#i am HOPING for elegant i may end up with nonsense | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lessons 18-20

Series Masterlist

T-the season finale… *sniffle* it’s been a wild ride y’all… I’ve never actually written and stuck through with something for so long, so this is a real achievement for me! I really hope you guys have enjoyed this completely weird fluffy/angsty/mildly crackhead adventure! Please enjoy the last part!

All is well, the family is back together, everyone’s fine, the school year is almost over-

Wait, the school year is almost over?

Upon realizing that, everyone settled into a state of mild panic.

MC couldn’t just leave, they were part of the family! An integral part! They were the only thing keeping everyone from murdering each other during family game night!

As for Lucifer’s personal feelings on the matter, things were… tough.

When the exchange program was announced, Lucifer expected it to end like most of Diavolo’s ideas: annoying to clean up, it certainly couldn’t have ended worse than when he and the Crown Prince ended up getting cursed to hold hands for 25 hours straight. What Lucifer didn’t expect was for a child he didn’t even know he had to end up as the human exchange student and for his entire life to be thrown out of whack. That child of his was busy finishing up their final paper of the year.

“Hey, father,” MC looked up from their paper with a cheeky smile. “Do you think that the next exchange student will be as fun as me?”

“I sincerely hope not.” Lucifer sighed, continuing to sift through his paperwork on his desk. “Your kind of ‘excitement’ has completely worn me out.”

“Aw,” MC giggled, then went back to work. “So you don’t want me to stay here then?”

Lucifer stiffened and looked up from his paperwork. “Don’t put words in my mouth, MC.”

“So you do want me to stay. Interesting~” MC said as they began to sweep the eraser shavings off their paper. “Well, if you want me to stay so badly, you could have just asked.”

“P-pardon?” Lucifer blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “You want to stay?”

“Since you’d be so sad without me, I guess I just have to don’t I?” MC stood suddenly and slapped their finished essay on Lucifer’s desk. “The sacrifices I make for this family, I swear!”

We stand with you, MC, sacrifice your sanity for your weird-ass familia.

Anyway, Lucifer was thrilled that MC wanted to stay with him in the Devildom, the problem was… MC’s other parent may not have been too keen to just give up their baby.

You know, the demon child they raised all by themselves, with no help from Lucifer because he didn’t know MC existed…

Someone get MC’s ren on the phone! Stat!

“Alright dear little brothers of mine, listen closely because I’m not repeating this.” Lucifer looked over the living room couches at the other six rulers of hell. Belphie was sprawled out on one of the couches and was drooling all over Beel’s lap, Satan was making a point to look as disinterested as possible and kept sneaking glances at the book he was holding, and Mammon was wrestling Levi dangerously close to where Asmo was filing his nails.

Sighing in defeat, Lucifer continued. If any of his brothers misbehaved he couldn’t say he didn’t warn them. “MC‘s parent will be coming to visit.”

Everyone’s attention snapped to Lucifer. Wonderful.

“They’ll be staying for a few days and will decide if it’s in MC’s best interest to primarily stay in the Devildom from now on.”

Asmodeus slowly raised a hand. “Luciiiiiiferrrr!”

“Asmo, is your question overly personal in nature?”

The Avatar of lust brought a manicured nail to his cheek and daintily tapped it. “Mmm… I don’t think so.”

“Ask.”

“How long were you and MC’s parent dating for? Won’t it be awkward to be around your ex?”

Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face. “It was a one night thing.”

“Really?” Asmo knitted his eyebrows in confusion. “It wasn’t a long drawn out forbidden romance? You must have had some Olympic swimmers down there!”

“Okay!” Lucifer clapped his hands. “Add that to the list of things Asmo is not allowed to say.”

“We have to take something off the list then…” Beel said through handfuls of chips. “The list’s full.”

“Fine,” Lucifer grumbled. “He can say [CENSORED] again.”

“Yippee! [CENSORED] [CENSORED] [CENSORED]”

The group collectively groaned as Asmo continued to spout his profane nonsense.

“What did I just walk in on..?” MC stood in the doorway to the living room, still in their PJs.

“Oh, MC, your parent’s coming over to stay for a few days.” Lucifer quickly explained.

MC’s face morphed from confusion to horror. “What does that have to do with [CENSORED]?!”

This house is a FUCKING NIGHTMARE-

Anyway, after the initial confusion/horror, MC got really excited and rushed off to get ready. Meanwhile, the boys solemnly swore that they would be on their best behaviour!

Everyone needed to convince MC’s parent that everything in the Devildom was perfectly safe and that their little hellspawn was in good responsible hands.

Mammon tried to come up with a plan in case MC wasn’t allowed to stay with them, and let’s just say it involved kidnapping. But like- a chill kind of kidnapping where MC would be totally fine.

This idea was immediately shot down in favour of Beel’s plan B.

Beel would just… eat MC’s parent. No biggie, right?

Lucifer shot that one down the moment he heard it.

The only accepted plan for if MC wasn’t allowed to stay was just letting them go. They’d visit the Devildom. A lot. Many visits would be necessary.

So, the hour of MC’s ren’s arrival had come, and the student council assembled to greet them.

Greet the human. The completely non magical human. Greet them and then let them see the Devildom…

Was this exchange program really that good of an idea..?

MC frantically attempted to do some last minute fixes to their hair as they sat themselves down in their seat in the Assembly Hall. Ugh… stupid hair…

“Why are you so nervous?” Satan asked. “Is our visitor a neat freak basket case?”

“No!” MC huffed. “They’re not! I’m just making myself presentable so they don’t think I’ve gone completely feral down here.”

“Well, feral no, crazy, yes. Have you seen yourself lately?” Belphie snickered.

“SHUT UP BELPHIE.”

“Would you all be quiet?” Lucifer snapped. “You’re all acting like children.”

“I am a child.” MC snapped back. “What’s Belphie’s excuse?”

Belphie’s retort was cut off by the portal opening and a figure leisurely floating to the ground. They had an open parasol in their right hand that seemed to be aiding their gentle descent, and a large container full of what smelled like cookies tucked into their left side. The moment their toes touched the floor, the human gracefully closed their parasol and gave the assembled demons a sparkling smile and a polite bow.

“Thank you for allowing me the honour to visit,” the human’s voice was as soft and sweet as Cotton candy. “It’s a pleasure to officially meet the princes of hell themselves.”

:D yay!

After floating down from the sky like Mary Poppins, MC lost all sense of propriety and ran over to tackle their ren into a hug. It was that kind of thing where you really miss someone but you don’t realize exactly how much until you get to see them again.

Lucifer was, of course, the picture of elegance and “this isn’t awkward at all”-ness.

MC’s parent didn’t even seem to be all that concerned with the fact that their baby daddy was, y'know, LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR. THE MOST POMPOUS FUCKWAD IN THE DEVILDOM.

Please don’t tell him I said that, he’s still mad about the Go Fund Me…

MC was absolutely ecstatic to finally show their parent how much they’ve grown in terms of their demonic powers and all the friends they had made, but MC’s ren was more concerned with how much they had grown in terms of their height.

“You’re just so tall now,” MC’s ren giggled as they fixed their child’s hair. “You’ll get things off of shelves for me, won’t you?”

“Yeah yeah,” MC said, rolling their eyes good naturedly. “Like you can’t reach anything in your kitchen.”

“Okay,” Mammon, Satan, Levi, Belphie, and Beel were lagging behind Lucifer, MC, their parent, and Diavolo. “Change of plans, we ain’t eatin’ ‘em, we’re keepin’ ‘em.”

“We were never going to eat them in the first place, idiot.” Satan sneered. “And what’s with the change of tune? You were ready to wage war on the human world fifteen minutes ago.”

“…cookies happened.” Mammon mumbled. He had only gotten one of the human’s totally amazing offerings before Beel proceeded to eat everything. The cookie was perfect… so delicious…

“I say we keep the human.” Beel put a hand on his stomach. “I want more human world cookies.”

“They’re so cute too…” Asmo cooed. “A solid 10/10, and that’s such a rare ranking coming from the only 20/10 in existence!”

“Asmo, your vanity never ceases to make me want to roll over and-” Belphie’s insult was interrupted by him passing out and letting out a cartoonishly loud snore. It was a good thing Beel was able to quickly catch and throw Belphie over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

“Asmo has a point, they’re just so totally moe! Kawaii to the highest degree! That parasol, the homemade cookies, it’s just like something from a slice of life anime!” Levi squee-ed.

“So it’s settled, we treat ‘em nice, then we get ‘em to stay.” Mammon nodded to the rest of his brothers, who for the first time in the Demon King knows how long, his little brothers nodded back in full seriousness. They were actually doing a Mammon plan! Holy shit!

So, the brothers liked MC’s ren, what about Diavolo and Barbatos?

Well, MC’s ren had heard all about Barbatos’ amazing cooking from MC and Barb’s totally outstanding reputation, so the two got along swimmingly.

Dia. Loved. That. Human. They’re cute???? They’re sweet???? They brought COOKIES???! They don’t seem to be afraid of him at all????? Please be the exchange student next year :D

Oh yeah… he made a rule that said they couldn’t summon someone with kids… it would be cruel to rip a parent away from their child…

But apparently not a child away from their parent cough cough

Other than the uncle squad, MC’s ren got to meet the Purgatory Hall gang too!

MC was being just the most adorable tour guide, but that didn’t stop Lucifer from having a miniature heart attack any time a demon even looked at MC’s parent the wrong way. If MC’s ren got attacked or felt threatened in any way shape or form, he could say bye bye to his time with the one person in the HOL that didn’t live to make him pop a forehead vein. The human seemed outwardly unconcerned with any Devildom oddness and was amicably chatting with Diavolo while MC pulled them from place to place.

“And that’s Hell’s Kitchen, they have good sandwiches, and that’s Madame Scream’s, they have really good macarons.” MC helpfully pointed out the places as they passed them.

A much to familiar trio of voices called out from down the street. Father dammit, why were they here..?

“Hello Lucifer, what are you all up too?” Ugh… Simeon…

“From the sight of the rest of your brothers skulking about, it appears like they’re acting as bodyguards.” Solomon…

“MC? Who’s that?”

Oh good grief… that nasally little voice… the chihuahua was near… Now… Lucifer was a respectable demon… respectable demons don’t tease children in front of the parent of their child…

“Hello chihuahua.”

DAMN IT HE COULDN’T HELP HIMSELF!

“I’m not a chihuahua you demon!” Luke yapped.

MC’s parent daintily tilted their head and looked over at MC. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

“Right, Luke, this is my ren, ren, this is a chihuahua.” MC grinned cheekily as they gestured between the two. Lucifer suppressed a laugh which resulted in a very ugly snort. It was a good thing the sound was drowned out by Luke’s exclamations of betrayal.

The chorus of “how could you?!”s and “I thought you were over that awful nickname!”s was put to an abrupt halt when the visiting human elegantly offered a handshake to the fuming angel.

“MC spoke very highly of you,” they chirped. “It’s very nice to meet you, Luke.”

Luke blinked a few times, then quickly straightened his posture, adjusted his hat, then shook MC’s ren’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“That’s Simeon.” MC jerked a thumb in Simeon’s direction. “And that’s Solomon.”

“Luke got a whole introduction and we get that? Come on MC, I thought we were friends.” Solomon fake pouted at MC after giving a polite nod to MC’s parent.

“We stopped being friends after one of the potions you had me test out turned me into a-” as quick as lighting, Mammon had shoved his hand into MC’s face.

“A-ah, MC’s rememberin’ stuff wrong, nothin’ potion related happened to ‘em. Right, Solomon???!”

Taking the hint from Mammon, Solomon smiled and nodded. “Nope, nothing related to turning MC into a frog for a few hours.”

“Hm, well I’m quite happy that absolutely nothing frog transformation related happened.” MC’s parent said.

“Yeah, must’ve hit their head on somethin- YEEEOW!” MC had bitten down on Mammon’s hand and slapped it away from them.

“I did not hit my head on anything!”

“Yeah,” Beel nodded. “Nothing’s hit them since the Fangol ball.”

“The what ball?” MC’s ren asked.

“The Fangol ball that hit MC a few months back and broke their glasses.” Five of the brothers slapped their hands to their foreheads.

“Oh my…”

“Eh,” MC patted their ren on the arm. “That’s nothing compared to the giant snake at the retreat.”

“Oh! Do you mind letting me tell that story, MC?”

Lucifer was frantically signalling for Diavolo to stop talking but the crown prince was already beginning his retelling of the events. Luke would chime in with an anecdote from an even worse misadventure the two had gone out on every once and a while. This… this wasn’t going well at all…

MC’s ren was… weirdly chill about the whole thing…

“Oh, it’s so nice that you’re having fun, sweetheart. That reminds me of when I was young and your aunt Clytemnestra and I would go out and have adventures.” “Really? You went on weird adventures too?” “…what kind of adventures could possibly compare to being chased by a giant snake in an underground labyrinth..?”

The side characters ended up needing to abscond for various reasons and all that was left was the brothers, MC, and MC’s parent.

They made it to the HOL without issue, which is when Lucifer remembered that he did not put all the cursed objects out of reach… shit.

“Asmo… Asmo!” “What is it?” “Take MC’s ren out of the house in half an hour, keep them occupied in the living room!” “What? Why?” “I need more time to human-proof the house! Distract them, but no funny business!” “Dear brother, for the first time in a very long time funny business is the second thing on my mind! Wait… no, it’s the third… what have I become..?”

Asmo and Satan, super graciously by the way, led MC and their ren to the living room to distract- I mean entertain them for a bit!

Lucifer and the rest of the gang got to work moving certain things around and closing certain doors- shit where was Cerberus?! Did Lucifer forget to walk him that morning?!

So much to dooooooo…

So maybe bringing a human into Majolish and letting them roam around unsupervised wasn’t the best idea Satan and Asmo had, but it sure as heck was an idea. MC looked through shelves of hairpins and bracelets while their ren disappeared around a corner to look at scarves.

“We’re doing such a great job babysitting!” Asmo clapped his hands. “If MC had just been a normal human I bet they’d last the entire year under our care.”

“Hm, you might be right.” Satan smiled and nodded. “Humans are surprisingly entertaining.”

“Yes… speaking of, where exactly is the human?”

The sudden sound of metal slamming against flesh and the delayed sound of something incredibly heavy hitting the floor jolted Asmo and Satan from their conversation.

“Honestly, some people have no fucking manners!”

It was such a different voice than what Satan and Asmo were used to that the only thing that tipped them off to it being MC’s ren was the fact that MC began to giggle. MC’s ren stepped back into view carrying a metal staff that quickly transformed back to their parasol.

Asmo and Satan rushed over to check if their defenceless little human guest was okay, only to find some lesser demon passed out on the floor with an incredibly nasty bump on the side of their head.

“I’ve heard that humans are apparently quite delicious to demons but I didn’t expect someone to actually try and eat me.”

“I-um…” Satan sputtered, looking from Asmo to MC’s parent. “We’re uh…”

“You alright, ren?” MC called from over by the bracelet shelves.

“Yes, I’m alright.” MC’s ren gave the fourth and fifth born a calming smile. “No harm done, well, except to that poor bastard. I do hope I haven’t killed him… that would be such a nasty thing for the poor sales associates to find.”

Okay so maybe the defenceless human wasn’t so defenceless. That was a good thing… right?

“So where exactly did you manage to get your hands on such a weapon..?” “Ah, I come from a family of witches. This was a college graduation present.”

…doit doit seems legit.

The four made it back home just in time, Lucifer and the others had finished human proofing the house.

Yay!

The house tour went by smoothly, everything was all well and good until Beel and Belphie asked MC’s ren to make more cookies.

Oh god dammit the human said they would.

“Oh Beel, you shouldn’t eat the cookie dough raw… the eggs and raw flour will make you sick!” “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. Besides, it’s best not to interrupt Beel while he’s eating.” “Yeah it might end like the custard incident.” “Custard… incident?” “MC and Mammon ate my custard and I ended up breaking the wall that connected to MC’s room.” “Hunger tantrums, am I right?”

After that it was Mammon and Levi’s turn to babysit. It went about as well as you’d think.

Levi explained some anime plot in an attempt to make it seem like the Devildom was totally safe and that MC and their ren could stay forever no problem, while Mammon desperately suppressed the urge to swipe the cool parasol.

Finally, it was time for the verdict. Would MC be allowed to stay in the Devildom..? Or would they go back to the human world..?

“Lucifer?”

The demon in question looked up from his paperwork and tried to nod in the most casual way possible. MC’d ren was standing in the doorway, Lucifer must have missed their knock. “Yes? Do you need something?”

MC’s ren smiled and nodded. “It’s about MC��s living situation going forward.”

Lucifer stiffened and got up from his desk. “Y-yes… what about it?”

“MC has expressed that they want to stay here full time with frequent visits to the human world.” The softness that their voice had earlier in the day was completely absent as the human stepped forward into the study and closed the door behind them. “I want to know what you think about that.”

“Well,” Lucifer cleared his throat and tried to shake off the stupid sense of nervousness that had wrapped itself around him. A weak little human’s decision should not make him so anxious! “I would like for MC to stay here as well, I think it would be best for them.”

The human raised an eyebrow and twirled their parasol in their hand. “Really now? In your year with them you truly believe you know what’s best for them?”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. I do.”

MC’s ren went quiet for a few seconds before replying. “I see.”

“And that means..?”

“I knew this day would come, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon.” MC’s ren sighed, and for the first time all day, they actually let their exhaustion show. “I raised MC knowing that one day they’d end up in the Devildom. They’ve told me over and over again how much they like it down here…” the human took a deep breath and slowly shook their head. “If this is what they want… then I give my permission for them to stay with you.”

A wave of relief swept over Lucifer as he finally took a breath. “Thank you.”

“Mm… I’m going to have to use my favour though.”

The relief completely vanished as the Avatar of Pride’s blood ran cold. Memories flooded back from the one night the pair had spent together, the human had offered a cursed record to him that he had spent decades trying to find, in exchange, Lucifer let them have one favour. A favour from a demon was like a single pact order, Lucifer had to do literally anything this human wanted.

“Protect MC, even if it costs you your life.” The human’s words were careful and measured as Lucifer felt the order sink in. “You’ll do that for them, right Lucifer?”

Lucifer nodded as life flooded back into his limbs. “I would have done it without the order.”

So, the brother’s plan to make MC’s ren stay forever failed because they were going back to the human world with MC for summer vacation. Listen, it was needed, MC needed to see the sun lest they shrivel like a sad houseplant.

At least Lucifer technically had primary custody of his little heathen! Victory!

MC said their goodbyes to the friends they had made over the year as they prepared to leave for the next two months, it was filled with so many bone-crushing hugs that MC was surprised that their spine didn’t snap.

MC and Luke had lagged behind the much larger group as they made their way to the assembly hall. MC’s ren was dazzling the miniature crowd with stories of just how adorable MC was as a little kid. The half demon rolled their eyes and silently mourned the loss of any cool points they had gained over the year. Their little companion was oddly quiet, MC lightly nudged him and smiled.

“Aren’t you happy to be going home? You’ve been griping about being stuck down here the entire year. Don’t tell me you’re getting sappy, Luke.”

Luke puffed his cheek out and crossed his arms. “Of course I’m happy to be leaving, the Celestial Realm is the best place ever, the Devildom is completely terrible in every way.”

MC smirked and rolled their eyes again. Just let the little guy go on his rant…

“But… I am going to miss you…” Luke mumbled, MC’s eyebrows shot upwards as they turned their head to look at him. “Th-thanks for being my friend down here… MC. You’re… you’re really nice.”

To their absolute horror, MC felt a lump form in their throat. Oh dear Grandfather… the chihuahua was what broke them?! They quickly looked around to see if anyone was paying attention, then quickly pulled Luke into a hug. The hug was over as fast as it began, but it seemed that Luke didn’t particularly care and was more shocked at the sudden bout of affection.

“If anyone, and I mean anyone asks, I didn’t hug you.” MC murmured, quickly swiping at their eyes.

Luke nodded, a small smile spread across his face. “Got it!”

So the side characters left… *sniffle* everything’s okay… the DDDs work in any of the realms… they could still talk.

Soon, it was time for the final sets of goodbyes…

“Come on, Bean, we’re going to the human world!” MC tried to take the cat from Satan, who didn’t move a muscle.

“If you think you’re taking the cat from here, you’re delusional.” Satan’s smile didn’t leave his face, but the force behind his words was almost enough to make MC back off. Almost…

“My caaaaaat!” MC whined, they ended up getting lightly pushed away by Satan.

“Remember, the summer’s a good time to catch up on anime!” Levi advised. “There’s 24 hours in a day, and an average anime episode is 22 minutes long, you have loads of time!”

“I’ll keep up with my anime only if you promise to listen to the Death Note musical, Levi.” MC giggled and patted Levi on the shoulder.

“Remember MC, take care of your cuticles and your skin.” Asmo took MC’s hand and checked their fingernails. “They were an absolute mess before you got here, so I expect you to keep up your routines this summer!”

“Yeeeeeeeeeeees siiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrr.”

“Bye MC,” Beel handed MC a half opened cup of custard. “I almost ate it, but I didn’t. Make sure you don’t skip any meals this summer.

MC jumped up and gave Beel a quick hug. “Thanks Beel! I’ll be sure to enjoy the custard!”

“Bye, MC. See you next year.” Belphie stood awkwardly stiff, not exactly sure what to do. MC pursed their lips, then quickly wrapped him up in a hug.

“Bye Belphie, I hope all your pillow forts are structurally unsound.”

The avatar of sloth snickered and rested his head on MC’s. “I hope you get really comfortable and are fully ready to go to sleep, then realize you have to pee.”

MC gasped in fake offence and swatted Belphie on the arm.

Mammon put both his hands on MC’s shoulders, his face unusually serious. “Do ya remember what the great Mammon took painstakin’ effort to teach ya?”

“Payday loans are scams, witches are scary, bowline knots are the easiest to undo, don’t wear reflective sunglasses to a poker game aaaaaaaand…” MC grinned mischievously. “Any plan thought up by the Great Mammon should be subject to intense revision.”

“That’s ri- hey!” Mammon laughed and shoved MC towards Lucifer.

MC looked up at Lucifer, the pride demon looked down at them fondly. He reached out and gently ruffled their hair. “I’ll see you next year, MC.”

“Y-yeah…”

Lucifer crouched down slightly to get to their level and gave MC a smile. “I’m very proud of you, you’ve been an immense help this year. Thank you for everything.”

“Thanks for not being a stereotypical supervillain dad, father.” MC smiled softly and fixed their glasses. “Loveyoubye!”

MC turned and rushed to their ren’s side as Lucifer let out a soft chuckle.

“I love you too, MC.”

As Barbatos readied the portal to send the pair to the human world, MC couldn’t wipe the grin off their face. Geez, if this year was a metric mess of fun and insanity… what was the next year going to be like? The half demon’s grin morphed into a bit of a smirk. No way in hell their next year in the Devildom was going to be as insane as their first year.

MC almost giggled as they gave their family one last wave. That wasn’t the time to think about the future, besides, MC knew that it would take two insane chaotic humans to be summoned into the Devildom to even come close to the chaos MC managed to create, both on purpose and by accident.

And what were the odds of that happening?

——————

Authors Note: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ITS DONE SEASON ONE IS DONE!

I wasn’t able to fit the Anti Lucifer League stuff into this one, I’ll put it in a separate fic later!

I NOW NEED TO WORK ON GETTING THROUGH SEASON 2 IN THE ACTUAL GAME. To get mildly serious for a second, thanks to everyone who has stuck around to listen to me spout my fic-y nonsense, you all are nerds (affectionate) and I love you.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #Obey me Headcanons #Obey me fic #Obey me! Headcanons #Obey me MC #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #obey me beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor #obey me leviathan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Satan #Obey me Luke

195 notes · View notes

fictionadventurer · 3 years

Text

So Strong as Gentleness; Or, Powers and Prejudice 2/?

Chapter 2: Immovable Object

For generations, the Bingleys had been the staunchest allies of the city’s superhumans, and the current generation had lived up to the family legacy. It was commonly conjectured that Charles Bingley himself numbered among the city’s masked superheroes--that he was the alter ego of the Storm King or the Nighthawk or the Blur--but it was just as commonly argued that this would unite too many blessings in a single man. Charles Bingley was good-looking and gentleman-like; he had a pleasant countenance and easy, unaffected manners. He united personal fortune with personal charm, and he had no need of superhuman talents to make him one of the city’s most extraordinary citizens.

It was with great astonishment that Jane noted his presence at Bingley Enterprise’s headquarters when she and Lizzie arrived at the recruitment event. The crowd was vast, but Mr. Bingley darted through with astonishing speed, shaking hands with everyone, delighted by the day and pleased by all in attendance. Though the strictures of the event required Jane to spend most of her time filling out forms and conducting interviews with middle management, she received a moment’s attention from the man himself. He approached her just as she was departing from an informational table, offered a handshake, and desired to know her opinion of the event, her occupational and educational history, her opinion of Netherfield, her favorite popular musicians, and if she had noticed the heavily laden refreshment table in the main lobby. Jane provided all the information desired and was surprised to find Charles Bingley genuinely interested in the answers. A few moments of conversation left her convinced that Charles Bingley was all that a young man ought to be--sensible, good-humored, lively. She had never seen such happy manners--so much ease, with such perfect good breeding.

It was not until she caught sight of Lizzie--reapproaching her after they’d been separated by the crowd--that Jane remembered their mother’s purpose in sending them to the event. But by this point, Mr. Bingley was already being pulled away from the conference.

In the course of the day, Mr. Bingley had gained a shadow--a tall, dark-haired young man who was as aloof and elegant as one expected the heir to a corporation to be. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was head of a Pemberley corporation, with fortune and fame for such that eclipsed the Bingley reputation. He rarely left the city of Pemberley, and Jane could not fathom why a Bingley event had drawn him away from his own business concerns.

It seemed that Mr. Darcy had similar questions for Bingley, because after Darcy had pulled him a few steps away, Jane overheard him scolding his friend. “You shouldn’t waste your time with this nonsense.”

“Nonsense? Darcy, you know as well as I do that vetting future hires is a prime security concern.”

“You are socializing when you’re needed elsewhere.”

“Caroline has it well in hand. If my help is needed, I can rush to the rescue, but until then, my time is as well spent here as anywhere. Bingley Enterprises is a powerful force for good in this city.”

“Not as powerful as some.”

“Don’t force me to modesty, Darcy. I know our organization is primitive compared to what you have in Pemberley, but our strategies are effective for Netherfield, and if you could just trust...”

It was at this point that the two men moved too far away from Jane for her to hear any more of their conversation. Turning to her sister, she asked, “What do you make of that, Lizzie?” Her sister had undoubtedly overheard the same conversation--perhaps was hearing it still, as her senses retained some of their animal acuteness even in human form.

“Is it not obvious?” Lizzie said with a laugh. “It appears our company is not exalted enough for the grand Mr. Darcy. In the heights of his villainy, he has deprived you of a charming conversational partner and destroyed your chances of personal happiness.”

Jane sighed. “Mother will be disappointed. I made no mention of--”

“This has nothing to do with our mother. I was speaking of your obvious infatuation with a certain philanthropist.”

Jane had, from a young age, trained herself out of all outward displays of emotion--a necessary habit when any physical outburst had the potential to tear down walls--and she was proud that she did not so much as blush in response to Lizzie’s insinuation. “He is very charming. But I do not think five minutes of conversation is enough for you to pin all my happiness upon him.” She watched the two men disappear further into the crowd. "Perhaps, if my application is accepted, we can renew our acquaintance, but I have have lost my chance today.”

In this, Jane soon found herself mistaken. As the event was ending and Jane and Lizzie were exiting through the revolving doors of Bingley Enterprise’s main lobby, she found their compartment suddenly shared by a third person, who was none other than Charles Bingley himself.

“Miss Bennet,” he said. “I am glad to have found you. I wished to apologize for my abrupt departure from our earlier conversation.”

Jane found herself stunned by more than the sunlight as they emerged onto the sidewalk outside. “No apology is necessary. I understand you have many other concerns.”

“That is no excuse for uncivility,” Bingley said, “Though Darcy would argue otherwise. He is always telling me to devote my time to more serious matters, but I say it is always worthwhile to be on friendly terms with our neighbors.”

Lizzie said, “It seems Mr. Darcy is uncommonly conceited.”

“No better man in the world!” Bingley said, rising to a good-hearted defense of his friend. “Only too apt to take the weight of the world on his shoulders and demand that I carry the same burden. I dare say he has a point, but one can better do good in the world by knowing the people within it.”

“A sensible philosophy,” Jane said.

“And apt to make you much more popular with us common citizens,” Lizzie said.

“No one is common,” Bingley said, “especially in Netherfield.”

Jane was struck by the fear that he was about to realize just how true that statement was. For Lizzie’s attention was suddenly riveted to the bank across the street, and her pupils had already turned to cat-like slits.

“What is it, Lizzie?” Jane asked, hoping by conversation to keep her sister tethered to her human form. Lizzie had gained a great amount of control over her transformations, but the jaguar was likely to emerge unbidden in moments of danger. Lizzie had never transformed in so large a crowd before, and Jane did not know, in the case of disaster, if the jaguar could distinguish threats from innocent bystanders.

“Something is happening,” Lizzie said. “At the bank. I think there might be--”

Her words were drowned out by the explosion. The facade of the bank erupted into flame, and debris was headed in their direction. Jane tried to position herself as a shield to Mr. Bingley and Lizzie, but the sudden movement left her off-balance and falling.

Before she could right herself--before she could even see the results of the explosion--Jane suddenly found herself standing in an alleyway two blocks distant from Netherfield Enterprises. Mr. Bingley was at her side, bent over to catch his breath, with the blue half-mask of the Blur half-pulled over his face.

“Mr. Bingley?”

The man turned away, shielding his face with his hand. “You weren’t supposed to see--I’m usually gone by now, but you--you’re heavier than you look.”

Most other girls, perhaps, would have been offended by such comments, but Jane was merely impressed that he had moved her at all. If she hadn’t been falling, he wouldn’t have managed it--she had been told that trying to move her from where she was standing was like running face-first into a steel girder.

“What’s happening?” she asked, helping Mr. Bingley to straighten his skewed mask. The daughters of Mrs. Bennet knew that there was nothing so important to the average hero than the secret of their identity.

“Heist of some kind,” Bingley said. “We thought there might be villain movement today, but didn’t think they’d strike so close to the Enterprises building.”

“We have to go back!” Jane shouted, dashing out of the alley. “Lizzie!” There was no doubt that the jaguar was loose, and Jane was best able to keep her sister in control of her humanity.

“Wait!” he shouted in alarm. “I can go back to help her, but you mustn’t endanger yourself.”

Jane continued another city block, unheeding. She could see the bank now, chaos erupting as crowds fled from the disaster. From the destroyed facade, some variety of spidery, villainous robot had emerged, tossing aside people and vehicles that hindered its attempts at escape.

“Miss Bennet, please!” Bingley was at her side, apparently attempting the same rescue he’d completed moments before, but unable to budge her an inch.

“Help them!” Jane said. “I’ll be fine!”

At that moment, the rampaging robot picked up a green sedan and tossed it over the crowd, directly toward Jane’s position. Jane lifted both arms and caught the car by its front bumper. She held it aloft until she was certain the sidewalk before her was clear of bystanders, then she set it lightly on the ground.

She turned around to see the Blur, Netherfield’s most famous speedster, standing motionless, his jaw slack.

“I see,” he said, gathering his composure. He stepped toward her. “I must apologize. It appears you were not in want of a rescue. But if I may ask, are you in possession of a good mask?”

#adventures in writing #so strong as gentleness #powers and prejudice #pride and prejudice #superheroes #jane/bingley #jane austen #pride and prejudice superhero au #here it is!#for what it's worth #which is admittedly not much but hopefully it's a little fun?#the bingley rescues civilian jane is probably a textbook darling in need of killing #because i had to invent this vague and implausible scenario to get civilian jane in bingley's presence #but it's still a fun scene and i can do what i want with this story #this story is an exercise in writing garbage #i am purposely releasing short segments without anything but the lightest of line editing so i'm forced to keep moving forward #if i hadn't been doing that i probably would have already rewritten that opening segment in different styles at least three more times #it's certainly a choice and i'm having fun with it #but as you can see the austen style is probably going to have to relax as we get more overtly superhero-y scenes

51 notes · View notes

phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

The MILFnevka AU

Once again something that was brainstormed en masse on the GG fanworks server.

I was... very much spearheading this one, but I dragged in @professorsparklepants for a lot, because Anevka, as well as input from @fenerismoon, @purronronner, @gelpenss, and @whirlibird. The original conversation took place mid-September of 2019.

AU where Tarvek's side of the family squeezed in an extra generation or so.

Aaronev was still Lu's generation, but he had Anevka young, and she was an only child who was already an adult by the time Lu disappeared. As a result, Aaronev let her married before she ended up in the machine (because he wasn’t desperate yet), and he couldn't risk drawing the attention by the time Agatha’s gen is being born.

So instead of being Tarvek's SISTER, she's his MOM.

Anevka formed her own faction, separate from the Aaronev and vaguely aligned with Terabithia’s.

She insisted Martellus and his branch hang out with Tarvek because being an only child is lonely, and also it keeps Tarvek out of his grandfather's sights and vague plans of body-hopping.

She is a Protective Momma who is a little TOO down with murdering anyone who threatens her child.

Agatha: you're just going to listen to your evil mom? Because no offense but that's worked out really bad for me so far. Tarvek: She's not EVIL, just... Valois... anyway the Baron knows what she's like and mostly he just rolls his eyes and tries to keep her away from Queen DuPree.

Anevka is definitely the mom that uses her position as mother of the king/heir to stockpile as much power as possible and control everything behind the scenes. Tarvek is currently trying to undermine this and wrestle back control as secretly as possible.

Wine mom with eighty hidden stabbing implements.

When Agatha is discovered, Anevka still kills her dad, but it's not like she can steal Agatha's voice in this AU, so she just settles for aggressively matchmaking her with Tarvek.

Anevka's managed to rein her dad in, mostly, because she's a powerful spark with an Undefined Husband who nonetheless has enough good connections to cause a ruckus if he finds out about the Summoning Throne, and he's too sparky to wasp.

This did lead to his early death and no siblings for Tarvek, but not before Anevka managed to fight her dad down to ONLY trying to throne the girls who were legitimately likely to be Agatha.

And then Agatha's in Sturmhalten and Anevka's just like. Well. Time for plan A. And kills her dad.

Regarding Gil... She kinda wants to pat him on the head and tell him to try harder.

I'm not wholly convinced Tarvek got kicked off of Castle Wulfenbach, depending on how Anevka married and decided to approach things. She might have warned Tarvek to AVOID stealing information, even, if she was worried about Aaronev trying to do something.

Less "do whatever you can to help us gain power" and more "do whatever you can to stay out of Sturmhalten."

Tarvek: My mom is a bitch and I love her so much

Klaus hates it when Anevka comes to CW because she acts like some unholy cross between Lucrezia, Terabithia, and Zantabraxus and she keeps hitting on his top enforcers but with knives and pretty dresses.

Unstoppable Divorce energies

Anevka: Do you like my new dress? Klaus: Your bodice is far too low cut, please stop visiting me dressed like my ex. I'm the same age as your father. Anevka: I know, it's really fun to watch you suffer as you fail to resist the urge to tell me to put on a sweater.

Tarvek: MOTHER YOU'RE EMBARRASSING ME IN FRONT OF ALL MY FRIENDS PLEASE STOP HITTING ON THE BARON AURGH. Anevka: I'm not HITTING on him, I'm trying to make his face turn puce. Anevka: I am, however, hitting on Von Pinn. She looks like she knows how to have fun. Tarvek: MOTHER.

Tarvek, to Gil: the baron can't be your dad, he's old enough to be your grandfather. Gil: He’s at a solid age for both.

Anevka and Klaus have zero actual attraction to each other but there's definitely A Dynamic that's eerily reminiscent of his relationship with Bang, with slightly less "I did a violence, be proud of me" and slightly more "I did a sexy and/or politics, be proud of me."

Tarvek: I have a problem. Gil: What's up? Tarvek: All of our friends want to fuck my mom. Zulenna: I don't. Tarvek: That's because she used to put you in time-out when we were five.

Anevka is prime Dangerous Widow material. She didn't actually kill her husband but a hell of a lot of people think she did.

Seffie thinks her Auntie 'Nevka is the COOLEST

Anevka having an intermittent fling with that "darlingly stupid young hero, Tryggvassen" makes me laugh way too hard and also dips into my nonsense love of Otharnevka.

At one point we did sidle over into “what if Single Father KB tho”

Like they met at some point on vacation while the kids were still kids, which does lose us the “Anevka aggressively ships her kid with Agatha” thing, so I’m not sticking with this but there’s some hella fun tidbits.

Anevka: Guess what. Klaus, very tired: What. Anevka: I'm getting married. Klaus: Again? Good for you. I hope this one lives longer. Anevka: He has the same name as you. Klaus: Get out of my house.

KB isn't a widower, things are just complicated and everyone blames Lu. There's time travel involved, of course.

"So your daughter--" "Sister." "...how--" "Just... just blame my mother."

He's LEGALLY Agatha's dad, maybe? Their dynamic is parent-child. Just, you know, as far as blood goes...

Anevka wants KB to help her bag Othar again. KB thinks she means finally killing him. Anevka: I might. Haven't decided yet.

Overall, though, including KB is too complicated without undermining the entire premise I want. Which is mostly canon but Anevka is Tarvek's embarrassing, mysterious, prone-to-assassination mother.

Seriously though, the entire attraction here is Anevka having the Dangerous Widow Whom No Man Can Tie Down vibe

She's a solo act. Some flings, sure, but overall? Chaos. Refined, elegant chaos.

Anevka as Bang’s sugar mom was suggested. We were obviously all on board.

Bang doesn’t need a sugar mom, but it makes the vein in Klaus's forehead throb, and that's very important.

Bang absolutely tries to get Tarvek to call her “mom” while she’s ‘dating’ Anevka. One time he does call her that and it throws her for SUCH A LOOP because no wrong.

Anevka occasionally daydreams of a world where she could have both Othar and Bang at the same time without them IMMEDIATELY trying to kill each other. Only occasionally, though, she has evidence to plant and blood to spill.

BACK TO ANEVKA SHIPPING HER KID WITH HIS POLITICALLY-APPROPRIATE CRUSH.

Anevka: Oh look, my future daughter-in-law. Tarvek, tired: Mother, she doesn't like me. Anevka: Whyever not? You're clever, handsome, politically apt, charming, sensitive, heir to a throne, you are EVERYTHING a maiden could wish for. Tarvek: You just think that because you're my mom. Agatha: No, no, she's not wrong. You're just not someone I trust. At all. Especially since you say you've been a honeypot before. Anevka: See? A simple hurdle, dear, I'm sure you could whip him into shape in no time. I could even loan you the whip. And the harness, perh-- Tarvek: MOTHER.

Anevka sends Tarvek out with Othar for “field trips.”

It’s great!! Multi-purpose! Absolutely helps boost Tarvek’s image if he’s associated with Known Hero, gets Othar out of her hair for a little bit, sometimes he can be pointed in a direction that’s useful to her.

Othar refers to this outings as “stepfather-stepson bonding times.” Tarvek absolutely hates it. Detests it, really.

Somehow something goes wrong and like 50% of the time and he ends up getting accused of murder, probably.

It’s so unfair. Especially since of the two of them, Othar is more likely to murder than him. (It’s because everyone knows what those Valois types are like, and Othar is a hero.)

Gil: What's so embarrassing about your mom? Your mom's nice. (To me.)

She gives him head pats and lollipops. His own dad certainly never gives him head pats OR lollipops.

Anevka: Well I WAS going to push him towards dear little Seffie, but he seems to be quite enamored with YOU, darling. Tarvek: Mother, PLEASE stop getting invested in my love life.

Anevka’s job is to meddle, he’s lucky she isn’t drawing up contracts and going Full Arrangement.

I also love the idea of Anevka having one of those "sunshine embodied anime mom" smiles as she says "Oh Tarvek, dear, look at all your little friends!"

She's genuinely enthused but Klaus is heavily disturbed by Anevka smiling like that.

"Is she going to sacrifice them?" "Uh, no, it isn't Sunday."

Human sacrifice is actually garish and passe these days, haven’t you heard?

Just imagining one of those Stately Child and Parent portraits with Anevka and Tarvek here.

When Tarvek was born, Anevka has an "I've only had my son for an hour and a half" moment... and then just shrugged and rolled with it.

Anevka "Hot Mom" Sturmvoraus is one of the MANY banes of Klaus's existence, but she's definitely one of the friendliest on the list... as much as he may resent that, at times.

Anevka: Is the Baron in? Boris: Actually... [Crashing noise] Boris: He just left. Anevka, pulling on the rocket boots she stole from Othar and heading towards the broken window leading to the outside of the ship: That's alright, I'll catch up.

(I love how Anevka's name just lends itself so well to AU portmanteaus.)

Anevka definitely susses out Gil's identity but she doesn't actually DO anything about it other than angling for Useful Connections.

She's always telling Tarvek to bring his friend along, and Klaus doesn't want Gil anywhere near that family but he doesn't want it to look like he has any particular interest in Gil.

Imagine Klaus actually encouraging Gil to persue Agatha with the idea that it will put some distance between Gil and "that damn woman and her spawn." Anevka for her part is pushing Agatha towards Tarvek. Meanwhile the three of them are working it out between themselves.

She just has This Energy, folks:

Tarvek: Oh no. Theo: Whats the matter? That's your mom, right? Tarvek: Oh NO, she's wearing her 'NEWLY WIDOWED BUT OUT ON THE PROWL' OUTFIT Theo: ????? She hasn’t been widowed- Tarvek: SHES AFTER THE BARON AND I'M GOING TO DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT, THEO

The one thing here is that Anevka's not into Klaus and he's not into her but by GOD is she going to fuck with his head about it.

She’s just doing this for the Big Dick Energy of trying to Get Baron Wulfenbach.

Embarrassing mom of the deadliest degree.

Tarvek: YOU’RE GOING TO RUIN MY LIFE. Anevka: Don't be so dramatic, let your mother have a bit of fun. Besides, he's not expelling you anymore, is he? Tarvek: I almost wish he was-

Also Gil and Tarvek reconciling early on due to the immense power of being Embarrassed By Your Parents.

Anevka and Klaus getting increasingly bitchy at each other at dinner, and Tarvek and Gil are just. Bright red and glowering at them.

They’re DESTROYING their COOL TEEN CRED.

Tarvek doesn't ever wants to marry a woman who has been married before, not because of some weird distaste of so-called "sloppy seconds," but rather that he's just scared that they're going to be like his mom, and planning to kill him for his money.

Tarvek, waking up in the middle of the night: What if they really do get married and I have to have Gil as a stepbrother. Tarvek: (screams internally for a few hours)

Anevka is also that Sailor J contouring video

While Otharnevka is... this thing

Some more relevant Vibes: Divorce Court Half-Mourning Upper East Side Widow

Everyone always assumed she had murdered her husband. It was a natural assumption, but ultimately wrong. She had had plans in place to kill him if the need arose, but in the end she hadn’t needed them.

Most people grossly underestimated how complicated it was to arrange for someone to be t-boned by a semi carrying flammable chemicals.

Othar as Anevka's second trophy husband and Tarvek's annoying stepdad has a very specific energy.

That energy is at least 20% "the lovebirds take anniversary honeymoons every year" and 60% "Tarvek hates being in the room with them because they're gross and embarrassing."

This is partly fun because Othar being Tarvek’s stepdad is... a lot.

But honestly, I'm also just enjoying cougar Anevka with Trophy Husband Othar. They're actually in love!!! BUT. Cougar with a trophy husband.

Anevka makes sly comments about Othar and Klaus having sexual tension.

Also I have headcanons about NB Tarvek and like

I think she'd be supportive up until the point of "you want to be Storm King, don't you?"

Less "this isn't natural and you shouldn't be this way" and more "this is going to cause you trouble due to social norms."

"Keep it under wraps until your throne is secure, then you can come out in a blaze of glory." No dresses in public until you're king, then do whatever you want. After all, “Your Majesty” is gender neutral.

Anevka caught Tarvek playing dressup in her closet one time and just criticized the color relationships.

And you must try to avoid wearing that particular shade at all, my dear, it really doesn't look imperial.

#Anevka Sturmvoraus #Girl Genius #Tarvek Sturmvoraus #Klaus Wulfenbach #Gilgamesh Wulfenbach #Othar Tryggvassen #Agatha Heterodyne #Otharnevka #GG OT3 #Phoenix Posts

68 notes · View notes

jaz-xedarix · 3 years

Text

The Return of the Star

Thank you so much for your patience and your nice words. I really appreciated them too much.

So finally I have finished part II, and things are starting to get really interesting.

As I promised there’s a new coloring among the text, I really hope you like it, and I put another one, but a bit older, since I couldn’t resist to post it in this part XD

Thanks so much to @buffaloborgine and @trinity-blood-translations for helping me correct this text, your effort is valuable to me. Send you lots of love my friends.

Let’s get started.

════════════╠☆╣════════════

The Istvan Opera House was located on Andrássy Street, the main avenue of the city. It was an old style building that had survived Armageddon. After the liberation battle, it was the first place restored by the archbishop, to serve as a public building for the citizens.

The building was built in a magnificent and delicate Neo-Renaissance style. It was an imposing work that could be compared to the Scala in Milan, the Opernhaus in Vienna or the Státní in Prague. The facade had a secluded air, but once inside the decorations in gold and purple colors overwhelmed the visitor with their luxury.

The “guest of honor” entrance that Esther passed through was no exception. In the boxes facing the wide stage, the rugs were so thick that they reached to the ankles, as if she were in a lavish palace. The walls were lined with works of art and all the furniture had been expressly imported from Rome or Florence.

However, everything paled when compared to the beauty of the woman who was waiting for her sitting on the sofa.

“Welcome, Sister Esther. You may be exhausted after the trip...”

The Cardinal Caterina Sforza, Duchess of Milan, Secretary of State of the Vatican and head of its foreign policy, gave a friendly welcome to the nun. Telling her to sit on the couch that was in front, where the two priests was already sitting, she laid her cup of tea on the table.

“I've was told you've had a difficult time with the media at the station. I am glad that you are well.” “Nothing happened… More than anything, it was a surprise that…”

Looking into the gray eyes that smiled at her behind the monocle, the nun awkwardly shook her head like a puppet. For Esther, the Cardinal was a person almost as sacred as the Virgin. Every time she presented herself to her, she couldn't help but get nervous and tense. She brushed off the sweat she didn't have and continued in an uneasy voice:

“Your Eminence, the journalists called me Saint… what kind of joke is this? And why am I the protagonist of the play that is going to be performed here tonight?” “We'll talk about all that later...” Adjusting her monocle, the beautiful woman looked up at the stage, the curtain still closed, and sighed. “His Holiness will be here shortly. He is accompanied by the Minister of Information, who is the one who has organized all this. I myself know only part of the story. It will be better if he tell us all about it in person… What I want to hear now is what news you bring me from the Empire.”

The cardinal spoke with the usual serenity. However, her voice had hardened slightly as she turned her gaze back to the nun and priest, as she crossed her legs under her habit.

“Were you able to contact the empress?” “Yes, we have to inform you about it.” Esther steadied herself and her voice changed as she began to recite the report that she had been rehearsing mentally in the way: “We were fortunate enough to have direct contact with the Empress in...” “Well, the truth is that we couldn't speak to her directly…”

Everything Esther had prepared came to nothing when the other voice interrupted her, preventing her from speaking.

“Eh!?” She didn't even have time to stop him. As he turned to the voice, she saw that Abel was still speaking with an irrepressible verbiage, which did not leave her a space to intervene.

“We did our best to deliver Her Eminence's message in person, but, of course, meeting the Empress in person was beyond our means. Even so, you need not worry, because we asked a local noblewoman, the Marquise of Kiev, Astharoshe Asran, whom I already knew before, to serve as an intermediary. The message will have reached its destination; you can be sure of it.” “Ah? Bu... Father... Wait a minute...” But what was he saying!? Esther nervously adjusted her habit as if to signal him, but Abel did not stop chattering for an instant, gesturing exaggeratedly with his hands. “Yes, we suffered the unspeakable to achieve it. Abroad, right? One does not know how things are done... To fulfill our mission we spend our days without stopping running up and down... tears come to my eyes just remembering it now that I tell you, and without doubt, you will cry too... Imagine, I lost three kilograms!”

Where did all this nonsense come from? Esther managed to come to herself and resist the curiosity to see how far the priest would be able to go.

“Wait... wait, father! Stop speaking nonsense!” She did not know what this foolishness was about, but if it continued like this, Caterina would end up thinking that they had not seen the Empress. Covering Abel's mouth with her hand, Esther yelled in the direction of the Cardinal:

“Ignore him, Your Eminence! We do…”

«We did speak directly to the Empress!» Just when Esther, red with exertion, was about to shout that phrase...

“Cardinal Sforza, I beg your pardon...” An elegant male voice echoed out as the door opened. Looking up, the Cardinal met a man who was greeting her respectfully and who was leading a group of three people. He was middle-aged and wore the purple sash on his habit that indicated his status as archbishop.

“Forgive us for interrupting your conversation, Your Eminence. His Holiness and Cardinal Borgia have arrived.” “Hello Beautiful!” The second voice would seem to have been made up of a frivolous shake spiced with kitsch. It was hard to imagine anyone less suited to wear the Cardinal habit than the young man with long dyed hair and a nasal voice who had just entered. This was Antonio Borgia, the Minister of Information. “How long, right?! Makes sooo much that I did not see how fantastic you are that seems that my aesthetic sense have atrophied, you know? How are we doing?” “Good afternoon, Cardinal Borgia. I see you are very happy. If I'm not mistaken, we met the day before yesterday in Rome, right?”

Responding sharply to the young man, Caterina turned her gaze to the third figure in the group. Seeing the face of the teenager coming up behind the two men, her cold gaze softened.

“Ah, Alec…! How was the flight? Are you dizzy again?” “Y..., y... yes, sister...” Dressed with beautiful white clothes, the Pope Alessandro XVIII spoke with a low voice. In addition to being extremely shy around people, to the point of bordering on autism, get out of Rome or even out of the Papal Palace supposed one horrible adventure for him. Anyways, the face of his sister seemed to calm him a bit, because he went on, stammering:

“I..., I got dizzy a b..., a little... b... but now I'm fi... I'm fine...” “Really? But you don't have very good color. I'll make someone to prepare some medicine for you... Wait, I'll take the opportunity to make the introductions, since we're all here. This is Sister Esther from the Secretary of State. She is the Saint of Istvan”

Exhorted by Caterina, the nun saluted respectfully. “Nice to meet you. It is an honor to be in your presence, Holiness.”All Vatican employees knew of the reserved character of the pope. In order not to startle him, Esther spoke in a calm voice as she placed a light kiss on his hand.“I am not worthy of you granting me the grace to kneel before you... “ “Ah...! N..., no...” At the touch of the young woman's lips, the pope went from pale to flushed. His breathing quickened, as if he were going to have a heart attack, and he withdrew his hand in embarrassment. ”And…, and…, I… And…, and…, I…, I…”

“Holiness, you must be tired...” said the first man who had entered, placing his hand on the shoulder of the babbling teenager. Maybe half a century of his life had already passed, but his face had manly features that surely wreaked havoc on the opposite sex when he was young. With an attentive expression, he made the young Pope sit on the sofa.

“The show will take a while to start. Get some rest here. If you allow me, I will handle the speech.” “Thank you, Archbishop D'Annunzio...”

Before Esther's eyes, the Pope was panting hard, as if he were going to have a panic attack or something. The one who wiped the sweat from his forehead to reassure him was Caterina.

“Forgive me for putting you through something like this, but this ceremony took so much effort that...” “Oh, does not matter! It is an honor to be able to do our bit to the work of her eminence and the Vatican.”

Emanuele D'Annunzio, Archbishop of Istvan, smiled kindly as he took Caterina’s hand. After kissing her like a gentleman kisses a lady, he turned his serene green eyes to her beautiful face. “I wrote the script for tonight's play myself. I am afraid that it will not be up to the refined taste of Her Eminence, but it will be my honor that you listen to it... I do not know how the representation will turn out, but...” “It'll be great, you know? Sure: super, super good.”

The one who responded in this way to the humble words of the archbishop was not Caterina, but the other cardinal present. Antonio, adjusting his bangs, continued with a slightly annoyed voice. “Because, hey, haven't we helped you with production from the Ministry? I mean, the stage, and the direction, and the actors... Aaaaall of it it’s super mega first class. So if it goes wrong, it will be because of the script, you know?” “We will be forever grateful for your support, Cardinal Borgia. It is an honor that you have dedicated your valuable time to our representation...”

D'Annunzio's words were kind, but there was a hint of provocation in his tone. His green gaze was fixed on the young man, like an adult lion facing the cub that wants to take his place.

“Today's ceremony is very important to us, because our recovery will serve to show it to the world. Its success will also serve to show the power of the Vatican… We hope to continue having the support of the Ministry of Information from now on.” “...”

Although the tone was defiant, it could not be said that there was anything really wrong from the archbishop's words. Antonio was silent, something strange in him, as if not knowing what to answer, clearly feeling the difference in maturity that existed between him and his interlocutor.

In his fifties, Archbishop D'Annunzio was an experienced man who had played a crucial role in the Vatican since the time of the previous Pope Gregorio XXX. As the right hand of Alfonso d'Este, who was then head of the College of Cardinals, he had held important positions as Director of the Holy Inquisition and Chief Secretary of the Vatican. In his spare time he had written dozens of novels and more than two hundred plays, and was considered one of the literary geniuses of his time. However, his brilliance had provoked the envy of Alfonso, who ended up moving him away from the center. His fame was surpassed only by Cardinals Medici and Sforza, the Pope's stepsiblings. No one but a skilled politician would have gotten Istvan city reborn from its ruins just a year after the catastrophe of The Star of Sorrow.

“Ah, but I have not yet greeted the main guest...”

After silencing the young man, the archbishop turned quickly to Esther, who was silently observing the dialectical combat between the two high religious positions.

“This is the first time we met, but I know you very well, Sister Esther. I beg your pardon for having you come from so far away.” “Ple…pleased to meet you, Your Excellency...” Esther rose, embarrassed, from the sofa at the friendly smile of the priest and lowered her head, blushing at his manly features.“I am much honored that you invited me. It is an honor to meet you personally.” “Not at all, the honor is mine for being able to greet the Saint in person. I did extensive research on you to write this script. I've been dreaming of meeting you for a long time, but... the truth is that you have surprised me. I didn't think you were so beautiful...” “I… beautiful? Not at all…”

At the Archbishop's compliments, Esther buried her head deeply and turned even more red. Half confused, half flustered, she looked around for Abel to come to her aid. “It's the first time I've been invited to a box of honor at the opera, but hey, what a sight! Heh heh, I feel like God...”

The priest was lost in his thoughts, observing the theater, and did not realize that the nun was looking at him. In her imagination, Esther kicked him on the back, while scratching her head, wondering how to respond to the archbishop.

“May I ask you not to call me Saint? It's a too important word that I don't deserve at all...” “You don't deserve it? You are too modest, sister… ” D'Annunzio replied, still smiling, as if enjoying the young woman's bewilderment. Extending his hand to fix her cap, the archbishop looked at her with mischievous face “You are the holy maiden who protected the people and killed the evil demon... As Archbishop of Istvan I cannot be grateful enough. Tonight's performance is my humble attempt to help your feat remain in the memory of future generations.” “I am very grateful to you, but...”

With a tight smile, Esther awkwardly shook her head. Her face had suddenly lost its rosy color. Saint Esther? What all that was about?

She murmured that inside her with downcast eyes, it wasn't just because the name disgusted her.

A year ago a man had expired in her arms. He was someone who had loved his human wife, someone who had decided to fight the world as revenge because the humans themselves had taken the woman he loved from him.

The “evil demon” that D'Annunzio referred to was that being. Esther had been elevated to the category of Saint for the "feat" of having killed him, but there was something that did not convince her. All this seemed like a farce in which she did not want to be involved...

“Ah, by the way, Your Eminence, what about Cardinal Medici? I thought he was also going to be present at the ceremony for the fallen...” “Unfortunately, his commitments do not allow him to leave Rome. He said he would send a representative, but… still not arrived?”

D'Annunzio and Caterina began to talk about practical matters. Relieved that she was no longer the center of the conversation, Esther turned her eyes to the audience.

More than a thousand spectators filled the theater. They were all famous people from the city, but Esther didn't recognize any faces. During the reconstruction of Istvan, D'Annunzio had given preferential treatment to the industrialists of Rome and Venice to install their factories and banks in the city. The attendees were all rich people of that kind. The echoes of the conversations that were heard were not in Hungarian, but mainly in the official language of Rome.

The curtain was still down, but the actors could be seen waiting behind the scenes, probably to come out to say hello before the performance. Among them was a smiling young nun, the heroine portrayed in the flier. The hunchback next to her would be the Marquis of Hungary. The sinister makeup highlighted his monstrous appearance and showed long predator fangs. It couldn't be clearer that he was the bad guy in the story.

The fragile and beautiful heroine would go through many difficulties, but in the end she would defeat the monster and bring peace to the city. It was such a predictable story that just by seeing the actors you could already imagine.

But…

«But the fight end was much more complex», thought Esther, grabbing unconsciously the rosary that hung from her neck. «It’s not the urge to kill. I don't have such bad taste as to enjoy killing others. This is a fight for life»

The man who had said those words was not a mere “evil demon”, nor had Esther fought him for strictly holy motives. There were still many things that she did not fully understand, but it was clear that this had been a struggle for survival. If she had lost, it would have been Esther and her companions who would have died. Yet the young girl couldn't get a question out of her head: «Was it really an inevitable conflict?»

A nun like her couldn't ask such a question out loud. As long as she worked for the Vatican, a doubt like that was tantamount to questioning her own identity...

“Eh?”

Esther was lost in her thoughts for one moment, but at once came back to herself. Among the actors who had gathered in one corner of the stage, a figure that had gone out discreetly from behind the curtain of the opposite corner had called her attention.

It was one girl more or less of the same age of Esther, she had brown skin, an unusual color in the region, and her hair of a raven black. The combination of the daring opening of her dress with the long gloves decorated with precious stones gave her an extremely dramatical air. But what attracted the interest of Esther was neither her figure nor the clothes she wore. Those purple eyes that glowed in the well-proportioned face... she had seen them before somewhere.

“That girl looks familiar to me...” “Is there something wrong, Esther?”

The voice that echoed behind her was of the lanky priest, who was wandering absent-mindedly around the royal box. As he devoured with his eyes the plate of tea pastries next to the young woman, he asked:

“Suddenly you were silent, doing that face… Oh, do you have a stomach ache? Do you want me to eat those pastries? I don't mind doing you that favor...” “No,” Esther replied dryly, cutting off the priest and added, pointing at the girl with her finger: “Doesn't that girl looks like someone familiar to you, father? I've seen that face already... and not long ago.” “Eh, what girl?” The priest asked in an intrigued voice, and looking where Esther was pointing, he looked confused. “I don't see any girl… Ah, you mean that actress over there?” “No, I mean, the one that has come from the other si... Huh?”

When she looked back to the stage, Esther furrowed her brow, as well as Abel. The female figure that she had seen an instant before had disappeared. “But how strange... she was there a moment ago...” “Wow! Is that the actress who plays your role? I had seen her in the flyer, but in live she is even more beautiful!” Abel had already lost all interest in Esther and was absorbed in watching the group of actors. He made no effort to hide the drool from looking at the actress. "But what a beauty! Both in style and in attractive it is much better than the original… Ah, but don't be angry, Esther. It is undeniable that she is much more beautiful, elegant and seductive than you, but you have your special appeal. You don't have to worry.” “I have to take that as a compliment!?”

Esther put the cup of tea on the plate, ready to answer the priest as he deserved, but...

“Ah! The representation is about to begin...” murmured the Archbishop, raising the eyes to the clock and got up to say goodbye to the Pope and the Cardinals. “Holiness, Eminences, I hope you enjoy with the performance. Excuse me, I will give the welcome the public... Come on, Sister Esther.” “What!? Me?”

Esther was stunned, pointing her finger at herself as she blinked in surprise.Why did she have to accompany the archbishop to greet those people?Seeing the nun's confusion, the archbishop smiled and in a sweet voice, he dropped the bomb: “Let's greet the audience together… I suppose you have prepared a little speech.” “Sa... say hello to...? A speech!?”

At those completely unexpected words, Esther was dumbfounded. It was a joke? He couldn't expect for her to just come out on stage in front of the crowd and improvise a speech!

“Wait ... wait! It's a bit hasty...” “But haven't you come prepared? How clueless my Saint is... Well, what can we do? As I assumed something like this could happen, I have allowed myself the freedom to prepare a small draft. You just have to read it.” “Eh…? But…”

The archbishop seemed to be completely serious and handed her a pile of papers. Esther received them without knowing very well what to do and looked doubtfully to the priest, looking for his help...

“Ah, Esther! If you go on stage, can you ask that actress to sign an autograph for me?” Let it say,«To Father Nightroad, sweetheart» or something like that, okay? Heh heh heh...!” “!”

Saving her killer instinct for later Esther heaved a deep breath.There was no way out of it.

"Ugh, I'm late!"

Although it was still early November, the winter cold had already fallen on Istvan. Gloomy clouds covered the sky, and although the building was supposed to be equipped with heating, the white breath of the people walking through the lobby of the Opera House could be seen.

However, the male figure that rushed into the hall seemed immune to all of it. From the gigantic man who crossed the room devastating the carpet emanated a suffocating sensation of summer heat. It goes without saying that such a figure attracted all eyes, as if a monster from another world had suddenly appeared in the room; but the man seemed oblivious to it and advanced with a hard look, as if he were entering enemy territory.

“What a misery to have suffered a setback precisely when I am representing Cardinal Medici! This mistake can be very expensive, Petros!”

Dressed in the uniform of a secret police officer, Brother Petros looked up at the clock as if observing an ancient enemy. Although there were still twenty minutes until the start of the performance, he had committed a very serious fault by not having arrived before His Holiness made his entrance.

Anyway, he had only arrived in the city a few minutes ago, sent by his superior, who had too many business holding him back in Rome. He had not arrived by air, like the Pope, but had taken the land route. The planned inspection of the military facilities had taken him longer than planned, and that had caused the delay.

Although the inspection had been satisfactory, it was scandalous that the director of the Holy Inquisition arrived after the papal retinue. No doubt a severe reprimand from Francesco awaited him when he returned. If it was just a row that awaited him... There was one other thing that Petros had to worry about...

“Where will the honor box be? Eh…? Where the hell am I?”

As soon as he went through the lobby, Petros stopped. He had to accept that he was lost and began to look around, but none of the doors he saw were the ones he was looking for.

Indeed, he did not know where he was. He had stormed across the lobby, but had no idea how to get to the honor box. Resigned to search blindly, he began to scan the surroundings with a fierce grin, to see if he could find any sign, but could do nothing more than make a passing child cry.

The issue was that the box of honor was not accessible from the general entrance but it had its own access, but Il Ruinante had no way of knowing that. He gritted his teeth and prepared to undo his way when...

“Oh!”

Behind the intrepid warrior monk came a small cry of pain.

Turning around, Petros had collided head-on with a girl who was walking behind him. The girl fell on her back to the carpet, dropping what she was carrying.

“Aaah! Forgive me, sister! How clumsy you are, Petros!”

The man tried to apologize as he picked up the papers, which had been strewn down the hall. The nun was still moaning on the floor, clutching her bonnet.

“Excuse my ineptitude! Are you OK? Eh? You!?” As he helped the nun to stand up, Petros' face changed as he roared in surprise at his interlocutor, who was still reeling: “You are Esther Blanchett!” “Ah, brother… Petros, right?” Moved by the violence with which the inquisitor had spoken her name, the young woman stepped back, raising her tearful gaze to Il Ruinante, and bowed to him. “We haven't seen each other for a long time… Ah, thanks again for your support in Carthage.” “No, please, I'm the one who owes you... But what am I saying?!” Petros began to respond to the greeting automatically, but quickly came back to himself. This was not the time to chat! “Esther Blanchett! What are you doing here!? This is not the place for you!”

Finally the nun straightened with surprise in her eyes. “Well, I was getting ready for the speech. Archbishop D'Annunzio has ordered me to greet the audience with a few words and was reviewing the script...” “Has the archbishop ordered it? Impossible. How can it be that...?” Laughing like if he was talking to a little girl, Petros glanced at the script, his expression suddenly turning from skepticism to surprise. Topping the sheets was… the archbishop's seal!? The inquisitor began hastily reading the text. “Wha... but what...?! «Before all of you gathered here I want to raise my voice to denounce...»”

«Before all of you gathered here, I want to raise my voice to denounce that there is pure Evil in the world. I want to raise my voice to say that as long as that Evil is not exterminated, we will have no future. We must unite to fight and defend everything we love, everything we respect. It will be a difficult and tough fight, but all united in our Faith we must face…».

It was unbelievable, but it seemed to be, indeed, the script of a speech. And it took up almost fifty pages. The tone was a bit affected and overly dramatic, but the closing archbishop's signature seemed authentic.

“Hmmm! And the archbishop signed it... But I can't believe it! Why did he ask you to…!?” He said, looking at the nun with suspicious eyes. “Are you plotting against me!? Tell me the truth or you will regret it!” “Eh? The truth is that I have no idea what you are talking about for a while now...”

The young woman scratched her head, honestly confused. It was like talking to a drunk who did nothing but repeat the same story.

“It's not that I don't find it strange to be here, really. First I receive a notice from the Duchess of Milan to come to Istvan, then they ask me to give a speech... The truth is that the...” “The Duchess of Milan… Cardinal Sforza!?” Petros reacted quickly to the young woman's words. The Cardinal... what was that viper up to?

Actually, Petros was most concerned about what the Pope's stepsister might do during the visit. Taking advantage of the absence of Cardinal Medici, she could try to manipulate His Holiness or do some strange maneuver... He had to be prepared for anything, and the facts gave him reasons to suspect. So the viper had already set off... But he would not trip over the same stone of Carthage again. This time they would not escape from him!

Staring at the nun, who was staring at him in bewilderment, Petros clenched his fist. That witch had played with him in Carthage. Just when he was about to uncover her plot, all evidence had been destroyed. He knew with certainty that she had had contact with the vampires, although it had escaped him at the last moment. But this time he would catch her. He would discover what is she plotting around the Pope and would denounce it to the world!

“Ah, there you are, Sister Esther...”

A cold voice roused the inquisitor from his inflamed musings. It was an elegant male voice, interrupting him as if to protect the nun.

“I've been looking for you for a while. Eh? I think we've met before… What brings the Inquisition here, Brother Pietro Orsini?” “Yo... Your Excellence!” Hearing his secular name after so long, Petros turned as if an electric current had passed through his body. Seeing the archbishop approaching, he gave a forced salute. “How long! What a joy to see you again!” “Yes, a long time, Orsini. The last time we saw each other was when I left my charge as Director of the Inquisition, right? You were just a kid and look at you now. How time flies!” “I will never be grateful enough for your advice and your attention back then!” Said Petros, bowing deeply, as if he were a spring doll.

Il Ruinante’s sword was feared inside and outside the Vatican, but there were four people he bowed his head to. One of them was Archbishop D'Annunzio.

“Please excuse my delay. The review of the troops has taken me longer than I had calculated and the roads were collapsed...” “You can tell me that later...” the archbishop cut him immediately, turning around and say with sweet voice to Esther, who was watching them in astonishment. “Sister Esther, have you had a chance to read the script? It’s almost time for your speech. Let's go up on stage.” “Yes, I have read the text…” replied the nun, embarrassed, taking the papers that the inquisitor had returned to her with an impetuous gesture. “But, Your Excellence, am I really supposed to read that speech?” “Eh? What do you mean, sister?”

The archbishop was surprised to see the dark light that had covered the young woman's eyes, and asked with a cautious expression: “You don't like the parliament I have prepared for you? Does it not meet your literary expectations?” “No, is not that. It is wonderfully written and conveys the ideas very well… But the message…” The nun choked with her words… After hesitating and stammering for a few seconds, she looked up, determined. “Why make such a clear call to war? A year ago we fought the Marquis of Hungary, it is true. But it was a pure struggle for survival. We did not think of pretty phrases like «divine glory» or «security of human society»...” “Ah, that's what you mean...” D'Annunzio interrupted the young woman's fiery voice with great serenity. The archbishop's smile keep its charm, but his tone had a certain inhuman echo. “You don't have to take it so seriously, Sister Esther. The public gathered here tonight have not come to hear the truth. What they expect is a dramatic and exciting story… They want the story of the heroic maiden who struck down the evil vampire. Isn't it our obligation to meet those expectations?” “B... but...” “Listen to me, Saint...” D'Annunzio silenced Esther with a gesture and shook his head. The hallway had begun to fill up, and the archbishop lowered his voice, returning greetings to passing guests. “You are a very sweet girl, Esther. I fully understand that you don't like harsh words. But think about it for a moment. Although it has recovered a lot this year, Istvan is still going through difficult times. The life of the citizens, your compatriots, is still very hard. Think how important it would be for them to have a heroine...”

The archbishop placed a very white hand on her shoulder as he looked deeply into her eyes. “Esther Blanchett, you must be their Saint. You must be the image that encourage their hearts. You must be the strength and the hope of all those you love, of all humanity. I will show you how.” “...”

Esther was doubtful at the powerful words of the archbishop, after opening and closing her lips as if not knowing what to say, the girl sighed deeply.

“Good. I'll try.” “Good girl.” Nodding with satisfaction, D'Annunzio opened the door that led to the stage.“Sister Esther, it's time to go on stage. The public awaits you.” “OK…”

«The public awaits you». She would have felt joyful, but the worried expression of the girl did not changed. Even it could be said that the suffering is evident in her face. Anyways, Esther began to walk dragging her feet. She went through the door the archbishop had opened for her and disappeared down the dark corridor.

After closing the door, D'Annunzio made a sarcastic face.

“What a difficult Saint to handle... one breaks one's back to turn her it into a star, and she, in return, complains...” “Ah?” At the archbishop's cold laugh, Petros looked up in surprise. Opening the door again, D'Annunzio said in a clear voice, to the surprise of his former subordinate: “I never know how to treat smart ass girls. It's so boring having to lecture them like that… The tools should be quiet and just do what they are asked to do…” “A tool...? Your Excellence, when you say «tool» do you mean that girl? And what does it mean to «turn her into a star»?”

Petros asked in astonishment. So he didn't really think she was a Saint?

“Ah! So the director of the Inquisition is still there...”

The Archbishop of Istvan turned as if he was seeing a stranger and responded with the tone of someone who had just discovered a stain on his clothing.

“You heard me perfectly. Saint Esther is nothing more than an image created by the Vatican. It is a huge fiction promoted through the management of the media and the investment of large amounts of money...”

The bishop spoke confidently in the dark corridor, as if explaining everything to a tough-minded subordinate. “As you know, the Vatican is losing power over the secular states. To stop this trend, it is necessary to regain the center of social attention. Creating a Saint is part of that project. Esther Blanchett is nothing more than a tool for our plans...”

«You shall not worship idols», the Bible made it very clear. Didn't the archbishop know? D'Annunzio spoke as if he did not feel any apprehension or guilt for playing with the life of a girl and the faith of millions of people like that. “Besides, as a tool, it's first class. Her past is impeccable, and it doesn't hurt that she's so pretty… She has a very cute face, don't you think, Orsini?” “Eh? Well, I wouldn't know...” At the knight's embarrassment, the archbishop looked at him with mocking eyes. “You don't know about that? Well, it doesn't matter… I have to introduce my Saint to the public. Orsini, you can go to the box of honor. Then we will talk about your delay. Get ready.”

D'Annunzio turned, dropping those cold words, and reached for the door that led to the stage.

“Ah!?”

Frightened, Petros started to run away from his former superior, but just as he was about to give a farewell bow, he remembered that he still had something to ask him about. “Your Excellence... I really have a question to ask you before I present myself before His Holiness.” Half-closing the door, the archbishop turned with an annoyed gesture at the voice of his exasperating interlocutor. “What?”

D'Annunzio's voice was reminiscent of a teacher announcing to a student that he had failed. Petros barely repressed his desire to flee and ran from the archbishop just to ask: “I have just reviewed the City Guard, but… Your Excellence, what does this deployment mean? I have seen a complete division or even more. What about those tanks and aircraft!?” D'Annunzio continued walking as if he was unaware of the alarm that echoed in Il Ruinante's words. “I admire how you have managed to reform in just one year an organization that had been completely destroyed. But for a public order force it is a bit out of proportion. Is there something going wrong?” “Eh? What is going to go wrong?” The archbishop stopped for the first time.

Twisting his mouth, he answered coldly to Petros’ puzzled gaze. “Certainly the Guard's strength now exceeds what it was a year ago. Nobody hides it. But if the situation of the city is taken into consideration, it cannot be said that they are sufficient. After all, Istvan is the central column of the Vatican's eastern defense line. Their defensive potential has to be as great as possible... don't you think?” “If you will allow me to speak frankly, I think there is a problem of magnitude! The Second Division of the Vatican Army is deployed in this area, which is responsible of the defense work. The City Guard should only perform police functions. What is the point of equipping the police as if it were an army?”

The only response Petros' fiery speech got was a cold smile. “Well, well, I see that you still don't understand anything, Orsini...”

The archbishop made no effort to hide the malice and contempt on his face. As if he felt sorry for the stupidity of his interlocutor, he made a face, laughing through his nose. “Yes, there is an army division stationed here. But in the event of war, those troops will leave the region. Won't Istvan have to defend itself, then? That is why we have increased the strength of the Guard... Of course it costs us a lot of resources, but that is why we can’t afford to reduce it.” “But that dismantles all the plans of Rome and Cardinal Medici! Also, you speak of war, but now that the region has stabilized, where is the risk of war going to come from? Neighboring countries respect the authority of the Vatican and there is no sign of any disturbance to happen so...” “Brother Petros!!!”

The scream echoed like an ice whip. Throwing a defiant look at the inquisitor, the archbishop harshly carved his words into the dark air of the hall. “Are you the Director of the Holy Inquisition and you don't understand something like that!? Have you forgotten who the mortal enemy of humanity is!? Have you forgotten that this Empire of terrible devils is next to us!? If you've forgotten, I'll remind you. Never forget: this is Istvan, the front line of the battle against vampires!” “Ah…? But...”

Anyone who had attended their dialogue would have been frozen in surprise.Il Ruinante, known as the most implacable man in the Vatican, had fallen silent.

When he noticed Petros is not going to reply, the archbishop softened his expression. “Well, I don't want to lecture you anymore. Go back to the lobby. Didn't you come to escort His Holiness? That's all you're worth for. At least accomplish the mission you've been given.” “Y... yes! With your permission...” Gritting his teeth, Petros bowed.

He was not at all convinced by the reasons given by his former superior, but he had no proper reply at the time. He didn't have time either. He turned towards the exit when... Just then the door closed in front of him. And, as if they were waiting for that moment, the guards locked the door from outside.

“Hey…”

Had they locked him up!? Petros looked around him, bewildered. The doors that led to the stalls were all closed with bolt. The lighting in the hall began to dim as the lighting on the stage took hold. The warrior priest then heard the sound of the presenter's voice through the microphone:

“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the Istvan Opera House! In a few moments the Star of Sorrow will begin before all of you.”

“Petros, you are so clumsy!”

The inquisitor began to get nervous. He had to find a way to get to the Pope's box as soon as possible! However, as much as he searched everywhere he was not able to find an open door. Apparently the security measures were meant to keep the public effectively locked inside the theater.

He actually couldn’t make someone to open one of the doors invoking his authority as head of the Inquisition, if he did it, that would divert the attention of the speech that was about to start on the stage, and when they found out, the archbishop would scold him again some more.

“Before we start, the author of the script will say a few words of welcome… His Excellene the Archbishop of Istvan, Emanuele D'Annunzio!” “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”

While Il Ruinante was sweating while desperately looking for a way out, the welcome speech had begun on stage. Taking the microphone, the Archbishop smiled with all his virile charm. However, the voice that began to echo through the room had the serenity of a servant of God.

“Welcome everyone. It has been a year since I received my appointment as Archbishop of this city. The road has not been easy, but with the help of the Lord and the collaboration of all of you, we have managed to happily overcome all the difficulties that have been presented to us so far. During this year we have defended in Istvan the glory of the Lord, who brought us a girl. I think we can be proud of it.”

After uttering those phrases almost without breathing, the archbishop was silent for a moment. He closed his eyes as if he were remembering all the efforts of that year and raised his face to the ceiling. Petros realized that this was not more than a theatrical gesture, but the audience seemed to understand it as one reaction of sincere religious piety. Some mature women even began to sob quietly in the excitement. Then, after checking that the entire room had gone completely silent, the archbishop opened his eyes again. Still smiling serenely, he raised his right arm to point to the small figure waiting at the base of the stage.

“Tonight I am moved to have the opportunity to express our appreciation to the person who made the rebirth of this city possible. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to the heroine who freed Istvan from the evil monster! Our hope before the devils that threaten us! Sister Esther Blanchett, Saint of Istvan!”

As thunderous applause rose, the hesitant figure of the nun appeared, equipped with a microphone. Blinking because of the bright spotlights and shrugging, the girl looked tiny in the middle of the huge stage, as if she were just a child.

«She's just a poor kid…» Petros thought as he watched Esther walk across the stage. Come to think of it, the poor girl deserved his compassion for many reasons.First, because she belonged to the Ministry of Vatican Foreign Affairs, which was the lair of that witch, Caterina Sforza. Besides, she had to work with those agents, who had a horrible reputation of being sacrilegious. He couldn't imagine how she could lead a pious life as a nun between them.

Above all, the entire show that night had not been sought by her, but had been implicated by the surroundings of D'Annunzio. At her young age, being worshiped as a Saint and being commissioned to make a speech to such an audience could only be considered a misfortune.

“Uh... uh... Go... good night to every... Oh, no...! Good evening, la… ladies and gentlemen. It is an honor to introduce myself to you. I am Esther Blanchett. I do not have words to express my gratitude for this opera to be performed in my honor...”

While Il Ruinante looked at her with compassionate eyes, the nun had started babbling. The inquisitor’s heart cringed just to see how her forehead was beaded in sweat and how her blue eyes were moving full of insecurity. Trying to smile faintly, the young lady put on the table the script that the archbishop had given to her before. Just when she deployed the first pages and prepared to start reading... the tragedy happened.

“Ah!?”

The first thing that echoed through the speakers was a small groan. The pages of the script Esther was going to read flew across the stage.

“No!” Cried Petros, as the papers fluttered like leaves blown up in the wind.Had she forgotten to re-tie the rope that held the pages together? The nun was trying to pick them up in haste, but many had already fallen off the stage. The girl's tensed face had lost all traces of color. But Petros and the rest of the audience didn't have to hold their breath for long.

At first, the nun was so stunned that she couldn't even speak, it was natural.

Having to improvise a speech in front of such a crowd, and also being people of such power in society… Even a veteran politician would have found it difficult. How could it cost to a girl who had just turned eighteen?

In view of the events, no one would have criticized her if she had fled the stage. But the Saint did not.Biting her lip as if she had made up her mind, she rose to her feet, adjusting the hem of her habit. She was still a little pale, but a powerful light shone in her blue eyes. As if attracted by that look, the audience's attention was concentrated on the girl's face when she began to speak...

“I beg your pardon for my clumsiness… The fear of speaking in front of so many people has left me a little stunned…” Esther began in a vigorous, almost savage voice. “A play will be performed in my honor tonight and I want to express my enormous gratitude to you for taking the time to attend the performance”.

Was this the same nervous nun who had trembled a few minutes earlier? Esther addressed the audience with her head up, as if all the perplexity of before had disappeared.

“Well, to be improvising she does it very well...” Petros said to himself with admiration, as he looked for the archbishop with his eyes. At the backstage, D'Annunzio seemed to be more tense than before, but he was still looking at the young woman with a satisfied smile. As the nun had read the script before, a few as she remembered, things would go more or less as he had planned. Petros expected the same when he looked back at the girl. She would probably invoke God and the Vatican, would praise the courage of the combatants a year ago and call those present to remain united. If she said that, nothing would be noticed...

“Thank you all. That was my intention... But now I have changed my mind...”

It would take a long time for Petros to forget how the atmosphere in the room changed with just that short sentence.What she’s going to tell them!? Glancing to the backstage, he saw how the archbishop had stiffened, staring at the nun in amazement, as if observing a ceramic doll that had suddenly begun to speak.

Esther was not looking at the archbishop, but at the room full of spectators. In her pupils were reflected the innumerable puzzled faces that had been nailed to her. The audience seemed hypnotized by the words of the Saint, who whispered slowly: “I have come to pray with all of you for the souls of those who shed their blood in battle a year ago. For that I have returned here, to my city.” The voice was not overly powerful, but it completely dominated the room, where not a cough was heard. Without being too high or too low, it filled the air with a clean and serene feeling. It was the perfect example of a pleasant voice. As proof of this, when hearing her, Petros had completely forgotten that he had to go to the royal box, nothing further from his mind at the moment than to get away from there.

Il Ruinante had been lost in thought, listening to the flow of that voice.

“A year ago, we got a lot of blood flowing. Blood of our comrades, blood of our enemies… It was a horrible battle. But then I thought there was no other option. To survive you had to fight. We couldn't help but spilling that blood. In those moments it seemed that we were at a crossroads between life and death. Yes, that was really the situation. That's why we took up the sword... But now, a year later, I have the feeling that «there was no other option» is not a sufficient explanation for that fight...”

Esther was silent for a moment after the long speech. At the view of the girl closing briefly her eyelids to soak in those memories, Petros thought that this nun did not seem at all like the girl that he knew. More than someone alive, it recalled to the images of Saints that appeared in the murals and religious paintings of the cathedrals. When she opened her eyes again, a sweet but intense light shone on them. Looking at the audience, which was in absolute silence, she continued with a calm voice.

“During that battle I met one person... one person who back then was my enemy. He was the man I was trying to kill. But he also believed he had to kill to me to survive.”

Her expression could not be said to be very refined, nor the sound of the words to be very beautiful. In spite of this, there was nobody in the room that was not captivated by the voice of the Saint. None of those celebrities and distinguished people uttered a single word. They were all focused, listening to the girl, who kept talking as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“But it wasn't true, no one should have died; However, due to a misunderstanding, at first, both he and I thought that we had to kill ourselves to survive… And not only him. I believe that among those we killed and who killed us there were many like him. Many who laughed like us, cried like us. Many who we hated. All possibilities were destroyed by a misunderstanding.”

Perhaps it was the memory of that man that made a trace of suffering appear in the serene voice of the girl. The audience also felt the sting of that painful memory in their chest. Looking ahead, Esther spoke without hurrying, without forcing the words, penetrating every corner of the hearts of the attendees.

“Ladies and gentlemen, distrust yourselves. Be suspicious of justice. Maybe we are too simple. Be suspicious of your ideas about justice in the world. Are they really correct? Aren't they often just what we want to believe? Don't we impose them on our neighbor many times? Be suspicious. Mistrusting these issues is not bad.”

«Be suspicious of justice».

Hearing those words, the audience felt a slight shudder. Since the nun had started her speech, that was the first moment of doubt. The audience had been rapt with her until then, but little by little the audience began to come to their senses. Esther was not flustered by the change in the audience, so she pushed herself even harder in her speech, expressively moving her arms.

“It may be that these words make you sad. You may think that everything is false and that nothing is certain. God and justice are nothing more than mirages… But they are not. We can distrust, distrust and distrust, but something will always remain. There is always something that cannot be denied… For example, on a winter night like this, meeting with the whole family in front of the stove and feeling the warmth in the heart…” The families in the audience exchanged glances, as if encouraged by the girl's words.“Or look at the starry sky from a deserted meadow and feel how precious our little existence is...”

As to embrace to all those present, the nun extended the arms and continued talking, pretending this time caress the soul with the voice.

“Love of oneself and of neighbor ... that's what remains in the end. That is what makes me believe in God. Because God loves us and has given us these gifts. So let's pray together. Let us pray for all the blood that was shed and the souls of all the fallen… Amen.” “Amen.” “Amen.” “Amen.”

Although they had wanted to rehearse it before, the response of those present would not have come out more conjoined. It seemed they had coordinated not only the breathing, but even the pulse. The echo of those words had scarcely been consumed when a thunderous round of applause went up. The ovation did not diminish after the nun finished bowing in thanks. After the archbishop's speech, the audience had remained seated, but Esther's words made everyone in attendance stand up to cheer her on. Even Petros, seeing the reaction from the room, was unable to suppress a cry of admiration.

“And she's just a little girl… What a charisma!”

N: A very old Petros’s coloring ;)

Just with the dubious name of Saint, the girl had managed to move more than a thousand people. This was not normal. Thinking ahead, Petros felt a slight concern.

If the artificial Saint that D'Annunzio and Borgia wanted to make was added that ability to attract the public, the potential of the girl was not negligible. If she developed her career under Sforza's guidance, she would be a formidable opponent for Cardinal Medici and his followers...

“Hey you! Where do you think you are going!? This is not the time for that yet!”

Those reproachful words that came from the base of the stage brought the warrior monk to his senses. Turning, he saw a Guard soldier in his gray-blue uniform arguing with someone carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. Probably wanted to give it to the Saint. The one who carried the bouquet was a young adolescent. From the daring evening dress she was wearing, she seemed to be the daughter of one of the attendees. However, her dark skin and pronounced features were a rare combination in these lands. Her eyes were slanted and her pupils a stunning amethyst color.The soldier holding her in the gray gloves began to speak in an increasingly harsh voice.

“Didn't you hear me? If you want to give the Saint a bouquet of flowers, you have to wait for her to come down from the stage. Go back to your seat and stay still.” “Stand aside,Terran!”

The young woman slightly moved the arm that the other was holding, It seemed a only symbolic gesture, but what happened then was anything but that.

The soldier, who was six feet tall and weighed a hundred kilos, flew off incredibly and slammed his face against the wall. The impact must have made him pass out. The horrible noise of his nose breaking was the only thing that accompanied his collapse to the ground.

The scene did not go unnoticed. Muffled shouts of astonishment began to be heard from the audience, and in the box of honor the cardinals had risen with tense faces. However, Petros wasted no time in observing the reactions of the attendees, because he had noticed that the young woman had too long canines between her lips...

“No! Get away from her you all!” Shouted Il Ruinante, wielding with each hand the screamers that he wore on his waist. “She is not human! Is a…!” “Nice to meet you, Terrans. My name is Shahrazad and I come from the True Human Empire…” said the girl, with a voice as beautiful as a bell, but at the same time full of defiant force.

As the bouquet of flowers was dropped, the long jeweled gloves she wore began to glow. Leaning them against the wall, the girl, or rather the vampire, looked directly at Esther, who made no sign of wanting to flee.

“This evening I come to see the killer who you call the Saint... and to kill her!”

With a thud, the wall began to crumble, looking like a spiderweb.

════════════╠☆╣════════════

And this is it my dear friends, I hope you have enjoyed this and the new Petros’ coloring I added. I tried hard not to include personal notes in the translation, because I love Petros so much and I was like reacting to everything that happened to him. Maybe that’s the reason I love this arc so much XD I want to thank you a lot for your patience, for those who still support this and help me out with it, and to those who share the love by rebloging and liking this. I truly apreciate that. See you soon on the next part, stay tunned because the best part is next to come. Please stay safe and healthy <3

#TrinityBlood #TrinityBloodNovels #fan translation #fan coloring #manga panel coloring #abel nightroad #esther blanchett #caterina sforza #brother petros #ROM IV #chapter 1 #part 2

47 notes · View notes

yer-cute-when-you-scream · 3 years

Text

Prince Im Jaebeom~ Royal!AU

WARNINGS: Fluff, Slight Violence, Some Toxic Masculinity. (I’m probably forgetting something)

A/N: So I decided I will be doing them individually, I know that it may seem weird, but for me it will be easier in terms of writing. I think posting my last story actually helped because I was able to finish another request that I will be posting shortly after this! I hope the anon that requested this likes it, I know a lot of people who do the Royal/Prince!Au’s don’t write it like this, but I thought this would be a good way!

Prince Jaebeom is very mature, sophisticated, and respectful.

He never really cared for materialistic items, even though he could have had anything his heart desired.

The only thing he asks for is plants, he only asks his mother for them though.

When he was younger, he was out in the garden with his mother, helping her take care of the flowers and other plants, frolicking here and there.

He loved helping his mother, he loved the aroma of the flowers, the colors, the aesthetic of how they all looked together.

One of the knights started mocking him for doing such a ’girly’ thing.

”Why are you out here doing a woman's work? Imagine what your father thinks! How embarrassing.”

Jaebeom lost his smile and looked down, The Queen stood from the flowers she was in the middle of planting, stepped in front of the cruel knight, shielding Jaebeom from his words.      

The Queen, an exceptionally soft and passive woman, actually slapped the knight.

She yelled at him about how he was just a kid, and it's not his place to tell him what he should be doing.

The knight was shocked and immediately felt guilty, (The knight is still very remorseful to this day, but he matured and started acting nicer towards others after that.) he apologized to Jaebeom and asked for his forgiveness.

Jaebeom accepted his apology and forgave him, but because of that, he doesn't tell anyone about his love for plants; except for you.

His father was a remarkable man, he taught Jaebeom how to talk and act as a true King would.

His mother taught him how to be respectful, that everyone should be looked at as equals.

”My darling son, would you ever want to be as if you were nothing but a rat? No? Then why would you treat your people like that?”

Jaebeom could never even dream of treating someone like that.

His mother also taught him how to be a perfect gentleman, how to cherish and make a woman feel adored, and made sure he knew he was to never neglect her. 

He likes to walk around the Kingdom, mostly the market because that's where he met you.

When people bowed to Jaebeom in the market, he shook his hand at them with a smile.

”There’s no need for that, I am just another person, like you.”

You were a florist, selling flowers and succulents that you grew and took care of yourself, he always stopped and complimented your flowers when he was in the market.

He thought you were so beautiful, your smile made him smile, he often got lost in your eyes.

He would hang around your stand just to have a conversation with you, he slowly fell deeply in love with you as you did with him. 

His mother immediately knew he had fallen in love, the look in Jaebeom’s eyes as he talked about the florist from the market was a dead giveaway. Both the King and Queen encouraged him to follow his heart, reminding him there were no laws saying the Prince had to marry someone royal.

Jaebeom was nervous as he walked up to your stand, you were packing up your plants as the day was near its end. He asked if you would like to accompany him to dinner at the palace the next night, you look at him with shock but quickly shake it off. You accept his invitation but then stop mid-sentence, you look down at your clothes and remember you have nothing remotely close to elegant to wear.

Jaebeom immediately knew what you were thinking, before you can utter another word, he cuts you off and reassures you. 

”Nonsense, I don't care about what you’ll wear, I would just have the pleasure of being in your presence.”

The dinner was marvelous, you’ve never had such exquisite food before. The two of you talked and laughed almost all night long, luckily you didn't have to put your stand up the next day. It felt like no time had passed before you sat with him in the garden, fireflies flickering everywhere, he trusted you enough to show you his plants and you loved that.

He waved his guards off before grabbing his garden cutters, he snipped a flower from his favorite bush, he brushed your hair behind your ear before placing the flower there. The night sky illuminating your skins as you both leaned in, lips touching, sparks flying as you shared your first kiss together.

His mother was the first to know that he was going to ask you to marry him, she let a few tear of joy slip onto her cheeks, and again when he showed her the ring. You were in the exact same spot as you had your first kiss in when he asked for your hand in marriage. The King and Queen absolutely loved you, they knew you made their son happy, and what more could they ask for?

87 notes · View notes

mittelfrank-divas · 3 years

Text

Dance of the Black Heron chapter 2

The next chapter of my Dancer Hubert fic! In which the other Black Eagles have opinions on this situation.

This fic is now up on AO3 for those who prefer reading there!

===

"I think it's a fine idea." Edelgard rounded one of the long tables in the Black Eagles classroom, carrying a stack of tactics textbooks. It was quickly growing dark outside, and every other student had long ago vacated the classrooms, but the pair of them were often found here at this hour by the flickering light of the candles and the dwindling embers of the fireplace.

At first, tidying the classroom had been an easy excuse for them to meet at night without suspicion. It was a perfectly appropriate activity for the head of the class and her attendant to engage in regularly outside of normal class hours, with obvious evidence of their work that they could point to the next morning if anybody asked where they had been.

Now, although better awareness of the guard rotations and lesser-used passages gave them plenty of other ways to slip out after dark, habit still found them here day after day. Hubert could not help but notice the pride that Edelgard took in maintaining the Black Eagles classroom, making sure the chairs were straightened and every student had their required materials ready in the morning. It did not matter that their classmates could easily retrieve their books and quills themselves, or that the room would be equally serviceable if the chairs were left slightly askew or that the floor could endure going unswept for a few days. Edelgard wanted the classroom to be perfect for her Eagles, and so Hubert was all too happy to assist her in that.

He automatically held out his arms for her to deposit the books into and began distributing them before each chair on one side of the room while Edelgard began passing out her own stack on the other side. He scowled down at the books in his arms as he sought out the one with the broken binding, which he always deliberately placed in front of Ferdinand's chair. "I did not expect you to share in our professor's folly."

"I see no folly in it." Edelgard was not quite so deliberate in her distribution, placing each of her own books without checking its state. Hubert doubted that any of the other Black Eagles noticed that the left side of the classroom always received the same books each day (the nicest one went to Bernadetta and their state of decay decreased down to Ferdinand's) while the right side was randomized, with each equally likely to receive the one wrinkled with water stains on one corner. Her egalitarian approach meant she always finished sooner than Hubert, and so she was first to move behind the professor's desk to retrieve the quills and ink pots. "I know you know how to dance, Hubert. I have seen you do it many times."

"Respectfully," Hubert grumbled, "our little bedroom waltzes hardly compare to a competition that will determine the composition of our class. You have seen me run before, but you would not ask me to participate in a marathon."

"Nonsense." Edelgard turned to him, a pot of ink in each hand. "That comparison would only be suitable if I had watched you outrun the entirety of our class. You are good at dancing. You have proper stance, you keep time well..."

"Lady Edelgard," Hubert set his final book down and met her eyes directly. "Did you convince the professor to choose me?"

Edelgard's pale eyebrows rose. "You are cross with me. No, I did not. I merely advised them that you would be a good choice. They were already considering you."

"I am not cross with you, I am…" Hubert sighed, and slouched down to rest his gloved hands on the table. "Alright. I am cross. I wish you'd consulted with me before agreeing to this."

Edelgard never cowered from anger -- his, or any other's. It was one of the many traits that made him admire her. Her pale lavender eyes met his fully. "I apologize. I thought it best if you heard directly from our professor first. It is not as though they can force the decision upon you, after all, can they?"

"No," Hubert admitted with a sigh, finally moving to retrieve the quills and ink alongside her. "They merely trapped me in my own logic. Forced me to admit that I can see no better option."

"Well?" She flicked her white hair back out of her eyes as she shot him a sidelong glance. "Is your logic flawed? Is there any other who we should choose instead?"

Hubert had been asking himself that very question since the moment he exited the professor's room. Dare he give up their only cavalry unit? Their only assassin? Could he ignore his own predictions that Linhardt would shirk whatever responsibility the role would demand of him? "I am beginning to question whether we require a Dancer in our ranks at all."

"Well then, I am certain that Claude von Riegan will make good use of it," Edelgard said crisply as she laid out quills.

Claude von Riegan. Claude von Riegan with somebody under his command who could effectively double the speed of any attacking unit. Hubert could already imagine a number of scenarios that Claude could manifest with such power in his hands, but worse were the ones that he could not imagine.

"Your attempts to bait me are rather transparent, I'm afraid." Even as he said it, Hubert attempted to shrug off the vision of the future Alliance leader darting out of their peripherals, bow at ready.

"A pity," Edelgard sighed, moving toward the professor's desk. She always made a point of organizing their notoriously scatterbrained teacher's class materials at the end of the day. "I had hoped I was being subtle. Transparent though I may be, however, do tell me if my plan has worked."

Hubert prided himself on his schemes, on his ability to out-think his opponents. Unfortunately, the fact that he had honed his skill by practicing with his closest friend meant that same friend knew him all too well, and easily turned those same skills back on him. "Of course it has," he conceded, and moved to stand in front of the professor's desk while Edelgard sat down in the chair across from him. "You know I cannot bear the thought of giving such a calculating opponent an edge such as this. Well spotted as ever, Lady Edelgard."

She pulled a stack of Byleth's disorganized notes to herself, a small smile creeping onto her face at her victory. Under normal circumstances, Hubert lived to see that smile soften her carefully-managed features. In this case, it was difficult to take joy in one more sign that his doom was sealed. Nevertheless, she nodded at him. "Alright, then. If our only goal is simply to keep the Dancer class out of anyone else's hands, the solution is simple. We send someone else to compete in the White Heron Cup, but we will not make use of the certification once we have it."

Hubert crossed his arms, considering her suggestion. It was an easy way out. They could send Dorothea or even Ferdinand to compete without interfering with their long-term plans. Edelgard was showing him a kindness by offering an alternative. The fact that he recognized it for a kindness made loathing for himself churn in the pit of his stomach. For her to settle on a lesser choice simply for his sake was intolerable. "An elegant solution, but a wasteful one. I doubt you would be satisfied with such a plan."

Edelgard sighed. "Of course I wouldn't be. I think a Dancer would be of great benefit to us, and I think you would be an ideal choice."

Hubert shook his head, leaning down to press both hands against the front of the desk. "I simply fail to understand why."

"It is just as you and the professor said. The Dancer must be able to anticipate the movements of the battlefield and turn it to their advantage. When I am at the front of the line, I want someone who knows my tactics and my plans, who can predict exactly what choices I will make, to be at my back setting the stage. It's true that anyone in our class could do the job adequately, but only you could use such a position to seamlessly carry out my plans." Edelgard leaned across the desk, her hand closing around Hubert's wrist, her pale eyes meeting his fiercely. "I would never order you down a path that you found intolerable, Hubert. If this is truly unbearable for you, then we will find another solution. I just wish you could see how much I think you would shine in such a role."

She truly had so much faith in him. Not just to be a Dancer, but to be her Dancer. Someone who could help her achieve her lofty goals. Maybe, if he actually could succeed in winning the certification…

Hubert's hand went to his head, pushing his black hair out of his eyes. "This is foolishness. It is not a test of skill, but of charm. You know that I could manage to hit every step perfectly and the judges will still favor whoever has the most attractive smile."

Edelgard's eyes glinted confidently. "And is that such a bad thing? You know as well as I that charm is a matter of manipulating perceptions." She leaned forward, using her grip on Hubert's arm to pull herself across the desk. At her height, Edelgard practically had to lay across the expanse of the wood surface to lean close to him, but she somehow managed it. "Hubert," she said lowly so none passing by the open door could hear, "when we constructed the Flame Emperor together, remember what you said? That we must create an image that strikes awe into the hearts of all who see him. It will not be you dancing out there. It will be the image we create for you. So let us create that image. Will you permit that?"

An image. A persona, like the Flame Emperor. Hubert could not imagine himself standing before the entire school, hoping to convince them of his appeal with a charisma he did not possess. But thinking of it as simply another mask…

His other hand closed over hers. "If you are behind me, I can try."

***

The evening was still early when he found his way to the ground-level dorms. Light glowed warmly from the open doors and windows of the cafeteria, chatter and laughter filtering down the stone staircase. It was a crisp fall evening, not yet cold enough to keep the students from lingering around the fishing pond or drifting slowly toward their dorms while carrying on their dinner conversations, trying to delay the night of studying ahead. It would not be, therefore, considered terribly untoward for Hubert to be standing outside of Dorothea's chambers at this time. He took a moment to steel himself before knocking sharply on her door.

He highly doubted that he was remotely within the sphere of people who Dorothea hoped would be standing on the other side of her door, yet her smile was dazzling anyway. The songstress knew how to perform even in the most mundane of venues. "Hubie! It's not like you to make social calls. Are you here to scold me for forgetting to use Edie's title again? Or is this about that saucy joke I made yesterday? Was that too much for her delicate royal ears to hear?"

Hubert stifled a sigh, already regretting this conversation. Dorothea's personality was entirely too much for him to face directly like this. Her irreverence around Lady Edelgard had been a point of contention in their first few weeks at the academy, but Edelgard herself enjoyed Dorothea's brash attitude and had told him to let it go. Truth be told, Hubert also took a certain amount of pleasure in watching a commoner breezily ignore social mores the way that Dorothea did, pointedly affixing his fellow nobles with all-too-personal nicknames rather than a deferential title. But it was a spectacle that he preferred to appreciate at a distance, without the full force of the songstress's energy and wit directed at him.

"Nothing so serious as that, I assure you." Hubert stiffly folded his hands behind his back, sifting through his mental notes to recall exactly how he had rehearsed this conversation. Unfortunately Dorothea's chaotic nature had already derailed his plans, leaving him to leaf frantically through his script to work out what to say next. The sound of laughter echoing across the square made him uncomfortably aware of the other students and monastery residents moving around behind him. "I thought perhaps that you should hear it first. The professor has chosen our candidate for the White Heron Cup."

He saw her smile falter a bit, and knew that she was doing the math. If Byleth had chosen her, then surely Byleth would be the one to deliver the news. Still, her voice remained as bright as ever. "Really? That's great news! Who is it?"

Hubert could not stand to look at that fading smile anymore, and his eyes found a particularly fascinating crack in the wall by her door. "You should know that this was not at all an easy choice. It was less a matter of who could succeed in the competition than of who we could afford to remove from another role. The composition of our class is..."

"Hubie," all warmth had drained from her voice now, replaced with a dangerous edge. "If you've come all this way just to soothe my feelings over Ferdie being chosen over me, you can just get it over with."

The very suggestion that Hubert would ever choose Ferdinand von Aegir shocked him into looking at her again. "We need Ferdinand on his horse, loathe as I am to admit that. Just as we need you continuing to study both Reason and Faith, a combination that we otherwise lack." He shifted awkwardly, resisting the urge to either fidget or flee. "I have been over the class roster many times, and unfortunately I see no other way around it. The professor is of the opinion that the only one who can be spared for this role is myself."

A single laugh burst out of Dorothea's mouth before she covered it with both hands. "Oh Hubie! Oh I'm sorry, it's not funny. It's just unexpected."

"I am quite aware of how unexpected it is," Hubert muttered, once again taking tremendous interest in the details of the wall beside her. "Which is precisely why I must request your assistance. There can be no doubt that you are our most gifted dancer. Moreover, you have experience with performing before an audience. I wish to ask for your help in preparing for this competition."

Dorothea stared up at him, cautious skepticism on her face. She did not trust nobles, and he shared in her loathing. Hubert himself nearly forgot sometimes that he would be considered one of them in her eyes. Dorothea may have acted cheerful around her classmates, but Hubert had seen the way she sometimes seemed to be bracing for them to turn on her. She looked like she was bracing for that now. "I'm sorry, did you say you need my help? You, Hubie, need my help."

"That is what I said, yes."

Dorothea snorted. "I'm surprised you aren't asking Ferdie, since he seems so very convinced of his superiority in every realm, including dance."

"I do not entertain that one's foolish ramblings." Hubert smirked as he said it, and was pleased that a smile crept back onto Dorothea's own face. She made clear her feelings on Ferdinand -- loudly, and as often as possible -- and it seemed that he won an ally in her on this front. "As much as it pains me to admit my own failings, I know that you are much more practiced in this arena than myself. If you are willing to assist me in this, I would be grateful."

She granted him that warm smile that she shared so freely with her classmates. "Well with a request like that, how can I refuse? Alright, Hubie. How about we meet on the training grounds tonight?"

Hubert felt his heart rate spike just at the thought of being caught practicing in such a public area. The training grounds were less crowded in the evenings, but there were many students who remained there even late into the night. There would be no hope of privacy in such a place. "Actually, I have somewhere more private in mind, if you'll allow. I'll meet you here at your room after class tomorrow and show you the way."

Her smile twisted itself into a sly grin. "Why Hubie, if you wanted to get me alone, a simple dinner invitation would have sufficed."

Now he did sigh. Truly, she was relentless. "I assure you, I have no such intentions. But if this is your way of requesting an exchange for your services, I will see what I can do about a meal."

"No fun at all," Dorothea sighed back, though he could see that she was still teasing him rather than truly disappointed. "Forget it, then. I'll see you tomorrow."

Dorothea closed the door, leaving Hubert standing awkwardly outside. He had the rest of the night ahead of him to fret over what awaited him at Dorothea's lessons.

***

Hubert had never before dreaded class. In fact, against all reason, he even sometimes enjoyed it.

That had been an unexpected development. That Hubert would accompany Edelgard to Garreg Mach, the very seat of the Church of Seiros, that he would attend classes alongside the frivolous sons and daughters of nobility, that he would sit in front of some church-approved professor and listen to their tiresome lectures… and he would not hate it. Sometimes he even learned something. Sometimes he even forgot that he was here under false pretenses, that he was only pretending to be a student in order to further Edelgard's aims.

But class had never before felt like such a trap. Never had he so cursed Edelgard's preference for sitting in the very front row, as well as his own decision to accompany her there. Hubert felt that every single pair of eyes in the room must have been on the back of his head. Surely such a thought was irrational, since only Edelgard and Dorothea yet had reason to suspect his distraction when he failed to turn his tactics textbook to the correct page.

Worse, their distractible professor left Hubert to suffer in silence through the entire lecture, carrying on as though his humiliation was not imminent. It was only when Byleth was about to dismiss them for lunch, threatening to draw out the torture even further, that Edelgard came to his rescue. "Professor, I believe you had intended to make an announcement."

Byleth paused, blinking at Edelgard in that dreamy way they always did when they forgot vital information, such as their own plans. "Oh, yes. We've chosen our candidate for the White Heron Cup."

A general murmur of excitement rippled through the classroom. Hubert pointedly closed his book and began organizing his things, trying very hard to ignore the chatter behind him.

"You were wanting to be choosing, weren't you Ferdinand?"

"I assure you, I know nothing about the professor's choice. If they have selected me, this is the first I am hearing of it."

"It's not me, right? You wouldn't pick me just to make fun of me, would you? Oh no! You have, haven't you? Aaaaaaah I don't want to do iiiiiiiiit!"

"Finally!" Caspar's voice rang out over Bernadetta's cries. "Who'd you pick, professor? We've got so many good dancers here, I bet we'll win no matter what!"

Byleth did not waste time on drawing out the suspense with theatrics. "I've chosen Hubert."

The din faded to uneasy silence. Of all the times that Edelgard had urged the Black Eagles to learn the art of being quiet, somehow this was the moment in which the lesson finally took.

"I don't think he's a bad choice at all." Dorothea jumped in to helpfully damn Hubert with faint praise.

"Indeed, if the strategy is to frighten the judges into choosing our house, you could not ask for a better candidate." Linhardt, naturally, chose to wake up from his nap exclusively for the purpose of contributing this jab.

Having run out of anything left to do with his own class materials, Hubert moved on to straightening Edelgard's notes for her. Might as well let his classmates get this out of their system so they could hopefully never speak of this again.

"Hubert's not going to assassinate the judges, is he? Noooo I can't be an accessory to murder!"

"Bernie, nobody's going to assassinate anyone."

"Is this being a contest of violence? I thought it was of dance."

"No, there's no violence. Bernie's just being dramatic."

"Imagine if it was though? Like what if we had to fistfight Alois to win? That would be awesome!"

"But I don't want to fistfight Alois!"

"Bernie, absolutely nobody is asking you to fistfight Alois."

"Well I trust in our professor's decisions." A single voice boomed above all the others. Caspar may have existed in a perpetual state of yelling, but Ferdinand von Aegir projected his voice at all times as though he was in the midst of orating to a crowd. "I am certain that they have good reason to choose Hubert to represent the Black Eagles house, and we should be proud to support him. Why, regardless of whether or not he's had training, with a few weeks, he should--"

"I have, actually." Hubert was already out of his chair and turning to face Ferdinand before his nerves had a chance to catch up with him. The ginger with his all-too-bright smile was staring at Hubert, startled at being interrupted mid-speech. "Which is something you might already know if you ever deigned to dance with those you consider beneath your status, Ferdinand."

Ferdinand's mouth hung agape, his ears turning a satisfying shade of scarlet. "What is that supposed to--"

"Alright!" Edelgard stood, inserting herself between them as she stepped into the center of the classroom. "Honestly, is this any way to behave before a competition? We are supposed to present a united front before the other houses. I expect all of you to give Hubert your full support, just as you would any one of us."

Hubert made a point of avoiding any further eye contact as he exited the classroom. With resounding support such as this from his own class, did he even need rivals to compete with? Perhaps they might send one of Bernadetta's plush toys to compete and save him the trouble.

#hubert von vestra #edelgard von hresvelg #black eagles #fanfic #dance of the black heron

32 notes · View notes

doomstypewriter · 3 years

Note

abt the last ask: u dont have to include it ofc (if u write it at all) but i thought id let u know that its based on the mental image i suddenly had of j climbing up to pats window, knocking on the shutters, pat pulling him in by his lapels and immediately kissing him (if you can even call it that with how hard theyre smiling) & then sometime later pat hearing like his dads footsteps coming toward his room as theyre making out so pat scrambles off his bf & shoves him in his closet (the irony)

Anon, finally, here you have it, but with a twist. This got completely out of hand, as per usual when I write anything. Since you were so nice (/li) to send me your request in two parts, I will actually break your prompt into two parts, otherwise, it’s never going to end. I hope you’re pleased by the first part, also, I am answering to this first because it matches the content of the first part.

Thank you so much for your lovely prompt! Hope you enjoy!

If anyone wants to be tagged for this let me know in a comment!

AO3

Chapter 2 >>

We call it an affair because it’s a forbidden romance

Summary: An encounter in the dark. The disdain of society. A forbidden romance. Royalty is involved and a title is at stake. Will an aspiring count, Patton Morandi and his rogue lover Janus overcome the barriers laid in front of them?

(We're in it for the drama)

---

“So long away and what I least expect is not you saving my life, but finding myself having missed your nonsense”.

“Is it nonsense when I make you smile like this?”

Word count: 3848

Pairings: Moceit, future Prinxiety.

TW: Homophobia, internalised homophobia, deadnaming a trans person, misogyny, mentions of religion, hopelessness, ideological things you would expect from the period (I'm not sure if there's anything else, but please tell me).

Chapter 1 of 2:

Balcony kiss

How the moonlight shone in its quiet dance with the nightly air. It was a mostly clear summer evening, the second day of the week-long festival. The sounds of music and colourful lights could be heard and seen from the distance, but gradually decreased as a certain thief made its way across the gardens of Villa Morandi. For certain, the head of the family would not be excessively happy about the entire ordeal, but no disgruntlement could come out of those things of which one has no knowledge of, and Janus surely intended to keep his entanglement a secret.

He crossed the bushes and jumped over marble balustrades expertly, careful to avoid the lights of the servant quarters, where their residents were reading themselves for departure.

“Signor Morandi seems to be in good spirits lately, it is fortunate that most of us can leave for the festival”.

Any news about the man was something worth listening to, given his situation, so he decided to stay and see if they mentioned something useful. Also, he, admittedly, enjoyed gossip.

“Loretta! Don’t be such a bragger in front of us!”

“Why? I’d say the only one lamenting not being able to go is you. You should be ashamed for dragging poor Virginia in with you to make yourself sound less self-centred”.

Janus silently nodded.

“That is not true! I am merely trying to make the newcomer feel welcome! And here you are making her feel excluded, who is now in the wrong?”

Weak retort, wannabe-partygoer, he thought.

“Va, va…” the other maid answered dismissively “Quit holding her like that! Don’t you see she’s uncomfortable?! Povera bambina”.

“Come on Virginia, don’t you think it’s a waste for such a wrinkly woman to be let out instead of us?”

“Who are you calling old?!”

“You did, but now that you so kindly brought it up, you are old! Turning wrinklier by the second!”

Alright, at this point, Janus could not help but be rooting for Loretta, going for the old card was the low-hanging fruit.

“I may be your senior, but I promise you that regardless of that nonsense about wrinkles you’re babbling I’m ten times more fair looking!”

“Ah!” she exclaimed with feigned indignation. “Can you believe her? She’s delusional!”

“Well then, the delusional one will not search for a man at the festival, such a pity I will not be introducing anyone to you this week!”

He smiled at the comeback. Way to go, Loretta.

“Loretta! Just because you had the luck to get engaged doesn’t give you the right to rob others of their chances. Don’t be so mean, I’ll apologise if I must”.

“Alright, but never dare call me wrinkly again, for you will owe this old woman when I find you a husband. Virginia, I can help you too if you want it, I know plenty of young lads who would love to…”

“Oh, no, I’m not really interested”.

At this point Janus had quenched his thirst for amusement and begun to lose his interest, having more pressing matters to attend to. But, one new comment made him reconsider the usefulness of his eavesdropping for longer on the ladies’ conversation.

“That’s right, Loretta, don’t you see she’s here on official duty. To suggest for her to slack off with men… ts, ts… “

“Oh, you shut up! Don’t fret, Virginia, dear, I should have remembered you were sent for an urgent matter”.

“True, true! Tell us if you can, is it as they say? Was her ladyship done in by pirates?”

“Elda! Such crude language, you dare call yourself a lady, how can you say something so insensitive?”

“What? You want to know as badly as I do, besides, if it is true, then there is no changing it, and if it’s not then it’s fine, as her ladyship is still alive”.

“I’m so sorry, Virginia, just ignore her”.

“Don’t worry. As far as I’m willing to say, her ladyship still lives but I cannot disclose any further information”.

Oh.

No.

When one spies on others, bad news exists as a possibility, but, usually, in the form of getting caught. This happened to be worse. Being spotted? That he could deal with. Having his heart ripped out after one stellar month? Not so much.

He ran.

Not from his problems. More or less towards them.

The marble balcony seemed as unreachable as ever. A sense of dread loomed over his thoughts, while a mix of feelings, now turned into urgency, settled in his heart.

Raising a hand Janus willed his trustworthy companion to fall from the nightly skies. Meanwhile, he began to climb the walls of the manor. There was an undeserved elegance in his motions, not becoming of such an honourless goal, and, nevertheless, fitting for a thief like him.

The hawk swept inside the room from a window and cast the doors to the balcony open.

Janus promptly grabbed onto the bass of the marble balustrade. One month ago he had received news of something that would simplify his life. He knew he should not care, it was going to end poorly no matter what. But, rereading two months worth of love letters and hoping for an uncertain future, he could not help but feel happy. That made his resolve to return in time for the festival.

From the room came a sound of rushing footsteps.

Three months of yearning to see a face again.

That image made Janus more desperate, and, in his haste, he committed one fatal mistake. His grip on the marble slipped. At a thirty feet height, the ground beckoned him.

But, just when his doom seemed so certain, he was caught by the front of his cape and safely gathered against a pair of lips.

With such smiles stretching their faces, it could barely be called a kiss. But, the intensity of the affections behind it rendered the notion meaningless.

“My love”, Janus muttered as they parted ever so slightly.

“You scared me, silly. I miss you for three months and when you’re returned to me I almost lose you for good”.

“Let’s be happy you were there to catch me”.

“Thank the Lord, and if He wills it, I will always be”.

“I ought to be grateful to you, my dear, not the ones above” he answered while stepping to the safe side of the balcony.

“Well, our poor feathery friend can’t be too happy about that” Patton laughed dismissively, gazing at Janus’ hawk.

“You’re right. I neglect to show my gratitude, perhaps you could give me somewhere to start?”

“Oh, but how can I hand you my room, my sweet, the stones of the house are too heavy!”

“So long away and what I least expect is not you saving my life, but finding myself having missed your nonsense”.

“Is it nonsense when I make you smile like this?”

Janus laughed in delight.

“Let me make you smile in turn, then”, he said, whilst extending his hand.

The touch of Patton’s palm felt like a warm pressure through the barrier of his leather gloves. Perhaps all of his interactions were as imperfect as their naked hands not being able to meet. Janus’ fake gallantry, their hopes, may be short-lived in the face of change. But, for now, he would rather enjoy pretending.

He pulled Patton to the inside of the alcove.

“Are you refined now?” Patton laughed.

“Of course, I have always been. Whatever could lead you to ask such a question? If I were to be a thief, which I am not, I would be the most honourable”.

There was a certain amount of delight to be found in catching his lover in the midst of changing into his night robes, judging by those being laid out onto the bed’s ostentatious covers. Despite such a degree of luxury surrounding Patton, he still refused to task any servant to dress him. What was there not to love about the man?

Patton made a motion as if to hold his hands, only to surprise him by pulling his gloves off. Any other person, and it would have been a display of sensuality, coming from him, it was like movement turned into honey, perhaps a mixture of both. Indeed, there was everything to love about him.

Maybe not all. Janus dreaded to admit how deep in he had allowed himself to be for this man.

A fool for a good man.

His hands felt the light night coldness in their grip on the linen shirt. Janus almost wanted to chastise himself as the thought of kissing away the kiss of the midnight breeze came to mind. He hid in the curve of Patton’s neck, sliding his lips along it, feeling like a coward whispering a lie. Countless lies. Telling himself this was enough, that he could bear the thought of this man taken away from him by a woman, that the thrill in this forbidden form of vice was not his worry taking yet another disguise.

“Oh, you’re a thief alright”.

“Is there something of yours I happen to have taken?” Janus retorted with a vague tone of amusement.

Patton cradled his left cheek in a firm request to see his face. Who was Janus to deny him?

“You know all too well you have”.

Oh.

“Well, that would make two of us”.

Patton’s expression melted into more honey. It always made Janus unsure as to whether he had made a mistake, no matter how unfounded the doubt was.

“Thank you” the words rebounded in proximity against the other’s lips. Janus didn’t know Patton could also be cruel.

“A little sincerity never hurt anyone”.

“You are not anyone” he smiled softly.

“Then make the pain up to me”.

Both their lips made contact like a wax seal on a letter. Janus pushed Patton against a low piece of furniture. From how the other fumbled, he could tell a corner was pressing against him. Despite the sting, Patton still committed himself to their affections. If that wasn’t a metaphor for their relationship Janus didn’t know what it was. Janus knew Patton would disagree, of course.

It seemed that exchanging one piece of furniture for another, the bed, would not be possible. Someone was knocking on the door.

“Janus…” Patton panicked in a hushed voice.

“Not a problem, my dear, this is my speciality” he smiled at him.

Janus’ feet almost flew over the carpet, muffled by the Persian fibres and his expertise on avoiding the parts of the floor that creaked. He turned the key of Patton’s wardrobe without the distinctive noise most people couldn’t avoid. Luckily for them, he wasn’t most people. The door mysteriously closed itself from the inside. Janus could swear to hear Patton draw a breath in wonder as to how he had done it.

“My son, let me in!” a voice came from the corridor.

“On my way, father”.

The mule-like bray of the alcove’s door hinges Janus detested preceded the sound of a set of footsteps he knew and loathed just as well, if not more.

“Were you reading yourself for bed? Ah, do not answer, I can already see your night robes over there. How many times need I tell you, call the servants to dress you, it is unbecoming that you do not. Moreso with the status you are to acquire”.

Janus almost scoffed upon hearing it.

It wasn’t that Janus outright looked down on Signor Morandi. He certainly held an admirable reputation and an even more admirable wealth. He contributed to the church, upheld his honour, was a patron to a few talented artists and did everything expected from someone of his status. By societal definition, he was an outstanding man. But, he could never understand Patton. Yes, Patton’s behaviour in public also stood to scrutiny. He was a young man to be admired, for sure. Yet, it somehow mismatched any other person’s strive for reputability. Patton lacked this performative quality, eagerness, if you will, that he found time and time again in people.

At first, Janus struggled to comprehend it. Everyone had desires outside of the strictly polite, they either pretended they didn’t or tried to hide it, that’s why they paid the church, after all. Janus didn’t believe people made an effort to actively align with the global canon for morality, just to look like it or deceive themselves. This theory on society made it so when he met Patton he simply dismissed him as a try-hard, later to relabel him as self-deceiving. Maybe he was a victim of his own biased cynicism.

As they grew closer, he started to get the whole picture. To his surprise, Patton tried to get his desires to align with what he perceived as morally correct, sometimes failing miserably. Janus’ presence in his room didn’t qualify as a success by society’s criteria... Patton’s effort to be ‘good’ did not come from a place of wishing to be perceived as such. Patton didn’t want to look good, he needed to be good. A good man. The realisation was hard to process but true.

Once he understood that, Janus could not let go. It stands to reason that, if that kind of person were to earn his affection, someone like his father would awaken his spite. Signor Morandi had simply never made an effort to understand his son’s motivations, unlike Janus. If he was a cynic, Patton was a victim to his own good intentions.

“I do not understand”.

“Lady Renata Regio is alive”.

“Oh”.

“Yes, it is most fortunate, you will no longer have to stay inside and miss the festival”.

“Well, father, I am not sure if that is appropriate, her ladyship must be feeling poorly after such a horrid experience. Perhaps it is best if I stay in and promptly send a letter to help soothe her”.

“Patton, it honours you to be willing to put the weak’s suffering before yours, but it is not needed in this case. You do not have to concern yourself with her. I am afraid that she is safe and sound on the account of having planned her own kidnapping. Lady Renata Regio has joined the pirates bringing disgrace upon her family, the wretched woman”.

Yes! Janus thought. Neither the wardrobe nor the entire room could contain his joy at hearing it.

“That is most unfortunate, should I reassure her family that I do not hold any resentment towards them?”

“It would be no good, there is going to be a scandal!” Signor Morandi sounded too happy.

Janus could not help but to smile a little.

“Are we going to pursue any retaliation?” Janus almost saw Patton shudder in the tone he used. “I do not think it necessary, it is a matter of marriage, although important, there are many other options that--”

“Yes, there are many other women to pursue, that is the spirit! In said spirits, I must inform you of the most wonderful news I have just received”.

What?

“Today a trusted servant from the Regio estate arrived at our home”.

“Yes, Virginia Fusco”, of course, Patton knew her name. “I personally received her, she refused to tell me exactly why she was sent here, also insisted to wait to talk to you”.

“Precisely, well, it turns out she is the personal servant of Lady Romina Regio”.

“The eldest of the twin daughters of the Regio?”

“Indeed. Let me be frank with you son, the Regio know they cannot keep the true actions of their lesser daughter hidden forever, a rumour is meant to surface eventually. This is very unfortunate for them, I have heard they were planning to match Lady Romina with a higher member of the nobility. Her sister’s actions have ruined her chances, it is unlikely that whoever was to marry her will accept such a union. My son, you know I always have your best interests in mind, Lady Renata Regio was a fine choice to provide you with connections to nobility. In turn, her family would have got access to our wealth, which, after their losses in the war, they need”.

Oh no.

“This being the circumstances, they have to choose how to align themselves in the future and what would be more advantageous to the family”.

“Shit” Janus said under his breath.

“We are about to reach an agreement for a marriage between Lady Romina Regio and you. I need you to understand that, if you are to accept, you will have to face some troubles, at least initially. The rumours about Lady Renata’s motivations may taint your reputation for a short while and the Regio’s rush to marry off Lady Romina will raise more rumours”.

“What choice would please you the most?”

“Oh, Patton, you idiot”.

“The union could make your child a count, you could potentially obtain a title depending on how we negotiate with the family. It is my wish that you accept this marriage”.

“Will this bring honour to our family?”

“Certainly”.

“Then…” an air of doubt went through Patton’s voice.

Janus was debating whether or not to burst out of the closet, either to tell him to refuse or to scold him for not accepting immediately what was probably the best opportunity of his life.

“Of course I will accept”.

“You make me very happy and proud, my son. I will meet with the servant girl to send her back with a letter requesting to meet with Lord Regio”.

The words were spoken carelessly. Signor Morandi often did that around his son, not knowing how many times he had been overheard by him. He may be a great man by society’s standards, but he could never be a good man.

Janus slumped against the back of the wardrobe, surrounded by pieces of clothing he could never afford. There was a world in which Patton had refused. But Patton hadn’t been left a real choice, so he could find some comfort in knowing this thing between the two had to end due to him being backed into a corner. Better than having Patton’s morals come between them. That, he would never reconcile with.

This was better than before. Being cast away for something as mundane as marriage, no matter the useful connections involved, was one thing, being left for a countess, well, if that’s what it took to refuse him he wouldn’t complain too much.

He would have preferred a marchioness or a duchess.

He would have preferred to be the only thing standing in between Patton and kingship and still win.

He would definitely prefer it if Signor Morandi was to accidentally fall down a flight of stairs on his way to writing his pesky letter.

There was nothing like a fire to persuade someone, even a countess…

But Patton would be upset.

His hawk screeched from the roofs above. Then footsteps rushed to his side, followed by candlelight flooding the inside of the closet.

Patton had no right to look so humble yet so marvellous. Not even the warmth of the flame could rival with that of his gaze. A gaze that was his’, not of any countess. But, still, a gaze that deserved to become a count.

“Janus…”

Honey clogging up his ears, that was the shape of a whisper.

“I suppose”, he shook off the dust of his cape and held his head up with dignity, “this is when we part. I’d love to say it’s a pity, but we saw it coming. Guess it was nice to enjoy it while it lasted. I’m always a letter away, my dear, that countess of yours wouldn’t ever find out”.

This was the bitter taste of selflessness. He never understood how Patton enjoyed it.

Janus turned around, ready to make his merry way out of Villa Morandi or fall off the balcony properly this time. Suddenly, Patton’s armed chained the two of them to their spot in the room. Patton’s chest heaved pitifully in a mockery of a hiccup.

“I’m sorry. What was I supposed to do? There was no other choice. I didn’t wish to upset you. Please--”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He promptly let him go.

“I…”

Janus turned back to face him.

“You think crying will make this easier? Do you seriously think I enjoy this? I would gladly rob you of everything and have you entirely to myself. It is taking so much self-restraint to not get your father into a tragic accident, my dear. If anything, you’re making it worse by crying. I am doing this for you. Don’t you dare ruin the one honourable thing I will do in my life”.

“How can I pretend to be happy when you’re leaving?”

There were sparks of light encased in his tears. Something about their ironic beauty left him even more heart-broken.

“What am I going to do, then? I can be selfish to an extent, but I cannot take the rest of your life too. You’re being offered a title and a wife, all the things someone at your level could wish for. Don’t be more of an imbecile, keep it. It is already inappropriate for you to be seen with the likes of me, and it’s even worse with me being a man”.

“You’ve never cared about that”.

“But you do! Let resume, dear”, he tried to say in his most condescending voice. It didn’t sound even remotely like it. “You go to church each Sunday, you have five bibles just in this room and the most sincere good-samaritan complex I have ever seen. I know you can’t bear to live in sin”.

“I can’t bear to live without you either!”

Oh, Patton, you fool, silly, ridiculous man…

“What…” he felt as if he was going crazy.

A chuckle escaped through the spaces in between his teeth. Janus looked downwards and whispered.

“What are you saying?”

This self-consciousness, he had never felt anything like it before. Was he blushing?

“I love you… I know it’s wrong, so why doesn’t it feel like it?”

More honey. What a way for his plan to backfire.

“This is ridiculous, you should be concerning yourself with more important--”

Patton placed the back of his hand under his jaw to raise his head with such gentleness... stupid.

“Is it ridiculous when it’s making you cry like this?”

A compassionate man’s tears were not worth his. He had never been as sure as now that this was a mistake. Yet he longed for him more than ever.

“Of course not” he wiped away his tears feigning some kind of dignity.

As quickly as ever, he also pretended to regain his composure.

“Do you have any sort of plan for what you’re going to do next? Under pressure, you’re a terrible improviser, my love”.

“Well...I can’t let you go. I know as much. I should, for my family, father, my honour. But I will not. You’ve shown me that acting selfishly doesn’t make someone evil. I will find a way to fulfil my duty without giving you up, you have my word”.

26 notes · View notes

cakejots · 3 years

Text

Unstained, Chapter 4

After certain events that happened in the day, Chat Noir revealed to Ladybug that he knows who she is under the mask. Her reactions astounded him. After certain events that happened in the night, Ladybug unveiled to Chat Noir why she can’t do what he asked of her. His reactions astonished her.

Rating: T, Words: 6938. Chapters: 4/4

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

Read on AO3

Exiting the chilly confines of his ride to school, Adrien can’t wait to fall into the warmth that his friends emanate whenever he enters into their presence. They were waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase before heading to class together. Alya and Nino were talking among themselves, with Marinette slightly out of the circle listening and munching on her breakfast.

“Hey guys!” He greeted them as he arrived at their spot.

Nino fist-bumped him with a greeting, Alya warmly welcomed him, and Marinette just waved.

Adrien took a closer look at her and realised that she had dark circles under her eyes. She also looked unbelievably tired with how her eyes hardly focused on anything; he grew worried.

“Marinette, hey, did you sleep last night?”

“Don’t worry sunshine, she just woke up way earlier today to help in the bakery. She’ll be fine,” Alya conveyed what Marinette had shared earlier on.

Adrien, still concerned even with Alya’s assurance, opened his mouth to say something, only to be stopped by Marinette looking at him and lightly shaking her head, asking him to drop it. No one can know the sudden change in dynamics between them.

Adrien was clearly defiant when they talked about it yesterday, ever so slightly trying to push his luck, but he still accepted her proposal nonetheless. Though, it hurts that he can’t be there for his lady when he evidently had the power to do so.

But he wasn’t the Black Cat Miraculous holder for nothing.

They walked to their lockers to get their necessary items before heading to class. Adrien took his time to gather his items, making sure no one was left in the locker room. Alya and Nino chatted on their way out, unaware that Adrien had snatched Marinette away from their backs.

“Adrien!”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he placed her down beside the door and released his hold from her waist, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me you had to wake up earlier today? I wouldn’t have kept you up last night, would have let you get home, no questions asked.”

If he was Chat Noir right now, she would be able to see his cat ears and tail drooping down.

“Slipped my mind. Don’t worry about it, I’m doing just fine,” she smiled.

“You say that now...”

Marinette ran her fingers through his hair, “don’t worry your pretty head over this, let’s go before we’re late!”

“Marinette! You know I’m here for you, right?”

But she had already turned and left the locker room.

He huffed.

Adrien knew he was right to worry about Marinette. The moment he entered the classroom, she was in the middle of breaking up a fight between their classmates. True to his word, he could only sit there and watch her settle the issue like the class president she is.

He was starting to feel slightly tormented with the way things were, but he knew he had to keep his emotions in check. He didn’t want to cause more trouble than necessary and he trusted that his lady would come to him if she’s really feeling suffocated.

He’ll just try again later.

Throughout the day, Marinette attended to her classmates on issues they raised. She had also doubled down on her efforts to make sure no one gets akumatised, always on the lookout for anyone who’s feeling down and going ahead to comfort them.

The lunch bell finally rang, and Adrien was delighted that he could get to Marinette’s side. Until he remembered that he had to go back to the mansion for lunch. He cursed. He sent a text to Marinette, asking if it’s okay for her to meet up with him for the last 15 mins of lunch break.

She was okay with it.

His lunch was like most other days, alone, but he considered himself lucky as he’s able to get away from the mansion promptly. Adrien devoured his lunch in the most elegant way possible, Nathalie was still around after all.

The ride back to school was a blur, but he ran out of the car as soon as he saw Marinette sitting at the staircase. He was not expecting her to be here, but in the canteen instead.

“Oh, I was helping my parents, you know how hectic it can be once we have a massive order,” she filled in.

He frowned, “my lady, you could’ve told me, I would have brought a packed lunch for you.”

“Dearest Chaton, there’s no need to. I had lunch, I live in a bakery after all,” she giggled at his silliness. “Besides, that massive order is finally done, and I do wonder how you are going to bring lunch to me,” she teased.

Adrien flushed and led them to a secluded area, far away from the canteen. “A-anyway, is there anything I can do to help? I don’t want you to get overwhelmed.”

Marinette thought about it for a while, but Adrien just voiced his thoughts.

“How about the bakery? Allow me to help when there’s a massive order like this one.”

“You aren’t free either, Misterbug, don’t worry about it.” She brought her hand to the hair behind his ears and caressed it. “What you can do instead, is to make sure our classmates are okay. Reach out when they are feeling down. Same goes for you, don’t forget that.”

Adrien beamed, at her touch and at him being able to offer her his assistance. “Don’t worry Buguinette, you can count that on me.”

5 minutes before the end of class, Marinette told Alya to head home without her and excused herself to the toilet. Once she returned to class, the room was dark and empty, with her belongings all nicely packed and placed on her table. Marinette tiredly walked back to her seat and sat down, staring into space. She was so lost in thought that she didn’t hear the doors opening.

Marinette must’ve been worn out for the day if she didn’t acknowledge that Adrien had entered the room and plotted himself next to her.

Worried, he took hold of her hand and squeezed it. “Marinette, you’re not alone in this.”

“Mhm.” Marinette had turned her head towards him and muttered, but her eyes were not focused. Adrien was unsure if she actually knew he was there, or if she was still in a daze. At a loss on how to proceed with this, he did the only thing he knew that would get a reaction out of her.

He leaned in to gently nuzzle her cheek and purred. He continued his ministrations for a while longer before he felt a hand lightly settled itself within his hair. He stopped to look at her, Marinette now had her eyes closed and had her head slightly tilted away to give him more access. Her shoulders seemed to relax even more, and the hand that he held earlier on had squeezed back.

Adrien felt Marinette grabbed his hair and pulled his face to hers, to continue whatever he was doing to her. And he complied.

He nosed her cheek and purred, brushing his lips at any skin contact he had with her. That combination brought Marinette to pull him in even more, and Adrien changed his course to nuzzle at her neck. His free hand went to her waist and pulled her in closer, pressing her body to his and closing any gaps they had before.

“Adrien…”

Marinette sighed at the contact and he tightened his hold on her, his previously closed lips now grazing his teeth on her neck and placing open kisses wherever they went. Marinette gasped at his touch and Adrien nibbled in response.

“AHA!”

They jumped apart at the booming voice that came from none other than Alya.

“You two have been acting weird ever since this morning at the lockers—”

“W-what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Agreste. Stealing Mari from our backs?” Adrien realised that Nino was also in the classroom. “Seriously? You may be sneaky, but Marinette isn’t exactly subtle.”

He regarded Marinette, who was silently looking down. He panicked.

“A-Alya, w-wait! Not so loud!”

“What? Am I exposing something? Nino, can you believe this?”

“I-I can explain!”

“Oh rea—“

Everything that occurred in the next few minutes happened so fast that Adrien had no idea what’s going on anymore. He was currently standing in a park, hand still clutched within Marinette’s.

He just knew that Marinette had suddenly burst out laughing, grabbed his hand and their items, and ran out of the classroom.

“Oh my gosh, did you see their faces?” she cackled.

“My lady, I’m pretty sure my face right now matches theirs,” he chuckled. “Everything was in a daze.”

She laughed harder, and Adrien was delighted to see her enjoying herself at the absurdness of it all.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Minou!”

Marinette grinned stupidly at the fond memories she has had with Adrien earlier that day and was doodling nonsense on the homework she was trying so desperately to complete. A knock on her window brought an end to her endless replaying and doodling. She glanced at her window and went to her skylight to unlock it.

“How are you feeling, Buguinette?” Chat asked as they moved down from her bed to allow for more space.

“Oh you know, the usual. What’s that in your arms?”

“Oh! Um, just… something to remind you that I’m here always,” he said as he handed her a Chat Noir plushie and a black paw print keychain.

She took hold of them and had some ideas as to where to place them.

He scratched his neck, “it’s not much, but I hope it helps—”

Marinette tackled him to the floor, her gifts still in her hand. “Thank you so so much mon Chaton,” she enveloped him in a bear hug.

Chat took a moment to focus his sight before he wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her hair. “Anytime, my lady.”

They stayed in the position for a while before Marinette pulled back, “which reminds me!”

Chat let go and looked at her curiously. She carefully placed her gifts on her table before heading over to her drawer and took out a macaron. Chat’s tail swung excitedly at the sight of it.

“Here you go,” she smiled.

“Oh my gosh, Marinette! Thank you! May I?”

She nodded and he began peeling the plastic wrap from the macaron and took a bite.

“Hmm!” He moaned. “It’s passion fruit! My favourite flavour! And it still tastes so fresh!”

“I bake them every Sunday. Who knows when the perfect opportunity is going to come up. It finally did after 4 years,” she mumbled her last sentence.

But Chat heard it nonetheless and started crying.

“C-Chat?”

“Marinette, y-you never gave up on us.”

“Of course. Never.” She held his hands and regarded him, wiping away his flowing tears. She hugged him and kissed his forehead.

Hand in hand, with the soft and loving gaze they threw at each other, they exchanged promises that regardless of what happens in the future, they’ll have each other.

Always.

#mesfics #miraculous ladybug #fanfic #mlb fanfic #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ladybug #chat noir #post chat blanc #hurt/comfort #unstained

4 notes · View notes

jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 3 years

Text

The art of seduction...

For the lovely @fandoms-are-my-friends-1321

Hope you’ll enjoy!

"OMG, what have I done?"

(Y/N) wanted to disappear six feet under after her fiasco. How could she manage to embarrass herself in front of her boss?

She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed: she worked for the most powerful man in Gotham City, she should not fail like this!

A small smile came across her lips when she thought about her employer. Oswald Cobblepot, the elected mayor of Gotham, was also one of the rising crime lords.

She worked for him for 5 years, and she witnessed his rise to power with amazement.

And she fell in love with him. Madly, truly, deeply.

But now, she just managed to look like a fool, and she wanted to erase this inglorious moment from her memory.

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?"

The familiar voice woke the woman from her daydreaming, and she noticed the presence of Victor Zsasz.

The henchman and (Y/N) get along since they started working together under Cobblepot's orders. And he was the only one who knew about her feelings for their boss...

"Apart from humiliating myself in front of the boss? Yes, I feel like a million bucks!"

The bald man chuckled.

"I have noticed... Don't worry about Oswald: he did not even pick up on your failed attempt of flirting!"

"Are you here to put the boot in again?"

"Hey, it's not my fault if you say I would say God bless you, but it looks like he already did. Seriously girl, do you know how to flirt or what?"

(Y/N) sighed.

"Not really. Most of the time, I am the one men flirted with. Oh wait, harassed would be a suitable description!"

"I'm sorry for you..." mumbled Victor as he massaged the back of his neck.

"Don't be. Now, if you don't mind, I want to be alone and dig my own grave in peace!"

"Come on, don't be over-dramatic! He did not fire you!"

"You got the point..."

Victor cogitated a few moments before declaring:

"Okay, I have a proposition for you!"

"What?" asked the young woman.

"Well, if you want, I can teach you how to flirt!"

(Y/N) raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"You? You know how to hit on someone?"

"My dear (Y/N), I am a man full of surprises! Now, chin up, lady: we have some lessons ahead!

A few moments later, they were alone in a room.

"Okay, first of all: let's check all the qualities you find in Oswald?"

"Physical appearance or character?"

"I don't care... Both, if you want!"

"Alright... So, he is charismatic, smart, powerful, elegant... So charming..."

"Oh my god, put yourself together! It's not the moment to daydream about your twisted prince charming!"

"It's not my fault!"

"Alright, nevermind!" Victor sighed as he raised his hands in a sign of defeat.

"What next?"

"Well... The next step is subtly complimenting him. Let me demonstrate with you..."

He cleared his throat and said:

"Dear, you have the brightest eyes I've ever seen!"

"Uh... Thanks ?"

"You're welcome. Now, your turn: imagine me as Oswald, and say something flirty!"

"Right now?"

"No, in the next century! Of course, right now!"

"Okay, okay! Let me think about something..."

She turned things over in her head before she finally said:

"Sir, you are the most brilliant genius in all Gotham!"

"Not bad, but I am sure you can do better! Go ahead!"

"Right, so... Mister Cobblepot, I wonder how Gothamites did not notice before how amazing you are!"

"Mmmh... Nah! A bit toady for him. Try again!"

"Mmmh... Oh, I know! Sir, no matter what others would say, you are the best man for Gotham!"

"We're getting close... One more time!"

"Oswald, thanks to you, my life has another goal... and it's you!"

Victor slowly clapped.

"Well done, girl! You learn fast!"

"Really?"

"Yes, it's good! Now, next time you want to seduce the boss, you know what to do!"

"Thanks for your help, Victor!"

"Anytime, (Y/N). Anytime."

A week later.

"Okay, (Y/N), time to put into practice what I've taught you!"

"Yes, I know... It's just that I have a knot in my stomach!"

"No need to worry: act naturally! Now, make me proud!"

"Okay, here I go!"

She pulled herself, smiled, and entered Oswald's office. As for Victor, he hid behind the door.

"Good morning, Mister Cobblepot!"

"Ah, good morning, Miss (Y/N). Please, take a seat: we have a lot of work to do!"

During half an hour, they discussed the different projects The Penguin had for his city.

"For the last project, I thought about funding a scholarship for children from single-parent families!"

"Excellent idea, sir! They deserve the same chances as the others!"

"Indeed... Besides, it's a cause close to my heart as I was raised by my mother!"

"I understand, Mister Cobblepot... May I know the name of the scholarship?"

"Of course, where is my mind? I decided to name it "The Gertrude Cobblepot Scholarship for Children in Need"; I named it after my mother!"

A sad smile appeared on his face.

"I owe her so much..."

Seeing him so vulnerable moved (Y/N) who sighed:

"Aw, it's so cute!"

"I beg your pardon?" exclaimed Oswald.

"WTF is she doing?" muttered Victor, surprised.

Panicked, (Y/N) lost her mind and started blattering:

"Sorry, I mean... You are very cute!"

"Cute? Really?" asked Oswald, unconvinced.

"Oh no!" grumbled Victor as he facepalmed.

And it was not the end of the show...

"Nevermind, let's go back to work! So, I was saying..."

He stopped as he noticed (Y/N) staring at him.

"(Y/N)? Are you sure everything is okay?"

"Yes, sorry... It's just that I get lost in your eyes!"

"What ?!"

"I must be dreaming!" groaned Victor as he clasped both his hands on his face.

"It's true: you have such beautiful eyes!"

"Miss... Are you sure you do not have any fever?"

"No... But I am sure being in your arms is the warmest place on Earth!"

"What's this nonsense?"

"It worsens every second! Stop it, (Y/N)!" discreetly whined Victor as he seemed desperate.

But the young woman was not ready to stop...

"Either you're drunk, (Y/N), or you're making a fool of me, and I don't like it!"

"But I'm not making a fool of you, Mr. Cobblepot! Speaking of that, you're not far from the truth: I'm drunk in love with you!"

Oswald was wide-eyed: in his entire life, he has never seen such a scene!

Crossing his arms against his chest, he sighed:

"Tell me the truth, (Y/N): are you just trying to flirt with me?"

Blinking like she woke up from a dream, the woman realized what happened and sputtered:

"OMG, NO! Tell me it's a nightmare!"

"No, welcome to the real world! But I'm waiting for an answer!"

Ashamed by the situation, (Y/N) confessed:

"Yes, indeed! You've finally noticed..."

"Oh, come on! This is a disaster!" whispered Zsasz.

"So, you're flirting with me... Okay, may I know why?"

"Where can I start? You're the most amazing person I ever met, and I am so happy to be among your trusted people! And... As I said before, I fell in love with you on the first day. I tried to subtly flirt with you but, as you can see, it's an epic fail!"

She lowered her head, waiting for a fit of anger. Instead, she saw Oswald chuckling.

"Well, I must say that I admire your bravery (Y/N). You're right: your flirting attempts are not a success... Moreover, they are not really necessary!"

"I guess so..."

"Don't you want to know why?"

"Because I am a silly girl who thinks she can have a romance with her boss?" (Y/N) answered with a sad tone.

"No, you're wrong... Your flirting was not necessary because I already like you!"

"Wait, what?" she exclaimed.

"Oh my, what a twist!" thought Victor.

"That's the truth, (Y/N): you are an astounding woman. I admire your strong will, your loyalty, your smiling character... Everything in you is perfect for me!"

"Mr. Cobblepot..."

"Please, call me Oswald!"

"Oswald... Thank you... For not shut me away!"

A sly smile appeared on Oswald's face.

"Pleasure is all mine, (Y/N). Now that everything is settled and the misunderstanding has disappeared, would give me the greatest honor to join me for a date?"

A wide grin appeared on (Y/N)'s face.

"Of course!"

"Wonderful! Friday evening, 8 p.m.? I know a nice restaurant in the neighborhood: you're going to love it!"

"I am sure..."

"By the way, (Y/N)"

"Yes?"

"I can't give you the world... But I can promise to give you my world!"

"I cannot ask for more!"

While the two lovebirds talked about their future dates, Victor smiled, relieved to see it ended well:

"At least, she reached her goal... But Lord, that girl was close to giving me a heart attack!"

Sometimes, a bad pick up line can bring you the right way to your crush's heart...

#requests #gotham tv show #oswald cobblepot #victor zsasz #robin lord taylor #sandra bullock #anthony carrigan

19 notes · View notes

antiloquist · 4 years

Text

A Gentleman Asks, Rather Than Does - Chapter One

Time to actually officially crosspost this here since someone’s been poking around my AO3 and I had to change my password. Limiting myself to one a day as to not spam.

Summary: The Warrior of Light calls Hildibrand out on his bluff regarding his knowledge of ‘the fairer sex’ and teaches him a thing or two about courting a lady. So begins the dramatic courtship of Hildibrand and the Warrior of Light. Fluff abound, idiocy guaranteed. Hildibrand/Female, non-Lala WoL. Sorry Lala lovers, I couldn’t figure out the height difference.

Fic as a whole is rated E for spice. True spice begins chapter 9.

CW for plot points in later chapters including stalking and implied/referenced assault.

Chapter One: WoL acts on a whim. Mild spice. Rated M.

In hindsight, you should have realized things were going far too smoothly to be true to form. Not once during the course of any of your investigations with this motley crew had everything fallen into place like this. Something was bound to happen; the other shoe had to drop.

And so it did.

It dropped in the form of sudden inclement weather. Upon attempting to charter a way to the Western Highlands, you and your party were informed that all travel to and from Ishgard was suspended for the day or so due to an incoming blizzard, effective about five minutes before you arrived at the gate.

So much for simple.

Defeated for now, you slunk your way back to the gazebo. It was time to plan, and Idyllshire would have to wait.

“WhAt Do We Do NoW, pApA hIlDy?” Gigi asked, large inquisitive eyes turning to his ‘father’.

Hildibrand twisted his hips and pressed his fingers to his temples before seemingly coming up with a brilliant idea. “Ah! Is it not obvious? We merely wait out the storm here and continue on with our brilliant plans when the skies clear!”

Well, yes. That much was obvious. But wait-

“You… you aren’t seriously planning to sit out a blizzard out here, are you?” you asked, glancing around for any other voices of reason. Cyr and Julyan were nowhere to be seen; perhaps they’d made it out of the city before the lockdown.

Hildibrand raised a practically non-existent eyebrow in response. “Whyever not? This is a perfectly fine gazebo!”

“The inspector and I have been through way worse, back before Dalamud!” Nashu added from her perch on the bench. It seemed she’d already made herself comfortable.

“You’ll freeze!”

Gigi tilted his little head to the side as he looked up at you. “Is ThAt TrUe, AuNtIe? WiLl wE fReEzE oUt HeRe?”

That threw you for a loop. “W-well, maybe not you, Gigi...” Could mammets freeze? Logic said yes, but little Gigi had spent all that time buried in the snow and was perfectly fine after a little maintenance…

“It takes more than a little cold to knock a Manderville man down!” Hildibrand exclaimed, flexing.

“Besides, we have the kettle!”

You blinked incredulously. Surely, you should be used to the deficit of rational thought by now, and yet-

“The kettle won’t keep you safe from the wind!” You retorted. Before you could open your mouth to argue further, you heard footsteps coming towards the gazebo.

“Is everything alright out here? I am hearing quite the commotion.”

All four of you turned almost in unison to see Lord Edmont approaching. He wore an amused expression rather than an irritated one.

You bowed slightly. “Lord Edmont. Pray forgive the noise. We were simply debating on what to do next.”

“Ah, yes. Have you heard the city is on lockdown due to an incoming blizzard? I just received word from one of my knights. You should really come inside before you catch cold.”

“I’m trying to explain to these three why sleeping outside in the gazebo through a blizzard is a bad idea.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, gesturing towards your friends.

Edmont was, very understandably, taken aback by the idea. He turned his gaze upon Hildibrand and friends. “Have you three been sleeping out here this entire time?!”

Three simultaneous nods, slightly bashful.

“Why!?”

Hildibrand raised a finger, taking a moment to think. “Er, you see… the funds of a traveling inspector are sometimes…” He seemed reluctant to admit it.

“We’Re RoUgHiNg It LiKe TrUe InSpEcToRs Do!”

Edmont shook his head. “While your sense of adventure is… admirable, I simply cannot very well allow you three to stay outside in this horrid weather. Why, the storm is already starting!” As if to punctuate his point, a gust of wind that chilled even you whipped through the Pillars.

“I would hate to impose…” Hildibrand looked conflicted between his pride and his likely desire to stop being out in the cold, if his shivering was any indication. Every second that passed made it look like the latter was going to win out in the end.

“Nonsense! I insist. It would be poor manners to merely leave an esteemed member of House Manderville and his companions out in the cold.”

Gigi tugged at his hat, shaking his head. “We ArEn’T sTaYiNg In ThE gAzEbO?”

Uh oh. You had to act fast. “Uh, we’re going to go stay in the big gazebo, Gigi! They’ve got more than just a kettle. They’ve got a whole fireplace!”

“A rEaL oNe?”

You nodded. “A real one, with real fire!”

“YaY! bIg GaZeBo!” Gigi jumped for joy.

Edmont couldn’t help but chuckle at Gigi’s enthusiasm. “Yes, a real fire. Though do take care to keep your distance from it, young man.”

“OkAy! ThAnK yOu, UnClE eDmOnT!” Forgetting about the true gazebo for now, Gigi puttered off in the direction of Fortemps Manor.

“Gigi! Hold on a moment, my son!” Hildibrand called, dashing after him.

Nashu hopped up from her seat and ran after Hildibrand. “Wait for me, Inspector!”

You shook your head affectionately as you watched them go.

“What a lively bunch they are,” Edmont commented with a smile. “However did you come to know them?”

“It’s a long, long story. Perhaps Lord Godbert could tell you sometime. But I can assure you that while they may be somewhat… eccentric, they are perhaps some of the kindest souls Eorzea has ever known.”

Edmont nodded. “Then that is more than enough for me. I trust your judgment.” He patted your shoulder affectionately. “Are you staying for dinner?”

You grinned. “You know it.”

After a lively dinner in which miraculously no one was maimed, injured, or heavily insulted, it was time to settle in for the night. All of the guests were given a room… only for Nashu to fall asleep in front of the fireplace with Gigi, who had entered a ‘sleep mode’ of sorts.

Outside, the snow was falling and the wind was howling. It was likely for the best that your entourage had been invited inside, because from what you could see from the window, the gazebo outside was already half-covered with snow and the kettle long snuffed out by the winds.

You retired to your room as you usually did, and settled in for a night’s rest… only to find yourself completely unable to sleep. This happened from time to time; occasionally thoughts kept you up at night, thoughts of the past, the present, the future…

After what you estimated to be about three or so bells of trying, you gave up and decided to see about tea. The halls of the manor were dark, and it was doubtless that everyone was asleep.

Everyone, that was, except Hildibrand.

The man in question was sitting on a couch in the foyer, hunched over parchment and muttering to himself. There was a low fire crackling, which gave the room a dim glow. In the firelight, you could see that Nashu was still fast asleep on the floor, curled around Gigi like a mother coeurl. Someone (probably Edmont or one of the stewards) had draped a blanket over them and put a pillow under Nashu’s head.

“Hildy?” you called softly.

He startled a bit, dropping the quill in his hand. “Oh, it’s just you,” he said, relaxing.

You gave him a tired smile. “Can’t sleep,” you replied, moving to look over his shoulder. “What’s all this?”

“Plans!” he exclaimed, though he thankfully had the sense to lower his voice when Nashu, still curled up by the fire, shifted. She muttered something about chickens as her ears twitched, but otherwise remained fast asleep. Sometimes you envied her ability to sleep anywhere.

“For when we get to Idyllshire?” You leaned over the back of the couch, resting your head on your folded arms as you attempted to make heads or tails of Hildibrand’s elegant scrawl.

He grinned. “Precisely! As sharp as ever, my friend.”

You chuckled. “What have we got planned?”

“Well…” He pointed to a crudely drawn diagram. “I propose that using mainly spoons, we tunnel under where the Grand Sers have made their base and catch them unawares!”

A moment of silence passed between you two, then another.

“Spoons.”

Hildibrand made a face. “This is a work in progress, of course.” He pushed his papers aside. “What do you think?”

“Hmm… well, we should start by questioning the residents when we arri-“

“Ah, I just had the most brilliant idea. When we arrive, we should split up and ask around!”

You snorted in laughter, shaking your head. “Never change, Hildy,” you said, standing up and starting towards the kitchens. “I’m making tea, do you want any?”

“That would be very kind of you!”

You gave him a thumbs up before disappearing into the kitchens to start the kettle.

A few moments later you came strolling back into the foyer with a tray. Upon the tray sat a teapot and two cups and saucers. “I hope you like black tea.”

“Thank you, it-“ For the first time since you’d come into the foyer, Hildibrand looked directly at you… and then promptly looked away, mouth slightly agape.

Huh? What was- oh. You looked down at yourself, remembering you were wearing a nightgown that, while very comfortable, left little to the imagination.

So Hildibrand was shy, hmm? You nearly giggled at the thought. As you poured the cups of tea, you took a moment to look at him as well. Given the late hour, it seemed he’d shed his coat and gloves, setting them neatly beside him. His bow tie hung to one side of his neck and the first two buttons of his shirt were undone. The fire from the hearth gave off a warm glow to the room, reflecting off his eyes in a way that almost made them twinkle.

Your stomach flipped a little. How had you not truly paid attention before to how handsome a man Hildibrand was?

Well, objectively you knew this as it was an undisputed fact. But here and now, with the firelight dancing off the walls and highlighting his strong jawline and muscled form? Now, it was hard to deny on a personal level.

Deciding to test the waters and see where this went, you sat down right next to him after placing his teacup on the table in front of him. “Everything alright, Hildy?”

He nodded stiffly, still not looking at you. “I am completely fine!”

You drew your legs up next to you. “Are you sure? You seem flustered.”

“I assure you, nothing is wrong. But you… are you not cold?”

“Me? I’m not cold at all. Especially not next to you, I’m not.” You patted his arm for emphasis.

Hildibrand cleared his throat. “I-I see…” You could see a hint of a blush on his cheeks… adorable.

“Why would you think I’m cold?” You wanted to hear him say it.

“Well, you see… what you’re wearing… may not be the best choice for cold weather!”

You giggled. “Hildy, are you embarrassed?”

“No! It is simply uncouth for a gentleman to gaze upon a lady in such a state of undress!”

Adorable and polite. Your heart did a few more flips in your chest. Oh, you wanted to gobble him up.

“Even if the lady didn’t mind?”

The thought hadn’t seemed to have occurred to Hildibrand before right now. He turned a little bit back towards you, still not looking at you.

“Honestly, I don’t mind. I wouldn’t have worn it outside my room if I did. And I’ve known you long enough to know you’re not a creep.”

He turned back to face the table at the very least, picking up his teacup and taking a sip. You could practically hear the cogs turning in his head.

You lowered your voice to an attempt at a seductive purr. “And what would you say if I told you I wanted you to look at me, hmm?” you teased.

He raised a finger as if to make a point, but also seemed to be at a loss for words. “Far be it from me to deny a lady such a simple request,” he finally said. And so he turned his gaze upon you.

You felt your heart pounding as his eyes swept your form, wide with reverence. Sometime during the evening, he’d forgone his monocle, leaving his face clearly visible. Oh, and what a nice face it was. Now that you were thinking about him like this, you were really, really thinking about it. Hildibrand may not have been the brightest person out there, but he was kind, sincere, handsome… oh no.

Suddenly you felt a little self-conscious. You swallowed, tongue darting out to wet your suddenly dry lips. “H-Hildy?”

“The most prolific of poets could not do you justice, my lady. You are utterly radiant.”

Holy shit. Where had that come from? Your eyes widened in turn, and you could feel your face heating up. “You truly think so?”

“Of course. I always have. I have eyes, my good woman!”

“You’ve never said anything.”

Hildibrand nodded sagely. “It is hardly gentlemanly to make unsolicited compliments on a lady’s appearance. My mother taught me that from a young age.”

(And calling them old was just fine, apparently.)

Suddenly a lot of things about Hildibrand made more sense. You almost shuddered remembering how effortlessly Julyan had taken out not one but three people during the course of the investigation in Ul’dah.

You chuckled softly. “You did say you were well versed in the ways of the fairer sex.”

Hildibrand looked away for a moment. “About that…”

“Hm?”

He cleared his throat nervously. “‘Tis true I am highly experienced in the art of treating ladies with the utmost respect! However, when it comes to courting one…”

You saw what he was getting at. “You haven’t had the chance.”

He nodded, seemingly grateful that he didn’t have to admit it himself.

“Well, I’m open to the idea.” You placed a hand on top of his.

Hildibrand’s jaw dropped. “A-are you?”

“Whyever not?” you said, parroting his words from earlier in the day. “You’re sweet, earnest, and devilishly handsome. I’d say you’re quite the catch.” You winked, causing Hildibrand’s face to erupt in a blush which in turn caused you to giggle. “You look like you’re surprised. What about your ‘swaths of adoring fans’?” you teased.

“I would never dream of taking advantage of someone’s admiration!” He looked scandalized by the very idea. Gods, how was this man real? He had an ego and a half for sure, but somehow also managed to still be utterly sweet and sincere in his words and actions.

You leaned in closer to him. This close, you could practically count his eyelashes. “If I’m offering, it’s hardly taking advantage, now is it? In fact…” You shifted so that your lips were right by his ear. “I could even teach you a thing or two about how to please a lady.”

Hildibrand stiffened, and you could have sworn the man shivered (and not from the cold). “I suppose not, no. I have a question for you, though.”

“Yes?”

“Are you propositioning me?”

If you hadn’t been supported by the couch, you’d have fallen over from the sheer shock of such an obvious question.

(Was anything ever really obvious to Hildibrand, though?)

“I have been this entire time, yes.” You laughed. “Thank you for noticing.”

Hildibrand huffed a laugh in response. “Well! I must say this is unprecedented!”

You pulled back a little to give him breathing room. “You can say no. I won’t be mad, honest. I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Pray do not mistake my reaction for reluctance! I am merely… pondering my next steps. I would be a fool to refuse a beautiful woman such as yourself!”

You crept your fingers up his arm. “If you don’t know what to do… I could show you?”

He swallowed audibly. “I would be most honored, my lady.”

Grinning, you stood and offered him a hand up. “Not here,” you said, glancing over to the fireplace where Nashu and Gigi were still fast asleep. “Let’s go to my room.”

Hildibrand nodded dumbly and took your hand. You led him down the hall to your room, hips moving in an exaggerated sway the whole time. If you were relaxed about this, hopefully he would be too.

You flitted about your room, setting up candles for mood lighting while Hildibrand took a seat quite politely on your bed. He looked very much like a deer in the caravan lights, and the sight made your heart melt just a little.

Hildibrand looked up at you in awe as you approached, radiating confidence that matched his on an average day.

“Before we start, I want you to know: you can tell me to stop at any time. I don’t want to do something you don’t want to do, Hildy.” You smiled softly at him.

“Er, likewise! I will not force a lady into an uncomfortable situation!”

You chuckled. “There’s not a lot I haven’t done. Hope that doesn’t bother you.”

He shook his head. “A gentleman does not judge one on their history, merely on their present actions. Not to mention that there is no shame to be had in such a thing!”

“You’re sweet.” You took a seat next to him on the bed. “What would you like to do first?”

He froze a moment; apparently he hadn’t expected you to ask him what he wanted. Eyes widened and lips parted slightly, he held up a finger as if to ask for a moment, which you gladly gave him.

“May I… kiss you?” he finally asked, blinking a few times as if to confirm the sight in front of him was indeed real.

You grinned. “You certainly may,” you said, leaning forward and placing a hand on the side of his face as you gazed at him affectionately with eyes half-lidded. You moved closer, but left him space to close the distance or back away, whichever he wanted.

He chose the former, pressing his lips to yours cautiously. You gladly accepted, kissing back softly as to not overwhelm him. It was… it was clumsy to start with, to say the least. His lips were puckered far too much, and it was like kissing a fish.

Pulling back a little, you tilted your head at him. “How was that? Was that nice?” He nodded. “Here, try it like this.” You pursed your lips just as you had before, waiting for him to do the same.

This time was much smoother, he was a lot less stiff. The hand not holding his face came up to tousle through his hair, completely pulling it out of place. You slid your other hand down and around him, pulling him closer to you, and he grunted softly into the kiss in response. Glancing down briefly told you he had no idea what to do with his hands.

The kiss ended much slower this time. As you both pulled back, his eyes fluttered open to look at you, pupils blown wide. The sight almost made you squirm. Kissing him on the cheek, you reached down and tugged on his hands gently. He let you guide them to your waist.

“Is this alright?” you asked. Wordless, he nodded. His hands were large on your waist, and you could feel the heat radiating from them through the thin material of your nightgown. “You’re doing excellent, Hildy.” He shivered at the praise, and you took note of this.

You brought your legs up underneath you as you turned to face him fully, still sitting on the edge of the bed. Both of your hands came up to either side of his face as you kissed him again. This time he seemed to get it, pressing back with intensity equal to your own.

Moaning softly into the kiss, you moved to deepen it. He responded enthusiastically, daring to put one hand up to the side of your face. You broke the liplock momentarily to press a nuzzling kiss into his palm before returning to your target. His goatee scratched ever so slightly against your face, and you giggled at the sensation. With one hand, you silently nudged him to face you as well.

He pulled you closer to him and you happily followed, coming forward and swinging your leg over so your legs were on either side of his firm thighs. Oh, they were as solid as they looked. His grip on you tightened slightly and you responded by grinding down on him. A very solid proof of interest greeted you as well as a throaty moan from him, which you returned with one of your own.

Eager to go already? My, my, this man was full of surprises, you thought.

Your hands eagerly moved down to the buttons on his shirt, fingers fumbling with the fabric. He froze, one hand coming up to stop yours. You stopped immediately, scooting back to give him some room.

“Ah, give me a moment…” he said, breathing heavily.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable.”

Hildibrand looked conflicted. “But you want-“

You shook your head. “Doesn’t matter what I want.” You took his hands in yours and held them. “We go at your pace. It wouldn’t be very ladylike of me to force a gentleman to do something, now would it?” You winked at him.

“It wouldn’t be something I don’t want,” he said, scrunching his face up in thought. “Apologies for my forwardness, but this is something I am very much interested in! Rather…”

“Too fast?” You tilted your head at him, squeezing his hands reassuringly.

He chuckled. “Once again, your powers of deduction are capital!”

“I did learn from the best,” you said, leaning forward and kissing him on the forehead. “That’s you, in case you didn’t realize.”

“Oh.”

You giggled. “You want to just stay like this? We could sleep.” A moment of silence passed. “Just sleep.”

“Ah, what if your friends were to find us?”

“They know what I’m like.” You shrugged. “And I won’t tell if you don’t.”

He shook his head rapidly. “A gentleman does not kiss and tell!”

You grinned, moving to lay down on your bed and patting the area next to you. Cautiously, Hildibrand moved to lay down next to you. You rested your head against his shoulder. “Is this okay?”

Hildibrand was silent a moment before nodding. “This is… nice.” He moved to wrap his arms around you before stopping halfway through. “Er, may I?”

“Please,” you said, giving him a sleepy smile. Despite the fact that your heart was still racing (and so was his, you could feel), you felt comfortably tired now.

He pulled you into his strong arms and settled you down so that your head rested against his chest. You noticed he very pointedly angled his pelvis slightly away from you, and you didn’t press the matter. Instead, you snuggled into his arms and breathed him in. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost the scent of rotting flesh and picked up saltpeter and mammet oil. It was familiar, comforting.

You sighed softly, content. Here in his arms, you felt… safe, secure. Logically you knew that if something were to happen it would be you protecting him instead of the other way around, but it felt nice to be held.

Goodnight, Hildy,” you whispered.

“Sleep well,” he whispered back, and you felt the light pressure of his lips against the crown of your head.

It was there that you drifted off, safe and sound in the arms of your inspector

***

(consent is sexy, y’all)

#ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy xiv #hildibrand #hildibrand manderville #lord help me i'm back on my bullshit #spicy text #my writing

16 notes · View notes

fae-fucker · 3 years

Text

Zenith: Chapter 68-71

Chapter 68

Andi remembers how Kalee gave her a tour of her home and bragged about how she’d be ruling the place someday. Andi asks why her and not her brother.

Oh, Androma. Kalee had laughed then, tossing her head back in that glorious, carefree way that made everyone around her want to come closer. You and I both know that a woman can rule better than any man ever could. And I’ll look twice as good doing it, too.

Shinsay, voices muffled as their heads are stuck up each other’s asses: This is definitely, 100%, one whole, bona fide, authentic, organic, home-grown feminism that we just put in our book.

Also ... take a look at that weak-ass description that’s supposed to show us how good and cool Kalee is. When she laughs (in a way that tbh have you ever laughed? be real with me now), people want to ... come closer?

Wow! That’s like saying ... when I scratch my face, people want to call their mom. When I brush my hair, people may spontaneously feel the need to take a slightly deeper breath.

Talk about low standards. Hey fellas, you ever see someone laugh and just kinda sorta want to approach them but not really? Yeah, that’s the stuff.

Andi thinks about how Kalee would’ve been a better ruler than her dad, who doesn’t even bother coming down to meet his tortured son because that’s how incompetent and evil and heartless he is. I mean, Andi doesn’t know that Valen is the result of rape, but still. Idk if I’m on board with how the book demonizes the hell out of the General but tried to make whatsherface sympathetic. And by “I don’t know if I am” I mean “I’m definitely not what the fuck is wrong with these people.”

Dex tries to make some conversation and Andi says that nobody befriended Kalee, that only super duper special people were CHOSEN by her to become her friends.

I’m ... not sure how this is supposed to be better. In fact, I’d say it’s worse?

“Kalee chose the people she wished to let into her life. I was honored that she allowed me to be assigned to her.”

“Honored?” Dex asked, raising a bruised brow. “Or damned?”

“I’ll let you know after we talk to the general,” Andi said.

I’m gonna fiking piss. “I’ll tell you whether this important life event was honor or damnation, but like, later, after we have this appointment, ok?” Why is this so funny. Have I fully lost my marbles?

Andi foreshadows some escape tunnels that are hidden all around the estate so Dex has a logical way to save them at the end of the book. I’m sure there is a more elegant way of setting that up, but I can’t be bothered to find one, so let’s call it acceptable and move on.

They arrive at their destination and Andi notices that Alfie seems bummed out. She muses that he’s “capable of far more complex thinking than she’d originally guessed,” which, DOY, but ok, and then thinks about how he’s saved her crew and remembered Gilly’s Marketable Space Pet, which implies he has some “understanding of feelings and attachments.”

That hamster wheel do be spinnin’.

The “head Spectre” comes out to meet them and ...

It took everything in her to speak as the truth struck her.

“Dad?”

DUN DUN DUUUN, it’s Andi’s dad! Also, “the truth struck her?” What truth? That it’s your dad? Was that in doubt? Did you really need a moment to connect the dots, to realize this is your dad? Was there a moment where you saw this man, who is your dad, and thought that this wasn’t your dad, only for the truth to strike and OH SHIT THAT’S MY DAD!! WOW HOLD YOUR HORSES EVERYONE I NEED TIME TO PROCESS THAT THIS IS INDEED MY DAD.

Tbh if you strapped knives to a roomba it’d have more charisma and presence as the protagonist than Andi. And let’s be real, more intelligence.

Yet another chapter ends on a pointless cliffhanger only for the scene to continue exactly where it left off!

You’re just full of surprises, Shinsay.

Chapter 69 (nice)

Andi recaps everything that she’s gone through after the Kalee crash up to the fight with the big alien dude who got deus ex machina-d by Alfie and how she nearly kissed Dex, which gets written as extra special, just so she can make this point:

But this...her father, as General Cortas’s head Spectre?

This might actually kill her.

And aside from how generically melodramatic it is, I can’t help but recall this, from chapter 7:

The man in front of her was a victim of her foolishness. Beside her was the man who’d rejected her love.

The two of them, together? It was nearly enough to shatter Andi.

Andi has the same reaction as I do when in a room with multiple men. Except in her case I think it’s supposed to be deep and personal.

Anyway, self-plagiarism aside, Andi thinks about how her dad was always there for her but then one day wasn’t when he didn’t support her on her trial and how conflicted she feels about him, both wanting to demand justice but also wanting comfort. This is actually quite touching and feels very grounded and realistic.

General Cortas rubs it in that Andi’s dad, “Comander Racella”, has been very loyal and hardworking since he was promoted after Andi’s trial. Andi hopes that her father actually hates the general and was forced to work for him as some sort of punishment for what happened with their daughters.

The general says the situation on Adhira has been taken care of, and when Andi asks whether Xen Ptera attacked because of Valen and her crew’s presence on Adhira, the general says that’s classified. For reasons? Idk. Seems pretty obvious to me, or maybe he just doesn’t know?

Dex tries to yap but Cortas flexes his big dick and reminds Dex that he’s a Guardian now, and Dex is too much of a baby to risk his regained status so he shuts up. This is all spelled out for us by Andi’s inner monologue, because we’re idiots.

The general claims the Xen Pteran forces have been wiped out, saying how it’s probably all they had since there’s few able-bodied and willing people to recruit for war after their planet got fucked, and when Andi presses him for why the attack happened now and on Adhira, he says:

“War never really ends, Androma. The desire for revenge is often too strong to forget.”

“War never ends ... But me and my crew totes ended that war just now. They don’t have any more soldiers so this war is over.” Makes sense, sir.

Cortas says that queen Alara is safe and will be at the Peace Summit, which Andi immediately tells him to cancel because it would be the perfect opportunity for another attack. Cortas replies by saying that Arcardius is impenetrable and that the day the Olen System successfully invades will be the day “stars fall from the sky” which is a very poetic and not at all natural way to say something like this, so it’s there for ... idk dramatic irony? He also reminds her that the Summit is important because it celebrates the peace after the war and the unity between the systems and I’m here like ... for a guy who says war never ends, you sure seem happy to celebrate a war ending and don’t believe one is going on right now. But I guess these characters just exist to spout meaningless yet deep-sounding nonsense at each other.

Dex reminds the general that they’ve done their end of the deal, at which point the general conveniently decides to prolong it out of nowhere and essentially forces Andi and Dex to be Valen’s bodyguards at the Peace Summit by holding Andi’s crew and ship and Dex’s money and status hostage. Thanks for ensuring the main characters are there for the climax, sir! Appreciated!

Dex and Andi leave in a huff.

Chapter 70

We’re in Lira’s POV as she reminisces about her childhood with Lon while he’s recovering from his near-death-experience.

So she sat by [Lon’s] side for endless hours, until the warm clutches of sleep stole her away.

She dreams about flying on an “Adhiran darowak” but then DUN DUN DUUUN Adhira below turns into Xen Ptera and it’s horrible!

“No,” Lira gasped. Her heart began to crack. Fissures spread through it, reaching cold fingers through every valve until Lira felt darkness stealing her away.

So the editor just left that in, huh? Just let Shinsay use the exact same wording in less than 200 words? Must’ve been stolen away by the editing fairy for editing crimes while reading this.

Lira is woken up by Alara, who got here so fucking fast she must be part-Sonic on her father’s side. You’d think a planetary leader would have more to do after a sudden and deadly attack on her home planet, but I guess Adhirans are so chill they’ll just let their leader fuck off to take care of her angsty teenage niece instead.

Lira says that she’ll do anything to make up for bringing Valen to Adhira, to which Alara says that the only thing Lira will do is “follow her heart,” which is sweet of her to say but also really convenient and makes this whole decision easier for her.

I mean, it’s nice that Alara is so supportive, but 1) narratively, it removes the conflict that was introduced only a few chapters ago 2) it makes Alara seem like she’s only there to be the supportive cool aunt and the Good Queen, without any expectations or wants of her own. Like, wasn’t the pressure from Alara something that gave Lira actual conflict? Idk. Seems too easy, is what I’m saying.

Lira didn’t let go of her aunt until the tears dried up. Until they sat down on either side of Lon’s bedside, held his hands and spoke of happier times. The beauty of a family that could come together, broken, and still find a way to become something whole.

You’re one step away from “Ohana means family” over here, Shinsay. Stop spelling shit out. WE. GET. IT. Also, whose narration is this? We’ve mostly stuck to third person limited, so ... is Lira thinking this? Is she thinking this shit while it’s happening? About her own family and situation? What the fuck?

Shinsay couldn’t keep their suspiciously sticky fingers out of their own writing and let it breathe so it comes out looking like God’s mistake.

Anyway, Lon wakes up and Alara tells him what went down on Adhira.

Chapter 71

We’re back with Andi, who just got out of a bath and is bitterly admiring her “private quarters” when she’s interrupted by DUN DUN her dad! He’s been waiting for her!

It’s all very tense. Before they can really start talking, though, we get a flashback. No, really. This whole tense reunion between father and daughter is interrupted by a lengthy flashback brought on by Andi watching her dad and Remembering.

Because Shinsay.

It’s a flashback to Andi in a cell, the day before she was supposed to be executed. Her dad tells her that her mother is "not well” and we find out his name is Oren. As they’re saying their tearful goodbyes, Oren slips Andi a key and tells her “Bay Seven. Tomorrow at dawn.”

The flashback ends with Andi’s cell standing empty the next morning.

Very cool and all that.

Back in the now, Andi rightfully chews her dad out for being a cowardly little bitch and throwing his teenage daughter under the bus for the sake of status. Something he freely admits to doing. He says he and her mother had to struggle to rebuild their reputation after she ruined it, and that he believes his daughter died with Kalee and that whoever he saved in the cell was already the Bloody Baroness even if she didn’t know it yet. Then he fucks off.

It’s all extremely silly. It would’ve been heartbreaking in any better book, but instead, it just feels like it’s tacked on for the sake of adding even more angst to Androma’s character. In fact, she’s not even upset at this. Instead she just carves some more tallies into her swords, dances some more with the dead, and then sneaks out.

No really, it’s written like a list.

She waited for the tears to come. But they never did.

Instead she sat alone, adding more tallies to her swords. Dancing with the dead inside her head.

Why is this so funny! I think it’s because both the tally-carving and the ghost-dancing is supposed to be these deep and haunted things she does that’s given a fair amount of weight and focus, but then it’s just written out like this like it’s just some generic routine shit she does like brushing her teeth or wiping her ass.

Yup, there she goes, doing her generic angsty shit one after the other. Emotional whiplash glossed over for the sake of moving the plot along. She’s in such a bad mental state that we simply MUST ignore it and move on.

Also, I want to highlight how convenient it is for Shinsay to already have Andi suspect and previously coming to terms with how her parents don’t love her before this confrontation. Like, we see her father save her tearfully, yet Andi has almost no hope that he still loves her. Or, she does, but when it’s squashed, she just ... accepts it? Because hey, she already processed that trauma years before! Makes it easy!

Wouldn’t it make it more impactful if all these years, she’s hoped that she has a home to come back to? That her father’s final act of saving her meant they love her still and want her to come back? And now she finds out that they never even mourned her loss? Wouldn’t that be heart-wrenching? And also add to the idea that Andi wants to return to Arcardia, both because it’s her home planet but also because that’s where her parents are? Instead we’re led to believe Andi wants to return, but when she does, she hates it here, she knows nobody wants her here, and she wants to leave immediately.

I seriously question the inclusion of this subplot and these characters. It adds nothing, changes nothing, and is just there to make Andi more angsty, which she already is, so ... why is this here lmao?

Shinsay really went “let’s squander all our potentially interesting ideas and concepts for the sake of more cheap angst and making our protag a cool emotionless badass who don’t care for no thing.”

#eff reads: zenith

7 notes · View notes

experimentalmadness · 4 years

Text

The Invite

Please enjoy me going absolutely feral over my silly OC and writing pre-supervillain material of her and Harvey’s friendship. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have more coming.

----

Jacky could feel Miri practically vibrating with excitement as she wheeled her from the car up the ramp to Wayne Manor. Normally Miri would never let anyone push her chair, but Jacky needed something to hold on to or she was going to be sick.

The Ripley sisters, Gotham’s jumped-up gutter trash, standing at the entrance to Wayne Manor. This had to be the start of some sick joke. She just hoped they weren’t the punchline. Security made her sweat and she had to remind herself she wasn’t on a job, and no one here knew her. She fished for their invitations and smiled rigidly as it was scanned and they were escorted in.

“It is so much more beautiful than I could have imagined! Ah, Jacky, take a picture, take a picture!” Miri urged.

“They allow that in here?”

But of course she obliged, pulling out her phone to snap a few discrete shots of the two of them. A few well dressed guests gave them a look, Jacky forced down the urge to sucker punch them, wondering how many of the elite here tonight secretly owed money to Falcone or Moroni, and how many she’d see at the end of her gun another night. Thinking about work felt wrong...especially now.

Jacky wheeled Miri down the long corridor, past the works of art hung up on the halls and the sculptures and casings in a place that felt more like a museum instead of one man’s house. Spilling out at the top of a grand foyer Miri gave an awed gasp while Jacky rolled her eyes. It was beautiful, stunning, actually. A band played while Gotham’s elite milled around delicately placed tables, danced on the cleared floor, or mingled out the veranda in the summer night. The floor to ceiling windows gave a pristine view of the immaculate gardens beyond where lights glowed, showing footpaths and garden house where even at this distance she could see a few guests grabbing drinks.

This was a mistake. They shouldn’t have agreed to this invitation.

“How are we going to get down?” Jacky asked, observing staircases on either side of the balcony.

“I believe I can assist with that,” a voice from behind offered.

Jacky turned, wheeling her sister as she moved. “Oh, my goodness!” Miri squeaked. “Mr. Wayne..I...I...you don’t need to trouble yourself.”

Bruce Wayne certainly lived up to the tabloid shots of him. He laughed at that. “Nonsense, you’re guests in my home, allow me to show you a little trick.” He gave a wink at Miri, and if her sister hadn’t been made of stronger stuff Jacky almost certainly would have thought she’d fall for him on the spot and then Lord help her.

Waiting for the staircase to clear, Bruce moved aside the intricately carved lion’s head at the top bannister. Jacky raised an eyebrow at the button underneath. As he pressed it the stairs all retracted slowly, creating a gentle slopping ramp. Miri was impressed. Jacky had questions. With a gallant hand Bruce showed the way down and Jacky took her hands off the wheelchair, letting Miri wheel herself beside a much better looking escort. “So may I inquire as to the names of my guests this evening.”

“Oh, I’m Miriam Ripley, and this is my sister Jacqueline—”

“That same Ripley’s that own the bakery down 9th? Of course! Harvey’s told me all about you.” To his credit, Bruce looked genuinely surprised and delighted to make the connection. He smiled at Miriam, no shock there, Miri was as beautiful as a pixie in her summer blue gown and Bruce Wayne’s reputation preceded him. Luckily Miri was too smart to be blindsided.

As they made their way down the ramp, Bruce offered a hand to Jacky. “Jacqueline, pleasure to finally meet you as well,” he smiled, but years in her line of work hadn’t made her an idiot. Bruce Wayne was a flirt, he was a charmer, a playboy and probably whatever else the news rags loved to spew, but he was also a liar. The smile never reached his eyes and Jacky had the uncomfortable sensation of being scanned. Rich men must have their reasons for hiding all manner of sins.

She shook his hand. “Come to the shop some time, Mr. Wayne. I just man the counter, but I’m sure Miri could manage to make something special.”

“I’ll have to do that, Miss. Ripley.”

“This idiot isn’t taking all of your time, is he, Jacky?”

There he was. Harvey barreled in, one hand going around Bruce’s shoulders, the other still holding onto a champagne flute. “We were just getting introduced,” Bruce said with a slight laugh. Ah, interesting. That one was sincere.

“I think Harvey is just glad to have a few familiar faces here,” Gilda Dent strode over, elegant and friendly as ever. “And to be honest, so am I,” She bent down to kiss Miri on the cheek and straightened to do the same to Jacky, whispering in her ear. “We’re sneaking some drinks out in the garden later, just us lower east siders.”

Jacky adored Gilda and that made every second she stayed in her presence the best and the worst. “Bless you,” Jacky smiled, all teeth.

“Now, if you don’t mind I’m going to introduce Miriam to two of Gotham’s best patisseries,” Gilda winked.

Jacky shot her sister a clear “don’t leave me here” sidelong look but Miri only shrugged. “Lead the way,” she said as she wheeled off after Gilda. It was going to take a total of fifteen minutes at most before Miri had charmed her way around every corner of this party. She was good at that. Bruce Wayne didn’t linger long after either, remarking that he had to go put in some face time with two potential big investors.

“And then there were two,” Jacky laughed nervously.

“Jacky, seriously, thank you for coming,” Harvey said with a nervous laugh of his own. “Bruce said I had to do at least one of these investor galas for the campaign, but if I have to fake another smile at some other rich prick who doesn’t know half of what is going on in their own city I’m going to break something. You want a drink? I’m getting you a drink.”

He talked a big game at being out of his element, but he smiled and shook hands with every single person they passed on their short trip to the bar. Jacky followed a few paces behind. He knew everyone’s names. Of course he did. Harvey finished the last of the champagne, setting the glass down at the bar top. Jacky opened her mouth to order when Harvey spoke first with her exact drink of choice.

“Whiskey sour, hard on the syrup, better make it a double.”

“Right, I’m filing a restraining order because you shouldn’t know that,” Jacky cocked her arm back to give him a jab on the shoulder, but stopped herself. They weren’t out at some dive bar, or in the back of her shop. “Aw, jeeze,” she rubbed the back of her neck. “Feel like some kind of idiot in this getup.”

The dress was not to the caliber of everyone else’s here. She’d found it in some thrift store and liked the purple color enough to buy it.

“You look stunning.” Harvey slid her the drink.

Those words were going to get her drunk faster than the whiskey would. The drink burned a little as it went down. “Ok we got the obligatory compliments out of the way, how’s the big night actually going? You funded enough to take over the world yet?”

“Let’s start with Gotham, that’s about all I can handle at the moment.”

Jacky did not trust politicians. Didn’t like their smarmy slogans, or their false promises. Every last one in Gotham was so deep into the pockets of Falcone or Moroni it never mattered what they said. “Hey, if it takes one night like this to make you the DA then it’s worth it,” she said.

“Can we take that statement to print, Miss Ripley?” Harvey mimed a microphone in front of her.

“Enough to get the pins on the counter and the posters all over the shop’s walls, yeah,” Jacky took a long drink to get herself to stop staring. The blue eyes really drew you in, he talked to you like he really wanted to get to know you. How else would the big shot lawyer have even bothered making friends with the barista?

She finished her drink. She was going to need so much more to get through the night. “Should probably go talk to your backers, Harvey. Can’t spend all night talking to me, I don’t have the kind of money you’re looking for.”

“Oh the parasites can get me the rest of the night. You and Miri are probably the only real Gothamites here and I’d rather talk to you...don’t tell Bruce I said that. Hey, how about a dance?”

She was not drunk enough for that. “Yeah right,” she snorted. “Tabloids would have a field day if they caught you dancing at your own campaign fundraiser with a strange woman who is decidedly not your wife.”

“Or, think of the free publicity for the shop when your name gets printed in the Gazette?” Harvey said, ever the optimist. “C’mon Jacky, buy me just a little time before I have to throw myself to the wolves?”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the bar towards the dance floor. Jacky shook her head, but her traitorous lips pulled back in a smile. This game of pretend was going to fall apart one day. His other hand went around her waist, warm and secure, the two things she always felt around him. This was too close. Those eyes, that smile, at this proximity were lethal. He was perfect. Gotham’s golden child. He was going to change this whole city, make it a better place, maybe give people like her a chance for once. And that meant one day he’d dance little Jacky Ripley into a nice and tidy jail cell of her own. How would he look at her then? The shy shop girl. The hitwoman. The liar.

“Harvey...you know I should probably tell you I can’t dance,” she said softly.

“Aw damn,” Harvey laughed. “And there goes my idea of having you make me look good.”

#Harvey Dent #Jacky Ripley #Two Face #absolutely losing it over this stupid OC thanks for indulging me #her life is actively on fire and she has a crush on the worst person possible

15 notes · View notes

madamichaicha · 4 years

Text

Tryst (Kakashi x Mei)

The rather harsh and barbaric reputation of the Bloody Mist Village faded with its former leader’s passing. And in Yagura’s place, the young Godaime Mizukage transformed Kirigakure, and restored it to the highly functioning and prestigious shinobi nation it is today.

Mizukage Mei, an incendiary flower, a woman more perceptive than most and known for her lonesome beauty, had succeeded in stabilizing her village after such a dark and blood stained history. With time, her reputation preceded her, with reforming internal policies and improving diplomatic affairs, Mei tirelessly worked night and day, obliging her Kage duties and responsibilities. She was sacrificing her personal life, and all that it included, for the sake of the village and its people. But some days were harder than most, and on those days, Mei often found herself craving the touch of another. She really hated how picky she had become with age, and often cursed her damned sex drive. But she craved the intimate touch of another, especially after long and demanding days.

At the reminder of her most recent pact… a secret pact she had made just days prior, Mei chuckled darkly as she felt her cheeks warm at the fresh memory. Opening her window, trying to cool her flushed face, the Mizukage finished dressing and readied herself for the gala event the Feudal Lords and Daimyo were throwing downstairs in her honor, somewhat ignoring the faint but familiar chakra signature idling just stories below.

To think you would actually be waiting outside my window…

Smirking under the long bangs that shrouded her face, Mei combed through her long locks one last time and applied a bit of color to her lips. After blowing herself a kiss in the mirror, she stood and made her exit, turning back to give the open window a last minute glance before disappearing into the stairwell.

With one hand gracing the banister, Mei descended the grand staircase in the most dignified of ways, all befitting of the prestigious diplomatic leader she had come to embody. With each stair, her long legs slipped through the thigh high slit in her cerulean gown, the light silk fabric flowing behind her with ease as she made her way down to the main floor, where her hand was met with an obligatory kiss from her head guard, Ao.

"We've got unexpected company, my lady."

"So it seems. Just remember what we discussed, and see that it gets taken care of."

"Yes ma’am."

"Be sure to fetch me when it’s done, okay?"

"Yes ma’am."

"Good. Now if you’ll excuse me… I have some schmoozing to do.”

With a deep and reflective inhale, Mei wore her seductive grin across the floor, her charisma guiding her through the crowd of cretins and pompous Lords and Ladies that had gathered in hopes of appeasing their Kage. It annoyed her to no end, but she had to control her emotions. What did these people know about being a shinobi… a kunoichi even? They knew nothing of pain, sacrifice, or true loss. The only loss they knew involved the loss of paper from their wallets. It was disgusting, really.

Day and night these pigs drool over me, bitching about money here and money there… offering mere pocket change for high rank missions, but dropping tons of cash for pointless ass kissing parties like this… these idiots! This whole party could have funded my shinobi for weeks! What a waste.

Clearing her thoughts and throat, Mei simply offered a polite and reserved smile… gritting her teeth to quell the lava she was tempted to spew during such trite and pointless conversations. They went nowhere and provided little, if any, substance. After making her rounds, talking to all the “important” individuals in attendance, she sat down at her chair at the head of the long and excessively adorned dining hall table where they were to enjoy an elegant five course meal.

Rolling her eyes at the pomp of it all, Mei sat displeased. Disinterested eyes watched everyone enjoy their meal, her restless and perfectly manicured nails drumming on the ostentatious table cloth. Bored with always being the center of attention, Mei often made it a point to stare down each one of the men who let their lingering gazes go unchecked in such long, lewd intervals. Even whilst their wives sat beside them, their disgusting glances still sought her out. But as she returned the favor, putting them under severe scrutiny, she reveled in watching them unravel and fall to pieces. They thought they were so smooth, but as soon as she played at their own game, they crumbled before her… mere specs of ash.

Ha, those pigs! They should be so lucky!

Scoffing at the useless scum littering her presence, her mind flashed with more appealing images, her cheeks flushing with remembrance.

"Hmm, I wonder how things are going…" she whispered to herself, turning up the glass as she finished the remainder of her Sake.

Proving to be impatient and politely excusing herself from the table as the final course dishes were collected, the ball continued behind her, the music drowning out her enthusiastic humming as she jovially ascended the stairs. She couldn't bother waiting for a signal now, not when she knew he was so close.

Meanwhile…

Kakashi stood below the tallest building in Kirigakure, his eyes drifting towards the windows of the Kage quarters as he made his perimeter sweep. Noting the security detail at the front doors seemed to be excessive tonight, he watched from the shadows as fancy carriages and ornate palanquins brought in an endless parade of stuffy upper class citizens. Judging by their formal attire, and the distant hum of music, the festivities must have already started.

Satisfied that nothing else seemed out of the ordinary, Kakashi took a seat and leaned back against the pillars of the building across the street, pulling out his ever present copy of Icha Icha Special Shinobi Edition, now with twelve additional pages of full color illustrations. It had been a wondrous gift.

But before his eye could make its way through a whole page, he briefly glanced up at the lit window again, this time, wide open with its light blue curtains undulating in the breeze.

It had to be a sign.

Smiling to himself beneath the taut fabric of his mask, he laughed off his attempt to hinder his impatience, stowing his beloved book in his back pouch as he stood.

It was time for a quick visit.

Sleuthing through the dark of night, he made his way across the street in a flash. After he was sure he had not been seen by the guards, he concentrated his chakra to the bottoms of his feet and scoured up the building in no time, light on his toes as he slipped through the open window and into the seemingly empty room. With his eye searching for his target, his brow creased a bit as he felt some what disappointed.

Was his timing off?

Had he misread the situation?

Promising himself he’d return later in the evening, Kakashi sighed as he turned back towards the window. Before he could make his escape, he felt the air leave his lungs as he was thrown to the ground, his body hitting the floor with a jarring thud. Coughing and sputtering Kakashi held up his hands innocently, trying to explain the misconception, but his words fell on deaf ears as he was picked up and dragged along by two burly no-nonsense shinobi.

Tossing his body into a chair like it was a rag doll, the two voiceless thugs secured Kakashi’s hands behind the back of the chair. After his ankles had been bound to each leg of the chair as well, Ao stepped in front of the masked intruder, his stone cold stare beaming straight through the man who was laughing nervously at the whole situation.

"Look… I think there has been a huge misunderstanding. See, I was just-"

"Just trying to what? Creep into the Mizukage’s bedroom? Seems you really are just a pervert, aren’t you, Copy Nin?"

"Well, that is a matter of opinion. But you should know, I had no ill intentions towards Mei."

*SLAP*

"You dare use her first name in my presence, you perverted punk?! You shall address her as Lady Mizukage, unless you feel like losing that tongue of yours” Ao warned, pulling his hand back, satisfied with the harsh hit across the smug leaf ninja’s face.

Accustomed to interrogation and prisoner etiquette, Kakashi barely flinched as the back of Ao’s hand made contact on the curvature of his cheek bone, his exposed eye blinking once before staring back up at the narrowed eye of the other.

"I’m sure you’ll find that Lady Mizukage is rather attached to my tongue, as am I. So if you’ll just hear me out… I’m sure we can all have a good laugh about this.”

*SLAP*

Scoffing at the Copy Nin’s ill attempt at humor, Ao retracted his hand once again, pleased with his hit across the offending mouth. He really had no patience for this man, and was taking his job a little too seriously at this point, smirking down at the other with a sense of superiority.

Still tingly from the last backhand across his face, Kakashi chuckled briefly. Spitting a bit of blood out through his mask, he turned his amused face back towards the man in the eye patch who seemed to be enjoying this.

"I’m not interested in anything you have to say, Hatake. You are trespassing and I should have you dealt with accordingly. You are a long ways from home, so I’m having a hard time believing you just got lost. So save your tired excuses."

"What makes you think I have an excuse? I may have a legitimate reason for being here. Shouldn’t you ask questions first?" Kakashi lilted, a sly smirk hidden beneath his troublesome mask. "Seems they do things a little differently here in Mist.”

Just as Ao pulled his arm back to land another hit, the door opened abruptly and a sharp voice halted his efforts.

"Leave him to me, boys. You’re dismissed."

"Aw, but we were having so much fun together" Kakashi feigned, his glare never leaving Ao’s. He loved the fact that he could see the old man’s nerves unraveling his usually stoic features at the realization that his playtime was over.

As the two giant shinobi made their exit, Ao walked around Kakashi, lowering his head to his ear, making his final threat.

"If you hurt her, Kami-sama as my witness... I shall make you pay."

"Roger that" Kakashi nodded in response to the man’s brash promise, keeping further comments to himself as he heard the him clench his teeth and turn on his heel towards the door.

With the click of the lock, Kakashi’s smile seemed to reappear as Mei sauntered over behind her detainee, slim arms smoothing over his bound shoulders and down the taught expanse of his chest.

"Seems like you’ve gotten yourself into some trouble, Ka-ka-shi" the Mizukage purred, her lips barely grazing the outer shell of his ear.

"Nothing I couldn’t handle, Mizukage-sama" the silver haired jonin disclosed in a gruff tone, his spine straightening as her breath tickled the side of his neck.

With her fingers clawing down his chest, a brief sigh left his lips, his curious eye watching her efforts as a hand ventured down across the front of his pants.

"Oh? It appears you like being tied up and toyed with. Does the great Copy Ninja Kakashi like to play rough?" she suggested, her hand following the curve of his growing erection.

"You have no idea."

"Don’t I?" Mei grinned as she walked around to face the tethered man, her elegant fingers raising his chin to her as they shared a prolonged look of hidden meaning.

Climbing atop Kakashi’s lap, straddling his seated form, green eyes combed over a masked face as she let a finger slip beneath the edge of the black cloth. Slowly sliding it down, the material pooled at the base of Kakashi's neck, revealing his full face for her to enjoy.

"Ao always did hate Leaf ninja… some things never change I guess" Mei pouted, leaning in to lick the remaining drop of blood off his slightly swollen lip.

"Good thing I got here when I did. Any more trouble, and I might not be able to enjoy this handsome face of yours" she teased, biting her bottom lip. “That mouth of yours does seem to get you in an awful lot of trouble.”

"It may get me into trouble, but it is more than capable of getting me out of any trouble I might find myself in” he confessed with a smirk.

The silence built between them, the tension palpable as they sat facing each other, a curious gleam in their eyes as they simultaneously broke down the wall between them. Without tender caresses or whispered sweet nothings, the two were upon each other, their faces colliding together, kisses filled with urgency as they both consumed each other arduously. She, a powerful Kage, and he, an infamous and highly decorated shinobi from another village. It was a thrill they both enjoyed.

In the the throws of their heated exchange, they silently agreed to use each other. They both knew all too well of the risks and irritating pretenses of the dating game, and chose to steer clear of that train wreck waiting to happen. Those were roads too often traveled for their liking, a mutual point they had both made very clear in nights prior.

As the Copy Nin's hands gripped her waist, his fingers digging into her sides pulling her close, he simply chuckled at her surprised gasp.

"Like I said, nothing I couldn’t handle" he chirped, holding up his freed hands that he had released some time ago, making quick work of wriggling his feet free as well.

With an impressed nod, Mei crashed her lips upon his at once, humming delightedly as she felt his tongue slip between her lips, tapping at her own. As the searching muscles danced around, she put up an honorable fight for dominance before submitting to Kakashi’s fixed determination.

With a victorious growl, Kakashi ran his hands under her dress and up the finely toned thighs of the powerful woman atop him, his fingers meeting no resistance as they reached her hips.

"Naughty naughty, Mizukage” he teased, “No panties under this beautiful gown of yours?"

"What for? They only get in the way” she gasped between kisses, “You said so yourself."

"How very true. But let’s not forget why I came tonight, Mei-sama" Kakashi added in the darkest of tones. "We have unfinished business."

"Oh, that? Can’t it just wait until later?”

"No. Now” Kakashi demanded, ignoring her wanton groan as his hands squeezed her firm backside, picking her up as he stood from the chair.

Walking over towards the desk in her office chambers, Kakashi caught her lips once again, not interested in any excuses. He had an objective, and he wasn’t leaving until he completed his mission. He was stubborn and set in his ways, but even more so, he needed this and would not be convinced otherwise. They had both agreed to it.

Setting the Mizukage down upon her own desk, he attacked her neck, kissing and sucking his way down towards her collar bone, ripping the slit open to expose the porcelain skin of her lower half. Loving her mewls and moans wafting over his ear, he felt his blood boil with lust. His hands squeezed over her voluptuous endowments, fingers gripping the laces that were sewn tightly, but barely keeping her inside the dress, and ripping them open. This woman must be his. There was no question about it as he forced her legs open with his tight grip, kissing his way down between her now exposed breasts.

"So much for this dress... it was my favorite, too” she pouted.

“I'd get you another one, but I prefer you naked.”

“Really, Hatake, you ruin everything" she teased between sighs and hums of approval.

"Sign the papers" he countered, taking a pert nipple between his lips, staring into her eyes, awaiting her answer.

"I told you… that can wai-ahh!"

Grabbing her by the waist and flipping the frustrating woman over, Kakashi pressed his pelvis flush against her, holding her down against the desk. Withdrawing the folded papers from his inner vest pocket, the unyielding man leaned down over her back, slamming the document down onto the desk in front of her.

"Sign it, please” he begged, his voice straining behind his teeth.

"Why should I?"

"Because I know you want to... I won’t ask nicely again.”

"Is that a threat, Hatake-san?" her shaky voice questioned, hips impatiently pushing back against Kakashi’s prodding member.

"It’s a promise."

Leaning up, Kakashi let his hands push the dress up, exposing her bare ass as he let his hand come down harshly across one cheek with a loud slap.

"Sign it."

"You are a pushy one, aren’t you?"

With another slap across her other cheek, Kakashi dug his fingers into her flesh, urging her on.

"Ahhh!" her voice cried out at the stinging sensation filling her hind quarters.

"Sign it. Now.”

"But I seemed to have lost my pen…"

Another resounding smack filled the dimly lit room as he spanked her once again, his tingling hand removing a pen from his pocket, placing it on top of the papers in question.

"Sign it. Or I will tease you within an inch of your sanity. Do not test me."

Noting her stillness, Kakashi shook his head in disbelief. So this is how she wanted to play? Allowing a finger to slide down the cleft of her ass, he followed the curve down and around until he reached the sensitive bundle of nerves he was searching for. Lightly grazing the moistened bud between her legs, the weight of his torso pinned her flat against the desk, keeping her jolting body still amid his torture.

"Tsk, tsk. Not so fast. Sign the papers, and this can continue" he cooed, giving his fingers a flick across the swollen bud.

"Mmm...” she whimpered, unable to speak at the moment.

Judging by the lack of vocalization, Kakashi knew he was getting somewhere. Continuing his efforts, he let his finger slip between the slick folds at the apex of her thighs, his diligent digit sliding deep inside her warm cavern, urging her to follow his orders.

"Do it" he growled, his voice low and from the depths of his throat as he tried to coerce her through his ministrations.

Sighing as he removed his hand, he added another finger, before slowly reentering her again, pausing just as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"Sign. The. Fucking. Papers."

"No! Don’t stop..."

Withdrawing his slippery fingers, smirking at the juice that dripped from each fingertip, Kakashi placed them into her mouth, not interested in hearing anything she had to say until her signature graced those pages.

With his free hand, the Hatake freed his own erection from its confines, nudging the head against her flooded entrance, making sure to never let it slip inside as he prodded against her, awaiting the delicious pressure that would engulf him.

"Sign it, and I’ll give you what you really want.”

"Ugh, you dare tease me?!" she yelled around his fingers.

"Who’s teasing? I told you what you have to do. Now do it."

"Fine!" she cried, licking his fingers clean like some sort of starving animal.

Grabbing the pen and signing her name across the blank, she huffed impatiently, "There! You happy now?!"

Smiling victoriously as the happiest man on earth, Kakashi kissed her neck, nudging her once again.

"Why yes I am, Hatake Mei-sama.”

With one swift thrust of his hips, Kakashi entered her fully, buried to the hilt in this woman… his woman. She was officially his now. They now belonged to each other, and only each other. Initially, she had joked about taking his name. But now that she was screaming it, he thought it very befitting.

Their lewd noises filled the Kage’s private office quarters as Mei gripped onto the desk below her. With every roll of his hips, she felt her body shiver at the sensation of being filled so fully by this man. He was driving her crazy, and she was enjoying every minute of it.

Her panting breath and guttural moans divulged her true state of mind as she felt completely enraptured by the relentless man behind her. She loved that this was what she could now enjoy whenever she desired. Kakashi was not only a generous person, but also a generous lover. He made sure all her needs were met, and knew exactly what buttons she liked pushed.

Every time their bodies connected, the spark between them grew. They soon found themselves thirsting for the other in their absence. Seeing how they currently lived in separate villages in separate countries, their thirst developed into a violent need. It overpowered their senses and could cloud their judgment. As a leader and an elite shinobi, this was not a great side effect of their relationship, but soon that would all change.

Just as he claimed her on paper, he claimed her now. With a few last thrusts, Kakashi emptied his seed deep inside the woman he loved, collapsing on top of her. They felt their bodies melt after their simultaneous release, the exhaustion of orgasm had torn through them, leaving them both drained and sated.

As his vision returned to normal, Kakashi planted kisses along Mei's shoulder, his hands reaching under her, taking a breast in each palm. Kissing his way up to her neck, he smiled against the soft alabaster skin, loving the way her body was still twitching from their exhaustive efforts.

With her breath returning to her, Mei chuckled darkly as she licked the corners of her dry lips. “Well, that was certainly worth the wait.”

“Yes, it sure was” he agreed, wincing as he slipped out of her slowly.

“Aw, is play time over already?” she pouted, shivering at the loss of his body heat, the cool air hitting her exposed backside.

“For now, but I'm not done with you yet” he promised with a devious grin, “Tonight, My Dear, we celebrate.”

After zipping his pants, Kakashi extended a gentlemanly hand, helping Mei stand up from the desk. He chuckled as the rags of her dress fell down around her waist, leaving her chest exposed. The slit was ripped as well, leaving nothing to the imagination, but she was quite the sultry vision in her tattered cerulean silk.

Pursing her lips, the Kage planted both hands on her waist, looking down at her sad excuse of a gown, “What a mess you've made of me.”

Swiping the auburn bangs out of her face, Kakashi leaned forward, kissing her in apology, “You look beautiful.”

“I better, you're stuck with me now.”

“Gladly” he added, lifting her chin and claiming another kiss.

“I hate that you have to go now. When will I see you again, Dear?”

“Anytime you want” he quipped candidly.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Definitely.”

“How so?”

“I've got a little surprise for you.”

Collecting the signed papers from the desk, Kakashi put them in his pocket for safe keeping. Enjoying the confused look on his partner's face, he then retrieved the scroll from his pouch, laying it out across the desk for her to see. Upon the scroll was an intricately woven spiral seal, consisting of braided strands of characters and symbols, with a tied knot of sorts in the center.

“What am I looking at here, Kakashi?”

“It's a special contract I made for us.”

“Contract? But this looks more like a seal.”

“It's a summons. We'll soon be able to summon each other whenever we want. No more waiting. As my wife, whenever you need me, I'll be there.”

“How?” she questioned through a small grin forming on her lips.

“First, like any summons contract, we'll need to supply a blood sample and fingerprints to the center. Be sure to use your left hand for the prints, that will be part of the second step.”

Both bit their thumb, as they dripped blood over the knot in the center of the seal. Just beneath, they stamped their left hand prints, effectively signing the contract and sealing their bond for life.

“Now what?”

“Now, for step two” Kakashi smirked.

Centering himself in front of the scroll, Kakashi went through the tedious chain of never ending hand seals the contract required. With all the precision of a proficient fuinjutsu user, Kakashi made such a feat look relatively simple. After he made the last seal, he grabbed Mei's left hand, extending both of their hands over the contract.

“This may sting a little” he warned, “But it'll be worth it.”

Right before their eyes, small bands of the black characters appeared upon their left ring fingers. Slowly, but surely, the braided pattern of symbols was burned into their flesh. The sizzle of their skin was minimal, and even though it was more than a little sting, it wasn't any more than either of these seasoned shinobi could handle. After the burning stopped, the seals around their fingers glowed red, before fading to black.

It was done.

“Now,” Kakashi began, kissing the seal on her finger, “We can see each other whenever we please.”

“So, no more waiting?”

“Nope... and no more getting picked on by your body guards, either.”

“Now that, I can not help. You really do rub Ao the wrong way, Kakashi-kun” Mei laughed, kissing him generously.

“I guess the man was just doing his job and didn't know any better. I can appreciate that. Are you ever going to tell them who I am to you now, Dear?”

“Well,” she sighed sarcastically, “I guess you leave me no choice.”

They held each other closely, admiring the new tattoos on their finger. It symbolized their union, and neither of them cared if anyone knew about it now. As shinobi, they knew all too well the target that would be placed on the back of the one you loved most, but they were both more than capable of handling their own. No one dare stood a chance if they were to come between them and their bond now. It was written in blood, and could not be broken.

Their celebratory evening had indeed been fun and full of surprises, but as dawn broke, it was time to say goodbye. Mei tried to hold up the pieces of her torn dress as they walked shoulder to shoulder down the hall of her living quarters towards the open window at the end. Kakashi jumped up on the window sill, turning around to claim one last kiss before he began his journey home.

They were both exhausted, haggard in appearance, and in desperate need of sleep... but it was worth it. Blowing him a kiss, Mei watched in awe as Kakashi swiftly departed, missing the calls of her guards as they ran down the hall to her side, her appearance having caused them to worry.

“M-Mizukage-sama... are you o-okay?” Chojuro stammered, wielding his sword, ready to strike.

“Mei-sama, what did that bastard do to you? I'll kill him!” Ao blurted in a blind rage.

“No need, boys” Mei grinned, “That bastard is my husband.”

Laughing aloud, Mei slipped behind her bedroom doors, leaving her guards frozen in shock out in the hallway. They would definitely need a few minutes to process her last words judging by their dropped jaws and twitching eyes. She had other plans in mind though. She slipped out of the remains of her dress, discarding it on the floor and laid across her bed.

Lifting her hand, she admired the new tattoo once more, loving the mark they had left upon each other. She was missing him already, and this would not do. She was a newlywed after all, and as such, should be celebrating.

Biting her thumb, smearing the bead of blood across the black band upon her finger, she uttered the magic words. In a poof of smoke, Kakashi appeared before her, grinning beneath that ever present mask of his.

“Honey, I'm home!”

#naruto fanfiction #fanfiction #naruto ff #kakamei #kakashi x mei #kakashi hatake #mei terumi #adult fanfiction #madam ichaicha

12 notes · View notes

solynaceawrites · 4 years

Text

Promise Me Forever [5]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Lirael Thorne (OC) Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, First Time, Friends to Lovers Chapters: 5/14 co-written by @lickitysplitfic Summary: An old, long-forgotten promise between gods comes back to haunt Dante when it deposits an unfamiliar woman on his door. Claiming to be the descendant of Ler, she says that they’re meant to fulfill the oath made by Sparda centuries ago, and all he can do is watch as she turns his life upside down. Yet when her parents come knocking, demanding the oath be fulfilled, he’s forced to choose: return to the bachelor ways he loved so much, or give in to the emotions brewing between him.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Lir sits at Dante's desk, gazing at him. He is stretched out on the couch, his feet crossed on the arm and his eyes closed, snoozing away. She is supposed to be organizing the bills and writing checks, but his soft snores caught her attention, and now she can't stop staring at him.

Watching Dante has been something she often catches herself doing. It's been over a week since she arrived at the Devil May Cry, and every day brings something new she never saw before: a new television show, a new joke of his, a new case that piques her interest. But none of it as interesting as the son of Sparda himself, who has turned out to be an intriguing mixture of strength and determination wrapped up in a layer of an simplicity she hadn't expected.

Even now, napping on the couch, he's a conundrum of contradictions. His outfit, an odd blend of red and black leather, was quite obviously chosen with care, yet his face holds a day's growth of stubble, and his sprawl is haphazard; he looks like he puts effort into his appearance, like he doesn't, like he's comfortable, like he's going to fall to floor at any second. It's a far cry from what she was raised to expect, to be certain. There is no cold, elegant warrior here. Just a man, or a little more than, content in his little corner.

Despite her doubts, the truth of him is far more comforting than the myth she was led to believe.

Lir ducks her head, feeling a bit silly now. Even a legendary knight and the son of humanity's hope is still a man, isn't he? It seems foolish now to know she never once considered he would be a normal guy, but it makes a lot more sense than a mysterious figure whose life was fighting and justice.

Of course, Dante is a fighter; that was made clear enough first hand. He's had two jobs since the cat incident, both dispatched with ease. As for justice . . . well, he has a good heart, good enough to take a stranger in, anyway.

In the end, Lir is glad that Dante isn't what she had expected. It's much more interesting this way certainly. She is even having fun, something that also had never occurred to her to even expect in their union. Fun and flirting and enjoying one another's company is something that might come later, after years of marriage; love at first sight and romance lived in novels and Hollywood movies, not reality. Yet being with Dante had Lir questioning everything.

"Yer starin' a hole in me," Dante mumbles from the couch. His voice is heavy and thick with sleep, and he rubs at his face before yawning so widely that his jaw pops. "Somethin' wrong?"

"No, I'm sorry. I was woolgathering, I think." Lir stands with a smile and heads into the kitchen, where she sets to making him a cup of coffee from the pot she'd only just brewed. He takes it from her with a grumbled thanks when she carries it to him, and the sight of him with mussed hair and drowsy eyes is so strangely adorable that it makes her heart pound. "It's strange for you to have a day off, isn't it?"

Dante swallows a large mouthful of coffee before he replies. "Mm, nah. Sometimes I get handyman jobs—that's how the shop is listed in the phonebook—but I rarely take 'em unless the pay is good. So it's a lot of this, unless Morrison or Lady drop by."

Lir nods, continuing to watch him. Her chest tightens a bit when her thoughts land on how handsome he is; if this marriage had worked out, that is one thing that would not have been an issue. Lir had tried not to have any expectations, particularly since the paintings of Sparda in the old books had him with long, curved horns and spikes on his hands. She moves to sit back down at the desk, her eyes drinking him in. Never had she pictured his son with soft silver hair, tall and broad and muscled, strong jaw and lips the perfect shape to kiss—

"Where'd you go?" Dante laughs, and Lir misses the desk chair and lands on her backside on the floor.

He's on his feet in an instant, coming over to help her to her feet. "Shit, you okay?"

"Yes." Embarrassment colors her cheeks scarlet. "I don't know what's wrong with me today."

"Might be something in the air," he says. His hand is warm and solid against her own, and she clasps it gently, marveling at how much larger than hers it is. "Can't seem to wake up, myself."

"Well, luckily, we ca—"

The door to the shop swings open, admitting Lady inside, and she eyes the two of them with what Lir assumes to be amusement. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all," Lir laughs as Dante pulls her to her feet. "Just clumsy."

"You're back sooner than I expected." Dante lets go of her hand and turns, folding his arms. "Don't you know how to call first?"

"No time. I told you, I was running an errand. A mutual friend needed a ride back to Red Grave." She gestures behind her and Lir looks up to see a gentleman walk in, his suit almost as sharp as the little gleam in his eye.

Before she can ask, Dante groans. "Unless you have some money I don't want to hear it."

"Nonsense," he says. "I got wind of your predicament and I just had to come see for myself." Lady smirks as he crosses the shop, and Lir sees Dante roll his eyes a moment before he takes her hand, holding it up to press his lips to the back of her fingers. "You must be Lir. Lady told me all about you."

"I'm afraid you've got me at a disadvantage, sir," Lir says, falling naturally into the role of demure hostess, "as you know my name, but I don't have the pleasure of knowing yours."

"The pleasure is all mine. It's been a long time since I've seen true beauty, and you, my dear, are a sight for sore eyes." The man smiles at her, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. "Name's Morrison. I act as Dante's broker, bringing him jobs that I think suit him." With a wink, he adds, "He starts giving you trouble, you let me know, and I'll set him straight."

Lir glances at Dante with a giggle, but he looks unamused. "Thank you," she says, smoothing out her smile as she delicately retrieves her hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"So what do you want?" Dante sighs.

"Call it curiosity," he says. "I was out of town and Lady offered to give me a lift home, seeing she would be in the area. Naturally I accepted, and when she told me about her latest job I had to come and see for myself."

Morrison turns back to Lir with a wink. "The daughter of Ler, this is an honor. I'm somewhat familiar with your family, and of course I've heard the story of how your people helped the legendary knight Sparda."

"You have?" both Lir and Dante ask at the same time.

"Sure." He reaches into his coat, drawing a cigar from a pocket along with a trimmer. "The gods are mostly forgotten now. Humanity moved on, and only a couple of the old ones managed to hold on. Ler is one of 'em. Back when Sparda was separating the worlds, he needed a priestess, and Ler sent one of his along . . ."

"I was always told it was a relic," Lir replies with a frown.

"That too. In fact . . ." Morrison tilts his head towards Dante. "That pendant you gave Trish came from Ler's temple."

Dante sucks in a sharp breath as Morrison casually moves to the sofa, sitting and crossing one leg over the other. Lady leans against the pool table and watches as he puts his hands on his hips. "How do you know?"

"She showed it to me. There's some patterns on the side that look just like their buildings." He nods at Lir, who jumps. "Don't know how Sparda got his hand on those amulets though. Care to enlighten us?"

Three sets of eyes fall on Lir, who blushes and shakes her head. "I don't know what he's talking about."

"Ah well. Mystery is long over anyway. Two thousand years has a way of muddying the truth." He chews on his cigar a moment thoughtfully. "Surprised to hear about this oath though. From what I understand Ler and Sparda didn't see eye to eye."

"No, they were great friends," Lir interrupts, stepping around the desk. "At least, they respected one another very much."

"Not what I heard," Morrison chuckles. "Sparda lost too much money playing dice to him for them to be that good of friends."

"Really?" Confusion swirls within her, along with a faint, barely noticeable tinge of discomfort. Was everything her family told her wrong? Could they really have forgotten so many truths?

It must show in her voice, or on her face, because Morrison exhales a slow cloud of smoke. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. It could be both, or neither. The only ones who would know for sure are Sparda and Ler, and neither of them are talking."

". . . Yes, I suppose."

"Anyway," Lady interjects, "the fact of the matter is that you're stuck with her, Dante. I can't move her now that she's here, or the cult might find out that the two of you aren't honoring the promise. So, Lir, you're gonna have to stay here until we figure out what to do."

She nods as she leans against the desk, listening to Lady tease Dante about being a terrible gambler ("like father like son," she laughs), but not processing anything. It's just like Dante himself: she had expected one thing, and found another. Ler himself might not be at all what they know, but the idea leaves her feeling shaky.

"Hey," Dante says, his hand heavy on her shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yes!" Lir says quickly. "Are you both staying for dinner? We'd love to have you."

Lady laughs and waves her hand. "I can't stay. I have work tonight." She nods towards Morrison. "You coming?"

"I think I'll take the lady up on her offer," Morrison smiles. He takes a drag from his cigar and nods at Lir. "I want to hear more about her people."

Lir ducks her head, wondering what would have happened if Dante were more like Morrison, deciding that she likes him just as he is. Then she flushes, a rather odd trend that's started whenever she's around or thinks about the devil hunter. "Dante, would you mind entertaining our guest while I get started on dinner? I'll be out with drinks in a moment."

His eyes are assessing on her face. "Don't worry about the drinks. I got 'em."

"Nonsense!" She pats his arm. "I can take care of it. Besides, you said that Morrison often brings you work, didn't you? I'll leave the two of you to discuss business."

Lady huffs a laugh, drawing an uneasy look from Lir. "Careful you don't spoil him too much," she chides. "Dante is insufferable enough as it is."

Lir feels a strange urge to defend him, but Dante interrupts. "Get going. And you didn't let Lir's family know what was up, did you?"

"Of course not!" Lady gives a wave as she saunters through the shop. "I told you, I'm a professional!"

Lir turns and heads towards the kitchen, but to her surprise, Dante is right behind her. "You okay?" he asks with a frown as she opens the refrigerator. "First you fall over, then you're offering dinner? You don't have to do this, it's just Morrison."

She considers the options within and his question with equal care. "I'm fine, I think. All of this has just been . . . a bit of a shock, if I'm allowed to be honest. It's like . . . like my family was so disconnected from the world that they forgot how things really were. Or are. I don't know."

"Lir . . ."

"I mean, it was one thing when it was just you they were wrong about, because they never met you. But to be wrong about Ler, or his relationship with Sparda, it . . . it means they're probably wrong about everything else, too. What if there never was a promise? Or they wrote it down wrong?" She pulls out a thing of ham, deciding that a roast will do nicely. "What if they sent me here and I've been in your way for nothing?"

"You're not in my—"

"The worst part is, they don't even know that they're wrong!" she continues, rifling through the pots and pans. "Our entire community is built on providing a bride for the damn son of Sparda, and if Sparda didn't even want that, if there was no agreement, then what have we even been doing for two thousand years? Sitting around on the sea looking like idiots! We'd be no worse than the Order who thought they could raise him from the dead. I mean, I didn't get to do anything because I had to prepare myself for this thing, and it's not even—"

"Hey." She blinks up in surprise when Dante grabs her arm. Then very suddenly he pulls her into a hug, suffocating her slightly as he crushes her to his chest. "Slow down," he chuckles, patting the back of her head.

Despite the lack of oxygen, it does feel good in his arms, and Lir allows herself a moment to enjoy the feeling of his broad chest and arms. But then she eases back, looking up as she wipes at her nose. "Sorry," she mumbles.

He gives her a crooked smile. "We can't know anything. So don't get all worked up. We just need to figure out today." Lir smiles at that sentiment and he nods. "Now, I'll cook dinner. You go talk to Morrison since you actually want to know this stuff."

"But—"

"No buts." He swats her rear end, making her squeak, before pushing her out the kitchen door. "I got this," he laughs, and Lir finds herself back in the office, Morrison grinning in her direction.

Belatedly, she realizes that she has no idea if Dante even knows how to make anything more complicated than a sandwich, but one of them needs to sit with Morrison and Dante has made it clear that he wants her to do it. Lifting her chin slightly, Lir crosses to the couch across from Morrison and settles delicately on it, crossing her legs at the ankle and resting her hands in her lap. "How long have you known Dante?" she asks.

"'Bout ten years. I met him shortly after he opened shop and gave him a bit of a loan to help him along. He's still working on paying it back." Morrison chuckles. "That's long enough to notice how much he likes having you around."

"You must be very good friends."

"Something like that." Morrison looks around the shop. "Probably something more like what Ler and Sparda had. A relationship out of necessity."

Lir swallows nervously. "In our community, we believe they had a close relationship built on mutual trust and respect."

Morrison chuckles. "Oh, I'm sure the two old ones respected each other well enough. My curiosity isn't to be invasive, but to understand." He leans forward and studies her closely. "See, from what I've been told, Ler's magic was used to maintain the seal on the oceans, so the demons couldn't come slithering out of all those unexplored deep parts. Considering the planet is eighty percent water, that is a pretty big task." Then he nods at her knowingly. "Your oath here was a part of that. Payment for the spell."

Lir shifts nervously. That is similar enough to what she had learned, with a marked difference. "It isn't a payment," she murmurs. "It is a . . . an agreement between friends."

"Is it now?" He leans back as if thinking deeply, tapping one finger on his lips. "All that magic must have cost Ler a great deal. Maybe even took his immortality. And he just gave it away for nothing?"

"I . . ." Her gaze drops to her lap. "We are taught from birth of the legends of Sparda, and of Ler. Millennia ago, when Sparda sought to permanently divide the human world from the demon world, he came to Ler, as they were friends and he knew that Ler was wise in the ways of magics. Ler agreed to aid him and Sparda, as a show of faith, promised to marry his firstborn son to one of Ler's daughters."

"So," he says mildly, "two different stories, two different versions of how it all played out. In my experience, when something like that happens, the truth is somewhere in the middle."

"In the middle?" she murmurs.

Morrison nods. "In the end, though, it probably doesn't matter why. Whether Sparda asked him for a favor or Ler offered, hell, Sparda might have threatened him over it, stole the magic, who knows. Doesn't matter if they were friends or enemies or just drinking buddies."

He points at her as she considers this. "What does matter is this oath of yours. That's serious business. And if it is true, and the ocean seal is caught up in this power, then we need to know. It would be a devil of a time if you two didn't get married, and suddenly demons started walking out of the ocean."

Lir glances at the kitchen, where she can faintly hear Dante singing wildly off-key, and then she lowers her voice. "It's not that I don't want to marry him," she admits. "In the time that I've been here, he's proven to be a far better man than I ever dared to hope he would be. He treats me kindly, and I've learned so much since coming here, and he never asks me to do anything that I don't want to do."

"But?" Morrison prompts.

"But I . . . I don't think it's what he wants. That I'm what he wants. And it doesn't feel right to me, anymore, to try and force him into it because it's expected. There's also . . ." Her cheeks burn, but Lir forces her voice to remain steady. "Well, I think I could love him, and I didn't expect that, either."

"Is that so?"

Lir's eyes open wide as she realizes what she just said. "No! No, I mean . . ." She holds her palms up frantically, "I didn't mean that! I've only known him a week, we're friends. It's silly, I spoke out of turn."

Morrison chuckles, leaning over to pat her knee. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." He winks, but Lir is filled with shame, looking down at her hands twisting in her lap.

A moment goes by during which she takes a deep breath. She glances towards the kitchen, wondering what would happen if Dante had heard that—if her parents had heard her say something like that.

"In the meantime," Morrison sighs, chewing on his cigar, "there is this question of the oath. It would be a bad idea to just wait around and see if the seal breaks, although I don't see any alternative."

"What if we . . ." Her heart pounds in her chest. "If we did the ceremony, it would count, right? We wouldn't have to actually get married, or anything like that?"

Morrison chuckles. "Maybe. You would know more about this stuff than I do."

Lir frowns, her mind wheeling, when the fire alarm goes off. They both jump up at the high pitched beeping as Dante bursts through the kitchen door. "Everything's fine!" he hollers. He pulls one of his revolvers out and aims for the smoke detector, shooting it from the wall, and it lands on the floor, smashing into pieces.

She gapes at him in the sudden silence. "We're ordering pizza," Dante says.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Morrison leaves before the pizza arrives, citing heartburn, offering his apologies for not having more information to give. Lir and Dante eat in relative silence; she watches him scowl as he picks the olives from his silences, thinking of how wrong her family has been about everything so far. What other lies have they taught her, so caught up in tradition that they never thought to question any of them?

Setting her half-eaten slice on her plate, Lir works up the courage to ask, "I know that it's . . . a sore topic for you, but would you mind telling me what you remember of Sparda?"

"What for?" He doesn't look up, and that worries her.

"Because I . . . I want to know the truth.”

Dante snorts. "Who cares about the truth?"

"I do!" she insists. "When I came here I knew what I had to do: marry the son of Sparda, be a good and obedient wife, and give him children to continue the line."

He almost chokes. "What?"

"But now it's all—it's all shit!" She clenches her hands furiously, tearing her paper napkin. "Sparda didn't tell you anything. So either he forgot, or it wasn't important. But what if it's not even real? What if Ler didn't give him the power? What if everything I've ever known is a complete and total lie?"

She looks at him with eyes that are bright with frustration, and Dante takes a thoughtful bite. "That sucks."

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" she snaps.

He says nothing for quite a while, working steadily through his pizza, taking measured drinks from the beer at his elbow. Finally, when her irritation has begun to simmer into mortification for saying so much, and none of it pleasant, he leans back in his chair. "He was a jackass. Nice when he wanted to be, but I don't think he ever really knew what to do around children, even his own. So, my mother took care of us. He was usually off doin' something or other. Sometimes we wouldn't see him for weeks."

"I see . . ."

"Had a strange sense of humor, thought swords were good gifts for toddlers. That's the kind of guy he was, as far as I know." Dante looks at her steadily. "But he disappeared when I was six. Went off and got himself killed. A year later, the demons came, killed my mother, and Vergil disappeared. And every time he's come up since, it's been some mess of his that I've had to clean up."

Lir flushes, regretting having asked. She bows her head and whispers, "I'm sorry."

There is a moment, and then Dante says, "He made good brownies. Not sure how, but they were extra chocolate-y. He taught me and Vergil how to arm wrestle. Came in handy when I was living on the street, I could hustle some money for food." She peeks up at him, relieved to see him smiling. "He had a laugh that sounded like a goose dying. Mother would put the radio on and Vergil would dance and it would make him laugh."

"He sounds . . . human," she murmurs, more to herself than anything.

Dante shrugs. "He lived here for a long time before he and my mother met. Locals probably rubbed off on him. But all that Legendary Dark Knight stuff? That wasn't him, not as I knew him. He was old by the time I was born, even for a demon, and he lost a lot of his power when the gates were sealed."

Lir nods, and Dante leans in to lift another piece of pizza. "Not what you wanted to hear, huh?"

"Actually . . ." Lir picks an olive off of the pizza and pops it into her mouth before making a face. "Ugh, you're right, these are awful."

"Told ya."

She chuckles, and they exchange smiles. "I'm not disappointed," Lir murmurs. "It actually sounds nice. I think I like human Sparda better than the legendary stuff anyway."

"Oh?" He cocks a brow, but the expression has lost the taunting edge it held when she first arrived.

"Mm." Tucking her legs beneath her, she yawns. "Just like I like the real you more than the Legendary Devil Hunter."

Lir leans her elbow on the back of the couch, propping her cheek on her hand and smiling. "Real me, huh?" Dante chuckles.

He sits back as well, the two of them gazing at one another, and Lir is struck by how comfortable she is with him. There are no expectations, no rules, no one there to tell her what to do. Instead she sets her own schedule, does what she wants, and the only standards she has to meet is her own. And Dante . . . in just a short time he has made her feel at home. "Real you," she murmurs.

Dante chuckles, his voice deep, and it makes her breath catch in her throat. "How do you know the real me, hm?" he teases.

"I just do," she answers. "I know I haven't been here long, and maybe it's out of place for me to say, but I'm . . . I'm really glad that I met you, Dante."

His eyes on her keep her pinned, and before she realizes it, she leans towards him. Her gaze falls to his lips, and Lir wonders what it would be like to kiss him, wonders what would have happened if he accepted her offer right away and married her that night. Something tightens deep inside and a small part of her wishes he had, despite the freedom she has now.

"You're not so bad either," he says, leaning in too.

The air between them is charged, and she feels a shiver up the back of her neck. But Dante doesn't move any closer, just keeps gazing at her with those intense eyes, and as the moment stretches on, Lir starts to doubt. They get along, and he's said he likes having her there . . . so why didn't he take her offer? Why hasn't he tried since?

Maybe he wants something more, she thinks, but that is ridiculous. More, what more? Romance isn't really a thing, at least not that she's ever seen outside of books and movies. Sure, they have a connection, and he is sweet and handsome and she is dying to taste his lips. But that can't mean anything . . . and even if it does, it doesn't mean he feels the same.

Suddenly embarrassed, she eases back and looks away. "That's kind of you," Lir murmurs.

"Yeah."

He is still staring at her, but now his brow is creased, as if confused. All it does is make him look more handsome, and make her want to reach out and brush her fingertips on the crease and slide closer, so she stands, gathering up their plates. "I'll take care of this," she says, escaping to the kitchen, and once there she splashes water on her face, telling herself to get a grip.

#dmc #devil may cry #dante sparda #lirael thorne #lir #dante/lir #dante/oc #dante x oc #dmc oc #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #story #myfic #collab #promise me forever #pmf

12 notes · View notes