicated amongst tribes like Set's. Those in the possession of the old technology and books. But amongst these cattle one could never be too careful. The men selected for such trading errands had to be carefully vaccinated upon departure and arrival: and Set hadn't the good fortune to get his shots before the whole thing was blown to hell.

Alex... The name haunted him. It stuck to his tongue when he tried to pronounce it. The young man who promised him heaven and brought him hell with impassioned words and a mouth no less bold. He shuddered as he approached the building. A frown crossed his face behind the cloth. The secretive garb and long cloak marked him as one of the elite; the insignia crest on his chest the sign of Genesis. However, no ungifted pig would realize that he bore the mark of a tribe supposedly eradicated. He could however, tell that people were speculating as to the nature of his physical form. That used to irk him far more when he first began. Genesis was all pure homo superior. No genetics alterations during the old technology golden age as far back as any could trace his or her ancestry. No filthy half animal mongrel would ever make it into Heaven. He'd kill for a clean bed, and dazzling crystals of light instead of some rat trap with death dancing at the ends of waxen cylinders. Still his money was better than any other's. He could buy the whole filthy town in exchange for the small orb on the back of his neck to control his migraines.

With a quick glance to make sure no one was following him, and a slight audio scan, he entered the old building. The door was wood and for a few moments he paused to caress the grainy surface. It wasn't often one encountered such a relic. Even the architects in the land dweller's port cities had enough of the old knowledge to use easy sliding titatnium entryways. He sighed. This had to be one of the most primitive places that he'd ever been to. But at least he could ensure that no one from Apocalypse or Misfits would have his location yet. Fallburg... Landworth.... whatever the hell this backwater dump was called wasn't even a blip on the radar. The door creaked slightly, normal for a wooden door, as he opened it. He found the sound entirely unpleasant. The noise outside of Genesis was the worst. The hodgepodge of primitive sounds, structural imperfections, native beasts. It was like a cacophony of animals. He twisted the disc on his earlobe to dampen the non communicative sound. The low rumble of wind, insects, animals and all the other miscellaneous claptrap ceased. He breathed a sigh of relief as he entered; his boots making no sound on the floor to his own ears.

He'd never been one of those unfortunate to be assigned to missions in the populated inner towns. Scavenging old ruins brought a certain nostalgic peace and sense of awe for all the things even they had yet to rediscover. There was a quiet solitude and a clean sterility even amongst the wreckage. As he stepped inside and the powerful smell of smoke assailed him he almost gagged. Set faltered and had to catch himself on the wall. The texture of the wall was rough and unpleasant and he almost cringed. He'd battled, he'd bled, and he'd been scavenging through ruins but his senses reeled with the smells and the gritty textures. The wall almost felt alive beneath his skin and he felt his palm pulse against the solid surface. His eyes scanned the room and didn't have to look far. Right in front of his stood a middle aged man with some sort of primitive goggles on his face. He hadn't been required to attend any special briefing on land dweller technology. He grimaced and at least said a prayer of thank the man seemed to be fully human. Set took a deep breath and steadied himself as he approached "What is this substance on your walls?" He took satisfaction as the man swallowed nervously. This was a person who knew exactly what an incorrect answer would bring about. Set smiled behind the cloth and walked forward with much more confidence.

"Well?" 

"P-paint sir. I assure you it's a very very old technology. It s-simply provides a coloring to the wall." Set nodded and mentally kicked himself for overreacting the way he did. There's nothing of interest here idiot. These people are one step above urinating in the street like primitive dogs. His lip curled as he resurveyed the room. Dull white coloring coated the walls along with some unremarkable pictures. There was wood beneath his feet and he wondered for a moment how these cities survived more than weeks in such storm ridden areas. He wondered briefly as he noted the different shades and manner of wood products if these monkeys didn't simply carve out trees to take residence in. No that wasn't entirely correct, he recalled. The outsides of the buildings clearly indicated some sort of stone masonry. He gave a curt nod looking at the man again. "Yes... definitely nothing of interest here.  I'm looking for someone." No need to further engage conversation for pointless land dweller trivia. Set twitched slightly. He wasn't entirely thrilled to be forced to meet with the man awaiting him but he had no choice. Null was the final survivor of Genesis even if he was no longer considered one of them. "There is a man," Set continued, "That is 192 cm. Approximately 72.7 kg, green eyes shade 112. black hair shade 2, Caucasian skin shade-"

"God of Storms." The soft voice interrupted him. Set turned and felt relief to see a familiar face no matter how unwelcome it would normally be. "Yes. God of ... ah... Null." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. Given a choice of death or exile Null had been the only member of the Genesis tribe since its conception to choose exile. No name no identity and no connections and life amongst the land dweller was a far worse fate than death. "I want to live." With those four words Null had forsaken any hope of redemption and chosen some unbelieving land dweller hell. Set understood the protocol that had been established, however neither he nor anyone else had needed to recall such formalities when addressing an exiled one. What the hell does it matter they're all dead anyway. His stomach felt cold and his heart rate increased a bit. Bringing the reality to the forefront at times caused him a feeling of racing anxiety and he took a breath to quell it. Null simply smiled at him; licked his lips, and turned to the man behind the desk who looked increasingly alarmed. "It's okay Ben... He's with me." The elder man nodded before busying himself with some menial task, Set assumed.  "Come." Null turned and Set took a moment to study the young man from behind as he followed him past the desk and up a narrow wooden stairway. It took some getting used to to maneuver at first but hardly challenging. Once again he longed for something more civilized. To distract himself he noted for future reference that Null, formerly God of Sacrifice, had acquired caucasian skin 58. Then ten shade shift was hardly unexpected however Set along with others of their unit had speculated to far more radical changes.

Land dwelling humans were hardly noted for their physical beauty as far as Set was concerned. Though as Set examined the smooth appearance of Null's skin and the length of his hair it occurred to him that it was possible that physically disfiguring diseases might be on the decrease after so long.  Null's musculature was nearly identical and though he smelled stronger it wasn't entirely unpleasant. Set frowned not liking the direction in which his thoughts seemed to be going. "Ahh good old aberration number five." Null turned and performed his own retinal examination. His eyes glittered with the combination of optic sensors and pigment. "Don't look so stunned Seto I could always smell it on you." he smiled "But of course this is business." He took out a small golden object from his pants and inserted the long end into a hole in the door. Set watched curiously as he turned it and opened the door. As they entered he turned his sound dampener off... just in case.

Set entered after his former teammate and grimaced when he saw still more wood. Wasn't the damn stuff an endangered resource? A large rug was carelessly tossed in the center of the room, a light blue square likely woven with primitive instruments. There was a wooden bed with white sheets that seemed big enough for two which didn't please him. The room, like the rest of the place was still lit with those damn fire sticks mounted to the walls that were splashed with more of that 'paint'. "I suppose I don't need to call you Null... at least... that is..." He really didn't want to say it. Null was perfectly aware of the situation in any case. The young man smiled again; just a small upturn of his lips.  Red 213. Set swallowed. Aberration 5 was normally treated for those willing with an easy injection. The genetic mods had long been lost. Of course they couldn't make him stop finding men attractive any more than they could the color blue, but at least sexual arousal was physically impossible. Set much preferred it that way. It was far less.... complicated.  "Just think of good old baseball, lover." Alex seemed almost beside him whispering in his ear. Set shivered and only then realized that he'd closed his eyes to savor the old memory. 

He heard Null laughing and his eyes snapped open and glared. "I trust you won't take advantage of my obvious... problem," he spat out through gritted teeth. He'd always had the impression working with him in the past that Null had always been laughing at some secret joke at his expense.  "Null is fine." He answered Set's earlier statement with amusement. "I find that around here there are far too many 'Jonathan's and far too few 'Null's."  Set walked to the bed and sat down. From what he remembered of the accommodations at comparable places this cloth bag stuffed with some fiver or another passed for "soft". "You never seemed the type to want to stand out." Conversation seemed a way to take his mind off the whirlwind of new and unpleasant experiences the last 2 days had brought him. Null chose to pull a wooden chair from under a desk in the room and sit across from him. "There's a lot you don't know about me Set." He shrugged. "We were teammates, not really friends. But I know you don't particularly enjoy small talk so let's just get to what you want."

Set took a deep breath and shut his eyes to steady himself. Of course Null had to  know what happened. But he had know way of knowing how.... why... Only Set knew that dangerous knowledge. "Alexander... that is.... God of Death..." His voice trembled and his eyes grew somewhat wide. His heart pounded again and he could feel the rush of blood allowing him to hear his own throbbing pulse. He didn't think he could force the words out after all. "I... I need to meet God of Death." He met Null's eyes reluctantly. "In Heaven."

Null sucked in a breath and almost choked. He sat very still and Set wasn't sure if the shock had stalled any of his biological functions. They both sat in silence, Set growing more uncomfortable. He knew there would be lots of unpleasant questions to follow. He almost wanted to laugh. No matter what Null asked him he had no idea how to direct the questions to the answer that would shock him to the very core. Why should he. Why should anyone? "Set?" Oh, he was laughing after all. "Set!" Two hands on his shoulders shook him hard. Trained soldiers didn't laugh hysterically for no reason. Null looked at him worried and it occurred to Set as he calmed himself down how it must look. Genesis was annihilated. One of a handful of survivors was asking for help from someone who didn't technically exist and the rendezvous point was suddenly called into play a hundred years early. And yet...if only it was that small. "Set." The young man looked at him and then looked around nervously. He sounded almost afraid. Null, Jonathan Keller, God of Sacrifice, Unit S Squad leader who had died twenty seven times and been resurrected from blood and ashes, was afraid. 

There was no other choice. Null had to know what he was getting into and right about now Set was wishing that he'd been exiled to be a fucking useless land dweller than the savior of the goddamn planet. "Alexander found It." It, being the only thing keeping the planet from dying out completely. It being the sole reason that Earth remained the only habitable planet in the solar system still orbiting the Sun whereas the smaller colonies of the outer moons had already been able to relocate to a G2V that wasn't nearly as old. It being the one thing that every tribe on the planet had absolutely swore never to seek and never to tamper with because the slightest disturbance could prematurely end life before Exodus. And Alexander wanted to blow the fucking thing up. 

Null didn't say anything while all these thoughts were once again racing through Set's mind; not for the first and certainly not for the last time since his erstwhile lover had cheerfully told him. He rubbed his temples absently feeling a phantom ache that his regulator wasn't even aware of. Set was hardly surprised by Null's next question. "Tell me Set, what does Alex plan to do with It?" Set had to control his breathing a few times. He felt that giddy madness creeping up again. "The great God of Death version? or the short version?" In spite of the gravity of the information hanging between them Null smiled. "Surprise me."

Destined

Title: Destined

Fandom: DC Comics

Relationships: WonderTrev

Warnings: n/a

A/N: Sooo....I’m really really excited for the new Wonder Woman movie coming out next month and I’m really deep into the Steve Trevor and WonderTrev trashcans...It really was only a matter of time before I did a fic like this :p 

Because - well - I’m me, I had to do a Soulmate!AU! I’m using the classic ‘Soulmates have matching Marks’ trope for this and I’m also running with the idea that the Amazons don’t get Marks and are really confused as to why this man shows up with a tattoo on his arm. 

If you’ve seen a lot of the trailers for WW you might also notice that I’ve changed some of the details to make this idea work. So just a forewarning on that!

Let me know if you wish to join my permanent taglist or wish to be tagged in certain fics!!

Permanent Taglist: @wonders-of-the-enterprise @feelmyroarrrr @igiveupicantthinkofausername @trustno1inapt221b (idk if any of you want to be tagged in any wondertrev or any non-star trek fics, but please let me know if those aren’t your cup of tea!!)

(p.s. - I’m also looking into doing some reader inserts with Steve Trevor and if anyone knows of any out there right now, please let me know!!)

Destined

Hippolyta peered up at the high walls of the armory and she drew her horse to a halt, the others behind her following suit. “The Gods gave us many gifts; one day you’ll know them all.” She looked over at the horse next to her and a small smile played along her lips. “This is where we keep them.”

This was her daughter’s first time to the armory and the excitement Diana exuded certainly reflected that.

She dismounted, waiting for Diana to come and join her before taking a hold of her smaller hand and leading her through the open doors. They walked in silence as she brought her daughter deeper into the great stone building and closer to their most prized possession. 

Finally stepping into the open-aired room, Hippolyta had to smother the smile that threatened to bloom as a result of Diana’s amazed gasp.

“It’s beautiful.” 

She nodded in agreement. She had the exact same reaction when her own mother had first shown her the sword. 

“Who would wield it?”

It had been her own dream; that one day she would step forward to remove the God Killer from it’s home. In fact, wielding it was the dream of every Amazon who was able to lay eyes on it, but, alas...

“Only the fiercest among us even could,” she answered.

Hippolyta looked down at her daughter, whose eyes were trained on the glittering weapon. She gently placed her hand over the black lines between Diana’s small shoulders.

“And that is you, Diana.”

It was her destiny.

Okay, now Steve wouldn’t exactly go out on a limb and say that the Amazons had been super hospitable towards him, but - as he flexed his biceps under the golden rope tied around his upper torso - they had been far more hospitable to him then than they were now. 

Well, at least one had been.

“So you did not mean to find our island?” The Amazonian Queen, Hippolyta, kept a measured gaze upon his kneeling form. Her intimidating presence, only made more intense by her gilded armor and fur trimmed cape, ensured his focus stayed on her and not the beautiful, brunette Angel standing several feet from him. 

The rope strained again as he took in an even breath, willing himself to refrain from rolling his eyes. She’d asked him the same questions repeatedly for some time now. To be frank, he was getting quite tired of it. “No, I didn’t. I don’t know how I got here. As I said, my plane was shot down and I hit the water. I only briefly remember waking up on the beach.” His sky blue eyes flickered over to meet Diana’s own dark brown ones. “And the next thing I know I was waking up in your healing house.” 

The silence that filled the room when he finished speaking was near deafening.

Nobody spoke. 

Nobody moved. 

All eyes stayed focused on Hippolyta; who - in turn - stayed focused on Steve. The seconds dragged on as she simply stood there, watching him, with her hands clasped in front of her. Finally, she lifted her chin a fraction. “Seeing as you cannot lie with the lasso around you -” Wait...what? “- I must admit that I believe your story. So, you are cleared on that aspect.”

He blinked, his brows scrunching minutely. On that aspect? What else was he ‘in trouble’ for? The Queen’s words should have filled him with relief; instead they filled him with worry. 

Steve didn’t get a chance to voice his question because within an instant, Hippolyta had strode forward, grabbed his left wrist, and tugged his arm forward. He only just managed to stay upright.

He grimaced when the rope bit into his arm, but she ignored it; opting instead to push the sleeve of his grimy shirt back, exposing his Mark. If he wasn’t so focused on the Queen, he would have noticed the awkward shifting and side-eyes of the women around him.

“Why do you have this?” She demanded, her sharp nails digging into his skin. 

He stared up at her in confusion. “It’s my Soulmark.”

Her head tipped to the side. “Soulmark?”

The way she said it perplexed him even more. “Yeah.” Wow, it’s like they -

“What is the meaning of it?”

- don’t even know what a Soulmark is.

Steve gaped at her in shock. “You don’t know what a Soulmark is?” A quick glance around the cavern revealed to him that the other Amazons were just as puzzled as their queen. Her hand tightening on his wrist brought his attention back to her. “It’s the way we find our Soulmates. No one really knows how the phenomenon started, but everyone gets one.”

“How?” Wow, she did not beat around the bush.

“They just appear. For some it’s when our Soulmate is born and for others it’s there when they’re born. Mine appeared when I was four years old. I was playing at the time and all of a sudden my arm itched like the dickens. I looked down and...” He twitched his arm. 

She tugged his arm again, his core muscles tensing so he wouldn’t fall over. “You are saying that you have had this since you were a child?”

“Yes.”

“This mark? You have had this specific mark since you were a boy?” She all but snarled the words at him and Steve had to focus to keep from flinching away. 

“Yes!” He implored. What the hell was this about???

Hippolyta leveled a glare at him. “Do you know what it means?”

His blond hair brushed against his forehead when he gave his head a confused shake. “Yeah, it means that my Soulmate has the sa -”

“No!” This time he finally did flinch away as she leaned closer towards his face. “Do you know what it means?”

Confusion filled him for several more seconds before the light-bulb went off. “You mean it’s symbolism?” At her curt nod, he shook his head. “All of the Marks are random, they don’t have meaning besides that a Soulmate has the matching Mark.”

With that, Hippolyta pulled away, dropping his wrist. “Come,” she demanded and strode off past him. The Amazon holding the end of the lasso pulled him to his feet and guided him after her. 

She brought them outside to where several horses were tied up. He was then hauled up onto the back of a chestnut horse and had to concentrate on not falling off of it as they rode through the stone pathways. Steve figured they rode for approximately fifteen minutes before they dismounted outside of a massive stone structure and he was pulled through the double doors.

The walk from there didn’t last long; the Queen taking them through corridors that lead up and around until they entered into an open, high-walled chamber with a dome-like, metal sculpture in the center. It was before this twisting structure that she halted, motioning for him to be brought forth. When Steve finally shuffled to her side, Hippolyta dipped her head towards the metal. 

It was then - as he really observed the sculpture - that he saw it. 

The sword. 

The focal point and reason for the structure, it stood suspended in the center. The blade was long and made from a gleaming metal - one he had no doubt created a razor sharp edge. From this distance, he could see the etching down it’s center, but he couldn’t make out what it said. Probably something in a language he couldn’t read. And the handle - his eyes widened when he saw the handle. While the end fanned out into two small points, the brassy metal twisted down into identical dragon heads that circled around the base of the blade.

He cut his eyes down, lifting his forearm and moving the fabric aside. “Oh my God,” he whispered, his eyes flicking back and forth, trying to take everything in. 

They were the same. The sword and his Mark - they were the same. Granted, the Mark was more...abstracted, but the sweeping black lines....

There was no mistaking the similarities.

“Life is killing all the time and so the goddess kills herself in the sacrifice of her own animal.” The Queen’s voice echoed about the armory. “The God Killer. Forged by Hephaestus and wielded by Zeus, it is one of our most prized possessions. For centuries, it has had it’s home here; waiting for the person who’s power is formidable enough to wield it.”

Steve turned his head in shock, stammering, “You - You don’t think that its me -”

“Hardly,” she said, cutting him off. “You are a man - a mortal. This sword has been destined for someone far more powerful.” She looked behind her - a cue - and Steve heard footsteps come up behind him. 

Diana stepped before them, and indecipherable look on her face as she met his eyes. Her golden armor glittering in the light that filtered down from above.

Once again, Steve was dumbstruck by her beauty.

“My daughter, Diana, has been destined to wield this sword since her birth. She was chosen by the Gods to do so.” Her brown eyes flickered away to look at Hippolyta. “And we have been training her in preparation for that moment.”

In one fluid motion, Diana turned around and pulled her braid to the side. 

There between her shoulders sat a mark. 

A Mark that matched his own.

A Mark that matched the sword.

Steve’s breath hitched in his chest and he fell to his knees, the action causing Diana to turn back to him. He stayed on the ground, staring up in awe at the woman he was destined for.

“It seems, Major, that that moment is now.”

Brotherly Sister Moments

Title: Brotherly Sister Moment Request:Can I get a Once Upon A Time one-shot where the male reader is Jack Frost (not the character from Rise of The Guardians, just a guy with a power over ice and snow), and could it be set in the Enchanted Forest before the curse and in Storybrooke after the curse?n the Enchanted Forest, he's Jack Frost. In Storybrooke, he's (insert male name here) Lucas. Frost is Red's real last name and Lucas is her curse last name. Their dead father was a sorcerer and Jack got his ice powers and Red didn't. Word count:2,473 Pairing: Ruby Lucas x M!Reader (Enchanted Forest) You were on your way to a small kingdom where Granny was currently the time being. You were excited, but also alert to his surroundings, but this kingdom was ruled by the great King and Queen of Snow White and Charming. Although the curiousness was still eating away at you to wonder why they wanted to know what they wanted. You wished you had a little bit more time to spend with your sister Ruby but there can't be any type of complaining when there is something up at the kingdom. Yes, they might understand that your Jack Frost who took over your fathers place to protect as many people that you could. That was until he had been killed in battle when there was a war against the ogres. As Jack was still thinking back to the time he was learning all about the powers within him that he had possessed that his sister that did not get to experience. He had made it to the doors of the castle of the kingdom of Snow and David. Once he was there he was asked by one of the "Guards/Dwarves" on what your purpose was to see the King and Queen. As you could tell by the gruffness of the voice you knew it was Grumpy right away. So you looked swiftly got off your horse and calmly raised your hands up to mean no harm in any way. "Its just me,Jack. Jack Frost." And with that said you swiftly took your hood off to show your face. Right when they noticed who it is they blink for what they couldn't believe who had been right in front of them. That was when they told the young sorcerer to follow them. (Time skip) Once you made it to the outside doors of where the meeting was being held by. You where kind of nervous because you barely know Granny, or anybody else as matter of fact. you were under the care of your father for so long that you didn't know what to do. But it was to late because Grumpy opened the two grand doors that were in front of the both of you. Once they where opened every single pair of eye where on you the instant you started to walk in. Once you stood in front of there line of view they noticed that you weren't the little boy that they used to know before. Now you were a strong man that looked like that had gone threw a lot with out any rest. You wore (f/c) top, with (s/f/c) pants, but what caught there eye was the small specks of blue in your (c/e). That was something they could probably tell something that was different. Once you sat down everyone smiled your way and then proceeded with what they where going to be doing once the curse has yet to come. Once you heard that they where sending the young princess to the other world with no magic with Pinocchio by her side. Although no one knew who was going to be protecting the young children when they escape. That was when you got an idea. A stupid, but good idea. "I'll do it." That had gotten everyone's attention once you mentioned it. " Are you positive that you can go up against the Evil Queen? Do you have the strength to go up against her, Jack? What about your sister? What about Granny?" asked Charming. "Oh, I'm positive of what i'm going to do. As for my family they are informed of what might come out of this." once said. Each, and every single person thought about strategies of get the children to the wardrobe with your protection. (Time Skip) Once Emma was born you were given the child once it was time for the plan. You looked back up to Snow and Charming when you spoke to them with so much care for the child. "I will protect the princess with my life as you both protect each other with yours. There will be no harm to this young one. Now I will put a protection layer on the door so that no one will be able to get in, but you will be able to get out." " Thank you so much Jack. For what you are doing for this kingdom. For us. For her. We are truly grateful." Snow spoke out. You gave out a curt nod and closed the door behind you and froze the entire the door, That is when you put the princess in the right position, and ran straight towards her nursery. Once you were there you had heard the guards almost near you had put Emma right in the small wardrobe. You looked right at her and spoke. "You will do the right thing Princess. Your path starts here." Then you shut the wardrobe, and you knew she was gone. That was when The Evil Queen's guards came in. You raised both of your hands and blasted the guards with a shot of ice once they came near you. Yet you never noticed the other two guards coming up behind you. That was when you felt some one hit you with the hilt of there sword. That was when the two guards grabbed yo by the arms and made you sit on your knees. Once they did the Evil Queen came in, and looked right at you. "Oh its ice boy no wonder you were a good fight to get threw with. Now, tell me where is the baby?" You smirked and looked at her, "Evil will never win. You must know there is always good in your heart Regina. So goodness will always rise to victory. And Snow and Charming will gt there daughter back and get there happily ever after." "Oh, Jack," she laughs while saying your name, "the lot of you aren't getting a happy ending I am." And with that you were engulfed in purple smoke, and everything was gone. (StoryBrooke) As always it was a little busy in Granny's Diner, so you where kind of picking up the last bit of dishes that where next to a young woman and a little kid. Yet even though the girl seemed to be around your age until Ruby came over to actually annoy the hell out of you with what she where's. Like seriously, your a male and you would like to see this girl to at least show a little decency to the people that come in here. You would always agree with Granny with what she has to say because there are always children inhere like come on. " Hey (Y/m/n) it's your turn to actually wait the tables. I'll clean." Ruby said. You looked at her then gave her a small nod and went to the table with the boy and blond girl. When you noticed it was Henry, yet you never recognized this young women. That is when you spoke up. "Hello Henry, Ma'am. My name is (y/m/n). I am here to take your guys order what would you guys like?" Henry smiled at you but the woman that was sitting across from Henry kept on starring at your eyes. That was the problem you really were a self conscious kind of guy when it kind of came to your eyes. But what surprised you was what she said. "Your eyes are very unique." "Um, thanks. Do you know what you want?" you asked again and with that said they order. (Time Skip) Once you were done you were finally talking to Ruby again. Its like you guys were super close. But you couldn't really put a finger on it. You felt like you knew who she was back the, but you really couldn't figure this one out. You bot were talking about how the new comer Emma was a bit to suspicious of what was going on of this place. But it has been over about a couple of weeks since she came here. Until you noticed a couple cars speed past the diner. You looked at Ruby and asked her a simple question. "Do you know what's going on Ruby?" "Not that i know of," she spoke back. "I will be right back. I'm going to go check it out." once you said that you were out the door, and never giving Ruby the chance to say anything back. Once roaming the streets of Storybrooke you really couldn't find anything that was odd. You really loved to find things that where out of place, but you just couldn't. As you walked right passed the clock tower a warm breeze had went right passed you like an invisible vale was lifted off the whole town. But once you took one step you collapsed onto the pavement from how much pain you were in at the moment. Your body felt like a whole bunch of needles were piercing your body from the inside out. And the memories of your dearest sister Red, and your dear Granny, but you couldn't handle this pain any longer. You let out a yell of agony, of pure pain that can have anyone know how painful it must be. Once you let out that agonizing yell you heard running footsteps and people calling for your name. But they sounded distant like they were at the other side of town and yelling from there. But once you opened your eyes you noticed it was Red that was right next to you with panic written all over her face. "(Y/m/n) what's wrong? What's happening?Do you need-" Ruby was cut off mid-sentence. "Get me... to the ....hospital..... Ruby," you said trying to breath, "NOW!" Once again you yelled out in pain as if everything was being pin pricked with ice. Once you got in her car you were taking in hallow breathes and you were now seeing black dots from all the pain you were going throw. You looked at Ruby and you told her to "step on it" and once you said it she did. But you had closed your eyes for what felt like a minute turned into more than that. Once you opened them again you were already there at the front entrance. But you could barely move anything now from how numb felt. Ruby took one glance at you and opened the car door. "I'll be right back ok," she told you, "I'm going to go get some help." As she left you knew you had to get out of the car. This had happened before and you need to get out. So you did. You hauled yourself out of the car and made a good distance from the hospital and you. Laying down while you are looking to the sky you knew what would happen. You were prepared. Trained your whole life by your father. Once you felt that sharp pain come back it hit you full force. Like a train hitting a wall at top speed. That was when you let your powers out. you let them run free. Ice and snow where everywhere, and once that pain was calmed it was over. But the only thing was you were passed out in the middle of the road from how much power that had went threw you. As Ruby was walking out with nurses and Dr.Whale she looked back to to the car where she had last seen you and you were not there. That was when she heard one of the nurses yell out. "He's over there." Once Ruby looked over to where they were headed to she noticed that you were laying on your back unconscious. She couldn't handle it you are her brother and she doesn't want to lose you. She felt someone's hand on her shoulder once she looked back she noticed it was Mary Margaret.She walked into the waiting arms of her friend and wept for her brother to be ok again.        After they brought him into the hospital and set him up and done test. They figured out that once that the curse was lifted your powers came back full force, and without any warning either. But the only down fall was that you had to stay for a couple nights from how bad your bowers went. Ruby had never left your side, only to use the restroom and to call Granny and give her updates on how you were doing.      It had been three days and you finally woke up. Ruby was outside talking on the phone still but she didn’t know that you were awake yet. So one she had said her farewells to she walked in to your room slowly and closed the door quietly. Once she turned around she noticed that you were looking at the outside window. Then she finally spoke up.   “You know I never knew that you would probably ever wake up again,” exclaims Ruby.   You chuckled and looked right at her and spoke up, “I know it must have been scary to see, this has happened before.”   “It’s happened before?” she asked with a bit of concern laced in her voice.  “Uh, yes. When i was fathers apprentice it had happened once when my magic was out of control. Now that it happened again here i can start training myself for whatever happens.” you had explained.   It was silent again until Ruby broke that silence.   “(Y/n) would you ever leave us again? Granny and I? Would you leave us both to train and never come back?”   “I will never leave you both because in the Enchanted Forest I was Jack Frost, and here I’m (y/n) Lucas. Family stick together. Threw thick and thin. I’m your brother and i will not leave you like i did last time” You said once you smiled at her. She returned it with one of her own and that was all that went threw the both of you. A well day for a brotherly sister moment. But someday's they have there downfalls.

Chapter two: Intruder 

The chapter was again proofread by @haro-whumps and your comments had me wheezing! They were amazing! It was such a delight to finish the edits <3 Thank you so much <3 <3

Tag list: @broken-horn @finder-of-rings  @haro-whumps  @voidwhump2  (if you don’t want to be tagged in this pls let me know)

CW: giant spider, dehumanization of a fictional minority, degrading language, bullying/ discrimination based on one's appearance,  mutilation of a pet spider (very briefly), 

Heat thrummed through Gideon’s bones, pulsing hotter than the torrid sun, and throbbed in unison with his building headache. His patience had shriveled up like dried fruit as the horrible lavender scent clung to his hair, skin, and clothes, making him dizzy.

It became stronger on the village outskirts, he realized as he hurried after his director. The man ascended the crooked stone staircase effortlessly, his moss-green robe billowing behind him and spear swinging in its quiver. He did not slip even once on the tiny steps that wound through the thick underbrush to who-the-hell-knew-where. All while he rambled on about how disciplinary work encouraged the growth of one’s character.

A twig got caught in Gideon’s black bushy hair, pulling painfully on his roots as it broke off with a snap. It was going to be a freaking nightmare to fiddle all those shitty branches and leaves out of his hair later.

He was seconds away from losing his barely-held composure. The only thing stopping him from yelling at his teacher’s back, was that he really, really could not risk to get kicked out of this academy. He’d come to this godforsaken village to learn how to fight and survive in the forest, not become some obedient little soldier boy, but even so he wasn’t going to get booted yet. And certainly not after only five days.

So he kept quiet. If he had to play the director’s errand boy for a day, so damn be it!

 “Ah, here we are. Finally. My dear friend’s farm. Tell me, young Gideon, is it not simply beautiful?”

“‘S okay.”

Granted, the house did look cozy, resting encircled by giant roots with its warm brick walls, but those gigantic snails everywhere sent a shudder down his spine. If he had to touch those slimy monsters he would throw a fit, but the house’s sliding doors opened before he could utter a protest.

A fine-boned, elderly woman emerged, followed by a huge man with a greying beard.

 A boy, probably his own age but way shorter, held the door open for them, seemingly waiting for more people to come out. His big green eyes were cast on the floor.

The older woman’s lips curled into a crooked smile as she caught sight of the director, whose whole face had lit up.

“Moira. My darling. Please do not tell me you are about to leave?! Not when I looked forward to seeing your beautiful face again.”

Gideon suppressed a gag. The woman crossed her arms, smile growing sharper, but her blue eyes twinkled warmly as she spoke.

“You’re charming as ever, Eric.”

The man behind her huffed, stepping closer. “Also happy ‘ter see ya, Eric.”

“Oh rival, how could you not? Since-“

The director launched into one of his speeches but Gideon’s focus snapped to the girl that stepped out the door, right behind a blonde woman. She wore a tight black romper, translucent blouse hanging of her thin shoulders and her fancy getup alone made her stick out from the other villagers, but what really caught his attention was her face. Iits left side was oddly deformed, her pale skin creased like a wrinkled silk sheet, leaving her left eye smaller than the other. She mouthed something to the boy, smiling, earning a smile from him in turn.

“Ah yes may I introduce: Gideon, my newest student.”

Having lost most of the adults’ conversation Gideon tuned back just in time to give them a curt nod.

“Hi.”

“I will send him to you after the feast then, to come and get the mucin salve once you finish it.”

Oh great, he really just got downgraded to an errand boy.

They descended the stairs, lined up one after another on the narrow path, the short boy right in front of him, followed the strange girl. He had avoided Gideon’s eyes as he squeezed past him, careful not to touch, probably scared off by his uniform. The school’s emblem, embroidered on his stainless white shirt, proudly declared him a scout in training. Deadly. Fearless. The little farm boy definitely did better not to mess with an insect slayer.

The girl came to an abrupt halt, frozen in the woodland’s shadows before it gave way to the dusty hill road, and Gideon nearly collided with the farm boy’s back.

That’s when he heard it.

A primal, bone chilling hiss tore through the hot afternoon air, rattling through his very core. Every hair on his body stood, muscles tensing, on edge just like his fraying nerves. He knew that sound. Even though he’d heard it only once before. On the crusade from last-stand-berlin to the village, where he had seen the beast it belonged to lurk on the riverside, watching them. He would never forget a spider’s hiss. Not ever.

And there one stood, right in front of him, its eight thorny legs towering high above its ugly head. The spider’s giant yaws worked, rubbed against each other in agitation. Its razor sharp fangs glistened in the sun.

A man sat atop its massive, hairy body, scar-faced and clad in a straw cape fastened to a beetle’s shell that armored his left shoulder, shimmering in iridescent hues of blue and green. He did not smile as he glanced down at them. A silent challenge was edged in the hard lines of his rugged face.

The air was so brittle it felt like any moment it could snap, and if it didn’t, Gideon might.

That’s when the director shouldered past him, spear drawn and followed by the other man. Both planted themselves right in front of him and the others.

The intruder’s scar stretched with the rise of his eyebrows, eyes slitting in a lazy grin.

 “Woah, there. Hold your horses pals. Before someone does somethin’ he regrets later.”

“That a threat?” the bearded man grumbled.

Moira ducked past her husband, face twisted in a furious scowl. “Oh, something other than riding in another village on a damn wolf-spider you mean?!” The corded muscle in her boney arm flexed, bulging, as she shook a fist at the man, unveiling a wrath behind her primly dressed form that no one would have wanted to fall victim too.

He, however, just leaned closer, smile stretching into a shark-tooth grin. “Gutsy, are we? I like that.”

Eric stepped up beside her, spear held high in a white knuckled grip. “How could you make it past our InD-Units with this monstrosity?! God show you mercy if you did something to-”

“What do you think I am?!” the intruder drawled, “A monster?! Only reason I got past your units was this baby here.”

Gideon had to stand on his tiptoes to catch a glance of the small round device that sat embedded into the spider’s head, partly hidden by the man’s straw cape. A little red light blinked in a steady rhythm above three buttons, which the man was careful not to touch as he tapped his knuckles softly against it. 

“Renders her absolutely obedient. See?”

He unsheathed a knife from a holster strapped around his leg and its steel blade shimmered as he rammed it in one of the spider’s eyes, plopping it out with a nauseating plitch. The spider endured its master’s violation in utter stillness, only twitching its yaws, creating an awful hiss in their never ceasing movement.

 “She’s docile as a lamb.”

“And how exactly is that supposed to work?” the girl inquired, meeting the man’s stare with a calculatingly cold composure. His mouth twitched.

“Man, what do I know, Missy?! I’m a mutant hunter not a scientist.” He leaned closer. Venom spiked his words, dripped like acid from his tongue. “My expertise lies in chasing down freaks.”

The condescendingly cruel way in which he spoke, wielding words like a weapon meant to pierce and twist where it hurt most, reminded Gideon of his father. How dare this interloper compare someone to mutant monstrosities. Anger welled up in his chest, buzzed down his legs and made them move, planting himself right between the girl and the intruder.

“Tsk. Mutant hunter?! You’ve ever really seen one? Or are you just talk?!”

“Gideon.”, the director warned, squeezing his shoulder warningly as he tried to pull him back, but the intruder just gave them a wry smile.

“No no. Let's hear him out. Have you ever seen one boy?”

“Yes. There hideous monstrosities.  And I’m going to find and kill every single of one of them.”

The intruder burst into violent laughter, shoulders shaking and head thrown back, nearly losing his balance under the force of it.

“You do have guts, I give you that. But also lots to learn. Some barely look like monsters.  Just small and weak. But ugly, that’s the whole lot of them.” His eyes wandered back to the girl. The blonde woman beside her gasped, searching for words to shot back, but falling silent as she noticed the girls expression. 

Red blotches burned on her face, rage twisting it into a vicious scowl. The afternoon sun set her copper curls on fire. Ready to spew fury and flames, she opened her mouth but the short boy was faster, small voice piping up.

“Char- Charlotte is… is no- no mutant and, uhm, and she’s neither ugly nor weak. And pe-people who talk about killing others for no- no reason are… They’re the- the real monsters.”  

His fingers fiddled with his shorts as he spoke, twisting in the dark, worn linen as he stumbled over his words and his big green eyes jumped from the rocky street to the spider’s fangs, lingering on the intruder’s face before landing on  Gideon. His eyes narrowed as he all but spat the last words in Gideon’s face.  

“The hell you just said?!” Gideon’s nostrils flared. How dare this little runt run his mouth about things he didn’t know shit about!

Crossing his arms in an attempt to shield himself from Gideon’s anger, the boy forced himself to hold Gideon’s furious, wide eyed stare.  “Y- you heard me.”

Gideon could feel a vein pulsing in his throat, pumping liquefied fire through his veins. His hands twitched.

“I give you one chance to take. That. Back.”

The boy’s trembling fingers dug in his forearms, knuckles whitening as he lifted his chin. “Never.”

A roar tore from Gideon’s throat as he leapt forward. Rage tore through him like a wildfire, ready to ignite everything his fist would come in contact with.

In that frozen second between charge and impact, the boy’s feet moved. His body tilted to the side. Dodged Gideon’s fist. Effortlessly. He bounced back. Landed on the first stone step and uncrossed his arms. Ready to defend himself.

That little runt had nerves! Gideon broke into a sprint.

“You sure are good at dodging!” His fist swung back. “Try to handle this!”

Gideon’s muscles flexed. But a strong hand stopped him, holding his wrist in an iron grip before he could smash his fist down.

Craning his neck, he looked up at the old man’s stern face.

Fuck. He is fast?!

“Looks like ya still got lots t’ learn about respect ‘n self-discipline, young man.”

He released Gideon’s hand and turned to the other boy. His grey eyes glistened like ice shards, sharp as his words. “Same goes for you. Ya disappointed me, Sahar.”

Wincing, Sahar flinched back. His big eyes glistened with unshed tears, blinking up at the man.

“Wh-wha- what do you mean?”

“I haven’t trained ya to run off ‘n start mindless fights. I tried to teach ya discipline ‘n how to survive these woods.” His voice did not waver, bringing more to tears to green eyes.

“Someone's a stuck up.” the intruder mumbled, earning the older womans venomous glare. 

“But- but I didn’t- he was the one who-“

“Enough,” the man thundered. “Don’t argue with me. If ya want a beatin’ so bad I’ll give ya one later. And now back t’ the farm. Ya grounded for the week. No fest. No nothin’!”

Sahar shrank under the man’s anger, head ducked between his shoulders as the first teardrop fell. It trickled down his trembling yaw, painting a glistening path on his pale olive skin.

His voice was reduced to a shaky exhale as he nodded, eyes fixed on the dirty ground. “Yes, sir.”

Sahar stormed up the stairs and vanished behind thick bushes, as the intruder burst into a new laughing fit.