why is reading men's comments on the internet always so exhausting. do u not think what you're saying

Between Stars Part 2 {Arvin Russell x reader}

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

The next day, you woke up bright and early to make your strawberry pie for the new reverend. The entire time you were baking, your mind was on Arvin. Something about him stuck to you and you were excited at the thought of seeing him today at church. Finally, your pie was out of the oven and looked delicious. Before your mom passed away, she taught you how to bake and cook, saying “Every woman should know how to bake, not for men but for themselves. A good roast can fix any problem.” 

“Honey, go change, we have to go soon.” Your father said, bringing you out of your daydreaming of Arvin. 

You quickly ran upstairs and examined your closet with the boy in mind. You chose a blue floral skirt that reminded you of his cap, and paired it with a white blouse that showed off your cinched waist and a little bit of cleavage. 

As you ran down the stairs, your father looked at you with a suspicious look “Who are you dressin’ up for y/n? Cause it sure ain’t the lord.”

“Oh shush daddy, this is what I always wear to church.”

“Whatever you say.” He smirked. “Now let’s hit the road before we’re late.”

The two of us piled into the blue truck, pie in my hand and headed to the town church. 

Once we parked, I set my eyes on Arvin. “Dad, let’s go say hi to the Russells.”

“I’m afraid Mrs. Russell’s gonna tell me to cut my hair.” He said, suddenly looking very scared and fixing his appearance to a point. 

“Don’t worry about it, now let’s go.” I said, stepping out of the truck with the pie and making my way over. “Hello Mrs. Russell.” I said smiling, trying not to stare at Arvin for too long. 

“Hello y/n, where is your father?”

“Don’t tell him I told you this, but he’s scared you’re gonna criticize his appearance.”

“Let me see him, I won’t be too harsh.” She said, spotting your father and making her way towards him, leaving you, Arvin and another girl alone. 

“Hello, I don’t believe I’ve met you.” The girl said. You were worried she was Arvin’s girlfriend or something, but nonetheless was as pleasant as always, if not more. 

“I’m y/n, I just moved into town.”

“I’m Lenora, Arvin’s sister.” She said, making your heart settle. “That pie looks awfully good, did you make it yourself?”

“Yea, I did, my mom taught me when I was little.”

“I wish I knew how to bake, the most I can do is a cake, and they aren’t even that good.”

“Don’t say that I’m sure they're great.” You said smiling, completely forgetting about the boy next to you. 

He most certainly did not forget about you. Zoned out in the way your eyes lit up, how your hair was pinned perfectly, but there were two stray strands framing your face, how your shirt granted him the perfect view of-no he shouldn’t be thinking about this. Arvin quickly snapped out of his trance to see Lenora and you staring at him. 

“I said you look a little red there Arvin, you okay?”

“Y-Yea, I’m just hot out here, that’s all.” He said avoiding eye contact with you in case you saw he was watching you.

Mrs. Russell came by with your dad and said “Alright, let’s head in now that Henry looks half decent.” Your father grumbled and kept his head down, following you into the church. 

There was a line of people presenting their home goods to the new preacher. The Russells went ahead of you while you were not-so secretly staring at Arvin. Once he turned back, you quickly turned your head as slyly as you could. When you looked back at him, his eyes were still on you and your cheeks were starting to heat up under his gaze. The sound of the preacher speaking brought both of you out of the gaze to turn to two fingers stuck into Mrs. Russell’s chicken liver. He lifted his fingers and put them into his mouth, sucking on them. You cringed at the sight and had to turn away once he caught your eye and stared right at you. Feeling incredibly uncomfortable, you fidgeted and looked to Arvin who was close to glaring at the preacher. Arvin followed his gaze to see that he was staring at, and once he saw you staring at him looking uneasy, he was about ready to start a fight. 

Neither of you heard what Preacher Teagardin said next, only watching the other, waiting for who knows what. Mrs. Russell and Lenora stepped away, out of the line, making Arvin follow them while still looking back between you and Teagardin. 

You stepped up with your father and stretched your hands out, holding out your pie towards the man. “Now, what do we have here?” He asked slowly.

“Strawberry pie, sir.” You answered, unsure if he was talking about you or the pie.

“It looks absolutely delicious.” he answered, still keeping his eyes fixed on you, making you very uncomfortable.   

“My y/n can bake like no other.” Your father boasted, clearly unaware of your discomfort. Someone who did notice, was Arvin. He was standing on the opposite side of the room, watching your interaction with the creepy reverend. Before he could think about what he was doing, Arvin was making his way towards you while Teagardin was holding your shoulder rubbing it in circles. 

“Sorry to interrupt.” Arvin said as he neared you and the preacher. “But can I steal y/n away for a second?” 

“I’m not surprised you have a boyfriend y/n, a pretty little girl like you must have all the boys chasin’ for your hand.” Teagardin said, smiling at Arvin.

“I didn’t know you were datin’ anyone.” Your dad said sternly “I guess that’s why you wanted to dress up so pretty.”

“I-well…” You were unsure what to say, not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

“Yea, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sir, I wanted to keep it a secret so nobody would pick on y/n.” Arvin said, grabbing your hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “Well, my grandma really wanted to talk to y/n about something, she said it was important.” 

You didn’t need anymore convincing to quickly place your pie in the reverend’s hands and walk off with your “boyfriend”

“Thank you for that.” You said quietly into Arvin’s ear, waiting to explain until you were alone. Leading you outside the church’s doors, your hand was still in Arvin’s.

“How did you know I needed help?” You asked, amazed that Arvin came when he did.

Arvin didn’t want to admit that he had been watching you and so he just said “I noticed something was off with the man and didn’t want you to be left alone with him.” Which wasn’t a lie at all, but still, not the whole truth.

Suddenly feeling very sick, you thought about how the man had a wife and how he was much older than you. Next you thought about yourself. You thought about how you unbuttoned your blouse an extra button, hoping for the attention of Arvin. This was your fault, and you felt disgusted with yourself. 

Noticing that you looked less than happy, Arvin, still cradling your hand, pulled you up to a standing position and smiled. “Seeing as I’m your boyfriend now, it’s my job to make you happy again.”

“And how do you think you’re gonna do that?” You asked with a smile.

“By walking back in there, head held high, eating some of your delicious strawberry pie and then, going for a drive with me up to the creek.” He said

“Arvin Russell, are you askin’ me on a date?” 

“Seeing as I’m your boyfriend, I figured we should go on one sooner than later. 

“Sounds good to me.” You smiled, and made your way back into the church, hand in hand with Arvin. 

Bulletproof Heart Pt.2

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Prompt: Request from Anon- “ could you write one where the reader is a rock singer and they and mcr are on warped tour together, and they both lowkey like each other but think they’re both out of each other’s league, and find out that they’re both secretly into nerdy stuff + maybe getting together?

TW: Mentions of an abusive relationship.

AN: The plot thickens. Sorry for the delay in uploading <3

Enjoyyyy <3

That night after everyone had stumbled back to the bus in a tipsy stupor, you couldn't shake the thought of your encounter with Gerard from your brain. And what's more, you hated yourself for it. For awhile you tossed and turned, hoping the unwelcome feelings you had would fade to nothing so that you could fall asleep at last.

But your curiosity got the better of you, and there was only would person who could give you the answers you were looking for.

"Hey Gavin, are you still conscious?" you whispered from your bunk. You heard the rustle of sheets moving in response.

"Hmmm?" a low and sleepy sound of acknowledgement answered.

"I'm just wondering...what do you know about Gerard Way?"

As soon as the words left your lips, Gavin's curtains swung open with superhuman force.

"Y/N are you in love with Gerard Way?!" Gavin's voice was no longer tired, having morphed into a sharp and excited whisper. In addition to being the band's social butterfly, he always knew the gossip about everyone within a 20 mile radius.

"Christ, really Gavin? We only spoke for like fifteen minutes."

"So it was like a love at first sight situation?"

"You are so annoying, I swear to god."

"Do you want info or not?" he threatened.

You sighed. "Fine, yes I do."

Gavin cleared his throat as if preparing for a presentation. "OK, so everyone has something good to say about him, seems like a really genuine guy. I've heard he was in a long term relationship for ages, but its been broken off for awhile now. "

"Hmm," you murmured, trying to sound indifferent, "yeah he seems like a sweet guy."

"Yeah and every girl with a pulse seems to be after him. You got some competition out there." he teased. "But seriously, if you're interested you should go for it. You deserve to be happy, Y/N. It's been three years since...you know who."

Gavin didn't say his name, but he had said enough to bring on a wave of sad memories. "Thanks. I'm uh, feeling pretty tired, so... I'm just gonna get some sleep."

"G'night." Gavin said softly, as if aware he had brought out long buried and very unwelcome feelings.

You rolled over in your bunk, pulling your blankets up over your head, unwilling to dwell on the memories that had been drudged up by only a few words. Three years ago. That's when you finally had the strength to break it off with Alex.

You were a different person when you met him. It was your first relationship, and you were naive and forgiving, unable to see the dozens of red flags that should have made you run away from it all.

You had answered an ad that he had posted asking for potential band members for a punk band he was forming. It had been your dream to pursue music, and you responded right away, hoping you'd hit it off. You weren't expecting Alex to be so damn attractive, and when your audition was successful, it was only a matter of time before a relationship began to develop between you.

He was older than you, more experienced, and eager to take you under his wing where he could have the most control. You mistook his over-protectiveness as a sign of love, and he slowly cut you off from people outside of the band, leaving you isolated and dependent on him.

Eventually he would get angry if he saw you speak to any other man. He took your phone regularly so that he could look through it, questioning you about anything he didn't like. The fights you had were loud and ugly, your voices rising and crashing like cantankerous bursts of thunder. Eventually, they became violent.

You were stuck in a cycle of affection and fear, held there as if caught in a tide that would never bring you back to shores of sanity. But you did eventually find the strength to get out when your friend reached out to you, offering you a place to stay. You packed your bags that night and didn't look back.

Your band was not just a career for you, it was a symbol of healing, proof that you were able to overcome it all and strike out on your own. You rolled over in your bunk, and pushed the unwanted memories aside, reminding yourself of the promise you had made to be the best damn band on Warped tour. Nothing was going to change that now.

x x x 

Your first performance went by in a haze of adrenaline and sweat. The crowd was young and eager to see what you had to offer, and you were all to happy to give them something they'd remember for a long long time.

There were several people in the crowd who were fans already, proudly wearing your band's shirts and mouthing along to all of the lyrics. Others were slowly converted, headbanging enthusiastically by the end of your set. When the band's final song was met with deafening hoots and cheers, you'd felt like you'd accomplished your mission.

"We fucking killed it!" Gavin declared as he slumped in the nearest chair, exhausted.

"The crowd was good, huh?" you beamed as you wiped the sweat from your face, still breathless from your onstage antics. "Let's hope they're all like this."

"Can't get any worse than our first show ever, remember?" Liz laughed as she recalled the groups early days. "Never had so much beer pelted at me in my life."

People milled about as you and your band mates caught your breath. A few musicians from other bands popped in to say hi and let you know that they enjoyed your performance.

"Hey you actually made it!" Gavin jumped up from his chair as he noticed a new face entering the backstage area. "Guys did you meet Frank last night? From My Chemical Romance?" A man with wide hazel eyes gave a quick wave from the the entryway.

"This guy was goin on and on about how you guys were the best new band on warped tour. Had to see if he was just full of shit."

"He always starts bragging when he's drunk." you rolled your eyes.

"Well, I'm glad he did. You guys put on a pretty kick-ass show. Plus Gerard really wanted to check it out."

Your heartbeat, which had only just settled from jumping around on stage, began to speed up again.

"Gerard?"you asked softly, caught off guard by the mention of his name.  You didn't see the familiar black haired boy near frank. You only saw Gavin attempting to give you a discreet wink, which you returned with a harsh glare.

"Yeah actually we were all there. Mikey and Ray had to run to another show. Don't know where Gee disappeared to though," Frank craned his head, looking around at the hustle and bustle that was happening permanently everywhere on Warped tour. "Ah, there he is. Gerard!"

You saw Gerard, surrounded by a small circle of fans, each holding something they wanted him to sign. You felt a strange pang when you noticed they were all pretty girls, and Gavin's words from last night came back to haunt you. You got some competition out there. You struggled to identify just what emotion was suddenly eating away at you--were you really jealous? Or was it the realization that even if you decided to make a move, it was probably hopeless?

Gerard nodded at Frank. "Be there in a sec!" he shouted, continuing to sign autographs until he had gotten through everyone.

Frank spoke with your band mates, but you were too distracted by the knowledge that Gerard had watched you perform to be sociable. You were anxious as to what his opinion would be, but tried to push it out of your thoughts.

You watched nervously as Gerard spoke to Frank and Gavin, noticing that he would glance over at you every so often. When your eyes finally met he gave you a nod and a warm smile. You gave yourself an internal pep talk to try and stay calm. You can just be friends, you don't need to do anything except be friendly. For the love of god, act normal.

Eventually he made his way over to you,offering another soft and lopsided smile,but his time it almost seemed as if he was shy. "Great show. From one lead singer to another, your band has a fucking killer sound."

You thanked him, grinning like an idiot while cautionary alarm bells went off in your head.

"I might be a bit biased though, because of the shirt your wearing."

You looked down, having forgotten what you threw on that morning. It was one of your favorite shirts,  a short sleeved tee with the X-Men symbol emblazoned on the front. You'd had it for years, as evidenced by the smattering of small holes peeking through the bottom edge. Oh no, you thought, he likes comics too?

"You're a fan?" you asked coolly, a stark contrast to the giddy panic that was building up inside you.

"Yes! I actually wanted to make comics before My Chem was a thing." He spoke animatedly, his round hazel eyes widening even further. "But life had other plans. Not that I'm complaining."

That familiar heat rose in your cheeks. This conversation was dangerous, and you were trying desperately to fight the feeling that this man was something close to perfect.

The world around the two of you became an insignificant blur as you both discussed comics at length, and you hung on every word, taking turns revealing how you first discovered them and sharing your favorites. He even recommended a few titles that you had never heard of. His demeanor was passionate and lively, entirely different from the sullen boy you met the night before.

"I uh, I'm actually working on a comic at the moment," he began, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, suddenly bashful, "If you're interested you should stop by the bus sometime--"

Gerard's eyes focused on something just behind you, and you felt a sudden tap on your shoulder. You turned and felt your stomach drop to a sickening low. There, standing next to the drunk who was hitting on you last night, was your ex-boyfriend Alex.

"What are the odds!" he smiled at you, blank looking smug beside him. You found yourself at a loss for words.

"What...what are you doing here?"

He scoffed. "Ouch Y/N, is that anyway to say hello? I'm here for the same reason you are." He turned his attention to Gerard. "I'm Alex. Y/N and I used to have a band together back in the day. Well, a bit more than that actually." He smirked at you, instantly transforming any butterflies you had felt while talking to Gerard into pure revulsion.

This was your worst case scenario, and it was one you had never even considered to be possible. Seeing his face again made you freeze up, and you were at a loss for words. You looked up at Gerard through your eyelashes, wondering if the dark and overwhelming swirl of emotion inside you was showing on your face. His brows were furrowed ever so slightly as if he could sense that something wasn't quite right.

"Nice to meet you," he replied curtly before turning his attention back to you. I'll uh, let you catch up. I'll just be over there with Frank...if you need anything."

You merely nodded, too caught up in your feelings to respond properly. "I'll catch you later then."

Alex saw this opportunity as a chance to reach for an embrace, but you stepped back and out of reach.

"Just what the hell are you doing?"

"What are you implying? I'm just dropping in to say hello before Midnite Heist performs later. I'm their new drummer after all. I can't even do that?"

"No," you said, struggling to maintain a low voice, "You can't. I told you I never wanted to see you again. We may be on the same tour, but that doesn't mean you can approach me. Don't try it again."

He laughed, clearly embarrassed to be spoken too like that in front of his band mate. "If you're trying to get with that Way guy, don't bother. You're punching way above your weight with that one."

You took a moment to steel yourself, and decided to walk away rather than let thing turn into a scene. Before you turned to leave, you offered one final warning.

"I haven't forgotten what you did to me. Speak to me again and you'll regret it."

You walked off, hearing mocking 'Ooooh's from Alex and Brent as you left. You saw heads turning in your direction as you stormed away towards the bus, including Gerard's, but you couldn't be bothered by that now- not when you were struggling to keep it together.

Fuck Fuck Fuck your internal monologue looped on a bitter repeat. This was going to be the longest tour of your life.

Could you do something for vampire papas + Copia with an s/o?

*rubs hands together* YOU BET I COULD! 

Also I might just through in a mild warning for predatory behavior and mentions of blood since these are vampires, and still have instincts to hunt and drink! The relationships will not be like normal ones, so it will have some power imbalances and the like! 

Papa Nihil:

~You’re one of two human lovers he has had in his very long undeath that has not been supernaturally altered in some way. The rest of his harem and close followers have all been partially turned or became thralls to his wills (all willing of course.) But you are different. Nihil likes you the way you are and never wants to risk changing you beyond recognition. He’s a very old vampire and one with unspeakable power- so his mere essence could warp you it’s so strong! Nihil prefers you to be yourself and with your right state of mind in check! 

~Keeps you away from his sons, as they are turned as well. He doesn’t trust them to not treat you like food or as another expendable servant. Nihil makes it very known that you are NOt just a mere ghoul or worshiper. You may be human, but you still have an important place in his shriveled, black mess he calls a heart. Nihil likes to remind everyone that you are not a mere plaything, and any harm that comes to you will result in swift and harsh punishment. 

~Nihil likes to pull a Gary Oldman, and his form can sometimes change. He’s old and powerful enough to not be hurt by sunlight or water (so long as it’s not blessed.) often times, when he’s feeling cheeky, he will shift from his decrepit form to that of his prime when he was a young man! It startles you every time when you see the tall, younger man with pitch black hair grinning at your door! Nihil especially likes shifting to look younger because not many, even in his close circle, recognize him and he can spend his day with you without being bothered too much. 

~Despite looking like he could die any moment, Nihil is a powerful being and has mastered many vampire arts. But it’s not something he’s particularly fond of lording over you. To him, your time together is the time he DOESN’T want to think about his long millennia of being a walking corpse. Your time together makes him feel human and nostalgic for the past when his emotions were stronger. Nihil doesn’t usually have deep feelings for others like he does for you, so he wants YOU to feel loved and appreciated when you are together. He knows you ALREADY know he’s a vampire, let you two forget for just a while.

~Never wants to turn you, because despite the perks, living forever actually really sucks. He’s lived for over a thousand years, and it still has not brought him closer to true happiness. Nihil would not force you to spend undeath with him just to be bored or sad that you cannot die. You two have no doubt had heated, emotional talks about it but he just can’t do that to you. “I might be a monster, mio caro, but I am not a monster enough to curse you like this.” 

~Doesn’t need your blood and doesn’t really want it. Nihil likes to think of you more than just food, and he has tons of servants and worshipers to feed from. Why bother yourself? He’s sure you taste very good, especially to him, but you are more to him than an expendable follower. Keep your blood, he won’t need it! But he will share a nice bottle of wine with you! He’s the type of old vampire that can stomach human food again! He much rather have a huge meal than worry about over feeding on you. 

Papa I:

~It’s amazing how indescribably powerful this vampire is, but is so gentle and almost tender with you. Papa has a list of things he has thanks to his vampiric nature- strength, speed, shape-shifting, etc. But with you he just comes off as any other satanic old man... except with a scary gaze to his mismatched eyes and big sense of foreboding that follows him. 

~Refuses to drink from you at all, even when you insist it’s fine. Papa always looks so appalled at the offer and looks you dead in the eye.“You are not a sacrificial lamb to my alter. I will not treat you like common prey.” Papa only ever drinks his blood from willing acolytes who serve him in a goblet. But even if you offered to fill his goblet he wouldn’t drink it. He sees you as too valuable and beloved to ever consider it. 

~Papa has debated on turning you into another vampire. On one hand he adores you and does want to spend eternity with you. On the other, he knows that vampiric nature can also be a curse that twists even the most noble of men into monsters and cold creatures. Could he ever be selfish enough to inflict it upon you just from his own needs? Unless Satan himself wills it, he’s in turmoil over the idea. 

~Papa is still the endless well of knowledge. He has spent centuries collecting and writing various pieces, so he knows a lot. Because you are so dear to him he is even willing to teach you all about vampires- even if it means you could kill him. Granted, he’s so strong there is very little you could probably do to hurt him... but he trusts you. 

~He actually really likes when you ask about his life as a vampire- that you show so much interest in everything that he has seen and experienced. Papa has been in undeath so long he forgets your life is so short. Papa will sit with you for hours and tell you everything you want to know! 

~The only thing that worries him about you, aside from your short life, is people on the outside being threatened by your relationship. He knows his followers would never harm you, he knows he is strong enough to protect you from anything- but he’s always been weary of the outside world. It takes one angry village or pompous vampire hunter to take you away from him. Despite all this, Papa always gives you the option to walk away and seek a normal life. To forget him and never look back. But you never abandon him, and he’s always eternally grateful you love him regardless. 

Papa II:

~This fucker is the vampire that comes through your window at night. Papa likes to be the dark and mysterious predatory vampire, even if you two are an established fling. No matter how long it has been, he’s always willing to be a silhouette in your window that stalks in menacingly. You always know it’s him when you feel a cold hand caress your neck and, at this point, you just welcome him into your bed. He’s also startled you many times by prowling around your shared quarters in the dead of night. He always chuckles as he never means it! 

~Vampire Papa has a way bigger ego than his normal counter part. This is because he is incredibly powerful and has lived a VERY long time. This can cause a bit of imbalance between you too, as you always get the feeling he never takes you seriously. But, what threat could you possibly be as a human? Sometimes you get frustrated with his vain attitude. Papa tries to make up for it by being respectful and polite to you- like an equal. He’s just not entirely worried you could ever bring him physical harm. 

~Papa respects you enough to not make you a mindless ‘bride of dracula’ minion. Granted, he DOES have a harem of lesser vampirie lovers, but they don’t hold a candle to you. Papa stills respects you and your feelings. If you can all help it, you just avoid his harem. Instead, your relationship is stronger intellectually and (for as much as he can) emotionally. He’s still withdrawn emotionally, but Papa has lived long enough where he knows how to support you. His emotions died a long time ago but you are the only sunshine he has had in his dark life for a while- he’s not about to lose you to apathy.

~Out of all the vampires, Papa was the hardest to get into a relationship with. For one, he had a harem and all the company he could want so he wasn’t actively seeking any type of mate like figure. Second, he knows how short lived you are. Papa tried to keep you at arms length as best as he could emotionally when he started to grow fond of you. He’s very aware of how much of a walking corpse he truly is, and you just remind him of it- of how he can;t give a whole, feeling human heart to you. But the more you stayed around, unaware of your effect on the vampire, the more he was unwilling to let you go- even if your time together becomes short. 

~Papa LOVES to drink from you if you give him permission. Among his servants, it’s the highest honor. But for you, it’s just a display of how much you love and trust him. He’s a powerful undead monster who could drink you dry if he so wished. For you two, this has become a weird bonding ritual that might not be defined by normal relationship standards. You give him life out of your own will and in turn he does everything to protect yours. Papa is always sure never to get too greedy and makes sure you are well taken care of by his servants after.  You have a huge luxury bed and are always tucked in and given honey and water to keep you healthy. Papa might be a monster in nature, but he will never act like one towards you! 

~if you really have bonded to the point where Papa can’t spend eternity without you, he will be the first to change you. But be warned, you might be his beloved, but he is a harsh master. Papa will train you to be powerful and independent in order for you to survive. It’s not out of cruelty, but he needs you to be able to hold your own. There are a LOT of things that can kill vampires, even the most powerful ones. Papa has taken you on as his eternal mate and will NOt lose you to a hunter or even day light. By the time he’s done with you, you are going to be one force to be reckoned with! 

Papa III:

~ This man is everything romantic you think of a stereotypical vampire- charming, suave, seductive, dark, and mysterious. Papa can be incredibly dangerous but he’s so charming and has a way of putting you at ease. Normally this would be used to get blood or minions, but for you it’s different. He’s not trying to seduce you just to use you for a meal. For him, it’s very nice to just be his wildly charismatic self without the fear of slipping and scaring you off. You already know he’s a vampire, so he knows he doesn’t have to be careful! 

~Sometimes you have to keep yourself from laughing because he unintentionally acts like a Bela Lugosi Dracula with some of his lines. He’s really just trying to keep the charm going but it can get cliche. Papa won’t be sorry for it, some lines are just classic! 

~There is something super sensual and intimate if you let him drink from you. Papa does it so gently and almost tenderly, because he sees you more than just the typical blood bag. You are his beloved and he is honored to be able to taste you. Papa always holds you close in a lover’s embrace before he sips on you deep and slowly- lips pressed against your neck. He is always mindful not to take too much and to savor every drop. Every time he pulls away his eyes are always closed in bliss- like he just sampled the finest of wines.   

~Papa loves to show off his powers to you, specifically his ones of minor flight and shape shifting. When you are as old and strong as he is, you can actually have wings! If you are down for it, he’ll fly with you in his arms! Papa also loves his animal forms, and you can always tell it’s him! Like when a bat seems too cute and friendly, or a black cat follows you too close. He always shifts back with a laugh and purrs in your ear. “How did you know it was me?” There have also been countless times you’ve caught him walking on the ceiling for fun. He always just shrugs and insists its a good party trick! 

~When Papa finds someone worth his time he considers making you another vampire. He will never tell you for years he’s considered. But the thing is, making another vampire isn’t very smart to do every time you fancy someone. Having to be sire to a fledgling is very tedious and takes a lot of patience. But... Papa wonders what it would be like to have you around forever. You don’t know it, but everyday Papa watches to see if you are worthy of the dark kiss of undeath. 

~ Papa, like his brothers and father, also has a luxury castle and rooms that he shares with you. Despite it being less active during the day and HEAVILY curtained from the sun, you live like a monarch! One thing Papa HAS shared with you is his crypt, the one he was resurrected from. Despite popular belief, no he does not sleep in the casket we was originally in. But, this is incredibly important for him to show you. See, he was brought back after a true death and not just changed- and a vampire can been slain with the soil of their resting place. It means a lot for him to trust you with this information. 

Cardinal Copia:

~Copia was very reluctant to have a relationship with you, let alone have you find out he was a vampire! Normally he doesn’t mind taking humans under his control as willing thralls to serve and feed him. But he’s been undead for so long he wasn’t sure to approach catching feelings for someone again. It was very tempting to have you removed from his life altogether. You were human and destined to die a natural, short life. And he wasn’t sure he was ready to sire another undead. But you won out in the end, and he can’t stay away from you. 

~ He’s very VERY protective of you, especially if any other vampires enters his territory. He doesn’t trust his own kind, least of all with you. Copia is very adamant about you staying out of any of his affairs with colleagues for this reason. It’s for your safety and the last thing he needs is having you threatened for leverage or a business partner trying to eat you. Not to mention, humans themselves can’t be trusted! Copia is always paranoid a vampire hunter or the other church will persuade you into thinking he’s nothing but pure evil. 

~Copia cannot resist your blood offerings even if he wanted to! To him, you are the sweetest and most satisfying meal. He often worries one day he’ll lose his control and hurt you, but never has. Copia always asks your permission, never using his charm or powers on you, before gently sinking his fangs in. Copia will have you with him the rest of the night to make sure you are recovering fine and that you rest well. Typically he gets very cuddly after feeding and is satisfied, and wants you in his arms so he can keep an eye on you. 

~Copia is an odd vampire in which he rarely likes to show off his abilities to you. He will gladly flaunt his powers over rivals or other vampires, but he’s so loathe to do so around his beloved. A part of him wants you to love him for who he still as as a ‘person’ rather than the power he has as a creature of the night. If he wanted blind followers or bed buddies he’d just have a harem like SOME PEOPLE *coughcoughpapaIIcough*. There is a time and place for mindless followers, and being in a relationship that makes him feel GOOD and ALIVE is not the time. 

~Copia does stupid things as a vampire that makes you laugh. You’ve seen him hiss and pull his arms back to his body so many times! You know he’s this monster, but he just looks like a giant dork when he recoils like a cartoon character! You’ve all but lost your shit the time he’s held his Dracula cape up as a protecting from harsh sunlight. 

~Speaking of his cape, it’s his favorite piece to wear when he’s done pretending to be a normal human! Copia will usually wear it when he takes you out at night and when a special occasion arises. He’s informed you that it’s a sign of rank and respect amongst the other undead. You doubt it but hey, he looks great in it! 

O2 - the bloody build-up

genre: mafia!au, angst, fluff, slow burn, mystery-thriller

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: charismatic. beautiful. fearless without question. the ambitious team of seven young men in charge of spiral, downtown district’s hottest new club, go above and beyond to provide 100% satisfaction to their clients.

after an eventful night out, you have no choice but to join the team for property damages greater than your intern salary. challenging a series of events that can no longer be left to coincidence, secrets threaten to burst at the seams as your professional and private life collide, and another - more sinister - debt is added to your total. 

how far are you willing to go to pay back your pound of flesh? remember, nothing is ever as it seems...

word count: 4.6k

warnings: cursing, some mentions of blood, mentions of guns (someone does get shot, but nothing super crazy), some violence, mentions of alcohol consumption 

a/n: thank you guys so much for the love on the first part! i really appreciate it. i hope y’all aren’t confused about their nicknames and stuff, like which member is which, but let me know and i’ll clarify 😭 this part might be a little far-fetched towards the end, but stay with me lol. i’m still working on my masterlist, but please check out my updates page which includes my works-in-progress. i’m actually pretty excited about what’s coming up next. as always, feedback is always appreciated and encouraged. thank you again to @alversia​ for reading this and supporting my writing. pls enjoy! 

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“You expect me to head to Spiral tonight? Dressed like this?” You look down at your white button-up and black pencil skirt. Laura was out of her damn mind.

“Oh come on! It’ll be fun. Just some coworkers getting together after a hard week’s work. You haven’t been out with us in forever!” she exclaims, standing up from her desk.

“You know Amani doesn’t like us like that, Laura.” Paul does have a point. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them as people - well, that would be a lie. You didn’t. It’s just, who would want to spend their Friday night drinking with their coworkers when you could be at home, curled up with your cat, and tucking into whatever delicious dinner your roommate had prepared?

“I never said that I didn’t like you guys -”

“Out loud,” Paul says, interrupting you.

“- I just wasn’t planning on going out tonight. I’m not even dressed for the occasion,” you continue.

“It doesn’t matter. It’ll be dark anyway,” Laura tries again. “You said you had a good time the last time you went,” she reminds you.

You remember your brief run-in with Suga and the sleazy man at the bar. It’s been three weeks since then and the bruises on your arm have faded. Aside from that minor incident, you did have fun. The music was good, the bartender was attractive, and the drinks weren’t too pricey. In fact, Suga did say that the next time you came, drinks were on the house.

“Plus, you missed James’ birthday celebration 2 weeks ago.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Alright, alright. Fine, I’ll come,” You tell them.

“Great! Let’s go!” Laura squeals and grabs your coats.

It was going to be a long night.

The small group of you huddle together in front of the door to Spiral like penguins in the dead of winter. The wind is harsh but expected on a cold December night. You pull up the collar of your wool coat to shield your face as you wait in line and wish you had remembered to bring your scarf. Spiral was fairly new and you assume that more and more people were coming to experience the place with its modern goth vibe. Your feet hurt from the 4-inch heels that your manager, Mrs. Kim, insisted on young women wearing to “keep the spirit of professionalism going”. Honestly, you just thought she wanted to see you suffer the way she did all those eons ago. A rite of passage, if you will. After fifteen minutes, you’re finally at the door where the bouncer and two other men stand talking.

“Is everyone here ridiculously attractive?” Laura whispers to you. You glance up to look at her.

“Who are you talking about?” She points at the three men by the door.

“Ah,” you say, acknowledging them. It was on second glance that you realize Min is one of the men in the group. You groan as you remember your brief conversation the last time you were here.

“You okay there?” Paul turns to ask you over his shoulder. You nod. “Just making sure you weren’t thinking about bailing on us,” he says with a grin. You roll your eyes and punch his shoulder as you wait to get your IDs checked. It seemed as though security had increased.

“Well if it isn’t my little snack?” You groan again as Min grins at you. His silver hair stands out among his dark-haired companions, though he’s shorter than the other two.

“Your who?” the man next to him asks, confused.

“My snack,” Min emphasizes. “Suga wouldn’t let me have her though,” he says with a pout as he turns to you again.

“I wouldn’t let you have me,” you mumble and shift closer to Laura who’s watching the scene unfold with wide eyes.

“What was that?” Min asks, his grin growing again as he steps closer to you.

“Min, leave her alone,” the bouncer says as he waves through the first half of your coworkers after checking their IDs.

“You guys really never let me have any fun.” Min’s laugh rings through the air as he steps back next to his friends.

“Do you know him?” Laura asks you. You shake your head. She doesn’t need to know that story.

“I’ve only seen him once and very briefly at that. Come on,” you say nodding towards the entrance after taking back your ID.

You brush past her and the three men and head down the stairs ignoring the eyes that follow you. The heat from the club hits you like a brick wall and you immediately pull off your coat. You follow Paul’s tall figure through the mass of people on the edge of the dance floor. The music is just as loud as you remember and you welcome the thumping bass music as it pounds through your veins and echoes in your chest. You slide into the booth next to Paul and Laura follows closely behind you.

“This place is so cool! We have to come back!” Laura yells over the music into your ear. You wince at the sound.

“Laura, we just got here,” you tell her while putting some distance between you though there isn’t much room as seven of you have squished into a booth probably meant to seat five.

“I know, but this place is awesome!” she yells back with more enthusiasm. This was going to be a very long night and you could not do it sober.

“I’m going to get a drink from the bar,” you say, excusing yourself and squeezing past Laura to exit the semi-circle shaped booth.

“Why don’t you just wait for the server?” Paul asks while holding up a menu from the stack placed on the table.

“Because I need something strong before I can sit down and socialize with you guys,” you reply with a sourly sweet smile.

Paul shakes his head and you head off to the bar ignoring his judgemental stares. You take the long way, bypassing the dancefloor to avoid any prolonged standing on your already aching feet trying to shuffle through the thick crowd. Though there are more people here tonight than the first time you came, you’re able to squeeze through relatively unscathed. Sometimes being small did have its perks. You find an empty barstool close to the spiral stairs that led to the second level and sit down.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asks. You narrow your eyes at him. This was not Jin.

“Where’s Jin?” you ask him.

“He’ll be here later. Do you -”

“And Suga?” you ask, cutting him off. How were you supposed to get your free drinks when this guy didn’t know who you were?

“Who’s asking for him?” he retorts, his eyes narrowing at you. His tall frame takes up most of the room in front of you as he leans across the bar, inches away from your face.

You try your best not to cower as you stare each other down, but his presence is powerful. His platinum blonde hair shines purple under the fluorescent colored lighting and his brown eyes are dark. His lean muscles sprawl taut under his skin and his black t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. Your hypothesis was right: everyone who works here is fucking beautiful.

“A valued customer,” you tell him. “He told me the next time I came in, drinks were on the house.”

“Suga said that?” the blonde asks incredulously. He lets out a boisterous laugh. “Now I know you bumped into me pretty hard a few weeks ago, but I didn’t think my chest was that hard,” he says while slapping it.

“Bumping into you? I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you don’t believe me, why don’t you ask him?” You cross your arms. “While you’re at it, you can make me an Old Fashioned.”

“Bossy, aren’t we? Honcho!” He waves his arm to someone. You turn and see the other man from outside walk over with a tray in his hand. Of course, he works here too. The all-black uniform should have given it away. Apparently, all the attractive men who live in this city did.

“What’s up?” he asks while passing him a ticket most likely filled with drink orders. He isn’t as tall, but his build is athletic and you can tell he works out.

“This young woman says that Suga told her next time she came in, drinks were on the house,” the bartender tells him, a teasing tone in his voice. The second man turns to look you up and down.

“Suga told her that? Babe, I think you’re thinking about the wrong man. Maybe it was Min? I know we all kind of look alike in the dark,” he suggests.

“That’ll be $10.50, sweetheart. Definitely seems more like Min’s type,” the bartender agrees, giving you a once over. He sets the Old Fashioned down in front of you. You scowl at both of them.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You think I’m making this up? Fine,” you say, hopping off the stool. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll go get him myself.”

You hate most people and you hate most clubs, but one of the things you despise the most is being called a liar. You pride yourself on being a woman of integrity and you would not let these assholes paint you to be something you’re not. As you turn to head up the stairs, you feel someone grab your wrist and you whip your head around.

“Where are you going?” Honcho asks, his dark eyes sizing you up.

“Let go of me,” you tell him and yank your arm from his grip. You weren’t doing this again, not tonight.

“It’s okay, Honcho. Let her go,” you hear the bartender say as you walk away.

You climb the stairs and strut across the walkway. Below you, the blonde bartender and Honcho, arms crossed, watch you as you make your way to the office. Motivated by their doubt, you walk a little more confidently towards the office door. You stop short, take a deep breath, and then bang on the door. There’s no answer. You knock again. Nothing. Just as you go to knock for the third time, the door flies open.

“Who the fuck is -?! Kid? What are you doing here? You can’t just walk up here!” Suga yells at you.

“Your employees are being assholes and don’t believe that you said I could have free drinks for some reason,” you tell him, ignoring his outburst.

“You came all the way up here to tell me that?” he asks, eyes wide. “Do you even know - You know what? It doesn’t matter,” he finishes.

“I don’t like being called a liar,” you state.

“You’re bold, kid. I’ll give you that.” He shakes his head and shuts the door behind him, locking it.

He walks past you and heads down the stairs. You turn and follow him back to the bar. Though Suga is short and you are in heels, he moves much quicker than you expect. By the time you make it downstairs, he’s already leaning against the bar and signaling for the bartender to come over. Your Old Fashioned is sitting right where you’d left it. The bartender walks over and grins at you.

“I see you found him,” he says with a smile.

“Moon, why are you patronizing our customers?” Suga sighs. The bartender laughs.

“Always gotta check orders, boss,” Moon chuckles. Suga narrows his eyes at him.

“Look, just give her what she wants okay? You know I have other things to look at right now and I can’t have you fucking around.” You grin smugly behind Suga’s back, your short stature barely visible over his mint-green head. You didn’t like to think of yourself as cocky, but most times, when you were right, you were right. You saunter towards the bar and climb back onto the barstool you’d previously vacated. Moon’s eyes narrow and he glances over at you.

“Alright, Suga. I’ll stop fucking around and get the job done like you asked,” Moon spits. You survey Suga’s face as it falls and you feel the mood shift drastically as unspoken words pass between the two men.

“Can I have a new one? You never know what crazy people will do around here, you know?” You ask and add the please at the end, smiling sweetly at Moon, drawing the attention back to you.

“Y/N!” You barely hear Laura yelling your name over the music. “Y/N, are you okay?!” she screams over the music. You watch her hobble over to the bar with her drink in her hand. You know her feet hurt just as much as yours do and it shows in the way she walks.

“Paul and I saw you go up the stairs and I wanted to make sure everything was okay,” she continues when she gets closer.

“Everything’s great. Hey, do you want another one of those? Moon was it? Could you make her a strawberry daiquiri along with that Old Fashioned?” You ask. You shouldn’t enjoy this as much as you are.

“She’s real bold,” Moon says, turning to Suga, the mood seeming to return to its previous vibe though you can sense the tension between the two of them.

“That’s what I said.” You grin at Suga.

Moon sets your drinks down and you take a small sip, savoring the taste of the brown liquor. Observing Moon and Suga over the rim of your glass, the two of them have hushed words in a corner. Though Suga supposedly owns the club, it seems as though Moon is calling the shots based on their body language. Laura sits next to you and interrupts your examination as she starts talking about work-related issues. Laura is a sweet girl and as much as you want to be an active listener, paying attention to her drone on and on about Paul asking Melissa to lunch every day instead of her can only be so interesting after 20 minutes of the same story.

“Look Laura, I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back, okay?” She nods and you leave her at the bar after finishing the last bit of your drink.

It wasn’t a surprise to see the line to the ladies’ room outside the door, soft chatter filling the hallway as you wait. This was one of those times when being a woman wasn’t fun. At the rate this line was going, you would have permanent blisters on your feet. The heat isn’t as stifling and you’re grateful you remembered a hair tie as you scrape your curls into a low messy bun. You shuffle forward with the rest of the women as the line advances and you thank the sweet gods when you can finally see the stalls. A few more minutes pass and then it‘s finally your turn. You practically run into the stall, slamming it behind you. Once you’ve finished and flushed, you exit the stall and hear screaming.

You rinse your hands quickly and peer around the propped open door. The line had disappeared and the small hallway and rest of the restroom was empty. This was not regular partygoer screams of fun. No, this is something much more gruesome. You peek quickly down the hallway again from your hiding spot. The music is still blaring, but now it sounds eerily quiet for a Friday night at one of the most talked about clubs in the city. Something is wrong.

You slip off your heels and tuck them under your arms. You sigh softly as the blood rushes back to your toes. If it came down to it, they could be used as a weapon, but only if you had the element of surprise. Sneaking a look around the corner, you immediately draw back. A gun. Fuck. You turn back and quickly hide in one of the stalls on the left hand side of the restroom and crouch over the toilet, holding onto your heels with one hand and using the other to stay in place. You shut your eyes and try to even out your breathing. How the fuck were you supposed to get out of this?

The sound of a walkie talkie alerts you to the second presence in the room. Their steps are even as the person systematically checks the stalls. There are five stalls between yourself and the first door and you need to figure out something fast. The person had checked the second door and was moving onto the third. Taking a chance, you balance your shoes on your lap and shift your weight gently so you’re holding one foot in your dominant hand. Just as whoever is pushing open the third stall, you throw your shoe diagonally across the room under the stall next to you and hear it skid across the floor.

“What the fuck?” A man. Fuck. You pray that he hadn’t been looking too closely to see the initial direction the shoe had come from and was only focused on its destination.

Peeping through the small crack between the stall wall and the door, you see that his back is towards you. You take your second shoe and slide it in the direction of the main door of the bathroom. Through the small crack, you watch as he turns toward it again.

“Where the fuck are these shoes coming from?” You knew you only had a few seconds before he would forget about the shoes and resume his search. You take your chance.

As quietly as you can, you hop off the toilet seat and bolt out of the stall. Before he could fully turn after hearing the banging of the stall door against the wall, you jump on his back and wrap your arms around his throat as tight as you possibly can. He lets out a strangled cry as he drops his gun where it clatters to the floor. You press on his throat harder using the muscles in your forearm to apply more pressure. His hands are desperately clawing at your own as he stumbles around the room. Your grip around his waist falters when he slams you back into the glass mirror mounted on the wall. You hope the music is still blaring as the shattered pieces fall to the floor. The force of the blow has you slipping to the ground and you feel lightheaded. You know you can’t give up if you want to live.

“You fucking bitch!” he yells out hoarsely while clutching his throat. He turns to retrieve his gun from across the room and you grab the longest shard of glass from the ground that you can find before you launch yourself at him again.

You stab him in between the joint of his right shoulder, praying you’ve shoved it deep enough to sever the muscles and ligaments holding it together, leaving him unable to use his arm. Blood pools in your palm and you bite my lip to stop yourself from crying out. His shout is loud and you dive past him to grab the gun while he tries to remove the glass. You flip over onto your back and aim at his left knee as he charges towards you, right arm hanging down at his side, limp. Missing, you hit him in the thigh as he falls on top of you, groaning in pain. You scramble from beneath him and stand as he clutches his bleeding leg wound. Your breathing is heavy as you realize you had just shot a man, the cut on the back of your hand evidence as the gun had kicked back and cut you. Granted you have every right as he was trying to kill you first, but you’ve never fired a gun before yet here you were standing over the body of a potentially dead man.

“Don’t move,” you tell him as he writhes around on the floor. “And shut the fuck up before I give you something else to scream about.”

You look down at your stained clothing and ripped stockings. Blood is splattered around the room and the stinging in your palm intensifies. You can’t have him calling for help. Tucking the gun into the back of your skirt, you remove your stockings and shove them into his mouth, creating a makeshift gag. His breathing is shallow and you roll him onto his side so the glass is no longer pressing into his shoulder. You grab the walkie talkie and realize your hands are shaking as drops of blood hit the floor. Your skirt is ripped and your hair has fallen out of its bun. Your adrenaline rush is starting to fade and you can feel the pain radiate from the back of your skull outward. The faint splattering of blood against your fingers makes your stomach churns slightly at the sight. Fuck. You were probably concussed.

Glancing back down at the man who now seemed to be unconscious, you walk quietly back to the main door of the bathroom and poke your head around. No one is in the hallway. You realize that the music is off but the strobe lights are still going. You assume that you shot the man while the music was still playing and that’s why no one had come running. Both hands on the gun and held at your side, you inch your way closer to the end of the short hallway. You’re trying to stay alert and keep your breathing even, but it’s becoming more difficult as time passes.

Crouching down by the entryway to the main floor, you try to scout the location of everyone. You can no longer see Laura, but Paul is across the room hiding under the table with some of your other coworkers. The rest of the partygoers are all laying down on the floor as the lights continue to pulse and flash. Min is by the door leading to the stairs to exit with the bouncer, a man pointing a gun to both of their heads. Honcho and the DJ are on their knees in front of the small stage below the DJ booth with another man holding guns to their heads too. The strange thing is neither Min, the bouncer, Honcho or the DJ look scared. In fact, they were staring at Jin, Moon, and Suga behind the bar, as if they were waiting for something.

“You guys mean to tell me that you know nothing about our loss of business?” the man in the center of the room asks. “Nothing at all?” You count three men pointing guns at the three men behind the bar, but know there are probably more upstairs.

“Nothing man. We’ve never seen you guys before,” Moon answers.

“Bullshit! That’s not what they told me,” he replies. He waves his pistol around aimlessly.

“Whoever gave you that information was wrong. We have no idea what you’re talking about. Just let the people leave and we can talk this out,” Moon says again.

The man in the center looks like he’s growing visibly agitated as he paces in the small open area of the dance floor. You can hear the soft whimpers from some of the people on the ground. You breathe out softly and try to keep your eyes focused on the man in the center. He’s tall and skinny with deep lines etched into his forehead as if he’s never experienced peace. His coat is thick and looks just as expensive as the suit he wears underneath it. You know there’s no point in taking any aim anywhere the coat covers because it would never make it past the first layer of fur.

“You little shits think you’re so smart, huh? As if I could let any of these people go after they’ve seen my face.” He chuckles. A horrified shriek echoes in the room.

“Shut up!” he screams and points his gun in the direction he thinks the sound comes from. Though he’s fairly young, you can tell he can’t hear very well as the shriek comes from the left side of the room and he was facing right.

“You fuckers moved to a big city and think no one would think to check you out and figure out what you’re really up to, huh?” You also realize he can’t see very well. Anyone looking at him would think he’s glowering at the three men behind the bar, but you can tell he’s squinting to try and see them better through the bright lighting; he’s nearsighted.

“Listen you crazy fuck, if you wanted to talk business, you could have walked in here nicely and asked about us instead of terrorizing our customers,” Suga spits. This was not going to end well.

“And who the fuck do you think you are?” The man roars, walking closer to the bar.

You watch as Moon’s jaw visibly clenches and unclenches as he tries to deescalate the situation almost in rhythm to the strobe lights. You know you’re running out of time before things potentially become bloody. There’s no way in hell you’d be able to hit a moving target; you’d figured that much out when the gunman charged at you and you shot him in his thigh instead of his knee. You try to stay calm and think of the best possible solution, but the lights are bothering your eyes. The fucking lights! If he could barely see with all the bright flashing lights, his range of vision should reduce with less light in the room. You have to shoot out the lights.

“Suga, shut the fuck up,” Moon grits out through clenched teeth. You squint and try to count the number of lights hanging from the ceiling.

“You gonna let him talk to you like that, sweetheart?” The well-dressed man cackles while holding his belly, his head thrown back. “Are you his bitch?” He sneers. Suga lunges forward and you hear guns cock. It didn’t matter how many lights there were, you just need to hit as many as you can.

“You think you’re tough kid? We’ll see how tough you are with a bullet in your brain,” the man says coldly, taking another step forward.

Just as he’s taking aim at Suga, you fire the first shot and miss the lights closest to Min. Your coordination is off. You feel seven pairs of eyes snap towards you and you make eye contact with Min from across the room.

“Fucking shoot her!” someone yells. You duck down as a rain of bullets fired toward your direction.

Screams echo around you as people try their best to get away from the danger. You ignore the guns pointing at you, firing, and stand up to take better aim at your target. You pray there are enough bullets in the chamber to get the job done as you squeeze the trigger repeatedly, aiming as best as you can. Your ears are ringing from the shots which are wild and you’re surprised as you manage to hit three sets of lights before you run out of bullets.

“Get down!” You focused back on the scene in front of me. You hear the shots fire and start to duck, but you weren't fast enough. With your arms still outstretched holding the gun, a bullet grazes across your upper arm. The skin burns and you cry out in pain. You drop the gun as Jin grabs you and pushes you closer towards the restroom, shielding you with his large body. Fuck, it was going to be a really long night.  

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ⓒ joon-ipersgirl, 2020

[KH+DA] A Life Forgotten

Summary: Inspired by @chibi-mushroom‘s Dragon Age AU for the Kingdom Hearts series, focused solely on Anora. [can be read standalone without knowledge of Dragon Age or Kingdom Hearts][oneshot]

Rating: K

Word Count: 2,215

If you like the story, please reblog!

---

“Jump, Razzie!”

The little girl, no more than 5 or 6 years old, hesitated for a moment. Her short, raspberry red hair was gently tussled by the wind that passed by the top of the cliff. Her cousin, Kieran, waited for her at the base of the cliff with his arms outstretched. The smile on his face illustrated that this was nothing more than a game- like they were playing in a parlor with the girl about to jump off the table. But the distance was far greater than that. Quite a ways down, actually.

This was where most of her memories started. This cliff, her cousin patiently waiting for her, and her tiny heart beating in her chest like it wanted to come out. The memory was so old that it usually felt like a dream instead. She tried hard to hold on to it; it was all she had left of a life she never knew.

She took a few steps back, then started to run at full force before jumping off the cliff. She couldn't keep her eyes open as she fell. The wind stung if she tried. But there was a peace as she fell; it felt like the world was slowing just for her as she made her free fall. No one but her cousin could see that she was actually slowing her descent through an unconscious act of magic. To the outside observer, Anora Guinevere Ravishta was flying.

Even when her arms started to wrap around Kieran, it felt like she was trying to hug him, not holding on to him for dear life after making a fate-defying fall. Her sense of weightlessness immediately left when she had wrapped her entire little body around her cousin. She allowed her eyes to flutter open and was instantly greeted with her cousin's beaming smile.

“You did it Razzie!” Kieran happily cheered, doing a little jig as he held her. Anora was sent into a flurry of giggles from the movement. Her cousin's laughter mixed with her own as he slowly ceased dancing to press their foreheads together. What stopped this memorable moment between the cousins was the sound of someone clearing their throat not far from them. The duo turned their attention to a Templar.

This Templar wore an armor that would very soon be very familiar to Anora. The top portion of the Templar regalia as much like that of a regular knight, the symbol of their organization taking a prominent stance on the breastplate. The lower half was more like a blood red robe that stopped a bit ways from the ground. On the Templar's head was a square-like helmet that did not give any indication of what this person looked like under. Anora shrunk a little. She had yet to know the wrath of the Templar Order, but even now she felt intimidated by their armor.

“The young girl's father is here to see her.” the Templar told the two in a gravely voice.

For a small, subtle, moment, Kieran held Anora bit tighter.

“Tell him we'll be there soon.” he affirmed, regardless. The Templar nodded and went back to the main camp to pass the word along.

Kieran waited for the Templar to be out of eye range before setting Anora down. Hand in hand, the two walked back to the main encampment. Anora had decided quite early on that the Avvar were a weird set of people. They were a nomadic bunch, never quite staying in the same place for very long, and their houses were more teepees and tents than brick and mortar. Anora was more fascinated with the augur. The augur was a special mage that frequently talked to the spirits from the Fade- or, as the Avvar called it, the Land of Dreams. The augur talked to the spirits from the Fade, to whom the Avvar refeered as gods, and in trade the spirits watched over the Avvar people.

The Templars were not easily a welcomed (or even a familiar) party among the Avvar. Many of the Templars from this side of the mountain came from Ferelden. A feud between the Avvar and Fereldens was a long and bloodied one- the reminder of which came from one passing look at the glorified soldiers. Kieran and Anora were Ferelden as well, but there was a small exception to them that caused either indifference or quiet scorn. Kieran was a student from the University of Orlais, sent to train into becoming an ambassador of sorts for the Avvar people. The Orlesians were more welcome than the Fereldens, due to the former providing trade and goods that the Avvar could not make otherwise. Had Kieran not be the kind, easy going young man he was, the Avvar would have denied him the moment the empress requested him.

Anora had never quite been sure when the Templars arrived at the Avvar encampment. Despite all the talk then, there were only four of them. She would not understand until later how much danger a single Templar could carry, or what the Avvar did to train their kind's mages. She would not know that Kieran had tried to delay the Templars from finding her by having her with him. She never even realized that the Templar in charge had been her own father. Perhaps, in another time, Kieran would have been successful in keeping her with the Avvar. Maybe she would have become the augur's apprentice. But in this one, she was made prisoner.

Her father, like the other Templars, was dressed in the standard regalia. She would never know his face, but his voice was a lot like Kieran's.

“It is time to stop running,” he said, more to Kieran than the both of them, “Anora is being sent to the Circle.”

“I won't let you do that.” Kieran opposed. “She'll be safe here with the Avvar. You have no right to take care of her anymore.”

“She will go where I say.” Anora's father demanded in return. His stance was neutral, almost unnervingly so, as his voice rose to thunderous levels. “She is a mage, she is Ferelden, she must go to the Circle as per the Chantry's laws!”

Kieran was visibly shaking.

“Anora, go to our tent.” her told the little girl, his tone riddled with a harshness not intended for her. “Unco and I need to talk in private.”

If Anora had known then that this would be the last time she'd see her cousin for almost two decades, she would have put up more of a resistance. But, in this very moment, she looked from Kieran to the Templar before giving a small nod and doing as she was told. They both listened for the sounds of her tiny footfalls to fade before giving each other deadly glares.

“You're not taking her.” Kieran said first. “The Avvar have one of the better methods of letting mages begin their talents, and it doesn't involve keeping her held captive.”

“No child of mine will become an abomination to 'begin her talents.' It's a bloody miracle that we have no control over stamping out all of these undocumented mages. Anora is Ferelden, ergo we must-”

“It doesn't matter whether Anora is Ferelden or not!” Kieran thundered, stamping a foot to the ground and clenching his hand into a tight fist. “She's family! You can't abandon family to rot in some fancy named prison cell!”

Anora's father was silent for a long time. The air electrifying around the two men as both were too stubborn to agree on the other's solution.

“What would a boy like you know about family?” Anora's father then slowly asked. Hatred dripping from his voice with every chilling syllable.

“Apparently more than you! How could you even think about abandoning your own dau-”

Kieran never got to finish because his uncle had been so enraged that he slapped him. The young man immediately staggered backward, nursing his cheek as the wound throbbed. The Templar stepped closer, taking the young man by the scruff of his collar to demand eye contact.

“You understand little of the sacrifices it takes to be in my position.”

“But you always have a choice.” Kieran spat. “Don't you?”

Once more, a silence came between the two before the Templar set Kieran down. No other words were exchanged between the two as the Templar left. Neither of them even needed to say where he was going. It took Kieran a moment to process this, and when he did he let out an anguished yell as he started to charge after the Templar. He didn't get far because the augur had appeared directly in his path.

“Let her go.” the augur said to him in a soft, comforting, tone.

A spell had not being cast, but in that moment everything in Kieran paused. He looked at the augur with bitterness and equal exhaustion. With the traditional mask the augur wore that covered all but their mouth, it was hard to gauge just what expression the augur was giving the young man.

“Excuse me?” was all he could say. He didn't mean for it to come out so harsh, thankfully the augur gave a nod of silent apology.

“The old gods that protect our hold have spoken, young one. Her destiny lies at the Circle.”

For a moment, Kieran was too stunned to respond. When he did talk, his voice wavered; “You… you talked to your spirits about her, when we're not even…?”

“The gods protect our hold because we give them gifts and offering, not because they have a fated loyalty to us.” the augur explained. “We give them what they ask, and in return they show us their wisdom. It has been this way for millennia and it will be that way for the next millennia.”

Hearing this, Kieran was even more at conflict. “Ser, in all respects, I think you fail to understand how differently magic is treated outside of the Avvar. If Anora goes to the Circle, then she may never get out. She may even forget that I'm...”

But the augur silenced him with only a gentle hand on Kieran's shoulder.

“The gods gave me a message for you- one of assurance. They said, 'kin has betrayed her, but love will protect her.' Trust the gods, young one, they know more than we could ever fathom.”

Kieran didn't know when he started crying. He knew his legs gave out before trying to hold onto the augur for dear life. The augur was patient, allowing the young man to let out his frustrations, fears, and sadness out. Only fate could guide Anora now.

. . .

They never even got to say goodbye.

The Templars left the Avvar clan within the hour. When Anora had come to realize that she would never return to her cousin, she cried a lot too. The Templars were not as understanding as the augur had been- telling her that she had to shut up. One Templar even slapped her, which only made things worse. By the time the company arrived at Kinloch Hold, Anora's face had become stained with tears. No Templar pretended to be kind as they moved her inside.

If she had noticed things a bit more clearly then, she would have realized that one of the four Templars never entered the hold. He had remained behind, contemplating the wisdom of his young nephew, while also wondering how he was request a change of station.

As Anora was brought into the hold, forced into several corridors she would come to recognize like the back of her hand, the company went past two new Templars and a girl just a year older than Anora herself. The other girl, sporting blue hair with matching eyes, suddenly stopped in her tracks to gap in awe at the new girl. One of the Templars noticed the blue haired girl's surprise, then took a look at the Templars. In seeing Anora, the Templar seemed to understand why the blue haired girl could not stop staring.

“It seems you may be meeting a new friend, Aqua.” the Templar said to the girl with a grin.

“I doubt it, Campbell.” the other Templar huffed. “She was among the Avvar when she was reported. May already be an abomination. I heard that after they collect her phylactery, she'll be sent to First Enchanter Mickey right away.”

“If her being an abomination is such a concern, shouldn't she see the First Enchanter now instead of later?” Campbell questioned with a raise of his eyebrow. Aqua looked up at the Templar with a curious tilt of her head.

“Why would she be an abomination?” the young girl asked- her voice sounding even more curious than what her expression was.

Both Campbell and the other Templar looked down on her in such a way, Aqua shrunk a little in her spot. It was Campbell who bent down to give her head a little pat.

“Keep to your studies, Aqua,” he assured her, “You'll find out on your own eventually.”

The seven year old still curiously looked at him before a wide smile stretched across her face. “Right.” she agreed with a confident nod.

But, still… just who was that girl?

THIEF

Chapter 1

         DATE          NOV 14TH, 2042

         TIME          PM 05:17:08                          :09                          :10…

Deviancy had given Connor a new perspective on Detroit, one that he would forever be indebted to Markus for allowing him to achieve. As he entered the Detroit City Police Departments headquarters and ascended in the elevator to where the police offices were, now frequented by both human and android officers, he pondered various topics while deftly flicking his coin from one hand to the other.

To clarify, it had been four years since Markus had led his revolt in pursuit of freedom and equality for androids, both deviant and otherwise, and ultimately won the favour of those who had once been their oppressors. It had been an arduous journey, with many casualties, but ultimately their goal was achieved; androids were now a recognized people and were finally free. There was still much work to be done and in the years since those fated days, Markus had worked tirelessly to bridge a gap that many had deemed impossible to completely fill. So far it had all be favourable due to the determination of Markus to lead a peaceful revolution, one that had brought many humans around to their cause. Their plight had resonated with many who themselves had felt downtrodden and outcast, and Connor felt himself comparing it to other accounts in history where humans had turned on their own kind just as easily; it was in their nature to be this way, he would often remind himself, to keep any negativity in check. With a flick of his wrist, he captured the smooth metal coin in between his fingers, brow creasing briefly. A report had been filed; an altercation between two humans and an android with another human having been caught fleeing the scene. As the words flitted in his cybernetic brain he felt a small frown tug at his lips. Although there was much positive progress in the way of equal rights and liberties for androids there were still those who feared the changes, both human and androids alike. It was inevitable that there would still be clashes, as Markus himself had informed the people of Jericho, and soon the peoples of the world, but Connor felt somewhat calmer knowing that there was a conscious effort now to limit these instances. Especially as he was able to return to his previous occupation within the Detroit Police Force. Now a fully-fledged Detective, no longer attached to Cyberlife since its collapse, Connor now focused on being able to help Markus in the best way he knew how; by ensuring that androids contributed to society in a positive way. Pulling himself from his reverie as the metallic ding of the elevator doors opening sounded, Connor politely nodding his head to a pair of other detectives that entered the elevator as he left, his feet carrying him swiftly to the bright, open room where he worked. The layout and the design were still the same, with tables lined out neatly with each lieutenant’s name presented on a plaque, but now there was one more decorated desk— his own. “Good evening, Lieutenant,” Connor smiled as he strode to his desk, situated opposite the decorated, yet grizzled, detective and his partner of some time. “Hey Connor,” came a somewhat exasperated sigh, to which Connor’s brows furrowed once more, his head tilting a fraction as he assessed the situation. Hank looked tired, far more so than usual, and Connor noted with some shock that there were no traces of whiskey in the cooled coffee that sat forgotten in his mug. Ceasing his analysis Connor settled at the edge of Hank’s desk, glancing at a report the older man had been staring at for what he imagined to have been a while, judging by the way he seemed to have no focus on it whatsoever. “You look tired, is it a rough case?” Connor spoke out, inclining a hand to the report Hank possessed, expression becoming more perplexed when a gruff laugh was his response and a shake of the head. “No, no, actually, it’s pretty shit. Fowler thinks I ought to take it easy every once in a while, the bastard,” Hank almost snarled, soon tossing the report onto his desk without a care. He glanced up at Connor, who looked at it expectantly. Still something of a poodle, that boy was, and Hank almost missed the motion of his hand already waving to allow Connor a read. “Go for it,” he huffed, turning his eyes to his terminal, “just some burglary attempt, nothing major, he just wanted my input since the witness is— Hmph .” The way Hank abruptly ended his sentence didn’t go unnoticed by Connor as he took the report in hand to read what little had already been documented, eyes scanning over it wordlessly. He looked sour, like in those first meetings between them when all of this began, and it worried Connor. In truth, human emotion was still somewhat new for the android, though he was more at peace with it than some. Slipping from his perched position, Connor gave a small nod, setting the report back down. In seconds he had already gained the knowledge, the rest was a mere formality. “I believe the fact than an android is involved may be a reason why Captain Fowler assigned you the case,” he gave a small shrug, locking gazes with Hank. The older man only hummed in response, leaning back in his chair, giving the non-verbal hint for him to continue. “After all, we are still, technically, the best team for handling any deviant behaviour, isn’t that correct Lieutenant?” A small, chipper smile was given, and he could see Hank’s shoulder slack in acceptance. Connor could more often than not bring the old detective around to his way, in that same way a child always gets what they want in one capacity or another. With a grin Connor straightened his tie, falling into step with Hank as the two made their way to the interrogation rooms.

Connor had initially been indifferent to interrogating the woman that had been caught fleeing the scene. He concluded that she was a criminal, albeit not as dangerous as the android they were investigating who had been present, and thus deemed it another step towards completing the mission. He did find it interesting to note that it was statistically higher for men to be caught attempting burglary than women, but he still held the conviction that she was just a criminal. However it soon became clear to him as they continued that she was no ordinary burglar or indeed no ordinary woman. It had taken mere seconds, perhaps even less if that were possible, to hear her audible growl as her eyes narrowed on the mirror before her, one that she outed as being two-way and no doubt concealing the detectives within, an iciness to her tone that caused even him to stiffen. She spoke out harshly, daring them to come back and try to make her talk. It was this statement that caused Hank to groan as he stood at Connors side, hand dragging down his face; no doubt this was why he seemed so drained earlier— he’d already attempted to speak to her before. Before any other words were uttered Connor initiated a scan, one that turned his LED a consistent spinning circle of yellow. In truth he had been reluctant to remove it, becoming almost fond of the light at his temple, viewing it as part of his still-forming identity. Connor the android sent by Cyberlife still remained, he simply had evolved, but like other androids and even humans he wanted to still resemble some small part of the life that led him to this point. Instantly there came a mugshot photo of the suspect before him, her name suspended in neat lettering beneath it. VERONICA VORNE. The name intrigued him, mostly because of the alliteration of her name and its ease when being pronounced. He continued to sift through the walls of text, briefing himself on the basic demographics and the like that had been catalogued for her file before coming to her criminal history. Predominantly she was known for serial burglary, though one account of public assault coupled with resisting arrest had resulted in a two year sentence. Having ascertained such information he then moved on to the young woman herself. Shrouded in the typical dark attire of a thief she looked so stark against the white background, like a concise Rorschach inkblot. The clothes were thick, black sleeved shirt and denim jeans, designed to keep her well insulated and warm in the cold November weather, just as the solid boots on her feet did. As she lifted her wrists to flex them, testing the range of movement she had with the handcuffs, Connor noticed her fingerless gloves. He then moved to her leather coat, which was still zipped and dappled with wet patches from where snow had melted upon it. It seemed fitted to her shape, and Connor couldn’t help but wonder how she was able to evade capture long enough to have made it outside while wearing it. He noticed no hood nor cap on her person that would have obscured her face. It was then he recalled an officer with a black balaclava in hand, speckled with moisture in places, which was most likely hers. No doubt it was taken upon her arrest so they could identify her. It was in this moment that Connor took a moment to survey her face, taking in her features. Everything about her seemed to resemble the stark contrast between dark and light. Deep-coloured eyes, glowing a rich brown in the fluorescent of the lights were set against the bright whites of her eyes, though he detected the faintest of blood vessels there; from stress, he surmised. They were framed in long, delicate lashes that dared to flutter ever so lightly every time she heard movement behind the locked door. Then his gaze shifted to observe her skin, which was rosy to a degree, as he had seen from her mugshot photograph, yet the harsh light only exaggerated the pale undertones. Tilting his head minutely during the scan he noted the softness of the features themselves, their femininity, as his eyes looked over her dainty nose, to her lips. They were a dusty shade of pink, like the Spring Roses he sometimes saw in the park and would have looked warm and inviting had they not been pulled into a harsh frown. With a turn of her head towards the camera her hair gave a small flourish, having been released from the confines of her hood upon capture judging from the tousled look it held. Despite this frazzled appearance Connor noted its healthy condition and medium length, it falling in waves down her back. The colour of its strands resembled her eyes in its rich brunette colour and sported a gleam that eluded to her fondness for hair care. A well-kept thief, he noted to himself. With the rudimentary scan complete, the whole process taking less than a few seconds, Connor returned to reality, his gaze now looking to Hank once more, relaying the information he’d gathered as he so often did. “Veronica Vorne, born in downtown Detroit on—” “Relax, I know who she is,” Hank soon interrupted, watching with some amusement as Connor looked at him in confusion, his eyebrows soon raising upwards towards his hairline. “Not personally ,” Hank quickly added, “but our paths have crossed a few times, little shit.” The term was said with a fondness Hank didn’t show often, and even then it had only been picked up on because Connor was an android. Tilting his head, Connor silently willed Hank to continue, wishing to learn more, earning a deep sigh from the older officer and a roll of his eyes. “I’m not playing ball tonight Connor, so stop lookin’ at me like that! Just go, get in there, and let’s do our thing, Christ.” It was clear it grated on Hank’s nerves to be pulled into such a basic case, though Connor knew there may be more to it. He would pry into it at a later time, for now he tasked himself with following Hank’s lead, eyes falling upon the wayward thief once the door sealed behind him.

It was the sharp sound of the door opening that made Veronica’s eyes turn to them, eyeing them warily for a moment before widening in recognition; she'd almost expected it to be that asshole, Gavin, again. Hank’s name fell from her lips and Connor would have almost mistaken it for breathless if not for the fact she was not out of breath at all, at least according to his interface anyway. humans had such strange mannerisms, ones that were often contradictions to themselves. Connor took to standing back from the table, allowing Hank to sit opposite her, and for a moment all was silent. Both Hank and Veronica sat back in their respective seats, Hank with his arms crossed, studying the woman before him, and Veronica with an almost childish pout of her lips, eyes narrowed again as she attempted to formulate a way to be out of this predicament. Hank was the first to break their stalemate, shifting to lean forward with his arms resting on the table, gaze staring at her squarely. He read out her rights for a second time, to which she gave consent to waiver, and it was then that Connor learnt that she’d already violated the agreed terms of her bail once before. This, the android concluded, would result in jail time unless she cooperated with them on their investigation. Raising an eyebrow Hank regarded Veronica as her own brows knitted together for a moment, contemplating the situation; tell them what she knew and be a rat or continue her vow of silence and maintain a paper thin loyalty. The quote “no honour among thieves” suddenly came to Connors mind as he continued to stand with his arms folded across his chest. There was a soft sigh from the woman, tired and annoyed, as she looked away from them both. It was then that she finally opened her mouth to speak, and Connor felt himself perk up in anticipation of what she was going to say. “I don’t know anything about an android, or an android murdering anyone. I was just there to rob the place, alone .” To say that Hank was enraged by her statement was obvious from the way he slammed a hand down upon the metal table, causing the young woman to jump in her seat, eyes wide; startled. They bickered back and forth, starting with Hank’s low growl that she was spouting a load of bullshit and he was in no mood for it. Veronica, on the other hand, maintained her innocence in the matter vehemently, suddenly panicked. She claimed that she’d entered the premises alone with the sole intention of committing a robbery and had no knowledge that there’d been an android there at all nor that said android had been involved in a previous murder that they were currently investigating. However Connor could see from the subtle twitch of her eye that this was at the very least, a half-truth, to which he stepped forward and placed a strategic hand upon Hank’s shoulder, just at the moment he was about to lunge forward with another verbal attack. “Might I try, Lieutenant?” The request was simple enough, but Connor was unsure if Hank would allow him the chance to question Veronica, even though he was rather stressed by the whole situation. For a moment or two Hank regarded him, eyes narrowed suspiciously while he did so, before he gave a huff and a nod, vacating the seat. With a polite incline of his head Connor settled into it, briefly glancing to the door as Hank exited the room; perhaps it was better for all of them that he was given time to cool down. Throughout the whole thing Veronica had sat in relative silence, but as Connor turned his gaze to her, hands clasping together upon the table before him, he noticed how she looked almost distressed that Hank had left the room. With a calm smile upon his face Connor watched her closely, tilting his head slightly as he noticed how she seemed to retreat slightly within herself, her eyes becoming wide and almost fearful. Was she aware that he’d caught onto her bluff? Did she know she stood no real chance against him when it came to the interrogation? Connor was curious to discover the reasoning behind her fear but wanted first to calm her enough so that she would at least talk to him. “Hello, my name is Connor, and you are?” He started out modestly, casually, but it only served to cause her to stiffen in her seat. His smile faltered slightly into a small frown but he refused to give up. He would try a kinder approach before he would press her any further. Glancing to the mirror he sighed, looking back at her once more. “Lieutenant Anderson may seem coarse in his approach, but he means well,” Connor began, watching as Veronica shifted her gaze to the mirror briefly before locking her gaze to him again, following each movement he made. Taking this as a positive sign, Connor continued, even going so far as to lean in slightly, regarding her more. “He just wants to solve the homicide investigation and we think you may have crucial information—” “I don’t know anything!” The abruptness of her interruption caused Connor to pause, his LED flickering a circle of yellow before he straightened in his seat. He noted how Veronica then swallowed nervously, knowing that her outburst had convinced him of the opposite, that she did indeed know something about the case. Lowering her head down she forced her gaze downcast, settling to stare at her bound hands, form fidgeting slightly in her seat. Connor knew that he was close, something in itself that surprised him given how aggressive she’d been beforehand at times when Hank had been interrogating her. Clearly there was an emotional element that he had uncovered, or perhaps it was the fact that he was a complete stranger, and an android, that had shaken her resolve, and caused her to become flustered. Connor was undecided for the moment but felt the time right to begin to apply pressure to the situation. “You do realize that if you don’t help me you will go to prison,” he snapped suddenly, harsh and unforgiving, once again causing her to jump slightly in her seat. “Tell me, Veronica, do you want to go back to prison again?” His question was pointed and it caused her eyes to immediately fly up to meet his own, her hands splaying out on the table’s surface as she shook her head meekly. It was a slow process, but Connor soon began to pull threads of relevant information from her. It was interesting to find that she did indeed know nothing of the android that they were investigating, despite both having been reported to be in the same property, yet he did learn of another android, the one who she had been indirectly protecting all along. An older model, possibly an AF200 model judging from her limited description, discarded and left to shut down, that she had named Zen. Veronica had refused to let them go unnoticed, to be forgotten. She took the android to her home and, with what little she had, attempted to repair or rebuild what she could. Of course she wasn’t even remotely qualified for such a task, but attempt it she did and this led her to steal so that she could then purchase or trade for what she needed. Connor listened quietly, his LED consistently yellow, until her tone lowered and her voice faded into silence. Her eyes were downcast once more and held a forlorn sense to them that caused Connor to unclasp his hands, reaching one out to gentle cover her own. At the gesture Veronica lifted her gaze ever so slightly, acknowledging the contact. They were both silent for a moment before Connor spoke up, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I give you my word that Zen will not be hurt, but I need you to be honest with me. Do you know anything about the android? Anything at all?” He pressed further, and although she was uncomfortable she did give a small nod that was coupled with a sigh. “I know someone who might know about the android. He’s done a couple jobs with me in the past, runs with a small group in the area where the guy was killed,” she hummed lightly, and Connor could feel her fingers twitch slightly underneath his own, unaware she was tentatively brushing the inside of his palm as though to calm herself. Catching herself part way through Veronica sucked in a breath, pulling her hand free to the edge of the table, eyes pointedly looking to the side. “I’ll see what I can get out of him,” she added, briefly glancing to the two-way mirror with a glowering expression. “You hear that Hank?” Came her biting comment, voice raised, “I’m going to see what I can do to help your little case!” She huffed, dropping back against her seat, almost as though she’d deflated. It was amusing to Connor, who sat with grin upon his lips, which on increased when she turned her gaze to him and gave a small flicker of a smile. It seemed like she was fighting herself to do so however by the way she turned her head away and tried to pinch her lips together, eyes glittering despite only looking at the wall. With the interrogation over, Veronica was escorted by Hank to one of the holding cells until the information she had given them could be credited and what little information they had could be written up. It needed to be collated with the rest of the information from the couple whose home she had tried to rob. In truth, she was still in a lot of trouble considering she had violated the terms given to her at her last arrest, despite having given them a possible lead, but that wasn’t the main concern Connor had. Remaining a few steps behind as he followed the pair Connor silently contemplated what would happen to her once the investigation was over. Of course, his rationale told him that she would continue to be as she was and that he would most likely cross paths with her again following the next crime she committed, but he also found himself thinking beyond that narrow, professional viewpoint. He was concerned that there would be no saving grace for her next time, that she would be arrested and charged and ultimately end up in prison for more than her previous sentence. It was then he recalled the android, Zen, whom she had become fond of. Like a lonesome puppy, who would care for them while she was gone? Who would inform them of her absence? The questions, though trivial in comparison to his investigation, bothered him and it was noticed immediately by Hank, who had now turned back to the android after Veronica was settled into the holding cell. “You alright Connor?” The older detective asked, concern lacing his gruff voice, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder. When he was met with only a simple yes Hank’s eyes narrowed and he hummed his suspicions. Casting a gaze behind him he spotted Veronica watching them with interest, eyes bright and curious before she quickly looked away. With a small huff of a chuckle, he guided Connor away back to their desks, already surmising what the issue could be. He may have been old, but he wasn’t stupid. Pushing the android down into his seat Hank moved to his own, settling into it with a deep sigh. There had been the glimmer of hope that he would be able to leave work early for once, but that had been long extinguished. Flicking his tired eyes to Connor he found the poor android to still looking as perplexed as before. Leaning back in his chair he contemplated opening that can of worms and ultimately decided that he owed Connor that much at least, given all they’d been through. With as much of an expectant look as he could muster, Hank sat up straight, gaining Connors full attention at last. “Something on your mind, Connor?” He then asked, resting his arms on his desk, eyebrows raising when the android opened his mouth to speak, with some difficulty he noted. “I’m curious, Lieutenant,” he began, to which Hank hummed dryly, already having guessed as much already, “what will happen to Miss Vorne once her usefulness has run its course?” He asked almost innocently, somewhat shocking the older detective. When Hank didn’t reply Connor continued on, brows furrowed, hands gesturing along with his voice. “I only ask because it’s statistically proven that offenders will continue to offend unless prevented from doing so, and she’s already stated that she steals in order to help repair the android she saved, Zen I believe she called them—” “Focus, Connor,” Hank drawled, leaning his head against his hand. “Ah, yes. What I mean to say is that I believe we should, at least, try to help her in some way. Maybe we could utilize her as some kind of informant, perhaps? Her connections may prove useful in our investigations, especially if the lead she’s already provided us proves correct,” he concluded, pursing his lips as he studied Hank’s expression. Connor could feel a sense of unease cross over him and he also detected panic flare within him, which only intensified when Hank snorted sourly and shook his head. “Holy shit, you’re worried about her!” He exaggerated, eyes wide as he swivelled slightly in his chair to look at his terminal, incredulous. Releasing a deep breath Hank attempted to distract himself with his work before looking to Connor once more, who looked at him with a look of despair painted on his face, like a puppy lost off its leash. “Veronica’s fine , Connor,” Hank attempted to console him, “she’ll give us the lead like she promised and she’ll prance outta here like nothing happened and returned to that android of hers, okay? There, did that clear your conscience?” The sarcastic nature of Hanks comment didn’t go amiss and Connor gave a frown in response, LED oscillating between blue and yellow before finally settling back to its standard blue ring. “Actually, Lieutenant,” Connor began pointedly, mimicking his sarcasm, turning his gaze toward the corridor that housed the holding cells, “I don’t believe that it has.” He then turned his gaze back to Hank only to see that he now held his head in his hands and was groaning at the situation before him. He knew that he could stop it before it could properly start by demanding that Connor let it go, but he also knew that Connor wouldn’t be able to do just that so easily and would probably attempt to do something himself to help her. Thus he decided that the best action to take was to give in to Connor’s newfound humanity and let the little shit in on the fun. Pushing his chair away from his desk with his feet Hank stood up with a grunt, beckoning Connor to follow him with a flick of his hand. “Well, are ya coming or what?” He then called, smirking at the sound of the android scampering to follow him towards the holding cells.

Captain Fowler was, to say the least, not impressed by Hank’s insubordination. To have released Veronica without permission had annoyed him enough, but to then come into his office and request, dare he say demand, that she be given a probationary period to try as an informant for their case? Well, that was something else entirely. Ultimately, with a lot of convincing from both Hank and Connor, the Captain reluctantly agreed to allow Veronica to operate as an informant on the condition that she would report any and all findings she could to them in order to further their case and any other cases that she may find knowledge of. Any leads that produced breaks in the case would result in leniency to her prior charges, something that would no doubt tempt her into doing a good job. There had also been the warning that if she didn’t perform well there would be consequences, but Hank hadn’t the patience nor the care to properly listen, but Connor had. It hardened his resolve to ensure she did well, and remained safe, while she worked alongside them. Upon seeing Hank and Connor move to leave the Captain’s office Veronica stood straight, watching them expectantly as they descended the small set of stairs, hands in front of her as her fingers twisted around the balaclava that had been taken from her previously. “So, what’s happening? Am I free to go now?” She asked eagerly, bouncing slightly on her heels. She needed to hurry home to check on Zen, to make sure the android hadn’t gotten into mischief while she’d been gone. Her expression dropped slightly when Hank began to explain the conditions of her release but she ultimately came to accept them. Not that she had much choice. The notion of working with someone on the inside brought forth memories of infiltrating Jericho for Connor, and although it wasn’t all a positive memory a small smile come to his lips as he recalled the moment he finally came into his own and became deviant. It opened to him a whole new perspective on life, one that he was now determined to embrace wholeheartedly. Amidst his recollections he’d noticed that Veronica had fallen a couple of steps behind them upon leaving the police headquarters, the cool night breeze having ruffled her hair. He stopped to watch for a moment to watch as she brushed the waves back, bringing her hood up to trap them. When he finally caught her attention he felt his lips twitch upwards, motioning for her to continue at his side. When she accepted the offer by falling into step beside him Connor felt a similar feeling to the one he’d experienced back in the police headquarters; a slight nervousness blooming in the pit of his artificial stomach so to speak. Humans would often engage in small talk when walking with one another, or so he’d observed, and since Hank had decided to stop and do just that with another officer who was just returning, Veronica was left to his company, and his company alone, so he took the chance to engage her in conversation. Pausing on route to Hank’s car, Connor turned his head to Veronica, who looked at him curiously, stopping as he had. It was now that he could truly regard the difference in height between them. He was at a minimum a few inches taller than her, give or take an inch due to the thick heel on her boots, for he had calculated her at five feet and five inches when inside the station, again taking the heel size into consideration. He gave a small, polite cough, having realized that he had been staring, a small blue hue lightly dusting the tops of his cheeks. Wanting to distract from any uncomfortable instances, Connor felt it best to begin a conversation with her, noting as he did so the small tremble in her limbs. “It’s a rather cold night, are you alright?” Although her clothes were insulated, the lack of movement meant that the chill of the night air was able to affect her, and Connor wanted her to feel comfortable, especially with him. They were going to be partners, after all, and her well-being and morale was now something to consider. “Oh, no, I’m fine,” Veronica replied with a soft smile before her brows furrowed slightly, taking in his smart appearance. “Aren’t you cold?” The question caused his own eyebrows to raise upwards slightly and he opened his mouth to correct her, for androids couldn’t feel the cold as humans could, before deciding that he would take her concern as it was. Giving her a small smile in response he shook his head, smoothing his suit jacket down with his hands on impulse. “No, I’m not cold, but thank you for asking,” he then replied, eyes drawn to the way her breath created entrancing wisps of mist in the air before vanishing without a trace. There was still so much that enthralled him about humans, from their mannerisms to their very beings, which was to be expected from an android programmed to be as inquisitive and curious as he was. Silence then fell upon them for a moment before a cough drew their attention, Connor turning his head to see Hank stood, alone, with his arms crossed, watching him and Veronica with an inscrutable look upon his face. “Is something wrong, Lieutenant?” Connor questioned, though he couldn’t understand if anything would be wrong. He had just been idly chatting while Hank himself had done so. “Well I’d like to get home before I freeze my balls off , thank you,” came Hanks sharp quip in response with a roll of his eyes, though his gaze soon narrowed with a huff when Veronica snickered at the comment, shaking her head lightly. Connor watched the small exchange with some interest before he regarded Veronica again, once more looking at her with a curious, if somewhat concerned, expression. “How will you be getting home?” He questioned, his auditory systems noting the sound of Hank entering his car; the familiar creak of the car door and the slam of metal. “Might I suggest you share a ride with Lieutenant Anderson and myself?” It was a kind gesture and an appropriate one to make, judging from the way Veronica smiled warmly. Thus he couldn’t help how his brows knitted together in confused shock when she politely, and somewhat awkwardly, declined. Her reasoning was that she didn’t want to be any more of a bother than she already had been for the pair and that her home wasn't so far away that she couldn’t walk there. “Oh,” he replied after some thought, looking dejected amidst his confusion, “I see, but I’m afraid I must insist. A woman shouldn’t walk the streets alone, especially on a winter’s night.” His heart, though artificial, was in the right place, and he wasn’t going to allow Veronica to put herself in danger for the sake of a little burden. One that he calculated would only be around twelve or so minutes, if the snow held off at least. Connor wanted to remain respectful of her independence but the android was too chivalrous to be beaten, and after a small bout of back and forth banter Veronica finally gave in with a sigh, thanking him quietly as he motioned with his hand for her to make her way to the car. It was a relatively quiet drive, with only the melodies of the quiet jazz that Hank enjoyed filling the space of the car. An obvious difference from the Heavy Metal Connor was usually met with. The android rode shotgun with Hank at the wheel, while Veronica was settled in the back behind him. Stealing a glance at her through the rear view mirror Connor noticed how she had her head turned to look out the car window, a weary expression on her face, illuminated at regular intervals by the street lights. He studied her until they reached her address, or as near to as she felt comfortable with revealing, and then he watched as she shifted forward in her seat, eyes looking between them both. “Thanks for the ride, guys, I appreciate it,” she murmured, nodding her head in acknowledgement as Hank assured her it wasn’t too out of his way, her gaze then turning to Connor, who had turned in his seat to regard her. “Goodnight, Miss Vorne, and please refrain from getting into any more trouble tonight,” Connors' voice held a teasing edge, one that caused her to smirk lightly in response. “I make no promises,” Veronica countered with a small chuckle and with that she slipped out of the car. She gave a small wave as she then crossed the street, blending into the shadows as she walked the rest of the small distance to her home, leaving Connor to decipher his thoughts about her.

Marriage of Convenience - Chapter 4

It’s Fili Friday! You know what that means. Chapter 4!

Chapter 4

They met weekly after the midsummer festival. Magnus grew quickly and by Durin’s Day, he stood as tall as the bottom of Fili’s ribcage. He knew various commands for everyday behavior but soon learned that he was also to be a guard dog for Sigrid, ready to attack and chase off anyone she indicated, unrelenting until she called him off. They practiced with Fili and Kili in full armor and heavily padded clothing until they were sure the dog would guard Sigrid against anyone when she gave the command.

With the first snows of winter, the parade of suitors dried up almost entirely. Only one or two showing up in a month. Fili and Sigrid also had to call off their weekly meetings to train Magnus as the snows obliterated their paths and made the trek up the mountainside too difficult.

The weather was harsh in Dale and Erebor as well as the surrounding lands. Wolves started circling close to the cities. Extra guards were posted at the gates and people scrambled to secure their homes against all beasts.

One particularly wintery day, Sigrid and Magnus left her home to aid a local woman who had just had a child. Sigrid puttered around the much smaller house, cleaning and cooking while the young mother cared for her newborn until her husband could return from his duties on guard on the city wall.

When he finally returned, it was already dark out.

“Perhaps you should stay here for the night, My Lady,” the woman said after she laid her baby down for the first part of the night. “It’s getting late.”

“It would probably be for the best,” the man said. “The wolves are close to the city walls tonight. The winter is harsh for us. It can only be worse for them. I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to enter the city tonight.”

Sigrid smiled. “I appreciate the offer, but my home isn’t far. I have my sword and Magnus with me. We’ll be all right for the short distance.”

“My Lady, are you sure? It’s snowing as well.”

Sigrid glanced toward the window. Indeed, fat snowflakes fell outside, limiting visibility. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted as she reached for her coat.

“Be careful, My Lady,” the woman said. “If the weather is this bad tomorrow, we’ll expect you to stay home or stay here for tomorrow night if you insist on coming again.”

“I understand,” Sigrid said. She snapped her fingers and Magnus trotted to her side. “Good night,” she said, receiving the same wish in return before closing the door behind her and stepping into the cold.

“Well Magnus,” she said. “Let’s head home.”

The large hound wagged his considerably fluffy tail and gave a soft but deep woof in return. Still a puppy in heart if not in size, the hound romped in the snow around her as they walked after she gave him the go-ahead to walk as he pleased as long as he stayed in sight. Sigrid listened, noting that the guardsman had been right. The wolves were near the city.

Magnus stopped in his romping suddenly, just a street away from her home. He planted his paws where he stood and started barking loudly, his hackles rising.

“Magnus?” Sigrid asked, her hand going to the hilt of her sword. The dog shifted, standing between her and the rest of the road back the way she’d come.

He snarled and lunged forward a few feet, still barking. She was about to call him back to her and to stop his barking when a pair of wolves slunk into her limited sight. She swallowed and drew her sword.

“Wolves!” She shouted. “Wolves in the city!”

The larger of the two beasts lunged toward Magnus.

“Magnus, Inkhir!” she ordered. The dog turned and bounded back to her. The wolf followed on his heels and Sigrid darted in, holding her sword with both hands. She slipped on ice and sliced the wolf along its side instead of stabbing it clean in the chest as she’d intended. It yelped and backed away, blood dripping from the cut but its eyes still fixed on her as she scrambled back upright. Magnus barked a challenge at them.

The second wolf attacked and the first followed right behind it. Grimly, Sigrid reset her feet in the treacherous snow. This time, when she brought her sword up, she hit true, burying it into the wolf’s neck when it jumped at her. Its weight pushed her back, falling on top of her and sending her sprawling under its bulk.

“Magnus! Igrid!” she cried, trying to push the dead wolf off her even as the wolf she’d first injured bore down on her.

Her dog, though not full grown lunged to the attack, bashing into the side of the wolf and clamping his jaws on its neck and hanging on. He dug his paws into the snow and started jerking backward, trying to pull the wolf off balance. The wolf twisted and squirmed, trying to sink its teeth into Magnus.

Sigrid pushed the body off her and clambered to her feet. “Inkhir!” she shouted to her dog. He released the wolf and backed away. The wolf tried to follow but Sigrid swung her sword again, this time hitting true and cutting deep into the wolf’s neck, partially severing its head.

“Sigrid! Sigrid! Are you alright?”

She looked up from where she stood, chest heaving and adrenaline quickly leaving her system.

“Da,” she said as her father reached her side. “I’m fine.” She turned her eyes back to the wolf she’d just killed. “They’re so skinny,” she said absently. “No wonder they came into the city for food.”

“Come,” Bard said, wrapping his arm around her. “Let’s get you inside.”

She nodded and barely took a moment to call for Magnus. The dog followed her and her father the rest of the way to the house. Dimly, she heard her father ordering others to take care of the corpses and to search the rest of the streets for wolves or anyone outdoors.

The next day, Bard ordered a curfew for the safety of his citizens, sighting the wolves that had attacked Sigrid the night before. That afternoon, a contingent of dwarves led by Prince Fili arrived in the city. The prince himself came to visit Bard in his home to discuss the quartering of dwarrow soldiers to help in the defenses, considering Dale’s walls still weren’t completely repaired and to check on Sigrid.

“I’m all right,” she said for what felt like the millionth time that day. “I didn’t even get scratched.”

“Well done,” Fili said with a grin. “You truly are a warrior for all you haven’t trained long. Do you know your people have already started calling you Wolf’s Bane?”

Sigrid looked to the side, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t want such a title. I feel like I should train more after last night,” she admitted.

“Then do so,” Fili said. “There is nothing wrong with more training.”

Sigrid nodded and vowed to stay at the guard post for extra training every day. It would take some rearranging of her schedule but she felt the need and so she would do it.

“Magnus did a great job,” she said, turning the attention away from herself. She told him how the dog had warned her and then protected her and followed all the commands she’d given him. Fili grinned as she spoke and then scratched the dog’s ears, complimenting him on his good work.

“I miss seeing you,” Fili admitted once they’d exhausted the topic of her fight with the wolves the night before. “Would you mind if I wrote to you until the snows melt enough for easier travel between here and Erebor?”

‘I’d like that,” Sigrid admitted. “Not many people my age want to talk like we did when training Magnus.”

Fili laughed. “I imagine not. Men don’t seem to be as interested in running a kingdom as you seem to be.”

Sigrid blushed. “My father is going to be crowned king,” she reminded him. “I need to know how to support him but that’s not all I meant. I miss the ease of talking to you. Everyone here is too conscious of my title.”

Fili sighed. “I understand,” he said. “I’ll write you a letter as soon as I get back to the mountain. I’ll instruct the raven to stay until you write me back. Just remember to feed them or they get irritated.”

She smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

~*~*~

Unfortunately, the title Wolf’s Bane stuck. A few days after Fili left, leaving dwarrow guards to supplement Dale’s own guards against the wolves and attacks from other dark creatures, Bard called her down to the sitting room. Someone had skinned and cleaned the wolves she’d killed and brought the hides to her as trophies. The pelts were warm and would be a nice addition to the blankets on her bed until she decided what to do with them.

~*~*~

To Sigrid, Lady of Dale, Daughter of Bard the Dragonslayer

Sigrid,

As promised, I’m writing to you my first moment of time away from others since I returned to the mountain. I’m sure you’ve noticed the falling snow and the severity of the blizzard outside. Due to the weather, uncle has closed Erebor for travel for the foreseeable future. No one is allowed outside the mountain unless on the most urgent business that must be approved by Uncle. He will be sending a letter o Bard shortly to inform him of the lack of trade coming from the mountain and will be urging him to do the same for the citizens of Dale. The squad I left behind with your guards will be staying until the roads are more easily traversed as well. They will be notified but if you were to go and speak with them, offer my personal thanks to them, I’d be grateful. Hopefully, they can help with your wolf problem.

There is a benefit to all the snow at least that I think you will agree with. With the roads unpassable, foreign dignitaries and thus prospective spouses will not be able to visit. I, for one, am glad for the reprieve of watching Dwalin beat dwarrowdams in combat. He beat the last one in under a minute and left her crying like a wounded orc child. It was rather pitying, to say the least. Perhaps it was a kindness though. In my experience, the ones that fight so poorly also offer up the poorest gifts of their craft. If this were true for this particular dam, I would have had to refuse her upon sight of the gift. It’s always more distressing when I have to turn them down personally instead of Dwalin or whatever guard is with Uncle for the day. I don’t understand why they always make crowns as their gifts as well. I already have access to more of those than I could ever need. I would much rather receive something useful, like a new sword or something.

But I digress.

I just received word from a trusted source upon my return. He looked into the suitor that you had Magnus chase off most recently (at least that I’m aware of. Have you had others since the one?). Apparently, you made the right choice. You’re not the first lady of noble standing he’s attacked. There have apparently been two others that reported his actions. Luckily, both were saved by passersby. We will be sending word to his people in order to inform them of his dishonorable actions and warn them that if they do not take action, we will and they will lose Erebor’s support and trade.

Nori (do you remember him? He was part of the Company) was quite impressed with how you handled him and the wolves when he heard of it. He seems to have a soft spot where strong-willed women are concerned. I’d take advantage if I were you. He asked me to tell you that if you ever have another problem with a suitor again, he’ll take care of them for you. I don’t know if he means they’ll meet their end in a dark alley one day or if he’ll destroy their reputations. I’m sure you could ask him to do either and he would. I think he’s bored in the mountain. He has been running Dwalin ragged with his shenanigans. He loves to make a point about only being a partially reformed thief.

I told Kili about your adventure with the wolves. He doesn’t believe me. Please do us a favor when you visit and bring the wolf pelts with you. I want to be able to see the look on his face when you prove him wrong. Tauriel was more inclined to believe the story but then, I’m sure she has more experience with just how fierce Women can be, having had more personal dealings with them than Kili has. Speaking of whom, he’s just entered the room and has asked me to extend his greeti (Hello Sigrid! It’s me, Kili. Did you really kill two wolves with nothing but your sword and Magnus? I think Fili’s trying to put one over on me. He’s been awfully grumpy lately. Can you do something about that?) Please ignore him. Everyone else does when he gets like this. As I have nothing else to address in this letter, I’ll send it off to you now. I hope you are well.

-F (and K!)

PS- I’m entirely serious. Fili’s too gloomy. Cheer him up a bit, would you? Ignore him. Please feed the raven. She’s a good sort but does get a bit crotchety when she’s hungry.

~*~*~

To Fili, Son of Dis, Crown Prince Under the Mountain

Fili (and I’m guessing Kili as well?)

Thank you for your letter. I am glad to know you returned to the mountain safely, despite the blizzard. Da did receive a letter from the King Under the Mountain and has agreed that closing trade routes, for the time being, is for the best. However, we will still be sending out hunters. As we have lived our lives in these conditions (out on a lake no less!), we know how to survive. Our hunters will be fine and will hopefully bring in more game. They do not travel alone, always in small parties with hunting dogs for safety against predators such as the wolves or from wandering orcs and goblins. The rest of us will stay in the city and make do with the goods we have stored away for the winter.

Da has added a curfew for our people, requesting that everyone be inside within the hour after the sun sets to keep everyone safe from the wolves. People have also started making sure their animals are inside closed buildings. Not everyone has places in their own homes but much of Dale is still unsettled. People have started housing their sheep or goats or chickens inside some of the empty buildings. We hear the wolves at night, howling and prowling outside the city. There have been no more reports of them coming in the walls but there have been a few attempts. The guards have caught them each time. Luckily, none of either of our peoples have been killed in the attacks. I think a priority for reconstruction once the weather cooperates will be to rebuild the gates. The carpenters are already working on them as much as they can with our limited resources.

Your raven has been perfectly well-behaved since she arrived. I did feed her and that seemed to make her grateful. I’ve heard the Line of Durin can speak directly to them. Is that really the case? Can you? I wonder if it’s some sort of magic or something that some people have, such as blue eyes or red hair. Da can talk to thrushes. Honestly, so can I. I couldn’t tell anyone when I was younger. The Master of Laketown didn’t like anything he deemed unnatural so Da and I had to keep it hidden, just in case. We didn’t need anything else to set us apart from others. Now though, I speak with them frequently. Tilda, Bain, and I created a little shelter for them in our garden to keep them warm during the winter. Tilda puts fresh seed out for them daily. She chatters away with them for hours when given the chance. Bain has never indicated if he can understand them or not. I think he does but I’ve never seen him talk to them but he sure seems to listen.

I was at the guard house this morning where I took a few moments to do as you asked with the dwarrow there. They are grateful to hear your words and that you would take the time to remember them in your letter. When Captain Smytheson informed them I killed two wolves and often came to train among the guard, a few of your people offered to teach me some of their fighting techniques. I know your people can be secretive so I wanted to make sure such a thing was all right before I accepted their offer. I don’t want to create any problems.

Please give Master Nori my gratitude. The few times I’ve met him he has seemed kind and clever. His offer is one I will think on. I don’t feel well, knowing some of those that have behaved poorly with me are free to do so with someone else that doesn’t have the protection that I do. Again, I thank you for Magnus and helping me train him. He is getting stronger and larger every day and is unfailingly loyal. I hope to always remain worthy of his loyalty.

It appears that courting for your people and for mine is very different. I’m afraid I don’t quite understand what some of the things you mentioned entail. Someone must fight Master Dwalin before they can court someone? And they must make a gift? Our rituals do not require such, just the girl’s parents’ approval. Gifts may be exchanged while they court but are not required. If the couple desires to be married, the girl’s dowry is discussed but that is the closest thing to a gift, other than the engagement ring. Is it very different for your people? Are you allowed to tell me or is that a dwarf secret?

I hope the snows relent enough for the midwinter festival. It feels like it has been many years since the last time we had the opportunity to celebrate it properly. Da is planning on inviting your family and the entire Company that retook the mountain as well as other local dignitaries. Will you come if the snow isn’t too bad? Magnus misses you.

Tilda wants to go outside and build snow creatures which means Bain will instigate a snowball fight. I’ll end my letter here so that I have something to write about next time. I hope you are safe and warm in your mountain.

-S

~*~*~

To Sigrid, Lady of Dale, Daughter of Bard the Dragonslayer

Sigrid (Hi! I’m here too!),

I’m glad the raven was well-behaved. Yes, I can talk to them. You could too actually. Our feathery messengers speak Westron. For some reason though, they are selective about who they will talk to (Crotchety creatures that they are). They’ll talk to Uncle Thorin, Kili, and myself. They’ve spoken to various members of the Company (Except Bifur but he doesn’t speak Westron either) but no one else that I’m aware. They can be rather irritable so we don’t spend a lot of time just talking to them. We give them shiny things and food to entice them to help us (Manipulative little scavengers).

Thank you for talking with the guards. There is no secret to our weapons training. You are more than welcome to take them up on their offer. It may be interesting to see how our style differs from yours as well as how they are similar. I look forward to seeing your progress. Perhaps a rematch from the summer festival is in order? (Fee says you’re good with a sword and I quite agree. I saw you almost best him over the summer. Ever try archery? Any other weapon?)

As for courting, yes, it does seem like our rituals are different (So glad I don’t have to deal with this. I found my One so I only have to cover the basics which is fun. Who wouldn’t want to give gifts to their intended?). Usually, a dwarf waits for a dwarrowdam to approach him. Only about one-third of all dwarrow are women so they initiate courtship so as to not waste her time by unwanted advances (Seems a bit backward to me. I’d think they’d like attention from multiple dwarrow so they know all the options they have). Usually, she presents her intended with a gift to show her mastery of a craft. If the dwarf accepts, they begin the actual courtship which consists of gift exchanges, negotiations, and time spent together (Rather tedious if you ask me). For the more old-fashioned families (Read stuffy) or the royal family (Again read stuffy), the dwarrowdam must challenge for courtship before giving her gift. She will fight a member of the family or, in the royal family’s case, a representative (Usually Dwalin in our case. He almost always stands as Uncle’s guard). This displays her determination and battle skills. More and more families are moving back to this tradition as times become more perilous and battle skills are becoming more and more important (Rather silly if you ask me. We all are trained to fight since we’re dwarflings).

It’s interesting to me that so little is needed for a courtship for you. Do you not have a say in it?

Is your midwinter festival like Yule? Or is it like your midsummer festival? Granted, part of Yule is like that with dancing and feasting (So much food. I wonder if Bilbo will help with the baking for our family), but it’s also for families and other traditions. It lasts for twelve days. I will encourage Uncle to accept your invitation when it arrives if travel to Dale is possible (Even if the snow isn’t great we may still try to come). Give Magnus an extra scratch from me. I miss him too (Me too! I miss the ball of fluff).

You were correct in assuming that Kili read your letter over my shoulder, as you can see (Hope you don’t mind but I saw my name on it). He saw your words about Tilda wanting to build snow sculptures and it sparked his own desire (It was a great idea. I love snow). He gathered as many dwarrow as he could, including me before I could finish reading your letter, the twit (Oi!), and dragged us all outside the front gates. We built snow dwarrow and other things and then had a rather large snowball fight (So epic! You should have been there. We had at least twenty people involved). Bifur and Bofur put everyone else’s sculptures to shame when they built a giant Smaug (It really was amazing). So many were impressed by it and others claimed they could do better that we’re now going to hold a competition with ten gold coins for the winner. Kili thinks there should be multiple categories as not everyone is a trained artisan (Well it’s true). He believes those with such training -carvers, masons, etc.- will have an unfair advantage over those that don’t. I reminded him that he and I both have artisan training and to stop complaining (I wasn’t complaining, just making a point). He threw a snowball at me for that comment (Got him right on the side of the head too. Snow in his ear and down his collar. Ha!). I shoved him into a drift. You should have seen him come spluttering out of it, snow clinging to his hair and what whiskers he has. Made him look as old as Balin but much more rosy-cheeked (It was horrible. Got snow down my trousers and everything. Some big brother he is, right?). Even Bilbo came out to join in the fun. He’s not a big fan of winter (He doesn’t wear shoes. No wonder he hates it. I bet his feet are always freezing in the mountain), but he is pretty good at throwing snowballs. I think he won that fight (I’m pretty sure he could take on the entire mountain and win). Then again, I remember him being a good shot with the flaming pinecones we hit the wargs and orcs with too before the Eagles came.

We hope you’re still warm in Dale. Stay safe from the wolves.

-F (and K)

(PS- Your letter really cheered up Fili! Good job!) Ignore him.

Will you help me?

A/N: I'm not entirely happy about this one, but I wanted to post it because I haven't uploaded in forever so please don't be too harsh...

Chapter 8: Heartbreak and anger

When he hears Billy Kimber come in, the first thing Tommy thinks about is Y/N. He curses himself for letting her get drinks on her own, he should have known better. This is once again proof that his life is not good for her. He can’t show Kimber that she means anything to him since it would only put her in danger, so he tells his brothers to stay seated for a moment longer while he gets his thoughts in order.

Y/N flinches as Kimber shoots at the ceiling. Her eyes widen and her fingers tighten their grip on the glasses she’s holding as she looks at the man standing at the entrance. She was feeling good today, happy even, and now she’s paralyzed with fear. When Kimber asks for the Shelby’s again, Y/N is snapped out of her fear and reminded of the fact that Tommy is near. She feels a little better when she sees him and his brothers step into the main area of the pub.

“Harry get these men a drink.” Tommy says as he steps out of the private room. His eyes scan the crowd for Y/N and when he finds her by the bar he continues speaking. “Everyone else go home.” He says and he tries to tell Y/N that she needs to get out of there with his eyes. The message seems to come across as she gives a curt nod in return before leaving the glasses she was holding on the bar and exiting with the rest of the customers. Some of the tension leaves Tommy’s shoulders as he sees her leave, now he can focus on business without having to worry about her.

Y/N comes to a halt just outside of The Garrison and watches the men head to their homes. She curses under her breath when she realizes that her coat is still inside, which means that the cigarettes she keeps in her coat pocket are inside as well and she’s craving a cigarette right now. She’s just about to head home anyway when Grace steps outside. “Oh Y/N, why haven’t you gone home yet?” Grace asks as she sees her.

“I was going to, but then I realized that my coat and cigarettes are inside.” Y/N sighs. “But who knows how long they’ll be busy, so I might as well go home now.” She adds as she sends Grace a small smile. She’s still a bit wary of the blonde.

“Do you know what that’s about?” Grace asks. She saw Y/N come in with the Shelby’s and on Tommy’s arm as well. It’s clear that Y/N is close to all three brothers, but Grace can tell that there’s something more between Y/N and Tommy even if Y/N tries to deny it. When Y/N shakes her head as an answer to her question, Grace decides to test her theory and see if her next words will make Y/N jealous. “Tommy asked me to go to the races with him. He said I should buy a nice dress.”

A flicker of hurt passes Y/N’s face, but she quickly recovers as she forces a smile on her face and turns to Grace. “Well I hope you have a nice time.” She says to the barmaid, after all she has no right to feel hurt. Tommy can go out with whoever he wants to. “You should buy a dress in a light colour, maybe a soft pink, Tommy likes that.” She almost adds, at least on me he did, but instead she smiles at Grace one more time before she walks away with pain in her heart.

It’s dark outside when there’s a knock on Y/N’s door. She frowns and places her book down on the kitchen table before she gets up and walks to the window to see who it is. She’s surprised to find Tommy looking up at her, and the confusion must have shown on her face because he holds up her coat as an explanation. She wraps her vest tightly around her to ward off the cold air as she makes her way down the stair to open the door for Tommy.

Tommy patiently waits for her to get downstairs. When he went back to the private room to get his coat after Kimber had left, he noticed Y/N’s coat was still hanging there. He knows she only has one coat and thought it best to bring it back to her. His eyes drift to the door as he hears her turn the lock and soon after Y/N’s face appears in the doorway. “I found your coat at The Garrison, figured you’d want it back.” He says as he stretches out his hand to give it to her.

“Thank you.” Y/N smiles as she reaches out to take the coat from his hand. Their hands brush as she accepts the coat and they both let out an involuntary sigh at the familiar feeling. They stare at each other for a moment and when Tommy gives her nod and is about to walk away, Y/N realizes that she doesn’t want him to go yet. “Tommy.” His name leaves her lips before she can stop herself. Her minds goes back to how nice it had been to be on his arm again today and how happy she felt as they joked and played cards. “Would you like to come in for a moment?” She asks hesitantly.

Tommy had turned back to her when she said his name and though he didn’t expect her to invite him in, he’s glad she did. He didn’t want to leave her yet, not after their happy afternoon had been interrupted. So he nods and follows her up the stairs. Once inside her small apartment his eyes take in as much as they can by the light of the few candles that are burning.

“Do you want some tea?” She asks out of habit. The only person that has been around here is Ada and that’s always the first thing she asks. The moment the words leave her mouth she realizes that Tommy most likely won’t want any tea. “I probably have rum somewhere as well.” She offers as she places her coat over the back of a chair before turning to him.

“Rum sounds good.” Tommy says and his eyes follow her movements as she opens a cupboard in search for the rum, when he suddenly remembers how she has been avoiding alcohol ever since she came back from the war. “Actually, tea it is.” He says as he takes off his coat. He drapes it over his arm as he stays in the same spot. He feels a little uncomfortable, it just feels strange to see her in such an unfamiliar environment.

Y/N furrows her eyebrows as she turns to him. Seeing him stand there with his coat over his arm and looking slightly lost in her kitchen, reminds her of the first time he came to her parents’ house. He seems to feel just as out of place now as he did back then. “Tea?” She questions and Tommy nods in response. “Do you want to impress me?” She asks with a small smile on her lips as she puts the kettle on. He had wanted to impress her parents all those years ago as well, and her mother had been sold very easily though her father always remained wary of Tommy.

When Tommy notices the somewhat teasing tone of her voice, he suddenly realizes how similar this situation is as well. “Yes.” He responds, because he tried to impress her and her parents back then and to be honest, he’s still trying to impress her right now. “And do you have a biscuit?” He asks with a slight smile on his face as he recalls the homemade biscuits Y/N’s mother had made that afternoon.

Y/N lets out a soft laugh as she looks at him and it warms his heart to see her like that. “I’m afraid not.” She says and they look at each other for a while, both enjoying the lightness of the moment and the smile on the other’s face. “You can sit down you know.” Y/N says as she gestures to a chair before she turns to the cupboards to get two cups.

“Right.” Tommy nods to himself and drapes his coat over the back of a chair before taking a seat. He watches Y/N move around the kitchen to prepare the tea as he tries to think of the right way to bring up what Polly told him. “Thank you.” He mutters absentmindedly as she places a cup in front of him.

Y/N raises her eyebrows as Tommy seems to be deep in thought. “What’s on your mind?” She asks as she takes a seat opposite him with her own cup held in her hands. It must be something serious she thinks as she sees the look on his face.

Tommy sighs and looks at her. “When I came home yesterday, Polly was very upset.” He starts and he sees her tense up slightly as she lowers her eyes to the cup of tea in her hands. “She said something had happened to you and that none of us were there.” He goes on, he can’t stop now and he’s already decided that he’s not going home until she tells him what happened to her. “She said it wasn’t her story to tell, but that you needed me.” He says as he places his cup on the table and leans forward. “I’m here, Y/N, and I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.”

Y/N’s hands are shaking slightly as she realizes that she won’t be able to get out of this; she will have to tell Tommy and then she’ll lose him forever. “You won’t be here anymore if I tell you.” She breaths out as she squeezes her eyes shut.

“I’ll always be here.” Tommy instantly responds. It’s true; nothing could ever make him leave her alone. They may not be together anymore, but Tommy has never left her. He has always checked up on her and made sure she knew he was still there if she needed someone.

Y/N shakes her head and has to put her cup on the table because her hands are shaking too much. She gasps and her eyes fly open when Tommy takes the opportunity to take her hands in his. Her eyes fill with tears as she sees the look on his face. She can clearly see the concern, but what causes the tears to fall is the love she can see in his eyes. “I’m sorry.” She manages to get out before a sob escapes her. “I’m so sorry.”

Tommy can feels his heart break as he watches her and he hates that this conversation is making her feel like this, but he needs to know what happened. “Please, Y/N.” He whispers as he feels his own eyes get watery.

Y/N takes a few deep breaths to calm down and get herself under control as she tries to ignore the feeling of Tommy’s thumbs as they rub soothing circles on her skin; when she tells him he’ll never touch her again. When she thinks that she has calmed down enough to speak, she starts. “There was a doctor.” She squeezes her eyes shut again. “In France.” She adds as the memories once again resurface. “He liked me.”

Tommy clenches his jaw as his mind is already coming up with scenario’s. She was still his girl back then and the thought of another man making advances already has his blood boiling, but he has to hear the whole story.

“We worked at the same field hospital, so I saw him quite a lot.” Y/N goes on. “He asked me if I had someone. I told him I did. I told him there was a soldier out there that needed to come home in one piece or I’d lose my mind, and that that was the reason I became a nurse at the front; to help someone else’s soldier come home in one piece.” Now that she has started the words seem to come on their own accord and she shares even more with Tommy then she did with Polly. “He kept flirting with me and I kept turning him down. One night there was some sort of party and he got drunk.” Her hands ball into fists in Tommy’s loose hold as she gets to the worst part of the story. “He found me when I was alone in the storage room. He pushed me against some crates and he, he.” She can’t get the words out as she shakes her head again in a futile attempt to get rid of the images behind her eyelids. “I tried to push him off, but he was too strong.” She starts to cry again.

Tommy’s hands fall away from hers as he leans back in his chair. He had an idea of what happened when she said the doctor liked her, but to actually hear her say it is both heartbreaking and infuriating. Part of him wants to cry, whilst another part of him wants to find that man and make him pay for what he did.

Y/N is too lost in her memories to notice Tommy’s inner battle. “A few weeks later I realized that I was pregnant.” She says as she manages to get control over her breathing again, and Tommy’s hands grip the side of the table so hard his knuckles turn white. “I-I got rid of it myself. There was so much blood.” She whispers as fresh tears roll down her face.

Tommy has no idea what to do. He does know that he can’t remain seated for another second and his chair scrapes over the floor as he stands up. He covers his face with his hands as he walks to a corner of the room and stands with his back to Y/N.

The scraping of Tommy’s chair causes the images behind Y/N’s eyes to fade and she slowly comes back to the kitchen. She blinks rapidly to get rid of the tears and panic takes over when she sees that Tommy is no longer sitting in front of her. Her eyes franticly search the room and find him in a corner with his back facing her; he can’t even stand to look at her anymore. “I didn’t want him to do it, Tommy, I swear.” She cries. “You have to believe.” She adds as she desperately wishes he won’t hate her for this.

When Tommy hears the desperation in her voice his inner battle stops and only one thing remains; Y/N. His own sadness and anger don’t matter right now; she needs him. “I believe you.” He tells her as he turns around and he can see the surprise on her face. “I believe you.” He repeats as he walks towards her and crouches down in front of her chair. “And I’m still here.” He assures her as he takes her hands in his once again.

Tags: @thinkingsofamadwoman @giftofdreams @mcrmarvelloki @beyond-the-ashes

Dulled Armor

Summary: 

We all wear imaginary armor to try and keep us safe, but sometimes armor can dull, can become brittle, can fail.

Sometimes we need something extra to keep us safe.

Prompto's armor has finally failed him... but perhaps he can find safety with the help of a Shield.

A/n: This was for a prompt from @bgn846 who was looking for a fwump filled Promptio fic and I promise that no Prompto’s were harmed in the making of it. You can also read at AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17890127

Word count: 3531

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“So what are your thoughts on that Argentum kid?  I know I’ve got a few and I’ll tell you right now, they all circle around him being a mess.”

“Kids got no skill, no stamina.  I don’t know why he’s even training with us.  He’s literally a liability.”

“It’s what happens when you’re buddy-buddy with the Crowned Prince apparently.  He’ll probably get a free pass even if he never hits a target.”

“Pfft.  Can you imagine being that useless in combat?  They’ll have to pack enough phoenix downs for two full grown behemoth’s to carry in whatever group he goes into!”

“Oh gods, what a waste.”

“Okay, enough talk.  Let’s get out there before Cor comes looking for our asses.”

Prompto had heard the whole conversation.  He’d just gone into the locker room to change into his crown issued sweats when the other trainee’s had come in.

His own locker had been a few rows back so they didn’t know he was there, though judging from their words, they probably would’ve still made their issue’s known if they had seen him regardless.

A knot had already been building up in his stomach. These last few weeks had really started to get to him and he knew they shouldn’t have, but a person could only take so much.  

A few choice classmates who had had him in their sights since elementary really seemed to be coming into their own now and had finally unlocked the choice words to set him on edge.

Klutz.

Kiss ass.

Nif.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to this by now, but eventually all armor gets worn down and their words had finally started to find their mark.

And it seemed like he couldn’t catch a break at work either.  Customer service was bad on a good day, but he didn’t know if the recent clientele had just been introduced to civilization, but they were all just downright mean.  Making comments about how he looked, how he would screw up on the register, get him frazzled enough to screw up on the register.

Now here he was, huddled up in a corner of the locker room, holding his recently discarded shirt in hand and listening to men older than himself, men who were training to protect the crown, judge him just as harshly as his classmates and strangers on the street felt they had a right to.

He knew he wasn’t catching onto the training as quick as the other recruits.  He knew that he could be a klutz and make mistakes, but the words from his classmates, from coworkers, bosses and now people he was supposed to consider comrades… they were all starting to get past that worn down armor he wore on a daily basis and he could feel the ache in his chest that he’d held at bay for so long, slowly starting to unfurl and threaten to swallow him whole.

As he stood there in the locker room he could hear the other Crownsguard trainee’s already becoming boisterous outside and he tried to swallow back the gross feeling rising in his chest.

He tried so hard, but it was never going to be good enough for any of them.

He’d always be the klutz, the failure, the Nif, the punchline.

Gods, he needed to get out of here.

Tugging his shirt back on he grabbed his bag from his locker and made a beeline for the door, his mind so frazzled from everything over the course of the past few weeks that he didn’t even realize that another body was walking into the room until he was practically shoulder checked by the guy, his bag falling off his shoulder and his items scattering everywhere.

Cursing himself he ducked down quickly, scrambling to pick everything up lest this person be like some of the kids at school who found it the height of hilarity to send his items further in either direction with a little kick.

“S-sorry!  Sorry!  I.. I didn’t m-mean....,” he spluttered, in his already worked up state Prompto didn’t even bother to hang around to see who he’d bumped into, not ready to hear more jeers or snide comments about another mistake.  As soon as he thought he’d picked up the last item he was off, his pace only picking up as he heard a ‘Hey!’ coming from the body he’d run into and before he knew it he was running.

Gods, Cor was going to skin him alive for flaking out on training.  But he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus.  Not with all of this… stuff floating around in his head and his chest and making him feel too tight and cramped in his own skin.

Before he knew it he found himself well out of the Citadel, his legs carrying him to the only safe place his mind could conjure up.

Noct’s apartment.

It felt like a blur to him as he dashed to the familiar building, that growing unease and fear in his chest starting to bubble and coagulate into something he wasn’t sure he could handle.  He was no stranger to panic attacks, but it’d been so long since he’d had one.

Obviously fate found he was due.

He made his way inside the building, hoping that he’d find Noct here or even Iggy.  He wasn’t sure what he was looking for.  Comfort?  Someone to talk to?  Gods knew he didn’t get that at home and he felt that tight feeling growing all the tighter as he made his way up to Nocts apartment, the elevator easily starting to feel just as claustrophobic to him as everything else.

Before long he was standing in front of the apartment door, knocking once, then twice, then finding himself knocking more and more, faster and faster as the panic felt like it was starting to claw its way up his chest and throat, his breathing erratic as his own thoughts began to turn against him.

Maybe Noct had heard all the things people were saying?

Maybe this was his way of telling him to leave him alone?

What if he found out how much of a failure he was?

Found out how bad he was at trying to do the simplest things?

Gods knew how pathetic he must look right now then trying to get into a place that he was obviously not welcome to anymore!

“Hey!”

Prompto instantly froze, his heart hammering in his chest as his adrenaline fueled panic attack continued to control his every thought.  Every harsh word and comment he’d heard felt like it was bubbling and doubling in his chest like a daemon forming and getting ready to spout forth.

“Jesus, Prom… you’re white as a sheet,” the voice spoke, though Prompto found himself unable to look at the speaker, his eyes still transfixed on the door, afraid to look away as if all of this would disappear and he would be lost to those horrible thoughts that threatened to take him under.

“Prom?  Prompto, I need you to take a few deep breaths for me okay?” the voice spoke again, a deep rumble of a voice that reminded Prompto of comfort even in the throes of his chaotic mind.

He tried to take in a breath, but everything felt constricted and it came out sounding more like a gasp.

“Okay.. okay, easy.  One more deep breath, okay?” the voice said gently and Prompto wanted so badly to at least do this one thing right!

Trembling he took a breath a little more deeply than the last… then another… and another and soon he found the constriction in his chest loosening slightly.

“There… keep doing that for me.  We’re going to go inside.  I’m gonna put my hand on your back to guide you, just… keep taking those deep breaths,” the voice instructed carefully and Prompto continued to try and follow this one task.  He continued to take the deep breaths, soon finding a warm pressure against his back as he heard the jingling of a key in a lock.

He couldn’t remember when he’d closed his eyes when he’d been so afraid to look away before, but he let himself be guided by the presence that had found him in the hall and soon he was stepping into the coolness of Nocts apartment.

Continuing to take in those breaths he felt himself slowly pressed down to sit on a familiar couch.

“You’re doin’ great, Prom.  I’ll be right back,” the voice murmured before he heard footsteps moving away.

Prompto instantly brought his legs up to his chest wrapping his arms around them as he hid his face in his knees.

As the panic induced fog slowly started to clear from his mind he was able to put the voice with the owner.

Gladio.

Fantastic.

Not only was he useless, but he’d just managed to have a panic attack in the middle of the hallway in front of one of the most amazing, not clumsy, strong people in the world!

It’s one thing to have a panic attack by yourself, but to breakdown in front of your crush?

The Astrals must really hate him.

He felt a weight settle down beside him, jostling him slightly and the scent of something warm and sweet filled the air.

“It’s not as good as Iggy’s, but… I thought some tea might help,” Gladio offered gently, setting the cup on the coffee table in front of them.

“Thanks,” Prompto croaked, finally feeling calm enough to glance up and over to the Shield sitting next to him.

Gladio looked the epitome of concerned and caring and Prompto hated to think it was being wasted on him of all people.

“No problem,” Gladio offered gently, a little smile appearing for a second before the concern was back.  “But… you care to tell me why you ran from the locker room like a startled baby chocobo?  You nearly knocked me over with how hard you ran into me and that’s sayin’ something.”

Prompto instantly felt his face flush up with mortification.

“I did not mean to do that!  I-I swear!” he said miserably as he hid his face back against his knees and wondered if there was a way to redo a day, a week, a month so that none of this started to begin with.

“I mean… that’s good to know, but… what had you runnin’ in the first place?” Gladio asked carefully, sitting back.  “You got quite a pace on you.  I almost lost track of you twice.  When we collided and I sent shit everywhere you forgot this, but before I could give it back you were already hightailing it out of there.”

Prompto glanced back up to see Gladio holding one of his camera lenses.

“O-oh… I… thanks,” he said as Gladio set it on the table in front of them.  “That’s… that’s my macro lens.  The one I use for… after training I… sometimes after training to calm down I’ll go do some photos in the garden.  It’s… quiet there.  It’s a good lens for close ups of… plants… flowers… little things.  Sorry.”

Gladio looked at him curiously.

“What’re you apologizing for?” he asked honestly.

“I’m sure you don’t care about what lenses I have.  And… I’m sorry for bumping into you and making you chase me down and for… for having to look after me because I can’t even do that right,” he rambled, his voice feeling tight and trembling in a way he absolutely hated.

He heard a sigh beside him and flinched as if he was waiting for a barrage of agreements of his uselessness.

“Ya know… I wouldn’t chase down just anyone halfway across the city to give them back a camera lens,” Gladio tried, offering a little smile as Prompto refused to meet his gaze.  “And… I’m always happy to hear you talk about your photography.  I’ve seen what you can do and you’re amazing at it.”

A small flicker of warmth bloomed in his chest as he heard that, like the barest light of a match in a dark cavern.  Prompto was almost positive that he must’ve misheard as he turned his eyes on the soft amber ones looking back at him.

“You… you think it’s amazing?” he asked quietly and Gladio gave a hum of thought.

“Well… yeah.  Though it’s only amazing because you’re amazing.  You’re focused and dedicated.  You’ve got a great eye for detail and a great patience and know just the right moment to take the shot.”

Suddenly, Prompto realized that Gladio wasn’t just talking about photography anymore.  He watched as Gladio looked just a little awkward and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Okay, so… maybe I overheard what those guys were sayin’ about you, Prom.  And you should know that they’re idiots.  They couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn if they were standing two feet from it,” Gladio said simply though Prompto instantly shook his head.

“It’s not just them though.  I hear it everywhere.  I’m a klutz.  I can barely walk without tripping or… gods running into someone.  I’m fidgety, I’m different, I’m only where I am because I was lucky enough to become friends with Noct, but sooner or later he’s going to see how useless I am and… and you guys will leave me behind because that’ what I deserve because who would want to be friends with a li-liability and… I.. I just..,” his breathing had started to pick up again and before he could think he found two large arms wrapping around him, a warmth seeping into him that he wasn’t expecting as a feeling of safety settled in his bones.

“Listen to me, Prom.  You are… probably the most selfless, giving, just… good person I’ve ever met,” Gladio whispered as he felt Prompto turn slightly in his hold and hide his face against his chest.  If he felt a warmth start to seep there and heard a quiet sniffle he didn’t say anything, merely held the younger man closer as one broad hand soothed over his back.

“So what if you trip up sometimes?  Even if you do you are most certainly not a liability.  Have you ever seen Princess practice?  I swear I think he doesn’t know his right from his left half the time.  And you think I picked up a broadsword one day and was as good as my dad?  Hell I still get my ass handed to me every day compliments of him and Cor.  Sometimes things take time to learn.  I know you have the patience and drive to do it, but you shouldn’t let others dictate how quickly you can learn and excel.”

Prompto gave another quiet sniffle, knowing full well that there was no way he could speak right now without making a bigger fool of himself.

Gladio continued to hold him, continuing to rub those soothing circles against the others back.

“If it makes any difference… I don’t think you’re a klutz, just excitable.  I don’t think you’re fidgety, just energetic  And since when did being different become a bad thing?  And if you think any of us would just up and leave you, then we’ve obviously not done a good enough job showing you just how important you are to us.  I can’t remember Noct ever laughing or smiling as much as he has since he became friends with you.  Iggy adores you, even if you can’t tell, but have you ever noticed that he always makes your favourites when you’re over?  And…. I know that you’ve definitely added a bit of brightness to my life too.  Why else do you think we call you the sunshine child?” he asked lightly, looking down at Prompto as he felt the gunner taking in a few shaky, but slightly calmer breaths.

Looking up at Gladio, eyes slightly puffy and red, Prompto tried to read any dishonesty there or any sign that this was a cruel joke and was only met with a warmth that made the bubbling dark feelings in his chest feel like they were slowly withering away.

“You mean that?” he whispered and Gladio chuckled with a nod.

“Definitely.  Cross my heart and everything,” he said lightly, leaning back a little as Prompto brought a hand up to wipe at the wetness on his freckled cheeks.

“S-sorry for… drenching your shirt, big guy,” he said, though his voice definitely felt a bit stronger now.

“Nothin’ to apologize for.  Sometimes you need to let it all out so you can start fresh,” Gladio said gently as he leaned back against the sofa.

Prompto gave a nod at that, biting his lower lip.  “It all just gets to be a bit much, ya know?  I mean… it feels like I have to wear this imaginary armor all day and… it finally wasn’t strong enough to keep out the things that could hurt me.”

Gladio’s expression softened at that and he cleared his throat.  “Well… I mean… I am a Shield.  If you ever need a little extra armor… I’d be more than happy to supply it.”

Prompto looked up from where he’d been picking at his wristband to see a slight flush over the others cheeks, his heart giving an odd little flutter in his chest.

Gods he was probably having a heart attack.  That seemed to be his luck today.

“Really?” he asked tentatively and the smile he got in return from Gladio put all of his fears to rest.

“Really, Sunshine.  Like I said… I wouldn’t chase just anybody down across the city to make sure they were okay,” the Shield offered lightly and an honest to gods smile finally appeared over Prompto’s features.

“Sunshine?” he asked softly, a little blush slowly creeping up his cheeks as well now as he felt the warmth from the Shield slowly pushing back those dark gurgling thoughts that had threatened to consume him and replace it with something lighter, warmer and safer.

“What?  Would you prefer bright eyes?” Gladio asked teasingly as he gave Prompto a little poke to the side, making the gunner squeak and swat at his hand ineffectually.

“Oh?  What’s this?  I think there’s still a few weakspots in your armor… like here… and here… and oh this must be a really bad spot,” Gladio teased as he his fingers found Prompto’s sides and pulled him closer, tickling the poor gunner into a giggling mess.

“Nonon-ahaha!  You-You were jahahast be… gah!  J-Just beheheheing so swehehehet!” Prompto squealed as the tickling fingers moved to his stomach, making him squirm farther into Gladio’s side to try and escape in the worst possible way.

“Hey, if I’m gonna be your Shield I gotta make sure I know what spots I gotta protect,” Gladio teased as Prompto snorted when his fingers started to squeeze up his ribs and the poor guy tried to slide off the sofa to escape.

“Y-You… yehehehAH!  You fahaOUnd ThehehHEm!” he laughed ridiculously before finding himself swept up in those strong arms once more and hugged close.

His laughter soon quieted down into little giggles as he felt a chaste kiss to his temple.

“You also looked like you could use a little laugh,” Gladio murmured softly as Prompto all but melted against him, nuzzling his cheek against his shoulder.

Well… this had definitely been a rollercoaster of emotions and he felt absolutely drained if lighter and a small yawn escaped.

“I think Cor would understand if you wanted to miss out on training today, Prom.  He may be a hard ass, but he’s not actively looking to work you to death,” Gladio offered softly as he felt Prompto all but nestling into him.

“M’okay… just… like… five minutes?” he asked as Gladio carefully shifted them, laying himself out on the sofa and letting Prompto sprawl out on his chest.  He let his hands continue to soothe along his back.

“Hey, Gladio?” Prompto mumbled, half asleep already, but fighting to get a few more things settled.  “D’this mean you like me?  Like… like me like me?”

Gladio chuckled softly and nodded, realizing a moment later that Prompto’s eyes were closed and he couldn’t see.

“Yeah, Sunshine.  I like you like you,” he murmured, getting a soft hum from the gunner in return.

“Good.  Cos I do to… like you… like you,” he whispered, his breathing slowly starting to even out as Gladio reached over, pulling a blanket from the back of the sofa and covering them both.

“Good.  Now… get some rest, Prom.  And don’t worry… I’ll keep you safe,” Gladio whispered gently.

And for the first time in what felt like years, Prompto honest to gods believed it.  He would be safe.  He may be a klutz, he may make mistakes and falter, but… he had people who cared about him and would never leave him behind even if he stumbled.

There may be other days where his armor would fail him, where it’d grow weak and the barbs could get through, but now… he had a Shield there to protect him and keep him safe.

Perhaps the Astrals didn’t hate him that much after all.

Three Old Men Hunt Ghosts

So, @aceofintuition posted some doodles of various AU’s they have involving their and @pipesflowforeverandever ‘s Joey’s. So I decided to write the Buzzfeed Unsolved one. 

The man colloquially known as ‘Snowy’ Drew did not believe in ghosts. Not in the slightest. He liked things he could touch, things he could see. He liked things that were tangible. Ghosts didn’t really fall into that category. Unfortunately for him, the man who had dubbed himself his ‘best friend’ very much believed in ghosts. And a lot of other things that Snowy didn’t really put any stock in. ‘Gingie’ Drew was almost the polar opposite of Snowy. He was fair skinned where Snowy was dark, short where Snowy was tall, whimsical and fanciful where Snowy was practical and rational. Technically speaking, they shouldn’t have been friends. And, at first, they hadn’t been. They’d met at an animation conference. Both of them were in the animation industry and had that in common at the very least, as well as the fact that they were both named Joey Drew. At first, their opposing personalities had caused them to hate each other. Until, that is, they’d discovered one other thing they had in common. Their love for their children. As soon as they both found out the other had a child and would do anything for them, their hatred toward each other cooled, and they’d quickly become quite close friends. 

But that was in the past. Now it was the middle of the night and Snowy was at the wheel of his car, Gingie in the passenger seat, headed to some random location that Gingie was convinced was haunted. In the backseat was Norman Polk, who was along to record the whole experience. See, Gingie had gotten the idea that it would be fun to start a web series. His daughter, adopted daughter really, liked watching videos on YouTube and had come across a web series where two men discussed supernatural occurrences and true crime. Gingie had thought this would be a marvelous idea. Snowy didn’t mind the idea. He found true crime to be rather interesting, and it was pretty entertaining to watch Gingie get excited about the supernatural. 

“You just enjoy all the compliments you get in the comments.” Ana had said. She wasn’t wrong. Snowy didn’t mind all the comments about his attractiveness, as well as the ones about how cute Joy was. She’d been on a few episodes, but only the ones where he thought the content was appropriate. Gingie had brought on his granddaughter, Linda, a few times as well. Again, only when the content was appropriate, because Marvin had given Gingie a thorough talking to about what exactly Linda would be exposed to. 

“Gingersnap, remind me why we have to do this in the middle of the night,” Snowy said as they drove down the dirt path to the cave. Because of course it was a cave. 

“Well, you wouldn’t expect a ghost to just appear in the middle of the day, would you?” Gingie replied. How on Earth did he have this much energy?! It was almost midnight and they’d both gotten up at 6 that morning!

“It’s a cave. It’s always dark in a cave. They can’t tell the difference.” 

“Well, yes...” Gingie hesitated a bit. “But the time is important. The supernatural is stronger during the witching hour.” Snowy resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Yeah, sure, that checks out.” He muttered. 

A few minutes later they pulled up outside of the cave. They’d gotten permission to film in the cave, but there was still a guide from the park service waiting for them. The cave was, for the most part, undeveloped and thus rather dangerous. 

“Hello.” The park service employee waved wearily. They were a tired dark skinned 20-something dressed in a park uniform. Judging from the circles under their eyes, they were probably a pretty new hire. 

“Ah! You must be Ramirez!” Gingie scrambled out of the car, bounding up to shake the guide’s hand. They couldn’t help but smile a little at Gingie’s enthusiasm. 

“Um, yeah. That’s me.” They replied. “Are you guys the two Drew’s?” 

“Indeed we are!” Gingie grinned, shaking their hand excitedly. “I must say, it’s a pleasure to be here! Thank you so much for letting us film in the cavern!”

“Sorry we had to drag you out here so late,” Snowy said, walking up behind Gingie.

“It’s fine,” Ramirez assured him. “I’m used to being up this late anyway.”

“You in college?” Snowy asked as Gingie peered past their guide. 

“Yeah. I’m in my last year.” Ramirez nodded. “I’m working here part-time right now, but eventually I want this to be my permanent job.”

“That’s a rather noble ambition.” Gingie turned his attention back to Ramirez. “It’s very important to take care of the beauty that Mother Nature has given to us.”

“You really think so?” Ramirez smiled shyly. “My aunt told me it was stupid. But...my family doesn’t really talk to her anymore anyway.”

“Well, that was rude of her.” Gingie’s smile quickly turned to a frown. He soon launched into a motivational speech for the young park employee. Snowy went back to the car to check on Norman. The projectionist was unloading the camera and sound equipment from the trunk, doing quick tests to make sure everything was working the way it should. 

“Everything working?” Snowy asked, leaning down. 

“So far.” Norman nodded, picking up the main camera and hefting it onto his shoulder. 

“Thanks for sticking with us for this long,” Snowy said after a moment of silence. “We both really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem,” Norman replied. “If you both die horrific deaths, someone needs to record it.” 

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Snowy rolled his eyes. But Norman didn’t laugh. Snowy turned back to look at him. Norman just smiled at him. Snowy knew Norman was, in all likelihood, joking. But you could never quite tell with him.  

“Let’s, uh, let’s just go.” Snowy walked quickly towards the mouth of the cave. Norman hummed to himself, following. Gingie was still talking with Ramirez when Snowy and Norman got to them, both looking rather excited. 

“C’mon, Gingersnap.” Snowy grabbed Gingie by his collar. “Henry’ll have a heart attack if you suddenly adopt another kid.”

“I-I’m not trying to adopt them!” Gingie sputtered, his cheeks turning red. “We were simply talking!”

“Sure you were,” Snowy said. “That’s what you said with Francine too, and now you’re practically her dad.”

“You do have a tendency to adopt young people you like.” Norman agreed. 

“Not you too, Mr. Polk!” Gingie wailed. After a moment or two of bickering, they separated and got ready to do their intro. 

“Hello everyone!” Gingie waved at the camera. “This week, we’re investigating Echo Cave in our continuing quest to answer the question, are ghosts real? I must say, I’m rather excited!” 

“I’m just hoping I don’t get shit on by a bat.” Snowy shrugged. 

“In any case, let’s go!” Gingie beamed and started into the cave, followed by Snowy and Norman. Ramirez snorted a little as they followed the trio of men. They hadn’t been sure what to expect when their boss had told them they’d be escorting the hosts of a web series through the cave but it certainly hadn’t been this. Still, they were certainly interesting men.

As they got deeper, the light began to fade, prompting them to pull out their flashlights. Norman had a head mounted one, while the other three just had flashlights they were carrying. 

“So, what can you tell us about this place?” Snowy asked, looking back at them. Norman had begun recording by this point. 

“Well, it’s a naturally formed cave,” Ramirez said, shifting into tour guide mode. “For the most part, it’s just home to animals. Black bears, raccoons, squirrels. Things like that. Humans didn’t usually come here. But...” They paused for dramatic effect, shining their flashlight under their face. “There was one significant incident where humans visited this cave. It happened in the winter of 1856. Two men, explorers, were driven into this cave by a blizzard. They were ill prepared for the harsh conditions, and their supplies soon ran out.” Gingie was walking alongside them, watching with an eager look. Ramirez started to grin, but quickly cleared their throat and put on a serious expression. 

“They were in this cave for months, by themselves, trapped by the snow. Eventually, tensions began to rise. The two men began to turn on each other, convinced the other was out to get them. In the end, their hostilities boiled over, and they fought. Only one came out alive.” They lowered their voice. “And in the darkness of the cave, standing over the body of his friend, the victor’s hunger made itself known once more. It had been so long since he’d eaten. When other explorers found the cave, they found both men dead. The first from the fight, with great chunks of him ripped away. The second...from suicide. It appeared he was unable to cope with what he’d done. But no one was ever sure. They say his ghost haunts these caves, begging for forgiveness. Or maybe...Maybe he’s taken a liking to the taste of humans.” They leaned back, letting the words settle. 

“Oh, bravo!” Gingie tucked his flashlight under his arm so that he could applaud them. “That was wonderful!”

“You sure know how to tell a story, kid.” Snowy chuckled. 

“I didn’t go too far?” Ramirez smiled nervously. 

“No no! Not at all!” Gingie said. “It was very engaging!”

“Ghost stories aren’t really my thing, but you seemed like you were enjoying yourself, so I liked it.” Snowy agreed. Ramirez felt a bit of color rising to their cheeks at this praise.

“In all seriousness,” they cleared their throat. “Two explorers did get trapped in here by a blizzard, one killed the other, probably ate some of the other to survive, and then died. And people do say they see a man in 19th-century clothing wandering around here.”

“Which is why you wanted to come here.” Snowy looked pointedly at Gingie, who smiled sheepishly.

“I was hoping I could help but his soul to rest.” He admitted. “I brought supplies as well!” He began digging around in the bag he’d brought.

“We better not get possessed,” Snowy muttered. “Ana would kill me if I let myself be possessed.”

“My dear Snowy!” Gingie let out a horrified gasp. “I would never let something like that happen to you!”

“Do they get in situations where they might be possessed often?” Ramirez whispered to Norman, who snorted quietly. 

“More than you’d think.”

It didn’t take long before they’d reached the furthest point they could safely go. Ramirez told them when that was, gently tugging them back. 

“Alright!” Gingie brightened. “Well, now that we’re here, would you mind terribly if I brought out the spirit box?”

“I hate the spirit box.” Snowy wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“I know you do.” Gingie smiled apologetically as he pulled out the device. “So I won’t run it for too long.” Ramirez was about to ask why Snowy hated the spirit box. Then Gingie turned it on. And after a moment or two, they understood. The spirit box was loud and the constant switching of channels produced an irritating static. 

“Is there anyone here with us?” Gingie asked, his expression suddenly becoming serious. They all sat there in silence as the box kept switching channels. 

“If there is anyone here with us, could you tell me your name?”

Still nothing, but Ramirez could have sworn the air around them had gotten colder. They could see their breath in front of their face.

“Our guide has informed us that you were trapped here with your friend.” Gingie continued, his gaze firmly on the spirit box. “And that you killed your friend. Do you have anything to say about that?”

For a moment, nothing happened. Then a voice came out of the spirit box. 

“...erved it...”

“Could you repeat that?” Gingie said calmly. 

“He...deserved it...” A chill ran down Ramirez’s spine at the voice coming from the box. It was low, raspy, and full of rage. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be!

“That’s hardly a fair thing to say.” Gingie shook his head, a disappointed look on his face. 

"Pretty sure his only mistake was getting stuck here with you,” Snowy said with a snide smile. The air around them was only growing colder. Ramirez was beginning to shiver now, rubbing their hands on their arms. 

“You know...nothing...” The voice from the box growled. Ramirez could almost make out the figure of a man over the box. A haggard looking man dressed in 19-century clothing.

“Oh, I think I know quite a bit.” Gingie smiled sweetly. “Such as how to get rid of you.” The figure of the man solidified and went for Gingie’s throat. Ramirez shrieked and stumbled back, dropping their flashlight. All the lights in the cave went out, leaving Ramirez in darkness. They could hear the sounds of a struggle, as well as Snowy cursing. When the lights came back on, Norman was standing over them, holding out a hand to the park employee. 

“You alright?” He rumbled.

“I...There was a ghost.” They stammered as Norman pulled them to their feet. “There was a man! And he talked to Mr. Drew and- and-” 

“A ghost?” Gingie looked around wildly. “Where?” He was still in the same position he’d been before the lights had gone out. Snowy was in the same place as well, yawning and stretching. 

“I...I thought...” Ramirez stared at the space where they’d seen the ghost. They had seen a ghost, hadn’t they? It had to have been there. 

“You alright, kid?” Snowy asked. “You took a bit of a tumble there when the lights went out.” 

“I...I’m okay.” Ramirez nodded slowly. Maybe...Maybe they were just working too hard. 

Gingie and Snowy messed around in the cave for a little longer before they had all the footage they needed and Ramirez led them back out of the cavern. The men thanked them for their time and left in Snowy’s car. When the video eventually went up, Ramirez watched it and found no evidence of the ghost they thought they’d seen. Maybe they’d been imagining things. But something about Gingie’s smile as he and Snowy had left made them wonder. Oh well. They had other things to worry about. 

Find the Path P2

How many times has Alle taken me through the woods of her childhood home? It’s almost every talk devolved into us going to into these woods and walking side by side. Most of the time we would talk, other times, it was like this. The silence of two hunters as he moved through the summer forest. I never noticed how soft the ground felt here. So much of where I have been living has been hard volcanic soil. It’s barely good enough for the crops the experiments keep, it’s not good enough to enjoy walking on it.

I want to know where we are going, but Alle has asked me the one thing all couples have to at some point. I have to trust her. As such, I know out silence is because she is holding back much of what she wants to say. I can see it in how purposefully she walks. No one has ever seen her move like this. I take that back, her family of demons have probably has seen her like this. But I doubt any of the Worgen or her citizens would be comfortable with seeing her ready to do anything she could to protect what she has claimed.

It’s best if I add this determination to the list of beautiful things about my mate.

I’m about to ask her what we are going to do when I see it. Alle has mentioned her families’ standing stones. How they are the most important thing to her clan. I don’t fully understand why, but in a moment she walks with out fear through the stones and stops, turning around and holding a hand out to me. “Take my hand and walk through.”

If I had a heart that could beat. It would be racing. Alle had mentioned this, that there is a way to go to where she had been for forty years. That there was a place my king couldn’t touch her, even if he tried. I always wanted to see it, but right now, I need to keep her safe.

“You don’t want me to cross the stones.” I said stopping just outside of them. “Whatever I see, you know what will happen.”

Alle doesn’t blink, and even with my caring warning she didn’t even stop. Her hand stayed outstretched to me. “Trust me.”

I am not a trusting man. As a living elf I lived in a harsh political climate. People backstabbing and sleeping with one another was like the normal morning cup of coffee. It was ingrained in me. Becoming undead it only heightened the dislike I have for that word. The few I thought I could trust either turned on me or protected those who turned on me. It’s only because I understand the miscommunication between my son and I that I am accepting he betrayed me. I am alright with Alle hiding him. I have to trust she has my best interest in mind. But I wasn't to make sure I have her best interest in mind.

Still I finally reach out and take that ever warm but rough hand. For a lady, she had the hands of a fighter. I don’t mean that in the way men try to buff up their women. No, those girls play with swords. I am in the presence of a true survivor and a Lady who wears the normal human skin so no one knows she’s a monster.

Crossing through to the center of the stones, the strangest sensation filled me. It was like I was spinning but I know I’m still. Even my hyper aware mind cannot fathom what I am experiencing and in a moment I look from one side of the circle to the other. On one side is the summery Silverpine Forest. The other, I am greeted with something I have only seen in dark dreamings. 

“Cross over to the other side.” Alle instructed again, but this time she wasn’t quiet, there was a more firm sound in her voice. “Do not go further until I take your hand again. Where we are going, there are bigger monsters than us.”

Bigger monsters than us? I have seen that Beast form she has, it’s rather beautiful in it’s monstrous nature. I always thought that she must be the apex predator here. It seems I have misjudged my Alle.

Once I cross to the other side, I feel it, there is a strangeness all around me, but when I have fully crossed over, I can feel things I had repressed for too long. I’m angry, furious even. The collar that is on my mind is suddenly gone and I’m allowed to feel like I haven’t felt since Quin faked his death. Turning suddenly I see Alle cross over and look at me. Those large blue eyes don’t blink, but they are filled with all the concern she can offer me. 

“You can speak freely, but we need to go somewhere safe first.” She didn’t ask to take my hand, she just did and started to lead me through the wood. I don’t know where we are going, and I don’t know exactly where we are. From all the talks Alle and I have had, I think, this might be The Forest. 

Ever since she told me about this place, I painted it as a realm that I never thought she would trust me enough to enter. It’s not exactly what I expect. I don't know what I was expecting. Alle did her best to warn me it was, not Azeroth. I can feel magic all around me, I can hear creatures both running away and stopping dead in their tracks. Some, the ones who have stopped sound like they are being hunted by some great creature. But the only creature I can think of is Alle and I.

Alle doesn’t stop though. It’s like she knows where she is going and even as the path behind us closes she doesn’t seem concerned about getting back. “This is your realm isn’t it?”

“Not my realm, I merely lived here for a very long time.” She looked back to me then down to out joined hands. “Any binding you are under should be temporarily removed. He can’t influence you here.”

So Tristan did tell her what I had offered him. It was the only loophole I could come up with. I can’t tell anyone where the Island is, I can’t tell anyone what I am doing, or that I am obligated to never betray my King. “Once I leave though... the binding will return.”

“It will.” Her voice was soft. There was a glaring error in her small plan, and to save her, to save both of us I have to speak up or something horrible could happen.

“I can’t tell you or as soon as I leave I will have to tell him.” My heart clenched in my chest, I love this woman too much to hurt her like this. “Alle Dear, please. I want to be free, I do, but there is too much that I’m dealing with.”

“Do you trust me?” She asked and looked at him. “I will ask you this only one more time. I have thought about this. I thought about everything Tristan told me. You are not going to remember this conversation. From the moment you walked into the stones to when you leave, you won’t remember it. But you need to trust me. I need to know everything that is happening, what can you and can’t you do. There are loopholes, no one ever makes airtight bindings.”

I am a fool. I have been a fool all my life and now, I feel it. Alle is right and I can’t judge her again for what she has planned. If there was anyone who can out think my king, it’s her. “There is so much...”

“Piece by piece, we’re almost to the safe place.” She had us take a sharp right and there was a singular board we had to cross. I am fortunate to have good balance in my undead state, and Alle doesn’t even seem to notice it’s a wooden plank. I have to trust that she knows what she’s doing.

“There aren’t that many safe places here?” I asked not wanting to fall into silence again.

Alle’s smile was small, that little predator smile that reminded me she was forged in this forest. If ever there was a home for her, this was it. “There are two safe places I know of. One is the Village. It’s the place for all those who make deals to rest and not have to worry about the monsters coming to get them. The other safe place, is Grandmother’s house.”

Grandmother’s house? I will admit, I haven’t had anyone ever be grandmotherly towards me. Both of my parents were older when they had me and their parents were long gone. That being said I always saw grandmother’s as stern old woman who wanted to shake their canes at people who they didn’t approve of. I’m just not very fond of the idea, but, again, I trust Alle.

She noticed my stillness and shook her head. “Grandmother isn’t like most, she’s the oldest being here. Some say she made The Forest.”

“Are you meaning, she’s a god?” I said just taking a shot at what the obvious meaning was.

Alle shrugged. “Gods are just powerful beings aren’t they? But even gods die, gods are even born.”

I’m just going to accept that my Alle has admitted we are going to go and meet a god. It’s easier for me to think of it that way than to, not. 

I’m about to ask her more about this elusive Grandmother when I look up and see exactly what I was thinking about. A large grand mansion nestled into the woods. It’s drab, but has a rememberance of once bing a grand house. The Ivey and moss has bee waging a war with whatever old crone lives on the inside of the house.

I must say, this Grandmother woman doesn’t look too promising.

((Mentions: @allebeithloch ))

Chapter fifteen was hard to write. Please be warned that there is a triggering moment in this chapter at the mention of a miscarriage. You have been warned. As always, this is dedicated to @zeciex and @lovelykhaleesiii. And now dedicated to @frucienlover. Love you all.

Chapter Fifteen Coked Out Nerds

The ride to wherever Madelyn was taking them was a long one. Lilia stayed quiet as they drove, thinking of the pregnancy test in her back pocket. She had no idea how the fuck she was going to tell Michael about the baby that was currently growing inside her. She kept biting her lip and playing with her dark red hair, twirling it around her finger.

She could feel Michael’s eyes on her every now and then, waiting for her to talk to Madelyn about where they were going. But she just stayed quiet.

They pulled up to a large company building and Lilia raised her eyebrows. “What are we doing here?”

Madelyn looked at her and smiled. “This is basically the top of our organization. Think of us as a hotel. This is the penthouse.”

Lilia nodded and got out of the car, closing her door as Michael asked Madelyn why she was being kind to them.

“You are the one we’ve been waiting for.” Madelyn said tearfully. “Listen. When you talk to your father, can you maybe ask if I can be placed in the ninth circle?”

Lilia laughed as Michael was confused. “She means however it’s structured, she wants to be in the worst part.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Michael patted her hand and started walking towards Lilia, causing her to smile and left her breathless.

“Hail Satan!” Madelyn yelled to him and they both chuckled at her.

Lilia turned to the woman and winked at her, grabbing Michael’s hand.

Walking into the building, she was beginning to feel sick again. She let go of Michael’s hand and ran to the potted plant by the elevator.

“Lilia, what’s going on with you? You’ve been off since Mead died.” Michael asked her, rubbing her back and holding her back.

She breathed in and sighed. “Michael, I’m pregnant.” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out the test, placing it in his hand.

Pressing the button to the top floor, Lilia turned to look at him and bit her lip as he looked at the test in his hand. She was worried that he would make her get rid of their baby. She closed her eyes as a tear fell down her face.

“I would understand if you didn’t want a baby with me. I mean, I’m not exactly mother material. And we both know how you grew up.” She sniffled and stepped into the elevator.

“What?” That snapped him out of it. “What are you talking about? Why wouldn’t I want a baby with you?” He smiled and pushed her gently against the wall, kissing the hell out of her. “I would die for this baby. And you. But mainly a cute, chubby child that was part of you.”

Tears filled her eyes as she pulled him back to her lips to continue that kiss. The floor came too quickly and they heard someone clearing their throat.

“This is a place of business.” The voice scolded them as they turned to look at her. The woman was tall, dressed in all purple. Next to her was a walking stick that she was leaning on. “I’m Wilhelmina Venable. Do you have an appointment?”

“Wow. Harsh.” Lilia whispered as they walked up to her desk. “Yes, we do. The appointment was put together by Madelyn.”

“Wait here.” Ms. Venable pointed to two seats as a dainty girl came running up to the desk with a large box. The way she fired the poor girl made Lilia cough the word bitch into her elbow and Michael chuckled, gently elbowing her in the ribs.

“Behave.” He whispered as Venable glared at them, walking off with the box.

They waited a few more minutes before Venable came back and told them where to go. Lilia walked a few steps and stopped.

“I want to call my dad. The witches brought him back. I want to let him know I’m okay.” She told him as she pulled out her phone. “I’ll be quick.” She kissed his cheek and dialed her father as Michael walked into the huge office.

“Hello? Lilia?” Her father sounded worried and like he hadn’t slept for days. “Are you alright? I was so worried when I didn’t find you at the school.”

“I’ve been with Michael.” Lilia told him calmly. “Papa, you need to calm down. Your blood pressure.” She smiled as she heard him scoff at her.

“I hope that boy has been taking care of you. I don’t know what if I lost you.” Her father got sad for a moment. “Why did you call me?”

“Because I saw you kill Ariel and Baldwin. Along with Michael’s Adoptive mother.” Lilia scolded him. “How could you kill them? They were just trying to get more power to get respect from Cordelia. Something that is long overdue for warlocks.”

“They commited treason when they didn’t stop my death.” John Henry firmly told his daughter. “Which is exactly your punishment if Cordelia catches you. You aligned yourself with the Antichrist.”

She couldn’t believe her father’s words. He was giving up on her. “Cordelia wouldn’t kill me. I’m carrying Michael’s baby. We all know her and pregnant people. She wouldn’t dare harm an unborn baby.”

“You would dare be happy about carrying an abomination inside you?” Her father was pissed now. “You have brought the end of the world on all of us because you whored yourself to him. You are not my daughter. She is dead to me.” And with that he hung up on her.

Lilia couldn’t believe it. Her father had walked away from her. Her only family had deserted her because of who she fell in love with. Tears flowed down her face and she covered her mouth as her back hit the wall to slide down it. She curled herself around her knees and sobbed.

After a few minutes, she heard a scream coming from the office. Getting up, she ran through the doors and saw the burning body of what she assumed was the assistant of the two men standing near Michael.

“Everything okay?” She asked as they dropped to their knees before him.

Michael turned to her and saw the redness of her eyes. “What happened?”

“Papa abandoned me because I told him I’m pregnant.” She saw the small smile curl his lips as she reminded him that she was carrying his child.

“Hey, who’s the babe?” The blond asked Michael, chuckling softly.

“This babe could kill you if she really wanted to.” Lilia growled at them, hugging Michael’s waist as she sniffed away the tears. “He said I was dead to him.”

“That idiot doesn’t know what is more important. No one should give up on their children.” Michael kissed her head as he pulled away to look at the men who watched them. “We were told that you could help us. So, tell me what you can do.”

After a few minutes, they were all sitting outside, enjoying lunch. Lilia was eating Chinese with Jeff and Mutt, two coked out nerds who had sold their souls to Michael’s father for their company.

“You want some?” She asked her lover, offering some of her Lo Mein to him.

“You eat it. I’m not hungry.” He shook his head and looked at Mutt, who was explaining what exactly they did at their place of business.

“You need to tell us every detail you can remember of your most trusted advisor so she can be an almost exact replica.” Jeff told him as Michael pulled out a photo.

That was when the pain hit Lilia. “Oh, shit.” She groaned, looking down at her belly as she saw blood coming from her. “Michael, we need to go to the hospital.”

“What?” He looked at her and saw how pale she was. “Oh, shit. Come on.” He grabbed her and tried to help her up, but she was too weak.

The pain was too much for her. She couldn’t even scream. Biting her lip, she clung to Michael as he picked her up. Lilia could feel the blood pouring from her and could only cry.

Mutt and Jeff were telling them that they had a medical facility in their building. They followed them as she finally screamed from how bad the pain was. Not one of her Banshee screams, thank God. But it was still bad enough that it tugged at Michael’s heartstrings. He tried to keep her calm, but his own fears were showing on his face. What if this was their baby dying inside her?

They finally got to a hospital ned and Michael laid her down. A nervous doctor had come in and was doing an ultrasound as Lilia sobbed from how hurt she was. Michael held her hand and stroked her hair as they waited for the results.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Langdon.” The doctor looked at them sadly. “I couldn’t find a heartbeat. Your girlfriend is having a miscarriage. I would would suggest letting her stay here overnight so we can observe her because the pain was unlike anything we have ever had a woman complain about.” With that, she left and a nurse placed a gown on the bed for her to change into.

Michael looked at her and kissed her head, tears flowing down his own cheeks. “Your father told the witches.”

“My father wouldn’t dare. Cordelia had her own fertility problems. She would never do that.” Lilia got up and changed into the gown, whimpering as her body screamed in pain.

“Well, think about it. You are a pretty healthy girl. You tell your warlock father that you’re pregnant. And not even an hour later, your baby is dead inside you.” Michael was getting angry now and fuming at her.

Lilia couldn’t take it anymore. She burst into tears and leaned against him, covering her face as she thought about it. “You’re right. They did kill our baby. I didn’t realize they would do something like that.”

Michael looked at her and moved her hair from her face, kissing her forehead. “You look so pale. Please, get back into bed.” He helped into the gown and back into bed.

He settled into the chair beside her and watched her cry as the pain racked her body.Michael couldn’t believed that he was hated so much that they would go after his child like that. He was tired of the witches. First, they kill Mead and then they go after her. Lilia looked so small and so defeated. It was killing him to see her like that. She was the only thing that kept him strong. She accepted him as the Antichrist and didn’t expect him to change.

When she finally fell asleep, Jeff and Mutt came to let him know that they were done and were waiting for him to come look at their creation.

He nodded and got up, leaning down to kiss her head. “I’ll be right back, my love.” And he left to their handiwork at recreating Ms. Miriam Mead. Then, he would plan the assassination of the witches.

Tacenda

Upon hearing of a Sith holocron loose somewhere in the plains around the Enclave, the Exile and Mical go looking for it. They find the past along with it. [Fanfic written for Fictober 2018, prompt: “Impressive, truly”]

[Also on AO3]

[CN/TW: Trauma; PTSD; suicide; suicide ideation due to a malevolent outside force; mentions of debt slavery; disturbing imagery]

-------

Kalani had been raised with tales of the damage that could be wrought by misuse of even a Jedi holocron. She didn’t know of any initiate taken into the Jedi Order after the days of Exar Kun who hadn’t been. Those below the rank of Knight were only permitted heavily-restricted, heavily-supervised access to the Order’s holocrons, and this was one of the few things true of all Temples, all Enclaves, in a time and a galaxy where the Jedi Order was yet decentralized and the different communities could almost call themselves completely autonomous. Even Jedi Knights contended with some level of restriction—oh, how Atris had complained when she ran up against those restrictions herself.

The Jedi holocron was a wellspring of knowledge. It was wondrous and wonderful, and also dangerous. Caught unawares, they who opened a holocron could find their mind flooded with more information than it could process. The brain might ‘overload,’ the way a droid would if overtaxed, and the slow recovery from that was the least of what could happen to you. Open your mind too wide to the holocron, and it might just cause your mind to splinter.

Exar Kun was not the first Jedi to turn after delving too deeply into a holocron, and Kalani had the weary feeling (if the Jedi Order was ever reconstituted, if any holocrons were recovered, if any of them were meant to survive this), he would not be the last. Too many people equated knowledge with wisdom. Too many people, upon being exposed to the true scale of the universe, lost hope.

Sith holocrons, Kalani had not learned of until much later. The Order did not teach of them, except to warn its members never to open one, and if they found it already open, to by no means listen to anything it said. Her ignorance had not served her well when she had found an abandoned temple on Dxun full of glowing scarlet holocrons. It had not served her men well.

She didn’t like the idea that there was one lying in wait somewhere in the fields of Dantooine, just waiting for a hapless farmer to stumble across it.

“And we are certain that it is a Sith holocron that Kaevee found, and later discarded? Could it not be that it was a Jedi holocron, corrupted by some outside influence?”

Kalani shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of a Jedi holocron being corrupted before—though I suppose it’s possible; maybe if you synced it with a Sith holocron…” She tried to remember how the interface worked, how new information was uploaded into a holocron, before dismissing it as irrelevant with a shake of the head. “But there is one thing that makes me certain that it was a Sith holocron she found. She said it spoke to her.” Kalani twisted the pen she had been holding in her hands; if she slipped enough, harsh voices speaking no language she understood, and yet knew the words to anyways, echoed in the back of her head. Whispering of power and madness and death. “No matter what else is true, a Jedi holocron does not speak. It has no will of its own.”

To this, Mical nodded. Kalani could practically see the gears turning behind his blue eyes. “Yes, that is true,” he murmured. He glanced out of the window of the small, disused office in the Khoonda administrative building Administrator Adare had given him the run of, glancing out in what Kalani knew to be the direction of the Enclave. “A Jedi holocron is meant only to instruct, not persuade or corrupt.”

Something about his tone caught at a thread in Kalani’s mind. “You told me yesterday that the Republic let you study a Sith holocron.” She peered intently at Mical’s face, a frown stealing over her mouth. “What exactly did that entail?”

In a tone that reminded her of nothing quite so much as Atris, a very long time ago, after being told she didn’t have the clearance needed to look at something in the Archives, “I may have misspoken earlier; I don’t think I can really call the access I was allowed study. I was permitted to look at the Sith holocron, the better to be able to identify one in the field, if need be.”

“Just look at it, then?” What was the name of the man who had opened the first ghastly red holocron they had found on Dxun? “Not touch it?” How had he died? “It wasn’t open when you examined it, was it?” Had it been the long drop from the pinnacle, or the swift end of a lightsaber plunged into his own heart?

Mical seemed to guess at none of what was passing through Kalani’s mind—or if he did, he was very good at schooling his face always into neutrality. “The holocron was shut when I was shown it, and now, I wasn’t allowed to touch it. The Republic knows how dangerous such tools are; the holocron is typically contained within a sealed durasteel crate, and was shown to myself and the other researchers sealed in a transparisteel display case.”

Well, at least some good had come of that horrific episode on Dxun. “Good,” Kalani mumbled. Her eyes strayed to the map lying out on the table between them, all the Xs and circles Mical had drawn, with the Enclave at the epicenter. “Now, these are the spots you think Kaevee’s most likely dump sites?”

“Yes. I’ve heard enough reports to know the strange influence a Sith holocron exerts over its bearer. Kaevee would have been drawn to a place with some power in the Force.”

Kalani narrowed her eyes. “You know a great deal about Dantooine’s local ‘hot spots,’” she said slowly, watching his face carefully for any sign of reaction. The morning sunlight pouring through the window made the air in the room hot and still and close.

If there was anything to give away, Mical did not let it slip. “As I have said, I am a historian, one who specializes in Jedi history and traditions. I did my research before coming here.”

And perhaps that was all there was to it. The information Kalani had just mentioned was restricted—under normal circumstances, you would have needed to be a Jedi to know it—but after the emptying of the High Temple, the Republic government likely took charge of the Coruscant Archives and databases. Mical was given access, however brief and however restricted, to a Sith holocron. A certain measure of access to the Coruscant Archives didn’t seem so far-fetched in light of that. And yet…

But that was not Kalani’s primary concern. “Even so, we have no guarantee that the holocron is still at the initial dump site. It might have been carried off since then.”

“And it’s a lot of ground to cover.” Mical leaned back in his chair, shoulders sagging as the prospect of a long, long search settled on them both. “If it were something less dangerous, I would say that we need to organize search parties. But a Sith holocron—“ he waved a hand wearily in the air “—it’s just too dangerous to the unwary mind.”

“And we don’t want word getting out that there’s a holocron here.” Kalani couldn’t even look out the window without catching sight of a crater; the one closest was still ringed with massive clods of earth and stone, the broken bones of Dantooine left to bleach and dry in the sun. “I think Dantooine has had enough unwanted attention to last until the end of time.”

Mical smiled sadly—and that sadness struck at something inside of Kalani whose name she couldn’t quite recall. “That, too.”

They sat, a bit too tender in that heavy, weary sadness to say anything, the sadness paralyzing them too much to go on. It hit Kalani all over again what had become of the home of her childhood, and she wished she could leave this place and never return, and let the memories of the broken shell of the Enclave become less real than her memories of the place whole, even as she knew she was going to have to lay eyes on it broken open again today. Whether or not he was being entirely honest with her, the fellow-feeling that shot up between them was real. The warm, soft sadness that rolled off of him was real. It might have been naïve—it was definitely naïve—but she couldn’t believe he meant her or her crew any real harm.

“Oh, hell.”

And then Kalani remembered something.

Mical’s eyes snapped to her face. “What is it?” he asked, concerned.

Kalani pressed a hand to her mouth and groaned. “Yesterday, when I was first heading towards the Enclave, I passed by a camp of salvagers. One of them said he had a holocron for sale. I thought he was just running some sort of scam, but if he was telling the truth…”

Mical nodded decisively, suddenly much firmer than the young man Kalani had known for a little less than a day. “There’s only one way to know for certain.”

-0-0-0-

“You certainly seem to know your way around.” Kalani had let Mical lead the way, just to see what would happen. He led them towards the Enclave with such surety that the idea that this was only the second time he had been there grew more and more ridiculous with each footstep.

“I was given very detailed maps,” Mical told her airily. “I studied them diligently before I arrived.”

“Liar,” Kalani muttered, and trusted the wind howling across the grassy plains of Dantooine to drown out her voice.

The little spires of smoke from the fires in the shantytown the salvagers called a settlement came into view before the settlement itself. Again, there was that fetid odor of sweat and feces and rotting food, but this wasn’t Kalani’s first exposure to it, and she had smelled far, far worse in her time—she was inured to such odors. A glance at Mical caught him wrinkling his nose, and no more. She smiled at him in spite of herself. (And told herself not to ignore the way her memory was pricking at the front of her mind.)

The man who had claimed to have a holocron for sale was hardly difficult to find again; Kalani and Mical found him half-advertising-to, half-harassing one of the locals who sold the salvagers food. Mical’s eyebrows shot up as they watched the poor Twi’lek try to extricate herself from a conversation about the supposedly wondrous baubles the salvager had scrounged from the Jedi Enclave. “He certainly knows how to make himself popular, doesn’t he?” Mical murmured.

“He’s potentially about to become a lot more popular,” Kalani replied, “and I don’t think he’d like how that feels. Come on.”

The Twi’lek, her black-dappled blue lekku twitching irritably, stormed past them as Kalani and Mical neared the salvager and his little “stand.” “Good morning… Ralon, wasn’t it?”

Ralon’s narrow, weather-beaten face lit up at their approach. “Ah, you have returned!” the eagerness in his voice was equal parts hunger and desperation. Maybe desperation was stronger, and Kalani wondered uneasily if it had been absent yesterday, or if it had been there and she just hadn’t been looking for it, because she was convinced he was just a scam artist. “Have you rethought looking at my wares?”

“Yes, I have,” Kalani said firmly, if significantly more quietly than Ralon’s bombastic tones. “Specifically, the hol—“

“Ah!” Ralon’s dark eyes darted around the camp; he understood some need for caution, at least. “Say no more, madame! If you and your companion would follow me?”

Under other circumstances, Kalani supposed she might have been concerned that this shifty man was leading her and Mical—who, while capable enough at evasion to reach the Enclave sublevel unharmed, had yet to give any indication of what he was like in close-quarters combat against an intelligent opponent—to a tent at the far edge of the camp, a position that would be difficult to escape from if need be. But she was armed, blaster pistol and vibroblade both, and if it wasn’t safe (for multiple reasons) to use the Force here, she could say with confidence that she was feeling much stronger in body than she had when she woke up on the Peragus mining station. A cause was good for that. She wasn’t feeling worried. Just a little impatient, and better not to let Ralon see that.

The interior of Ralon’s canvas tent didn’t smell any better than the rest of the camp. If anything, the close quarters and lack of air flow made the tent smell worse than the rest of the camp. A flutter of movement to her left, and Kalani looked to see Mical visibly struggling not to gag as they sat down on an overturned crate.

Careful, she mouthed to him, nodding to Ralon, who stood with his back turned to them as he rummaged through a crate full of odds and ends.

Mical quirked a rueful smile, and mouthed something that might have been I am trying.

At last, Ralon pulled out a bundle wrapped in cloth and sat down on the overturned crate opposite them. “Behold, my friends, the rarest find imaginable from the Jedi Enclave, an intact holocron, and it can be yours for a mere one thousand credits.”

With a flourish, Ralon whipped off the cloth and showed them the “holocron.”

Kalani heaved a sigh. Eyebrows raised, she looked into Ralon’s entirely too eager face. “Impressive, truly,” she said tiredly.

“I know. You wouldn’t believe the trouble I went through to—“

“Again, impressive.” Kalani fixed Ralon in a flat stare that saw him wilt slightly, even before going on: “Looking at this, I can well believe that you have at least seen a Jedi holocron at some point in your life, which does suggest some things about your background. But this?” She jerked the “holocron”—a lovely recreation, really, but cold and lifeless in her grasp—out of Ralon’s hand and held it aloft, frowning first at it, then at him. “Is not a holocron.”

Sweat began to bead on Ralon’s forehead. “I assure you, madame—“

“It isn’t real.” It was Mical who interjected this time, and though his voice might have been soft, there was a steely certainty to it—so he, too, could tell at just a glance?—that made the words die on Ralon’s lips. “As she said, it is a good forgery, but a forgery is all that it is.”

Ralon had nothing to say, this time—judging by the way he was starting to shake, he seemed to realize he’d been had. Mical took the fake holocron out of Kalani’s hand and actually started to go over the inconsistencies one by one, while sweat began to drip down Ralon’s face in earnest. Kalani, meanwhile, pulled the scarf draped over her head a little closer—it was not warm in here, for all that nervous sweat—and began to think.

All she had needed was to look at the holocron and not feel the Force flowing through it to know that she was looking at a forgery. Mical might have been allowed to study Jedi holocrons as well as Sith, but given just how quickly he, too, had become convinced the holocron was a forgery… Given how quickly, he had likely seen—and felt—just what Kalani had.

But more than that, they were no closer to their goal than they had been when they set out this morning. They’d gone looking for a Sith holocron and found the simulacrum of a Jedi holocron, and wasted daylight doing it. And there was something else she needed to deal with, in here.

“Who are you people?!” Ralon burst out at last. He eyed each of them in turn, his face twisting in something close to a snarl. “You’re not Jedi, are you?”

“No,” Mical said in decidedly clipped tones. “I am a historian working for the Republic. I was tasked with taking stock of Jedi sites; as such, I am well-versed in distinguishing real artifacts from false ones.”

“I am no Jedi,” Kalani murmured, “but you, Ralon, do you know what a holocron is?”

“Well, I…” Ralon squirmed in his seat, sweat bathing his face so that it looked as if he’d dipped his head in one of the aqueducts near Khoonda. “It’s a… The holocron’s…”

“A holocron,” and Kalani worked to keep her voice soft, keep it measured, because this was important, “is a repository of knowledge. Not simply on matters of the Force—though there is plenty of that; they are tools of the Jedi, after all—but also star charts, planetary maps, lexicons, starship blueprints, books of medicine and poisons, historical data, and more.”

A weak giggle escaped Ralon’s mouth. “Is that what it is?”

“And do you know, also, that with the Jedi gone, their holocrons are highly sought-after? By the Republic, by people of wealth, by bounty hunters and crime lords and assassins? That there are people in the galaxy who would stop at nothing to possess one?”

“Of course I do!” Ralon protested, and Kalani supposed it was just as well that he had missed the potential implied threat in her words—it would be easier to make her actual point. “Why do you think I wanted so much for it?”

The silence that followed could have felled a rancor.

Mical blinked once, twice, three times. “…You… truly do not understand the value of a Jedi holocron, do you?” came out in the sort of tone as if he couldn’t decide whether or not he was being scammed again.

Kalani had to resist the urge to tip her head back and groan. Once she trusted herself to speak calmly—this really was important—she fixed Ralon in a piercing stare and asked him, “So you understand how dangerous it is even to claim to have a holocron in your possession? You understand how many people might come looking for you and your prize, what kind of people they are? And what they would likely do to you once they discovered the deception?”

“I…” Ralon jutted out his jaw. “I do.”

“Then why take that risk?” Kalani pressed. “I don’t think you’re doing this purely out of greed. Why take such a horrible risk when there are other things you could sell, other ways you could make your living?”

There came another charged silence, and from the way Ralon’s face contorted, Kalani wondered if she hadn’t miscalculated. But then that sweaty, strained face crumpled, and Ralon hid his face in his hands. “You don’t understand.” His voice was muffled, but Kalani would have recognized the quality of despair even if he had remained silent.

“I might. Tell me.”

He tried to straighten, though with his shoulders still sagging couldn’t completely manage it. There were tracks on his face that Kalani couldn’t tell if they were from sweat or tears. “Okay. I… Before the bombardment, I worked in the Enclave as an electrical technician. You wondered where I’d seen a holocron; that’s where. When Malak came—“ he licked his lips, eyes going white and wild as memory coated the present day “—when Malak came, my family and I lost everything. I can’t get proper work; guilt by association,” he said with a grimace. “Salvaging’s the only way I can get any credits.”

“That’s not all there is to this, though, is it?” It couldn’t be. It didn’t cover the breadth of his desperation.

And sure enough, Ralon shook his head choppily. “I… I borrowed some money. Trying to get enough to get off-world, but they hiked the passenger fare right after, so we’re stuck.” His hands were shaking now, and his voice listed between high and low. “If I don’t pay off my creditors, my wife and our daughter, they’ll be…”

Sold. That much, he didn’t have to say aloud.

Kalani sighed heavily and leaned back on her crate, thinking. She had an idea of what to do. She’d catch it from Kreia later, and probably from Atton and Mira, too. But it was like Atton said of her all the way back on Citadel Station—she never could turn a deaf ear to a sob story. Even one that she knew could be a lie.

“Alright.” Kalani drew up to her full (not at all impressive, but the effort counted) height and stared firmly at Ralon. “Here are my terms. I will not pay you a thousand credits for that box. It is a pretty recreation, but a recreation is all it is. As it stands, I certainly don’t have the credits to pay you the true value of a real Jedi holocron. I’d be surprised if any individual person on this planet does.

“What I will do is pay you the money you need to pay off your debts, and take your family and leave Dantooine.” Kalani frowned sternly at him. “And do not lie to me.”

She was definitely going to hear about this from Kreia later—it wouldn’t be any use hiding from it; she would just know, as if she had been here herself. Likely something about weakening this man by saving him from his troubles instead of leaving him to struggle out of them himself, and strengthen himself from the results of conflict. Atton would complain—and truth be told, Kalani could hardly blame him—about what the sudden loss of the credits would do to their finances. Mira… It was hard to tell with Mira. To an extent, she was very much a “you made your bed; now lie in it” sort of person. But needless callousness and cruelty were things that just seemed to disgust her, and the potential collateral damage of this matter…

Oh, well. In the end, this was her decision to make, and she couldn’t regret it.

They worked out a figure of five hundred credits, and given the way Ralon’s lips kept twisting, Kalani suspected that if he had exaggerated, it wasn’t by very much. All the while, Mical watched them in silence, watchful and frowning thoughtfully, as if he was a teacher evaluating some sort of verbal exam.

Before they left (with the box; if someone came looking for it, at least Ralon could claim truthfully that he had sold his “holocron”), Kalani spared a last line of questions for Ralon. “Where will you go, when you leave Dantooine?”

Ralon shrugged. Credits in hand, he seemed much calmer than he had earlier, though the shreds of nervous energy still clung to his back and shoulders. “I… I haven’t really thought that far ahead. Everywhere nearby’s gone to hell and I was just concentrating on getting anywhere that wasn’t here.”

“Have you thought of Telos?”

“Telos?” Ralon laughed incredulously. “Lady, Telos got fragged straight to hell in the war. There’s nothing there but poison and dead bodies.”

So Kalani too had thought when she first laid eyes on that world. Death had reached out to her mind and screamed in her bones, and it hadn’t drawn back its hooks until she went down to the surface and stood in the Restoration Zone. “There’s Citadel Station,” she said, instead of suggesting the Restoration Zone. “The Telos Security Force is short on personnel; so long as you don’t tell them about…” She held the box aloft again “…this, I don’t think they’d blink at your application. It’s not the safest work in the world, but it’s honest work, at least. Something to think about!”

And they emerged back into air that was not fresh, but at least promised to become such once they were well away from the salvagers’ camp. That was how far they walked, before Kalani and Mical stopped to decide where they would search next.

“I’m surprised,” Mical said softly, as they pored over the map they’d taken from Khoonda, “at how you handled that man. There are many who wouldn’t have shown him nearly as much patience—or compassion. After discovering he had tricked us, you could have just walked away.”

Kalani shrugged her shoulders, looking at the map rather than his eyes. “I… It’s difficult to explain.” Certainly, Kreia had tried to make her explain herself more than once, and she’d never been able to find an explanation that satisfied either of them. “When I see someone in need of help, if there is anything I can do to help them, I do it. It’s… You may think it naïve, or meddlesome, but that’s how it is with me.”

“I’m not complaining,” Mical told her hastily. “There are so many people in the galaxy who care for nothing beyond their own good; it’s refreshing to meet someone who cares for others in need. But I am curious. You really could have simply walked away after the deception was revealed. And I think we both know he could have been lying.”

Kalani shrugged again, if a bit more easily. “If he was lying about everything, about being in debt, about having a wife and child who would be sold—“ her lip curled “—to pay for his debt, it’s still true that he was in danger of being killed by anyone who came looking for the holocron he claimed to have. I don’t think he was lying, though, not about everything. And if he was telling the truth, then if nothing else is true, it’s certainly true that Ralon’s wife and child don’t deserve to pay the price for his poor decisions.”

“They don’t, no.” Mical smiled at her then, but it was not a happy smile, not exactly. It was something wistful and nostalgic, something old, something familiar. Something of this place, and Kalani was certain he didn’t know he was doing it, because there was no effort made to wipe the look off of his face.

-0-0-0-

In the end, their next choice ended up being made on account of Mical’s curiosity. There was a site some distance from the Enclave, but still within reasonable walking distance of their own location, that had been heavily bombed when Malak attacked Dantooine. Mical thought, and surveys of the area seemed to back up the idea, that that particular site might have been more heavily bombed than the Enclave itself.

The site was a mystery to Kalani. When she had lived in the Enclave, Jedi had been forbidden to go there unless ordered by the Dantooine Council. She knew nothing of it, and that combined with the moratorium on travel, well, she would have been lying if she said it didn’t pique her curiosity as well, just a little.

“Let’s go there, then.”

As they walked, the day was silent but for the howling of the wind over the grass and the occasional gnarled, wounded tree. The kath hounds and kinrath (and Kalani was still trying to puzzle out what possessed the later to leave their haunts during the daylight hours) didn’t seem to want to go near this part of the planes. The brith that Kalani had been so fascinated by as a child were gone—all dead, or else gone seeking greener pastures, where there was nothing to shoot them out of the sky.

Even when you discounted the bled-dry wreckage of the Jedi Enclave, Dantooine had been wounded nearly unto death. The scream echoed in the minds of the residents who had been here when turbolasers cascaded upon the landscape, and even among those who had not been here, the scream sometimes emanated, more faintly, as if it was just beginning to take root there. The craters that marred the horizon were like the pitted holes in rotting fruit, but there was still life here regardless, clinging to dry earth watered only with tears. It was difficult, telling whether vitality would ever truly return to Dantooine, or if it would die by inches until it was empty, and the wind traveled forever, and never met anything with the ability to leave a lasting impression upon the surface.

What can anyone do against something such as this? When the wealthy can be persuaded to lend their aid and the powerful actually care to do something, then there is a chance, but when it’s the poor scrabbling against the tide of entropy and everything seems arrayed against them, trying to knock them down and scatter them into nothing, what are they to do?

I suppose Kreia would say this is the test of their right to exist, or something like that. Kalani pursed her lips, and wondered what it was that had so thoroughly convinced Kreia that offering or accepting help in matters such as this was an evil. What it was that had convinced her that the only way someone could become truly strong was by becoming strong alone, without help from anyone else.

She could worry about that after they had found the holocron and disposed of it.

As they neared the site, jagged spires of broken stone reaching up to the yellowing sky like pleading fingers, Kalani and Mical both stopped, standing very still as they stared down at the mounds of rubble.

This had been a place of great power, once. She did not need to read a report or listen to Kreia telling tales of Dantooine to know that. She could feel it in the air, the echoes of that power, mostly gone, but still present enough to carry a charge. It sang to her, and though it sang with no words that any mortal ear could have discerned, she knew what it was saying, nonetheless.

Not this again.

And beneath it, there was something she knew entirely too well.

“You told me your name, yesterday.” Mical’s voice came to her as though from far away, though she could not hear the wind in her ears, and she doubted he could, either. “You said that it was Kalani Nuna. Now that we’re here… You, you were General Nuna during the Mandalorian Wars, were you not?”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded like nothing she could ever remember coming out of her mouth before.

“You were the infantry commander for the Dxun campaign. There was an…” He paused, brow furrowing and mouth working, like he was struggling even to get words out. “…An incident on Dxun related to Sith holocrons.”

“…Yes.”

“…What happened?”

Kalani took a breath, having to fight against the air to draw air in. “If you know there was an incident, you should know the particulars.”

“It’s buried under redactions, and I don’t have the level of clearance necessary to know the whole story. But you… You did encounter Sith holocrons on Dxun, did you not?”

“I……… Yes.”

Another long pause, and Mical struggled to even speak. “You… Are we in danger?”

At this, she laughed, but it was a bitter, hollow sound. “Oh, yes. But so is everyone else, if it is not disposed of.”

She walked down the slope towards the ruins. She didn’t tell Mical to follow her. She didn’t signal him to follow her in any way. But she could hear footsteps against the grass anyways, and she didn’t bother telling him to stay back. She didn’t think he would have, and of the Sith holocrons she had contended with on Dxun, she had never been able to figure out just how far their influence stretched. It had varied. She had no guarantee that he would have been safe at the crest of the slope.

Every step down the slope was a step back into the past. The grass grew longer and longer, pulling on her knees, then her waist. The air grew closer and closer, became charged with static electricity and thick with rain and suspended condensation. The smell of water and earth and blood and oil and ozone filled her nostrils, and Kalani thought she heard voices that were right in her ears, and yet were faint and whispery, as if coming from far off. She clutched at the hilt of her vibroblade and realized only when her hand clutched at a hilt that felt very different than it should have that she was clutching a vibroblade, and not a lightsaber. She reached for her blaster instead.

The spires of stone cast long, dark shadows across the ground that bled from dark brown to black with scarcely any effort. They made it difficult to see the ground, see if it was grass there or stone, if the ground was smooth or broken. That feeling that had buried itself inside of her, that undercurrent of bitter cold grew stronger the deeper Kalani went into the ruins.

“Do you see light?” Mical was whispering to her. She didn’t know why he was whispering, didn’t know why whispering felt right to her.

“I…”

She didn’t, not at first. She looked ahead of her and saw only shadows. But Kalani blinked once, twice, three times, and she saw light winking at her from some thirty feet away. Red and flickering and pulsing with a power she recognized immediately.

“That’s it.” Her voice was choked. “And I think… I think it’s open.”

At this point, Kalani would, in retrospect, reflect that she really should have told Mical to turn back, even if the likelihood of his listening to her was slim to none. In the moment, she barely remembered he was there as she stepped forward, towards the source of the light.

In her nightmares, the holocrons were always bigger. Sometimes they swallowed men whole, and for that they needed to be bigger. They were twisted, distorted things that pulsed and writhed and sprouted vines with which to strangle everything that crossed its path. They needed to be bigger for that.

In her nightmares, the holocrons were always bigger, and it had been more than ten years since she had last laid eyes on a real one. So when she found this small pyramid of a box, glass and metal and a glowing red core, slightly open, it was a shock. Of course it was. She didn’t expect it to be so small.

It was open, the holocron was open, and that had its consequences. It had a voice to speak, and that had its consequences.

Last time, Kalani had not been among the first targeted—it was probably the only reason she was here to freeze before an open Sith holocron now. She had had other duties outside of the abandoned temple, and had sent teams in to survey the area and determine if it was fit for habitation. And the men she had sent in, they hadn’t succumbed immediately. The holocrons had yet to glut themselves on death and grow powerful enough to have immediate effects. But there had been signs. There had been…

There had been…

It spoke to her. They liked to talk, Sith holocrons, they had begged and pleaded and berated as she ordered them packed into a crate and fired into the sun.

Behind her, there was a dull thud like something falling, but she couldn’t imagine what that might be. The voice of the holocron filled her ears and it spoke of death, gloried in the death that clung to her like a noxious veil. There was a way out of everything she was feeling, it told her, a very simple way out.

Her arm lifted the blaster almost of its own accord.

There was such a simple way out, and she could have it right now if she just—

The holocron exploded in a spray of glass and shards of red light, and Kalani knew no more.

-0-0-0-

When Kalani woke up, she wasn’t in the ruins anymore, but lying flat on her back on the slope leading down to it. The scarf she had been wearing over her head had been folded and placed under it as a sort of pillow. The sky was a dark, ochre yellow, tinged ever so faintly with red. Her head hurt terribly.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Mical’s voice, taut and a touch unsteady, filtered to her after a moment of confused disorientation. “That’s… That’s good. Here.” A hand slid between her shoulders and pushed her upright. “Sit up. I need to check for a concussion.”

Kalani frowned at him. “How long have I been unconscious?”

“Not long; about a quarter of an hour, I’d say.” That hand moved to her shoulder, and it was impossible for Kalani to miss the way it shook. “It’s not really good practice to move someone who might have a concussion, but I didn’t think it wise to stay in the ruins. I…” He licked his lips. “…I was afraid it would have certain effects.”

They went through the process of confirming that no, Kalani did not have a concussion. This was not her first go at having to reassure an anxious medic that she hadn’t sustained a brain injury, and the process of proving (out in the field, anyways; in a more formal setting she knew there would have been a lot more tests) that had not become any less tedious in the last ten years. It was over very quickly, despite the fact that Mical kept tripping over the steps, which was a small mercy, at least.

When this was over with, Kalani drew a deep breath, tried to center herself. She’d had training to ignore pain, move past it. It had been so long ago, but surely she hadn’t forgotten all of it. Some things were ingrained too deeply in the body to ever be truly forgotten. And she did remember, after a while, and if she didn’t remember all of it, she at least remembered enough to get the headache down to manageable levels. Enough to ask questions.

“Alright, so…” Kalani forced her mind back—only a few minutes, really, but such a struggle regardless. “I believe I shot the holocron. Perceptions can become distorted around Sith holocrons, so I would just like to confirm: did you see me shooting the holocron?”

Mical leaned back on the grass, scrubbing at his forehead as he apparently struggled to remember. “I… believe so. I came to just after it was destroyed. The holocron had been shattered, and there was a scorch mark on the ground where it had been consistent with scoring from a blaster. At any rate, it is destroyed, and…” His face twisted. “Though I would have liked the chance to study it, that was always contingent on its not having been opened before I found it.”

Kalani nodded, and immediately regretted it, even as the pain was starting to die down. “They really are too dangerous for anything and everything in their proximity. If you had been around it long enough for it to get its hooks in you, you would have regretted it.”

“I suppose.”

They sat on the hillside for Kalani didn’t know how long (it couldn’t have been that long; the sky was darkening to orange, but never went completely dark), catching their breath and their bearings. Kalani supposed she should check in with the Ebon Hawk—she’d never been terribly clear on when her crew could expect her back, and someone was bound to come looking for her if she wasn’t back by the next morning—but she couldn’t find it in her to activate her comm. They weren’t that far from the spaceport. And there was something else she needed to do first.

“You and I,” she said heavily, “we have met before, haven’t we?”

There was a long silence, and she didn’t look over to him, didn’t look at Mical’s face. She could guess at the way his face twisted, could practically feel the way his face twisted. “Yes.” She could barely hear him over the wind. “We have.”

Now, Kalani looked over at him, and the sight of his face wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be. No mask of agony here, just the soft bitterness of nostalgia and paths that don’t lead where they had promised they would. “Here?”

“Yes, here,” he said softly. “Long ago, I was an initiate at this Enclave. You guest-taught at one of my classes; the normal instructor was away from the Enclave on a mission. It…” He laughed ruefully. “…Your teaching and your example made an impression. One that has lasted to this day.”

And when she thought about it, she remembered one of the classes she had guest-taught—there had been more than one, there had been a need to keep a Padawan who couldn’t keep a master occupied—and remembered a young boy who had followed after her when the lesson was done, peppering her with questions. It was such a long time ago.

“So you left the Order?” It wasn’t framed as an accusation, nor even meant as one. By the end, Kalani wasn’t certain she would have stayed on as a Jedi, even had she not been exiled. The Order… The Order had not been what it once was. It no longer held true to the principles it had proclaimed when Kalani was young. It no longer held true to a great many things.

But Mical shook his head. “I washed out. I came of age still an initiate, and there was no one willing to take me on as their apprentice. I had to make my way on my own, and that led me to the Republic.”

“Wouldn’t that have been difficult, though? You must have had some training with the Force, and going about half-trained, exposed to the war…”

“You can forget those things, you know.” His voice was very soft. It had often been very soft, but now, there was some quality to that softness that made Kalani take notice of it, separate it out as something different. “It takes work, but you can forget the lessons you learned, forget how to feel with the Force. It can lie dormant within you, and fall into a deep sleep, and it can eventually be as if it’s dead, though if the stimulus is strong enough—“ Mical stared blackly down at the ruins, where the shattered remains of a Sith holocron glittered brightly enough to catch the dying light like stars “—it will awaken again, for a time. That is…”

“Deeply unpleasant,” Kalani supplied wearily. When the Force had first reawakened inside of her, it had been agony beyond anything she had ever experienced, agony beyond Dxun, agony beyond Malachor V.

The jittery laugh that hit the air confirmed that she wasn’t the only one who felt that way. “It felt a little as though my skull was an egg, and someone had cracked it open and poured boiling water inside. Though that may simply have been because the stimulus was something of the Sith.”

And maybe the difference for them, why Mical only felt that way when it was something of the Sith and Kalani had felt that way when the stimulus was something far more neutral for that, was something that originated in them. Maybe she wasn’t whole enough anymore to feel anything normally anymore, so that when the Force that she would have sworn was dead and not sleeping reawoke inside of her, it was a rebirth so agonizing that there was a moment when she wished for the death that should have been hers at Malachor. If someone told her that, she wouldn’t have been too shocked. She wasn’t certain she would even have been offended.

“And now?”

It was, perhaps, not the question to ask. Perhaps it was better to leave it unsaid, leave it in the interstice and let it stay amorphous. Curiosity had always been one of those traits to get Kalani in trouble, though, even if it wasn’t in her in as great amounts as it had been in Atris. And she felt as if she owed it to the past she had left behind. Something to put it to bed.

In the deepening dusk, it was difficult to make out what passed over Mical’s face. A shadow, perhaps; a cloud, perhaps. “Now, I think I can best serve the Republic as I am now. Perhaps that might change, but for now, I do not think it would do any good.”

How things had changed. The Kalani Nuna of twenty years ago would have been horrified by that, to hear someone who was clearly strong with the Force refuse training and listen to them as they regarded it… Improper, perhaps, or inappropriate? The Kalani Nuna of twenty years ago had known only one alternative to being a Jedi, and didn’t understand that there were so many different ways to perceive the Force, and that only a few of them were purely Light or Dark. Now, she nodded in weary acceptance, and tried to bat away the guilt she felt when she thought of “made an impression, one that has lasted” and the ways that might have influenced him, might have led to where he was now, might have done ill.

Overhead, the sunset and advancing twilight were not as Kalani remembered them from years ago. Even the beauty of Dantooine’s sunsets had died away, leaving only a dull, russet red like dried blood to carry the world into darkness. That darkness was a shelter for so many things, and it provided enough shelter for her to ask, faintly, “When the holocron spoke to you, what did it say?”

Mical sighed. “Nothing I can put into words.” He tapped the lid of his first-aid kit with his fingertip. “Nothing I care to recall.”

Kalani knew that feeling. He was going to fit right in on the Ebon Hawk.

“Come on. Let’s go back to Khoonda before it gets too dark.”

Negan’s Rose - Chapter 1

Word count: 2351

Warnings: mentions of hunger pains.

This is my very first chapter of my very first fic. This just kinda sets up the character and lets you get to know her a bit. More exciting things are to come in the next chapters. If you read this, thank you !!!

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Chapter 1

You had been on your own for four months before everything changed. You had managed fine at first, finding an old barn about a mile off of a small stream that ran through the trees. You were lucky to have a source of fresh water and used it to wash yourself and your clothes, making you more presentable than the average survivor. When you investigated the barn for the first time it was completely empty apart from a few bales of hay that you had used as a makeshift mattress. There were no signs of life in the barn so you hesitantly made it your home for the time being. You spent the time scavenging in the small neighbourhood close by, it was a three mile walk each time however your scarce food supply was slowly depleting and you had hopes of finding others you could join. You were a natural introvert before all of this and you thrived being on your own. You loved curling up with a good book and a mug of hot tea while the sound of the rain calmed your mind after a busy day at work, but those cozy days were over and circumstance had forced you to become a people person. Over the weeks you were becoming weaker and weaker, the hunger pains getting worse. You were gonna have to go further out if you had any chance at finding new supplies and food.

You awoke at sunrise and the familiar dull hunger hit you immediately. You sipped on some water you had collected from the stream the night before, hoping it would briefly soothe the ache before you had to resort to eating the last of your food. With weak shaky hands you combed your hair through with your fingers before securing it in a tight braid the way your mother had taught you as a child, letting it rest on your neck. You had picked up the ginger gene from her side of the family and got your looks from her too. Your porcelain pale skin contrasted against your bright golden hair and red lips. You were the centre of a lot of attention before the world went to shit. Men liked you. You were witty and charming and had striking good looks. It could disarm a man and make him fall to his knees, but a year of surviving in this world had taken a toll on you and it was evident, with your protruding cheek bones and deep set eyes as green as the forest. You had dark circles and you looked and felt weak, not remembering the last time you had had a decent meal. Any muscle mass you had gained was withering away and your ribs were beginning to become prominent. Adapting to this new world was tough, you hated violence and couldn’t use a gun to save yourself. Literally. Guns were never your thing and your mother taught you to use violence as an absolute last resort. This wasn’t much of a problem in the old world as you could talk your way out of most things, manipulating the situation to your advantage. You had an incredible gift for reading people and a sharp, quick sense of humour which you assumed you picked up from your father, your mother telling you stories of how he had smooth talked and charmed her. This had helped you in the past when you came across other survivors, convincing them to trust you and let you join their groups. You never had any bad intentions but you knew that you had to convince them you didn’t anyway, they were wary of who to take in, naturally. But you knew you couldn’t rely solely on your personality and had to adapt your mentality as you navigated through this new world, forcing yourself to learn to use a knife. You had only killed a handful of walkers and it didn’t get any easier each time. Your breath still caught in your throat whenever you came face to face with them as you forced yourself to unfreeze and defend yourself.

You double checked your back pack making sure you had everything before you set off. Water bottle, a spare knife, a small blanket, the last granola bar you were down to and an old tattered photo of your mother and your older brother. You traced the outline of their faces with your fingers, losing yourself momentarily in memories of a past life. This was your only family and not knowing where they were, if they were even alive ate away at you, however you were good at repressing these things. The absence of your father growing up had rendered you cold and taught you to lower your expectations. You failed to form meaningful bonds with the groups you were a part of before so as not to get hurt, but this left you extremely lonely. On multiple occasions your mind retreated to a familiar dark place and you had thought about ending it, but you were strong like your brother and kept on going. You knew that there were other people out there you just had to find them.

You took another sip of water, the hunger still gnawing away at you as you tried to hold off on eating the last of your food for as long as you could manage. You always kept your boots on in case you had to run. You tied your plaid shirt around your waist over the only t-shirt you had, an old faded camp shirt that was another reminder of your past life. The summer had been harsh and unrelenting and scavenging and walking miles in the Georgia heat had been brutal, constantly testing your thirst however it was coming to an end and you knew the winter was going to be even worse if you didn’t find somewhere more secure. You slumped your denim jacket over your shoulders and put on your backpack before leaving the small barn, knife at the ready. You would miss your makeshift home that had sheltered you from the world, but you hoped someone else would find it once you had left. You didn’t know exactly where you were going but you wanted to make it to the small town a few miles away before the sun rose fully in the sky. You made your way through the woods, the familiar ache in your legs from your daily hiking trips to the water stream resurfacing as you picked up your pace. The sun was still rising so the woods were dusky, gloomy but peaceful. You walked for about two hours before you reached the long dirt road that led to the town. You allowed yourself to stop for a rest, stretching your legs and taking the smallest sip of water, knowing you had to conserve it for the day. You balled your hands into fists and pushed your stomach inwards, tricking it into feeling full to try and distract yourself from the growing hunger pains, a trick a former leader of an old group had taught you.

The silence you had become accustomed to was suddenly interrupted as you heard the snarl of a walker emerging from the other side of the trees. Walkers were rare when you were deep in the forest and you only had to deal with the occasional straggler, however you were edging closer to your destination and knew that there would be more walkers ahead. You quickly grabbed ahold of your knife taking a deep breath and in one swift move brought it down on the poor thing’s skull, instantly silencing it. You couldn’t help but wander if he - No, it- you reminded yourself had a family before all of this. You swiftly pushed that thought aside knowing it wouldn’t do any good. Even though it was smaller than you and weak, killing it had used a lot of your energy and you were starting to feel faint. You knew you were going to have to regain some strength if you were going to walk another hour and a half until you reached the town -Fuck it- you thought reaching into your backpack for the granola bar. You struggled to even open it, using more strength than you had as you took a small bite, appreciating how it felt in your mouth, the maple syrup it was coated in feeling sweet on your tongue. It was like heroin. You chewed slowly and deliberately, savouring it as you broke up the rest of it into three parts before putting it securely into your pocket, saving it for later.

You wanted to curl up in a ball on the dirt road for a few moments, your whole body exhausted and hungry. You had no time to stop and rest as you saw another walker emerge from the trees about 40 feet away from you. It was slowly making its way towards you however it was big and you knew it could easily overpower you in your current state. You forced your feet to move, ignoring the burn in your chest. You were faster than the walkers. If I keep walking it can’t get to me. This was the mentality you adopted for the rest of the day.

You had been walking for about an hour and had put some distance between you and the now group of walkers that had gathered. There was about five of them and even though you were practically running you still looked back at every chance you got. You came across the familiar sign for the town, telling you you were half a mile off. Not long now. Then you can rest. You kept a steady pace as you sipped on your water. The town came into view on the horizon, little houses and stores all lined up. You had lost the walkers that were trailing you and you were hoping the town was as empty as it was when you had re searched it for the hundredth time the week before. You felt the familiar heeby jeebies as you made your way down the desolate street, desperately wishing you had someone with you, the loneliness getting to you. It was times like this you wish your brother was here to crack a joke. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed.

You stopped outside a house you had searched before knowing it was free of walkers. You cautiously searched the lower half of the house, checking the kitchen, living room and small bathroom making sure to check behind every door. You made your way up the staircase methodically doing the same thing in all the rooms. Once you were convinced the house was still empty you made your way to one of the bedrooms. You had to deal with your hunger straight away as it was becoming all consuming. You found the rest of your granola bar and told yourself you were only going to eat two pieces of it, saving the third but you lacked the self control and ate it all. The burn in your stomach eased a little bit as the food settled, however the panic set in as you realised you were down to no food supplies. You tried to calm yourself down by familiarising yourself with the room. You would deal with your food problem after you had rested. You had been in here before but only to search for walkers.

You tried to tell from the decor who it belonged to. The walls were a pale pink colour and were covered in band posters and fairy lights that had been strung up. The batteries were long dead but you could imagine what the room looked like with them switched on. Looking closer, you saw photos taped to the wall in a heart shaped montage. The photos were of a young girl, maybe 16/17 with all of her friends, smiling and laughing. She had blue eyes as clear as swimming pools in July and long blonde windswept hair. You instantly felt a pang of sadness for this beautiful stranger as you realised you were standing in the remnants of this girl’s life. You made your way over to the dresser and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, letting out a small gasp. Your hair was hanging loosely out of its braid and you noticed how long it had grown, well past your shoulders. Your cheekbones were sharper and your face looked hollow, devoid of any colour from your lack of food and rest. Your already pale complexion not doing you any favours. You took your hair down from it’s braid taking a moment to try and unwind all the knots. Your body desperately needed sleep and more food but you wanted to feel human again. You didn’t even recognise yourself. You opened the dresser drawer and searched around for a hairbush, finding moisturisers, hair products and perfumes and took the moment to rub some cream into your face, pretending for a brief moment that you were just a normal teenager in a normal world getting ready for school. You weren’t starving, lonely or tired, you were simply moisturising. Your skin tingled at the sensation, not used to being pampered after a year of a makeup less world. You kept searching for a brush when your hand touched smooth metal, it was a tin. You suddenly remembered your teenage years when you hid your diaries in your sock drawers and left little notes for the future you to find. This girl wouldn’t want a stranger snooping around in her things and you felt guilty for a moment, but she could have some hidden cigarettes or medical supplies. What you would give for a cigarette. You knew smoking was a horrible habit but it was your vice before all of this. Curiosity got the better of you and you hesitantly opened it, not believing what you had found. Tears of happiness threatened to spill over as your searched the small tin. It was packed full with chocolate, beef jerky, gummy candies and peanuts. You had found this strangers snack stash.

Frostheart

A chilling wind gusted through the small, snow-laden vale at dusk as the distant cold sun began to sink over the western horizon. The clouds circling overhead provided a light dusting of snow uncommon for this time of year, a harsh reminder of winter even as summer crept ever closer. In this secluded location, deep in the Alterac Mountains, a small frozen lake slept soundly beneath the unseasonable cold.

At the edge of the glacial covering, a solitary woman stood, a pale blue and purple dot that almost seemed to merge with the twilight cerulean of the lakeside snow. As Thea Redmane stood alone, she held her wedding ring in the palm of her left hand, tracing the runic markings upon the band lovingly. Tenderly.

Greedily. Hungrily.

Just three days past, she had bound her Scourged husband’s soul within the confines of the small gemstone set into the band. It had been a slow, methodical project, to fashion such a secure prison out of something so small. Long nights had passed in the confines of her study, poring over forbidden texts that she had recovered from the ruins of Dalaran. Books penned by authors whose names had long since been stricken from the histories of the magocratic order; scholars and sorcerers that delved too deeply into the depraved art of necromancy, and for their hubris, had paid the price of forfeiting all that would have been their legacy.

One name, however, remained forever etched into the memory of Dalaran, whether the mages would have it or not. One scholar whose writings, no matter how profane, could not be contained or erased. Even here, she sensed the faint echo of his passage. Leaving the order that she had once counted herself among, and some years after that, returning at the heel of his king. A faithful servant whose reward had been power beyond reckoning.

But this place, my love. This place is for you and I, now.

Thea closed her hand over the ring and turned, facing away from the lake, casting her eyes off down a large snow embankment that led through a winding mountain pass. Her gleaming yellow eyes knew this place; they had kept silent vigil over its snow-covered stones for years. A body divided from a soul. As Thea turned again, she beheld the weathered rock of a mountainside… and a great frozen waterfall. This waterfall would remain frozen perhaps eternally, for it had been made to freeze not by the weather of the world, but by the twisted magic of a death knight in pursuit of his quarry. In pursuit of her, Thea the Bright, the last act of a desperate woman as she fled the wreckage of the caravan she had been charged with protecting. She grimaced at the memory as she strode toward the ice-bound waterfall.

The remembrance of the death knight’s magic ripping her soul from her body did nothing to slow her advance as she stepped lightly across the frozen water, toward what appeared to be an empty grave dug into the densely packed ice. The ice here had been made to freeze so deeply and so thoroughly that any liquid water only existed more than several feet beneath the surface. Thea stopped as she reached the grave’s edge.

It was quite large—too large to have been dug for a human. Of course, the ice had only been sundered once, and not to place anything within the grave, but to remove its contents. Thea had not been alone that day, so many years ago, when she had perished freezing and alone. Another had followed her to the same fate, entombed in a crystalline prison of death. One called—

“Frostheart.”

The word left Thea’s mouth as if to herald the arrival of the clomping hooves that now clacked across the thick ice behind her. Slowly she turned to look upon the skeletal visage of her faithful warhorse, its tattered barding arrayed in hues of purple and blue that matched her own robes. She reached up with one hand, running her delicate fingers down the horse’s skinless, furless muzzle.

I am dying, Thea, spoke a voice from the past, that of the legendary Andromath. She closed her eyes, thinking back to that moment in the venerable archmage’s study.

You can’t die, Shal. You’re one of the most gifted archmages I know. We’ll find a cure for this sickness. Dalaran is the heart of all human learning.

The archmage had shaken his head, gesturing as if to refuse the chance at more life. I can die, and I will. I must. I have lived through so many lives of men. It has been a long life. A good life. I have learned much, and taught many. I know that I can go to my rest with nothing to regret. It must be this way.

The tears had welled up in Thea’s eyes. Even as Shal had spoken the words, she had known them to ring true; perhaps truer than anything he’d ever said to her.

Always trust in love, Thea. My brightest, my best. You are the daughter that I should have had. Alas, it was not so, but I am grateful to have instructed you. Please, do not mourn with my passing. Only smile in my memory. A warm embrace had followed, as Shal had hugged his most beloved student one final time. Look after your husband, and your niece. And keep hounding Ainsworth to finish his research. I fear that he’ll become too productive without someone to keep him grounded.

There had been a twinkle in the old man’s eye as he spoke of their mutual friend, and the two had shared a laugh through tears before the elderly man beckoned her outside to the stables. Come. There is something I must show you.

Flameheart. Thea could still hear the wonderment in her voice. Your war-steed. You cannot give me this honor. With all my heart, I don’t deserve this.

Shal had led the brilliantly white horse over by the bit as the great animal followed dutifully. The stallion’s deep, intelligent eyes had met hers with something akin to a solemn understanding. A shared sadness at the imminent departure of the man whom they both cherished so dearly.

That is why he will pass to you, dear Thea. You are my greatest achievement. Yes, even as I take credit for that which is not mine to take credit for. Greater than any spell, of more value than the most precious gems or crystals, more powerful than all of the arcane energy in the cosmos… is love. The love, the goodness that you have inside you. Never lose sight of it.

The band of the wedding ring burned coldly against Thea’s dead hand as she clutched it close to her breast. The undead horse stood beside her, studying her.

“Flameheart, you once were,” she said, bringing her face close to the skeletal muzzle. “But the fire of life is no longer within you. Just as it is not in me.” The mage whispered harshly as a cold wind blew through her hair. “Now,” she whispered, “you are Frostheart. Your heart is frozen, your blood still. Just… like… mine.” Slowly she kissed the grey, bony muzzle.

Thea looked down at her palm again, and then slipped the wedding ring onto her finger as she studied it, tracing the runes once more. She smiled darkly.

“Thea the Bright,” she said, climbing atop the horse’s back, turning the reins toward the pass which led north, through the Plaguelands and back to the Undercity. “So I was called, once.”

She looked down at her ring again. Inside, the soul of her husband writhed and twisted restlessly. The mage leaned down to speak to it, as if the man trapped within could hear her. “Do not fret, my love. I will find you a body. Very soon, we will hold each other once more. And none shall separate us—not now, not then, not ever again.”

Thea looked up, speaking to Frostheart. “Yes, Thea the Bright I was, but am no longer.” A twisted, determined smile bloomed upon her dead, immaculately preserved face. “I am Thea the Damned. Who has loved as greatly as I have? Who could even begin to imagine all I have endured? Woe to they that stand in my way, and woe to those who oppose me.”