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swanqueeneverafter · 5 years

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After The Sunset, Pt.4

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. Present. (Regina's eyes open as she lays in bed. Turning her head to the left she sees her wife slumbering beside her. Peeling off the bed covers, Regina stands and walks over to the window. Unbeknownst to the brunette, Emma is also awake and watches as her wife opens the curtains to stand at the window. Kicking off the bed covers herself, Emma pads over to stand beside Regina.) Emma: "Surveying your kingdom?" Regina: "Just admiring the view. And it'd be a Queendom, if anything. Our Queendom, in fact." Emma: (Yawning:) "I'm more than happy with keeping things simple. You're the Mayor and I'm the Sheriff." Regina: "Agreed." Emma: (Watches her wife a moment:) "So, is this what you used to do during the curse?" Regina: (Nods:) "Every morning. Before Henry, before you, there was only this." Emma: (Slipping her hand into Regina's:) "Sounds lonely." Regina: "So lonely I could barely stand it." Emma: "Good thing I came and broke the curse then, huh?" (Regina smiles and squeezes Emma's hand before releasing it and heading to her closet. Emma frowns slightly, giving the town one last glimpse, then walking away.) Wonderland. Past. (Tiana stands alone in her gardens as her mother addresses their guests.) Eudora: “Ladies, gentlemen, honored guests. My daughter, Tiana, and I would like to welcome you to our home. Please look around. We will begin the auction shortly.” (The crowd parts to allow Eudora through to join her daughter.) Tiana: “Look at them, picking through our stuff like vultures. It's humiliating.”

Drizella: (From across the way:) “Oh, it is, isn't it?” Tiana: “Drizella. I didn't know we invited the nouveau riche.” Drizella: “Emphasis on ‘riche.’ I have to admit, I was intrigued when I heard of your little fÃªte de faillite. But it seems that everything of real value is already gone. (Looks down at an item on the table:) Ooh, wait. (Points at it:) What's this?” Tiana: “That shouldn't be out here. (Picking up the item:) It's not for sale.” Drizella: “So it is worth something.” Tiana: “Only to me. It was my father's. He earned it during the war, a reward for his heroism. I don't know how it got out here.” Drizella: “Too bad that Daddy's no longer alive to save you and your mother from ruin. It's so sad.” (Smiling, she walks away.) Tiana: (As Eudora approaches:) “That's it, Mother. I can't watch our lives be torn apart like this.” Eudora: “We have no choice, Tiana. If we don't earn enough money today, we may have to sell the castle.” Tiana: “But this is our home. We'll be tossed out onto the street?” Eudora: “The King has raised taxes on everyone in the land at the behest of that so-called Queen of Hearts. I swear, under her guidance, he lines his pockets while his people starve.” Tiana: (Sighs:) “I thought my life would be different, filled with balls and romance.” Eudora: “Oh, Tiana, this is not what I wanted for you. If only you could find a prince. With all the chaos in the land, it's made heroes so scarce.” Tiana: (Remembers something:) “Maybe I can. I think I have an idea of where to start looking. Don't worry, Mother. I will find a good man, brave and heroic like father was, a prince who will save us.” Elsewhere In Wonderland. (Will Scarlett and a troop of the Queen of Hearts soldiers walk through the forest.) Will: “Well, this is just lovely, isn't it? Tromping through the cold with you lads. Anyone know a good marching song? No? I don't know what I enjoy more, the frostbite or the conversation.” Troop Leader: “Stop talking.” Will: “Well, I'd like to stop walking, but the Queen of Hearts ordered me to, so-” Troop Leader: (Grabbing Will around the throat:) “Listen, Knave. We're hunting the most dangerous criminal in Wonderland. Killed plenty of men, women, children. Been evading my men for weeks. Trained soldiers. So tell me, how are you going to help us?” Will: “By paying attention.” Troop Leader: “To what?” Will: “For one, the campfire you're standing in.” (The Troop Leader looks down to see a campfire still smouldering at his feet.) Troop Leader: (Releases Will. To his men:) “We're close. Spread out. And show no mercy. Because you'll get none from this monster. (A twig snaps in the distance:) There! Split up! With me!” (The soldiers split up in different directions, chasing after the hooded figure. Will waits for the soldiers to run past him before turning off the beaten path, and doubling back.) Will: “You're getting good at that.” Anastasia: (Stepping out from behind a tree and dropping her hood:) “I had a good teacher. So, what’s the latest news?” Will: “Well, let’s see. Your mother is still frantic to know your whereabouts, your sister sends her love. Oh, and she’s found herself a prince.” Anastasia: (Impressed:) “Good for Drizzy.”

Will: “What else... what else... Ah yes, the Queen of Hearts says you’re a murderer and if any one of her soldiers find you, they’re to kill you on sight.” Anastasia: “A murderer? All this because I flirted with her husband?” Will: “The Red King isn’t her husband, Ana. She’s just an advisor as far as I know. He’s the Queen’s meal ticket. Her influence over him keeps her powerful. So, if a young girl like you were to become his wife-” Anastasia: “She’s afraid of me?” Will: “You could say that. Either way, I’ve managed to keep you safe from her clutches up until now, but things have changed.” Anastasia: “Yeah, I noticed you joined the hunting party.” Will: “Look, at the moment, the Queen has only asked for my help in finding you. So I can act like I’m hunting you down while still helping you evade capture. But things will be out of my control once she orders me to find you.” Anastasia: (Confused:) “I’m not sure I follow?” Will: (Sighs:) “The Queen has my heart.” Anastasia: (Frowns:) “You’re in love with the Queen? She’s old enough to be your-” Will: “No! God no. I mean she literally has my heart in her possession. It’s a long story, but I don’t have time to tell you everything right now. We need to get you out of Wonderland.” Anastasia: “You mean leave? I can’t leave.” Will: (Not listening:) “Now where is that little bugger?” Anastasia: “Will, I’m serious. I can’t leave. What about my mother, my sister?” Will: “You don’t have a choice! Look, if the Queen finds out I’m helping you, she’ll order me to kill you, then she’ll kill me herself. Now where is that bloody rabbit?!” White Rabbit: (Appearing behind them:) “You called?” Will: “Ah, finally. Anastasia, this is the White Rabbit, he’s your ticket out of Wonderland.” Anastasia: (A little taken aback:) “Er... lovely to meet you.” White Rabbit: “Charmed, I’m sure.” Will: “He can burrow a portal to any land, any realm you choose.” Anastasia: (Coming back to herself:) “I am NOT leaving!” Will: “Listen to me, will yer? Nobody knows how hard it is leaving their family behind more than me, all right? That’s how I got into this bloody mess to begin with. (At Anastasia’s look:) I have a sister myself, her name’s Alice. I came to Wonderland to try and find a cure for what separates us and all I found was... I chose the wrong path, all right? I chose the easy way out and now I’m stuck here without a heart and I’ll never get back to Alice.” Anastasia: “If running from your problems lead you to your current predicament, then how can you possibly ask me to make the same decision?” Will: “Because you still have a choice. At least, even if you’re alone, you’ll still be alive.” (There is a long silence between them as Anastasia weighs her options.) Anastasia: (Finally turning to him:) “Come with me.” Will: “You what?” Anastasia: “Come with me. Then I won’t be alone.” Will: (Considers briefly, then shakes his head:) “No, I can’t. If I don’t return, the Queen will know I betrayed her and crush my heart into dust.” Anastasia: “Not if she doesn’t have your heart. (Looks to the White Rabbit:) You can burrow a portal to anywhere, right?” White Rabbit: “Well, within reason, yes.” Anastasia: (To Will:) “And you know where the Queen keeps your heart, yes?” Will: (Shrugs:) “In her vault with all the others, I’d suspect.” Anastasia: “Well then it’s settled. Tonight, the White Rabbit and I will retrieve your heart and then you’ll be free to come with me.” Will: “You’re mad.” Anastasia: “Listen, you saved my life, right? So give me the chance to save yours. If we can’t be with our families, that doesn’t mean we should both be alone.” Will: (After a long moment’s pause:) “Misery loves company, eh?” Anastasia: (Beams:) “That’s the spirit!” Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. Present. (Regina is in the kitchen baking when she hears Emma calling for her.) Regina: (Calling out:) "I'm in the kitchen!" (Regina turns and places a tray of turnovers into the oven. Emma enters just as Regina is bent over.) Emma: (Catches herself staring, clears her throat:) "I can see that. Baking again, huh?" Regina: "There's a fundraiser coming up and I'm trying a little twist to my turnover recipe." Emma: (Taking a seat at the counter:) "Is that with or without the sleeping draft this time?" Regina: (Setting the timer:) "Very amusing." Emma: "'Gina... I think we need to talk."

(Regina stiffens then slowly straightens, turning to face Emma while leaning against the counter.) Regina: (Calmly:) "All right." Emma: "Could you... maybe come a little closer?" Regina: (Awkwardly:) "O-of course." Emma: "See, this is what we need to talk about. Why are you so nervous around me?" Regina: (Scoffs:) "I'm not nervous. I'm a queen. Queens do not get nervous." Emma: "Yeah and no more false bravado, okay? Just... talk to me." Regina: (Looks down:) "All right. What do you want to talk about?" Emma: "Us! I want to talk about what's happening between us. I can feel you pulling away from me somehow." Regina: (Looks up at her, quickly:) "I'm not! A-at least I'm not trying to." Emma: "Then what is it? Ever since Henry left, there's been like this... air between us. And I think it's time we cleared it." Regina: (Nodding:) "You're right. (Removing her apron:) Of course you're right. (Taking a seat opposite:) But I think it may have started before Henry left." Emma: "Well, I didn't want to make it sound worse but-" Regina: "No, it's... it's been building for awhile now and it's my fault." Emma: "Regina, whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that." Regina: (Taking a slow, deep breath:) "Ever since the idea of Henry leaving home came up... I've felt a little..." Emma: (Helpfully:) "Scared?" Regina: "Anxious." Emma: "Okay, anxious. Anxious about what, exactly?" Regina: "A-about a lot of things, I guess. About whether Henry chose the right college or... or what it would be like here without him." Emma: (Nods:) "When it was just the two of us, you mean." Regina: "It's silly." Emma: "No. No, it's not silly if something's bothering you, Gina. (After a long moment's silence:) Is that why you've been keeping busy? Cause you're unsure of how things will be now that it's just the two of us?" Regina: (Lets out a deep breath and then just says what's on her mind:) "I'm afraid that now Henry's gone, you might not find the idea of spending so much time together all that exciting." Emma: (Leans back in her chair at this revelation:) "Woah. What?" Regina: "A huge part of why we got together was our mutual love for our son. Protecting him and our family. Now that he's gone and there are no more monsters to fight... I just thought that eventually, you'd find out that I'm not all that fun to be around." Emma: (Scoffs:) "What are you talking about?" Regina: "It's true. If you take a moment and think about all the things we actually have in common outside of Henry, there's not much that we agree on.” Emma: “That’s not-” Regina: “I'm a nerd, okay? There. I said it. I enjoy my job as Mayor. I enjoy the paperwork and negotiating and organising events. Whereas you-" Emma: "I like to go with the flow and see how things turn out?" Regina: "To put it mildly, yes." Emma: "OK, all right, I'll give you that one. But that's hardly cause for concern. Gina, our differences are what make us work. You like dramas and I like comedies, but we both come together and watch a good romantic comedy when the choice is there." Regina: "I suppose." Emma: "And, newsflash, I can't cook! I’m awful at it! That doesn't mean I hate the fact that you can and happen to be a total badass at it. I love that about you. I love that you're an uptight nerd!" Regina: (Chuckles:) "And I love that you're a hot mess!" Emma: "Well there you go! (Both women are laughing now:) My god, Regina, you do remember the first time we met right? The first few days we got to know each other?" Regina: (Nods:) "We couldn't stand each other." Emma: "Right, and look how we ended up. Before the curse broke, before I even believed in magic, I was attracted to you. In part it was about how great a life you'd managed to provide for Henry. But more so I believe it was about who you are. Smart, independent, passionate in everything you do. I saw a lot of what I wanted to be like reflected in you." Regina: "Oh, please. After everything you've been through in your life? You're sensational, Emma. You're twice as strong as I am." Emma: "No, that's not true. But I can tell you that since I've known you, since being with you. I've become stronger than I ever thought possible. I can't imagine spending another day of my life without seeing your face or hearing your voice." Regina: "And I don't know what I would've done if you'd stayed in New York. Sending you away was the hardest thing I've ever had to do." Emma: (Reaching across the table and taking Regina's hand:) "I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever. You got that?" Regina: (Smiles, tears falling:) "I do. I love you, so much, Emma." Emma: "I love you, too. (For a long moment, the two women sit silently, just holding each other's hand looking at each other:) So, now that that's settled. Do you think I could have one of those chocolate chip cookies?" Regina: (Smiles broadly:) "With a glass of milk? (Emma nods as Regina leans in to softly kiss her wife:) Coming right up."

Wonderland. Past. (With the help of the White Rabbit, Anastasia finds herself inside the vault of the Queen of Hearts.) Anastasia: (Looking up at all the drawers:) "Lovely. Now, which one of these drawers contains the Knave's heart? (Reading the codes on each drawer:) 3H, 7S... what is this? (Thinks:) Oh! It's a deck of cards. So three of hearts, seven of spades. Now K... no K would be the King. S-s-so what's the Knave? He'd be the... (Sees a drawer marked JH:) Jack-of-all-Trades." (Anastasia moves forward, opens the drawer and removes a small chest from inside it. Opening the chest we see a heart inside. Quickly, Anastasia tucks the chest into her bag and makes her way out of the vault.) Castle Corridor. (Hoping to escape back the way she came, Anastasia quickly moves along the corridor before turning a corner and bumping into someone.) Anastasia: "Oh! Sorry, I-" Red King: "It's you." Anastasia: "Your Majesty I-" Red King: "I thought I'd never see you again. Since the ball, there's not a day that’s passed where I haven't thought of you." Anastasia: "I don't understand... the Queen of Hearts, she's-" Red King: "She sees you as a threat, yes. I never believed her lies about you." Anastasia: "Then why haven't you stopped her?" Red King: "Because I've become too weak to do anything about it. Her influence over me and my men has become too great." Anastasia: "But you're the King, surely you can order her banished or something?" Red King: (Chuckles:) "Ah, there's something about you, girl, such spirit. The life you're in, it isn't the one you were meant for, is it?” Anastasia: “The life I want is to be with my mother and sister. I’ve been robbed of that at the Queen’s order... and by your cowardice.” Red King: (Shakes his head:) “No. I can tell you were meant for much more than that.” Anastasia: “It's all I need.” Red King: “Noble. Such nobility has been in short supply in this castle for so long. (He motions for her to follow him and they enter a room containing the crown jewels:) What if instead of running away into the night, you stayed here and helped me fix this Kingdom. I have been searching for a queen, and you fit the bill. (Moving to the cabinet, the King reaches up and removes a crown from its cushion:) What you have goes far beyond your beauty. What you have is what is most elusive: the drive to overcome any hardship. (Gently placing the crown atop Anastasia’s head as she looks at herself in the mirror:) To make those around you better, stronger than they truly are. That is someone the people of Wonderland deserve as their Queen, and that is what I desire at my side. Marry me, and all that was once yours will be returned to you, plus so much more.”

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

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fathersonholygore · 6 years

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USA’s The Purge Episode 1: “What is America?” Directed by Anthony Hemingway Written by James DeMonaco

* For a recap & review of the next episode, “Take What’s Yours” – click here

We open on what looks like a cult-like commune. A girl named Penelope (Jessica Garza) remains there in the name of her parents, “on the anniversary of their giving.” Her brother Miguel (Gabriel Chavarria) is elsewhere in the city at Kantrow rehab facility. He’s trying to find his sister, but she recently checked out. Miguel’s a Marine, who’s come home for Purge Night. A woman at the facility lets him look at her discharge info. He sees the name Henry Bodreaux signed on the release. We’re also able to see the year is 2028. There’s also Jane (Amanda Warren), heading off to work on Purge Night. Her mother Lorraine (Deneen Tyler) wants her to stay in hospital with her, the safest place. Her daughter refuses. “Commencement” is looming and the city’s ready to shut down for the evening, so Jane gets going to the office. Rick (Colin Woodell) and Jenna (Hannah Emily Anderson) are a bourgeois married couple. On Purge Night, for them, it’s a night out with the other bourgeois elites who are able to live without worry for the evening. Because everywhere else people are boarding their windows, buying up ammunition and survival supplies, and they’re preparing either to protect themselves/their homes, or go out hunting. In a seedy neighbourhood, Miguel chases down a man looking for information about Bodreaux. The worried brother can’t “wait another hour,” he’s getting shit done before the Purge even begins. Not like he’s doing any killing. Well, not yet. Who knows how far he’ll go after his sister’s cryptic message. On the 38th floor of a building, Jane and her co-worker Mark (Adam Stephenson) are locked down for the entire duration of the Purge. It’s a cushy office, plus they’re there to work, right? Shouldn’t be an issue. What we’re seeing is the rampant capitalist urge of these people, who can’t even take the night off when the rest of America’s burning, they’ve got to get in every last dollar! “We are the scarred, the beaten, the souls irreparably damaged,” Tavis (Fiona Dourif) tells her cult followers. They all put on their hoods and head out into the garden behind her. Then they all board a blue bus together. Wonder where they’re headed. Jenna and Rock are seeking to build housing for the “less fortunate,” which is why they’re snobbing around at a big party with elites. The couple claims they’re not rich, yet they’ve got crazy security on their home while the rest of the neighbourhood has to resort to hammers, nails, and plywood. Either way, they’re hoping this Purge Night will help them help themselves business wise. At the office, Jane and the team get a call from their boss, Don Ryker (Billy Baldwin). He’s called to tell them about big bonuses if they close a big deal during the evening. This gets everybody excited, as well as the fact Jane’s brought good booze for them to share. Typical bunch of financial vultures. Rick and Jenna arrive at the Stanton party. We begin getting a sense they’re really willing to sell their souls for what they want— glimpses of a recent night out suggest their morals might not be altogether pure. Either way, their one focus in being at that party is to climb that social ladder. Later, we’re given glimpses of Lila Stanton (Lili Simmons) having a threesome with the married couple. She’s the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Stanton, and this adds a compelling layer to the mystery. In an abandoned building, Miguel’s taken to look for Bodreaux. They meet a couple hopeful Purgers keeping a young woman on drugs chained up for their “Purge dessert” later on. Except mentioning Henry only makes the dudes suspicious. This puts him in a fight, though his Marine instincts get him out quick, and he’s able to help the lady get free of her chains. She actually knows Penelope and where she’s gone. On the blue bus, everyone’s preparing to “escape the pain” and head into “the invisible.” A great sign, not at all unsettling. The news reporters are preparing to get whatever coverage they can manage without getting slaughtered in the streets. Up in the office, Jane’s got a secret. She’s secretly messaging somebody, going downstairs despite the other floors being unsecured. Past the maintenance area at a door she meets a woman, someone who’s going to be Purging. And they’ve got a transaction to make. Jane’s hiring herself an assassin. Miguel continues his search finding the cultists who confirm Penelope – “Sister Penny” – is one of them. Miguel and his sister’s parents were killed on Purge Night years before. He finds out Penelope’s being “Purged upon.” She’s being sent out to sacrifice herself— suicide cult by Purge. Creepy shit. At the party, Jenna talks to one of the maids, Catalina (Paulina Gálvez) briefly. They discuss the Purge, how Jenna doesn’t like it but is there to do business with Albert Stanton (Reed Diamond). The wife, Ellie Stanton (Andrea Frankle), seems like an awful woman. She’s all about the NFFA – the New Founding Fathers of America – and so is her husband. All those people there are Purge supporters, “the great liquidator of our time.” An interesting line as Ellie says “we made this country great.” Very timely. Everyone at the party’s got to stay all night, too. Given it’s Purge Night. It could get wild inside. They all get masks of various serial killers, whom the people worship as those who “Purged before it was legal.” Terrifying. Perfect, though— the capitalists are just going a step further and killing people off to ensure good profits for America and a healthy, prosperous society, or some such other bullshit. And then the countdown begins, as the Purge officially commences. On the street, Miguel uses his night vision to give him a better view of the mayhem. Shots are going off. People are dragged from the backs of cars, others are beaten with baseball bats, a man’s tied to a lamppost and whipped brutally. Cars are tipped and burned. “Good Leader” Tavis and her cultists are on their little blue bus, intending to help “the sinners release their hatred.” One of her followers is about to head out and get Purged willingly as the next step to the Other Side. She sends him out to the street. A bunch of people in masks stand waiting, weapons at their sides, and the young man allows himself to be butchered.

“They risked their freedom because they knew the incredible life changing, healing power of violence, of killing.”

I was sceptical about this TV series when it was announced. Father Gore loves the movies, but wasn’t sure it’d make a good series, of any length. Nevertheless, the first episode has me hooked, and I’m going to enjoy watching this play out. Lots of room for sociopolitical commentary, some of which has already begun. That’s what I’ve always dug about The Purge and its sequels, there’s so much relevant material to our times. “Take What’s Yours” is next time.

The Purge – Episode 1: “What is America?” USA's The Purge Episode 1: "What is America?" Directed by Anthony Hemingway Written by James DeMonaco…

#Capitalist #Class War #Crime #Cult #Fiona Dourif #Gabriel Chavarria #Jessica Garza #NFFA #Purge Night #Serial Killer #The New Founding Fathers of America #The Purge #Totalitarian Government

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clarenecessities · 6 years

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The Dread Pirate Ladybug, Ch 12

Chapters: 12/13 Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Implied death, may contain horses Chapter Summary: Nino and Alya get some new jobs, and meet some Special Friends Chapter Warnings: There’s some Weekend At Bernie’s shit going on but it’s pretty lowkey. don’t worry about it

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Alya decided very early in her sailing career that she hated sailing.

As it turned out, ‘protection from pirates’ amounted to doing chores until pirates showed up—if they showed up at all. It was only the second week of their voyage and already she was prepared to stab the next person to suggest she swab the deck.

“Césaire! Where’s Césaire?” barked the captain, a man as rough as his beard and twice as prickly.

“If you wanted someone to peel vegetables then you should’ve hired a cook, not a mercenary!” she yelled back, groaning and wriggling further into her most recent hiding spot. Was five minutes to herself too much to ask? Making an honest living was an infuriating combination of exhausting and boring.

“CÉSAIRE!” he barked even louder, stomping in the direction of her voice. “PIRATES!”

“Pirates?” she echoed, shooting to her feet with an eager gasp. Her shoddy barricade of supplies wobbled, a bucket clattering loudly to the deck.

Scowling, the captain pointed a stubby finger at the horizon, where a ship was hoisting a blood red flag that bore five circles as dark as the black spot, a literary device which would not be invented for several centuries.

“Ooh,” said Alya, wading through barrels with no small amount of difficulty, legs catching where the wood grew roundest. “Good pirates.”

“I believe that’s something of an oxymoron,” said the boatswain from the helm above them.

“I don’t mean that the pirates are good,” she said impatiently, “I mean it’s good that it’s these pirates!”

“That’s—but that’s—” stammered one of the crew. The rest were filtering up from below with undisguised terror, lifting weapons they clearly had no experience with. It was almost laughable to Alya—was this what pirates ordinarily dealt with? Perhaps she’d chosen the wrong career.

“As it happens, they and I have some unfinished business,” said Alya, touching a smug salute to her scarred forehead. “Run up the white flag, Captain, and the black. I have a plan.”

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Nino had never been an especially picky eater; when you were roughly the size of a full-grown bear, you couldn’t afford to be. He needed quadruple the calories, so he had to take what he could get. Unfortunately, even the cheapest fare was a drain on his meager purse, and most jobs paid for time rather than usefulness, so if he did the work of ten men in a day’s toil, he was still given the wages of one—and the wages of one couldn’t fill his belly.

The ridges along the Guilderian coast were easy enough to navigate, but in the back of his mind his headache droned, and a nagging edge of hunger reminded him he couldn’t afford to be spending this much energy so recently unemployed.

He made it to a bustling town before sunset, but only just.

The wharf was cast in dimming orange light, peaches awash in the cream of clouds and sea. A winding market crossed cobbled streets, folding up for the evening like an animal retiring for sleep. Nino trudged past closing stalls and booths, looking for something he could do in exchange for dinner, or maybe a place to sleep, when he saw them.

A pack of hounds, black and tan by day but golden in the setting sun, whining and crowding around a woman in dress much too fine for the town, who was leading a dark horse by the reins. By all rights, she should have drawn every eye—young, obviously rich, pretty enough—but something about the way she held herself deflected, even defied attention. People’s eyes skated across her like oil off a duck’s back, yet Nino couldn’t tear his away.

At first it was the twinge of fear at seeing the hounds who had so recently been on his heels, and a curiosity to identify his pursuer.

But then his gaze drifted to her gloved hands, and it was all he could do to keep from crying out.

As it was, he tried to stifle a gasp, stepping immediately into the shadow of an abandoned stall, peeking around a post to keep an eye on her.

Six fingers. A noblewoman with six fingers.

He tried to remember Alya’s description—dark hair? Light eyes? He couldn’t see much of her from his impromptu hiding place, but it was her attitude that had him most convinced. The way she ignored her dogs. The furtive glances at something slung over the back of her horse, something that looked suspiciously like a body under a rust-colored cloak. She looked like a fox in a henhouse, commanding her own hunt, stealing a prize out from under someone’s nose.

He had to find Alya—he had to tell her. The woman with six fingers was here, right before his eyes, and he could do nothing without his first and only friend and her confirmation.

He kept hunched behind things, half-obscured by buildings that couldn’t quite disguise his bulk, following the woman with six fingers as she wound her way towards the docks, where a ship with the Florinese flag was evidently awaiting her. The hounds swarmed ahead, while a retinue of guards took their place with the same attitude towards their mutual commander.

Nino racked his brain for a solution. He didn’t have Alya, and Papillon couldn’t help him find her. He milled uncertainly around the closing marketplace, trying to assemble something that even vaguely resembled a plan.

What did he know?

He knew Alya. He knew the strength—and apparent mercy—of their most recent opponent. So if Ladybug hadn’t been lying about Alya being alive (and why would she? She’d left Nino alive, and he was far less valuable) then Alya had been beaten in a fencing match. Alya Césaire, the sword, the greatest swordsman of this or any century, had been defeated.

She would want a rematch.

So to find Alya, he had to find Ladybug.

He looked back to the Florinese ship, and the apparently triumphant party boarding it. If they had been in pursuit of the Marquis, whom Ladybug had successfully wrested from Papillon’s custody… Then they must have met with Ladybug, right?

Unless Ladybug hadn’t been after the Marquis at all, but Papillon himself. Nino groaned, trying to remember what little she’d said. None of it had really indicated who she was gunning for, but… Well, Papillon was dead, the Marquis hadn’t been with the body, and neither had Ladybug. So one of them had killed him, and if it were going to be Adrien, he probably would have acted sooner.

What was it Alya was always going on about? Evidence? Clues? He tried desperately to remember. Papillon hadn’t been bleeding, hadn’t looked to be injured, so it must have been an internal thing that killed him. He had been holding his knife, so he was expecting it—or no, he had had his knife to Adrien to keep him in line.

If Adrien had been the one to kill him, he probably would have used the knife, so… it was Ladybug, right? Right. She’d poisoned him or strangled him or something, like she’d strangled Nino, and she probably left with the Marquis; he’d have no reason to fight his rescuer. Maybe he’d offered her a deal? A fortune for his safe return. A ransom. Maybe she’d taken it and led him back to their Florinese pursuers.

Only that wasn’t right, because Nino would have met them on their way back. So Ladybug had to have kidnapped the Marquis in turn, because if he’d been left alone the poor kid would’ve at least armed himself with Papillon’s knife, probably would’ve gone back to meet the rescue party himself…

His headache throbbed painfully. Figuring things out was so much work. This was why he preferred punching stuff, knocking doors down, that sort of thing: Critical thinking was exhausting.

Okay. Okay, so… Ladybug killed Papillon, and took the Marquis. If the Florinese were looking triumphant, then they must have recovered Adrien, and if they recovered Adrien then they must have captured Ladybug. She wouldn’t have surrendered, not when she was capable of beating all three of the Papillon Crowd. So if they’d captured Ladybug, and Alya would try to find Ladybug—then he should follow Ladybug, and wait for Alya to find him. Yeah.

“Excuse me,” he asked one of the guards, emerging from his hiding place to loom over the man like a vulture. “Is your vessel in need of an extra pair of hands? I ask only for passage across the Channel.”

“O-oh,” stammered the guard, staring wide-eyed up at Nino. He had to take a step back to look him all the way in the eye. “I—I believe our crew is adequate, though we appreciate the offer—”

“Now Claude,” said the woman with six fingers from beside the gangplank, taking Nino in with undisguised interest that made his skin crawl, “is that any way to treat someone in need? This man has asked for passage to our fair country, where I’m sure he seeks some manner of opportunity, or employment, no?”

“No,” said Nino, nodding. “Or—or yes. That is to say, I’ve a job I need to do in Florin.” It wasn’t really a lie; it’s just that the job was killing her. “I’m very good at lifting things,” he added awkwardly into the silence, gesturing wide to show off his massive arms.

“I’m sure,” said the woman, smiling. “Come along, then. You can help us disembark.”

Nino scrambled up the gangplank after her without a word of complaint, smiling nervously at a visibly unnerved Claude as he went.

Catching a ride to Florin with his mortal enemy. What could possibly go wrong?

Alya’s plan, as Alya’s plans always did, had immediately gone wrong.

“Hey!” she yelled, as a boarding hook flew over her head and tangled in the rigging. “Hey!”

“Hey yourself,” said a pirate, hauling herself aboard. She wore a shirt as red as Ladybug’s, but no mask or cowl covered her bright hair and bright eyes. She held a boarding saber in one hand and a long knife in her teeth, and was so short she didn’t even reach Alya’s chin. She pulled the knife from her jaws, leaving room for a smirk. “Are we gonna do this the easy way, or the hard way? Generally the white flag means surrender.”

“And the black flag means parley!” said Alya, stamping a foot. “Haven’t you any honor?”

“I’m a pirate!” said the pirate, grinning and spreading her arms as if to invite criticism. “You’d be hard-pressed to find a pirate with honor, good lady.” Punctuating her speech, more pirates clambered onto the merchant ship, and Alya heard a crewman whimper from their hiding place.

“I met your captain as recently as last month, and she had more honor than any honest sailor.”

The pirate’s grin dropped, replaced first with shock, then deep suspicion. “Our captain?” she echoed.

“The Dread Pirate Ladybug,” said Alya promptly. “Those are her colors, no? She was charitable enough to end our duel by knocking me unconscious and running off after the Marquis, but—”

“The Captain doesn’t just—I don’t believe you,” said the pirate. “Why should she spare you? Why should she fight you in the first place?”

“I am Alya Césaire, the sword,” said Alya, lifting Trixx slightly to draw their eyes. To a man, the pirates stared in awe, and Alya felt a twinge of pride. Even now, Marlena’s work was art. “I was a part of the kidnapping party, and my only guess as to why she spared me is that I spared her first.”

There was a collective gasp from where she’d stashed the crewmen. Whoops. Hopefully their desire not to be murdered by pirates would outweigh the desire to turn her in.

The pirates exchanged glances. Another woman stepped forward, much taller than the first speaker, her hair as dark as Ladybug’s but far longer. Her eyes seemed almost red in the sunlight. “Perhaps we should parley,” she said softly.

“As I’ve been saying,” said Alya, gesturing for the Boucles with Trixx’s hilt.

“No!” growled the first pirate. “I still don’t believe it. She’s hurt Ladybug or captured her, or—or—” Her snarling became wordless, and she rushed Alya with both blades held aloft.

Disarming her was the work of a moment.

“Your captain outclasses me,” she told the pirate, who was now wheezing on the deck, flat on her back, “but she alone. If I must fight all of you, I will, but I am far more curious than bloodthirsty.”

“Alix,” said the tall pirate to the short, “restrain yourself. Ladybug would hardly thank you for killing someone she only just spared.” She turned her eyes to Alya. “Very well—but we talk aboard the Boucles. This ship may go free.”

“I thought the Dread Pirate Ladybug never left captives alive,” said Alya, smiling as she trailed after them. The one called Alix squirmed to her feet with a scowl behind her.

“The Dread Pirate Ladybug isn’t here,” said the tall woman, “and you are the only captive we’re taking.”

“So,” said Nino. “You’re a noble, huh?”

“Of a kind,” said the woman with six fingers. She was standing on the quarter deck while he stood below, her eyes drifting lazily across the horizon despite being roughly level with his. “A Countess, as a matter of fact, though not by birth.”

“Your Highness,” said Nino, swallowing nervously as he half-bowed. “Uh, may I ask—How does that happen?”

The Countess laughed. “It’s Your Grace, little sailor. I was awarded the position by my dear friend, the Princess Chloé Bourgeois, by merit of my exemplary service to the country of Florin. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course,” said Nino, who understood nothing. “I, ah—I imagine there’s a great deal of trust between you.”

The Countess did not answer for a long time.

“A very great deal,” she said at last, smiling as if it had been a particularly clever joke on his part. “I am of course overjoyed to have retrieved her betrothed relatively unscathed. I can only guess at what twisted creature must have orchestrated the affair.”

“Do you, uh—have any? Guesses?”

“A few,” said the Countess, still smiling that smile. “Of course, the evidence points to Guilder.”

“Right,” said Nino, deeply relieved at Papillon’s foresight. “Guilder.”

“I mean who else could be responsible?” she went on, “A crowd of mercenaries? A genius, a giant, and a—oh, do forgive me, but I can’t think of a word that means fencer that starts with a ‘g’. Why—from the evidence it’s obvious that it’s Guilder. No one could suspect that a criminal syndicate affiliated with Florin itself was responsible.”

Nino stared.

“Of course, the casualty of the day calls that into question. Or, it would if people knew who he was. If they didn’t think him some silly old man in a mask.”

“A… yes. The casualty. There was a casualty?” Nino rasped, when she paused to look at him, apparently waiting for a response. He tried to pretend he was surprised to hear about Papillon. Satisfied, she continued.

“As a matter of fact, a very well-known casualty, not that anyone here would be aware of it. This particular casualty happens to have been the leader of the aforementioned syndicate, which would have been an instant giveaway had there been any wanted posters circulated of the man.”

“There were no wanted posters?”

“Oh, there wouldn’t be, I expect,” said the Countess, smiling again. “Purely hypothetically, of course, it stands to reason that this genius, for all his skill, would lack the power and influence necessary to accomplish such a task—unless he were on retainer for a member of the Florinese Court. Why, a noble, perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” echoed Nino. Was he hearing this right? She kept implying things but never stating them outright, and it was making his throbbing head spin.

“And were such a noble to require a certain bridegroom be disposed of, it then stands to reason that she would call upon his services, particularly if she wanted to be assured of his loyalty; after all, it’s not for just anyone that a man would kill his own son.”

“What?” Nino gasped, eyes boggling. Son? Adrien was Papillon’s son? Papillon had a son?

“Didn’t he tell you?” asked the Countess, her smile becoming a sharp, sharp grin. “I am surprised. It seems our little butterfly was even more tight-lipped than I thought.”

Abruptly, Nino understood.

She knew very well who he was.

She knew that he was a part of the kidnapping party, that he was the giant she’d named. She knew Papillon better than Nino ever had, and had even played him against himself, in just the sort of game he would have taken as a challenge. She had wanted to test his loyalty, and that meant…

That meant she had been the one to hire them.

“No,” said Nino, with perfect honesty, “he didn’t tell me anything.”

“More there for your brawn than brains, eh?” asked the Countess, grimacing sympathetically. “Well, that’s alright. Our mutual friend may no longer be around, but I can handle things from here on out. Leave the thinking to me.”

“Of course,” said Nino. Of course. Of course what?

“Any financial obligations are of course still in effect—when the job is complete, you will receive full payment.”

Oh.

He’d just agreed to assassinate the Marquis.

Again.

“I know it’s traditional for both parties to be disarmed for a parley, but I must confess, there is nowhere you could take this sword that I would not find it,” said Alya. “You might as well cut off one of my arms.”

“You are currently aboard our ship, surrounded by pirates, all armed to the teeth, and heading for the open sea. Even if you were to defeat us all, a single person cannot sail the Boucles,” said the dark-haired pirate, leading her below decks. “You may keep your sword.”

They sat around a solid table, covered in scraps of food and hastily-drawn plans. The pirate swept these aside before Alya could glean much of anything, but it piqued her interest just the same. She hadn’t thought pirates needed such detailed plans—they seemed more like a grab-and-go operation.

“I assure you I have no intention of commandeering your ship,” said Alya, folding her hands primly on the table before her. “I want only information.”

“We’re quite curious ourselves,” she answered. Three others sat beside her, the angry one called Alix, a fragile-looking creature with pale blonde hair and enormous blue eyes, and a visibly apprehensive young man with an eyepatch over one side of his spectacles and a raven on his shoulder. “I am Juleka. Alix you know—these are Rose and Max. We would like to hear more of your encounter with our captain.”

“Oh, sure. Fire away.”

“You said you were among the kidnappers?”

“Yes. One of three.”

The pirates shared a significant look. “Our sources indicated the Marquis was abducted by the Papillon Crowd.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” said Alya, shrugging it off. “Or it was, anyway. Ladybug beat me in a duel, so Papillon hasn’t any use for me.”

“Papillon is—” the one called Max began, but Alix cut him off with an elbow to the ribs. “Ow!”

“What information can you give us about the Papillon Crowd?” asked Juleka, ignoring the scuffle erupting beside her. The girl named Rose hovered frantically over them as Alix put Max in a headlock.

“Not much, but whatever I know is yours in exchange for information on your captain.”

“That’s not exactly a fair trade,” said Juleka, frowning.

“Well, I can offer my services until Ladybug is available. I’m looking for a particular woman, you see, and I’d like her advice. I was deeply impressed by your captain, and—”

“You misunderstand. I mean to say I have very little information about our captain.”

“Ah,” said Alya. “Well. That’s alright anyway. I’d like to stick around for a while, if you’ll have me. Just until Ladybug returns.”

“We aren’t going to pay you a share,” said Alix immediately. Max took advantage of her lapse in attention to prize her arms from his throat.

Alya waved a dismissive hand. “Please. You couldn’t afford me. Room and board would be sufficient.”

“Didn’t we just pull you off a run-down old—”

“I do what needs to be done,” said Alya.

“Whatever needs to be done?”

“Without fail.”

“Good,” said Alix, sitting back. She and Alya had both been leaning forward in their seats, as if issuing drinking challenges. “We need your help, ‘Sword’.”

How do I get myself into these things? Nino asked himself as he exchanged deeply insincere farewells with a Countess so smug she might as well be winking at him.

“Now if anything should happen to that package I’ve entrusted you with, you’re to report straight to me in Florin City, alright?” she bade, smirking down at him as she stroked one of her dogs with an idle hand. “It should be delivered around the time of the wedding.”

“Alright,” he echoed, nodding at her and doing his best to vanish among the sea of (much shorter) sailors.

The ‘package,’ of course, was her most recent plan for the Marquis’s assassination, of which Nino was the unenthused executor. Though he’d agreed to the plan, it was largely to be polite, and he hadn’t actually made up his mind as to whether or not he’d follow through.

He felt sort of bad about the whole thing—he hadn’t exactly been thrilled to kill the guy in the first place, and here he was accepting a second hit? He didn’t even understand why she’d hire him again in the first place. The Papillon Crowd had failed with a full roster, and here she was sending out a third of the team with vague instructions and a fast-approaching deadline.

Well, okay, he was pretty sure she had Ladybug in custody, but it was mostly speculation based on her demeanor and the mysterious figure he’d seen draped over her horse. There remained the chance she’d already been killed, but the Countess didn’t seem the type for a slow and easy execution.

The fact of the matter was, he had to keep tabs on the Countess, and she was almost certainly keeping tabs on him. So would it be better to kill the man, or chance whatever party she sent after Nino?

Frankly, from Alya’s descriptions, he had developed his own loathing of the woman. He’d soon fight dozens for an opportunity to thwart her plans.

She sent him off with a small handful of coins for any expenses he might incur, which she assured him were no trouble as they were deducted from his payment. It was significantly more than Papillon had ever paid him, though there was little he could do beside rent a room and wait for Alya to find Ladybug.

The whole situation was beginning to feel increasingly ridiculous. To tell Alya about the Countess, he had to wait for her to find Ladybug, who was being held captive by the Countess. He might as well pretend he was going to kill the kid for something to do while he was waiting around.

Although, he thought to himself, head and shoulders above even the tallest members of the crowd, stealth isn’t exactly my strong suit.

He sighed heavily. That probably meant he should find a day job.

“Let me get this straight,” said Alya, “you’ve been leading the revolution this entire time?”

“Leading is a strong word,” said Alix, wobbling a hand back and forth in a noncommittal gesture. “I prefer to think of it as ‘trendsetting’.”

“We simply encourage acts of resistance whenever we’re ashore,” Juleka explained. “And yes, conduct a raid or two. It’s difficult to fight back without funding, you know. A little wealth redistribution never hurt anyone.”

“No, but the swords sure do!” laughed Alix, slapping the table in mirth.

“Well, but hold on,” said Alya, rubbing her temples with one hand. “If you’re leading the revolution, and Ladybug is leading you—why did she…?”

“We were hoping you could tell us,” said Rose. “She heard about the kidnapping and told us she’d be back in a day or so, only… she didn’t come back.”

“She was captured,” said Juleka, grimacing. “I just wish we knew why. What did she need a princeling for?”

“Oh, well I know that one,” said Alya, raising an eyebrow. They weren’t kidding when they said they didn’t know much about her; she’d been expecting at least some insight into her plans. “I think she just really hates Papillon.”

The pirates frowned.

“No,” said Juleka slowly, “we’ve come up against you before, but she’s always put it off. She cedes things to him she would cede to no other.”

Interesting.

Alya frowned too, reviewing her information. She had assumed it was Papillon simply because neither she nor Nino had done anything to elicit the wrath of the Dread Pirate Ladybug, but what if… what if it wasn’t wrath at all?

“If not the captors… then the captive,” she said slowly. Ladybug had become deeply unsettled when she spoke of love… what if…?

“The prince?”

“She loves him,” said Alya, blinking at the pirates. They gaped at her. It seemed preposterous to her, but it had to be so. All other reasons had been eliminated as possibilities. “She’s in love with him.”

“That’s—what?” Alix spluttered. “Don’t be ridiculous. She—she can’t be. When would she have had the time?”

“Perhaps before she took us on as crew?” Rose asked uncertainly. “Her old first mate did imply they had just let a number of people go.”

“When would a prince have had time to man a pirate ship?” asked Alix, scowling. “You know what they say about him. He came from a farm, not the sea.”

“I’m telling you,” said Alya, shrugging. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. I don’t know why she gave Papillon any leeway, but whatever the reason, it came second to protecting the Marquis. Do you know where they are now?”

The pirates still looked uncomfortable with this turn of events, but Juleka nodded hesitantly.

“They were captured on the far side of the Fire Swamp,” she said. “We were supposed to meet them. Adrien was taken by the Princess, and Ladybug by the Countess.”

Alya swore. Vehemently.

“We need to rescue her,” said Alix, hands clenched into fists on the table. “We need to. She’s our Captain.”

“No,” said Alya. The pirates’ heads whipped around, all of them immediately bristling. “No, hear me out. She’s important. She’s the greatest fighter on either side of the Channel, that much is clear, but she’s just one person. You are many.”

“The better to save her with,” said Juleka, stiffer than she had been throughout the conversation. Alya shook her head.

“The better to save the people,” she corrected gently. The pirates grew quiet. “You are many, and you’re all strong. You’re all capable. You know this revolution better than anyone besides Ladybug. We can’t waste your talents on a rescue operation this close to the anniversary of Florin’s founding. The celebrations are the best chance you’ll ever get. A quincentennial only comes along so often.”

“What do you suggest we do?” growled Alix. “Abandon her?”

Alya leaned back on her bench, spreading her hands in front of her. “Send me.”

Alix blinked, leaning back on her own bench.

“Interesting,” said Max, rubbing his chin. “A talented swordsman, equaled only by the Captain… dedicated, clever… unopposed to illegal activity…”

“It’s true that she knows comparatively little of our operations,” Juleka pointed out. “The revolution would not suffer for her absence, but the Captain may benefit from it.”

“She could be a spy,” said Alix, but she didn’t seem to believe it.

“Then we’ve lost nothing in releasing her.”

“Well,” said Max. “One thing.”

“I for one am willing to make that sacrifice,” said Alix.

“You’d better be talking about his identity,” said Max, scowling at her.

“Whose?” asked Alya, looking between them.

“We may have a… friend,” said Juleka delicately, “with whom you will be in contact shortly, thus revealing his identity, and not leading to his murder, Alix.”

“Ah,” said Alya, lighting up. “A spy of your own.”

“Kim will be able to tell you everything you need to know,” said Max, still frowning at an unabashed Alix. His raven reacted to the name, croaking gently, and Max rubbed an idle finger along his ruff. “Yes, Markov, I know.”

“He’s in the employ of the Countess, who doubtless still holds the Captain. No one less could keep her from our ship,” said Rose.

“You all speak highly of this Countess,” said Alya, raising an eyebrow. “Is she truly so formidable? I should think you’d worry more about the Princess.”

“The Princess is a pawn,” growled Alix. “A childish red herring to divert the interest and suspicions of the people. Of course the financial troubles are because of her frivolous spending, and nothing more sinister. Of course the people should be grateful that she is so easily swayed by their good favor. It’s all to disguise Her Grace’s machinations.”

Alya hummed thoughtfully. “Why then does she still live? Are pirates not skilled in the art of assassination?”

“Oh, very,” said Rose, with a tone of bloodlust made more menacing by her wide, innocent eyes. “Our hands have been stayed primarily by your interference, as a matter of fact.”

“Mine?” asked Alya, surprised. She had never met this Countess, much less interfered on her behalf.

“By the Papillon Crowd,” Juleka clarified. “He was in her pocket.”

“Was?”

The pirates exchanged a series of complicated looks, and then Juleka turned back to Alya and said, plainly, “He’s dead.”

Alya stared.

She hadn’t thought it possible. He was pompous, yes, but all his showboating was based in genuine competence—no one could play the game like he could. What he lacked in physical strength, he made up for in cunning—and in the rest of the Crowd. Between her and Nino, there was no one who could reach him. No one, except, perhaps,

“Ladybug,” she said quietly, looking between them. “She killed him.”

Juleka nodded.

“And… the giant?”

“He lives,” said Juleka. “We don’t know why she spared him, but it’s likely for a similar reason as to why she spared you.”

Alya let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Nino was okay. And if Papillon was dead, perhaps they could work together again after all.

“I apologize sincerely for meddling,” she said after a moment. “I can assure you, I have no loyalty to this woman. My sword was Papillon’s, but now, it is yours. Or at least, your Captain’s.”

Alix smiled grimly and got to her feet.

Beside her, Juleka had a palpable air of relief. “The fault is just as much Ladybug’s, truly. Her reluctance to kill Papillon sooner led to an insurmountable obstacle.”

Alix growled. “I’m going to ready the skiff,” she said, sour and sharp. “Max and I will take her ashore.”

“Are you okay?” Rose asked quietly.

“I’m pissed about the secrets she’s been keeping,” said Alix, “but… this is our best chance to get her back. I’ll yell at her when she’s safe aboard the Boucles.”

They left in relative silence, each of the three lost in their own thoughts. The skiff was small, but not so small that it couldn’t support the thin sail Alix raised to carry them into port. The Boucles was moored in a sheltered inlet about a league from the docks of Florin City, but the pirates assured her their journey was safely mysterious. Max wrote a short message on a roll of paper, cinching it tightly and placing it inside a canister on Markov’s leg.

“To Kim,” he said quietly, and the raven ran an affectionate beak over his fingers before taking off, heading inland while they skirted the coast.

“He’ll meet us on the docks,” said Max, “once he can get away. He doesn’t work until this evening, if memory serves.”

They made landfall when the sun was at its highest, Alix flipping a coin to the youngster who helped them moor the skiff. It was as they disembarked that Markov returned, alighting on Max’s outstretched arm with an expectant caw. His keeper flipped open the canister with experienced fingers, reading the message over in a heartbeat.

“He’ll be along,” he said vaguely, nodding at the youth as the pirates (and Alya) moved deeper into the port. They shuffled into a small tavern, unusually bustling for the time of day, and settled into a booth in the back.

They waited only a few minutes before being joined by a tall, strapping young man about their age, with dark hair and a soldier’s uniform. He eyed Alya suspiciously as he scooted in next to Max, passing a small strip of meat to Markov as he did. A waitress approached the table with three mugs of ale, and the soldier tipped her well, asking for a fourth for their ‘new friend’.

“So,” he said evenly when she had come and gone, setting a flagon before Alya with a smile. His voice was deep, deeper than she had expected, but held no trace of malice or fear. “You’re here to help?”

“I am,” she answered, with a small smile.

“Then I am at your service,” said the soldier, clasping his fist to his heart in an understated gesture of fealty. “You may call me Kim.”

“Alya Césaire,” said the sword, returning the gesture, “at yours.”

“Is she still in the Cave?” asked Alix, leaning forward. Her voice was lower than Alya had yet heard it, rough with stress.

“Of course,” said Kim, just as tense but not quite as quiet. “There’s news. I’m to bring a prisoner down at the start of my shift.”

“A prisoner?” asked Max, surprised. “The Cave has stood empty for years, now. Why bring in a second so soon?”

“I couldn’t say,” said Kim, shrugging. “He’s a minor criminal, too—one better suited to the stocks than a prison.”

“What is the Cave?” asked Alya. She was beginning to feel left out of the conversation.

“The Cave of the Cats,” said Kim, glancing around the tavern out the corner of his eye. “Home of the King’s miracle men, until the most recent one died, when it was converted to… a dungeon, of sorts.”

“Of sorts?”

“It has never housed a prisoner,” he said carefully. “Though a guard is always posted, and a master dwells within. It was originally a basement—a workshop, even—with an underground stream running through, and a cottage above. Under the last miracle man, the Countess began to… expand. It ceased to be a workshop of miracles, of healing, and it became something… malevolent.”

“Some say that’s how the old man finally bit it,” said Alix, at Alya’s side. “We know she has an exciting new collection of poisons she developed down there, though some haven’t been tested on humans yet.”

“Her most recent is called Cataclysm,” said Kim. “That’s all I know of it. Except… I’ve heard her test it while I was on duty, before. Generally it is the guards’ duty to dispose of her leftovers.”

“Leftovers?” asked Alya.

Kim swallowed. “Sometimes it’s simply a dead animal, poisoned or drowned or what have you. It was worst in the beginning, when she was just starting to… learn. Skinning. Quartering. Vivisections. She has… an especially keen pleasure for leaving them alive as long as possible, to see what a body can withstand.” He closed his eyes. “To see their hearts beating with no skin or muscle or bone in the way.”

Alya set down her ale.

“She has to be stopped,” said Kim, opening his eyes. “You don’t… you can’t know. I can’t bear to think of our Captain in her clutches, Alya Césaire.”

“I need to know the layout,” said Alya. Her mouth was dry, despite having just taken a drink, and her stomach churned. “Entrances, exits. Does the stream run all the way through?”

“Yes,” said Kim. “There’s a well some fifteen paces north of the cottage. The stream is grated on both sides, but those are the only passages in or out besides the door.”

“Tell me about the door.”

“Solid iron. Bolted from the outside. There’s a hatch in the floor of the cottage that leads down to a little antechamber. Stairs are shallow, very defensible.”

“The well, then,” said Alya. She wished she had Nino. He would make short work of even the tallest well. “Do you think Ladybug would chance the door, or take the grate?”

“I can’t imagine they’re leaving her unrestrained,” said Kim, “but I suppose it could go either way. Since a prisoner has never lasted the night, there isn’t much thought to escapes. I haven’t inspected the grates myself, but there’s a good chance they’re relatively flimsy.”

“Good,” said Alya, stomach settling enough to take another sip of her ale. “I’ll need a file or saw of some kind, then. My sword should be enough to dispatch the master you spoke of. Is there only one guard posted?”

“Yes,” said Kim. “My shift starts at sundown and lasts until noon tomorrow. But the Countess may come or go at any time, and you cannot rely on me for help. Only the loudest screams will reach me in the cottage above.”

Alya considered. “Leave a lantern beside the front door if she is within,” she told him, “and extinguish it when she leaves. Does she come with a guard of her own?”

“Always,” said Kim, “though their number often varies, and they wait inside the cottage with me. They won’t question a lantern in the window; I often wait with only a candle, so they’ll assume it’s for their benefit.”

“Can any of them be counted on?”

“Not to my knowledge,” said Kim. “Though none know they could count on me, either. It is possible every one of us is a spy, but more likely that I am alone.”

“You’re not alone,” said Max beside him. “We are all with you.”

“In spirit, aye,” said Kim, grinning and lifting his flagon in a sort of toast. “I know, Max. I keep you all in my heart.”

He wore it like armor, Alya thought privately. She wondered at how he was able to smile and joke with his friends despite his position, despite the things he’d heard and seen. If he kept his friends in his heart, then he wrapped it in their spirits like a blanket, trusting it to the protection of their memory alone. Kim brandished his affection like she had once brandished her love for her mother, a driving force in her quest for vengeance.

Perhaps, when all of this was over, a few of them could be persuaded to help locate the woman with six fingers.

They finished their drinks without much else exchanged, the pirates and the soldier briefly embracing as they stood to go. Alix clasped Alya’s forearm in a touching (if unexpected) gesture of camaraderie as the boys exchanged words of parting.

“Keep them safe,” she told Alya, her smile tight.

“Rest easy,” Alya assured her. “There is nothing on this earth that can stop me now. Look to the people; the wedding is in two days.”

“I know,” said Alix, regaining some of her usual bristling swagger.

“Here,” said Kim, handing Alya a crudely drawn map as they saw the pirates off. “This is the Cave of the Cats, as best I can remember. There’s… still some time before I have to go on shift. I would appreciate it if you walked with me, just to keep up appearances. If anyone asks, we are old friends.”

Alya nodded and tucked the map into her shirt, just over her heart.

She wore it like armor.

Nino’s days had been filled primarily with lifting things.

That wasn’t to say there wasn’t a fair share of pushing things, or standing around being intimidating—but by and large, he was either taking things off of ships or putting them on. It would have been dull to most others, had they suddenly found themselves in possession of his prodigious strength, but Nino found comfort in the lazy routine of it all.

Lift crate, walk, set crate down, and walk back. Lift crate, walk, set crate down, and walk back. Lift crate, walk, set crate down, and walk back. Lift crate, walk, set crate down, and walk back.

The nights were more interesting, but far less comforting.

He’d been able to cut a deal with the owner of a small inn, whose associated tavern needed a bouncer to deal with an influx of pirates. Privately, Nino thought it may have something to do with Ladybug’s disappearance emboldening them—but no one was paying him to think.

It was just as well. All he could think about was Ladybug, and Alya, and the Countess, and the Marquis. Matters of state or crime were simply more than he could handle at the moment.

As he headed over from the docks to see about grabbing a meal before getting to work, he stopped dead in his tracks.

There, shuffling out the doorway of the very tavern he worked in, laughing at something a soldier had said, was Alya Césaire.

“A—Alya!” he yelped after gaping in disbelief for a moment more. The soldier, and two sailors trailing behind Alya whipped around, looking alarmed, hands on their weapons and an enormous bird flapping its wings to regain its perch. Alya turned slower, as if she couldn’t believe the sound of his voice, but lit up at the sight of him.

He grinned.

“Nino!” she cried, laughing jubilantly and rushing to embrace him.

He caught her in a whirl of feet and blades, spinning her around and clasping her close to his chest as he started laughing himself.

“Where have you been? How did you get to Florin?” she demanded, leaning back to look at him. Her feet were dangling in the air as he held her, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s a long story,” said Nino, his smile melting away. “Alya, listen. There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Friend of yours?” asked one of the sailors. They and the soldier had warily trailed Alya, the bird’s feathers remaining ruffled.

“We can trust him,” she assured. “I’d trust Nino with far more than my life. He’s the other surviving member of the Papillon Crowd.”

Nino set her down, frowning a little. “Alya, really, I’ve—”

“That may be so, but can he keep his mouth shut?” asked the sailor without the bird. She was regarding Nino with undisguised suspicion, hand tight around the hilt of a knife.

“Papillon was in her pocket. Who’s to say this giant isn’t as well?” asked the soldier. He looked a little more nervous at the attention they had attracted with their reunion, pulling the hood of a cloak over his face and tugging it low. A soldier. What if he worked for the Countess?

“Do you trust them?” Nino asked Alya urgently. She blinked at him in surprise.

“I—yes, I suppose I do. We’re—working together, you might say.”

“I found the woman with six fingers,” said Nino in a rush.

Alya jolted as if she’d been shocked, then stood frozen before doing the last thing Nino had ever expected Alya Césaire to do.

She fainted.

He caught her before she hit the ground, gasping a little in panic.

“Um,” he said helplessly to the other members of Alya’s party. The girl swore.

“The Countess has six fingers,” said the soldier slowly. “Why is this such grave news?”

“She murdered Alya’s mother in cold blood,” said Nino, scooping Alya into his arms like someone might pick up a kitten. “She was just a girl, but… that’s where she got her scars.”

The three exchanged dark looks.

“We’re working against her,” said the one with the bird. “Kim—” he indicated the soldier, “—is a spy. All three of us are part of the crew of the Dread Pirate Ship Boucles.”

Nino laughed, this time in relief. “So she did go after Ladybug.”

“Well, she tried,” said the girl. “She got us instead, because Ladybug’s been captured.”

“I knew it!” he said immediately, jostling Alya as he tried to restrain himself from leaping in victory. “The Countess has her, doesn’t she?”

“You seem awfully pleased with that,” she returned, glaring.

“Oh, uh—no, sorry. With being right. I owe Ladybug my life.”

“You and everyone else, apparently,” she grumbled. “Never leaves captives alive, my ass.”

“So what’s the plan?” he asked, smiling again. He liked this little pirate. She had all the wrath of her bug-sized Captain, packed into an even smaller package.

“Alya can brief you when she comes to,” said Kim, sighing a little. “Is there anything we need to know?”

“Oh. Um. Well, I’m working for her, sort of,” said Nino. He shifted Alya to one arm so he could scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck. “She hired me to assassinate the Marquis. Again, I mean. The hiring. Not the assassinating. I’m not really planning on doing it, but she’ll recognize me.”

“I can’t imagine anyone wouldn’t,” said the boy with the bird. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he said honestly. He had no illusions about the novelty of his size. “Oh! Also—I don’t know if it matters any—but Papillon was the Marquis’s father.”

The girl swore, loudly, while the boy stared at him with a wide, wide eye. Kim seemed as mystified as Nino felt.

“What?” he asked his companions, looking between them in confusion and apprehension. “What is it?”

“She was right,” said the girl, glowering at the unconscious Alya. Nino cradled her a little closer protectively. “That was… the sword was right. Ladybug knows the Marquis, and she cares for him enough not to kill his wayward father, even at the expense of her own plans.”

“Until the son was threatened directly,” finished Max.

“She… loves him?” asked Kim, stunned.

“What does any of this have to do with Papillon?” asked Nino, baffled.

“She’s spared your Crowd a few times,” said Kim, glancing at him. “Alix, really? She loves him?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” said the girl, Alix. “Although frankly, it doesn’t make much sense to me. Has she seen the guy?”

“Yes, and he’s dreamy,” said the bird boy, frowning. “Half the country’s in love with him, Alix, you’re just picky.”

“You’re picky,” she muttered. “Anyway, we have to get back to the ship. We’re running out of time. Kim, will you be alright?”

“I hope so,” said Kim. He didn’t sound very sure. “If the sword trusts him, I suppose we have to trust him. Though I’m not comfortable with so many people learning my identity is such a short span of time, if we’re being honest.”

“We’re not,” said Alix, shooting him a sarcastic salute. “Don’t mess up, big guy. See you on the other side.” She trotted off towards the dock without a backwards glance.

“Please do be careful,” said the unnamed sailor, sighing. He clasped Kim’s hand in his own. “And tell Ladybug... tell her we’re her crew ‘til the end.”

“Of course,” said Kim, smiling gently.

“Our end,” he clarified. “Not…”

“Of course,” Kim repeated, but the smile dimmed slightly.

The pirates melted into the crowd easily, despite the bird that should’ve stuck out like a sore thumb. Nino watched them go for a moment, then turned to Kim.

“So… do we have a plan?” he asked.

Alya awoke to the familiar smell of Nino, bundled in his arms like a stack of firewood. She blinked at the unexpected darkness, disoriented, then sat bolt upright as she realized what had happened.

“I passed out?” she demanded indignantly.

“Oh good, you’re up,” said Nino, deeply relieved. He set her on the ground gently, so that she was sitting—under a tree? Where were they? “Here, try and drink some water.”

She accepted the canteen mostly because her mouth was a little dry, and not because she needed to be babied.

“Nino, where are we?” she asked, looking around. They were in a very overgrown garden, apparently belonging to a cottage she could just see above some towering butterfly bushes, a thin tendril of smoke rising from the chimney. Why not go inside…?

“We’re above and slightly to the north of the Cave of the Cats,” said Nino. “Kim said you’d know what that meant? And also to tell you the well is over there.” He pointed behind them, to a small clearing in the wildness of the garden around a derelict stone well with no roof.

“Oh,” said Alya. She ran through her memories of the day. “And… the Countess?”

“She’s in,” said Nino grimly. “But look, you can’t go after her, okay? Not yet. She’s too… she’s too evil. We’re no good at plans. We need Ladybug.”

“Then you’ll help me?” asked Alya, smiling up at him.

“Of course,” he said seriously. “Now, I’m not sure where they’re keeping her, but—”

“Did they not tell you?” Alya blurted. “Ladybug is beneath us at this very moment, my friend. My vengeance is within reach.”

A smile spread across Nino’s face like the dawn breaking over the mountains. “I—I didn’t realize,” he said, grinning dopily. “I thought it was strange that that old prisoner should be taken here—”

“The prisoner,” said Alya, startling. “How long was I out? What’s happened?”

“Well…” said Nino, hesitating. “There was… a lot of screaming.”

Alya got to her feet, relieved to find her head didn’t spin when she did.

“How long was I out?” she repeated, moving towards the well.

“It’s almost morning,” he told her, creeping after her in an awkward crouch to stay below the line of the gardens. “The wedding is tomorrow night.”

Alya looked down into the well. It was too narrow for Nino to fit down, but should be easy enough for her. If she had to carry Ladybug out… well, they’d figure something out.

There was a distant rumble of rushing water, and dimly she thought she could even hear screams, but it may have been in her head; Nino had spooked her a little.

“Do we have a rope?” she asked, turning to find Nino holding one up to her. “Oh.”

“Do you want to go down there yet?” he asked nervously. “The Countess is still inside. You won’t be able to do anything until she leaves.”

“No, I know,” said Alya, scowling at the thought of her. “I just want to be prepared.”

They waited quietly beside the well, Alya weaving a length of the rope into a makeshift harness while Nino tested the strength of the bar across the well. He could support her weight if it came to it, but the crank made things a lot smoother if they could manage it. He gave her a metal clip to fasten to her harness, and then they were all set.

Then came the waiting.

Alya hated waiting.

“Could you just like, knock me unconscious again? Real quick?” she asked Nino after what felt like hours. The sky was lightening, but the sun hadn’t yet risen, and the Countess still hadn’t left.

“Alya, it’s been twenty minutes.”

“No, come on. Do that weird neck pinch thing you do. Wake me up when it’s time to kill the Countess, or Ladybug needs me or whatever.”

“She needs you now,” Nino pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t fit down that well, and Kim’s got to stay at his post. It’s all up to you, Alya.”

“Could it be up to me faster?” she groaned.

“Well��”

Nino’s mouth snapped shut at the distant creak of timber, and a group of hushed voices reached them.

“I trust everything went well, Your Grace?”

“Of course it did,” came the voice of the Countess. Alya seized up, her blood running cold, her hand automatically snapping to Trixx’s hilt. It was her. It was really her.

“We heard, ah, some results,” said another guard, delicately.

“I expect you would have,” said the Countess. “While the speed may increase with dosage, it seems nothing can be done about the noise.” Their voices drew closer to Alya and Nino’s hiding place, just on the other side of a thick hedge. Alya didn’t dare breathe. It was only her word to the pirates that kept her from leaping through the leaves and challenging her mother’s murderer to a rematch then and there.

“He looks a bit worse for wear, too,” said a third guard. There was a dull, meaty slap, as if someone were being patted on the side of the face.

“Aside from being a corpse?” snorted the first guard. “Ah, but he’s right. I’ve never seen anything like it, Your Grace.”

“That’s not even from the Cataclysm,” said the Countess. “It’s an apoptoxin, not anything as indelicate as this. The fool did most of it to himself.”

Apple toxin? Nino mouthed at Alya. She shook her head, concentrating furiously as the voices receded into the distance.

“I just need him disposed of. The usual method should be fine.”

“With respect, Your Grace, I thought you wanted to observe the decomposition?”

“I considered it,” said the Countess, “but he’s done too much damage to himself for it to be accurate. A pity. I suppose a higher dosage could mitigate some of the effects…”

Alya sagged against the well as they passed out of hearing, practically melting into the worn stone.

It was her.

After all these years—all these sacrifices. Marlena would finally be avenged.

“Alya,” Nino said softly. He was standing now, smiling patiently as he held out the end of the rope.

“Right,” she breathed. She secured her harness, checked her equipment, and descended the well. It was slow, but stable with Nino’s steady hands operating the winch.

The bottom of the well was shallower than she had expected, the water running only up to her chest, but it was a welcome surprise; she didn’t want to be swimming in such a narrow space.

It was agonizingly slow to wade against the current, but it was all she could do. The slick rock against her feet almost sent her sprawling more than once, though the water was not so quick as to wash her away. It was almost gentle, trying to push her back, to make her give up.

As if Alya Césaire had ever given up anything.

The path to the Cave of the Cats was winding, following the course of the stream as it had broken apart the dark stone—except it was something of a maze. Since it had been worn naturally, rather than carved by human hands, the stream branched off in different directions. Alya kept one hand wrapped around the rope that secured her to Nino, conscious of how many paces she took in each direction; it was the closest she could come to a map, down here in the pitch black. Her other hand ran along the smooth stone in front of her, each footstep inching out slowly in case of a sudden drop. The water grew deeper in places and shallower in others, but it only passed her chin once.

She went down a dead end. She turned around. She found a small cavern, obviously not the one she was looking for, and pushed through. Another dead end. She turned around again. On and on, passage after passage, until finally she thought she could see a light at the end of the tunnel, if she squinted. At first she thought it was in her head, but eventually a corner turned slowly to reveal the unmistakable flicker of firelight.

She drew nearer with a relieved sigh, only to stop abruptly when there was a sudden clamor.

Splashing and shouting, a high shrieking voice demanding someone stop—a pair of lower snarls, almost inhuman but not quite—a frustrated yell—

Silence. But for the murmur of the stream, Alya could hear nothing. She moved forward once again.

A grate came into view, and she sank low to the ground, minimizing her visibility. She pulled the file from her belt only to find, as she approached, that it had already been broken open. She narrowed her eyes and sank lower, peering over the edge like an alligator.

The Countess was back.

Her shoulders were heaving, and a small woman with pale copper hair stood beside her in a similar state, but there, before them, thrashing against restraints, was Ladybug.

The Countess was saying something about the Marquis, and Ladybug said his name, and Alya was wriggling under the grate when the screaming started.

Alya retreated back into the shadows, swallowing her dread as best she could.

It was over in scarcely five minutes, but felt like an eternity.

“Lady Rossi,” said the pale woman (or at least, Alya assumed it was the pale woman—she couldn’t see from her position in the rock), “was that a good idea?”

“Probably not,” said the unmistakable voice of the Countess. “It’s unfortunate that I should lose such a valuable test subject, but she was right, you know. I can’t afford a variable like her running loose, and I have neither the time nor resources to assign a babysitter competent enough to restrain her.”

“… I apologize, Your Grace.”

“Oh, it’s not your fault, Sabrina. I should have known better than to allow her so much time unrestrained.” She sighed heavily. “I was just so eager to discover the full effects of Cataclysm. I couldn’t let her muscles atrophy on their own—it would have disturbed the experiment, you see?”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“I suppose the cadaver will prove useful, in its own way… I had wanted to do some tests… Ah, well. I really am far too busy at the moment. We’ve moved the wedding up to tonight, though I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of that mercenary. I do hope he’s able to deliver; I’d hate to kill the boy myself.”

Alya stiffened, fingers clenching against the rock wall behind her. Tonight?

“If it pleases Your Grace, I could—”

“No, no,” the Countess interrupted. “We need the giant to be seen. It deflects suspicion.”

“I see,” said Sabrina, voice hushed and awed. Alya didn’t see. What was there to be suspicious about? Why should anyone suspect the Countess would assassinate her best friend’s fiancé?

“Well, get her down from the table, then. I have to go rustle up a brute squad. Or rather, rustle up your father, and have him rustle up a brute squad.”

“Could… could you tell him I said hello?”

“Of course,” said the Countess. Her voice was farther away, as though she were moving up the stairs. “And don’t look so hesitant about it. Once the princess is out of the way, you’ll be free as a bird.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” said Sabrina. The door slammed closed.

Alya let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Slowly, so as not to splash in the stream, she made her way back towards the grate.

The pale woman was adjusting a ratcheting table, strapped to which was Ladybug, who was very, very dead.

Alya swallowed.

Okay. So… she wasn’t going to get revenge. She had to tell the pirates she’d failed them, and their beloved leader was dead. She’d never repay her debt to the enigmatic captain, never thank her for dispatching Papillon.

She sank low in the water, sliding through the hole in the grate.

No.

She was Alya Césaire, and she never gave up on anything.

While the pale woman’s back was to her, Alya slid out of the stream, crept forward, and pounced.

Immediately, Sabrina resisted her grasp, bucking against the forearm Alya pressed to her throat, but it was futile; Alya had learned her stranglehold from Nino, and knocking her unconscious was the work of a few moments.

She turned to the body.

Ladybug looked small in death.

She had dark circles under her half-open eyes, freckles standing out against pale skin. She was still damp from her escape attempt, plastering her thick black hair to her forehead. Her mask and brilliant red shirt had been taken, her hair let down, and without them she looked naked, despite the cotton undershirt she still wore.

The restraints had been removed, leaving her sprawled unceremoniously upon the table in a cruel joke of a wake. Alya felt for a pulse, sighing heavily when she couldn’t find one. Bitter tears formed in her eyes.

The door opened, and Alya whirled, expecting the Countess, her hand flying to Trixx’s hilt—only to still when she saw a grief-stricken Kim staring down at her.

“No,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “No, no, no.”

“I’m sorry,” said Alya. “I’m—there has to be more we can do.”

“She’s—she’s gone?” asked Kim. He sounded as if he were holding back tears, and the knot of guilt in Alya’s chest writhed. “She doesn’t…? She can’t be. Not Captain.”

He had an armful of something, a tangle of fabric and blades.

“What—what do you have there?” asked Alya through the lump in her throat, trying to distract him.

“I… it’s her personal effects,” said Kim. “I thought she’d want her sword, and… and her knives, and things. I… When the Countess came back, I didn’t think—”

“It’s not your fault,” Alya said firmly. It’s mine, she didn’t say. “Give—give those to me. I’ll take her out the well so no one will see you helping us. I—I have an idea.”

“You do?” asked Kim, desperate hope in his eyes as he drew nearer and passed her the assorted blades. He swallowed as he approached the body, pulling a ragged swath of red fabric from the pile and laying it over Ladybug’s torso, as if she were cold. “How—how can I help?”

“What do you know,” said Alya slowly, “about the king’s penultimate miracle man?”

The story was this:

The old miracle man had lived in the cottage over the Cave of the Cats for around fifty years, tending diligently to the king’s health, until such a time as the princess decided he wasn’t doing enough to slow the progression of time, and replaced him with a slightly younger, slightly more capable miracle man. That miracle man had proceeded to take up residence in the cottage, displacing the old miracle man’s household, helped the king for a few years, and promptly died of high cholesterol.

He hadn’t been an especially good miracle man.

Rather than asking the old miracle man to return to service, the cottage had been awarded to the Countess, trusting in science to preserve the king.

The old miracle man had been very bitter about this, but being as old as he was, hadn’t seen fit to leave the area. He still lived in a run-down shack on the outskirts of Florin City, between the wall that protected the richer districts from the rabble, and the woods that housed dangerous wildlife.

He fit right in.

It didn’t take long to find him, Alya hauling Ladybug back down the labyrinthine tunnels in a fraction of the time it had taken her to navigate them, thanks to the rope still tied around her middle, and Nino hauling both of them out of the well. They’d disguised Ladybug as best they could, draping a blanket over her as Nino carried her in his arms like a sack of potatoes.

Nino swallowed hard as Alya knocked on the door. This was it; this was their last hope.

A Judas window slid open, revealing a scowling face with so many wrinkles it would have blended into the wood, had it not been ghostly pale.

“What,” said the owner of the face, a gruff and impatient man who Nino guessed was around a thousand years old.

“Are you the miracle m—”

“Nope!” said the old man, and he shut the window in their faces.

Alya and Nino exchanged bewildered glances, and, tentatively, Alya knocked again.

The window slid back open.

“What,” said the old man.

“Ex—excuse me,” said Alya, straightening a little. “I was told that this was the home of the last great miracle man, and I need a miracle.”

“Finding a great man in this hovel would be a miracle indeed,” said the old man, eyes narrowing.

“Please, sir,” said Nino behind her. “We haven’t much time. The wedding is tonight.”

“Oh, tonight, is it?” drawled the old man. His demeanor changed abruptly; though he was still scowling, he seemed less openly hostile. “And you want me to do the ceremony? That’s alright, I suppose. It’s unorthodox these days, to get a miracle man.” He closed the window, unbolting a series of latches and opening the door. “I suppose your previous one died, eh?”

Alya and Nino, once again, exchanged bewildered glances.

“W—well yes,” Nino began, lifting Ladybug’s blanketed corpse a little awkwardly, as if to say, That’s why we’re here, but the old miracle man pressed on.

“It’s no surprise,” he droned, moving into the house and brushing a large black cat off the table, sweeping crumbs and papers aside. He sat down, pulling out a sheaf of parchment, and produced a quill from his sleeve, licking the tip to wet it. “There are few of us left, these days. Only old Plagg in these parts, and for what? Ceremonies. Now then, what are your names?”

“Our names?” asked Nino, confusion growing.

“For the certificate,” said the old man, impatiently. “I can’t exactly marry you if I don’t know your names.”

“No, no no no,” said Alya, waving her hands wildly in front of her. “It’s not—it isn’t our wedding! It’s the princess’s!”

The man’s face darkened. “Ah,” he said, setting his quill down so precisely it managed to be intimidating. “Then what are you bothering me for? I won’t work for that little brat again, I can assure you. Put me to death all you like; I shan’t do it.”

“We don’t want you to,” said Alya. “As… as a matter of fact, we came to ask you to help us stop it.”

The old man looked up. Alya gestured to Nino, who drew the blanket back from Ladybug’s lifeless face. Slowly, the old man stood, and his eyes seemed to glitter in the early morning sun.

“Well now,” he said, grinning a bright, dangerous grin. “That’s interesting.”

“She’s only been dead about an hour,” said Nino, “but she’s our only hope. She can save the whole kingdom, if she’s… if she were alive.”

“Lay her on the table,” said the old man. Nino obliged, easing her head down gently, as if she could feel it. He didn’t feel right handling the corpse roughly, even if she were never to wake.

The old man poked and prodded at her, paying special attention to the incision in her elbow. He lifted her eyelids, opened her mouth, inspected her fingertips.

“Well now,” he said again. “That’s very interesting.”

“Can you help?” Alya asked quietly.

“I can,” said the old man. “Though whether or not I do remains to be seen. You got money?”

“… No,” Nino admitted reluctantly, suddenly wishing he’d worked another day job. “We—we can get some later?”

“I don’t do installment plans,” said the old man, scowling again.

“Could we barter?” asked Alya. “We have some… some decent blades.” She produced the small armory Ladybug had apparently had stowed on her person when apprehended.

The old man eyed Trixx at her hip, but gave the others a cursory glance. He did a double take when he saw Ladybug’s longsword, plucking it delicately from the pile. “Ah,” he said, staring at the strange inscription on the fuller. “You weren’t lying, eh.”

“A—about what?” asked Nino. “We haven’t lied at all, sir. Please—”

“Tikki!” yelled the old man, so loud Nino’s ears rang. From below came a muffled clattering, and after a moment, a hatch in the floor opened to reveal a woman as ancient as her counterpart, dark as he was pale.

“What?” she asked, squinting at Nino and Alya as if they were the ones to have summoned her. They stared back, baffled.

“One of yours,” said the old man, and tossed the sword to her. Nino almost yelled, starting forward to catch it, but with a swift, fluid motion, the old woman—Tikki?—snatched it from the air by its scarlet hilt. She brought it in front of her face with a small frown, which quickly changed to surprise, and then suspicion. She looked back up at the pair of them.

“Start some tea, Plagg. We’re in the presence of the Dread Pirate Ladybug. Which of you…?” she asked, climbing out of the hatch.

“Uh,” said Nino, pointing at Ladybug’s lifeless corpse, “her.”

Tikki blinked, apparently not having noticed the dead person on her table. She shot Plagg a scowl, then turned her attention to Ladybug.

“Ah,” she said softly. “She’s so young. You’ve come for a miracle, I take it?”

“Yes ma’am,” said Alya, fervently.

“A quick one,” put in Nino.

The old woman inspected Ladybug in the same way Plagg had done, tutting whenever she found an injury.

“How, um—how do you know her sword?” asked Alya.

“I made it,” said Tikki simply. “One of the few weapons I ever created, as a matter of fact.”

“You did?” Alya asked, gaping. “But it’s so—I mean, if you’ve only made a few—it’s a very high quality sword. I—I’m just surprised.”

“Do you know swords?” asked Tikki, smiling a little. “Yours is beautiful. I’ve never seen its equal.”

“Thank you,” said Alya, quiet again. “My mother made it. She was a swordsmith herself.”

“Marlena’s girl,” said Tikki simply, and Alya jolted as if struck by lightning.

“You knew my mother?” she demanded immediately.

“Oh, a long time ago,” said Tikki, sifting through a small bag beside the table. “A long, long time ago. Do you know what sort of poison it was?”

“What?” asked Alya, blinking. “Oh. Uh—they called it Cataclysm. An apoptoxin.”

“An apoptoxin!” remarked Plagg, who was setting out cups. “Well, well, well. I take it the Countess finally got her act together.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” said Nino, shifting uncomfortably.

“Were you there?” Plagg asked them, so eagerly Tikki flicked his arm. “When she died? How long did it take? The dosage?”

“It was only a few minutes,” said Alya, frowning at him.

Plagg cackled, clapping his hands together as if he’d just been granted his greatest wish. “Minutes! Oh, that foolish, foolish girl. This will be a delight.”

“So—so you can fix her?” asked Nino.

“My boy,” said Plagg, “I am a miracle man. I can fix far worse than a petulant child’s science experiment gone rogue.”

“As it so happens, death is a specialty of Plagg’s,” said Tikki, who had taken over preparing the tea. “And the Countess is something of an amateur.”

Plagg fiddled with one of Ladybug’s limp arms, scraping away dried blood and scooping a few fresh drops onto a small piece of glass. Nino stared.

“Uncoagulated,” Plagg remarked to Tikki.

“And?” she asked, as he inspected the sample under a peculiar instrument, rather like a telescope.

“Apoptosis,” said Plagg, smug. “Barely a speck of necrotic damage.”

“What does that mean?” asked Alya, scowling again.

The miracle man blinked at her, as if he’d forgotten she was there. “There’s very little I can tell you that you’ll understand,” he warned, “but essentially… apoptosis is… a planned death. Something your body intended to do. I’ve no idea how the Countess has managed to elicit the process, but—”

“Why would your body plan to die?” Nino interrupted, squinting down at Ladybug. “Like a self-preservation thing? It just hurt too much?”

“No, no,” said Plagg, shaking his head. “That’s… you won’t ever die from it all at once. It’s for things like losing baby teeth, or scabs falling off. I suppose the atrophy would prove fatal eventually, as would have been the case here, had the Countess not—I presume—panicked.”

“Panicked?” echoed Alya.

“If it took her only minutes to die, there simply wasn’t time for it all to happen,” Plagg explained. “Why, I’d wager her heart simply gave out. An easy fix, as I said.”

“She’s been dead for a while, though,” said Nino, a little nervously. “Will she be alright when you wake her?” He’d met a sailor on his way across the strait who had been drowned for a while, and everyone said he was changed when they managed to revive him. Perhaps it was different with poison.

“My boy,” said Plagg, leveling him with a look that had Nino wilting, “what part of miracle are you not understanding?”

“Alright,” said Nino. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You can go feed the chickens if you’d like,” offered Tikki, smiling brightly. “We’ll need some time to put the cure together.”

“The cure for death,” Alya muttered to herself as she led the way into the small yard. The chickens scattered away from her stalking pace, parting like a wave to let her through. Nino followed through the small gap she’d created, even as it began to close back up around him.

He thought abruptly of his parents, of the home they had shared, with its own chickens. They never parted for him either.

It had been a long time since he’d thought of his warm, sun-spangled youth. The heartfelt smiles and sincere words of praise felt more like a dream than a memory in this place, surrounded on all sides by death and destruction and the dark machinations of the state. His head began to ache, and as he sat beside Alya against a low wall, his eyes filled with tears.

“Hey,” said Alya beside him, looking up in evident concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” said Nino. He sniffed a little, desperate to keep the tears from spilling over, from admitting defeat. “Everything about this is wrong. Papillon is dead and he was working against you all the time, and Ladybug is dead and she spared us, she doesn’t deserve to be dead—but the Countess does, and the Countess is still alive, and my head hurts, and I’m tired and hungry and I miss my parents. I wish they were here.”

Alya was quiet for a while, rubbing reassuring patterns into his back.

“I never asked what happened to them,” she said at length. “I was always so concerned with what happened to my mother that I barely think of people as having parents.”

“They died a long time ago,” said Nino, managing to choke some of the emotion down, wrestling it into a knot that sat heavy in his chest. “An earthquake.”

“I’m sorry,” said Alya. He could tell she meant it. Papillon had never meant it, when he doled out little platitudes like that. “That’s almost worse. At least I have someone to stab about it.”

“I had them longer,” said Nino quietly, and it was meant as a concession but it didn’t feel like one. Longer, yes, but not long enough.

“I guess we both have it pretty shitty,” said Alya, taking his hand. He looked down at her to see a rueful smile, and she pressed some chickenfeed into his palm with her free hand. “Families, huh?”

“Families,” echoed Nino, smiling for the first time all day.

It was late afternoon when Plagg and Tikki had finished their preparations. Despite being repeatedly assured that Ladybug’s corpse would keep, Alya felt antsy as they clustered around the narrow table.

“Now, there’s no telling how she’ll react to this, emotionally speaking,” Tikki told them. She was cleaning the wound in the crook of Ladybug’s elbow, not looking at them just yet.

“Will she remember—what it’s like?” asked Nino, haltingly. Alya glanced at him; he seemed shy, shyer than usual, but she supposed he was still feeling a little shaken by all of this. She’d rarely heard him as upset as he’d been in the yard earlier.

“What, death? Of course not,” said Plagg, huffing like it was a ridiculous thing to ask. Alya frowned at him, and Tikki paused in wrapping a bandage around Ladybug’s arm to swat him on the shoulder.

“It’s a perfectly reasonable question,” she told him, scowling. “They don’t know, they aren’t miracle men.”

“How’s she gonna make new memories if she’s dead? Her brain ain’t exactly recording at the moment,” Plagg protested, rubbing the place she’d hit him sullenly. “No, she won’t remember. She’ll remember dying though, which is what Tikki was saying.”

“Will she be in pain?” asked Alya. She hoped Ladybug wouldn’t think she were still in the Cave of the Cats—even if she weren’t at full strength, she’d pose a significant threat. Although between Alya’s steel and Nino’s strength subduing her shouldn’t take too long, it was time they couldn’t afford to waste.

“No, the cure will take care of that. There may be some lingering nerve damage, but if anything it will be numbness, at least in the beginning.”

“How lingering?” asked Nino, concern evident as he leaned over Plagg’s shoulder to peer at the little pill he and Tikki had managed to put together.

“Well, as long as she doesn’t push herself, it shouldn’t be a problem,” said Tikki slowly, “but it’s likely she’ll never regain that functionality. We can only hope it isn’t too extensive.”

“Right,” said Alya, swallowing back the lump of dread that was growing in her throat. She’d be alive. That was what mattered. They didn’t need her in top physical condition, they needed her mind. Papillon had never been physically imposing, that’s what the rest of the Crowd was for—if Ladybug could use her mind, she could slot easily into that position. It might frustrate her, but…

Well, but nothing. She could get frustrated all she wanted, at least she’d be alive again.

“What you’re going to want to do is feed her the cure about twenty minutes before you need her at full strength,” Plagg instructed. “It’s got an energy boost in it that should make up for having been dead all day, but when that wears off she’s gonna be real tired, especially if she was before the dying thing.”

“I think she was up all night,” sighed Alya. She could relate; despite the little snatches of sleep she had managed, she was too strung-out to feel it.

“Well, great,” said Plagg sourly. “If you kids get caught, don’t drag me into it, alright? Just tell the Countess her poison sucks, and so does she.”

“We won’t get caught,” said Nino. “We’ll get you your house back and everything, sir.”

“Well now,” said Plagg, brightening significantly. “That’s more like it. A little respect.”

“Well, well, well,” Tikki droned in a poor imitation, rolling her eyes. “Don’t encourage him, Nino sweetheart. He only gets worse.”

“I age like a fine wine, you—”

“Make sure to keep her hydrated now,” Tikki interrupted, pressing the cure into Alya’s hand and curling her fingers around it, patting them in reassurance. “It will help stave off exhaustion, at least.”

“Thank you,” said Alya, through the lump of emotion forming in her throat. “Both of you. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t let it go to waste, kid,” said Plagg, with none of his typical venom.

Nino bundled Ladybug back up in the blanket, and they slipped back into the city with the rest of the festival-goers. Everyone was laughing and excited, thrilled to celebrate Florin’s anniversary, heedless of the danger in their midst.

Alya led the way, slipping up a narrow staircase to crest the wall and get a view of the castle. Nino followed, as low to the ground as he could, and they all managed to settle against the battlements’ crenellations without attracting suspicion.

“Ready?” she asked him.

“Ready,” he answered.

Together they managed to force the cure down Ladybug’s throat, staring, waiting—

Ladybug’s eyes popped open, and she immediately curled in on herself as a fit of coughing wracked her body.

“Wh—what—” she tried, between coughs.

“It’s a long story,” said Alya, sagging in relief. “The important things are: Adrien is marrying the Princess tonight, you may experience some lightheadedness, and I would very much like to murder the Countess.”

Ladybug blinked at her.

“The sword,” she croaked after a moment, placing the memory. “Hm. You and me both. I do believe she tried to kill me just now.”

“Ooh, uh, about that—”

“Yeah, she succeeded,” said Alya, wincing. “Like I said, a long story. You’ve been dead for hours, now. Or, you were. You’re alive again now. For good?” She glanced to Nino, who nodded in confirmation. “Yeah. I mean, not like immortal for good, but—”

“I understand,” Ladybug interrupted. “May I have your names, please?”

“Alya Césaire.”

“Nino. Uh, Lahiffe.”

“Marinette,” supplied Ladybug, to Alya’s surprise. Her own crew didn’t even call her that. “Would you two perhaps be interested in crashing a wedding?”

#miraculous ladybug #clare's writing #the dread pirate ladybug

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roystonwrites · 6 years

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A Chance Encounter

This is a chapter of a story @kitistrasza and I had been working on a long time ago, that’s kind of fallen to the wayside. This was supposed to be the beginning chapter/prologue to the story, but we both ended up not really being fans of it. Nevertheless, I find it a decent one-shot. Hope you enjoy!

WARNING: Contains blood, gore, and animal death

A caravan of dragons marched down a muddy path. The sky was darkened with a thick blanket of clouds, no good for flight. Had it not been for their important mission; they would have stopped to rest, but theirs was a journey to Pracia, the largest Elven city on the Dragon Nation’s border. They had come to collect their annual tithe to Jene’shaya, Empress and Mother to all Dragons. This year it was especially important. Some of the elder Dragons had predicted a harsher winter, and perhaps even a shortage of food. Pracia had chosen to pay their tithe this year in salted meats, which they would no doubt find good use for as the frost set in and their hunters would barely find even a starved rabbit to satisfy their hunger.

So they continued their tedious trek on foot, their great claws leaving imprints deep in the mud, their feet and legs covered with dirt. It had been a full moon’s cycle since they had hunted decent prey, but they pressed on. At their last stop in a village to the west, they had heard of a band of dragon-hunting assassins that frequented this road. Though they were easily capable of handling any mere man or elf that came their way, the caravan kept its pace nonetheless. Some dragons drew rough hewn wood and iron wagons behind themselves, staying mostly in the center of the formation. The larger dragons, some with large plates of bronze armor upon their underbellies, formed the front of the caravan. In the back, a few smaller dragons flew close to the ground, keeping a watchful eye for any foe that may be tracking them.

They were of many vibrant colors, Dragons of green, blue, yellows, some a combination of several, dotted the group. Their wagons carried various goods; pottery, masonry, various armors, but not a scrap of food was seen. The caravan had exhausted their supplies a few days ago, and had yet to come across any decent hunting grounds in the days since they had left the last pitiful excuse of a village.

Soon enough, one spoke up. “Keldresh.” A smaller dragon of a light iridescent cyan color said to the dragon in the front of the formation.

“Yes, sister?” The pale, nearly opalescent, white dragon responded, turning her head but still walking. “It has been several days since we’ve had a full meal, my lady. If we do not hunt soon, it’s very likely we will begin losing numbers. Our vanguard especially are suffering.” She spoke with a slight edge to her voice that gave hint to her rising concern. Keldresh sighed, looking toward the ground. The land they now walked through was bordered by two mountain ranges, the only food they could hope to find here would be ram, maybe with luck a lost sheep, but certainly not enough to feed all those in the thunder of dragons. “We’d have to hunt the rams here to extinction just to make a meal for us all.” She spoke in Draconic tongue, simple guttural noises to the uninformed. “If I’m right, there are forests to the north, not too far from some fields. If we can scale the mountain, we could perhaps find a herd of deer.” The young dragon spoke. “If we had the strength to scale the mountain, that just might be a good idea.” She said solemnly, she placed a claw to her chin, perhaps such a course of action would be truly a good idea, if a few of the younger, more energetic whelps looped around to the valley...

Her thoughts halted with a sense of urgency, Keldesh raised her wings toward the sky quickly, signalling the caravan to come to a halt. The caravan stopped not a moment afterward. Wheels came to a halt, those in flight came to the ground, and all that was to be heard was the gust of wind that greeted the group as they now rested their tired legs, waiting for their leader to speak. Though no words came. Keldresh stood still, her ghostly, near see-through,wings still outstretched. Her eyes slowly scanned the horizon. Far down the path, coming through the billowing fog, was a group of people clad in dark leathers and mismatched chainmail. Most of those in the forefront, held long pikes with wicked curved blades, those she could make out hidden among the stones and mountain crevices held bows knocked with arrows, their fletchings of earthen tones to blend into the scenery. She tensed at the sight, her wings going to her sides as she let out a hiss. The group of dragons tightened their ranks. Though this band of soldiers could not be more than two-hundred strong, They endeavored to not lose a single dragon. As the group neared, they soon came to a halt as an elf in the front raised his hand. The two parties were not far from each other, but all one could hear was the occasional clatter of metal on metal from the chainmail armor, as dragon and soldier stared at each other in silence. An elf, a tall being clad in bright crimson armor, dented from many battles, as scarred as the man himself, spoke, his voice echoing through the mountain range. “We are the Army of the Free-Folk. Two-hundred and fifty strong. We come from Pracia, where our families suffer from your annual tithe. You come to take that which does not belong to you, but the hard working farmers of our city.” He continued. The soldiers behind him were silent. “Word has traveled far of the harsh winter your elders have predicted. We have come, acting of our own accord, to bring an end to you monsters taking advantage of us.” As if on cue, the troops raised their weapons and yelled, barking insults at the great beasts in front of them. Keldresh looked down upon the elven leader, and spoke in what common language she knew. “Your kind do not frighten us. We have traveled days on end for this, we’ve spent several nights going to sleep without food. Your army, if it could be called an army, will not make us turn back.” She spoke, not taking a step forward, but keeping her piercing gaze on the elf below her. “Surely you fear to lose even one?” He responded, “Your people are dying, beast. You’ve no way to replace the sisters you lose if you continue on this path.” Keldresh let out a low growl.

“You say that as if we will lose any.”

In an instant, she took to the sky, as did the rest of the dragons that followed her. They flew above the small fighting force, safely out of range of their weapons, a few dozen dark silhouettes circling the clan like vultures. The leader yelled out a command in some elven tongue, and the clan began to make a circular formation; those with spears making up the outer edge while those with bows stood in the center. For a moment, all was quiet.

In the dark vortex above, a dragon came surging down towards the soldiers. Archers let arrows fly, and those with spears to spare hurled them towards the dragon; a large streak of bright emerald flame hurtling towards them. Though many shots made their mark, the dragon made contact with the ground, sending out a shockwave that knocked many soldiers to their backs. She let out a great roar, digging her claws into the poor souls trapped beneath her massive body, leaving them rent to pieces in a bloody mess. The group quickly moved out of range of her snapping teeth, her neck whipping about like an angered snake. A hissing noise was heard amidst the yelling, and soon smoking arrows were let loose in a second volley. As the arrows hit their mark on the great beast’s hide she found herself blinded in clouds of thick smoke, letting loose an angered roar that shook the mountain pass. She back pedaled into the stone walls as she found herself blinded by this mortal trickery. The group took this chance, charging toward the dragon, the pikemen jabbing their weapons into her pale exposed underbelly. As she doubled over in pain, her snapping mouth in her panic claiming another soldier, the troop took to climbing over her back like ants, hacking at her wings, her neck, and legs, until eventually she fell silent, not even able to take flight. Blood leaked from many so many wounds by the time her body hit the ground a river of crimson had formed at the tips of her claws. The group wasted no time celebrating their kill, quickly moving away from the dragon’s corpse and stepping over the bodies of their fallen comrades. As they moved, two more dragons came to the fight, roaring in rage at the loss of their sister. One breathed a stream of fire into the crowd, setting many of the annoying creatures ablaze, while the other, set upon the crowd with her back claws, pulling the earthbound beings into the sky and dropping them like a robin's egg from a tree. Dragons swooped and roared, arrows dug deep into the scaled hides of many, bodies were strewn about the blood-soaked mud of the path, as the battle grew fierce and brought many crashing to the cold ground. The red-clad leader found himself victim to Keldresh herself, who swooped down from the clouds, picking him from the crowd as the other soldiers were distracted. Her blade-like teeth crushed his bones beneath his armor, and he let out a scream of agony until she bit completely through him. Just as suddenly as it had started, the battle was over. Several bodies of dragons, and every one of the soldiers that had not fled the scene, lay in a disorganized heap. Bent spears, broken bows, and rings chainmail that had been torn apart with claw and tooth lay scattered in the mud. Keldresh, still pulling a few arrows from her hide, spoke up to the rest of the crowd. “How many did we lose?” A smaller dragon spoke up. “Seven, my sister. These soldiers were not a simple militia.” Keldresh bowed her head in agreement. “There is more to this than we see, I believe. We will make sure to discuss with with the governing ruler of Pracia when we get there. Until then, lick your wounds and prepare to march. If we are lucky, there may be something left of their abandoned camp we can pick from for rations and resources to help on our journey.” “...And our dead?” The small dragon inquired. Keldresh thought for a moment. “Leave them, we’ve no time to send them off, we can collect them on our return if the weather turns in our favor.” The dragons did what they could to treat their wounds, the more desperate picking up a member of the slain militia to eat, and they left, their massive prints pressed deep into the muddy trail as they continued on their journey.

#RWfantasy #Fantasy #short story #writing #dragons #dragon #elves #elf #war

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senatorrorgana · 7 years

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If Only We Had More Time - Three

a/n: sorry this took so long! i feel like i'm always apologizing for this kinda thing, but sometimes time just gets away from me with my classes and everything and i forget things until like 2 weeks later and it hits me that i should update fics! hopefully you guys aren't too bothered by the waiting, thanks for reading this fic! i just looked at how many kudos and comments this has already and it's insane, i hope you guys stick around for more! <3

rating: m

pairing: diana prince x steve trevor

ao3: (x)

“Thank you again for bringing me back here.” Diana said as the patrol car pulled up in front of the hotel.

“It’s no problem, it’s nice to know at least someone from that party will be getting home safe.” Steve said.

Before Diana could even make a move towards the door, Steve was already getting out of the car and walking around to her, pulling the door open for her. She missed that about Steve, his kind heart and nature; it was certainly even more rare in the times they lived in now.

“Thank you.” Diana smiled once she was out of the car. “Are you going back to the party?”

“More than likely, unless something comes in before I get back there and, well, it’s Gotham after all, there’s always something going on.” Steve shrugged.

Steve winced in pain and pinched the bridge of his nose, he seemed to be going through the same pain he went through at the party. This must be Ares’ influence, Diana thought. It was almost like a reflex that made her go up to him in worry, resting her hand on his shoulder and trying to fight off the worried expression on her face but failing.

“Are you alright?” Diana asked.

“Yeah, it’s just this migraine again, I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” He tried to reassure her, pulling her hand away from his head but Diana was still able to see that pain in his eyes. “You should probably get inside though, even in this part of town, Gotham isn’t safe at night.”

“I can handle myself.” Diana smirked, if only he could remember how well she could handle herself.

He stopped and looked at her, truly looked at her, as if he was trying to piece something together. For a moment, Diana was foolish enough to think that maybe he could remember something good between them, something that Ares had not twisted or Hades had wiped away. But instead that look quickly faded away; she couldn’t help that her heart sank just a little bit after that.

“Goodnight, Ms. Prince.” Steve nodded.

“Goodnight.” Diana replied with a sigh.

Steve waited until she made it inside the hotel safely, and as she watched that patrol car drive off, she couldn’t stop thinking about Hades’ warning. If Ares still had an influence on him, how deeply did it run? What exactly did he do to Steve other than twist his memories of her? And how was she going to get him out of the city without awakening whatever Ares left dormant in him? For once, despite knowing the world and how it worked after all of these years, Diana wished that something would be simple.

Gotham was truly a city that never slept, in the few years Steve had been here and been part of the force, he knew that was especially true for the crime of the city, it hadn’t earned the name of one of the most dangerous cities in America for nothing. Being part of the GCPD truly meant something if you were willing to risk your life to hunt down criminals, murders, and psycho clowns out there alongside a masked bat vigilante. Steve had been out on the raids where they cleared out places known to be affiliated with the Joker, and he’d been on normal night patrols; but in Gotham, a normal night patrol could turn into a deadly encounter just as quickly as one of the raids could.

It didn’t take long for Steve and his partner, Jeff Miller, to get a call about a robbery in progress from a jewelry store, someone had tripped the silent alarm and no one knew if any hostages were still in the store. By the time they got there, there were two other patrols keeping the building and perimeter locked down, the criminals would be getting antsy by now knowing that they were surrounded. Steve went in with Miller and another one of the officers that had already been there, more backup was on the way considering the size of the store, but they had to know if innocent people were trapped in there too before the backup came in an mowed these crooks down.

They’d found two of the three that were working in the store and that the crooks had left mostly unguarded. There was supposedly another one of their co-workers deeper in the building where the thieves were now, opening up the safe for them to take their money and whatever other jewels they wanted.

“Miller, stay back here with these two, I’m going in there to get the other one.” Steve volunteered.

“Are you crazy? They’ll kill you before you even get near them. We have to wait for backup to show up and let them know.” Miller replied.

“The minute backup comes in they’re going to be even more anxious and probably kill them, I can’t let that happen if I know I can do something about it.” Steve replied.

“Yeah, and if they spot you they’ll kill the both of you.” Miller argued.

“I know.” Steve sighed, giving a slight nod.

Before Miller could argue again, Steve was already moving towards the hostage, he could faintly hear his partner over the radio trying to tell them about the situation.

It didn’t take long for Steve to find the last hostage, a woman tied up and gagged with tears streaming down her face, terrified by the thieves around her. One was circling her like a vulture, a halloween mask of a clown on over his face and a pistol in his hand, he was the least armed of his friends but it was more than enough to keep a hostage from doing anything stupid. His friends wore masks too, animal masks from what Steve could tell with assault rifles strapped to their backs while the tried to work on the safe. He was so focused on the hostage, he completely overlooked a fourth thief who placed a gun to the back of his head and made Steve freeze dead in his tracks.

All Steve could remember before hearing the gun go off was everything going dark and some rage consuming him.

Diana was getting ready for the day, she planned on going to the police department and making up some excuse or another to get ahold of Steve again, she had the news on in the background mostly for noise, until a certain name caught her attention.

“Last night, after a robbery at Jameson Jewelers, a GCPD officer by the name of Steven Trevor is in the hospital with what should have been fatal wounds sustained to the head and torso. The officer has miraculously survived, though he is being kept in intensive care. The hostages who survived thanks to the officers actions are calling the officer a ‘true hero’ and they along with the officers of the GCPD are hoping for Officer Trevor to make a fast recovery.” The anchorwoman announced.

She was halfway out the door by the time the report finished, of course Steve would still try to be the hero, but nearly fatal wounds and surviving? That wasn’t something most humans could recover from, especially to the head. Diana knew in her gut that this was part of the effect Ares had on Steve, and if Hades was right, it may only be a matter of time before something truly terrible happens.

#wonder woman #my writing #wondertrev #diana prince #steve trevor #diana prince x steve trevor

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gokinjeespot · 5 years

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off the rack #1279

Sunday, September 15, 2019

I'm posting this a day early because I've decided to go fishing tomorrow morning, possibly for the last time this season. It's been very windy this weekend which has kept me off the water. The winds tomorrow morning are supposed to be light so I will get on the lake and try my luck. My expectations are low as fall temperatures have settled in and my lake seems to be fished out. I've seen many boats in previous years and I am sure not everyone was following the rules of size and limits. I noticed a lot less boats out this year most likely because people aren't catching anything and not returning. I am happy if I land one fish and just enjoy my time doing something I love to do. I'll be busy doing the Capital Comic Book Convention next weekend, September 22. Dear friends from Calgary are visiting the weekend after that (September 29) and the weekend after that (October 5) we're doing a road trip to Freeport, Maine. I hope I don't get detained at the border.

Guardians of the Galaxy The Prodigal Sun #1 - Peter David (writer) Francesco Manna (art) Espen Grundetjern (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Prince Prah'd'gul returns home to avenge the death of his father. He has an extreme reaction to his brother's betrayal and the ending made me chuckle. Peter David likes a good pun so the Sun in the title is the joke in this issue, not the Guardians of the Galaxy. Prince Prah'd'gul is a very powerful new character and it will be interesting to see where he pops up next.

Ironheart #10 - Eve L. Ewing (writer) Luciano Vecchio (art) Geoffo (layouts) Matt Milla (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). Riri and Shuri must stop a villain from gaining unlimited power but they are up against some group that includes a long lost relative of Riri's. This mystery is enough to keep me reading.

Moon Knight Annual #1 - Cullen Bunn (writer) Ibrahim Moustafa & Matt Horak (art) Mike Spicer (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). This is an "Acts of Evil" one-shot. The basic concept of "Acts of Evil" is a super hero versus a super villain story. Here we have Moon Knight trying to keep Kang the Conqueror from getting three Egyptian artefacts that will give the bad guy complete control over time and remake reality in his own image. I should have stopped reading as soon as I saw who the villain was. Marc Spector jumps around in time and gets help from other Moon Knights to thwart Kang. Reality is saved once again. The end. These kinds of stories don't thrill me.

Detective Comics #1011 - Peter J. Tomasi (writer) Christian Duce (art) Luis Guerrero (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). This issue along with #1010 was a nice two-parter with Batman versus Deadshot but it wasn't very interesting. I liked the two old World War II castaways but I didn't like this version of Deadshot. I like it better when Deadshot is a semi-good guy.

Punisher Kill Krew #2 - Gerry Duggan (writer) Juan Ferreyra (art) VC's Cory Petit (letters). This book is just too ridiculously fun. Frank finds an unexpected ally while hunting down the frost giant that killed a family during the War of the Realms. It's the last person that I would have expected to be in this story. The last page has another surprise appearance that makes me want to read the next issue for sure.

Sabrina the teenage witch #5 - Kelly Thompson (writer) Veronica Fish & Andy Fish (art) Jack Morelli (letters). The first story arc ends with Sabrina saving the day. Yay. The next story doesn't hit the racks until 2020 and it should be good with Sabrina's secret identity in jeopardy.

Black Cat #4 - Jed MacKay (writer) Travel Foreman (art) Brian Reber (colours) Ferran Delgado (letters). The Fox has enlisted the help of Felicia and her henchmen for his final heist before he retires. That's why the robbery at Doctor Strange's house last time and this issue it's the headquarters of the Fantastic Four. Johnny is the dupe but plans go awry and a super villain pops up to make matters worse on the last page. We haven't seen this blowhard in a while.

Catwoman #15 - Ram V (writer) Mirka Andolfo (art) Arif Prianto (colours) Saida Temofonte (letters). I didn't mind Selina's move to Villa Hermosa after the non-nuptials but the change in writer and artist lowered my enjoyment of this title. I will be putting the cat out after this issue.

Miles Morales: Spider-Man #10 - Saladin Ahmed (writer) Javier Garron (art) David Curiel (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). If you noticed the higher $4.99 US cover price and the higher page count it's because this issue is Legacy #250. The main story features villains from Miles's original Ultimate Universe and a shocking final page that brought back vague memories for me of what happened back in that universe. The bonus story is the origin of Starling by Saladin Ahmed (writer) Annie Wu (art) Rachelle Rosenberg (colours) & VC's Cory Petit (letters). She's the granddaughter of the Vulture which explains the suit she wears so she can fly. I like that she's a good guy.

Young Justice #8 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) John Timms (art) Gabriel Eltaeb (colours) Wes Abbott (letters). Wes Abbott (letters). The team wind up in Earth-3, home of the Crime Syndicate of Amerika. This earth's version of Young Justice is just as nasty as their missing elders and we go from fight to fight as Wonder Girl, Superboy, Red Robin and Impulse battle their evil counterparts. It's all narrated by a native good guy who wants to rid their world of the evil doers. It was a nifty surprise to find out who that was. I can't wait for them to get out of this universe because constant fight scenes get boring.

Silver Surfer Black #4 - Donny Cates (writer) Tradd Moore (art) Dave Stewart (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). Reading this penultimate issue was a mind blowing experience. Part of this is Galactus's origin story and wow, was it ever cool. Tradd Moore really captures the cosmic scale of this story. The panels showing the Surfer towing Galactus's incubator were awesome.

Batman Universe #3 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Nick Derington (art) Dave Stewart (colours) Carlos M. Mangual (letters). Batman's time on Thanagar doesn't last long and he's back on Earth healing up at the Hall of Justice. Now we know that Vandal Savage has his hands on a mysterious power source and he's trying to use it to conquer the world. This issue has Batman teaming up with Green Lantern on Dinosaur Island. It's nice seeing a lighter side of Batman in this adventure.

King Thor #1 - Jason Aaron (writer) Esad Ribic (art) Ive Svorcina (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). I can't believe I've been reading Jason Aaron's Thor stories for seven years and loving every issue. This final story takes place in the far flung future as the universe is dying and King Thor and his granddaughters are trying to save it from Loki the All-Butcher. Between this and Silver Surfer Black the universe is in dire straits all due to the god Knull. This book looks so pretty. When the big bad shows up on the last page I just knew they couldn't keep him dead.

Powers of X #4 - Jonathan Hickman (writer) R.B. Silva (art) Marte Gracia (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). Each issue of this book and House of X builds on the new Mutant Foundation. Jonathan Hickman has made me care about the X-Men again. The beautiful art certainly helps too. I like when minor characters come to the fore. Mister Sinister and Doug Ramsey/Cypher are featured this issue.

Batman #78 - Tom King (writer) Clay Mann (art) Tomeu Morey (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). I loved this issue of True Romance. It's Selina and Bruce, wearing a Magnum P.I. disguise, getting all hot and bothered on a tropical isle. Batman continues to get stronger in preparation for his return to Gotham City and a confrontation with Bane. This single issue illustrates why I've enjoyed this title so much.

Age of Conan Valeria #2 - Meredith Finch (writer) Aneke (art) Andy Troy (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). I'm trying to decide if I want to continue reading this story of Valeria hunting for her brother's killer now that I know who it is. The art isn't bad but it sure doesn't do much for me.

Gwenpool Strikes Back #2 - Leah Williams (writer) David Baldeon (art) Jesus Aburtov (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). As if Gwenpool wasn't hilarious on her own, this issue ups the frantic antics quotient by teaming her with Deadpool. Their adventure inside 4 Yancy Street made me laugh a few times. I need this kind of humour now and then.

Loki #3 - Daniel Kibblesmith (writer) Oscar Bazaldua (art) David Curiel (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). I liked the little tour inside the House of Ideas with the Children of Eternity, Now and Then. I think they're a great new concept. This is a nice interlude issue before we get back to Loki's battle with Nightmare.

Daredevil #11 - Chip Zdarsky (writer) Marco Checchetto (art) Nolan Woodard (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). I wish there wasn't so much @#%*!-ing in this book. My brain tries to substitute the appropriate swear word which disrupts the reading process. I eventually smoothed things out by going bleep in my head whenever those annoying symbols appeared. Matt still hasn't donned the red costume yet and he even turned down help from an ex-girlfriend. Meanwhile, one of Daredevil's followers is nabbed by the cops while stopping a guy from abusing his girlfriend. I'm really happy Marco Checchetto is on this book. His Kingpin and Owl made an impact on me.

Invisible Woman #3 - Mark Waid (writer) Mattia De Iulis (art) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). If you passed on reading this solo adventure of Suzie's you're missing out on a great spy story and some gorgeous art, especially this issue. Sue looks hot in Adam Hughes's cover but she's even hotter inside going under cover to a posh party. This story is surprising me all to heck.

The Amazing Spider-Man #29 - Nick Spencer (writer) Francesco Manna (art) Carlos Lopez (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Here's another enduring love story. Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson have known each other for a very long time. MJ knows Peter's secret and she's cool with his super heroing. I'm glad they're a couple again. There's more action in this than Batman #78 with Spider-Man trying to rescue a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent from the bad guy with the outcome setting up more problems for the web-slinger.

Event Leviathan #4 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Alex Maleev (art) Josh Reed (letters). The identity of Leviathan is still a mystery and it's the reason I'm reading this story. I also think that it's going to have a significant affect on the DCU after it's done. Brian and Alex have collaborated for a long time and I have enjoyed all of their projects. It's unfortunate that more fans don't appreciate Alex's art. This book should be selling a lot better than it is.

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lionkingloststories · 6 years

Text

The Outsiders - Chapter 2

She is woken from her doze by a gentle nudge to her shoulder, and a quiet, ¨Nala?”

The lioness blinked the rain out of her eyes. The night had been cold and wet, and the rain had started several hours ago. The sky had not yet started to grow light, but Nala sat up immediately when she placed the voice. “What is it?”

Sarabi’s whiskers twitched in amusement at her alarm. “Nothing is wrong. Come up to the top of the rocks with us.”

Nala lightly shook her fur out and stretched the soreness out of her limbs before following the lioness out of the pitiful shelter the little grove of trees provided. As she passed Asali, the other lioness just falling back to sleep after her night vigil, she huffed. Nala understood why as she stepped out into the rain and was instantly soaked again.

Simba was perched atop the rocks they had sheltered against, eyes fixed on the dry grasslands to the west. When Nala followed his gaze, she found a single male lion approaching at a steady walk. He was downwind, but Nala knew him by sight. Sarabi joined them on the rock, utterly calm, but Simba was wide-eyed as he looked at his mother.

“What happens now?”

“Now you must wait for him to approach and find out what he wants. If we are lucky, he will offer an oath for himself and his mate. If we are not, then he will challenge you, and you must fight him.”

“But I don’t have to kill him?”

“No. If you win, he will leave. If he wins, then he can go before the subprides and try to convince them he should be king.”

“What if he refuses to leave?”

“Chumvi has never been dishonorable. If he challenges you and loses, I expect him to leave without protest.”

“Mum, if it’s that simple, why did no one challenge Scar?”

Sarabi sighed. “It is never that simple. Only a few lions are old enough to even consider such a challenge. Tojo’s leg would never permit him to win such a challenge, and if he attempted a challenge and lost then Scar would have killed him. And then he had a family to think of.”

“Everyone had a family to think of.” Simba insisted.

“Has anyone told you what happened to Ganya?” Nala asked. They had spent some time at Pride Rock, eating what they could and exchanging stories with Simba. He had told them about King Mufasa’s death, and they had told him about the famine. Hungry and impatient, the Pride hadn’t given him all the details.

“Mtoto’s brother? No. Why?”

“We have no proof…” Sarabi said, but hesitated in her explanation.

Nala took up the story. It was horrifying, but Simba must know what had happened if he was to understand the fear they had all lived under. “But it was rumored that the hyenas killed Ganya because he planned to challenge Scar.”

“Killing a challenger without a proper battle is against the Law,” Simba seemed shocked.

Sarabi was resigned. “Scar did many things that were against the Law.”

“He had an excuse,” Nala said, tail twitching. “It was not long after the death of my mother, and there were some who tried to blame the hyena for her death. They had no witnesses, and so Scar took it as an attempt to drive a wedge between himself and the hyenas. He dismissed Ganya’s death as the same.”

“After that none of the males would speak to Zazu about a challenge. If Scar would have one challenger murdered, why would he not murder another?” Sarabi admitted.

A silence followed. Nala and Sarabi had lived through the famine, but Simba must be given time to think about the crimes committed after he had fled. A low roar interrupted them. In the distance, Chumvi repeated the sound, and before Sarabi could offer advice Simba had returned the call. He leapt from the rock and moved toward Chumvi. Below them, the Pride had left their shelter to watch the proceedings.

Simba approached at a walk, allowing time for Chumvi to state his intentions. Once they were within several lengths of each other, Chumvi sat down heavily, before dramatically rolling over onto his back. Clearly not expecting such a clear submissive gesture, Simba paused. Nala’s whiskers twitched, but she resisted the urge to laugh. Chumvi had never been one for a fight.

Out in the grasslands, Chumvi had no such care. He laughed, whiskers moving as violently as Nala’s had, “com’on, Simba. Don’t tell me you don’t remember me?”

“You were only a cub last I saw you.” Simba pressed his head against Chumvi’s, and the younger male took it as an invitation to sit up.

“So were you! Ah, man, we missed you.”

“And I missed the Pride.” Simba admitted. “What are you doing here?”

Chumvi stepped back, separating himself from Simba, and lowered his head. “I’ve come to offer my services to King Simba. I’m gonna shield your back, keep your counsel, and give my life for yours if it’s needed. I swear it by the Great Kings.”

Simba stared at him so long that Chumvi opened one eye to peek up at him. Realizing the problem, Sarabi leapt from her position on the rock and trotted forward to her son’s side. She pressed her muzzle to his ear, and after a moment Simba spoke. “And I vow… that you shall always have a place in my Pride, and a share of my kills, and… I will ask no service of you that would bring you dishonor. I swear it by the Great Kings.”

Chumvi had snapped his eye closed the moment he noticed Sarabi’s approach, but now he straightened. “It‘s an honor. When Zira told me what happened I couldn’t believe it, but here ya’re, all grown up. Now that the formalities are out of the way, is there anything I can do to help?”

Sarabi took that as her queue. “Perhaps there is something you can do. Simba, do you know how to hunt?”

“I’ve never been the best, but I can hunt. Afra taught me in the jungle.”

Nala shook the water out of her pelt and trailed after Sarabi, while the lower ranked lionesses looked on from their position in the trees. “Who’s Afra?”

Simba’s ears flickered. “Afra is a leopard. She owned part of the jungle where I lived after Scar chased me out of the Pridelands. I was only a cub when I met her, and she had two cubs of her own, so she agreed to teach me how to hunt.”

“That’s surprising,” Sarabi said, “I’ve never met a leopard who didn’t want something.”

“In exchange, I helped protect her lands from other leopards.”

“So she wanted something from you,” Chumvi laughed, “Isn’t that how it always is? That’s why we don’t allow leopards in the Pridelands anymore.”

“My lack of hunting ability wasn’t her fault, it was Scar’s. Why should she teach me for nothing in return?” Simba protested.

“Even so, she was an adult and you were a cub. You needed to learn to hunt so you didn’t starve.” Sarabi said.

“And Afra needed to protect her cubs so they didn’t die. Besides, I had Timon and Pumbaa to take care of me.”

“A meerkat and a warthog aren’t suitable guardians for a cub.” Sarabi stated, ears flat against her head.

“Timon and Pumbaa saved my life.”

“They-”

“Are my friends-”

“Friends who stayed in the Pride’s den while we came to find food.”

“Because Naanda tried to eat them.”

“We haven’t had food in weeks!”

“There were hyena carcasses everywhere, but she would rather murder someone who helped us overthrow Scar.”

“Hyena tastes foul.”

“If not for them, the hyenas might have been eating her, because I’d be dead.”

“Who’re Timon and Pumbaa?” Sarabi and Simba’s heads snapped around at Chumvi’s question. Sarabi took a step back and smoothed her fur down, while Simba shook out his mane, ears flicking.

“Timon is a meerkat and Pumbaa is a warthog. They saved me from vultures in the desert and kept me alive long enough to learn how to hunt. They’re my friends.” Simba sounded somewhat desperate, but Chumvi shrugged that off.

“No problem. You’re the king, remember? Just pass a decree that no one can harm them.”

Simba blinked at him. “I can do that?”

“You’re the king,” Nala interjected, “and there’s precedence for it. It’s forbidden to harm a majordomo, and they are generally prey animals.”

“So I just… say that it’s forbidden?”

“Mufasa gathered all of the animals of the Pridelands together and gave the announcement there.” Sarabi explained.

“But there are no animals of the Pridelands right now,” Chumvi looked toward the border, where the scent of the oncoming herds drifted toward them.

“For now it is enough that the Pride knows.” Nala said. “Even most of the jackals and cheetahs are gone now.”

“You will have to tell them,” Sarabi said, “Once that is done, we can form a hunting party. Perhaps Chumvi could help show Simba how a Pride hunts together?”

“I thought kings were forbidden from hunting?” Simba asked. “Dad once told me that he didn’t hunt because he was expected to care for all the creatures in the Pridelands.”

“When prey is plentiful, that is true, but the Pride is starving any who are able must hunt. In the last drought, even Queen Uru took part in hunting parties.” Sarabi paused to look at Nala. “Will you take scouts along the border and see if any of the herds are within the Pridelands?”

“I’ll take Zingela and Asali,” Nala agreed.

“And if the herds are still on the other side of the gorge?” Chumvi asked.

“Then we must ask the lions of the Lowlands to hunt on their lands.” Sarabi replied. “Let us hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Nala followed as the older lioness began to make her way back to the Pride. Once the Pridelands and Lowlands had been allies, but as the drought went on the hyenas had crossed the borders to steal what little food they had. She could hardly blame them if they refused to allow yet more Pridelanders onto their lands.

The Pride began to move as they returned. Sarabi’s sisters came to meet her, and pressed along her side, purring loudly. When Nala sat beside Zingela, her aunt leaned into her shoulder. Her brief time in the jungle had provided far more prey than the Pride had seen in months, and, although Nala’s muscles had returned, she could feel Zingela’s bones through her skin, even after their hyena feast. The rest of the Pride looked no better.

“I have something to tell you,” Simba said, as the Pride closed around them, “I have decided that the meerkat and warthog that returned with me, the ones who helped us to defeat Scar, are under my protection. No one is to harm them.”

“Even if we are starving?” Dwala asked, from where she was pressed underneath Sarabi’s chin.

“Would you eat Zazu if you were starving?” Simba asked.

Dwala stared at him. “Zazu was King Mufasa’s majordomo. It is forbidden to eat him.”

“As it is forbidden to eat Timon and Pumbaa.” Simba declared.

When no one else spoke, Sarabi looked between her Pride-sisters. “Are there any more questions?”

The Pride was still, so Nala stood and nudged Zingela. “Asali, Zingela, come and scout the herds with me. Perhaps some have crossed the border.”

t was dangerous to hunt them so quickly, and so close to the Lowlands. The herds may decide it was too dangerous to cross again, but they had little choice. The Pride was starving and so Nala went. In the rain, it was difficult to tell just how close the Pride had stopped to the border. Just over the large ridge they found it, the reek of hyena combined with the markings of the Lowland’s guard. Scar had not patrolled in months upon months, but Nala found herself wondering if the faint scent of Mheetu’s patrols would still be there.

She shook the water out of her pelt and turned to her companions. Asali was staring mournfully across the border, but Zingela was scenting the air, searching for any sign of their prey. “It looks like the zebra might be within the border.”

Nala mimicked her gesture, drawing scent into her mouth and focusing on the zebra. “Asali, fetch the Pride. Zingela and I will sneak around to press them into the catchers.”

The grass was still short and dead, but Zingela was one of the Pride’s best stalkers and Nala was well fed. Together, they moved around the outside of the herd, careful to remain within their border, if only just. Once they were in position, they stilled and waited. The herd had not noticed them, too focused on the fresh grass next to the new water.

Normally, lionesses would take moments like these to talk, but Nala had been away for months while her aunt starved. She did not know what to say. It was Zingela who spoke first. “So, did you see any ghosts?”

For a moment, Nala did not reply. She had spent a great many nights pressed along the desert floor while sandstorms raged overhead, and, although it did not seem real now, each morning she would have sworn that she had heard voices in the winds. How many days had she spent following the tail-tip of a lion that she could never quite see? She would spend each evening convinced it was a mirage, only to trail a scent for miles the next morning. Eventually, she had come upon the oasis, and she had to wonder if it was a real lion that led her there or if a spirit had taken pity upon her. “I don’t think so. At least, I never saw them.”

Zingela’s pelt ruffled. “Perhaps it was a desert lion, then. There aren’t many of them this close to the mountains, but there are a few. I saw one, once. From the border.”

“What did it look like?”

“It was a male, but I only knew that by scent. He had no mane, his entire body was the same color. I only saw him for a moment. I think he was drawn in by our kill, but once he realized King Ahadi was there he turned and vanished among the sands.”

Nala looked over to her aunt. Her fur was a deeper tan than Nala’s, but her aunt had the same green eyes and sleek shape as her mother had. Although Nala was a better hunter, Zingela was the best tracker in the Pride. She had never had cubs of her own, but unlike Dwala she had entertained several partners, however briefly. “Zingela? Thank you.”

Zingela scoffed. “For what?”

“For saving me.”

“Saving you? Nala, you found King Mufasa’s dead son. You have saved us all.”

“If not for you, I’d never have been able to leave the Pridelands.”

The elder lioness’ ears were twitching violently. “You are my sister’s cub. I did only what Sarafina would have done.”

“Thank you, nonetheless.”

“Stupid cub. There, look.” Nala followed her gaze, ears lifting even as the rest of her remained completely still. Sarabi was just visible through the herd, and when their eyes met the old queen vanished into the trees.

Without a word, she and Zingela split up, moving closer to the herd as they cut off avenues of escape. It was Nala’s place to move first, as she held the higher rank, but she waited until she was sure everyone was in position. This was no time to lose her nerve, just as the first herd responded to the rain and crossed into the Pridelands. When they did break, Nala and Zingela together, the herd did just as they’d hoped and bolted toward the trees. In the commotion, Nala did not truly expect to make her own kill, but she still gave it all her strength. Her target was just beginning to outdistance her when the trees exploded and Chumvi had the creature by the neck.

An instant later, Simba was upon it as well, and together they knocked the zebra off its feet. Nala clamped her jaws over it’s nose, and, slowly, it’s struggles died. Once the zebra stopped moving and the dust settled, Nala sat up to find her Pride-sisters. There was always the chance that someone would be hurt during a hunt, and sometimes they would get lucky and catch more than one zebra.

That was not the case this time. Dwala and Sarabi hovered near a panting Naanda, waiting for their sister to collect herself, and Asali and Zingela were slowly walking back to the kill. As the rest of the Pride approached, Simba moved back, offering his place to the lionesses. “Here, mother, eat.”

Sarabi shook her head. “No. Those who made the kill eat first.”

“Technically, it’s cubs first. Then the king, then those who made the kill and the hunters, and last those who did not hunt,” Chumvi noted, mouth already bloody from tearing into their kill.

“We don’t have any cubs,” Simba pointed out, “and why should the king eat before those who hunt?”

“The king keeps the peace between all the animals,” Sarabi explained. “If not for the king, the herds may be over hunted or decide to leave the Pridelands. Because the king forgoes hunting to care for the Pridelands, the hunters feed him first.”

“That’s in times of hunger.” Naanda said, from her sister’s side. “When there is plenty, few would argue over who eats first.”

“And we do have cubs,” Chumvi’s voice was muffled by food, but he was clear enough.

Simba eyed him curiously, “we do?”

“Yeah, my three cubs, and the queen's one”

“One?” Nala demanded. “What happened?”

Chumvi swallowed hard to clear his mouth, and met her eyes. “The hyenas did. They killed Akono, and wounded Zuberi.”

Nala let go of the kill and sat up. Out of all the Pride, only Chumvi had seen Zira since the night Scar died, and Zira had the cubs. Nala had not known her siblings well, as Scar had kept them isolated after their mother’s death, but she still remember her mother’s happiness at their birth. None of the Pride moved to eat, and even Chumvi had the grace to pause in his meal. “I’m sorry, Nala.”

“Where- where is his body? He was Scar’s oldest cub, he deserves to be lain with his mother.”

“Zira wasn’t able to recover it. I thought maybe you-?”

“We collected every hyena left near Pride Rock, and ate what we could for strength.” Sarabi answered sharply. “There were no cubs. Zira was their watcher that night. She is responsible for them until we return.”

Simba pressed his muzzle against Nala, “I’m sorry about your brother.”

“It isn’t your fault,” she replied, pressing herself into his mane. “You didn’t bring the hyenas here or force them to attack defenseless cubs.”

Simba didn’t seem to know what to say to that. After a moment, he turned to the other male. “Here, Chumvi, take part of the zebra for the cubs. Are they old enough to eat meat?”

“Some of them are. My younger two are only two years old. The queen’s might try a bit, but if Zira stays well fed then she’ll keep producing milk for them.”

“Take what you can carry to her, then,” Simba ordered. “And the rest of you, come and eat with me.”

“Are you certain?” Sarabi asked.

Simba smiled at her. “I am the king, if I want to share my food I can.”

#lion king #simba #nala #chumvi #lionkingstories #sarabi

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