woke up feeling so homesick today. but instead of being homesick for one place i’m just homesick for my family

The Perfect Wingman.

Pairing: Single Dad!Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, tiny bit of Angst

Warnings: mentions of injuries, blood

Requested: Nope

Summary: Felix, Sebastian Stan's five year old son, is the perfect matchmaker (with the help of Uncle Anthony, of course!)

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Another matchmaker fic lmao there's just something about that trope where kids play matchmaker for adults that's just... 💞 anyway enjoy!

---

"Buddy! Hi!"

Y/N glanced at Chris Evans as her boss spoke to her, seeing him running towards somebody. After her boss left, she turned around and smiled when she saw him chatting with Felix, Sebastian Stan's five year old son. The kid was literally sunshine in a bottle, making everyone around him happy. Guess that's another thing he got from his father.

Aside from looks.

Then she looked around, but couldn't see Sebastian anywhere. "Boo!" Startled, Y/N screamed and held a hand over her chest as she whirled around to see Sebastian doubled over in laughter behind her, clutching his stomach. "Oh my God!" she groaned as several heads turned to her at her scream. "You should've seen your face," Sebastian wheezed.

Y/N pouted at him and swatted his chest. "I could've had a heart attack!" Y/N wasn't an actress, she was just an assistant on set. Her only work was to make sure that all the actors on set were hydrated, which in turn led to her becoming good friends with all of them. They were all very friendly people, the Marvel cast. "But you didn't. Felix!" Sebastian called out and his son looked up.

Running as fast as his little feet could carry him, Felix jumped into his father's open arms, giggling. Y/N watched them with a smile on her face; Sebastian was a great father. "Meet Y/N," Sebastian introduced her and she waved at the kid. "Hi Felix," she grinned but Felix was mesmerized. Wow, she's so beautiful.

He simply blinked at her a few times, his jaw dropped. Y/N raised a questioning but amused brow at him, her eyes flickering to Sebastian who was watching his son with an exasperated look on his face, all too aware of his shenanigans. She laughed at Sebastian's expression and Felix snapped out of his thoughts. He raised his arms and leaned forward; a silent request of please pick me up.

Y/N gathered him in her arms, his tiny arms going around her neck as she held him on her hip. "Hello!" He had surprisingly clear speech, he did not mispronounce his L's and R's much. "Hi! How are you today? Enjoying yourself?" Felix nodded excitedly. "Yes!" Sebastian simply watched them with a soft smile as the girl he fancied talked to his son.

Sebastian had had a crush on Y/N ever since they began filming, and at this point, 4 months later, the only person who was oblivious to his feelings was Y/N. Everyone knew, and everyone heartily teased him for it. He had always wanted to ask her out; seeing his son get along so well with her only fueled his feelings. "Are you… are you an actwess too, Y/N?"

"No, darling, I'm a helping hand. I help everyone stay hydrated."

"What does that mean?"

"I give everyone water when they ask for it," she explained and Felix nodded, eyes the same colour as Sebastian's blinking at her in wonder. "Water is impowtant," Felix stated matter-of-factly making Y/N giggle. Felix decided he wanted to hear that sound much more frequently. "Felix! Is that you?!" Y/N, Felix and Sebastian turned to see Anthony making his way towards them.

"Uncle Anthony!" Felix squealed and Y/N put him down on his feet, smiling at the way he ran to Anthony Mackie. "Your son is so cute," she commented, turning to Sebastian only to see him already staring at her, a soft smile on his face. "It seems as though he has taken a liking to you. I wouldn't blame him." Y/N rolled her eyes at his flirting but blushed.

He did flirt with her a lot, but come on, that was just a part of his personality. Surely he didn't have feelings for her, he couldn't. Oh but he did; very strong feelings, on top of that. "Cheesy," she jabbed back and Sebastian clutched his chest with a pretend hurt look on his face. "You wound me," he pouted and Y/N grinned at him.

What they didn't see was Felix and Anthony staring at them, eyebrows raised in an identical manner. "Uncle Anthony, can I ask you something?" Anthony smirked but nodded. "Does papa… does papa love Y/N?" Anthony laughed loudly, realising that the adorable kid was the perfect wingman for Y/N and Sebastian. So he said, "Yes, yes he does."

"She is really pwetty…" Felix confessed, his own cheeks turning pink. "Aw, look who's blushing," Anthony teased, pinching his little cheeks. Felix blushed more and slapped his hands away, pouting. "Do you want your papa to go on a date with Y/N?" Anthony asked the child. Felix thought for a moment before nodding.

"Yes. If he likes her, he should just tell her!" Oh, bless his innocent heart. If only it were that easy in real life. "He will ask her soon, we'll make sure of it. Here's what you can do to help…"

---

2 months had passed since Felix visited the sets and Sebastian was getting impatient. If you thought his flirting was too much then, you should see him now. He flirted with her every chance he got but Y/N used to brush him off each time; he possibly couldn't be genuinely interested in her. She didn't think herself to be worthy of his affections, so, as much as she liked his flirting, she never reciprocated.

As Y/N gathered a few bottles of water in her arms, she heard a screech behind her. "Y/N!" Smiling, she turned, dramatically faking an 'oof' as a tiny body collided with her legs. "Felix, honey, hi! Didn't expect you to visit the sets today," she grinned as Felix let go, smiling broadly up at her.

"His babysitter couldn't make it, had to bring him down."

Her smile turned nervous as she saw the father of the cute kid walking towards her, a suave smile plastered on his face. "That's okay, papa, I can just hang out with Y/N!" Felix assured him before frowning at the dozens of bottles in her arms. "Do you need help?" Ah, ever the gentleman. One more thing he gets from his dad.

"Thank you so much, sweetie," she cooed as she handed him two bottles. It wasn't much, but seriously, how much could a little child carry? That was enough for him. "Can you go give these to Scarlett and Chris?" she requested, pointing to the spot where Scarlett Johansson and Chris Hemsworth were standing. "Okay, Y/N!"

She grinned when he left. "Seriously, how did you manage to birth the most perfect kid in the world?" she commented, turning to Sebastian. "Look at me," he said unabashedly, wiggling his eyebrows. "Seb," she huffed and nudged him, raising her eyebrows in shock when he took the bottles from her arms. "I have some time before my next scene."

"That's my job—"

"Nope, can't have you carrying all these bottles, sweetheart. What if you drop them?" She pouted as she followed him through the busy set. "Do you think I'm clumsy?" He glanced at her, worried that he actually offended her, but smiled when he saw her playful look. "Nope, but I don't want you to trip over the fallen bottles and hurt yourself."

"Now that was a good line," she whistled and Sebastian laughed. As Sebastian and Y/N chatted more, they heard a loud wail coming from a few feet away. Freezing up, both of them turned to see Felix sitting on the floor, surrounded by Elizabeth Olsen and Chris Evans as he moaned in pain. Y/N's eyes went wide with fear when she saw the cut on his knee.

Talk about hurting oneself...

Forgetting the world around her, she quickly rushed to the child, Sebastian hot on her heels. "Bub, stop crying," Chris tried but Felix wouldn't listen. The moment he saw Y/N, though, his tears ceased. "Y/N," he whimpered and reached towards her, finally content when she took him in her arms. "Oh, honey bun, you'll be okay," she whispered, kissing his forehead.

"It hurts," Felix insisted. "I know, darling, let's patch you up." Without any word to anyone, Y/N led him away from the crowd, sitting him down on one of the chairs littered across the place. Sebastian, Chris and Elizabeth watched her; Chris and Lizzie were smirking but Sebastian was beyond shocked. The worry on her face the moment she found out he was hurt, the way she cradled him…

The way his son had stopped crying when he saw her, as if she were his mother. The way he reached out to her instead of him. "Just ask her out, pal, look at her. She's perfect for you. And for Felix," Chris told him, patting him on the back before leaving with Elizabeth.

Sebastian stayed where he was for a few more minutes, heart racing and mind in an overdrive, watching as Y/N took care of Felix. Be mine, please.

"All okay, bub?" Y/N crooned as she tied a bandage on his knee after cleaning the blood off. "Thank you, Y/N!" Felix threw his arms around her neck and buried his face in her neck, smiling widely. Y/N returned the hug ardently, rubbing his back. "Felix?" Felix looked over Y/N's shoulder to see his dad standing there, a small smile on his face. "Papa!"

He made no point in moving out of Y/N's arms and Sebastian took the hint, merely ruffling the boy's hair. "You doing okay? Y/N take care of the boo-boo?" Felix nodded eagerly. "It doesn't even hurt now," he said proudly and Sebastian smiled. "Did you say thank you?" "He did, Sebastian," Y/N assured him.

"I wish Y/N took care of my boo-boos all the time!" Felix pouted. Sebastian froze again, his eyes darting to Y/N when he saw her stiffen. "How is that possible, sugar?" Y/N joked nervously as she stood up, Felix still in her arms, holding him on her hip like before. "Papa can date you! And then you can get married and then you'll be my mama and then you'll take care of all my boo-boos!"

Sebastian and Y/N stared at each other as Felix innocently looked at Y/N with a huge smile on his face. "M-Married? Bubba, I don't think your papa likes me in that way…" Sebastian suddenly found his voice. How dare she? "Y/N, I do like you, why do you think I flirt with you all the time?" he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Y/N's eyes went wide. "Wait, I thought you were joking—"

"I wasn't. Will you go on a date with me?"

"Sebastian, I-I… I'll be honored."

"Oh please, iubi, the honor's all mine," he chuckled and, not caring about who was watching (including his own son), leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in a sweet kiss. Y/N's heart fluttered at the term of endearment as she kissed him back. Felix groaned loudly in Y/N's arms, covering his eyes. "Yucky!"

Sebastian and Y/N had to break the kiss because they laughed too hard. Felix slid down Y/N's arms and ran towards Anthony, who was watching them with a small smile, proud of his best friend for finally making a move on the woman he liked. Anthony smirked when the pipsqueak stopped next to him. "Good job, bud."

"Thank you, Uncle Anthony." And Felix gagged again as he and Anthony turned to Sebastian and Y/N, only to see them in another liplock.

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a like if you enjoyed, reblogs will be accepted and appreciated too <3

Happy Prompt (if you feel like it): WWX being the genius/ex first disciple of great scet that he is realizes they can't sustain the Burial Mounds. So he comes up with a Plan to make them all dissappear. Knowing how important lineage is so them, he asks them to give up the Wen name and take up Wei. (The wens are mostly common folk who just want to live so they agree). He the proceeds to hide them among other clans. People who have met and remember all the good young master Wie always did. He hides them among the Jiang and Nie. (I always head cannon that part of WWX'S flirty reputation comes from him helping women who are in bad situations/ NHS somehow finds out/knows and begins to help him. I figure theyhad to get several Lan women out. Mama Lans ghost helps?). JC knows but ignores it, they aren't WENS anymore, so his pride can leave it be. I'm not sure if A'yuan would still end up with Lan Zhan? But then WWX, WN, and WQ all fake thier deaths and go travel as rogue cultivators. But now WWX has all these living and dead people praying to/for him as the patron Saint of lost causes? And he accidentally becomes an immortal without realizing it? To the absolute fond disgust of WQ, of course. Anyway, I figure old Jin perv still pulls his bullshit at a discussion conference and between NHS, JYL, and LWJ? They somehow clear everyone's nsme. And then newly immortal WWX rocks up in there (to the horror of the Lan Elders who now have to face thier own bullshit/ hypocrisy) and lives happily ever after.

I think I read a prompt or a fic somewhere with the concept of the Wens hiding in plain sight.

________________________

The thought came to him out of nowhere. 

It had been a peaceful day with the Wens as he farmed, invented and tinkered with various incomplete contraptions when Wei Wuxian was struck with a thought: they could not continue like this.

Wei Wuxian wasn’t an idiot. He knew that they couldn’t sustain themselves in the Burial Mounds. Their crops hardly prospered, one by one the more elderly individuals of the Wens got sick and died, the resentful energy messed with everyone’s temperament, the cultivators never stopped trying to break his wards.....the list went on and on.

He had to come up with a plan. He thought they could live here for a time, but that was just wishful thinking. 

With this in mind, he takes the next few days to come up with a concrete plan.

...............................

The first task, and perhaps the most important one, is to ask the Wens to give up the Wen name. It would be easier from then on.

As he presented this suggestion, he was surprised by how readily they agreed. He knew how important lineage was to them, so the rapidness of them giving up their name was shocking. 

“Would you......take up my name?” Wei Wuxian asked quietly. 

The Wens were silent before cheering. Wei Wuxian didn’t know how to react to this. The Wens told him that they were more than happy to accept his name since they were his family. 

Wei Wuxian held back the tears and laughed happily instead as he went on to tell him the next plan of action: hiding them in plan sight.

Various people from various clans owed him favors and remembered the good in him, as they were more than happy to take on the refugees he hid away now that they were no longer Wens.

They had to do this quietly and slowly though. It would be suspicious if a large group of people suddenly left Yiling all at once. So Wei Wuxian took each of them to different places. Some of them went back to their original homes, some went to the Nie, some to the Yao, some to the Ouyang clan. 

He even sends some to the small village of women who he helped run away from their horrible home situations.

It was a little tricky with Nie, but Nie Huaisang pulls through and Nie Mingjue suspects nothing.

He sends some to the Jiang and Jiang Cheng grudgingly accepts them, knowing that they are no longer Wen. 

And for A’ Yuan.......He sends A’ Yuan to Lan Zhan, who is familiar with A’ Yuan. Wei Wuxian sends a letter to Lan Zhan asking him to meet and instead of appearing, A’ Yuan is there in his stead. The letter to Lan Zhan details what to do with A’ Yuan and to hide his identity.

Wei Wuxian trusts that Lan Zhan would take his suggestion and tell his brother and uncle that A’ Yuan was a child that Lan Zhan was asked to take care of by a dying mother.

Wei Wuxian watches from afar as Lan Zhan takes A’ Yuan away and takes the last step in ensuring that the cultivation world forgets him: He fakes his, Wen Qing’s and Wen Ning’s deaths. There’s enough corpses in the Burial Mounds and ones with their physique to replace the Wens and him. He gossips to the town that he’s going to destroy his weapon, the Seal, and subsequently fakes an explosion of resentment, quickly disappearing with the Wen siblings to a random direction. 

He always thought how nice it would be to be like his parents and be rogue cultivators. He guesses that he’ll find out now.

..................................

Years pass and Wei Wuxian makes decent salary by taking care of monsters in the area. Wen Qing is a doctor, of course, and Wen Ning becomes her assistant.  

They move to a little village near Dongying and settle down there. The people there a little more open to demonic cultivation and dark arts and don’t bat an eye at Wei Wuxian using such means. 

Wei Wuxian invents more contraptions, selling them under a false name in towns far away from Dongying.

One day, on a chance night hunt near Yunmeng, Wei Wuxian hears whispers and gossip about Nie Huaisang, Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli clearing his name and capturing the actual people responsible. 

He’s happy to hear this. Overjoyed. But that doesn’t mean he’ll gladly return to the cultivation world. He’s had enough of that life. 

He walks around town for a bit longer, catching bits of gossip here and there. As explores the town, wine jug in hand, he nearly chokes around a mouthful of wine as he sees a small shrine encasing a statue of his likeness. What.....the hell??

He quickly asks around and finds out that people are praying to him for protection. Wei Wuxian squirms a little at this, glad he’s wearing a weimao to cover his face. 

All of this...praying makes him uncomfortable. Not long ago, people were spitting on his name and now he’s suddenly become some sort of Patron for protection? The change is remarkable and cements Wei Wuxian’s decision to firmly stay out of the cultivation world. 

People’s opinions change like a tide and Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to stick around long enough for them to switch back. He sighs, disposing of his empty jug, and leaves the town.

.......

Surprisingly, that’s not the end of the changes. 

He got careless on a night hunt and ends up with the claw of a yaoguai piercing him all the way through his stomach. When the yaoguai pulled out its claw, though......Wei Wuxian healed quickly. Too quickly.

He recovers from the shock at this and finishes off the yao.

What just happened?

.

.

A quick trip to Wen Qing answered everything.

“Congratulations.” Wen Qing says dryly. “You’re an immortal.”

“........What.”

Wen Qing sighs, “From what you told me, you healed unnaturally quickly, right?”

Wei Wuxian nods. 

“There have only been records of immortals recovering that quickly. Even Wen Ruohan healed slower than you did.”

“But I don’t have a core???”

“You do. Sort of.” Wen Qing replies. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t you felt it.”

“.....” I mean, I did think it was odd that I didn’t freeze to death in the winter or die of hunger when money became tight over these years, but I thought those were side effects of demonic cultivation! Wei Wuxian quickly goes through the motions of feeling for his core, willing the surge of hope he felt down. 

And he......didn’t feel a core. He felt more of a large mass of energy congregated in his dantian.

Wei Wuxian is glad that he is sitting down right now because he feels very faint.  “But.....this......how?” 

“Hmm. Well, from what I’ve been hearing, you’ve become some sort of Patron Saint?” Wei Wuxian nods. “It’s rare, but cultivators can gain power from prayers. Take Wen Ruohan for example.”

“He became powerful through the same means?”

“Yes. Well, his people believed him to be all powerful, not so much as what people are praying to you. As the Sunshot alliance chipped down on his people, so too did they chip down on Wen Ruohan’s power.”

“So if people stop praying to me, I’ll stop being immortal.”

“Yes and no. Right now, there’s just a mass of energy concentrated there. It’s basically unrefined energy. All you have to do is refine that power into a core and cultivate normally. Otherwise, yes. You will lose this power as soon as people stop praying to you.”

“I see.......”

Wen Qing raises an eyebrow and brandishes her needles. “What are you doing just sitting here? Go and cultivate!”

“Aiya, Qing-jie! I’m in shock here, give me a moment to absorb this all!”

“I have patients to see! Get your ass to your room and cultivate!”

“Are you my mom or something?”

Wen Qing’s expression turns thunderous.

Wei Wuxian didn’t want to provoke her any further despite wanting to banter more and left to his room.

..................................

“You should visit your siblings.” Wen Qing says one day. “And Hanguang-Jun. I want to hear about how A’ Yuan is doing.”

“Where did this come from?”

“Wei Wuxian.” Wen Qing says patiently. “It’s been over a decade. Your name and our name has long since been cleared. People no longer hate you. And.....they miss you. Your siblings have commemorated the day you “died” and go into mourning for that day. Hanguang-Jun is a little subtler but he wears a mourning sash now.”

“They’ll be better off without me.”

“Says who?”

“The rest of the world.” Wei Wuxian says weakly.

“And why should you care for their opinion? You never seemed to mind it.”

“Ummm.....Lan Zhan hates me? Jiang Cheng might resent me? And Shij---Jiang-guniang---the Young Madam Jin has a life already.”

“First, if Hanguang-Jun hates you, why would he frequently glare at people who badmouthed you?”

“Because he’s a good person. How do you know this anyway?”

“I have friends. Try again. Hanguang-Jun is a famously reticent person. Would he do this for every person?”

“.........I don’t know.”

“The answer is no.”

Wei Wuxian pouts.

Wen Qing then begins to tell him how Jiang Cheng frequently takes demonic cultivators back with him in hopes that one of them would be Wei Wuxian and even added Wei Wuxian back to the Jiang sect register. Jiang Yanli smiles while ruthlessly talking people into apologizing every time she hears something bad said about Wei Wuxian.

She even lectures him on his feelings towards Lan Wangji, that he would entrust A’ Yuan to him.

Wen Qing closes off her speech with threats of her needles if Wei Wuxian doesn’t get his ass over there.

“There’s a Discussion Conference at Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian, wait till they’re done and go meet them.”

Wei Wuxian, sufficiently threatened, hightails it back to what was his home.

.......

Wei Wuxian also decidedly forgets that he was supposed to wait for the Conference to end. Well, he had assumed that they would be done considering the empty state of the area in front of the conference room and stupidly bursts through the door to a room full of people.

Wei Wuxian blinks, “Uhh......”

“Wei Wuxian?!”

“Wei Ying?!”

“A’ Xian?!”

Wei Wuxian tittered from side to side, “Hello, all! I bet you thought I was dead! Well, you guessed wrong! Hahaha......”

..............................

Lan Wangji did not know what this time’s discussion conference would be like. He expected Jin Guangshan to try and subtly slander Wei Ying. He expected Jiang Yanli, Jiang Wanyin and himself to stand up for Wei Ying, as he was unable to do before Wei Ying died.

But he certainly didn’t expect Wei Ying, who he thought was dead, burst into the room.

Everyone was silent as soon as they heard Wei Ying speak, but soon burst into a cacophony of noise.

Continuing the Discussion Conference was futile after that and it was quickly closed. Lan Wangji watched Wei Ying be surrounded by many people, some crying, some happily angry, some exasperated and he couldn’t help his reaction after seeing him once again.

He rushes forward and hugs him.

“Wha--Lan Zhan?”

“You’re alive.” Lan Wangji breathes, voice full of wonder. “You’re alive.”

Wei Ying’s arms come up around him and Lan Wangji feels the strong heart beat through their robes. His elders yell at him for his shamelessness and he comes back to himself, embarrassed at his lack of control.

“Aww, Lan Zhan! I’m so glad you missed me!”

“Mn. Missed Wei Ying a lot.”

A slight blush rose to Wei Ying’s cheeks and he laughed, a little shy. Lan Wangji couldn’t help his response to hearing his laugh again after so, so long. He kissed him.

The crowd gasped around them and Lan Wangji pulled back quickly, wanting the ground to swallow him up. But then......Wei Ying kissed him back.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan. How bold of you! To steal a kiss from me in public!” He giggles, not seeming mad at all and even pressing forward, tangling his fingers in his forehead ribbon.

Lan Wangji’s breath stutters at the gesture.

“You’d better take responsibility!”

Is Wei Ying asking what I think he’s asking? “Responsibility?”

“Yes! You took a kiss from me in public! It looks like I can’t marry anymore.”

“Will marry Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji replies, voice hoarse, ignoring the cries of outrage from his elders, the angry shouts from Jiang Wanyin, and the smirks from Jiang Yanli and his brother. “Will take responsibility.”

“I hope that isn’t the only reason.”

This is his chance to come clean. Lan Wangji already told himself that he wouldn’t hold himself back if he met Wei Ying again. “Like Wei Ying. Love Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying laughs brightly. “I like Lan Zhan too. Now, you’ll finally admit we’re close?”

Lan Wangji ignores everyone, eyes only on Wei Ying as they should have always been, “Mn. Let’s get married.”

___________________________

I feel like Lan Wangji may be a bit OOC......hmm. Well, whatever. I finally got this done and with that, I think I’ve cleared all the prompts I haven’t answered, so asks will open up again!

Hope you all enjoyed this!

Resident Evil 8 AU Pt 2: Parenthood Boogaloo??

Former Post Here

To summarize: Ethan takes deal. Miranda goes boom. Village goes boom. Chris is like this is serious. Heisenberg is like no baby for me pls. Ethan is like yeah no absolutely no baby for him pls. Chris is like sorry but baby for him. Didn’t even get a baby shower. Fucking brutal. Hate this place.

RIP pls forgive this obnoxiously long post that will never become a cohesive fic.

Why am I like this. 

My life is a sea of regrets.

Seriously though forgive how all over the place this is - it is literally me vomiting thoughts for sport.

Immediately after leaving the village (what was left of it) Heisenberg headed west with Rose. 

As expected, it took a matter of hours for the Duke to show up bearing gifts. Not much, mind you, but enough. 

He even allowed Heisenberg to start running a tab, despite quibbling that it was a bad business practice. 

For the first year, they were completely off the grid with zero contact with the rest of the world, usually living in ramshackle hunting cabins in the forests of whatever country they happened to be in at the time. Hungary, Austria, Slovenia, and eventually Switzerland. 

Not requiring food or water himself, caring for Rose was relatively easy with some help from Duke. Heisenberg became an old hand at building fires out of nothing.

The whole baby thing did not come naturally to him. In fact, it took over six months for Heisenberg to have any kind of clue as to why the potato might be screaming this time. 

He came very close to just killing it and fending for himself, but after seeing what Rose did to Miranda... it was enough to make anyone hesitant. 

Around eight months in, Duke showed up with a new present: A cell phone. And a secure number. And a delicate observation that Ethan Winters might actually kill Heisenberg if he didn’t call soon. 

Calls with Ethan were an infrequent thing. Ethan passed along pertinent information, but being under heavy monitoring, he didn’t have a lot of private time. 

Heisenberg had less of an excuse, and just genuinely didn’t like Ethan. 

Despite being told about it specifically, Heisenberg missed Rose’s first and second birthdays. She didn’t seem to mind. Ethan did.

Around then, it became obvious that living in the woods, completely cut off from humanity, wasn’t going to work out well for a growing child. 

Did you know electromagnetic energy can really fuck up a bank machine? 

Heisenberg (well, Duke) found a reasonable, small cottage on the outskirts of a village in the south of France. He put together a decent little business selling metalwork crafts that were simple (for him) to build, but could sell for high profit. Horses were a bit of a specialty.

Became the local backwoods crazy rural uncle who can fix anything using anything. 

Ethan managed to pull enough strings to buy himself a four hour window while in France for unrelated business to visit Rose for the first time just before she turned three. 

They agreed to meet in a town about an hour south as Ethan had ‘security concerns’. 

ie. He and Chris both doubted Heisenberg’s ability to blend into a crowd. 

To prove a point because he’s a petty bitch, Heisenberg walked Rose past Ethan five times while Ethan was waiting around for them. Ethan only noticed them when Heisenberg said his name. 

Shaving, showering, a haircut, and new clothes can do a lot for a man. 

Rose did not recognize Ethan and was extremely reluctant to speak to him at all. Eventually, she was coaxed into introducing herself as “Rosalie-Elise”. For reasons beyond Heisenberg’s comprehension, this seemed to have a profound emotional effect on Ethan. 

Aside from occasional visits from Ethan (usually every year or two) it was mostly Heisenberg and Rose against the world. 

Duke did roll through, though less frequently than when they were actively fleeing the village. He was incredibly fond of Rose, after all.

Until Rose turned three, Heisenberg largely saw her as a nuisance - something he was obligated to keep alive for his own sake. 

When she was three, and shortly after they settled in the French House, Rose began picking up on Heisenberg’s mannerisms. Speaking like him, sitting like him, trying to mimic everything he did on a smaller scale...

Overnight she went from a nuisance to the apple of his goddamn eye. 

Heisenberg rarely called Rose by her name unless it was serious. More often than not, she’s ‘Kid’ or ‘Blondie’

By the time she started school, Rose could dismantle, repair, and reassemble most standard engines (with a bit of help). She was also shaping up to be a mean little welder.

She also picked up a bad habit of swearing (fortunately, only in English)

Rose was raised speaking French almost exclusively, and her English was heavily accented. Heisenberg learned it with great difficulty, but became fluent by speaking only French for years.

Despite being happier by himself, cut off from other people, Heisenberg deliberately put in the effort to appear as ‘normal’ as possible. 

He never claimed to be Rose’s father - to her or to anyone else. Instead, he called himself her crazy uncle and left the gossip-mongers to come up with a story about her parents. 

Ethan was mockingly referred to as ‘Brother’ every time he called or visited, though. 

When Rose was six, Heisenberg gave her a watered-down version of what happened in the village. 

Watered down for him, at least. 

Rose had nightmares for six months. 

In the midst of that fun time, Ethan gave them a warning that the BSAA was starting to suspect something, so they up and disappeared in one night. 

This pattern continued for years, destroying any chance of Rose having a ‘normal’ childhood. 

Despite that, she developed a startlingly good mindset about things. Influenced by Heisenberg, Rose grew up with a tendency towards independence and isolation, with a hell of a lot of self-confidence and pride to boot. She never particularly enjoyed being around other children, even when she had the opportunity. She preferred staying close to Heisenberg whether it was necessary or not. 

Being an obnoxiously touch-motivated brat, Rose spent most of her childhood hanging off his neck, or flopped over his shoulders, or literally hugging him while he was juggling hot metal. Heisenberg gave up caring when she was about four and by the time she was five he didn’t really notice it at all. He often sprawled on the couch just so the kid could nap on him and catch up on sleep. 

After learning the truth about the village, Rose never did sleep particularly well at night - especially not alone in her room. Most nights, Heisenberg would sit next to her bed until she fell asleep. Sometimes even all night. 

Again, likely influenced by Heisenberg, Rose grew to dislike Ethan as time wore on. Despite her solid relationship with Heisenberg, most of their arguments were about Rose seeing Ethan. 

Heisenberg understood that their safety relied on Ethan being on good terms with both of them. Rose “didn’t give a fuck”

They reached a compromise eventually that Ethan was only ever promised one hour with Rose. If she wanted to leave after that, it was her choice. Similarly, Heisenberg let her set the boundaries about hugs and calling Ethan her father. 

Needless to say, Ethan stopped getting hugs by the time Rose was ten, and he was never called her dad. 

On the other side of things, Rose adored the Duke just as much as he adored her. Whenever Duke was in their neck of the woods, he made a special point to track them down in order to give Rose extravagant gifts. 

Puberty was a hell of a time.

A hell of a time

Rose manifested a massive amount of power in the span of six months when she was thirteen. Around the same time she discovered her love of girls, teenage rebellion, and sticking it to the man.

During one rip-roaring fight when she was fourteen, Rose sent Heisenberg through not one, nor two, nor even three walls. She sent him through five.

Somehow, that incident was enough to curb the rising tide of teenage hormones and got them both back on track.

Heisenberg always struggled with knowing how much or how little to tell Rose about their predicament. On one hand, Ethan hated the idea and thought it would destroy her entire childhood. On the other hand, Heisenberg disliked the idea of lying to the kid. 

Eventually, circumstances were such that there was no choice but to tell Rose everything in order to stay safe. By the time she was twelve, she had a pretty good idea about everything that had happened in the past. 

Mostly because Ethan assumed he wouldn’t do it, Heisenberg also told her all about himself.

Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly, after so many years) it didn’t change much. She tried to use it as ammunition during a few teenage tantrums, but when she realized it didn’t phase him, it was never really brought up again. 

Professor Hara Fyrstan, in fairy robes; remastered concept.

Tale 31: If We Lost The Sea Wives (chapter 1 - Northland Family 1/5 ) part 7. Stories of Magic Forests

no warings

              Hara Fyrstan tends the Fey Conservatory, with great care; He was a prodigy, filling the role his grandfather once did. In fact, they weren’t too different from each other, in looks, roles and personality. Both red haired, grey eyed, fey loving, Northland bred passionate professors. Both with big hearts, and equal compassion for all living things; Including fey. This due to both of them being born, and raised, in the farthest North West tip of Elden Kingdom: The magic Isle of Isfisceard. This mystical ancient place, had the most magical sea in the world. Every inch of the village and islands, was coated in fey. It made the people invested in their land, and its connection to fey of the sea. Naturally, this included Hara and his grandfather, Saturn.

The fey conservatory of Pepperidge academy, which was used for rehabilitation and education, was Grandfather Firepot’s greatest accomplishment. It is a school treasure. All teachers, students, and fey; enjoyed the peaceful atrium. It is a glass walled, three stories tall, magic garden withing the school. Hara dreamed of this job, ever since his grandfather told him stories about it. It inspired Hara to work hard in his Northland schooling, to immigrate to to The Grand West, just for the position. When Hara got there, he made the most of his success. Pepperidge Academy’s infrastructure, community, and fey, received only the best love and care from their new head seer. Hara had gone so far, as to make all of Pepperidge a protected magic forest, like his ow. He had quite the reputation after only a year’s employment. Hara was incredibly thankful for his grandfather, who helped inspire and teach him.

              The conservatory didn’t just hold and heal ferries and wonderous plants, but also aquatic fey; Fish children, Sea wives, or Daughter of The Sea, as Hara knew them. As a mage of the Northlands, Hara should have a complex and deep relationship with the daughters of the sea, but instead his qualms with the Fish Kingdom came from one of his students; Rah Wintersleep. Rah was also a mage, but instead of a seer of magic knowledge like Hara, he was charmer that sung spells. Rah was also a storm-breaker, that caused epic storms when magic flowed through him in times of joy. He was working on controlling it, with a storm staph. Rah was not only Hara’s responsibility as a student, but had fallen into a trap Hara’s kin often do; Loving a maiden from the waves. Sorry, mister of the waves. While preparing food for the fey, in the back room, Hara got to over hear Rah, and his true love, Fish Prince Broc. Hara spied on everyone who came into the conservatory, in order to protect the fey and students.

“The selkie your mother made, which you suggested to her; I think she’s actually infatuated with our witchery teacher.” Rah said. He was charming the small pearly cuttle Kraken in the fountain. Hara perked up at the word Selkie.

“Oh, yeah. He’s probably going to love her back. Selkies often suffer from Stockholm’s syndrome, so it’s nice to see a little sister find actual true love; Instead of being kidnapped.” Broc smiled. Hara was too busy in school for seal gawking, back home. Rah and Broc’s conversation was making him nostalgic. As if the distant tune of proverbial bagpipes, was calling him hither.

“Now that you’re my queen in waiting, and the wolf kingdom fell into disrepair, I worry for my mother.” Broc continued. “She always frequents the Day Veil of men, but now mages have made the Beast King’s more willing to see view humanity in person. I doubt people will take kindly to a ghostly giant mermaid, or bewitchingly radiant maiden. I don’t want to be Fish King so soon. I will worry for all my new daughters, while I mourn my Mother and little siblings.” Broc said. Rah hugged Broc, to comfort him.

“I’m sorry I’m too young to be queen of a fey kingdom yet. I worry I’d be a bad fish Dad; No one can top your father Lyra… Besides; your mother, father, and family are very well loved. It would be a tragedy to all who adore the water’s fair folk. I can’t imagine life without ocean fey. All beautifully crafted, and sweet of song.” Rah said. He was getting sad, which was unusual. The two of then gazed into the pool of miniature kraken, nuzzled together like gannets.

Hara slumped. Imagining the world with fewer fey, was a chilling thought to someone who spent their life learning about and helping them. The thought that the bays of Isfisceard, could no longer echo with the haunting melody of the fish children, seemed unnatural. The ocean would have no song, no feminine beauty, and no more wonder. Hara considered if he had taken it all for granted. Rah’s words made him think of home, and all it’s verdant cliffside isles. Home would be nothing without the Sirens on the oddly formed sea walls, mermaids in the rivers and glens, selkies on the beaches, or krakens listening in the deep. The smell of sea salt, vibrancy of the hills, wool of sheep and music of home. Hara wilted at the thought of all that vanishing. It made him feel like life was short, and that he wanted to see it all again. The fey of the fish kingdom, were the ones that inspired him to study and conserve fey. They taught him he was a mage, and how to interact with the world of magic. Hara wanted to experience that again. All of this in the span of the ten minutes it took to pour milk into little labeled saucers for the pixies.

After the school day was done, Hara went to his dorm, to see his dragon princess trying to cuddle Woodwick. Hara had become a queen in waiting himself, but to the Dragon Kingdom; Fleoganan was his true love. She was an optimistic idiot. Which is an underappreciated quality in people. Hara’s heart filling with love when embracing her, combined with a day’s brooding, reminded him that his family hadn’t met Fleog yet. They had already shared the undying true love’s spell, and Grandpa knew nothing of it. Then Hara saw Woodwick, innocently preparing for tomorrow’s lessons. Woodwick also remined Hara of home; He was technically Hara’s adoptive uncle. Woodwick was one of the last two fountain nymphs, which grandfather had found on a black market. These Naiads turned the flowing pools they bathed in, into water that could heal any wound. Yet, Woodwick’s dream was to be human; And due to his value, grandpa adopted Woodwick, and kept his identity secret. This gave Woodwick his dream, by fooling everyone. Nymphs can be very convincingly human. In fact, the unpublished research grandpa Firepot left to Hara, on Woodwick’s desire for humanness, helped Hara conserve local fey.  It gave common folk, including wizards, empathy towards fey, similar to mages.

When Woodwick and Hara first met, it was on a road trip to the family beach home. They spent time packed into a hot car, after being picked up at the Main Northland Station. Their little home was in the middle of nowhere, as Isfisceard was an isolated heritage village, by the Fish Gate into the Shadow Veil of fey. The small house was on a sandy beach, along the main road into the cove. South of the magic academy and village, west of the train station. Hara was not fooled by his grandfather’s insistence that Woodwick was just a tween he adopted. Hara, though a child, was an avid seer mage; He knew a fairy when he saw one. Hara never asked why Grandpa adopted a fey, and never mentioned that he knew. Woodwick had just become a normal member of his family.

It was official; Hara missed his. He hadn’t seen his grandfather, or parents, since he graduated and arrived in Pepperidge. Hara decided he wanted to visit home, the next chance he got.

“Woodwick, I want to go home for the semester break; Want to come? Fleog, you have to meet my family.” Hara chimed.

“I’m not particularly interested.” Woodwick said. “Then again, it would make your grandfather very happy.”

“I can’t believe your not homesick. I keep forgetting that under all that professor, is a fairy.” Hara sighed. Woodwick as a fey, lived a timeless state with no opinions of past or future. Missing something, would require opinions regarding the past.

“Well, now that I know seeking a familiar face is human thing, I may consider myself persuaded.” Woodwick responded. He wanted to be human, and was very assertive about it. There was a time he was also convinced he was a real boy, and not some changeling. He was focusing too much on the words, and not enough of the familial aspects. Hara apologized, and made the plans. He felt good about visiting his safe, unchanged, childhood home. That was on a specific abandoned beach, close to the fey of the sea.

NEXT--->

An Unexpected Turn of Events

Hiya, folks! So, as previously announced, the wlw writing project continues after a break with a miniseries set back in Vienna, one of the iconic capitals of opera at the time of Mozart. An emerging singer gets the chance to be an understudy in the latest Mozart’s discussed opera Le Nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro), that  premiered at the Burgtheater in Vienna on 1 May 1786, w and play the pants role of the page Cherubino. Preparing for the role doesn’t quite go as planned… .

Tagging: @scottishqueer​

Previous chapter: The Understudy

Hope you enjoy it: if you do, please consider spreading the word!

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A couple of days later I go back to Melchiorri for another session as planned. He is inflexible that I allow my voice to rest at least one day before practising again not to damage it. As I observe the streets of Vienna passing by from my carriage, I wonder if the little fugitive will visit us today too and a tiny smile crosses my lips. I should be bothered by such unprofessionalism but surprisingly I enjoyed the interruption. A private comedic enteract. It also reminded me the maestro is human: I stole a glance of the domestic, family life people like me is generally unfamiliar with. I don't plan to marry anytime soon honestly if I can avoid it, despite what my Aunt claims. I owe her and my uncle, the wealthy side of my family, everything. She brought me away from the small town by the Alps I lived with Mom, Dad and Hans, my little brother in a wooden cottage by a stream. We weren't indigents, we owned a small typography in town that mainly served the local journal of the valley and well, the church crafting the prayer books you would find on the bench every day at mass. We weren't rich with either: you don't exactly became high socialite with so little. Hans is now running the typography as my father's eyes are not the ones he used to have since he got sick. I don't envy my poor brother; I am glad I got my way out of that life. I am eternally grateful to Auntie Helga for insisting to drag me to Graz and deciding to turn me into a star of the opera after hearing me perform a solo in the church choir during one of her - not so frequent, actually - visits.

Auntie built her fortune over a good marriage with a promising young lawyer who couldn't resist her charm and eventually allowed her to live in sober luxury and even be invited to court. But that seemed to be her sole aspiration in life: she left the small town and never looked back. I am an opera singer, I want more. My career comes first and I have yet to meet a worthy match honestly. And no, I don't want to be a puppet, a doll to a man who will eventually ask me to leave the stage and my beloved arias to look after a child or be a proper wife, whatever it means. So, no, thanks, I chuckle in my head while taking the hand the driver offer me to get off the carriage. When I knock at the door, I am considering that maybe Herr Giorgio is not that bad, even if I didn't like the way he addressed the maid and the poor naughty boy. Nor the lusty looks he throws me. The maid welcomes me with a smile and a little reverence. Good girl, probably she expects me to chastise her too. As if I had any intention to do so! She takes my fur and quickly disappear into the wardrobe room before walking back towardsme. I thank her for her zeal but I know the way to the music room, the maestro is surely waiting for me, I say. I start walking but what she says next makes me freeze, confused. "Actually, Miss...the master is not here today. I'm very sorry. His wife is waiting for you in the tea room". What? That...that must be a joke. The maestro hired to prepare me last minute disappears before the official rehearsals. I turn and throw a bad look at the poor maid, who doesn't deserve it in the least. She's just a messenger, her eyes beg before lowering them to her feet. She's right, my anger is all for Mister Melchiorri. What do I do now? "Whatever, lead the way then" I exclaim, following her. "I can't wait to hear what the fair lady has to say about this". My voice is cold, sardonic; the girl doesn't say a single word while we walk in the opposite direction than my usual route in the house. She's certainly too afraid to dare say a thing. When we finally arrive to the right room, she knocks politely at the door and steps in when a female voice comes from the inside. She bows her head and announces my presence before disappearing back down the corridor. She stops only to let the door open for me. I let out an annoyed sigh and enter. The room is significantly different from the maestro's studio. No instruments, only paintings at the walls and fresh flowers on the little tables around the room. The perfume is delicate and inebriating: are they orchids, I wonder? A neat wooden library holds the place of honour on the main wall, opposite the fireplace and framed by windows that fills the whole room by natural light, even if the sun doesn't shine today: it will probably rain soon. Letting my eyes wonder outside I spot green and a carousel: I didn't realise we were so close to a park! Unlike the music room, here even if the furniture, the velvet armchairs, the Persian rugs, every decor are certainly expensive, the atmosphere is surprisingly...cozy, an adjective I would have never thought of associated with Melchiorri's place. It's almost inviting, calming? "Miss Bauer, I am so incredibly sorry for the the latest developments and all the trouble they must bring on you...but please, take a seat! Franziska will be back soon with fresh tea". I turn to see a woman gesturing me to join her by the fireplace. Her German has a thick Italian accent which gives her "a bit of exotic" as they say at court. She doesn't wear a wig, her long raven hair are done up in an elaborate grateful chignon and two curly strands frame her visage. She reminds me one of those shepherdesses portrayed in bucolic frescos at the Emperor's Palace. Her dress is not in character though: a plain, cerulean dress which is not necessarily cheap but does nothing to enhance her figure. Poor taste probably: even money can do little about it sometimes. She must be in her early thirties or so I wager and thinner than most ladies I know in her standing...I wonder why Melchiorri chose her if he's so clearly fond of female curves. Maybe it's another arranged loveless marriage. I wouldn't be surprised. I oblige and thank her politely, forgetting my anger for a moment. It surprises me, it must be a reflex, a natural response the soothing silky voice of the lady. Like the feral beasts tamed by the gentle melody of Orpheus' song, I think trying to shake away such thought. I suddenly realise that I don't know her name. Melchiorri never talked about her. But I don't want to tell her: it's not a nice thing to say to a wife, right? As if reading my thoughts, she shakes her head slightly embarassed. "I forgot my manners, didn't I?" she sighs. "You must forgive me, Miss, I do not receive many visitors lately and I've never been introduced to famous opera singers...nor any of my husband's pupils. My name is Cecilia, Cecilia Melchiorri". I feel a pang of sadness for this lady excluded from the theatre world his husband works in. I don't get why she has to be cast out like that. I've met other illustrious wives at social gatherings around Vienna or at court. I offer her my hand, gesturing no apologies are needed, and repeat her name. "Cecilia...". Sadly, I completely butcher it: I studied Italian for the opera but my Austrian tongue is still incapable to recreate the sweet sounds that comes so natural to her. It must not be the first time because her lips curl in a quick understanding smile. "You can call me Lia, if it's easier for you. My family used to call me so". Lia...what a pretty little name. I smile, grateful. "I will then, if you don't mind...Lia. You can call me Constanze: it seems only fair". "As you wish, Miss Bauer!" she says before realising her mistake. We share an amused look, even if hers is a bit more bashful. In that moment, after another polite knock, Franziska returns with the tea and some butter biscuits. They're different from the ones Mister Melchiorri usually offers me in his studio. She's serving the tea when a familiar figure materialises on the threshold of the room at my peripheral. Lia is giving him the shoulders so she can't see him. I turn in his direction with a smirk. "I believe we've already met, right, Sir?" The two women turn at unison too and the kid childishly hides his face but doesn't move. After a moment he spies us through his fingers and retrieves his hands, smiling. Franziska puts the tray underneath her arm and tells Lia that she will bring him to his room, making the boy pout. He's quite the character. "Maybe he followed you because he just wants a biscuit" I say, my eyes wandering between them to check if I'm overstepping. "Maybe you're right...but only if he doesn't bother you" Melchiorri's wife concedes with a tired smile. I shake my head and take the decorated plate in my hands. "Would you like one?" I ask in Italian to her son, not sure if he speaks proper German. His face brightens up and he nods enthusiastically. We share a soft laugh, even the maid joins. He gets ready to speed across the room when he stops, considering. He searches his mother for approval. Lia nods, asking to behave like a good boy though. So he approaches slower than he wanted, with great effort to refrain himself, and grabs a biscuit from the plate. Before taking a generous bite, he mutters a quick thank you. "Mystery solved" I comment, placing the plate back on the table. "You must excuse him, Miss Ba- Constanze" Lia say, gently pulling him closer. "Nino is not a bad kid, just a bit of a rascal at times". "A rascal with a sweet tooth" Franziska adds and we share another laughter. "I'm so sorry he interrupted your private session the other day. Franziska had quite a fair share of work to do and I was indisposed in my room, I couldn't look after him as I usually do". I dismiss her apologies, taking a sip of tea. "But it was fun, wasn't it?" I wink at Nino who chuckles. "Yes and she sings very well, Ma" he says, turning to his mother. "Of course, I heard her too from my room" she smiles. "She's a promise of the opera, it's written on the newspapers". "Sing again?" the little boy begs, expectantly. His childish enthusiasm amuses me. "I cannot do those trills now, I need to warm up my voice first" I apologise, before winking. "Another time, I promise". Lia whispers something into his ear and he thanks me, concealing his disappointment. Crumbs are stuck on his lips and make the smile that follows a bit funnier than it was supposed to be. "Now, sweetheart, why don't you follow Franziska back to the kitchen?" She says, stroking his curls. "Take another biscuit and she will give you a glass of milk, just as you like it, huh?". She doesn't have to say it twice: while the maid gently places and arm around his shoulders, guiding him away, he takes not one but two biscuits in his hands. He throws me a conspiratorial look before chuckling. Then he turns towards Lia and stretches his neck to kiss her cheek. She caresses his face and tells him to be good with Franziska. When the two of them are out of the room, she meets my gaze again, shaking hear head. "Apologies, Miss...I sent Franziska to buy these for you this morning and he managed to put his eyes on them. He became obsessed". "Kids" I shrug, unbothered. I am pleasantly impressed that she had such a kind gesture towards me. I mean it could be a way to get on my good side because of the news she has to give me...but after all, this situation is not her fault. Her husband left her to deal with this and me all alone. She turns serious and sighs. "Anyway, have you heard of the flooding near Salzburg?". "What?". "Torrential rain lead to conspicuous floodings in the area surrounding Salzburg. I don't know if Giorgio mentioned it to you but he head there after your session for a family emergency....his brother lives there". "I'm afraid he didn't say a thing about his little journey" I say, trying my hardest not to look angered, even if I am: I would have rather be informed sooner of such details. By the look on her face I can tell she expected such an answer. "He surely thought he would be back in time today, he didn't mention staying for long. But during the night the weather deteriorated and the roads are pretty much impracticable, so to speak. We've just received a note saying he will be back as soon as travelling conditions are restored and the emergency solved. Probably a couple of days...maybe more? He must have sent you a similar one, you just missed it because you were on your way here already". "A couple of days? Maybe more?" I exclaim. That's not promising... "The rehearsals start in a week" I frown. "I still need to practise...". "You are free to do it here if you wish, Miss" she suggests, apologetic yet encouraging. "I am perfectly aware this is a hideous setback for you with such a tight schedule. You must believe me when I say I wish we never put you in this situation...if there's anything I can do, Miss, ask away. I'm not my husband but...". I consider her words for a moment. My mind runs wild to find a solution for this unexpected unfavourable circumstance. I could find another maestro maybe but how, within such a short notice and little time before official rehearsals begin? I could do it on my own but another sudden foolish idea crosses my mind. "Do you play the cello, Mrs. Lia?" I must have taken her by surprise by the look on her face. She tries to conceal it, refilling her cup. "Why, yes. My father was a musician, I took cello classes in my youth but I don't see how this-". "Excellent! Then you can take your husband's place until the he’s back" I exclaim, cutting her short. My words must come as a shock: she almost spits her tea. "Beg pardon, Miss?". "You will be my maestro, well understudy maestro for the time being" I smile, explaining. "You said yourself that you can play the cello, you can assist me as I practice". "But...but I don't have my husband expertise" she objects, at loss of words. "You heard me practicing with your husband, right? So you must know how it should sound. And that aside, you can even tell yourself if my performance is good or not: you have ears too, if I am not mistaken". She opens her mouth to say something, anything to make me change my mind and spare her such thing...but nothing comes. Her lips presses together for a moment before she places her cup back on the table. "Very well, then...if you think it would work" she smiles weakly. "Just be patient with me: I do not usually play opera arias".

Immortals Chapter 10

Hello lovely people! Here’s chapter 10 of immortals. I just want to thank you all for all the lovely comments and messages I’ve been sent, they always inspire me to write more and more! I meant to have this up yesterday, but my mental health took a downturn, so I’m sorry for the delay!

I’m a little nervous to post this chapter, I’ve had this written for AGES so I’ve tweaked it so many times and shuffled around in the order of things. It’s an important chapter for Aelin and Rowan, so I’ve tried my very hardest to do it justice. I hope you guys enjoy!

Here is the link to my masterlist, where you can also find the previous chapters to this fic

“Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between stars, I will love you”

-Rowan Whitethorn, Empire of Storms Rowan peered out of the small window in his room, taking in the hills and the stars. A little way out,  a lone silhouette stood, staring up at the stars. He squinted, the figure far enough that even his Fae eyesight had trouble making out who it was. Aelin. He sent a breeze to open his window, shifting and flying out into the darkness.

The crisp night air was cool against his feathers, and he took deep lungfuls of it, clearing his mind as he flew. Rowan reached for the soothing wash of his magic, steering the winds towards that lone figure. 

-x-

Rowan shifted into mid-step a little way away, making sure his footfalls alerted her to his presence. 

Rowan sat down next to Aelin, not touching, a healthy distance away, and looked up at the stars. She didn’t so much as acknowledge his presence, just remained gazing up at the stars. He couldn’t help but notice a slight sheen over her eyes, which were red rimmed, but he didn’t comment. 

After endless minutes, she broke the silence.

“There,” she pointed to a star, “The stag, the Lord of the North. So the people of Terrasen will always know how to find the way home. So they can look up at the sky, no matter where they are, and know that Terrasen is forever with them.”

“What’s Terrasen like?”

“Beautiful.” Aelin smiled softly. Open. Slightly vulnerable. “Snow always covers the Staghorns, but Oakwald forest is warm in the summer. Little folk are everywhere, but very few ever really see them. Orynth is filled with markets where you can buy almost anything. Merchants come from lands far and wide to sell their goods in Orynth.” The queen’s face had gone almost wistful, melancholy, her eyes unfocused as she talked about her homeland.

“You really love it.” 

Aelin looked at him with a bemused look on her face, “Of course. Terrasen is my home.” 

“I’d love to see it one day.”

“Then we’ll just have to make that happen.”

Rowan looked at the queen with wildfire in her soul, and all of a sudden, felt very old. He wasn’t particularly old by the standards of the Fae, but looking at this queen with her dreams for the world, he felt as old as Brannon, the first King of Terrasen. He’d once dreamed like that too, with Lyria. Until his dreams had gone and shattered right in front of his eyes. His fault. 

Yet something about Aelin made him think that maybe, just maybe, she’d seen the worst this world had to offer, and yet she still hadn’t broken. She still dreamed.

She smiled faintly at him, and there was such heaviness in her eyes. She had the weight of a kingdom on her shoulders, yet she didn’t buckle under the weight. She was so young, much too young to have the burden on her shoulders. Her parents had been assassinated when she was twenty, he remembered. Her uncle, King Orlon, had died the year after. Aelin had had her kingdom thrust upon her much earlier than she must of planned.

He didn’t know what made him start talking, but he did, perhaps wanting someone, anyone to understand,

“When I was young, I mated a female of our race. She was a flower girl in one of the markets. She was beautiful, and kind, and I knew instantly she was my mate. Within a year, we had courted and mated, and we had a small house up in the mountains. But I was young, and still yearned to prove myself. When war knocked on Doranelle’s doorstep, Maeve found me, and gave me a place to serve. As one of her commanders. It was my chance, as a young male, to prove myself. My mate begged me not to go, but I didn’t listen. I went, won the war, and came back, proud of my victory. The house was burned to the ground, her with it. And the scent around it, a child. I left her. I left my pregnant mate alone.”

Rowan finally looked up, meeting Aelin’s extraordinary eyes. Only understanding and sorrow lay there. No disgust, no pity. So he continued.

“So I shifted, and I hunted down the men who’d done that to her. A band of rogues. For fifty years, I went mad. When you lose a mate… you don’t come back from that sort of loss. I stayed in my hawk form, only eating when my body demanded it. Until Maeve tracked me down, said I was better off serving in her court. So I took the blood oath, and haven’t let myself look back since.”

Aelin was looking at him with a new sort of understanding, a small, sad smile on her lips.

“What was her name?”

Rowan tensed. He hadn’t said her name aloud in over one hundred and fifty years. But it would be a shame if the world forgot about her. If he never said it again. 

“Lyria,” he breathed.

Aelin nodded, looking back up at the stars. After a moment, she seemed to decide something, and turned slightly toward him.

“My parents were killed in an ambush on a diplomatic visit to Adarlan. I was supposed to go with them, but I stayed at the last moment because I’d pissed off some lord who I needed to sign an education policy. Nobody knew I was to stay behind.” 

A pause, as if gathering herself, “Afterwards, I was so stricken with grief, Orlon sent me to Adarlan on a ‘break from politics’. Dorian, the Crown Prince at the time, is one of my close friends, as well as his then Captain of the Guard, now Hand to the King, Chaol Westfall. I’m sure you know that Dorian became king just two months ago, compared to my year ago.” 

Rowan nodded, confirming he knew this.

“Well, whilst in Adarlan, I met a boy named Sam. I was a little reckless in my grief, and frequently visited some of the… less reputable taverns in Rifthold. Ever since I was eight, I’d been trained by some of the Fae in Terrasen, so I could handle myself. One day, some of the men had me backed into a corner. Sam saw what they were doing, and came to my aid immediately. Thing was, there were six of them, and only one of him. So, as good a fighter as he was, he was going to get pummelled to death. So, I shifted, and didn’t even start to throw a punch before they were scurrying off. That's how I met him. He introduced me to Lysandra, and we were fast friends. Sam helped me through my parents’ death’s, spending as much time as we could together. And somewhere along the way, we fell in love.  Didn’t mean to, but it happened, and it was the best weeks of my life. Even from a young age, I had always been seen as either a weapon, or some simpering princess to be manipulated. Sam saw me as a person. Not some terrible tool of destruction, nor some weakling royal. He just saw me as me. We had a few perfect weeks together, until, rumour somehow got around that Aelin Galathynius was in Rifthold. And a man named Arobynn Hamel found out. See, Sam was an assassin. Not by any fault of his own, he was born into it. He was good and kind and reminded me of all things good in the world. But Hamel decided that he wanted to meet me. So he got it in his head to keep Sam hostage, one of his spies had reported back to him about our relationship. But I had been called back to the Glass Castle, so I’d had to leave notice via one of the street urchins that I wasn’t going to be able to meet with Sam that day. Until the messenger came back to me, with Sam nowhere to be found. Sam was tortured for two days before I finally found him. But he was losing blood fast, and he died in my arms before I could get him to safety.”

“What happened to the men who did it?”

“I slit Arobynn’s throat and left him to choke to death in his own blood. The men who’d actually done it,” she paused, “I left in pieces in an alleyway, then burned their remains to ashes.”

“Good.”

Aelin looked up at him, blinking at his reply. 

“Many people would say I’m a monster for what I did to those men.”

“If you’re a monster, I’m a monster,” Rowan peeled his lip back to reveal his elongated canines.

Aelin laughed shakily, smiling at him slightly. It was amazing. She was amazing. That she could have been through so much and still laugh and smile and stand strong. She had triumphed. And in that moment, Rowan, for the first time in over two hundred years, didn’t feel alone. 

Tags: @bookworm232020 @brandyovereager @faerie-queen-fireheart​ @kendallambrosio​ @alyx801​ @sanakapoor​

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Switching Sides: Part 1 (HLITF)

Annnddd I have a new series even though I haven’t finished any of my others yet. Heh heh. Although, this is like a year and a half in the making 😅 Also, I wanna thank @theshove​ for being my proofreader and basically editor haha. Check out her kbtbb fic cos it’s super good!!

Premise: Growing up in a life of crime in a Japanese mafia, Atsuko Motomori has seen enough injustice to last her a lifetime. To try and give back to the universe her family has taken so much from, she dreams of being a detective from a young age. Her twin, sharing her disgust for her father and many uncles, just wants an ordinary life away from the crime, paing and suffering. Instead, she wants to be in the spotlight with the soft notes she makes with her cello. In their escape of 2015, on their coming of age birthday, they must split ways, never to be together ever again. If one was found, they didn't want the other dragged down with them. Atsuko, having changed her name and appearance as best she can without a scalpel, sets off to start her life of car chases and arrests. 

Four years in a seemingly dead-end police station in the middle of nowhere, being passed over time after time for promotion, Atsuko finally gets a shot at her dream, having been sent to an academy for the best candidates in the country by her boss who had always kept an eye out for her. After discovering her boss may have made her bite off more than she could chew, Atsuko must become the slave of a dominating instructor!? Who so just happens to be the captain of the most famous police unit in Japan? Not to mention a total knockout! Will Atsuko finally achieve her dream? Or will her new instructor put her through the wringer?

Warnings: None for this chapter, but fair warning this fic does get pretty dark. It’s also a VERY slow burn.

~~~~~~~

The loud rattling of the subway was silenced ever so slightly by the soft beat emitting from my earbuds. Looking around the carriage, I spotted an advertisement for a famous orchestra and their tour dates. She's gotten so far, I thought to myself, looking at the edgy, green-haired woman standing with the composer and a few other famous instrumentalists within the group. We had the same features, same voice and same upbringing, but on paper, we were from completely different worlds.

Fighting back the lonely feeling crawling up my spine, I averted my gaze to the people on the train carriage. Across from me was a man: tall, like every other member of the opposite sex compared to me, dressed in casual clothes for a young person. And he didn't stand out in a crowd. But he had a certain look. I recognised it from all the bad people and high stake criminals that frequented my home as a child. I eyed him closely before approaching him.

"Sir, what do you think you're doing?" I glared down at the hand slipping out of the pocket of the man standing in front of the suspicious character. Everyone in the area swivelled around in surprise at my judgemental tone. "You shouldn't steal, y' know. It doesn't set you in a good light." I frowned, the older man ensuring his wallet really was taken.

After exclaiming that it had been, the seemingly normal guy whipped out a pocket knife. Everyone jumped back, except for me, as the thief waved the blade around. "Don't be dramatic. Put the weapon down." I sighed out in boredom before he could lunge at me. I grabbed his wrist as it passed me and twisted my body into his, slapping the knife out of his hand and elbowing him in the face.

Falling back in painful anguish, I ignored the wails of the man to pick up his small blade. When I turned around again, having slid the blade back into the handle, a long-legged man was kneeling down to pull the thief to his feet. Before I could say anything, I saw the silver shine of handcuffs clicked around the thief's wrists. Is he a police officer? I pulled a quizzical expression as the silent man turned to me. He didn't look like much of a city policeman, not like the ones I had seen growing up. His black hair reached the bottom of his neck, not to mention scruffy like a teenage boy's. The only thing that set him apart from the police I used to see visiting my childhood home was the fact he was actually arresting the criminal.

"The public shouldn't endanger themselves." An angry expression soon took over the blank one I saw moments ago.

"Oh, err... Okay?" Thrown off by his handsome appearance, I didn't know how to respond and completely forgot I was also a cop.

Then, I saw the blood trickling down the criminal's face and my eyes grew wide when I noticed my instincts, forced upon me since I was able to walk, took over. "If you're nervous, you shouldn't do such dangerous things." He frowned at my face, twisted up in cringing embarrassment, as I was annoyed at myself for causing a scene. I had lasted this long in a small town of Nagano, being a patrol officer, and not drawn this much attention to myself before. Having this opportunity of becoming a detective, thanks to my boss sending me to a new institute for training officers like me, I had become a bit more ambitious.

"Was he acting alone?" Another tall, nicely dressed and stoic faced man appeared, only he was wearing glasses, and looked at the cuffed man being held by his acquaintance.

"Yeah. Watching his technique, I'd say it's habitual." The suited man replied, losing his look of annoyance at me. They were probably colleagues, they both had the air of lawmen, and they were the only few on the train that was still wearing blazers on a hot day like today. I wonder if they're on an investigation?

The man in glasses, who had most recently appeared, then turned to me. "Any injuries?" With his question, I was quickly pulled back to reality.

"Nope. All good." I smiled, ignoring the earlier comment from the man holding the thief I apprehended.

"It's admirable that you don't overlook crime, but please do not get involved." The smarter looking man furrowed his eyebrows, making his expression look even sterner. "It's more important that you do not get injured." His face quickly eased at the caring comment, his frown replaced with a flat smile.

Growing up, whenever I had accidentally injured myself in the hazardous place I called home, the men in my life would only get angered by my whining. When I joined the police academy, I had to show how strong I was or I'd fall so far behind the male-majority class that I'd get tossed from the class. Thrown off from being shown concern, I hastily lowered my head thankfully at the detective with a hidden badge. 

However, I felt like I needed to make them aware that  I, too, was an officer of the law. But, before I could, another one approached the one with glasses.

"You collected their garbage?" A moodily-faced man, with long, neat hair and a sloppily tightened purple tie, frowned.

"He brandished a knife on the train. I had no choice." The kind detective's expression froze over once again as he confronted his colleague.

"You could have left that thief to Little Miss Justice here." The new character glanced dismissively at me, which made me raise an eyebrow. He, on the other hand, was like the detectives I saw growing up.

"So that way your scandal isn't the only thing getting attention." The man with glasses took a jab at his associate, but it only made the other man smirk. Or was it more like an irritated grin?

"I don't want to hear anything about a scandal. That's just a lie." As I watched the two bicker, I couldn't help but wonder if they got along well enough to be able to work together.

When the train finally stopped, the moody man disembarked and the ones who helped me hauled the handcuffed man off. I watched the backs of the men who quietly discussed something between themselves until I realised it was my stop. As I ran through the closing doors, I sighed in relief that I didn't make myself late on my first day. With that rush of adrenaline, I forgot about the eventful morning that seemed to whiz by.

~~~~~~

"Wow." I gaped at the grand, white building in front of me. It was wide. The main building in the centre was four stories compared to the three-storied buildings that led off it. I could tell thanks to the rows of windows. On top was a clocktower that also had one set of windows in each of the two floors it contained. The massive archway that led into the main building made the scene look like a western college in a teen movie. Pink sakura trees lined up either side of the pathway towards the academy.

So, this is the new police academy... Amazing! A smile spread over my face as I watched the beauty of the new building unfold before me. The reason for being on that train this morning was for this school. As a girl who grew up dreaming of being a detective, I never got my opportunity to get the promotion the usual way. There were always men that got there before me. After three years of striving for excellence and finally giving up hope, my boss eventually gave me my chance by enrolling me at this academy. One built to promote officers to detectives.

I've heard the details are limited to very few officers but... My fears of all my hard work not paying off made me nervous. How did my boss know about this place? The reason it was built in private is that they'd likely get hundreds, if not thousands, of applicants within the first week! Then I never would have gotten in. There'd always be men that were ‘better’ than me.

I continued along the well-maintained path as I thought about how lucky I was to be attending such a prestigious and, not to mention, beautiful school. As I walked through the campus, I spotted a dojo to my left.

Wonder if anything's going on in there? Having grown up needing to defend myself, I trained in judo and karate, so I decided to take a look out of curiosity. It should be fine. My instructors didn't mind it when I snooped around, I thought to myself, overlooking the fact that I was the daughter of a major mafia boss and if the instructor did reprimand me, he'd lose a finger.

I was awed by the interior, watching the expansive ceiling go further than I expected it to. Looking around, I spotted a man wearing a kendo gi, robes used when performing the art, and meditating in the rays of the sunlight that filtered through the gridded window. I recognised them from what my sister practised in our youth.

He seems young, but could he be the instructor? His eyes were shut, but his expression looked kind. His long, tied-back hair was very feminine looking for a man with such youthful features. The guard he had wrapped around his torso was black compared to the blue robes he had on underneath.

Enthralled by his quiet, mysterious atmosphere, it surprised me when he opened his eyes. As a kid, I had never seen anyone let their guard down like that. To sit in a room, all alone with their eyes closed as they listened to their innermost thoughts: the concept made my nerves arise. But now, face to face with someone I had been snooping on, my heart raced. His penetrating gaze froze me over, stopping me from moving to look less inconspicuous.

Awkwardly not removing his eyes from mine, the light brown-haired man smiled softly at me. Having grown up around mostly men, I was no stranger to the variety of the male appearance. But, I had never seen a man so beautiful before. The new fantasy before me forced me to keep my mouth shut.

"Are you a new student? Reception is in that building." Hearing words come out of his mouth, I jumped back to reality. I quickly realised I was staring intensely at him and my face flushed brightly. I mentally recoiled at that embarrassing display as I thanked him.

Entering without permission and probably creeping him out... What is wrong with me?

"Good luck." His face lit up in a radiant smile. I bowed deeply to show my gratitude and ran off towards the main building.

~~~~~~

Along a glass-walled corridor, I searched for a locker room to change into the uniform the admin office had given me. I spotted one and pushed the door open, only to find myself looking at the backs of several naked men. Before anyone spotted me being a perv, I closed the door and pulled the school map out. Not seeing a distinction between the locker rooms, I called over a man in uniform.

"There's only one. But the shower room should be empty..." With an uneasy eye, the man directed me to the place where I could change. I thanked him, although I was suspicious. There wasn't a women's locker room, but there was a women's shower room? The only reason I could think of for them to think that was okay was that there were so few of us. They likely thought it was fine for us to change in the same area.

Typical. I sighed, heading for the shower room in the back, deciding to check the details later.

As I walked through the door, I was affronted with a man fixing the towel around his waist. Body still wet, I assumed he had just taken a shower.

Annoyed and embarrassed that I had put myself in another embarrassing situation for the second or third time today, I sighed out my apology. "I was told the showers would be empty." I tried to make him understand why I was still standing in the doorway, showing a small smile to help him know I wasn't some crazy girl off the street.

"Yeah, it doesn't get much emptier than this." He chuckled, seemingly not having a problem with my intrusion. My brows furrowed, confused about what the man outside had told me.

"This is the men's shower room, right? So the women's is..?" I trailed off, letting him finish my statement.

"There are no facilities at the school for girls... Except for the women's toilets, I think?" He answered without an expression change, something I quickly noticed hadn't happened since I entered.

Now allowing myself to look at him, his body was in perfect shape. Although his body was of an exceedingly fit man, his blond, bowl haircut made him look younger than I'm sure he is.

"You're kidding?" I slouched, my hope for the progressive police force dulled in a matter of minutes.

"There are only two girls this year. You and one other." He looked into the distance to think about the math. "They can't prepare facilities for so few of you." The bluntness of his statement didn't help my mood as I quickly became deflated. "Well, if you're worried, we could arrange for special times or something?" Noticing my defeat, the man gazed blankly again. "I'll be out soon, just wait a moment." Suddenly, he showed me an encouraging smile.

"Thanks." I smiled back, appreciative that he would give me my space. It was the first day for all of us, so I'm sure he understood my nervousness. Abruptly, he starts changing, right in front of me. I hurried to look away, but he didn't seem to care either way.

"Alright, don't forget to hang up the key..." Throwing the key he had left on one of the sinks, I caught it in a hurry, not wanting to look like a fool for not catching it.

"Sorry for rushing you." I gleefully showed him I’d caught the keys as he began to walk towards the door. As he approached, he closed the distance between us.

"No worries." His expression quickly turned mischievous. "Besides, I don't mind naughty girls like you." His tone was serious as he whispered in my ear, which is what threw me off.

"Naughty?" I shrieked without thinking, maybe reacting more than I should have.

"Don't be so loud. They'll hear you out there." He smirked at my reaction and I grew angry.

"Look, I'm not looking to get into anything here. I'm here to become a detective, I just wanna do that. So keep the harassment to a minimum, alright?" Trying to keep calm and not make a fool of myself, I didn't let his handsome features get the better of me. His expression went blank again. He looked me up and down, and then let out a short chuckle. Then, he left as I tried to cover up my panic.

You're not here to mess around, Atsuko! If you flirt with one guy, they'll think you're a bimbo! I told myself after I began to regret turning him down. Showering like a madman to get to the ceremony in time, I changed before running to the gymnasium.

~~~~~~

"So, it looks like it's just you and me." I laughed with a sigh, having met the only other female student at the academy in the gym.

"Hey, I'm just glad I'm not alone and have you here, Atsuko." She sighed in relief as we stood in the bustling hall. It was full of skyscraping men in the same blue uniforms as us.

"Me too! I was a little surprised when you hugged me, though." I laughed uneasily, not wanting to offend her over-friendly attitude. She was a cheery girl with short, brown hair and hadn't stopped smiling since we met.

"I was just happy to see another girl for the first time since school started." Naruko Sasaki sat beside me in the plastic, foldable chairs. She's my age, which I'm thankful for. I struggle to not feel intimidated by those older than me. And I think my pride would take a hit if some young probie was admitted into the school. Although, Naruko did act a little childishly.

"It's only people chosen from the force... I guess it's unavoidable that they're all men." Naruko sighed after inspecting the testosterone-heavy room. 

"Chosen? So it's not a lottery?" I turned to her, surprised to hear that. Coming from a small, boring town, I was surprised that I would be selected for such a prestigious opportunity. 

"It might be a lottery in the end, but only people with connections qualify, right?" Clueless to my surprise, the girl just smiled. I quietly agreed with her, trying to think of any connections I would have to get me here. I didn't have the same name as I did in my childhood, so any crooked cops that worked under my dad wouldn't be able to track me down. 

"It's called a police academy, but it's meant to train elite public safety detectives." Naruko continued explaining the school to me. I yelled out in surprise. I really had no clue what I was getting myself into when my boss threw this assignment on my plate. The Public Safety Division is an elite group within the National Police Academy. Honestly, I would have been happy to become a homicide or narcotics detective. I never thought, coming here, I would be trained to deal with terrorism or anything with that degree of danger.

"Uhh, Atsuko... Did you apply without knowing anything?" Naruko finally caught on to my confusion as she showed her own astonished expression. 

"My superior told me I could become a detective if I graduate..." To be honest, It was my fault I was in this mess. I hardly asked any questions before jumping at the offer.

As I circled further into my confusion spiral, the ceremony began. The Director gave a strong, hardened greeting, then the instructors took to the stage. There, I saw all the men I had run-ins with walk up onto the stage. 

"They're all so young... I thought they'd be retirement-aged..." Naruko whispered to me, excited shock written all over her face. I, on the other hand, couldn't hear anything she was saying. "And they're all so handsome in their uniforms." She squealed as quietly as possible as the Director continued. I tried to quieten her before she drew too much attention. 

I struggled to keep my jaw from dropping, fear of embarrassing myself in front of all my new teachers taking over my thoughts. Surely, hopefully, they don't remember me?

Around us, I heard our classmates also gossiping about the instructors. One I heard questioned how good they could possibly be, only being a little older than us.

Stepping up to the microphone, I saw the moody man from this morning. "My name is Hyogo Kaga, Public Safety Captain." He announced, and I felt my insides crumble. 

He called me Little Miss Justice... I'm going to be a laughing-stock. I slid down in my chair, wanting the world to swallow me whole. I didn't have the guts to tell them I was a cop. If they recognise me, they're going to think I'm a rookie or completely inept.

"We'll be instructing you while we perform our everyday duties as officers. We can't afford to waste our time on spoiled brats." His bluntness silenced the room of anyone that might still be gossiping. "If you have no potential, we will drop you. That is all." With that statement, which I felt was personally directed at me, I went into a state of existential crisis. I didn't even know what the academy was training us for, which showed how good of a detective I would be. I so badly wanted not to be the first out, but surely I would be one of the dropouts. I had no connections and very little detective training. The most of an official investigation I’d seeb was when I was given scut jobs the real detectives didn't want to do. Let's just say I’d been in far too many dumpsters than a human being should’ve been in.

"Terrible way of speaking, but he's still handsome!" As Naruko continued to whisper to me, I got to learn what kind of girl she was. It would be difficult for her to focus here. Over the silence Captain Kaga had created, I heard another classmate explain how he was the most skilled person in Public Safety. Then, the man he was talking to began to argue that "Ishigami" was the one who couldn't be matched and would easily beat Kaga in a fight.

After the Captain, the man with glasses stepped forward. That must be Ishigami, I thought, remembering how un-scary he seemed on the train this morning. The man announced he was, in fact, Ishigami, and that he was a Captain as well. "This school will produce excellent officers. I want you all aiming to create a force that can take down terrorism and foreign crime." His ambitions for the students threw me another punch to the gut, until I remembered what the school was built for.

When Captain Ishigami stepped down, the messy-haired man approached the mic. "I'm Goto. Member of Ishigami's Team." The man was as blunt and as harsh as he had been this morning. "My rank is Lieutenant. Thank you." And like that, he was gone, replaced with the long-haired man I had found in the dojo.

"Hehe, what a short greeting. That's so like Goto," Now in a police uniform, the beauty introduced himself while I tried to ignore Naruko jittering at all the hot guys that had been on the stage so far. "Nice to meet you, I'm Shusuke Soma, also a member of Ishigami's Team. My rank is First Lieutenant. I hope to grow alongside all of you. Thank you." He smiled in the same gentle, pleasant way he had when I’d met him, which only made it harder to listen to their speeches without wanting to destroy myself. Naruko announced that the 1st Lieutenant was her type and I quickly prayed that she would shut up before she was caught and got us both in trouble for gossiping and made fools of.

Appearing after Soma was the man I saw in the shower room. I did not accuse an instructor of trying to harass me, please, God, tell me I didn't. I slid further down my chair, the heavy weight of my actions pushing me down. 

"I'm Ayumu Shinonome of Kaga's Team. My rank is Lieutenant." And, of course he had to be a lieutenant, not some rookie who was there to step in for some retiree on sick leave. "Feel free to call me Ayumu. Thanks." He smiled before the gossiping started again.

"Shinonome is a genius and the youngest officer to ever be selected for the top squad." Naruko and I were awed at overhearing that fact, although for different reasons. 

He must think I'm incompetent for standing around in the shower room while he changed. I sighed to myself as Naruko categorized our instructors into who would be the easiest to get along with. Our classmates also vocalised their prayers of not being taught by the Captains of the unit. However, I heard one voice that helped me refocus my reasons for being here. "But only the best become instructors at this school. They're all super-elite. Don't you want to train under the greats?"

~~~~~~

After all the daily and special instructors had been introduced, (there were only 20), a supervisor stepped up to the platform, announcing that the ceremony was over. "New students, change into suits and report to the Monitor Room." Everyone the instruction was directed to stood in unison, all either eager to get to work or scared of being reprimanded. 

"I wonder what we do in this so-called Monitor Room?" Naruko thought aloud as we shuffled out of the hall within the masses of men. "Ah, I forgot my map. I'll be there after I go get it." She showed me a clumsy smile as we parted ways, me telling her I was going to change, as instructed.

As I approached the doorway, I ran into Captain Ishigami. Avoid eye contact. If I can't see you, you can't see me, I thought to myself, trying to not look at the floor or in his general direction. However, maybe by some sort of telepathy, the captain began walking towards me. I tried to inconspicuously navigate my way through the masses and out of his way, but the boys wouldn't part. I frowned up at the back of the person that was blocking me as the instructor stopped in front of me. 

"Captain! Great speech up there, sir!" Trying to play it off like I wouldn't know what he was approaching me for, I smiled to try and distract him. 

"You are an officer?" His gaze turned serious, just like it had before he had started talking to me this morning, as he pushed his glasses further up his nose. "I thought I had no choice with there being only innocent people around..." He trailed off, referring to his team's interference. If it were anyone else, I would have explained that he didn't have to step in. But, by his tone, I could see I was on thin ice as it was. 

"But the story changes if you're an officer. Dragging the public into a dangerous situation like that is an embarrassment." He frowned, gritting his teeth as if it was going to help him hold back. 

You have no idea, I thought to myself, feeling the eyes of every person in the room watching eagerly for the first student to be kicked out of the school. I bowed in apology, thinking it best to not retaliate with how I had handled the situation.

"A passenger could have been taken hostage. Did you consider that?" He continued to frown down at me. 

"That's why I disarmed him." I let the words slip without thinking, my heart racing the second I realised what I had said. I couldn't look him in the eye as I asked myself if I had just done what I had done.

"Ah, so that was you this morning." The instructor I had met in the shower room approached the situation as I felt myself turn to stone. Ishigami hadn't responded yet and I couldn't tell if it was because he had never met anyone stupid enough to talk back to him or if he was just too ticked off to respond calmly. 

"You better make sure Kaga doesn't run into you, the perp we were tailing got away during that mess." Ayumu Shinonome laughed at the inconvenience. 

"I wasn't aware I hindered an investigation. I'm so sorry." I gasped, bowing again as I wished I could re-do this day. It would have been better if I was hit by the train.

"Hmm, don't just apologise with your mouth..." Instructor Shinonome's tone was surprisingly stern. "I want you to take responsibility... But that was my fault too." His face was suddenly in front of mine, him having closed the distance once again. 

"Responsibility?" I question, trying not to be affected by his forwardness as I took a step back. Thankfully, Ishigami stepped in between us. 

"That can wait for later. Hurry up and change, then get to the Monitor Room." Either misinterpreting what Ayumu had said or wanting me to get out of his sight, the Captain allowed me to leave with all my body parts intact.

~~~~~~

In the Monitor Room, the small amount of new students looked around in awe of all the technology covering the surfaces. There was a long wall of monitors that I'm sure gave the room its name. 

"Our first round of training will begin now." Ishigami caused confusion within the small crowd of students and the air grew thick with tension. 

"But I thought today was just orientation?" Naruko sulked, joining in on the bewildered complaining of our classmates.

"Anyone who can't make it through this training will receive a special punishment. So look forward to it, scum." Captain Kaga smirked down at all of us. As the rest fretted over the punishment the losers could receive, I was caught on what he had called us. 

"Scum?" I sighed, wondering what need he had to belittle us like that.

"Additionally, we'd like to reward those with excellent results. So please do your best." Instructor Soma, the man I saw in the dojo, seemed more joyful than the rest of his team. "Especially those who want to get ahead." Reminding us all that this school was a race that we were all competing in to become the best detectives for the Public Safety Division, Soma sounded more easy-going than the statement was. As I looked around at all the faces of classmates lighting up at the notion of progressing, I realised how career-driven they must be. They were aiming for the top.

"This is training for undercover investigations and will be done with an instructor," Ishigami spoke up again. The idea made my heart rate with excitement. Going undercover was like something out of a movie and a perfect occasion for me to show how ‘ordinary’ I can be. I had been living out of the spotlight for four years now; I would be able to continue in the shadows. 

"You will be going undercover to a location designated by the instructor. This time we'll let you decide which instructor you'll pair with in order of ranking. Number one is..." Looking down at the clipboard in his hands, Ishigami's brows frowned at the name listed as the best performer in this class.

"...Atsuko Motomori." Announcing the name I had taken as my own after leaving my family, I was shocked to hear it. Even Naruko seemed confounded. 

"That's amazing!" Probably thinking she had made a great friend to learn from, I quickly grew worried that my boss back in Nagano had altered my resume to make me look more appealing. I had been working in a small town, doing the most basic police work for three long years. There was no way I could hold a candle to half the people here.

Knowing about my earlier failure of not being able to look away from injustice, Ishigami stared at me in disbelief. Beside him, Shinonome bore a strangely knowing smile on his face. Looking around the room at the five instructors I had met standing before me, I couldn't help but freak out. I had the chance to work with anyone I liked and learn the years of high-stake experience they had collated.

"Motomori, who will you partner with?" Ishigami closed the book of names and held it under his arm, keeping a close eye on how I was reacting. Letting my eyes meet each one of the detectives' before me, I took in a deep breath to calm my nerves.

What Harry Potter Got Wrong about Orphans and Adoption.

So, given the TERF that terfed all terfs. And given that I don’t want to profit from a terf... I’m posting this essay I did on Rowling I intended to originally post for a Magazine on how to write adoptees and adoption, but it fell through. Maybe we can learn something?

BTW, written before she went off the deep end of TERFing. Like 2007-ish or earlier. So this was before she went off about Native American Gods. Before she TERFed. And before she did some weird retconning --what I now call a Rowling... BTW, if you’re looking for a roast fest--this isn’t it. Credit to my wonderful voluntary, unpaid, though I tried to pay her Writer’s Assistant for the Harry Potter quotes. I couldn’t have done this essay without her.

The top reason that writers put in adoption or orphans into stories is because they feel that it will simplify the story for them. When I asked two different group of writers, the answer was almost universally the same, they felt that putting in an orphan should simplify the story. This, too, was the case with Harry Potter. JK Rowling explained this in 1999 when she was writing Harry Potter still in a Guardian interview, "...but Harry HAD to be an orphan - so that he's a free agent, with no fear of letting down his parents, disappointing them?" But unlike the previous adoption stories, JK Rowling have a fair amount of adopted persons and orphans, mostly intrafamily adopted.

Harry falls into the writer trap of the closer the blood ties, the less likely there will be attachment problems between child and care giver. This tradition started out with Brothers Grimm who changed many of the parents to step-parents. (The Hard Facts of the Grimms' Fairy Tales, Maria Tatar, p. 36) Also that in abuse, which is frequently associated with adoption, that it will make the orphan free to do what they like. However, this assumption is an error. Children by their nature want to please their caregivers no matter what relation they are. In the case of adding emotional and sometimes physical abuse that Harry endures, it does not free him from trying to please his guardians, the Dursleys. Being an orphan is not the key to being a "free agent" and the idea that adoption, in this case intrafamily adoption could simplify matters is in error. Harry Potter was an orphan left on the doorstep of his Aunt and Uncle's, the Dursleys by the Head Master of Hogwarts. This was after the sudden death of his parents. It is unlikely that the Dursleys would be automatically allowed to raise him and get guardianship, despite what the story says. On the British government website, it says that in order to adopt there has to be legal proceedings.

The steps of this include several visits from a social worker, at least three references with two outside references, preparation classes, a police check, and a full medical examination. They also have to register through an adoption agency and then apply for a court order which can take up to eight months. (https://www.gov.uk/child-adoption/adoption-assessment)

Even in the case where there is a step parent, the assessment still takes place for the family and consent has to be given. (https://www.gov.uk/child-adoption/adopting-a-stepchild)

This means the Potters, by no indication, had a will to give Harry up to the Dursleys, would make a far less likely that Harry would be placed in an abusive home. Add to that the fact that Harry's Aunt has a history of disliking her sister, they made Harry live below the stairs, and neither Mr. or Mrs Dursley have shown throughout the series to have any sort of patience with Harry, and the initial adoption looks even less likely.

Writing that one can be left on a doorstep disenfranchises the entire adoption community and the government who has tried hard to give a second chance to children like Harry. It ignores the parents that waited for those eight months, the feelings of abandonment that can manifest in some adopted people, as well as the care and thought that relinquishing parents may have for their child's welfare. Adoption is not a fictional object such as a dragon--it impacts real people and real lives.

However, this problem also continues because it ignores the fact that by adding two guardians to the story, there are more rather than less characters previously. Adding more characters is more, not less complex. There are Harry's parents, Harry's Aunt and Uncle and by proxy, his Aunt and Uncle's child. This means there were three characters added instead of the original three. This also means for each character there has to be at least a personality and background added for each character, if one is to be fair. This means in total, JK Rowling had to do more work rather than less work because now instead of three characters to work on she has six characters to work on, thus doubling her load.

Often adoption is combined with abuse in fiction and Harry Potter was no different.

Harry was abused emotionally.

“Now, you listen here, boy.” he snarled. “I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured – and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion – asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types – just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end-” Chapter 4 pg 46 (Uncle Vernon)

And he was abused physically through neglect.

"Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age." Chapter 2 Pg20

This continues such that the Dursleys treat Harry as he is not there once Harry gets the upper hand.

"Harry's last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of Harry he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Harry in his cupboard, force him to do anything or shout at him- in fact, they didn't speak to him at all. Half- terrified, half-furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry in it was empty." Chapter 6 pg 67 The idea is that the adoption puts distance between the child and their caretakers, thus they must love them less. But this assumption talks about the amount of love based on title, rather than love is universal despite title, which would be a positive message for children to have--that title does not matter in the amount of love one can give or receive. In fact, this was one message I, personally, did receive from adoption, but I still see the myth continued, especially through fiction that title matters on quantity rather than the type or quality of love.

Abuse of a child, psychological, emotional or neglect does not mean that the child will become a free agent to decide what they want. Often children from such circumstances become overly compliant, withdrawn and passive. They can become hyper vigilant and have learning problems.

(https://www.childwelfare.gov/pubs/factsheets/signs.cfm) This would make Harry, in the case of the systemic and relentless abuse of the Dursleys more dependent and less of a free agent as JK Rowling intended.

Despite this, credit does have to be given to Ms. Rowling in fixing the adoption issues in the last book of the series, though this does not completely turn the tide for the other six books. This most likely came about because Voldemort, the top villain of the book was also described as an orphan. So along with Voldemort, Ms. Rowling added Amy Benson, Dennis Bishop, Ted Lupin, Billy Stubbs, an unnamed Orphan and Eric Whaley. (http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Category:Orphans) Only Ted Lupin is fleshed out and talked about as having a happy intrafamily relationship, which is only reflected on by Harry at the end of the seventh Harry Potter book. This would make it pass the more than one orphan and the polarized orphan syndrome, but just barely and maybe barely doesn't really count if dropped in at the last minute.

This makes Harry the principal character with which adoption ideas are drawn from with the second character being Neville Longbottom, whose grandmother is very strict with him, which undermines his self-confidence initially. This makes both adopted people in the book someone to pity and built on false assumptions of how adoption works.

Neither character are really given a chance to show what a loving, supportive family would be like, which may actually make Harry more, rather than less of a free agent as JK Rowling initially stated. Harry's confidence would boost which would give him the power, as shown in the books, to try new things, dare to rise up and be more consistent for his character development. There would be less characters overall that would have to be mentioned.

This series does manage to avoid many of the traps of writing orphans, but only achieves this at the very last book in a sweeping last minute save, which is worth noting, however, that means that for the span the books were written the titular character of Harry and eventually Neville's home life influenced how orphans were viewed.

This goes to show that not only does adoption complicate the plot with the addition of characters, but it also does not make any character more or less of a free agent to do what they want when they want it. They are still beholden to their parents, alive or dead. And that abuse has nothing to do with adoption, so should not be combined as an excuse, especially if one wants to make the child free to make healthy decisions for themselves. *** Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept. Chapter 2 pg20Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. Chapter 2 Pg20

The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn't there – or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug. Chapter 2 pg 22Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-coloured bobble hats – but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large, blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a roundabout at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house,too. Chapter 2 pg.19

“I'm warning you,” he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, “I'm warning you now, boy – any funny business, anything at all – and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas.” Chapter 2 pg.23 ( Uncle Vernon)

Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn't know what time it was and he couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food. Chapter 2 pg27

“Get the post, Dudley,” said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper. “Make Harry get it.” “Get the post, Harry.” “Make Dudley get it.” “Poke him with your Smeltings stick, Dudley.” Chapter 3 Pgs 29-30

“I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?” Chapter 3 pg 31 (Uncle Vernon)

Of course, his birthdays were never exactly fun – last year, the Dursleys had given a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. Chapter 3 pg 36 ( Harry Potter)

“Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as – as- abnormal – and then,, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!” (Aunt Petunia)

Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, “Blown up? You old me they died in a car crash!” Chapter 4 pg. 44

“Now, you listen here, boy.” he snarled. “I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured – and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion – asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types – just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end-” Chapter 4 pg 46

(Uncle Vernon)Harry's last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of Harry he wouldn't' stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Harry in his cupboard, force him to do anything or shout at him- in fact, they didn't speak to him at all. Half- terrified, half-furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry in it was empty. Chapter 6 pg 67

fuck it. rey organa solo

or how this scene in the rise of skywalker should’ve went. 

Her training was vigorous and longer than she would’ve liked, but it kept Rey focussed and balanced and she knew deep down that it was necessary. When the battle droids stopped firing, only then was Rey able to slow down into a light jog and then stop altogether. She turned off Luke’s newly fixed lightsaber and turned back into the clearing where General Leia was waiting.

The tropical jungle planet of Ajan Kloss was the Resistants new base, and while it had been a year since they had landed there shortly after the massacre on Crait, Rey still found herself marvelling the beautiful scenery around her. Thoughts about Crait and what happened there began to creep back into her mind, and Rey’s mood soured instantly. She kept replaying it in her head and going over each situation in her head, trying to think about what she could’ve differently. If I hadn’t wasted time with Kylo, I could’ve saved more. I could’ve helped The Resistance. I could’ve saved Luke…

However, deep in her distressing thoughts, she didn’t even realize she had made it back to the clearing. She nearly walked right into the General!

“Whoa, hold on Rey, are you alright?” Leia asked and jolsted Rey out of her trance. Knowing that she should be mindful of her thoughts, Rey shook her head and reassured her. But Leia knew better.

“You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you? Crait. Luke. Kylo…” Leia correctly guessed and Rey knew it was because of her force sensitivity and their bond with each other. When Rey started with Leia, their Force bond was immediately strong and it grew with every session, trial and lesson. Like her bond with Finn, it was ever-present and calming, non-pervasive and genuine, so unlike her unnatural bond with Kylo.

“Yes… I am,” Rey admitted. “How can I not think about it?” 

“It makes you feel low.” Leia surmised again and Rey nods.

“More than just feeling low, but like a failure,” Rey confesses and Kylo’s nasty remarks come to her mind again. You come from nothing, you’re nothing….

“Oh Rey…”Leia sighs and guides her to sit down. “I know that feeling all too well. When the Empire destroyed Alderaan for my lie, I couldn’t help but think of all the ways it could’ve happened. Millions of my people’s lives would have been spared  if I had done something different. Eventually, after my grief passed, I could only come to the conclusion that they were going to use Alderaan as a demonstration of the first Death Star’s might to the rest of the galaxy, no matter what I could’ve said or done. What matters is what we do afterwards to make it was all worth it, to do better and learn from our mistakes and to keep pushing forward,” Leia affirms and she stares into the distance. “It’s a lesson I’ve learned and still am learning today…”

For a few moments, Rey quietly absorbs the General’s words and wisdom. It comforts her but there was still something she’ll never get over…

“There’s still something bothering you?” Leia inquires and Rey slowly nods.

“Before I joined you all on Crait, you know how I went to confront Kylo on Snoke’s ship,” Rey recounted and Leia nods quickly. “When he rejected my help to turn him, he also made an offer in turn for me to join the First Order and become his apprentice to the dark side. He said that I come from nothing, and that I am nothing.... But not to him,” Rey finished bitterly. Suddenly, Leia’s grip on her hand tightened  and her expression hardened as turned to face Rey.

“Kylo lied to you, Rey. You’re not nothing and you don’t come from nothing.”

“Yes, and he said my parents sold me off for drinking money and that they were nothing.”

“He lied again. I have something very important I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time now, I thought I’d never had the time to, with how busy we’ve been, but truthfully, I’ve been putting it off. I thought if I told you after the war was over you’d understand but its pastime you’d know now. Ben is not Han and I’s only child. We wanted to wait a bit until we had another but then, a bit turned out to be almost 10 years. A daughter was born to us and we named her after my mother, Breha Organa’s mother, Aureyla. But we all called you “Rey” for short. I knew Ben was being corrupted from the darkside since before he was born and when you were only two years old, he had inadvertently hurt you with his abilities. So Han, Luke and I decided to take precautions and enrolled him full time as Luke’s padawan in his new Jedi academy and we hid you away, on Lah’mu, away from the dark influence preying on both of Anakin Skywalker’s descendants. We placed you under the care of the locals and we visited you ever moon cycle, sometimes twice. But we were wrong to have thought you’re identity would stay undiscovered. I guess the Lah-mui saw the famed Rebellion generals Han Solo and Leia Organa too frequently visiting the little girl and put together the pieces,” Leia’s voice breaks and a tear slips down her cheek, but she continues. “When you were just one moon shy of six years old, a few drunk locals took you from your caregivers to Jakku and sold you for drinking money. Greed can be as dangerous of a vice as the dark side is.”

Rey could hardly believe what she was hearing. She wouldn’t have believed what was she heard if it was said by just anybody, having been trained to recognize deceit through the Force, but Rey senses through her bond with Leia that every word she said was true. Every cell within her pulsed and sang with the new revelation, the truth. Finally, finally.

“I… so you’re my…. My mum,” Rey stammered out and General Leia, her kriffing mum, shyly smiles and nods. “If you’re my mum… then Ben is….”

“Your older brother, yes.”

“And Han was my… is my…” Just saying Han’s name made Rey’s heart clench and tears spring to her eyes. The image of his death still burned in her mind and knowing that it was her brother killed their father pushed the tears out. “Did he even recognize me a year ago?”

“He did and when you were taken, we planned to tell you as soon as you were rescued. As the years passed and we still couldn’t find you, Han lost hope the most although I tried reassured him that I knew you were still alive due to our force bond. Your disappearance coupled with Ben succumbing to the darkside and Luke’s exile painfully pushed him back into smuggling and we separated. Please understand that I never game up hope for you, but the First Order rose so quickly and Luke’s disappearance also made it so much more difficult for me to find you. For fourteen years, not a day went by without me thinking about you, Rey.” At that, they both stood up and met in the middle for a bone-crushing hug.

It could’ve been minutes, hours or a few days but time didn’t matter to Rey now, not when she was wrapped in the warm embrace of her mother. Their force bond was so palpable and enrapturing, it filled them with such a feeling of content and happiness, so much that Rey never wished for it to end. Then something dawned on her.

“Wait,” she sniffled, still slightly crying. “You and Han being my parents must mean that Luke is my…”

“Uncle.” A voice Rey never thought she’d hear again sounded from behind her and she gasped when she turned around. It was Luke, but not quite Luke. He wore the Jedi robes she last saw him in but his visage was tinged with an outwardly blue glow and he was nearly transparent. This was the corporeal Force spirit one could project after they’ve died, Rey knew from reading the Jedi texts she took from Ahch-to. 

“So you recognized me too, huh?” Rey questioned, curious to know why he lied to her as well.

“I knew…. But I didn’t care,” Luke admitted, almost shamefully. “I couldn’t make myself care. Then, I asked who you are to see if you even knew but you didn’t, so I didn’t care. I’m sorry I died without having properly greeted my niece and for not treating her with the respect she deserves. And for not being the teacher I should’ve been.”

His sincere apology touched Rey deeply and she smiled at her uncle. She knew now the reason for his indifference and could not hold it against him now. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry for attacking you that night.”

“All is forgiven,” Luke reassured her and he smiled gratefully. “I know this is all coming as a shock to you, I thought my parents were nobodies too until I got a rude awakening.”

“Luke, you can’t hold that against me forever,” another voice chimed in and Rey and Leia whirled around to see what it was. Another force spirit had appeared, a man older than Rey but younger than Luke and Leia, dressed in Jedi robes with shoulder length hair and bore a strong resemblance to Luke and Leia, even herself. 

“Father,” Luke greeted warmly and walked around to him.

“Anakin,” Leia acknowledged him but stayed close to Rey. Father… Anakin… Skywalker. My grandfather.

“All of our family’s problems seems to just repeat themselves,” Luke mused and then remembered himself. “Father, this is Aureyla, Leia and Han’s daughter. She wields our lightsaber now.”

Rey didn’t think she’d be making introductions to the notorious Darth Vader when she woke up earlier, but here she was. A lame “Hi” was all she could manage to say.

“From what Luke has told me, you’re strong in the ways of the Force. As strong or even stronger than me. Rey, you could be the one to bring balance once and for all and destroy the Sith foever. But you will be tempted and tested,” Anakin firmly stated. “Don’t fall victim to the dark side as your brother did, try to overcome it with everything you have.”

“A thousand generations live in you now…. But this is your fight,” Luke adds. However, Rey still has one more inquiry to make.

“What about Ben? I know he’s been seduced to the dark-side and has chosen it over and over, but what if there’s still a chance he could be saved,” Rey asks and her relatives look uncertain. “I don’t know if I can kill my brother knowing there’s a chance he could change.”

An uneasy silence falls over then and then Anakin speaks up. “You’ll do what feels right. Your instincts and feelings will guide you towards the answer. You can make your choice to save him, whilst Kylo can choose to continue his path and ignore any other options. You’ll know what to do then.”

The unspoken words were there, plain as day: If he won’t make the choice to join you and save himself, kill him or let him die. It left a bad taste in her mouth but Rey knew she would have to make the hard decision herself when the time again. Her father’s death flashes before her eyes again and Rey knew Kylo would have at least that to answer for. She nods grimly.

“I wish we all could’ve been a family together, Rey laments and Anakin’s eyes soften. “There’s so much I want to know about you all.”

“We’ll be with you Rey. Soon, after this is over, we’ll appear to you and we’ll talk about whatever you’d like,” Luke consoles her.

“May the Force be with you,” Anakin proclaims and they suddenly depart with a soft fade. Taking their advice and wisdom to heart and mind, Rey looks to her mother with resolve. 

“Let’s go Mum, we’ve got a war to win.”

Nursing Home AU extended

@greenninjagal-blog​ asked for more and I couldn’t say no. XD

Okay, so I’ve posted some about Roman and Logan’s history here. This also includes potential Moxiety within the AU, but not set in stone.

And I’ve talked about how Deceit might fit into the AU here.

Other than that, here’s some headcannons!

Virgil’s criminal record includes a stint in prison.

He was in a bad place in life, hanging out with the wrong crowd.

But he still went along with them, he could have said no.

But he didn’t, and then he was arrested for theft.

He got released on good behavior.

This was some years back and his old friends weren’t so lucky.

They’re still in prison at the present time of the AU, as far as Virgil is aware.

Remus was admitted to the nursing home first.

Roman just wants to establish that with everyone, okay?

His brother had to go first.

Roman’s only there because he’s bidding his time before his next great adventure.

Not because his hip totally gave out on him and his kids were like, “Pops, you can’t keep trying to do all this stuff you did when you were younger. Go live with Dad in the home.”

When Roman first moved in there, Logan said, “Took you long enough.”

Roman likes to go on walks with Logan on their good days. And by walks, I mean Roman will push Logan around in the wheelchair as they drift around the little garden areas.

They also love to play chess. They’re pretty evenly matched.

Remy visits them more than their own kids do.

Remy says his greatest influence in life is his kickass granddads.

Remy is also loved by most of the other patients there. On Friday evenings, he’ll sometimes show up and host Bingo Night.

Logan hates Bingo Night.

“There’s no intellectual challenge here. It’s just chance!”

“Don’t be a spoil sport, darling. Also, I just won.”

Logan might not be able to flip the table, but he does throw the little plastic chips at Roman’s smug face.

Remy also likes to visit his Great Uncle Remus.

Uncle Remus forgets who Remy is half the time.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“I’m you, but younger and hotter.”

“Remy??? My dear boy, you’ve grown since the last time I saw you as a little gremlin!”

“You just saw me last week, Uncle Remus.”

Remy can never tell if Remus’s memory is truly going or if he does it just to mess with him.

Remus does find it hard to remember things some days.

He has bad days where he’ll go into trance-like states. He’s really out of it and sometimes forgets where he is.

On the really bad days, he’s screaming and throwing things and saying some really bizarre/disturbing shit.

Roman always gets really quiet on those days. He usually has to keep his distance.

“I tend to make it worse,” Roman says sadly.

It takes a long time, because no one really wants to talk about it, but Virgil eventually gets a glimpse of Remus’s backstory.

He learns that Remus and Roman were separated at some point for many years. They used to be close, but then Remus went missing.

“It was like he just fell off the face of the planet,” Roman tells Virgil. “I didn’t hear anything from him for twenty years.”

Virgil never learns why Remus went missing. He just knows that whatever happened during that time, life was not kind to him.

Virgil ends up becoming good friends with Remy.

He also, slowly but surely, warms up to Patton.

They start taking lunch breaks together.

Virgil had thought Patton disapproved of him at first (and well, he wasn’t wrong was he?).

But now it’s like Patton’s making more of an attempt to be friends with him and Virgil is wary of the mixed signals.

If nothing else, Virgil comes to very much respect Patton.

He sees that Patton is one of those people who genuinely loves his job and loves people.

And whenever anything goes wrong, people run to Patton because they know he can help.

“You’re like, a dad,” Virgil comments.

“A dad?”

“Yeah, you act like everyone’s dad. Plus, all the puns.”

“Haha, I suppose. I mean, I am a dad.”

“Wait, for real?”

“Yep! I’ve got a son. His name’s Thomas. Wanna see a picture?”

And before Virgil knows it, Patton is going full-dad mode showing him all the pictures on his phone of some little five-year-old kid.

Patton had wanted to be a dad for so long.

And even though he didn’t have a partner to help raise a child, he wouldn’t let that stop him.

So he adopted, and he’s never made a better decision in his life.

“Isn’t that kinda hard?” Virgil asks. “Since you work a lot.”

“I do, but whenever I can’t be home, Thomas stay with my sister. And whenever I am home, I make sure to give him all of my attention. Parenting takes effort, and Thomas is worth it.”

Virgil even meets the kid one day.

Patton’s sister brings Thomas by during their lunch break. Thomas runs right up to Patton, yelling, “DADDYYYY!”

They hug and it’s really cute and shit.

And yes, Virgil feels like he’s intruding.

But then Patton introduces Thomas to Virgil, and Thomas finally notices Virgil sitting there.

Thomas’s eyes go wide.

He scuttles closer to his dad, not taking his eyes off Virgil.

“What’s wrong, bud?” Patton asks his son.

Thomas doesn’t answer, instead asking Virgil in a quiet voice, “...are you a vampire, mister?”

Virgil doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, but he leans over the table and says, “Only on the weekends.”

It’s a Saturday.

Thomas full-heartedly believes Virgil is a vampire from then on, no matter what his dad says.

When Patton comes home from work, Thomas frequently asks questions about the “Vampire Man”.

Thomas likes getting to visit his dad at work even more now because he gets to meet the Vampire Man. He asks Virgil a lot of questions.

“So-so do you turn into a bat?”

“Sometimes.”

“And drink people’s blood?”

“Yep.”

“What about cows?”

“What about them?”

“Do you drink cow blood?”

“I mean, I could.”

“What about plant blood?”

“I’m not sure you understand how this works.”

Patton is amused by it all. He thinks it’s really cute, and Virgil even brings some fake fangs to work with him one day when he knows Thomas is supposed to come visit.

He ends up playfully chasing Thomas around the break room.

Thomas runs screaming gleefully.

“Thomas really likes you,” Patton says after his son and sister leave.

Virgil’s quiet a moment and then says, “Lots of kids like me for some reason. I’ve never really liked kids though.”

“You don’t?” Patton asks in confusion. “But you’re so good with him.”

“Well just because I don’t like kids doesn’t mean I have to show it. It’s not like it’s their fault. I’m not a total asshole. Kids are really sensitive, ya know? They can pick up on when they’re not wanted. I’m not gonna be the dick to make them feel that way.”

As Virgil is learning to respect Patton, Patton respects Virgil more and more too.

Sigyn still remembers the day when she got to know that she was pregnant. It had been a few years after their marraige. She didn't realize it first. It was her personal handmaiden who brought up the guess when she mentioned to her that she was feeling funny and sick all the time.

"My lady, I think you're pregnant."

"Noooo. What? Seriously?"

"Yes. I think. All the symptoms matches."

"Listen, don't tell anyone before we are sure."

"Yes my lady. If you want then we can go to the healer's chamber to make sure."

That day at the healer's chamber of the Palace, Sigyn got the best news of her life. She was going to become a mother. And if she knew there were two lovely boys waiting for her, she would have burst out with joy. She always thought marrying Loki had been the best thing in her life, until now.

She decided that the first one to know would be the father himself, not the Queen, not even her own mother. She had waited for Loki in their chamber much long the night, but he was late. He has went to one of the councel meetings with Thor. In the next morning she had to hurry because she had a lot of work to do. Morning went to afternoon, and afternoon went to evening. Finally in the night when she had the chance to be alone with Loki, some guard came and told Loki that Thor wants him to accompany him to one of the parties he was invited to. But this time, Sigyn was fed up. She caught her husband's hand and told him to leave Thor alone for a single evening because his wife wants him.

Loki couldn't have guessed what was waiting for him. And then Sigyn broke the news.

"Loki, I'm pregnant." she said smiling.

"My darling what did you just say?" Loki couldn't believe what he just heard.

"You heard it, my little ball of mischief, I'm going to be the mother of your children." she said and wrapped her arms around him.

Loki took her up in his arms and whrilled her around shouting "Oh Sigyn, you can't imagine how happy I am! We are gonna have little babies, of our own."

"Off course, our own. You, the most clever man on Asgard, listen to yourself." Sigyn giggled.

"Oh, look at me how silly I already am."

"It's fine, love. We can both be silly togather when we'll be parents." she said caressing Loki's hairs.

"But......" Loki now turned around to face the wall.

"What is it?"

"Sigyn. What kind of a father will I become? I know you'll be the best parent our child will have, but me? I'm a Frost Giant and my own experiences are harsh. My own father left be abandoned on a rock, and the one who adopted me, gave me a new life, but always preffered the other son before me. I never knew what father's love is. How can I give my child something that I don't know of?"

"You'll be a better father than them. You know how they were, how they treated you. You have their examples. You may not know how to be a father, but you particularly know what NOT to do as a father. I know you'll be the best father in all of nine realms, you'll be their favourite. Not me, not Grandma Frigga, but Papa. Loki you are such a good man, you just don't know it, but I do. You have to believe me. Will you darling?"

"Yes, my love." Loki said and kissed her hand that had been caressing his face all this time.

That night they told Frigga about the news. Oh how happy she was to know that she was going to be a grandmother. She arranged for garden parties and royal feasts for the announcement of the new baby that was to take birth in the royal palace. But Sigyn stopped her, telling her that she was afraid the royal family had a lot of enemies and they might try to do harm. So Frigga understood and cancelled all those. She assured her that as long as the King and Queen were alive, no harm will be done to their grandchildren.

Vali and Narfi have now grown up into little toddlers roaming around the Palace here and there. It has been so many years since the day they were born. Sigyn has to keep an eye on her kids all the time otherwise they will hide somewhere and hurt themselves or someone else. They were like two Lokis. And we don't need to know how notorious they were. Vali got Sigyn's golden hair but has green eyes like his father. And Narfi has raven black hair but blue eyes like Grandma Frigga. Loki loved his children more than anything or anyone in the whole nine realms. There wasn't anything he couldn't do for them. Sigyn and Loki, togather became very good parents.

In all those years, the Palace has transformed. The old walls that was full of moulds were furnished, the big hall changed it's decorations, some very old servants, Sigyn knew of had died. Odin and Frigga were old too, but one couldn't tell it by looking at Frigga's face, because women never age.

Odin has always wanted his throne to be taken by his son. But Thor is not interested in running a realm. He was an explorer himself, he liked to explore the other realms and find new places. Everytime Thor was running off to the biforst, he was like the most happiest person ever. And when he came back, he had so many stories to tell his nephews. Vali and Narfi always claimed that Uncle Thor is the best storyteller, better than mother. That was once when Thor went to a new realm called Midguard and he never went anywhere else. Now whenever Sigyn found him running to the bifrost, she would ask "Thor, where are you going this time?" and he cheerfully replied, "Off to Midguard."

So one day after his return, and on instructions of the Queen, she forced the reason of his frequent visits to Midguard out of him. It was a women, Jane Foster was her name. Thor was in love with her, and from his account she found out that she was in love with him too. So she asked him why he never brought her here and he told her that Jane was a mortal. And that was the answer to every question. They were Gods, they were going to live for thousands of years before they die. But mortals, they just live a few and when this woman will die, Thor will have a lot of life left for him to live alone and that will be painful.

Luckily that wasn't for Loki. Sigyn too was a Goddess. She will live as along as Loki will and he won't have to have a life without her. She can't think of what will happen to him if she won't be around. Loki seems strong, but he is very emotional. He never accepts, but he can't live without the people he loves. Frigga, Thor, Sigyn and his children are everything to him.

Sigyn assured Thor not to worry and live his life to the most as long as he can be with the person he loves and also to bring Jane to Asgard. She should see the big Palace of the Prince she is dating.

continue...........

The Rising Sun: Ch 6. Like Father, Like Son

"Hrm... Awena? No... Calian? Eh... what about Cheveyo? No? Not that one either?" Asakonigei was having a conversation with the unborn child in her belly. She kept waiting for the child to kick at the sound of a chosen name. Thus far, not much luck. "Your father said Chanteyukan was too long and complex, yet that was my great-grandfather's name. Hrm... what to name you, my little one?"

Malik walked into his chambers, startled by how earthly his wife suddenly felt. Metallic. Her magic was a new buzz in his ear that he'd have to learn to properly attune to. "What's this I hear about Donoma and Revan upsetting you?"

Asakonigei looked up from her list of possible names. "They're both being brats, that's what." Asakonigei sounded irritated. "Revan thinks Donoma is your favorite child, Donoma thinks Revan is too full of himself because of that tournament, Revan is sore because we didn't come to the tournament and he doesn't feel 'Gerudo' enough to be here, Donoma told Revan to stop following Luimaya around like a lovesick puppy because it's never going to happen, and Revan thinks I'm mental because I want to have this baby even though it may possibly kill me." She then took a breath. "And... I think that summarizes it."

"He thinks I undervalue him?" That was what hurt Malik the most to hear.

"Either that, or he's just upset that Donoma was brought along to your 'golden city' and he was not." Asakonigei ran a hand down her face. "He's just being moody, I swear..."

"No... no I suppose there is truth to that. I'll have a sit down with him later."

"Well, perhaps some of the fault is mine." Asakonigei sighed as she set aside her paper list. "We haven't been at home in months. I feel like I sort of left him there by himself. And good spirits, when we get back, there will be a load of things to catch up on. I miss being able to work in my forge, I miss our house, I miss Nubi'ahlus, my uncles, my cousins, our friends there... heh, I even miss that little pastry shop you and I frequent to get some cinnamon rolls." She smiled. "It's still there after all these years. Remember when we'd take Revan and Donoma there when they were little? Revan was always eating his so fast and Donoma would savor hers... and when Revan would try to steal some of hers, we'd have to each hold one." She chuckled. "Good memories."

Malik stood tall, grasping the bed railing with both hands tightly. "I'm not coming back to Hyrule."

"...?!" Asakonigei's expression said it all for him. "... what?!"

"I'm not going back to Hyrule. I'm going to stay here. This is my home Asa."

"And you just decided this? Without talking to me?!" Asakonigei was absolutely furious. She managed to swing her legs to the side of the bed and slowly stand. "Without even asking how I'd feel about this?!"

"I've built it up to you, haven't I? Steadily letting you know my responsibilities lie here. This is a choice I'm cementing now.”

"You never said this would be a permanent home, Malik. You said you were rebuilding Taiyo Town for your people." Asakonigei stated, not budging. "You never said anything about uprooting our life in Hyrule. My business is there, my relatives, our friends, our queen for crying out loud! Your best friend!"

"My spirit is here. I feel alive here. Aren't we old enough to stay here? You can retire, raise our child here with all the women able to support you. I can support you with my supervision focused here and not all of Hyrule." Malik remained calm, wanting to be as diplomatic as he could. "Nubi'ahlus can live in the desert nearby, and after you have this child, how dedicated can you be to your business regardless?"

"That's not the point, the point is you just assumed! You didn't even ask me!" Asakonigei was still angry. "A husband and wife talk through these things together and they---...!!!!!!" The Kovina stared at Malik's hand. Very intensely. "What. Is. That?"

Malik looked down, his hand glowing lightly at the front most triangle. "This? This is the Triforce of Power."

"... and why do you have it?" Asakonigei had a feeling that she really was not going to like the answer.

"Ganondorf entrusted it to me." Malik spoke softly, his hand tightening and loosing with a grip.

"... you're going to rule here, aren't you?" Asakonigei asked point blank.

"I'm going to be a king, yes. I'm going to use this godly power as a source of hope, inspiration and protection for Taiyo Town."

Asakonigei's anger was suddenly replaced with sadness. She looked... really hurt. Waddling over to the chair, she slowly sat down, one hand on her belly. "... I need to think for a little while."

"I understand." Malik sat beside her, his voice matching his sadness. He knew there was a good chance he might lose her, yet his heart was set steady in the sands. "I lived hundreds of years waiting for this moment again since I was a child. To live among Gerudo who could feel safe and welcome in the world. I want to give that to them, to provide that safety. I want the chance to live my dream."

"Your dream didn't include me then." Asakonigei motioned to the tent flaps. "It didn't include our kids, our friends, our family, other responsibilities... I just... I can't right now, Malik." The Kovina put a hand over her face.

"Our children are grown adults, our responsibilities can be taken care of here, and our family and friends can visit us. I-" Malik stopped, realizing his wife wanted time to conclude her thoughts on her own. "I'm going to talk with Donoma and Revan."

"... you do that." Asakonigei replied quietly. ~ Donoma was in the middle of trying her best to Tebanam's camel, Loogie, to behave. He kept trying to make his way over to the females and was protesting every time Donoma cut him off. With a frustrated groan, the young girl firmly shook her finger at the animal. "Listen, the ladies are nice and all, but you have to stay over here. Is that clear?"

"Would a sand seal be a better mount for you in the future?" Her father asked from behind, catching her off guard. "Even the males listen to commands well."

Donoma was a little too comfortable in Taiyo Town and had let her guard drop. She jumped slightly and then gestured to the camel. "I think I rather have one of those sand rays that Skyla has waiting for her in the Garai outskirts. Now that... is some serious transportation."

"There are many interesting creatures that could reside in our desert home, eh?" He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm not mad, but I want to talk to you and your brother."

"Yes, there are plenty. I'm almost envious of Skyla seemingly being able to communicate with them in her own special way." Donoma's shoulder slumped. "I'll apologize for snapping in front of Mom but I'm not going to apologize for stating the truth. Revan was acting stupid in that tournament and really could have gotten hurt just to impress Luimaya."

"Was it really her he wanted to impress though." Malik tilted his head, wanting his daughter to think.

"Yeah. I think it was. I mean, Dad, you've got to be blind if you haven't seen how he looks at her." Donoma held Loogie's snout and blinked her eyelashes, mimicking her brother. "You're so awesome, your mom and my dad are best friends, let's get married and make powerful babies."

"I know who he likes. Trust me. It's not Luimaya he has eyes of love for." He patted her lightly on the back for assurance.

"If that's true, then why does he still follow her?" Donoma asked, simply using logic. "He didn't even respect her wishes. Personally, I'd kick his ass, but Luimaya has more of rep to uphold than me."

“The future Queen is stubborn. Like it or not, she needs protection. It’s easier to follow a career then go after the heart for a Gerudo man.”

"Luimaya is stubborn, but she doesn't want to see Revan get hurt." Donoma had a slight frown on her face. "I don't want to see my brother get hurt."

"It's the nature of the world we live in my daughter. Danger can try to take us down at any moment. We have to be ready for it. You have to believe your brother is."

"I believe my brother is. That's the problem, Dad." Donoma looked at her father. "I know Revan is a great fighter, but when he's focused on someone else, protecting someone else, he gets sloppy sometimes. That's what I'm worried about. I love Lui like a sister, but... to me, she's hotter than Vatra's own fire. There's something..." The young Gerudo woman sighed in frustration and gave a small shudder. The children did not know of the prophecy, but the parents did. There was something that was being hidden from them. "There's just something off about her power. I know it, Revan knows it, hell, even her cousins and siblings have admitted it. She's strong. Incredibly strong. Stronger than her Mother, and Queen Zarazu is magic incarnate as the leader of the Lorleidians. I mean, is there something I'm missing here?"

"No. You're not." Malik gently rubbed the back of his daughter’s hair to calm her down. "I think Revan is afraid of becoming sloppy himself."

"... maybe I'm just becoming paranoid." Donoma felt out of place in this conversation. Like a piece of missing. "I feel foolish."

"Don't be. You are still young Donoma. In time you will find all the knowledge you seek, and fit every piece of the puzzle you so desire." It was if Malik plucked the wording from her inner thoughts and applied it to help ease her mind. "Have faith in yourself and others."

"... I understand." Donoma then had to ask her father, rather bluntly, but trying to be nice about it. "Have you talked to Mom about your plan to stay here?"

"I have. I'd love more than anything for you both to stay here by my side... but I know I can't force you to accept this as your residence if you choose not to."

"I wouldn't mind staying here some of the time, Dad, but... all my friends are back in Hyrule." Donoma did not want to hurt her father's feelings. "Taiyo Town is great. I'm learning so much and it's absolutely beautiful, but I don't want to leave behind all the people I care about just yet. And Revan's going to be in Hyrule too, and you know if I leave him by himself for too long, he's going to do something stupid."

"I understand. I love you my sunshine." Malik knelt to hug his daughter close.

"I love you too, Dad." Donoma hugged her father tightly. "Just... just go easy on Mom too, okay? I know that you really want her here but..." She gently suggested. "Maybe work out a deal with her like Zizi and Kahli do? Summer months in Hyrule, winter months in Taiyo Town? Just a suggestion. She doesn't want to leave with our great-uncles so old now."

"If that's what it takes..." Malik rose up, taking in the desert air. "Do you know where your brother is?"

"If I had to guess, he's sneakily following around Luimaya while she's trying to avoid him."

"Can't be hard to track him down." As Malik made his way through the town, he found his son. But at a place he wasn't expecting. Revan was at one of the bars, taking a drink of raspberry margarita. He seemed stiff as he washed down the drink. "Son?"

Revan turned to look at his dad, a look of surprise, then slight humour. "Oh. Hey there King Dad. How's the kingdom going?"

"I see it didn't take you long to find a bar. Your sister thought you'd be quietly stalking Luimaya."

Revan snickered at that statement. "The princess is safer than ever, and she's more than happy among her cousins she hasn't seen in eons and all the giggly cacophony of Gerudo around here."

Malik sat down beside his son, noticing this was his second drink. "A cacophony eh? I take it you aren't enjoying yourself?"

"If I get one more brat telling me where I can penetrate my sword, I'm gonna lose my mind. And who says I'm not enjoying myself? I'm away from the rest of you with the best drink I've ever had. Nice job finding decent margaritas dad."

"Why are you mad at me? At your mother?"

"Oh, hmmm, let's think about that. Could you be that you are power driven? That you care more about this backwater desert town rather then staying in Hyrule with your own family? Or maybe its the fact you never even asked me if I wanted to come here and learn about the other half of my cultural background. That can certainly piss off a child." Revan clenched his drink tightly, coming close to shattering it with a flex of his hand. "But I think the thing that makes me the angriest, more than that, more than Luimaya's family making fun of me, is that you knocked up mom again! That you convinced her to keep a baby that will most likely kill her!" Revan sneered at his dad, finishing his second drink in a quick gulp, purely out of bitterness. "You were right. Gerudo Men are cursed have those they most care about come into harm."

Malik was stunned by that. "When did I---!!!" A memory came back to him, nearly a decade ago. Malik's fears and stress on the job lead him to drink himself into a stupor one night. Revan training by himself in the backyard while Asakonigei and Donoma where out flying their dragons. Malik realized it was the eve of his and Cipher's death long, long ago. With alcohol and worry clouding his judgement, he left a warning to Revan that stuck with the boy for years.

'Revan. You can't slack off. You have to push yourself harder if you want to succeed in this world. The gods have it out for us Gerudo. And no Gerudo man has lived in this world without some form of suffering. Fate will hurt us in so many ways. And it can hurt the ones we love the most. Remember that.'

Watching his son drink himself into a bitter corner made Malik see himself clearly in the young man. "Son... I'm not going to let your mother die. And you can't be so hard on yourself. Damn fate or anything else from stopping you from being happy."

"So what? I should be like you and take what you want right? You certainly have the power for it now don't you." Revan coldly looked at the mark on his father's hand. "You might want to cover that up. But I imagine you're going to etch that symbol into every gauntlet and glove of yours now. I get it. Best to show off the goal you were working for."

"Revan..."

"Honestly dad, I am happy for you. Really. You worked who knows how long to achieve all this. Just... just don't succumb to that power and ego. I want to remember you as my dad... and not kill the monster Klinge." Revan got up, heading out to find a bed. "I'm going to go to bed early. Maybe I'll return for a family gathering in the morning. If Luimaya orders it."

Malik sat completely still, saddened to see his son so bitter and angry. Like father, like son. And he was seeing the uglier sides.

~

When Malik finally returned to the tent, Asakonigei was still upset with him. She was not angry about the fact of him wanting to stay in Taiyo Town, what upset her was he did not even ask her. Not being part of the decision really hurt her feelings. Though, the Kovina was smart enough to know that stress was not good for the baby. So, she was quietly trying to ready a few things that the baby would need. A diaper changing station, a basinet, a few loose clothes, and doing her absolute best to knit a blanket to starve off boredom, but miserably failing at knitting.

Yet, at the look on her husband's face, she knew something else was bothering him. So, she chose to let the issue of excluding her in the decision slide for now and asked what was wrong. Then came the story of what Revan had said to him. And there was nothing scarier on the planet than a pregnant woman in that moment. So, in the morning, Asakonigei managed to waddle to her son's tent with two of the biggest pots she could find. And promptly clanged them together with a loud... POW!!!

The gong had been banged, and Revan fell out of bed. His head was ringing, and not just from the pots. The margaritas had given him the biggest hangover in years. “What the hell?!”

"Now that you're awake, we're going to talk." Asakonigei set down the pots and plopped down on the now vacant mattress to rest.

“No. I’m going back to bed.” Revan did his best to crawl back into bed.

"Do you want me to clang the pots again? Cause I will keep at it with a snap of my fingers until you suck it up and talk."

“Talk then.”

"First off, you're going to tell me what in the world possessed you to think that your father prefers Donoma over you."

“He brought her here. That’s evidence enough.”

"And? This is a Gerudo community of women. Don't you think he did it for your sister's benefit?" Asakonigei then said. "He wanted her to meet other women like her, not because he prefers her over you. He's never thought that."

"What about the fact I wanted to learn about Gerudo culture. He didn't take me because a Gerudo man is cursed by being born."

"That's not the reason he didn't take you, Revan. He didn't take you because you had other events occurring." Asakonigei explained to her son. "Gerudo men are not cursed. Look at King Covarog, Prince Ralnor, and Tebanam. And eve your friends, Turagor, Zahirog, Kerugan, Kuredor... all of them have Gerudo in their veins."

“Give them time. That’s what dad said....” Revan sounded so defeated, pulling a blanket closer over him. “Covarog watched his kingdom been torn apart. Tebanam had his heart broken. Uncle Ralnor has the darkness Klinge and Ganondorf held. Give it time. We hurt those we care about the most, or others...”

"Covarog did have to watch Vul'kar destroy Hyrule. But you know what happened after that?" Asakonigei asked her son, a lightness in her voice. "He rebuilt it with the help of his loved ones. Tebanam did have his heart broken. Then he found true love with Faris, and now even has a lovely little daughter, Skyla. Ralnor may have this darkness your father speaks of. However, he has kept his family and friends safe... and even he is happy with Cass and his three beautiful girls. For each part of strife in their lives... they've had a bigger spark of light."

"And father? Does him having the Triforce of Power not speak an omen to come?"

"Ganondorf trusts him. Queen Zarazu trusts him. And... I noticed markings of her magic upon his wrist." Asakonigei admitted to her son. "I do believe our queen has bound him to his word that he will use the Tri-Force for good. She is the wise one, after all."

Revan paused, unsure how to proceed with that. "I don't want dad to become Klinge again... I don't want to be Klinge."

"He won't be. You won't be. You promised to protect Luimaya, did you not?" Asakonigei shifted on the bed, pulling her son's head onto her lap. She carefully stroked his hair. "She's your good friend and I know you care about her a great deal. She is going to succeed King Covarog and Queen Zarazu one day. It may not seem like it now, but Luimaya is very important for Hyrule, for international relationships... she is not only Hylian, not only Gerudo, but Lorleidian as well. Our nation is getting more diverse."

"It's not Luimaya I'm worried about. She doesn't even need a bodyguard. I don't want to Nakeso getting killed because of me. Luimaya is fine on her own."

"... then why did you take the job to protect Luimaya if you're worried for Nakeso?" Asakonigei asked her boy. "What makes you think she will be in danger because of you?"

“Because fate is cruel. If I keep myself as far away from Nakeso without ruining our friendship, she can be safe.”

"What makes you so sure, Revan?"

Revan turned to his mom, a bitter look on his face. “Because it’s what happened to dad’s first wife. It’s what happens to everyone in this crazy extended family. They go through horrible trials, and those closest to them are hurt or killed.”

"What happened to Cipher was not your father's fault; it was a fight. She died due to a battle wound." Asakonigei assured her son. "Then he was reborn thanks to our queen's magic. You're here. Your sister's here. I'm still here." She questioned him then. "Life will always have trials, Revan. The only thing we can do is look forward to the future to try for a better tomorrow. If you want to view it as a curse, you may, but... I believe that if you talk to Nakeso, tell her your fears and how you truly feel... she'll want to stand beside you no matter what. Just like I have for your father."

"She died because the Zelda of that era stabbed her sword through her skull."

"And do you think Cipher faults your father for that?"

"She's dead. You think I want to live with that guilt like dad did? Hell no."

"If you're so worried about Nakeso being with you, then why don't you consult the goddesses for an answer?"

“What? Kovani? She wouldn’t listen.” Revan rose, taking a deep sigh. “And the Hylian gods aren’t exactly... fair.”

"The Golden Goddesses are never fair according to your father." Asakonigei gave a small snort. "It wouldn't hurt to ask Kovina. She's not as bad as Vatra."

"I doubt she can control fate." Her son sighed as he ran a hand down his face. "Anything else you want to talk about? I'm going to get water and take care of this hangover."

"Yes, I do. You need to apologize to your father and your sister." Asakonigei was not going to take no for an answer. "And you need to talk to Nakeso."

“I’ll think about it.”

"You'll do it." Asakonigei held up the pots. "Or do I have to clang these again?"

"Fine. God you are stubborn."

"You didn't get all your stubborn genes from your father, you know. Some of them, you got from me." Asakonigei kissed Revan's forehead and then hefted herself to her feet. "I'm going to walk back to my tent now. If your father finds out that I've snuck out, he'll raise hell again."

"Ah let him." Revan watched her walk off and sighed. "Better find my sister to start..."

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/622677305470402560/the-rising-sun-ch-5-power-exchanged

Final Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/622856589528989696/the-rising-sun-ch-7-hail-the-king

Crossover with my friend @ridersoftheapocalypse. Go read her solo work as well as mine! Comments always appreciated. 

The Antisocial Spirit

It all began with a prayer; a simple prayer of love, joy, and devotion, and one of deep concern and pity. It was made on Christmas Eve by a young man named Fred as he knelt at his bedside. “Gracious Heavenly Father, please help Uncle Scrooge learn to understand the joy of Christmas. He's so bitter and solitary, and it must be ever so lonely all on his own, especially at Christmas. Give him a new reason to love this most joyous season.” This prayer was uplifted in the most contriteness of heart and sincerity of spirit; and no sooner had it left his lips than it was received into the heavens among a great swarm of prayers of holiday spirit which rose up in a cloud of Christmas love and goodness. This particular prayer, borne up in the draft among the rest, fell upon two very important pairs of ears. The first were the ears of a miserable spirit called Jacob Marley, who had been sentenced to wander the earth for a set number of years because of his uncharitable character while living. The other were the ears of one Benael, who happened to be the administrator of the numerous spirits of that jurisdiction. Upon hearing this prayer, Marley’s ghost immediately set out for Benael’s office, while Benael immediately sent for his secretary, Joseph. “Joseph! Sound your horn and bring me up those special Spirits of mine; the ones who are so fond of roaming the earth during the Christmas season. It’s extremely important!” With a nod, Secretary Joseph raised his horn and let out three short, clear blasts. With each of those three blasts, a Lesser Spirit was summoned into the presence of Benael. These particular three were the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future. It was their primary job to instill in all observers of Christmas the love and understanding of Christmas, and to help teach those who did not observe Christmas a better understanding of what it truly meant. Just as they had all appeared in the presence of Benael, Marley’s ghost reached the door of his office and began pounding at it with all his might. Benael smiled, signaling for Joseph to open the door. “I thought you would be along presently, Jacob,” he said as Marley pulled himself into the room, dragging his chain of earthly riches after him. “I shall hear your request first: What do you wish?” Marley threw himself on his knees. “Merciful benefactor, have pity on me! My time on the earth is yet long, as I have not completed the age of wandering I have been set. In life, I had but one associate whom I considered a friend: Ebenezer Scrooge, my business partner and the only close kinship I ever retained in my years. Indeed, I may be the only person who ever drew so near to his own heart, so callous and uncouth he kept himself to all, and keeps himself still. This night I chanced to hear the words spoken by his nephew, beseeching the Heavenly Father to grant unto my friend (for he is the closest to a friend as I have) the knowledge and wisdom and joy imparted by the true spirit of Christmas. Grant me one request: that I also may be sent to him, to warn him of the error of his ways, lest he be doomed to become one such as myself; for already he is treading the path leading to this same fate! I beg of you this one request, to spare him from the condemnation I suffer!” He rattled his chain to carry his point. Benael laid a comforting hand on Marley’s arm. “This request I shall grant you, and also I send you with this message: that these three Spirits shall also visit your friend Scrooge and impart their messages to him.” He waved to Secretary Joseph, who jotted these instructions down on a piece of paper, then rolled the paper into a ball and squeezed it up in his fist. When he opened his hand again, the paper had become like a live coal. Obediently, Marley untied the bandage about his head (it had been put on his body when he was buried to keep the jaw shut during his funeral) and let his mouth open as wide as it would go. Secretary Joseph brought him the coal and put it carefully into Marley’s mouth, and Marley swallowed it, then rewound the bandage about his head. “I thank you, kind master,” he said, putting his forehead to the floor. “While I am bound to no place of rest, I shall bring your word whither you will, as you will.” “I do,” said Benael, smiling again and helping Marley to his feet. “Go now to your friend. After you I shall send these three Spirits, one after another. Warn him of their coming, for I shall send no more after!” With another bow, Marley picked up his chain and made his way back out into the earth. The three Ghosts of Christmas watched this exchange with great interest, and the first two began nudging each other. “I wonder what this Scrooge will be like?” the Ghost of Christmas Present whispered, glowing brightly in its excitement. “Probably like all the rest,” remarked the Ghost of Christmas Future, checking the clock on the wall. “We’ve had enough of them that they blur together.” “I remember all of them,” said the Ghost of Christmas Past proudly. “Each one makes a different impression.” “You would,” the Future Ghost muttered, rolling its eyes. “I hope this one will be successful,” sighed the Present Ghost wistfully. “We’ve had such a downturn lately, especially since industry has picked up.” “Don’t get your hopes up.” The Future Ghost again eyed the clock. “I sense fewer to come, even as low as it’s been.” Once Marley was gone, Benael turned to the three Ghosts. “All right, my little ones; do you each remember your part?” The first two nodded eagerly, while the Future Ghost stifled a yawn. Benael reached into a drawer and pulled out a candle that had burned down some ways. “This is the Past of Ebenezer Scrooge,” he said, handing it to Christmas Past. “Bring it to him for his rumination.” With a bow, the Past Ghost departed. To the Present Ghost, Benael said, “Go about your task and take this Scrooge with you and show him what you do. Answer all that he asks you and explain your purpose to him.” The Present Ghost nodded and was gone. Noting that it was alone at last, the Future Ghost idly fidgeted with the edge of its robe as Benael opened another drawer and drew out a long, grey thread that flickered and wavered, as if unsure of its own existence. “This is the Possible Future of the Old Scrooge,” he told it, putting the thread into its hand. “It will show him what will happen if he does not mend his ways before his mortal end.” The Ghost took the thread, stowing it carefully in its pocket, then hesitated. “I ask your pardon, sir, but… do I have to talk to him?” This was the first time it had ever asked this question; for the most part, it simply refused speaking to mortals in general. Truth be told, this Ghost was not really connected with Christmas at all; as a matter of fact, the most fitting instrument at its disposal might be said to be the wisdom and fear of death and the uncertainty of the future. There are many Spirits of this nature, and Death itself is their kin and often rides close behind them; but this particular one tried to have little to do with mortals. One of its favorite past-time amusements was focused on seeing how far it could send gusts of snowy wind to get them to blow up the skirts and coats of senile aristocrats. But Benael was greatly pleased at its asking, and patted its head as one would a small child. “You like not dealing with mortals?” he laughed lovingly. “It ill suits you?” “I’ll do whatever you ask me to, sir,” said the Spirit submissively. “But, to be frank, sir, I find them… tiresome.” It substituted this instead of “irritating” or “annoying.” Benael understood its meaning anyway. “Indeed?” he chuckled again. “Hold your peace, if so you wish it; but I feel this endeavor may do both you and he great good.” The Spirit bowed humbly, a sinking feeling in the pit of its stomach. “I accept all improvements for the glory of the Creator.” With another chuckle, Benael kissed its forehead, then sent it on its way. The Spirit descended from the heavenlies with a sigh, rather annoyed at its new task. Like the other two, it was still rather young and had a bit of growing to do before it could ascend into the Great Heavens; but growing does not always come easily, even for Spirits. For those who serve the Master of All Things, defiance of command does not enter consciousness, or even the realm of possibility; for no Spirit who truly serves the Master can (nor desires to) defy His word, regardless of whether they are still green enough to feel reluctance to do so for any discomfort or anxieties by it. Finding the moment it had been appointed, the Spirit hovered outside the world of Earth and debated what form it ought to take when it appeared before this Scrooge. Its usual form often consisted of a shrouding mist, for that was so frequently mistaken for fog that it was often passed by unnoticed and left alone. But the task at hand was to be made visibly known; to let Scrooge see him clearly and distinctly. For that, it would need something of a more earthly substantiality. It didn’t quite like the idea of having to look Scrooge full in the eye, so it settled for a simple shroud that covered it from head to foot; to mortal eyes, this would appear as nothing more than a figure in mantle and hood. This should give enough of an appearance familiar enough to grasp as stately; for making a good impression was a factor of importance on this occasion, else Benael would not have sent it. Having prepared itself, it stepped through the boundaries of Earth and Heaven and into the appointed moment of Time. Immersing itself in the mortal world was a bit of a confusing affair, for all the senses of noise and color became drastically more intense, and its head swam a little before it got its bearings. It now stood in a place where the ground was covered with snow and cold, and before it stood a man garbed as one having just taken to sleep; or, rather, having meant to take to sleep, for there was no trace of sleep about him otherwise. His face was wrinkled with age, but his starting eyes shone with wonder and fear of the things he had seen; even in the declining flesh could still be seen the wisdom and majesty of the Creator. Out of reflex, the Spirit contracted the midnight darkness into itself and, with slow caution, proceeded towards Scrooge. When it reached him, Scrooge dropped to his knees, trembling. Without waiting for a response, the Spirit took the thread it had been given and tossed it into the air, where it stretched taught and opened into a Window of Possibility, though invisible to Scrooge. The Spirit pointed in that direction, waiting for Scrooge to understand. Scrooge didn’t move; clearly, he had expected some verbal response, for he said with quivering voice, “I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?” Pinching its lips together, the Spirit stubbornly pointed at the Window, hoping to speed the process along. Waiting for the mortal to catch on to the business was usually the slowest part of its role; most were compliant enough, as fear was a decent motivator, and few questioned its refusal to speak. Most mortals it had administered to were also somewhat more composed; this Scrooge fellow seemed already significantly shaken. Perhaps it was because the general belief in its kind had dwindled somewhat in this corner of the earth. “You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened, but will happen in the time before us,” Scrooge pressed more earnestly. “Is that so, Spirit?” Fighting its rising impatience, the Spirit gave a nod to signify its affirmation, then pointed onward with its visible hand. The poor man was trembling so much that at first he could not stand; indeed, he almost fell with the effort. The Spirit wavered uncomfortably, wondering if it ought to help, but before it had to decide Scrooge was on his feet. “Ghost of the Future!” he cried. “I fear you more than any Spectre I have seen. But as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a thankful heart.” He glanced up, peering under the hood, as if searching for a recognizable face. “Will you not speak to me?” The Spirit stubbornly clenched its jaw; it had been given permission not to speak, and would hold to it until it was ready to do so. This could be improved upon, but at its desired pace, as its Master would allow. Still it pointed mutely to the Window of Possibility. At last, Scrooge relented and followed its gesture, gasping, “Lead on! Lead on! The night is waning fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit!” As Scrooge drew near, the Spirit moved through the Window, not taking the man’s hand directly, but allowing him to ride the mist of the train of its cloak. Thus they entered the Possible Future, where the Spirit directed his attention to various points marked of importance. Like all Possibilities, this Possible Future of the Old Scrooge contained much that would come to pass if left to itself; for these Possibilities to be averted, the mortal it concerned must choose themselves to change and, depending on the mortal’s own nature, make a spoken confession to do so. This was part of the reason the Spirit kept its mouth shut for its part of the journey; the part of self discovery must be made by the human alone. Upon certain occasions, if this could not be achieved, Death was the final Spirit to arrive. It must be said that, in many instances, this Spirit was often mistaken for Death, mainly due to its usual forms of preference. This rather annoyed the Spirit, for Death was very unlike itself, being considerably older, for one. The Spirit knew no fear of Death, for death must come to all flesh, and it itself, as a Spirit, was beyond its reach. Death, in the mortal world, held a mystery to all that frightened most and was alluring to some. For the Spirits, Death held two meanings, only one of which was really to be feared, and then only if there had been a serious offence against the Creator Himself; the death of the flesh was simply a crossing over from one world to the next. Scrooge, however, being mortal himself, knew none of this, and so could only try to guess at the meaning of all the Spirit drew his attention to. As they flitted through various images, the Spirit began to study this Ebenezer. There was nothing remarkable of him, as far as mortals go; nothing significant in his appearance or way of standing. He did carry about himself a certain air that marked him as changed; as a man who has been through quite an ordeal or many ordeals in a short space of his time; but that also was nothing to be considered out of the ordinary. The Spirit was impartial on all of these points, its only concern being to direct his gaze to what he was meant to observe. It did, however, note how Scrooge seemed to be looking for something or someone, for his eye roved through all as if in search of a particular detail he could not find; probably for his own future self, not realizing that this was a Possible Future in which he had recently died. Turning his head, Scrooge noted its gaze on him and shivered. Trying to quicken the pace of their journey, the Spirit brought him forward to a little shop where a few other mortals had stripped some of the dead Scrooge’s earthly items and pawned them off for things of earthly value. The Spirit could little understand what humans saw in the scraps of stuff they called “money”; it was so temporary and irrelevant that it saw nothing that could possibly draw their interest so heavily, save that it might carry some sort of appeal to the eye. Clearly, though, these people thought there was something in it; even Scrooge gazed with horrified disgust at their glee, obviously carrying some attachment to material items himself. Still, however, he did not yet recognize that this was his own Possible Future, for he said, “Spirit! I see, I see. The case of this unhappy man might be my own. My life tends that way, now.” Caving at last to its gnawing impatience, the Spirit abruptly transported the man to the room where the dead Scrooge lay, covered beneath a thin sheet. Startled, Scrooge stumbled back from the bed, crying, “Merciful Heaven, what is this!” In answer, the Spirit pointed to the head, meaning for him to uncover it and view his own dead face, eagerly awaiting the moment the man would hurry up and grasp the point. But still he stood, shaking and pale, his eyes wide and alight with the inner aura of a frantically working mind. The Spirit did not quite understand what was so dreadful about the scene to him; was it not only an empty shell, after all, now a material thing and nothing more? It had once encased a mortal soul, but no longer did; the soul had departed, leaving nothing but the perishable dust from which it was made. This mortal fear of the Earthly Death was foreign to the Spirit, yet a very real thing for Scrooge; he could not bring himself to look upon the body at all, but hid his eyes in terror. “Spirit!” he gasped out at last, “this is a fearful place. In leaving it, I shall not leave its lesson, trust me. Let us go!” This continual insistence on missing the point was no less irritating than it had been before. The Spirit kept its hand out, pointing to the head of the figure. When would the man start paying attention and really look? Scrooge drew back, putting his hands over his face. “I understand you,” he said, almost in a sob, “and I would do it, if I could. But I have not the power, Spirit. I have not the power.” This statement was surprisingly profound, bringing the Spirit to stare long and hard at him. It had not occurred to it till then that Scrooge may not have been the only one who ought to pay better attention; “really looking,” indeed! The sudden understanding of the weight of fear on this man’s heart came almost as a shock at its own shortsightedness; for it too was not yet wholly liberated from the unpleasant sensation. Fear was no evil thing, to be sure; dread was something else entirely. As it contemplated, Scrooge spoke again in urgent distress. “If there is any person in the town, who feels emotion caused by this man’s death, show that person to me, Spirit, I beseech you!” Stifling a sigh, the Spirit waved its arm and brought them to the next scene, where a family who had been in debt to Scrooge were now suddenly relieved at his death. As Scrooge watched them, his expression betrayed his rising anxiety for the dead man he still failed to grasp may yet be himself. The Spirit wondered how long this process was meant to take, and how long it would take Scrooge to decipher the message he was meant to find. This Possible Future did not necessarily predict the point of the man’s death; in fact, that Scrooge might live was highly likely, unless the shock from the whole affair was strong enough to kill him, which seemed unlikely, in spite of his age. Regardless of their choice, most mortals outlived the whole ordeal by many years, save for the special few whom Death pursued. The Spirit wondered vaguely whether Scrooge was such a mortal; if he were, then Death would be near at hand. While it did not fear Death, the Spirit had no wish to be present if that happened. Again Scrooge turned to the Spirit, near desperation. “Let me see some tenderness connected with a death, or that dark chamber, Spirit, which we left just now, will be for ever present to me.” The Spirit’s jaw clenched at the quiver in the man’s voice, focusing all its attention on bringing them to the new scene. This happened to be the home of Bob Cratchit, whom the Old Scrooge was renowned for mistreating with a meager salary. As a poor man with a sick child, the conditions which the little Cratchit family lived in could only dwindle until at last, inevitably, one must pay the price in full. This was also one of the last scenes in the thread before its end; all about them now, shadows began to flicker and waver. Scrooge noted this too, for he huddled closer to the Spirit’s side (at which it unconsciously shied away). “Spectre, something informs me that our parting moment is at hand. I know it, but I know not how.” Looking up under the Spirit’s hood, trying to find a face to gaze into, he asked, “Tell me what man that was whom we saw lying dead?” Finally, the man was on the right trail at last! The Spirit quickly conveyed him to the court by the old churchyard, where lay the dead. The Spirit pointed to the gate of the graveyard, but Scrooge tarried, walking back towards a nearby building. “This court, through which we hurry now, is where my place of occupation is,” he explained hurriedly, “and has been for a length of time. I see the house. Let me behold what I shall be, in days to come.” If he wanted to do that, he had better follow; the Spirit kept its finger pointing to the graveyard. Scrooge was clearly puzzled. “The house is yonder,” he said, pointing to it. “Why do you point away?” He went on to the window and looked in, but, of course, saw not himself. As the Spirit had not moved, he rejoined it and followed it into the graveyard. The Spirit went directly to the grave it wanted and pointed directly to it, ready for the moment of clarity it had been waiting for. Scrooge approached, his whole figure shaking; it seemed that, at last, he had grasped the Spirit’s meaning, for he went very slowly and with many trembling pauses. Halfway there he stopped and faced the Spirit once again; his face had gone white and his eyes were round and glistening. “Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point, answer me one question. Are these the shadows of things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that May be, only?” The Spirit stiffened, its stomach churning with something it did not quite know the name of, and yet that it knew very well; if it had had a physical form, it would have called it “nausea.” It did not like to look at Scrooge while he was like this; shivering and pale and broken. It swallowed hard, trying to remain completely immobile as it fought to avoid ending this journey with what, in the physical realm, would qualify as throwing up. “Men’s courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead,” Scrooge persisted, tears now flowing freely down his face. “But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me!” The Spirit locked its body to keep its visible hand steady. It knew the desperate pleading and begging for mercy well; most mortals did it when confronted with Death, or what they thought was Death; but this man was unnerving in a way no mortal had been before. This must assuredly have been what Benael had meant by this doing both of them good; now it was fighting its own battle. Blinded by tears, Scrooge fumbled towards the headstone and read the name upon it: EBENEZER SCROOGE. “Am I that man who lay upon the bed?” He collapsed to his knees and began sobbing in earnest. “No, Spirit! Oh, no, no!” The Spirit fought down a wave of something like panic; it pitied the poor man, of course, but the sudden urgency to be gone rose up strong enough nearly to suffocate it. Scrooge turned, desperately clutching at the Spirit’s cloak. “Spirit, hear me! I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been but for this intercourse. Why show me this, if I am past all hope?” And there it was; Scrooge had at last arrived at the Turning Point! The Spirit waited to be released from its duty, but there appeared no change. They had completed the journey, had they not? Where was Benael? Would he not give it permission to return to the Heavens? Was there still something yet to be done? Unable to contain the stress any longer, the Spirit’s outstretched hand began quivering. Scrooge noted its repose breaking and clung to it more fiercely. “Good Spirit,” he cried. “Your nature intercedes for me, and pities me. Assure me that I may yet change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life!” The Spirit tried to clench its hand to stop it from shaking so violently, but it had almost left its control; where was Benael!? Then, just as the Spirit had been dreading, Scrooge grabbed its hand, pulling it towards him. “I will honour Christmas in my heart,” he sobbed in anguish, “and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!” Instinctively the Spirit jerked its hand away, trying to free itself, but Scrooge clutched at it even harder; his grip was burning hot with raw emotion, passion searing through it. They fought like this, pulling back and forth, for only a little time; but all through its duration, the Spirit felt all the frenzy of the man’s entreaty surging through it like a wave of fire. It held out for as long as it could bear, silently beseeching release all the while. Finally, the Heavens opened, and it fled on the wings of the wind back to Benael’s office, panting and shaky. Benael laughed when it had returned, helping it up off the floor. “Well done, good and faithful servant! You are now the Older for it.” Still panting, the Spirit dusted itself off. “And what… was that meant to prove?” “You are still Growing,” Benael told it. “Growing takes time, but also experience. You must not disdain the world of flesh or its properties, for the Maker Himself became such for all. These journeys will help give you a better look at small things, just as they help these mortals see better the grand things.” The Spirit frowned, thinking this over. Its hand was still tingling from Scrooge’s touch, but it almost felt more real. “Perhaps it was for the best,” it acknowledged, looking at it on all sides. Feeling a mild curiosity, it asked, “And what will now happen to the man Scrooge?” “Whatever he so chooses,” Benael answered, smiling. “And now, little one, there is much more to be done! Go now whither you will, and with a stronger heart!” Gratefully, the Spirit bowed and returned to roam the Heavens, feeling that now it could accomplish any task it set its hand to. Above, it could sense a smile from the Creator looking upon His work; how fond He was of all His little Spirits!

Soldier On - Prologue

Title: Soldier On - Prologue

Word Count: 1906 words (oops)

Description: The first eight years of Elizabeth Carter’s life are filled with happy memories but despite the joy felt, Lizzie can’t help but regret the words she never got to say to her mother and the dread she feels directed towards her impending, world-shattering, life change.

Pairings: Avengers x Barnes!OFC, Bucky Barnes x daughter!OFC

Warnings: Mentions of violence, childbirth, unplanned pregnancy, labor complications, character deaths, Infinity War spoilers, Endgame spoilers, explicit language, and violence.

A/N: Hello all, Bella, here! This has been brewing in my head for a long, long time and I’m finally putting pen to paper and writing this shit! Let me know if you’d like to be on the tag list for this through an ask and I will certainly add you!! OH AND BY THE WAY: STEVE AND SHARON WERE NEVER A THING IN THIS. The series was inspired by the song Soldier On by The Temper Trap, however, the chapter was inspired by the song Words by Skylar Grey. Jenna Coleman is my play-by for Maggie Carter, and Elizabeth’s play-by is Summer Fontana as a child (from 4-11) and Danielle Rose Russell as a teenager (12 and on) And lastly, translations!

ангел = angel

моя сладкая детка = my sweet baby

Tag List: @papi-chulo-bucky​​ @viktordrago And open for more!

-

2009

“There we go, easy does it, darling!” Peggy encouraged, laughing as the contraction, the final contraction, ended. Eighty-eight years old to the day, and she was still alive and kicking, and she’d be damned if she’d miss this event of all the days and weeks. The birth of her great-grandchild. With one last, drawn-out scream, Maggie collapsed onto the bed behind her, chest heaving as Peggy’s face changed from that of happiness to one of concern. Sharon gently wiped her cousin’s face with a cool cloth, and Maggie tried to sit up.

Maggie Carter was in unbearable pain. From her first heartbreak to her horrendous torture in the hands of HYDRA, the crippling anxiety and fear possessing her at that very moment. The baby wasn’t crying. “W-What is it? W-Why isn’t she crying?” Maggie asked. Sharon gently forced her to lay back down and looked to her great-uncle. He looked just as concerned at the unresponsiveness of the newborn as everyone else was, and he shut off the video camera, placing it on the bedside table and hurrying to his wife’s aid. “Why isn’t she crying?” Maggie repeated, more firmly this time.

Peggy made quick work of the situation, opening the small infant’s mouth and clearing the airway, putting her mouth to the baby girl’s, gently blowing five quick breaths into her, and by doing so, into her lungs. She repeated it, before calling for the midwife on hand, who was about to take the baby when, like a miracle, a wet, pitchy wail sprung forth from the newborn’s lips.

A wave of relief passed over the room, and Peggy begrudgingly handed the newborn to the midwife looked back up to her granddaughter, who was struggling to sit up, “W-Where are you taking her?”

Maggie’s grandfather held her shoulders gently, but firmly, ensuring that she couldn’t go anywhere. “She needs to be taken to the NICU, sweetheart,” Peggy said softly.

Maggie dissolved into tears, gripping the arms of her grandpa, shaking her head, “I-Is she going to be okay? I-I-I- n-need to h-hold her,” She sobbed.

Steve smoothed back his granddaughter’s brown locks, plastered to her forehead with beads of sweat. He took the wet cloth from Sharon and wiped her forehead, “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, Maggie,” He said softly, kissing the top of her head, “She’s gonna be just fine. It’s in her blood. She’s a fighter, just like her mom.”

- 2010

This first year seemed to be a rollercoaster of firsts, and of course, it was, it wasn’t as though Maggie was impervious to the constraints of time, but she didn’t like how quickly Lizzie was growing. Maggie loved having a baby, but with Lizzie’s health problems the first few months were trying and terrifying, but, like Pops said, Lizzie was just fine. And, like always, he was right. After all, he was and his health conditions growing up were tenfold the severity of Lizzie’s.

Balancing a one-year-old and a stack of unopened plastic plates, Maggie made her way to the dinging doorbell with an exasperated sigh, “Just a minute!” She called, walking in from the kitchen and into the living room, making her way over to the front door. With one elbow and her rambunctious infant tugging on her hair, Maggie somehow managed to open the door. She grinned, dark circles under her eyes in preparation for today’s festivities. “Oh, Margaret, I swear,” Peggy exclaimed, shaking her head. She moved to take Elizabeth from Maggie, which Maggie allowed with a groan. Steve followed his wife, giving his granddaughter an apologetic look.

“Nan, I’m an adult, a mother even, I can manage myself quite we-” Peggy interrupted her.

“-You look exhausted, Maggie,” She stated. “I told you your granddad and I would help you set up. You’re working yourself into the ground.” Elizabeth squealed, clapping her hands, and Peggy laughed, kissing the infant’s forehead, “Yes, she is,” Peggy cooed, kissing Lizzie’s cheek three times before looking back at Maggie. “I just wish you’d let others help you, dear, that’s all.”

Steve chucked, “In all fairness, doll, you weren’t much different than Mags at your age.”

Maggie gave her grandmother a look, “Ha! See? It’s not my fault, it’s genetic,” She said with a triumphant smirk. “You have the video camera, Granddad?” Maggie asked him as he moved to take Liz from Peggy.

Elizabeth squealed once more, gently hitting Steve’s chest in the only way a baby could get away with, and Steve laughed, patting the infant’s back with one hand as he dug the camera out of his jacket pocket, “Always.” He stated.

“Maggie,” Peggy started, smiling brightly at Elizabeth, “Did I ever thank you for giving me the best birthday gift in the world?”

- 2011

“No, no, no! Elizabeth Margaret Carter, stop that this instant!” Maggie exclaimed firmly. The toddler paused momentarily to spare her mother a glance as Maggie stood from her place on the couch and made her way to the kitchen to stop her. Arms outstretched with her bowl of spaghettios, Elizabeth looked from her mother to the bowl in front of her, giggling as she threw it onto the ground with all her might.

“Elizabeth!”

- 2012

“Mommy?” The auburn-haired girl squeaked from the doorway.

Maggie sat up in her bed, lightning cracking from outside. It illuminated the dark room, revealing Elizabeth’s tear-stained face, “Oh, Liz, come here, darling.” She said softly, prompting Elizabeth to toddle forward. Maggie reached down and picked her up, placing her next to her on the bed. “What’s wrong, my love?”

“Th-The wightning.” She muttered, burying her face in the crook of her mother’s neck.

“Oh, my sweet love, it’s alright,” Maggie soothed, rubbing Liz’s back as she rocked her back and forth. “You can sleep with me tonight,” She stated, pulling back the covers, “Go on then,” Maggie kissed Lizzie’s forehead, “Wriggle down in there. Nothing’s gonna hurt you while Mummy’s here.”

- 2013

Ordinary days were few and far between for the Carter girls. They’d go visit Maggie’s grandmother and Lizzie’s great-grandmother, Peggy, in her home, where her Alzheimers seemed to worsen with every week that passed, however, today hadn’t been one of those days. Nan had been fine and happy, visiting with her great-granddaughter, and now, tired out, Elizabeth was laid down for her routine nap, sucking her thumb as she clutched her blanket to her face. Maggie sighed and smiled contently, cracking the door to her daughter’s bedroom door before swiftly exiting. And that’s when the knock sounded at the door, sending a chill down Margaret’s spine.

She grabbed the pistol from her purse, a million thoughts surging through her head. They moved for this reason, every year without fail. So they couldn’t be followed or found by HYDRA. Maggie had narrowly escape the Winter Soldier’s fate herself, and from their dalliance and his aid in her escape, she’d begot Elizabeth. Her sweet, sweet Elizabeth. Maggie cracked the front door open slightly, peeking out and resting her eyes on a slim redhead, “May I help you?” Maggie asked sharply, gun at the ready behind the door. She looked familiar, and of course, she would as the redhead’s face frequented the news, but Maggie wasn’t taking any chances.

“Agent Margaret A. Carter? My name is Natasha Romanoff. Can I come in?”

- 2014

“Go on, ангел, it’s okay.” Natasha said with a sigh. Elizabeth rocked back and forth on her heels, clutching the straps of her little backpack as she looked up at her.

“But I’m scared, Aunt Tash. I don’t wanna.” She said softly. Natasha smiled softly, kneeling to Elizabeth’s height and encasing her in a hug.

“Listen, моя сладкая детка, I know you’re scared but you’ve gotta be a big girl for Aunt Tash, okay? I promised your mommy I’d get you safe and sound to school.” Natasha said softly.

“Mommy said that she was gonna be here,” Liz stated with a pout. Natasha smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead.

“I know, honey, but she’s gonna pick you up after school. This is exciting! It’s your first day, aren’t you excited too?” She asked brightly.

Elizabeth quickly shook her head, “Nuh-uh.”

Natasha sighed. She needed to pick Steve up, but with Maggie working the graveyard shift at the hospital she’d begged Nat to take Elizabeth to her first day of school. But she would be late picking Steve up, and he definitely didn’t need to know about Elizabeth or Maggie. “Okay, listen to me, squirt,” She looked around before whispering into Elizabeth’s ear. “Ten bucks if you’ll go inside.”

Elizabeth shook her head, crossing her arms, “Twenty. And ice cream after.”

Natasha kissed her head, standing back up, “You’ve got a deal, little miss.”

- Now

When did Maggie ever get her way? When she thought that 2017 was supposed to be a great year. Maggie couldn’t believe that Elizabeth was starting the third grade, and she was so excited about it, too. It broke Maggie’s heart that Elizabeth wanted her Aunt Tash to be there with her, but Maggie had to explain that it just wasn’t possible, not because of… well grown-up stuff (which is how Maggie explained it). Maggie refused to tell her anything other than the truth: that Natasha wouldn’t be coming back for a while.

They had a new apartment, a large apartment with three bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms in upstate New York, thanks to Nat’s friend Tony. He didn’t seem all too keen when he came to check on Maggie and Elizabeth, and Maggie didn’t know why that was and she certainly wasn’t about to ask, not even Granddad. She hadn’t spoken to Granddad in forever, not since Nan had passed per his requests. She sent him updates on herself and Lizzie on the regular, but something about the timeline was too delicate as it was. He needed to stay away, no matter how much he wanted to be there, and Margaret would adhere to his wishes and keep her mouth shut. After all, there was a reason she was Margaret Antonia Carter and not Rogers.

This was supposed to be the perfect year, but here she was, held at gunpoint by some agent as they waited for Elizabeth to get off the bus and trudge up to their apartment, happy as a clam. The lock jingled as Elizabeth undoubtedly unlocked the door. “Don’t make a sound or I’ll blow your brains out.” The agent hissed into Maggie’s ear. She knew her fate in that moment.

The door opened.

Elizabeth screamed, “Mommy!” and ran forward. The scream and movement of the young girl threw the agent off and he faltered in her grip. Maggie used this lack in the grip to kick the man in the gut, throwing the gun to the ground.

“Elizabeth, no! I need you to run!”  She yelled, the man beginning to fight back. She managed to yell out, “FRIDAY, activate Emergency Protcal: H Y Delta R Alpha!”

“Shut up!” The agent yelled.

Elizabeth had started to cry, refusing to leave, “Mommy, what about yo-”

“Elizabeth, run! Don’t stop, no matter what you hear! Just run!” Elizabeth remained still.

“Mommy…”

“Run!” Maggie screamed at her. And she did. Elizabeth, sobbing, ran out of the front door and down the hallway, down the flights of steps of their apartment building and she didn’t stop.

Not even when three gunshots echoed throughout the building.

Shadowhunters Short Story #52.

It is a warm spring day in April of 1886 when Brother Zachariah arrives at The London Institute and is quickly escorted upstairs by Will, to check on Tessa who is 7 months pregnant with her and Will’s first child. Brother Zachariah has been the one to care for Tessa and the baby throughout the pregnancy, coming to check them both over at least once a week, though often times he is summoned more than once a week, as Will has developed a habit of summoning him every time Tessa so much as flinches. He had called for Jem when the baby first moved, first kicked, had the hiccups and much more, and Jem was thrilled to be able to share these very special moments with those he loves most.

“Is everything alright?” Tessa asks Jem as he feels around her swollen stomach, checking the position of the baby and his measurements. 

Yes everything is perfect as usual, I have checked the baby’s position, now I am just checking his measurements. Jem explains. 

“Is he in a good position?” Will asks in an anxious tone, leaning forward in his chair at the side of Tessa’s bed. 

There is no bad position for him to be in right now William, when it comes closer to Tessa’s due date I will be keeping a much closer eye on his position. Jem tells his friend. 

“He’s kicking a lot, is he meant to kick so much? He’s keeping Tessa up at night.” Will asks, his tone full of worry and concern. Tessa laughs lightly and squeezes her husband’s hand.

“Will don’t bother Jem with your silly questions, this little one is just mischievous like his papa.” She says in a light tone. 

“They are not silly questions, he is preventing you from getting a proper rest, our son is quiet inconsiderate, he’s already being influenced by Gabriel!”Will dramatically exclaims.

It is alright William, I understand your concern but rest assured that your son’s kicks are nothing to worry about, if he is keeping you awake Tessa perhaps try talking to him or have William talk to him, Charlotte tells me that calmed her boys down when she was pregnant. Jem says, reminding himself to write up the notes from the recent delivery of Charlotte and Henry’s second son, Matthew, which he witnessed and assisted with. 

“How are Charlotte and little Matthew? We have not got a chance to visit them yet, Cecily, Gabriel and Anna went to see them the other day, apparently little Matthew looks nothing like Henry or Charlotte.” Tessa curiously asks, hoping that she and Will manage a trip to Idris to visit the Fairchild’s before the baby is born.

Charlotte and Matthew are doing very well, Charlotte is recovering well and little Matthew is perfectly healthy, Charles is in love with his brother and Henry is extremely proud and happy. And yes, Matthew is the polar opposite of his parents, blonde hair and green eyes, apparently he looks like Henry’s side of the family. Jem tells them, finishing his physical examination.

“What are you doing now?” Will suddenly asks, as Jem turns to pick something up from a tray behind him. 

I am going to test Tessa’s blood, make sure the baby’s Nephilim blood is not affecting her in a bad way, no need to worry William, I have done this test every single month since the first month and there has never been any problem, I am sure it will be the same now. Jem assures his friend, who he knows is stressing and fretting over everything. 

“I am going to have to start working on his nursery soon, but we simply cannot decide which room should be his.” Will says, sitting back in his chair, lacing his fingers with Tessa’s. 

“Cecily and I want the babies to share a nursery, but Will and Gabriel want the babies close to them and our room and Cecily and Gabriel’s room are quiet far from each other.” Tessa explains, running a hand down the side of her stomach. Cecily is 5 months pregnant and she and Tessa are very hopeful that since their babies will be so close in age, they will be close friends as they grow up, and Anna will love her cousin as much as she loves her brother.

May I make a suggestion? Jem asks, setting the vial of blood down and turning to Tessa and Will.

“Of course.” Tessa says, linking her other hand with Jem’s and gently squeezing it. 

Give the baby my room, do not keep it an empty shrine to me, fill it with new memories and love, with your son, I would love nothing more. Jem suggests, loving the idea of his old room being filled with a new life, a new life that will bring so much love and hope to Will and Tessa.

“Oh of course, that is a lovely idea.” Tessa softly says. Will nods in agreement and says

“I agree, we will tell our son stories of his beloved Uncle Jem and tell him how his Uncle Jem wanted him to have his room because he loves him so much.” 

Have you decided on a name? Jem curiously asks, knowing that he really shouldn’t allow himself to become so involved and so attached. 

Tessa and Will share a grin and Tessa says

“We have but it’s a secret, we are not telling anyone until he is born.” She and Will had agreed on a name for the baby as soon as they found out they are expecting and that they are expecting a boy, but they want to surprise everyone with his name, when he arrives. 

Not even me? Jem teases, pulling a chair up to the other side of Tessa’s bed and sitting down. 

“Well we would but The Silent Brothers are just such terrible gossips, it would spread like wild fire, I hear Brother Enoch is terrible with secrets.” Will jokingly says, smiling at his friend. 

“Oh, this little one has the hiccups again, he must ingest his food as quickly as you William.” Tessa lightly says, placing a hand over her stomach where she can feel a rhythmic twitching. 

“Again? Is it normal for it to happen so much?” Will asks in a concerned tone. 

I am certain it is but perhaps I should stay for a while and monitor him. Jem says, coming up with an excuse to stay longer and spend more time with Will and Tessa.

“Are you sure Brother Enoch would not allow you to stay here until the baby is born? This baby is the first of his kind and Tessa is the first Warlock to be able to have a child, surely it is not too much to have constant care?” Will asks in a hopeful tone. He had requested this at almost every stage of Tessa’s pregnancy but every time Brother Enoch told him he was being ridiculous, weekly check ups were plenty enough to keep a good eye on Tessa and the baby.

Contrary to your belief William, Tessa is not my only patient. Jem says, a hint of amusement creeping into his tone.

“Well of course not, you also attend to Cecily, which is another reason as to why you should stay with us until our baby is born, you would be able to keep a closer eye on Cecily too, after how sick she was when she was pregnant with Anna, she should have more frequent care too.” Will argues, feeling as though he may go mad with worry, between worrying about Tessa and their son, and fretting about Cecily and her baby, he is all worried out.

“Oh he’s kicking, Jem you must feel!” Tessa suddenly exclaims in a tone of excitement, placing Jem’s hand over her stomach where she can feel the nudge of her baby’s foot.

“Strong little Shadowhunter already our boy is.” Will proudly says, placing his hand next to Jem’s on Tessa’s stomach.

So he is, he will be a wonderful young man someday. 

Downstairs, Cecily and Gabriel have just finished up lunch and are sitting in the drawing room with Anna toddling about, exploring her surroundings, while they discuss baby names for their son. 

“Cecily do you suppose everything is alright with Tessa and the baby? Brother Zachariah has been with her an awfully long time, his visits with you never last anywhere near this long.” Gabriel asks his wife in a concerned tone, glancing up at the ceiling since the infirmary is right over the drawing room.

“I’m surprised you haven’t noticed before now, I am sure everything is fine with Tessa and the baby, she, Will and Jem are soaking up their time together and using this excuse to be able to spend longer periods of time together.” Cecily calmly explains to her husband, her heart breaking for her brother and how desperately he misses Jem.

“Those three have an odd relationship, I can’t imagine wanting to spend so much time with a Silent Brother.” Gabriel says.

“He’s not just a Silent Brother to them Gabe, he’s their Jem, Will’s parabatia and Tessa’s fiance, if Gideon had become a Silent Brother would you not do everything you could to see him as often as possible?” Cecily gently asks, trying to get Gabriel to understand Tessa, Will and Jem’s situation. 

“Hmm that I am not sure of, I would not miss him bossing me around.” Gabriel lightly says, scooping Anna up and kissing her cheek. “What do you think Anna? Are you going to boss your brother around like your Uncle Gideon bosses me around?” Anna smiles brightly and nods. 

“Uh hu, I boss of him, like mama the boss of Uncle Will!” Anna brightly exclaims, snuggling into her father and resting her head on his shoulder. Gabriel and Cecily laugh and Gabriel presses a kiss to his daughter’s temple. 

“And what about Aunt Tessa and Uncle Will’s baby, are you going to boss him around?” Cecily teases, brushing Anna’s dark hair back from her bright green eyes. Anna thinks about it for a moment before she says

“Uh-hu, I in charge!” Cecily and Gabriel share a grin and Gabriel lightly says 

“Well your brother and your cousin have no idea what they are in for.”

That evening, not long after Jem leaves, Will and Tessa make their way to his old room for the first time in quiet a few years, ready to clear it out and turn it into a nursery for their baby. 

As Will transports Jem’s stuff from his room to the storage space, Tessa sits in a chair by the window, where Jem use to play his violin, where he had been when they had first met, holding back tears. Jem’s violin is no longer here, it is stored in the music room instead.

“I think we should keep something of Jem’s in here, just one thing, I feel like it will connect him and the baby.” Tessa quietly suggests to Will, tracing patterns on her swollen stomach and looking around at the few things of Jem’s that are left in the room.

“I agree, how about we keep his cane in here? It could be our boy’s weapon of choice!” Will exclaims, excitement welling up in him at the thought of his son and Jem sharing a weapon of choice. 

Tessa smiles and nods 

“He cannot use it until he is older though, not until he has been trained in blades and swords.” Tessa firmly says, knowing her husband will want to train their son to use the cane from the moment he can hold something in his hand. Will pouts but then dramatically bows to his wife and kisses her hand. 

“As you wish my lady.” he solemnly says, as though Tessa has just asked him to leave her.

“If this little one is anywhere near as dramatic as you I may go mad.”Tessa teases, as Will kneels beside her and starts to trace soft patterns on her belly, a habit which he has developed over the last few months. He leans in close to the bump and softly says

“Jamie,it’s daddy, I love you baby boy, so much.” The minute he hears his father’s voice, the baby starts kicking up a fuss, flipping, rolling, kicking and everything in between. 

“I cannot wait to tell Jem his name, I hope he won’t mind.” Tessa says, doubt creeping into her voice. 

“Of course he will not mind, he will be honored and delighted. What should his middle name be? We should settle on that soon or else he will not have one.” Will assures his wife.

“Perhaps Edmund, after your father?” Tessa suggests. 

“I do love that idea but Cecily has already claimed that as a middle name for her son, she has claimed it since she was pregnant with Anna.” Will says, folding his arms over one of the arms of Tessa’s chair and resting his chin there.

“How about William then? I love the idea of naming my son after the two people I love most in the world, and two of the three people who love him the most.” Tessa softly suggests, knowing that Jem already loves this baby just as much as she and Will do and will be a very big part of his life. Will smiles softly and nods. 

“Yes, yes I like it. James William Herondale, a name fit for a king.”  

*2 Months later*

It is a calm June evening in London when Tessa feels her first contraction. She is sitting in the library with Will, who is holding a book with one hand and has the other resting on Tessa’s bump. Tessa’s head is resting on her husband’s shoulder, his soothing voice reading A Tale Of Two Cities, relaxing her, until she feels an intense pain grip her stomach, taking her breath away with it’s intensity. Tessa gasps and clutches at her stomach, unable to speak or move. 

“Tess?” Will asks in an alarmed tone, setting the book down and sitting up straight. “I-is it time?” He adds. Tessa lets out a long breath as the pain eases and slackens her grip on her stomach.

“I-I think so.” Tessa stammers, bracing herself for the next pain.

Will quickly helps his wife upstairs to the infirmary and asks Cecily to sit with her, while he races to summon Jem, and to ask Charlotte and Sophie to come as soon as they can to support and help Tessa.

Half an hour later Tessa is sitting on the edge of one of the infirmary beds, clutching her back and trying to breathe through the pain. Sophie and Charlotte immediately came to The Institute when they heard Tessa was in labor, and she is extremely grateful for theirs and Cecily’s support.

“Tessa, the midwife is here if you would like her to check on how things are progressing.” Charlotte softly says. Tessa shakes her head and says

“N-no... .Jem, I want Jem to deliver him, no one else.” It is not usual for Silent Brothers to deliver babies, but sometimes they do, usually in cases of high risk pregnancies and complicated births, but there is nothing to say a Silent Brother cannot deliver a baby that has not been a complicated pregnancy and is not a complicated birth. “Where’s Jem?!” Tessa asks in a tone of desperation as another horrendous pain hits her.

I am here. She hears Jem’s familiar voice, echoing softly in her head. Seconds later he is at her side, crouching in front of her. She grabs his hand in hers, gritting her teeth through the pain.

“Oh Jesus, oh God!” Tessa screams as the pain intensifies. Jem pushes his hood back and places a hand on Tessa’s shoulder.

Keep breathing Tessa, when this contraction has passed I can give you something to ease the pain. He tells her.

 Tessa clutches Jem’s shoulders tightly, looking him straight in the face.

“I want you to deliver him, no one else just you, I only trust you.” Jem squeezes her hand lightly.

Then I shall deliver him.

Tessa’s labor continues for hours and hours. While she labors in The Infirmary, Will, Gideon, Henry and Gabriel wait outside, Will an anxious mess as usual. 

6 hours after going into labor, Tessa feels the familiar urge to push, but feels no desire to move from her position, sitting on the edge of the bed, to lying flat on her back on the bed, as many women do.

“Jem I don’t want to lie down, I want to stay sitting I feel better this way, please let me stay sitting.” Tessa hurriedly says, wincing as another pain tears through her.

I will never make you do anything you  do not want to Tessa, you are the one giving birth to this baby and therefore you are in control, if you want to sit then you can sit. Jem tells her, causing relief to wash over her like a wave.

As Tessa starts to push, Charlotte, Sophie and Cecily take a few steps back from her, sensing that she has the one person she needs more than anything with her, she has Jem.

Jem kneels by Tessa’s feet, blocking everything from view from everyone but him. As she pushes, Tessa grasps both Jem’s shoulders, drawing strength and energy from him being with her.

I can see his head Tessa, he will be here before you know it, push again. Jem encourages her. Tessa takes a shaky breath, grips Jem’s shoulders and pushes again, as hard as she can. A few minutes later she feels a weight lift from her followed very closely by the cry of a baby. Tessa’s breath hitches in her throat when Jem carefully lays her baby on a clean white towel at her feet and begins to clean him down.

“Oh is he okay?” Tessa asks in a breathy tone, trying desperately to catch her breath. 

He is absolutely perfect, congratulations. Jem tells her, wrapping the baby up in the towel and passing him up to Tessa, just as Will barges in, having heard the baby cry and being unable to wait a second more to meet his son and see that Tessa is alright.

“William, Will look at him.” Tessa says in a teary tone, looking up from her son to her husband, tears of joy welling in her eyes. Their little boy is so utterly beautiful and perfect, already his father’s double. 

“Oh my god, our miracle.” Will softly says in a tone of awe, sitting next to Tessa and running a hand over the baby’s thick mop of black hair. 

“Are you going to tell us his name now?” Cecily eagerly asks. She hated that Will and Tessa had kept the baby’s name a secret, she hated not knowing things like that, Gabriel had not wanted to find out the sex of the baby this time or when she was pregnant with Anna, but Cecily was far too curious to wait 9 months to know and insisted on finding out.

“Not yet, we want to keep it to ourselves another while.” Tessa quietly says, gazing down at her baby.

“Would you like a hint Cecily?” Will asks, smiling up at his sister, knowing how much this must be killing her. 

“Yes!” Cecily exclaims.

“It starts with a J.” Will tells her. 

“Jesse after Jessamine?” Cecily asks. Will smiles and shakes his head

“No that name is taken anyway is it not? Your sister-in-law named her baby Jesse didn’t she?” Tessa asks, adjusting the baby in her arms.

“Who Tatianna? I have no idea what she named her son, she does not speak to Gabriel or Gideon, just as well too, I do not want someone like her around my children.” Cecily firmly says, knowing he spoiled and awful Tatianna is, from all of Gabriel’s stories, he adores his sister of course, but he knows she is not the best person. 

“Listen to your Aunty Cecily my boy, Lightworms are never good news.” Will quietly says to the baby. Cecily smiles and rolls her eyes at her brother’s comment. 

“I best go check on Matthew and Charles, see how Henry is doing being on his own with them both for the first time, if you need any help with the little one at all, Henry, the boys and I will be staying here for a few more nights.” Charlotte says, once she and Sophie have helped the midwife clean up the bloody towels and sheets. 

“Yes I better go check on Thomas, Brother Zachariah could you please check him over? If you do not mind, I worry that all the travelling we have done today will affect his health, and he is still so small for his age and is not meeting his milestones on time.” Sophie asks in a tone full of concern for her ill child, who was born 2 months premature last year.

Of course Sophie. Brother Zachariah says, drawing his hood up and walking from the room behind Sophie, unable to think of anything else to say to Tessa and Will, he is of course thrilled for them but it also hurts him greatly that he will not get to be as involved in their child’s life as he should be.

A few days later, Tessa and Will travel to The Silent City with their baby to have the runes of protection placed upon him, and Will had demanded that Brother Zachariah be the one to place the runes on him alongside an Iron Sister. Right now Tessa and Jem are standing in a small stone room in The Silent City, with only a stone slab in the center, waiting on Jem and The Iron Sister to arrive. 

“Your Uncle Jem is coming to see you Jamie, and we are going to tell him your name, that we are naming you after him, I hope he likes your name, do you like your name?” Will coos to his son, who is lying wide awake in Will’s arms, looking all around him. Jamie coos and reaches out to grab his father’s hand, snuggling further into him, as if to say ‘Yes I like my name!’

Just then the doors to the room open and Jem and an Iron Sister walk in. 

“Are you ready to begin?” The Iron sister calmly asks. 

“Tess and I are, what about you my boy, are you ready to become a big strong Shadowhunter like your daddy?” Will coos to the baby, who smiles up at him in delight and reaches up to pat his face. 

What will you name your child? Brother Zachariah formally asks, as part of the ceremony.  

“James, his name is James William Herondale.” Will proudly announces, smiling proudly down at his son while Tessa reaches over to stroke Jamie’s dark hair and soft little cheek. 

When Will looks up to see Jem’s reaction, Jem has turned away and covered his face with his hands, so beyond conflicted and struggling to figure out how to feel about the baby’s name. He is honored that Tessa and Will have chosen to name their son after him but he also wishes for the child to have his own name, one that is not attached to so much heartache, but he knows better than to ask them to change the child’s name, Tessa and Will are two extremely stubborn people and once they have made up their minds, nothing on earth can make them change their minds.

The runes of protection and all the travelling leave little Jamie absolutely exhausted by the time evening comes, he easily fell asleep in his mother’s arms in the carriage ride home and slept for hours afterward, only waking up for an hour to nurse and then immediately falling back asleep. Tessa and Will know their is no point in trying to keep him awake until his usual bedtime, all structure and routine has gone out the window today. So once Tessa has finished winding James, she and Will take him to his nursery, Jem’s old room transformed for the baby, as he had requested. 

“This was your Uncle Jem’s room Jamie, he wants you to have it because he loves you so much, just as much as mama and I do, he is the bravest man I have ever met and I have no doubt you will grow up to be just as amazing as him.” Will softly tells his son, as he settles into the rocking chair by the window with him. 

“Tell him a story about Jem, your favorite story about him.” Tessa quietly says, sitting on the end of Jem’s old bed, that will become Jamie’s when he no longer needs his crib.

Will smiles at his wife and nods, before looking down at his son and quietly starting to tell him the story of how Jem asked him to be his parabatia. This is first of many nights that little James will fall asleep to the sounds of his mother or father telling him stories about his amazing, beloved Uncle Jem.