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#it is indeed wonderful how much will amuse a imprisoned man
regularragdoll · 2 years
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Jonathan witnesses something normal
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starcunning · 2 years
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1. Cross
Streams of Time
For @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast's FFXIVWrite 2022. [AO3 mirror]
The meandering breeze carried with it the scent of sliced apples and pine needles, winnowing through silver hair that had grown long and shaggy. Like the First, Shasi reflected, Elpis seemed a place out of time. It was only the length of her hair that told her how long had passed. That and the depth of her husband’s tan, she amended, cracking one eye open to peer at him.
The apple she’d smelled, she discovered, was in Eros’s hand. With a pocket knife in the other, he had cut free a slice, and paused in the lifting of it to his lips, suddenly aware of the force of her gaze. He turned those golden eyes upon her, and Shasi found herself thinking their color was at that moment just the same as the gilt tracery of the windows in their villa.
“I had not meant to wake you,” he said, glancing away a moment. Shasi shook her head: “You didn’t,” she assured.
“Pleasant dreams?” He cut free another slice of apple and offered it to her. Shasi pushed herself up to a sitting position and took it, pale apple flesh sliding over silver steel. “I dreamed of Elidibus,” she said. “Themis.” “No,” Shasi insisted, “Elidibus. Our Elidibus.”
She did not like to think of the Crystal Tower; of its Ocular; of its keeper and of the entity that had been consigned to imprisonment in its spires until he spent the coin of his life fueling the spell which had first brought her to this place. And yet the picture would not go from her mind of her last visit—enclosed by walls the same blue as her eyes, the figment in white had appeared before her.
“I’ve been thinking about what he said,” Shasi continued. She scrubbed a hand over her face, blinking the sleep from her eyes. Motes of manifold color glimmered on the wind as it wandered over the isle, and Shasi found herself blinking again, because for the first time, the moon had risen above the horizon.
The trackless days she had spent here, investigating Pandaemonium—aided by Eros, Erichthonios, and Elidibus; the youth need not admit his identity for her to know him—had never been so marked before. The night skies over Elpis were rich with stars, but she had been born under two moons, and to find none at all appeared night after night had made her wonder …
Garlemald was only Allag writ anew—and it did not take much thought to connect Azys Lla with Elpis—but had Dalamud, too, been crafted in the image of an older prison? Perhaps Etheirys had known no moon until the Sundering. But no, there the evidence stared her in the face: the moon had been a convenience, not a creation, when it came time to bind Zodiark.
Why had it not appeared before now? She made a note to ask Erichthonios. If he did not know the answer, he could surely point the way to one who did.
“Shasi Galvus,” Eros said, with the sort of tone that implied it was not the first time. She allowed a crooked smile to tug at her lips, reaching out to wind her arms about his bicep, pressing her temple to the curve of his shoulder. Eros canted his head to one side to press his cheek to her hair in turn. “What did he say?” Eros prompted her. “A thousand things, for ten thousand purposes,” Shasi murmured. “I wish I could tell him his name,” she said then. The pity sat strange in her breast, where once she had held nothing for the man but rancor. That had not been true even when she and Eros had met—indeed, they had first chanced to cross paths not long after her final return from the First, and his very name had caught her ear, echoing as it did the appellation of one of her Lightwarden foes. And now they were wed, and Elidibus was gone, and Shasi lamented that loss.
She cleared her throat. “When he sent us here,” she said, “he told us that even if we were able to make ourselves seen and heard here, we could change nothing. Not as a warning, I think, but as a truism. But … he’s wrong.” “Oh?” Eros seemed amused. That dimple teased his cheek as it had not in some few moons, and Shasi tipped her head up to kiss it. “Well, wife,” he continued, “tell me the rest.” That made her laugh—and his smile broadened in response, like he cherished the sound. “The Exarch,” she said then. “’Tis true that, bereft a host, he will fade in time, as the Scions might have done, but … he should have disappeared the moment I turned back the Light for the first time. Or when Estinien destroyed the first Black Rose facility. Or at a thousand junctures before and since, when the river of time was diverted by the weirs and dams of my actions. You met G’raha Tia,” Shasi added, modulating her tone to blandness.
Eros extricated his arm from her grasp so that he could gather her against his side instead, stroking one broad hand down her bicep in turn. He sensed her agitation, then; she had little way of hiding it from his empathetic insight, and in truth she hoped she never learned the knack. “I did,” he said.
Of her many Echo-induced gifts, her husband’s manner of emotional insight had never numbered among them. But even she could tell he was hedging in like manner to her—though like as not it was more to do with the matter of their separation during that time, and whatever had found him in the rift between worlds as he pursued her to another shard.
“Well,” Shasi said, finding herself nuzzling against Eros’s side, “he cannot then be dormant in the tower for Cid to discover and awaken after a Calamity that will never come to pass.”
“Whatever it is you’re talking yourself around to, you can just tell me,” Eros reminded her.
“There’s absolutely nothing stopping us from changing the past,” Shasi said. “And then what? We live out our natural lives here? If you wanted to escape to paradise, I’m told Tataru bought us an island.” “No,” Shasi said, “we go back to Garlemald, as we planned, and finish the work we started there. Or … we spend our lives with the work, and hope our children’s children might finish it, more likely.” She looked up at Eros’s face—so like his grandsire’s, she found herself thinking for the thousandth time. As she often did, she hoped his brow would never grow so lined with worry as had Solus’s. “Tempting as it is to stay here—and maybe the only thing more tempting than watching your skin grow tan while we’re about our work here is watching you work on your tan deliberately on a remote isle where we should scarcely find ourselves interrupted—I can no more live a life of idleness than you can.” “Will that life still exist to return to?” Shasi pursed her lips, then nodded. “The tower could send us back to the time and place whence it came, if I but understood how to command it to,” she said. “I suspect we should still find a world to greet us, else the Exarch should have disappeared.
“It isn’t fair,” she said at last. “Very little is,” Eros murmured, and for three small words they bore too much weight. “It isn’t right; it isn’t just. It’s far too late for me to make right what went wrong so long ago in Ktisis Hyperborea. And that would create some other stream of causality, one which you and I could never see. Never visit, never cross to. But Amaurot could be saved—they could all be saved, if I could only make them see—” “See what, kitten?” Eros asked her. “That the end of the world was caused by one of their own?” “No,” Shasi said, looking up into those struck-coin eyes. So like his grandsire’s; so like those of her soul’s oldest friend. “The same thing you taught me to see. That they’re not alone.”
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hellsitesonlybookclub · 5 months
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Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
Chapter XXII
The voyage came to an end. We landed, and proceeded to Paris. I soon found that I had overtaxed my strength, and that I must repose before I could continue my journey. My father's care and attentions were indefatigable; but he did not know the origin of my sufferings, and sought erroneous methods to remedy the incurable ill. He wished me to seek amusement in society. I abhorred the face of man. Oh, not abhorred! they were my brethren, my fellow beings, and I felt attracted even to the most repulsive among them, as to creatures of an angelic nature and celestial mechanism. But I felt that I had no right to share their intercourse. I had unchained an enemy among them, whose joy it was to shed their blood, and to revel in their groans. How they would, each and all, abhor me, and hunt me from the world, did they know my unhallowed acts, and the crimes which had their source in me!
My father yielded at length to my desire to avoid society, and strove by various arguments to banish my despair. Sometimes he thought that I felt deeply the degradation of being obliged to answer a charge of murder, and he endeavoured to prove to me the futility of pride.
"Alas! my father," said I, "how little do you know me. Human beings, their feelings and passions, would indeed be degraded if such a wretch as I felt pride. Justine, poor unhappy Justine, was as innocent as I, and she suffered the same charge; she died for it; and I am the cause of this—I murdered her. William, Justine, and Henry—they all died by my hands."
My father had often, during my imprisonment, heard me make the same assertion; when I thus accused myself, he sometimes seemed to desire an explanation, and at others he appeared to consider it as the offspring of delirium, and that, during my illness, some idea of this kind had presented itself to my imagination, the remembrance of which I preserved in my convalescence. I avoided explanation, and maintained a continual silence concerning the wretch I had created. I had a persuasion that I should be supposed mad; and this in itself would for ever have chained my tongue. But, besides, I could not bring myself to disclose a secret which would fill my hearer with consternation, and make fear and unnatural horror the inmates of his breast. I checked, therefore, my impatient thirst for sympathy, and was silent when I would have given the world to have confided the fatal secret. Yet still words like those I have recorded, would burst uncontrollably from me. I could offer no explanation of them; but their truth in part relieved the burden of my mysterious woe.
Upon this occasion my father said, with an expression of unbounded wonder, "My dearest Victor, what infatuation is this? My dear son, I entreat you never to make such an assertion again."
"I am not mad," I cried energetically; "the sun and the heavens, who have viewed my operations, can bear witness of my truth. I am the assassin of those most innocent victims; they died by my machinations. A thousand times would I have shed my own blood, drop by drop, to have saved their lives; but I could not, my father, indeed I could not sacrifice the whole human race."
The conclusion of this speech convinced my father that my ideas were deranged, and he instantly changed the subject of our conversation, and endeavoured to alter the course of my thoughts. He wished as much as possible to obliterate the memory of the scenes that had taken place in Ireland, and never alluded to them, or suffered me to speak of my misfortunes.
As time passed away I became more calm: misery had her dwelling in my heart, but I no longer talked in the same incoherent manner of my own crimes; sufficient for me was the consciousness of them. By the utmost self-violence, I curbed the imperious voice of wretchedness, which sometimes desired to declare itself to the whole world; and my manners were calmer and more composed than they had ever been since my journey to the sea of ice.
A few days before we left Paris on our way to Switzerland, I received the following letter from Elizabeth:—
"My dear Friend,
"It gave me the greatest pleasure to receive a letter from my uncle dated at Paris; you are no longer at a formidable distance, and I may hope to see you in less than a fortnight. My poor cousin, how much you must have suffered! I expect to see you looking even more ill than when you quitted Geneva. This winter has been passed most miserably, tortured as I have been by anxious suspense; yet I hope to see peace in your countenance, and to find that your heart is not totally void of comfort and tranquillity.
"Yet I fear that the same feelings now exist that made you so miserable a year ago, even perhaps augmented by time. I would not disturb you at this period, when so many misfortunes weigh upon you; but a conversation that I had with my uncle previous to his departure renders some explanation necessary before we meet.
"Explanation! you may possibly say; what can Elizabeth have to explain? If you really say this, my questions are answered, and all my doubts satisfied. But you are distant from me, and it is possible that you may dread, and yet be pleased with this explanation; and, in a probability of this being the case, I dare not any longer postpone writing what, during your absence, I have often wished to express to you, but have never had the courage to begin.
"You well know, Victor, that our union had been the favourite plan of your parents ever since our infancy. We were told this when young, and taught to look forward to it as an event that would certainly take place. We were affectionate playfellows during childhood, and, I believe, dear and valued friends to one another as we grew older. But as brother and sister often entertain a lively affection towards each other, without desiring a more intimate union, may not such also be our case? Tell me, dearest Victor. Answer me, I conjure you, by our mutual happiness, with simple truth—Do you not love another?
"You have travelled; you have spent several years of your life at Ingolstadt; and I confess to you, my friend, that when I saw you last autumn so unhappy, flying to solitude, from the society of every creature, I could not help supposing that you might regret our connection, and believe yourself bound in honour to fulfil the wishes of your parents, although they opposed themselves to your inclinations. But this is false reasoning. I confess to you, my friend, that I love you, and that in my airy dreams of futurity you have been my constant friend and companion. But it is your happiness I desire as well as my own, when I declare to you, that our marriage would render me eternally miserable, unless it were the dictate of your own free choice. Even now I weep to think, that, borne down as you are by the cruellest misfortunes, you may stifle, by the word honour, all hope of that love and happiness which would alone restore you to yourself. I, who have so disinterested an affection for you, may increase your miseries tenfold, by being an obstacle to your wishes. Ah! Victor, be assured that your cousin and playmate has too sincere a love for you not to be made miserable by this supposition. Be happy, my friend; and if you obey me in this one request, remain satisfied that nothing on earth will have the power to interrupt my tranquillity.
"Do not let this letter disturb you; do not answer to-morrow, or the next day, or even until you come, if it will give you pain. My uncle will send me news of your health; and if I see but one smile on your lips when we meet, occasioned by this or any other exertion of mine, I shall need no other happiness.
"Elizabeth Lavenza.
"Geneva, May 18th, 17—."
This letter revived in my memory what I had before forgotten, the threat of the fiend—"I will be with you on your wedding night!" Such was my sentence, and on that night would the dæmon employ every art to destroy me, and tear me from the glimpse of happiness which promised partly to console my sufferings. On that night he had determined to consummate his crimes by my death. Well, be it so; a deadly struggle would then assuredly take place, in which if he were victorious I should be at peace, and his power over me be at an end. If he were vanquished, I should be a free man. Alas! what freedom? such as the peasant enjoys when his family have been massacred before his eyes, his cottage burnt, his lands laid waste, and he is turned adrift, homeless, penniless, and alone, but free. Such would be my liberty, except that in my Elizabeth I possessed a treasure; alas! balanced by those horrors of remorse and guilt, which would pursue me until death.
Sweet and beloved Elizabeth! I read and re-read her letter, and some softened feelings stole into my heart, and dared to whisper paradisiacal dreams of love and joy; but the apple was already eaten, and the angel's arm bared to drive me from all hope. Yet I would die to make her happy. If the monster executed his threat, death was inevitable; yet, again, I considered whether my marriage would hasten my fate. My destruction might indeed arrive a few months sooner; but if my torturer should suspect that I postponed it, influenced by his menaces, he would surely find other, and perhaps more dreadful means of revenge. He had vowed to be with me on my wedding-night, yet he did not consider that threat as binding him to peace in the mean time; for, as if to show me that he was not yet satiated with blood, he had murdered Clerval immediately after the enunciation of his threats. I resolved, therefore, that if my immediate union with my cousin would conduce either to hers or my father's happiness, my adversary's designs against my life should not retard it a single hour.
In this state of mind I wrote to Elizabeth. My letter was calm and affectionate. "I fear, my beloved girl," I said, "little happiness remains for us on earth; yet all that I may one day enjoy is centred in you. Chase away your idle fears; to you alone do I consecrate my life, and my endeavours for contentment. I have one secret, Elizabeth, a dreadful one; when revealed to you, it will chill your frame with horror, and then, far from being surprised at my misery, you will only wonder that I survive what I have endured. I will confide this tale of misery and terror to you the day after our marriage shall take place; for, my sweet cousin, there must be perfect confidence between us. But until then, I conjure you, do not mention or allude to it. This I most earnestly entreat, and I know you will comply."
In about a week after the arrival of Elizabeth's letter, we returned to Geneva. The sweet girl welcomed me with warm affection; yet tears were in her eyes, as she beheld my emaciated frame and feverish cheeks. I saw a change in her also. She was thinner, and had lost much of that heavenly vivacity that had before charmed me; but her gentleness, and soft looks of compassion, made her a more fit companion for one blasted and miserable as I was.
The tranquillity which I now enjoyed did not endure. Memory brought madness with it; and when I thought of what had passed, a real insanity possessed me; sometimes I was furious, and burnt with rage; sometimes low and despondent. I neither spoke, nor looked at any one, but sat motionless, bewildered by the multitude of miseries that overcame me.
Elizabeth alone had the power to draw me from these fits; her gentle voice would soothe me when transported by passion, and inspire me with human feelings when sunk in torpor. She wept with me, and for me. When reason returned, she would remonstrate, and endeavour to inspire me with resignation. Ah! it is well for the unfortunate to be resigned, but for the guilty there is no peace. The agonies of remorse poison the luxury there is otherwise sometimes found in indulging the excess of grief.
Soon after my arrival, my father spoke of my immediate marriage with Elizabeth. I remained silent.
"Have you, then, some other attachment?"
"None on earth. I love Elizabeth, and look forward to our union with delight. Let the day therefore be fixed; and on it I will consecrate myself, in life or death, to the happiness of my cousin."
"My dear Victor, do not speak thus. Heavy misfortunes have befallen us; but let us only cling closer to what remains, and transfer our love for those whom we have lost, to those who yet live. Our circle will be small, but bound close by the ties of affection and mutual misfortune. And when time shall have softened your despair, new and dear objects of care will be born to replace those of whom we have been so cruelly deprived."
Such were the lessons of my father. But to me the remembrance of the threat returned: nor can you wonder, that, omnipotent as the fiend had yet been in his deeds of blood, I should almost regard him as invincible; and that when he had pronounced the words, "I shall be with you on your wedding-night," I should regard the threatened fate as unavoidable. But death was no evil to me, if the loss of Elizabeth were balanced with it; and I therefore, with a contented and even cheerful countenance, agreed with my father, that if my cousin would consent, the ceremony should take place in ten days, and thus put, as I imagined, the seal to my fate.
Great God! if for one instant I had thought what might be the hellish intention of my fiendish adversary, I would rather have banished myself for ever from my native country, and wandered a friendless outcast over the earth, than have consented to this miserable marriage. But, as if possessed of magic powers, the monster had blinded me to his real intentions; and when I thought that I had prepared only my own death, I hastened that of a far dearer victim.
As the period fixed for our marriage drew nearer, whether from cowardice or a prophetic feeling, I felt my heart sink within me. But I concealed my feelings by an appearance of hilarity, that brought smiles and joy to the countenance of my father, but hardly deceived the ever-watchful and nicer eye of Elizabeth. She looked forward to our union with placid contentment, not unmingled with a little fear, which past misfortunes had impressed, that what now appeared certain and tangible happiness, might soon dissipate into an airy dream, and leave no trace but deep and everlasting regret.
Preparations were made for the event; congratulatory visits were received; and all wore a smiling appearance. I shut up, as well as I could, in my own heart the anxiety that preyed there, and entered with seeming earnestness into the plans of my father, although they might only serve as the decorations of my tragedy. Through my father's exertions, a part of the inheritance of Elizabeth had been restored to her by the Austrian government. A small possession on the shores of Como belonged to her. It was agreed that, immediately after our union, we should proceed to Villa Lavenza, and spend our first days of happiness beside the beautiful lake near which it stood.
In the mean time I took every precaution to defend my person, in case the fiend should openly attack me. I carried pistols and a dagger constantly about me, and was ever on the watch to prevent artifice; and by these means gained a greater degree of tranquillity. Indeed, as the period approached, the threat appeared more as a delusion, not to be regarded as worthy to disturb my peace, while the happiness I hoped for in my marriage wore a greater appearance of certainty, as the day fixed for its solemnisation drew nearer, and I heard it continually spoken of as an occurrence which no accident could possibly prevent.
Elizabeth seemed happy; my tranquil demeanour contributed greatly to calm her mind. But on the day that was to fulfil my wishes and my destiny, she was melancholy, and a presentiment of evil pervaded her; and perhaps also she thought of the dreadful secret which I had promised to reveal to her on the following day. My father was in the mean time overjoyed, and, in the bustle of preparation, only recognised in the melancholy of his niece the diffidence of a bride.
After the ceremony was performed, a large party assembled at my father's; but it was agreed that Elizabeth and I should commence our journey by water, sleeping that night at Evian, and continuing our voyage on the following day. The day was fair, the wind favourable, all smiled on our nuptial embarkation.
Those were the last moments of my life during which I enjoyed the feeling of happiness. We passed rapidly along: the sun was hot, but we were sheltered from its rays by a kind of canopy, while we enjoyed the beauty of the scene, sometimes on one side of the lake, where we saw Mont Salêve, the pleasant banks of Montalègre, and at a distance, surmounting all, the beautiful Mont Blanc, and the assemblage of snowy mountains that in vain endeavour to emulate her; sometimes coasting the opposite banks, we saw the mighty Jura opposing its dark side to the ambition that would quit its native country, and an almost insurmountable barrier to the invader who should wish to enslave it.
I took the hand of Elizabeth: "You are sorrowful, my love. Ah! if you knew what I have suffered, and what I may yet endure, you would endeavour to let me taste the quiet and freedom from despair, that this one day at least permits me to enjoy."
"Be happy, my dear Victor," replied Elizabeth; "there is, I hope, nothing to distress you; and be assured that if a lively joy is not painted in my face, my heart is contented. Something whispers to me not to depend too much on the prospect that is opened before us; but I will not listen to such a sinister voice. Observe how fast we move along, and how the clouds, which sometimes obscure and sometimes rise above the dome of Mont Blanc, render this scene of beauty still more interesting. Look also at the innumerable fish that are swimming in the clear waters, where we can distinguish every pebble that lies at the bottom. What a divine day! how happy and serene all nature appears!"
Thus Elizabeth endeavoured to divert her thoughts and mine from all reflection upon melancholy subjects. But her temper was fluctuating; joy for a few instants shone in her eyes, but it continually gave place to distraction and reverie.
The sun sunk lower in the heavens; we passed the river Drance, and observed its path through the chasms of the higher, and the glens of the lower hills. The Alps here come closer to the lake, and we approached the amphitheatre of mountains which forms its eastern boundary. The spire of Evian shone under the woods that surrounded it, and the range of mountain above mountain by which it was overhung.
The wind, which had hitherto carried us along with amazing rapidity, sunk at sunset to a light breeze; the soft air just ruffled the water, and caused a pleasant motion among the trees as we approached the shore, from which it wafted the most delightful scent of flowers and hay. The sun sunk beneath the horizon as we landed; and as I touched the shore, I felt those cares and fears revive, which soon were to clasp me, and cling to me for ever.
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toxic-gorgon · 3 years
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Yandere Dio Brando x Reader: Useless
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Synapsis: You are one of the last hamon users and while the practice itself has died along Lisa Lisa, except for a tiny handful of users. While most are willing to allow their gifts to die out and go about their daily lives, you want to put yours to good use and join the crusaders.
Content Warning: Extremely dark themes, click the read more at your own risk! Non-con, blood, yandere Dio, depression/hopelessness, corruption kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, talks of su*cide, violence, and extremely spicy themes. 18+, minors DNI! By continuing to read, you understand the risk.
When you joined the Speedwagon Foundation, you knew the chances of you dying for Mr. Joestar’s cause was almost inevitable. Your gifts were nothing compared to the powerful and unique stands that you came across during the start of your journey. You were one of the last remaining hamon users, but instead of allowing it to fizzle out like the others who trade their gifts for normal lives, you wanted to help and be useful! Lisa Lisa long passed and you heard stories of how hamon saved the world. Allowing hamon to die was allowing a part of yourself to die. 
Hamon was useless against stands, but worked wonders against humans and vampires. However, you primarily used yours for healing and support! The crusaders could use all the help they could get, so it made sense when the directors approached you for the task. Their lives are in your hands, and if it means to put an end to the vampyric Dio’s reign, then you’ll do your part and make sure these boys stay alive.
That’s what you thought at the beginning, back before your days meshed together and all time seemed to stagnate. 
You weren’t sure how many days it’s been since you first arrived in this suffocating manor in Cairo. The dark and coldness inside the manor contrasts the warm and vibrant colors outside your window during the day. You were ever the spunky one when you first arrived, you knew your friends were well on their way and you had no problem voicing that fact loudly in Dio’s presence. He would scoff, flashing you an amused grin, after all you were (as what he puts it) like a fangless, clawless feline. You don’t pose any real threat, but it’s cute to see you try. 
Dio is every bit what the rumors said. His raw charisma and power alone should frighten you, but that’s just one piece of the puzzle that’s Dio Brando. His beauty was truly breathtaking, much more so in person, his shirtless form proudly displayed like a painting hung carefully in the Louvre. His voice charmingly suave, almost a mesmerizing melody that beckons you closer like a siren’s call that you can’t block out. Worst of all was his eyes, that piercing gaze of his that can see right through you, all your worst fears and highest hopes, nothing can be hidden from this man. 
When you first arrived at his mansion, you were awestruck. Cat-got-your-tongue indeed as you drank in the imposing monster of a man, your enemy. What could he possibly want from you? His smirk makes your chest clench as the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You wanted to run, and you would’ve if it wasn’t for you being so goddamned weak. You were completely at his fucking mercy, all he had to do was give the word and you would meet your end. You expected to die right then and there, surely a man like Dio would take out his enemy while he had the chance, just so later down the line it won’t bite him in the ass. You weren’t sure if it was out of pity or amusement, but your death never came. Instead, the cocky asshole smriks and gives you his blessing to tour his home. Hell, he even allowed you access to his library, on the grounds that if you did decide to run, you would be all too easy to catch. You were convinced this man had no real plan for you being here, besides making things much harder for the crusaders by stealing away their healer. 
You were determined to keep your head held high and wait for your knights in shining armor. 
But now, you’re just a shallow husk of despair. All the hope and conviction you had died little by little as the days went by, as those dark thoughts that Dio would mock you with began to take root. There’s no point in brainwashing you when your conviction can be shattered so easily. During the day, Vanilla Ice and Pet Shop watch over you. You absolutely loathe Vanilla Ice. His blind devotion towards his master churned your stomach, all the while he’s looking down on you and lack of stand ability. His words stung, but now they mirror static, background noise for your chaotic thoughts. 
Pet Shop was your preferred caretaker. He’s a bird, so he can’t talk like your other wardens. However, you could’ve sworn you saw that bird smirk once or twice, and his steely gaze mirrored his cocky yet powerful master. Perhaps the bird was silently judging you, even mocking you for being more caged than he was. After all, Pet Shop was allowed to move past the mansion’s windows and enjoy the fresh air and sun, even though he stayed within his bounds. A murder hawk has more freedom than you do.
The nights are always the worst. Screams of ecstasy or pain, you weren’t sure which anymore, filled the halls. After a while of being imprisoned, they all sound the same. How long before you’re next? You felt like it was any day now, and eventually your captor will grow bored of your constant banter. Perhaps that would be for the best, you’re dead weight anyway as long as you remain here.
Your friends were on a mission to save Holly, which you admit is more important than rescuing you. You knew the risk after when you joined this crusade, you just didn’t think it would end here in the lion’s den. You contemplated jumping out the window, not caring how painful the initial impact would be. You always decide against it, and instead sit and wait, chalking it up to being a coward as well. Everyday when your saviors hadn’t come, the little bit of hope inside was crushed gradually until barely anything was left besides tears of frustration and a luxurious queen sized bed to help you sleep.
Since you’ve been here, Dio took the liberty of making sure you’re fed three five star meals a day and accompanying you with a wine glass of blood. Such a gentleman, he even made idle chit-chat while you refused to take a bite (no matter how many times he told you it would be a waste poisoning you). Dio boasted about his many achievements, including how he stole Jonathan Jostar’s body, which you weren’t sure if he was just bragging or making sure that even in a casual setting, the threat still lingered. Was this supposed to impress you? Because the only responses you ever gave him were snide remarks and silence. Sometimes he would treat this like a silly game, but on days when he was more temperamental, you wisely chose to nod your head and actually eat what’s in front of you.
He made sure you were treated well, despite your situation. You bathed in a tub fit for a princess with fancy soaps and perfume, and was dressed in the finest of authentic Egyptian gowns that money could buy. All of which were gifts from Dio. He even took the liberty to do away with all your drab belongings and anything that didn’t fit his opulent aesthetic. He even gave you art supplies once. Whenever he gave one of these gifts, he always made sure to attach a rose with it. You always throw them out.
To occupy yourself when your host is gone and taking time for himself, you like to venture to his library and thumb through his vast selection. You’re sure you read over half of his stock by now, but something new always catches your eye to pass the time with. Usually you would saunter off into your room, avoiding the underlings as much as possible, but tonight was one of those nights where Dio met you there. 
“There you are darling, I was worried I missed you.” His smooth voice did little to put you in ease. 
“What do you want?” you sighed, making your way to the bookcase and browsing through different titles. Dio playfully scoffs, as always everything you say is just a game to him, and the disdain in your tone goes unnoticed. You didn’t move an inch when he moved closer to you, towering over your much smaller frame.
“You wound me dear, I only wish to spend time with you.” He leans in close next to your ear, his warm breath tickling your lobe. “Alone.” Now that’s laughable! Dio Brando isn’t a man who did anything out of kindness or ‘quality time’ without something in return. Did he run out of bodies to satisfy his hunger? What could you possibly offer him besides a snack?
“Spend time with you? I’ve seen what you do to the men and women who throw themselves at you for a sliver of attention. Their dead carcass lay about your manor like furniture when you’ve drained them.” You barely whispered. Why were you explaining his misdeeds to him like a child? You weren’t sure if you were trying to reason or reach the last thread of humanity within, but doubt was clearly written on your face. You wanted this to end.
You balled your hands into fists and shook with rage. “Just kill me and get it over with! I’m tired of you and I’m tired of being here!” 
Dio couldn’t help but sneer at your sudden outburst. How can you say these things? He’s given so much to you, and this is how you repay him? Do you not realize what you do to him? How weak he is while in your presence? How absurd. You had to have known, and perhaps you were testing his patience on purpose.
Reaching up and gripping your chin roughly, Dio kept your gaze on him. “I ask very little of you and have given you everything you could ever ask for. Tell me darling, are you truly unhappy?” his lips brush against your own, and his voice dangerously low that it sent shivers down your spine. Your voice was caught in your throat, this tower of a man standing over you so domineering makes you seem insignificant. Like a large cat ready to pounce on his prey. 
Tears run down your cheeks and you had no will to stop them. Why was he doing this to you? As if to answer your question, the blonde captures your lips and wraps his arms around your trembling form. With a jolt of energy you tried to shove him off you in defiance for your space. “Please stop, I don’t want…” you mumble. Growling, Dio pulls away and glares into your glossy puffy eyes, his brows furrowing when you don’t give in so easily.   
“Pet.” he said through gritted teeth, his hand drifting down to your neck and squeezing rough enough to cut off air supply. “You’re being selfish. All I asked from you in return is your loyalty and to surrender yourself to me.” He picks you up by your neck and amusingly smirks when you gasp and attempt to wiggle free, your hands desperate for air. Your nails grazing his skin with little scratches did nothing to phase Dio, instead he chuckles.
“Funny, isn’t it? The man’s body I’ve taken, the only man I would ever call my equal, possesses the same power as you do.” Black dots formed in your vision and your legs grew tired from flailing. He lets you drop from his grip, and while you sit slumped over and choking on air for your burning lungs, Dio looks down with his ruby hues. “Suppose my interest in you is fate, or perhaps you remind me of him.” Bending down to kneel in front of you, Dio pulls you towards his chest and picks you up bridal-style with very little resistance from you. He smirks and leans in to whisper in your ear “However, your strength will never match his.” 
Dio took flawless strides towards the desk on the other side of the room and pinned you down on your stomach against the harsh oak surface. With the wind knocked out of you temporarily, Dio traced his long nails along the soft chiffon fabric of your golden gown before tearing it to shreds down the middle, revealing your back and ass as the now useless fabric pools at your feet. Looking back at your captor’s sadistic smirk, your bloodshot eyes widen with realization. You were observant, he didn’t need to spell out what his intentions were. 
Almost immediately, Dio parts your legs with his knee and runs his fingers along your slit, examining it’s beauty before he decimates it with his cock. Squirming, you tried to push yourself up from the desk. As weak as you were, you had to try! Even though you knew Dio had more than enough strength to overpower you. As if he read your mind, he takes both of your wrists in his strong grip and pins them against your back. 
“Careful dear, you wouldn’t want me to break your arms, would you?” You stopped your struggling and stilled. It was best to get it over with and maybe if you comply, he won’t be as harsh with you, right? Just let him do what he’s going to do and don’t make it worse for yourself. “That’s better!” He smiles. “Lay there and trust your Lord Dio. Don’t worry about a single thing.” Don’t worry? How can you not? But, you did as he said and Dio goes back to running his fingers along your pussy, this time his index flicking against your clit. 
Biting your bottom lip, you shut your eyes tight. Be strong….be strong…. You chanted, but the small shocks of having your clip played with after being in turmoil for so long, it was difficult to not give yourself over for anything that can make you feel a moment of blissful ignorance. You were convinced that either Dio was a mindreader, or you were just so painfully obvious, but he stops his ministrations with your heat and leans in closer, he carelessly grinds his clothed hardened cock against you. He was quite proportioned. 
“Let’s enjoy ourselves, hmmm?” You shuddered at his words (and sizable bulge), a small whimper escaping you. Pleased with your sudden turn around, Dio leans back and without missing a beat, undoes his pants, allowing his cock weeping of precum to spring free. You swallow down a moan when his cock rubs against your clit, teasing your lips. Your cunt quickly became sloppy, as you were beginning to come around and throw caution to the wind. Dio must’ve noticed, because chuckles and mutters. “Don’t hide your cute noises from me now.”
With his cock soaked with your juices, he thrusts in and you do as he says, allowing a hoarse moan erupt from your throat that’s muffled by your face against the desk. This wasn’t going to do, not for Dio. While thrusting at a brutal pace, he yanks your hair back and lifts your head so he can listen to your lustful melodies more clearly. While you pant like a bitch in heat whenever he hits that spot to make you see stars, Dio releases your wrists in favor of gripping your hip tightly, leaving bruises. 
Gasping, you didn’t move your wrists for fear of your lord stopping or worse. Pleased by your obedience, Dio’s pace quickens, just for him to slow down to a tortuous pace. Flustered you cry “W-Why? Please….please….m-more!” You try to turn your head, but his strong grip keeps you in place. What a wonderful development! Definitely a change in the right direction from how you rejected him a few moments ago. But, Dio wasn’t quite satisfied yet. He wanted your everything, not only your spur-of-the-moment submission. He’s Dio Brando, Lord Dio to his brood. He doesn’t settle for less than satisfactory.
With a grin, Dio knew just how he would achieve this. “You beg so pretty darling, I see you’re finally coming to understand who owns you. But begging isn’t enough.” When he started moving again, this time his cock kissing your cervix, your mouth hung agape in a silent scream. Your thoughts thoroughly scrambled with nothing but the pleasure that Dio was offering you. Hell, you weren’t even coherent when your position changed to you being on your back with your legs spread wide and exposed, only for Dio. 
He picks up his pace, your cunt constricting around him as he pounds into your sore pussy, his hand now free from your hair pressed down your abdomen. He felt the slight belly bulge from him delving into your sweet cunt, simply delicious. “Darling-” He said too sweetly. “- You’re absolutely stunning so full of my cock, but I have a wonderful idea. I didn’t appreciate your attitude this evening, but I know how we can fix that!” You were too fucked out to comprehend his words, but nodded like the dumb slut you were. His dumb slut. “I’m going to breed this pussy of yours, fill you up with my cum, and you’re going to take everything I give you. Wouldn’t that be great? You grow big and round while your breasts are full with leaking milk.” He pauses as his hips sputter, his cock pulsating with the vision of you growling his children within your womb. 
“Yes..I think motherhood will suit you well. Forever my ___.” 
Whimpering, you nod in agreement. Whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop. You were so very close! You mumble a breathy fuck when Dio pushes your legs up to your shoulders, diving in much deeper than before. Chanting strings of curses under his breath, Dio’s hand on your stomach drifts down to vigorously rub your sensitive nub and in almost no time at all you cum around his member, your juices rushing out to soak the desk and his cock. 
“Oh god...oh god...oh god..” you chanted, making Dio’s ego inflate more if that were possible. Smirking, he lets you ride out your orgasm, before picking up the pace yet again, this time losing control of himself for once. Brutally he fucks you, his cockhead slamming against your cervix, as your pulsing walls from your aftershocks urges his throbbing shaft, begging to milk it. After a few final thrusts, Dio stills and his cock paints your womb with his seed. 
He wasn’t done yet. Chuckling at your fucked out expression, it was so much like Dio to push for more. He wanted to mark you, make everyone but mostly yourself to know who you belong to. Your chest will do and his mark will be on full display. Using the nail on his index finger, Dio carves his name into your chest, pebbles of blood dripping down your sweaty and spent body after each scrape was made. When he is done, he admires his work, his name etched into your skin almost makes his cock spring back to life. What was he kidding, he could go a few more rounds anyway. But first, he leans in and laps up the blood, waste not want not right?
“There you are, how stunning. Darling, I wish you could see yourself right now.” Your eyes grew heavy, you were so exhausted and ready for a nap. Dio picks you up and doesn’t bother to cover you with your shredded rags. “No, no, don’t pass out now. We have a long night ahead of us.”
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lokislastlove · 3 years
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Come One, Come All! (Dark!Loki x reader) p.2
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Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.
Warnings: Noncon/Rape, Knife play, Oral (m&f), Smut, Bondage, Kidnapping
This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!
Authors Note: Here is part 2, for those who have taken a chance on my trash, thank you so much!! I hope I don’t disappoint. ❤️
Chapter 2:
You feel your chest seize and you start to shake as your heart rate skyrockets, your body and mind dissolving into a full blown panic attack as you feel around the black box imprisoning you. You are only locked in for a minute before you hear rustling outside and you are thrown into the wall as the whole box shifts and turns.
“What the fuck. Oh my god, someone help! Please let me out!” Your voice cracks as your pleading grows more desperate with each passing minute.
You try to hold out hope that it’s a prank or part of the experience but after what you were sure had to be at least ten minutes of begging to possibly no one, you sag in defeat. Your eyes burn with hot tears, the temperature inside the box rising the longer you sit there. Stewing in silence and sweat, you listen to anything that might tell you where you have been moved to but the joyful bustle of the carnival fades early on.
You fall asleep hunched at the bottom of the box, arms wrapped tightly around your knees. You don’t know for how long but you are awoken roughly as the box tips over sending you face first into the solid surface. You grunt and stretch out, turning to lay on your back.
“Open it” you hear faintly.
The wall above you is ripped off instantly by a singular muscular arm. Startled, you gasp but manage to hold in the pathetic squeak when you look up into piercing blue eyes shrouded in unruly golden hair. Your own eyes widening as you take in the sheer mass of this man.
The muscles under his sun-kissed skin ripple as he huffs and stands straight. He scratches his bearded jaw, looking over to the darker figure you could barely see standing across from him.
“Yes I can see why you liked this one. Inquisitive eyes. A bit of fire in there, yes?” The hulking blond man raises a brow and smirks at you.
Had you not been in your current situation he would have been the type of man you could drool over for days. But considering the fact that you appear to be kidnapped, his physique only enhances your trepidation.
“Where the fuck am I?” You demand, fighting your soft-spoken nature.
“Yeah, there’s that fire” the large man chuckles deeply. “Want me to put her on the wall?” He asks looking back to his silent counterpart.
“The wall?” You mutter, panic rising again at the prospect of being ‘put’ anywhere.
“Yes, then you may go. Thank you , Thor” The darker mans voice drones, sounding bored.
The larger man, Thor, leans down and goes to grab you, making you scream and try to slap away his arms which is clearly ineffective, considering his bicep is the size of your head. He grabs your wrists easily and pulls you to your feet, you try going limp but he hardly seems to notice as he drags you out of the box. You start kicking and flailing wildly as he tosses you against a hard flat wooden surface attached to the wall. You sob as he takes one of your arms and stretches it straight out and snaps a mounted metal cuff around your wrist. You reach over with your free hand and try to unclasp the lock but he catches you and stretches the other arm out to the other side, rendering you completely helpless.
Arms spread wide, you feel exposed and vulnerable, especially when he traces his hand over your breasts before stepping away. That’s when you finally look at the thing you are mounted to. A circular wooden board painted red and white like a giant target, with you at the center.
“What the hell is this?” You tremble.
“Ankles too, for now” the dark suited man directs from across the room.
“Oh, well aren’t you a lucky girl” Thor chuckles under his breath before kneeling down and spreading your legs, attaching each to a similar iron restraint.
“Please. Please let me go” you plead softly to the bulky blond as he stands straight and smiles at you.
Thor brushes his thumb under your eye, catching a stray tear before sucking it into his mouth and humming.
“So sweet.” He praises before winking at you and leaving the room.
Your eyes settle on the lithe figure facing away from you. He’s tall and although he’s not as thick as Thor, you can tell he doesn’t lack strength either. He sheds his jacket and lays it neatly across the desk in front of him.
“If this is s-some sort of joke, it’s not funny” you stutter.
You watch in horror as he slowly turns to look at you, leaning back on his desk and crossing his ankles.
“You’re a clever girl, does this feel like a prank to you, darling?” His voice is as smooth as silk.
“Why are you doing this? Where are my friends?” You question, dreading the answer.
“Oh they will make fine prizes for the highest bidder. But you, darling… you caught my attention.” He explains blithely, slowly unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.
“Lucky me” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him as a wave of anger washes over you at the mention of your friends.
“Indeed.” He smiles cruelly.
“I swear to god if you hurt my friends –“ you fume before getting cut off suddenly.
You barely see the silver glint as something small whizzes through the air toward your head. A sharp silver blade sinks into the board next to your head, the shock causing you to choke on a gasp. It was mere inches away from your eye.
“Care to threaten me again?” He smirks, holding another knife in his right hand, the sharp point of it delicately pressing into the middle finger of his left hand.
You gulp as your body shakes uncontrollably, your life seemed to flash before your eyes in that moment. How did he throw that so fast, you say to yourself, the target behind you making more sense now. You shake your head in response to his question, voice lost amongst the adrenaline coursing through you.
“Very well” he nods once, with a small smile.
Your eyes are glued to the dagger in his hand, as he flourishes it about casually. Your muscles tense every time he tosses it gently in the air before catching it.
“Now, I want to know how you solved those riddles so quickly today” he asks lightly before throwing another dagger, this one splintering the wood inches away on the other side of your head. “And no lies.”
You squeak and close your eyes, body trembling so badly you aren’t sure how to form words anymore.
“I – I don’t know. I just did.” You manage to stammer out. “Please stop.”
Another dagger flies through the air, landing with a thud between your thighs.
“Oh my god, please! Please” you cry.
“You know some people could figure out one, maybe two, within the time limit. Most just get the answers from those who went before them. Others just come back repeatedly, mindlessly searching for the keys. But you… such a clever girl” he purred, pushing himself away from the desk still clutching another knife.
“You can hardly blame me for being curious” he continues, taking slow steps toward you.
He stops before you, admiring your terrified expression before dropping his eyes down your body. You pull on the restraints and shift in discomfort at his close proximity. He smiles as his eyes connect once more with your own, his pupils blown wide.
“I’m sorry, okay. I wasn’t trying to – I won’t ever do it again. Just please let me and my friends go,” you beg.
You watch him smirk and sniff at your pathetic pleas, both fully aware you have nothing to offer. He turns and calmly walks back to his desk.
“Ugh let me go you fucking creep! What do you want from me?” Anger and panic causing you to lash out desperately.
He turns and flings another dagger at you, but this time you feel a sharp pain under your arm. You look over to see the dagger pinning your shirt to the board, slowly staining with blood.
“Oh my god!” You scream shifting your arm away from the dagger. “You cut me!”
“Barely more than a scratch. You’ll survive.” He assured you coolly with a roll of his eyes.
You feel the slow flow of warmth trickle down the underside of your arm and you whimper as you watch him near you again. He stops in front of you and pulls the dagger from the board, releasing your shirt. He admires the blade for a moment and then reaches out to you, making you flinch away. His eyes flare at your reaction and he tuts disapprovingly.
“This shirt, however…” he mocks, sliding the sharp end of the blade under the hem of the fabric along your stomach, “I’m afraid it will not.”
You gasp as he brings the knife up cutting through the flimsy material with barely any resistance. You cry as the cool air breezes over your exposed stomach. The useless cloth hanging loosely off your arms.
“Better” he coos his appraisal, as he glides the tip of the knife from your neck to your navel.
Your chest heaves as the reality set in like a boulder dropping in your stomach. You can’t believe this is how your ‘fun night out’ is going. Cursing your luck as you wonder why the hell your intelligence only seemed to lead you to trouble and scummy men.
“All of this because I solved your stupid riddles” you gripe, shaking your head in bitter disbelief.
“Stupid?” He repeats, his face twisting in disgust at the insult.
“Yeah, what is it? You have a problem with women smarter than you? No, that can’t be it, you’d have to be used to that by now.” You sneer.
You don’t know where this boldness is coming from, but something about this man makes you angry, and you figure, what do I have to lose?
His face twists in anger and he slams the dagger into the wall above your head. Your head is now caged in by three sharp knives and yet you suppress a flinch.
“That, wasn’t so smart, darling.” His lip curls in amusement as he backs off slightly and grips the rounded edge of the board spinning it until you are hanging upside down.
Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen
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jemmahazelnut · 3 years
Text
Two thieves in a trap
Summary: Laxus and Freed are Fiore's two most famous and most sought-after thieves, and they are always in competition, because they set their sights on the same objects. When they find themselves imprisoned together, they will be forced to ally. [Laxus/Freed]
Link: AO3
Fraxus Week 2021, Day 6. Prompt: Rivals team up.
Just a simple and (I hope) funny story, I took inspiration from Lupine III. Hope you like it :)
Two thieves in a trap
-1-
He walked down the long dark corridor until he arrived in front of the room where there was the pocket watch. Laxus took a look inside, beyond the glass doors. The object was inside a display case and there seemed to be no guard. After putting the ones he had found in the hall to sleep, he hadn't had any setbacks and hoped not to find them now. He had already canceled the alarm and took the key that opened the case. It had been child's play, all he had to do was go in for a tour of the museum that afternoon and chat with an absent-minded girl. He had taken her keys and exchanged them for a fake copy, and there he was. Indeed, it had been much easier than expected.
Laxus checked there were no other alarm systems or sensors, but there seemed to be nothing else. At that point he entered and approached the case looking at the pocket watch with a smile. He would finally have it. He put the key in and opened the display case, then took another watch from his pocket that could be mistaken for the real one. Careful not to trigger the sensors he exchanged them and finally took the real one, closed everything and left the room.
Child's play. He walked down the hall to the window he had entered through. He lowered himself with a rope up the wall until he reached the top of his motorbike. At that point he pulled the rope down, but at that moment he heard someone pull the booty out of his pocket. He spun around ready to grab the wrist of whoever he was, but the man had already moved away.
“Justine,” Laxus growled. He wasn't even that surprised: every time that thief showed up to make him nervous. He too was on a motorcycle and was looking at the pocket watch with a satisfied smile.
“Dreyar. I assumed you were here, I was just waiting for you to go out. What can I say, thank you for doing the work for me” having said that Freed put the watch in his pocket and with an arrogant smile started the motorcycle. “Good evening!” he greeted him, and then left in a rush.
“Bastard,” Laxus growled, letting go of the rope and immediately setting his vehicle in motion. In a moment he was off, ready to take his watch back. This time he wouldn’t have given him the victory, that pocket watch was his by right.
He whizzed through the streets following the bike and growled nervously when Freed took a last right turn. He followed him down the narrow alley and gave an acceleration, almost reaching him, but immediately afterwards Freed swerved to the left. Laxus followed him without taking his eyes off the thief. Damn bastard, if he thought he could get away from him, he was very wrong. Laxus managed to flank their bikes and gave a gentle push to make him fall. Freed swore and walked away from him, but just for a while, because Laxus was close by now.
He realized they were approaching the port and smiled as an idea came to mind. If he managed to frame Freed, he wouldn't have a chance to escape. With that thought he came alongside him, forcing him to turn into a small street that would have put him in a trap. Well, with that the race was over. Freed must have realized it too because as soon as he arrived in front of the sea, he stopped, cursing to himself. Laxus smiled.
“Come on, I won. Give me the watch” he said, holding out his hand forward. Freed gave him a dirty look. Laxus knew it wasn't going to be that simple, and he was just curious what that thief would come up with at that point. He had to admit, Freed was good. Not as much as he obviously, but he knew how to juggle discreetly. It was no coincidence that it was Freed who usually caused him trouble, not the cops who couldn't do their job. The long green-haired boy snorted and put his hand in his pocket.
“This time you won” he conceded with a grimace, throwing him the watch. Laxus took it on the fly but a glance was enough to realize that it wasn’t the real one.
“Do you think you're kidding me?” he asked.
“Excuses me?” said Freed feignedly naive. Laxus narrowed his gaze.
“You’ll fool those balls that you take to bed, but not me Justine. Give me the real one and let's close the matter here,” he clarified. Freed, however, certainly didn’t intend to, in fact he tried to escape with the bike but Laxus immediately went on him with his own. The two overturned to the ground and the blond took the opportunity to reach into the thief's coat pocket, took off his watch but he didn’t have time to smile victoriously when Freed threw a punch in the stomach.
“You don't need to be so aggressive,” Laxus said irritably, pushing him away and holding his watch tight. A moment later, however, he heard footsteps approaching. He turned around just in time to see three men, who shot both of them with sleeping pills. A moment later Freed and Laxus passed out.
-2-
He woke up dazed and tried to focus on the things around him. He sat down rubbing his forehead looking around him. He was in a cell. Fantastic, he thought irritably. Thanks to that moron Justine they had been caught. As usual, he found himself in trouble because of that damn thief. In this regard, Freed was also there with him, and he was still unconscious. Laxus continued to look around, outside the cell there was a guard with a transmitter in his hand, staring at them impassively.
“Where we are?” Freed asked as he sat up, also groggy because he had just woken up.
“In a cell,” Laxus snarled in response. “Thanks to you, of course.”
“You were caught off guard too,” Freed retorted. Laxus was about to retort that if he was caught off guard it was Freed’s fault, but he couldn't.
“Which one of you is Laxus Dreyar?” snapped a man who had just arrived, with two guards, one on each side. Freed and Laxus gave him a dirty look and eyed him.
“Why do you want to know?” Freed asked immediately. The man gave him a dirty look.
“Here I ask the questions,” he clarified. “So, move on and answer,” he thundered. Laxus was silent for a moment, assessing the situation. He honestly had no idea what those guys wanted from him. Of course, they weren't cops, so they were more dangerous as they didn't abide by the law. They could easily kill him. But maybe they wanted him because they needed something.
“It's me,” Freed said after a while. Laxus turned stunned to him, wondering what the hell was going through his head. The stranger man nodded briefly and pulled out a gun pointing it at Laxus.
“Very good,” he said.
“Hey bastard, what the fuck are you saying? You hate me so much but now you pretend to be me?” Laxus snapped immediately. Freed raised an eyebrow.
“Pardon?” he said impassively “Here you’re the one who lies.” Bastard, Laxus thought. He had to admit, Freed was really credible. The man in front of them seemed confused for a moment and lowered the gun not knowing what to do.
“Are you deceiving me?” he blurted out irritably.
“I'm not fooling anyone,” Laxus objected. Freed rolled his eyes.
“I admit, you lie well. But I'm the real one here,” he declared with absurd conviction.
“I'll kill you both” the man threatened them. Laxus and Freed tensed slightly but they both remained lucid knowing full well that he’d never do that.
“You need me alive, right?” Laxus asked arrogantly crossing his arms and glaring at him.
“That's right, you were pointing the gun at him. So, it means you need me, and I'm pretty sure it has to do with the pocket watch,” Freed continued undaunted.
“You want to know how it opens, right?” Laxus asked, glaring at his cellmate. That thief was smart.
“But only I know how to do it, because it was my grandfather's,” Freed continued. Laxus was surprised to hear him say so. Did Freed know what that pocket watch was? And how had he managed to find out? Maybe he was just bluffing. Probably he was just bluffing.
“Don't you dare dirty his name,” Laxus growled.
“You're the fake one here,” Freed objected.
“Damn you” growled the obviously furious man. He looked from one to the other, and then pointed the gun at Laxus, who widened his eyes. That was completely stupid. The man glanced at Freed. “Tell me how to open the pocket watch or I'll kill him” he ordered. Freed arched an eyebrow indifferent to the threat. Of course, it wasn't him that the gun was pointing!
“Go ahead, one less hassle in the world,” he said quietly. “Although, I don't know if it's convenient for you, he might be the real one,” he added with a shrug and a sneaky smile. The man growled between his teeth and then lowered the gun and put it back on his belt.
“Very well. You can't run away from here anyway” he clarified “And I'll find out who you are” he said confidently, and then walked away with the two men on his heels.
A guard instead stood there staring at them. It was starting to be creepy. He didn't move at all and almost didn't seem to blink.
“What does he have to look at?” Freed asked.
“What the fuck do I know,” Laxus snapped irritably. He stood up and walked over to the bars, and immediately the guard set off an alarm and more men came. “That's what it's for. How the fuck do you think we can get out of here? You're a bit paranoid,” he said irritably. Freed gave an amused smile.
“Well, they're good. Besides, am I or am I not the most wanted thief in the country?” he asked arrogantly. Laxus gave him a dirty look.
“Iam the most wanted thief,” he retorted immediately.
He sat down again, as those guards otherwise stood there ready for their every little move. They were really paranoid. Well, with good reason actually. Laxus leaned his back against the wall and snorted, not knowing how to get rid of that situation. If more guards came at their slightest movement, it was really hard. He remained silent for not knowing how long, saw the guard take turns with another and glanced at Freed. He too was silent and he too was looking around, probably looking for a way to escape. Laxus hoped he would find it, because he really had no idea how to do it.
More hours passed and Freed suddenly asked if they could feed them, but the guard simply remained silent ignoring him. Freed stretched his legs out in front of him and snorted. Then he turned to him with a strange smile on his face. Laxus arched an eyebrow not understanding what he had in mind. If he had found a way to escape, he had to tell clearly, not make those expressions hoping that he would understand for himself. But then, Freed approached him and took his face in his hands kissing him. Laxus was stunned.
What the fuck?
“Hey, everyone in their place,” growled the guard outside. Freed broke away and smiled at the man.
“Sorry, but I'm bored and since I'm lucky enough to be locked in a cell with Freed Justine, I just can't miss his much vaunted qualities,” he said. Laxus found himself blushing slightly. What did that idiot have in mind?
“Stay in your place,” he growled and he began to fidget. Freed in response sat astride him and took off his shirt. Okay, Freed was completely crazy. Laxus knew that the thief wasn't normal and that he was having too much fun with other men, but he didn't think he would ever get to something like this. They were rivals, for heaven's sake! Laxus started to push him away, but Freed ran his hands around his neck and brought his lips to Laxus’ ear.
“Hold the game,” he whispered. His warm breath sent a shiver down Laxus's body, who didn't know what to do. It's not that Laxus had never been with a man, but that taking initiative in that situation stunned him a little. And he had to admit, even though Justine was a pain in the ass, he was definitely attractive. And if the rumors about him were true… better not think about it.
Freed ran his hands under his shirt, lifting it up and pulling it off immediately afterwards. Then he kissed him again and this time Laxus reciprocated, running a hand along Freed's back. While he was there, he might as well have fun, right?
“I said no filth,” the guard growled. Freed broke away from Laxus and turned back to the guard, sliding his hand dangerously down his abs. Now he was definitely exaggerating, but Laxus didn't want to stop him anyway.
“What are you complaining about? You can enjoy the show,” Freed told. He was crazy, there was no doubt. Laxus knew Freed wasn't serious and he had to have a plan, but honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if they really ended up doing certain things in there just to distract the guard. Freed put his lips on his neck starting to kiss and bite him and Laxus felt another shiver run through him. Okay, he had to stop it before it got too much.
“Make noise,” Freed whispered.
“You're out of your mind,” Laxus muttered careful not to be heard.
“Maybe, but in the meantime, I’ve a plan. Either make a noise or pretend to be attracted by me,” the thief told him. Laxus at that point preferred to do the action and ran his hands directly on his body, placing his lips on him. Freed moaned loudly, certainly louder than he would normally use. The situation was absurd, but Laxus didn't mind at all. He was really starting to enjoy it. He felt the boy's ass, who glanced at him, and the blond grinned.
“You asked me to do it,” he pointed out. Freed didn’t reply and continued to pretend as he began to undo his pants. Laxus stared at his fingers with dilated pupils, but Freed stopped and sat him up, continuing to make loud noises. At that point Laxus roused himself and turned to the guard, who had turned in disgust. Laxus saw Freed take a bobby pin from his hair and approach the bars, while he continued to moan as if he were fucking. In the meantime, Laxus decided to put his shirt back on and got ready to go out. But Freed was taking longer than expected.
“Get moving,” Laxus growled softly in his ear. He got a dirty look and then Freed went back to work. When the lock finally clicked, the two thieves rushed out at the guard. A blow to the head to knock him unconscious and it was done. Together they dragged him to the cell and locked him inside, separating him from the transmitter.
“Well. Finally, out of that cell. Now we just have to get out of here,” Freed said, looking around.
“You go away. I’ve to get the watch,” Laxus growled. He wouldn't leave it there, that was rightfully his. Freed nodded.
“Right, important things first,” he agreed.
“The pocket watch is mine” Laxus snapped immediately.
“Yeah well, we're here together now. I think the best thing is to join forces, rather than walking around alone, this place is… oh shit” Freed said as he started down the hall. Laxus frowned and followed him, but when he caught up with him, he knew what he meant.
“Are we on a ship?” he blurted out in disbelief. How the fuck did they get away from there?
“Apparently. Well, there will be a lifeboat. Come on, the important thing is to be fast and not be discovered, so they’ll notice too late” he said, starting off.
“I know how to be a thief,” Laxus grunted.
“I wouldn't say so since you got your pocket watch blown out from under your nose. And since you didn't contribute much to get us out of the cell,” Freed objected.
“If we're here it's only your fault,” Laxus retorted.
“My fault?” Freed snapped right away.
“Shut up,” Laxus said, hearing voices. He grabbed the thief by the arm and walked into a room locking himself in, closing Freed's mouth. If that guy kept talking, they'd get caught right away. Fortunately, people passed by and Laxus looked around. Fortunately, there was no one in that room. When the footsteps were away Freed wriggled out of the grip.
“You don't need to take me like this, I know when to shut up.”
“You always talk,” Laxus objected.
“I don't always talk, and returning to the topic above, we're here because of you. If you had left me my watch, no one would have caught us and...”
“Shut that fucking mouth,” Laxus interrupted, not taking it anymore and went out into the corridor. Freed snorted but didn’t object realizing that it was better not to be discovered. They walked all the way down the hall until they reached the kitchens. Freed immediately entered hiding behind a trolley and positioning himself under a table. He stole food without being seen by anyone and began to eat quietly, without passing even a piece to him. What an asshole, Laxus thought. Not that he needed his help. Besides, it wasn't exactly the time to have a snack.
The two remained hidden to listen to what those women were talking about. They knew from experience that those gossipers would talk about anything and that was the easiest way to quickly find out what they needed. And indeed, it was so. A waitress was in charge of bringing the food to her boss, so the two didn't even have to talk to each other to decide to follow her and reach the room, where they were sure they would find the watch.
-3-
Freed and Laxus had found a perfect hiding place. Sure, it was a bit tight and they had to be practically stuck together, but at least they were safe enough, no one would see them. They were in a closet in the aisle of the ship, and were forced to sit down due to how low it was.
The two had managed to find the room where the pocket watch was, but it was full of guards and they were thinking about how to enter. It was difficult to avoid them all and they had nothing with them. No weapons, no tricks to use, no disguises.
Laxus tried to move but in doing so, he accidentally nudged Freed, who out of spite repaid him with a knee beside him.
“Do you want to stay still? We're allies for now,” Laxus reminded him.
“You’re the one who started”.
“I did it by mistake,” he replied.
“You're already taking up most of the space, at least stay still,” Freed snarled.
“It's not my fault you're small,” Laxus grunted.
“Small?” Freed asked puzzled and narrowed his eyes “I'm perfectly normal, it's you who are a giant” he pointed out. Laxus put a hand to his forehead in exasperation.
“I can't wait to get out of here” he moaned.
“Me too,” Freed said quickly. “So, did you think of something or do I always have to think?” he asked at that point. The blond gave him a dirty look but nodded.
“Yeah, and my idea is definitely better than yours,” he said, remembering how Freed smeared himself on him. He quickly dismissed the thought before blushing. “There should be sleeping pills in the room next door. Let's take one and use it on the others. They’ll all collapse,” he said.
“How do you know there are sleeping pills?” Freed immediately asked, somewhat skeptical about the plan.
“Because I listen to people when they pass by” was the short and curt reply. At that point they decided to implement the plan, also because they didn’t have many alternatives and definitely time was short. They had to get out of there as soon as possible.
So, the two boys went out and entered the next room, actually, as Laxus said there were some sleeping pills and the blond grinned noticing Freed's irritated expression. They took a couple, along with other items that seemed useful, such as bulletproof jackets, lockpicks, Bulgarian keys, and ropes. Unfortunately, there were no weapons, but since neither of them intended to harm anyone, it wasn’t a big problem.
After that, they walked silently to the room where they knew the pocket watch was. Before getting there, they started the tank so that all the guards were knocked unconscious. That way it was easy enough to get in. Laxus punched a guard inside the room, while Freed immediately jumped on the boss, covering his mouth and pulling the gun out of his hand, throwing it away.
“Give me a rope, I'll tie it up,” Freed said. Laxus stared at him irritably.
“Just hit him on the head” he retorted in a growl as he took the watch and put it in his pocket. Well, he finally had that object in his hands again. Fortunately, Freed followed his advice, knocking out the man. He decided to tie him up anyway and after that the two boys ran out. He didn't know when the guards would wake up, but now surely someone had found out they had escaped.
“This way,” Freed led as he ran towards a corridor. Laxus followed him, the two passed some guards and beat them, a few waitresses who just pushed in part and a few other inhabitants of the ship who looked at them in shock. Finally, they got where they wanted, to take a boat to escape from there. Freed was already boarding a lifeboat when Laxus saw something more interesting.
“What are you doing? Get in quick,” Freed told irritably as he was doing all the work. Laxus, however, smiled amused.
“If you want to get on some shit like that, go ahead, I'll take the yacht,” he told. Freed looked at him for a moment astonished and then followed his gaze and saw the much more beautiful boat. It wasn't big, but still better than any other lifeboat. Freed then followed him.
“I have to admit, for once you had a good idea,” he told.
“I remind you that I was the one who told you how to get the watch”.
“Yeah well, now move on,” Freed said shortly. The two boys thus set to work. They got on the yacht and then dropped down until they reached the sea. At that point Laxus started to drive but Freed preceded him positioning himself in his place.
“I'm driving,” said the blond.
“Why? Can you drive a yacht?” Freed asked skeptically.
“Sure,” Laxus immediately replied irritated by his mocking tone.
“Well, in any case it's better if I drive. You're too slow,” Freed declared. Laxus then grabbed him by weight and shifted him badly, and then he got behind the wheel and set off. A smile spread across his face as the boat sped over the sea, while Freed got up irritated.
“You're really annoying,” he told annoyed.
“As you please. Stop annoying me,” Laxus told in a decidedly good mood. He had the pocket watch, now he also had a yacht, and although he would have preferred that thief Justine not to be there with him, it was not bad to escape like that. Fuck those thieves, whoever they were and whatever they wanted from that watch. Laxus took it from his pocket and looked at it again, smiling slightly. As soon as he opened it, he would find out how to reach his grandfather.
-4-
Since Laxus had started driving, Freed decided to go around the yacht. He discovered that there was food, wine and even deckchairs. “This was really a brilliant idea” he thought pleased as he rummaged through the shelves. At least Dreyar was good at something. He opened a bottle and tasted. While he was there, he might as well have fun, and if that blond preferred to drive, he might as well. Freed would enjoy his vacation.
So, he got food, booze and deck chairs and went outside. He undressed staying in his boxer shorts and lay down comfortably on the deckchair. He began to apply sunscreen, but the yacht stopped. Freed looked up at Laxus and joined him.
“Don't tell me there's no fuel,” he told. Laxus grunted and muttered something incomprehensible. “What?” Freed asked. Laxus continued to mutter and Freed began to get irritated. “Do you want to tell me clearly what’s happening instead of murmuring?” he said irritably.
“I don't know where to go,” Laxus snapped at that point. Freed looked at him for long seconds in silence.
“You got lost?” he asked stunned.
“We’re in the middle of the sea, how the fuck can one orientate himself?” snapped the blond. Freed continued to look at him more and more incredulous.
“So why did you want to drive? You did leave it to me first,” he said irritably taking Laxus's place. “And you’d be the most famous thief in the world? Please,” he hissed more and more nervous.
“You don't even know where we are,” Laxus objected.
“We’re in the Guiltina ocean, just go east and sooner or later we’ll arrive at a coast. It's not very difficult, you know?” Freed retorted irritably as he turned the boat. That idiot had made a mistake at the start. Laxus grunted something incomprehensible and then walked out, sitting on the deckchair grabbing the bottle of wine. “I didn't take it for you,” Freed told badly out loud to be heard. Laxus smiled in amusement as he took a sip, ignoring his words.
“You know what, this yacht was a fantastic idea” said the smug blond, and then undressed himself, spreading sunscreen on his body. Freed turned so as not to look at the bastard having fun instead of him. He was just a profiteer. That deckchair would belong to him, not Laxus. Freed gritted his teeth and muttered something about the worst thief in history.
-5-
It was evening so Freed and Laxus had settled outside to eat. They had found a table, ready-made food and comfortable armchairs. They had turned on the evening lights, so now their table was illuminated by a blue light. Freed thought that the atmosphere would be perfect if there were some nice guys with him. He could have fun in the middle of the sea with food and alcohol at will. For him it was unfortunate that he was there with that thief with no sense of direction. Sure, Laxus was beautiful, and kissing him in the cell was exciting too, but he remained a rival. As soon as they got out of there, Freed would take back his watch and leave, reselling it to that collector who had promised him a nice reward.
Speaking of the pocket watch, he glanced at Laxus. He remembered the conversation they had made with the man who had captured them.
“Why did that man want the watch?” he asked. Laxus shrugged.
“Honestly, I’ve no idea,” he said. “Why do you want it?” he asked him back.
“To resell it” was the immediate reply. It also seemed obvious to Freed to tell the truth. That object was just a watch and he wouldn't have done anything with it. He narrowed his inquiring gaze, because he had the impression that Laxus wanted him for another reason. He doubted it belonged to his grandfather, but surely Makarov Dreyar had something to do with it. “You instead?” he then asked.
“Because it's mine by right” was the simple answer.
“Nothing is rightfully yours,” Freed immediately objected.
“Well, yes. It's been in the Dreyar family for generations, so it’s mine,” he clarified annoyed.
“That won't stop me from taking it,” Freed warned. He had no reason to hide it, Laxus probably already expected it. In fact, the blond rolled his eyes.
“As if I didn't know,” he retorted.
“In any case, I'm sure there’s more. Earlier in the cell you said it can be opened,” Freed recalled.
“It was just to make it clear to the guy that I was the real Laxus Dreyar,” was the arrogant reply. Freed stared at him inquiringly, and Laxus kept his gaze. In any case, there was still something missing. He doubted that the boy wanted an object only because it belonged to the family.
“What's inside?” he asked.
“I said I was lying before,” Laxus grunted.
“Yes sure. Deceive someone else. Come on, I told you what I want to do with it,” Freed said impatiently. Laxus snorted slightly, but then gave up.
“If you want to know so much, in here it says how to reach my grandfather,” he said at that point. Freed frowned slightly. He thought Makarov Dreyar was dead. Laxus must have guessed what he was thinking, because he leaned back and started talking again. “He’s not dead, he just pretended not to have any more trouble with the police. He's old now to be a thief, although I'm pretty sure he still steals wine around,” he muttered. The slight smile that the blond had made at the last comment on his grandfather had not escaped Freed, who looked at him for a moment without words. He hadn't expected something like this. Laxus, however, immediately became serious.
“So, forget I'll let you take it,” he concluded gruffly. Freed resumed his usual grin.
“We'll see this,” he retorted. As much as he didn't want to separate Laxus from his grandfather, he still wasn't about to give up on his money.
-6-
“Aren't you driving?” Laxus asked as he came out of the cabin. Freed didn't look up at him, didn't even open his eyes. It was morning and he wanted to enjoy the first rays of the sun and be quiet on the deckchair at all. They were on a yacht, Laxus wasn’t the only one on vacation.
“Do you. Just go east, if you don't know where it is, follow the sun” he said in response.
“I know where east is,” Laxus growled and Freed found himself smiling amused.
“I doubt it, since you got lost yesterday,” he retorted. Laxus growled and Freed grinned. He enjoyed teasing him, especially after such a gaffe. If Laxus thought Freed would stop reminding him, he was very wrong. He was already thinking about how to enjoy himself at his expense, when he felt himself lifted from the deckchair. Freed opened his eyes in disbelief.
“What are you doing?” he blurted out finding himself in the arms of the blond, who had an evil grin on his face. A moment later Freed found himself submerged in the sea. He emerged spitting water and cursing. For a moment panic enveloped him thinking that Laxus wanted to leave him there, but the blonde just laughed as he looked at him. And while Laxus Dreyar had many flaws, being a sadist and a murderer was not among them.
“You're dead,” Freed hissed in irritation as he reached the ladder to climb up. “Out of your mind, completely out of your mind,” he growled again as he climbed back onto the yacht. Laxus stared at him more and more pleased.
“You woke up now, huh?” he teased him.
“Fuck you,” Freed snapped and Laxus laughed, then set off to drive. Freed gave him a dirty look, while he thought about his revenge. If Laxus thought he would forget about that incident, he was very wrong.
-7-
The next day so Freed had already organized. Since he couldn’t hope to throw Laxus into the water -as much as it cost him to admit it was really difficult to lift that muscular body by surprise- he would have thrown the water on Laxus. If only he had been somewhere else, he would have thought of a better revenge, but they were on a yacht and there wasn't actually much to use. He could have used the food, but he didn't really want to waste it.
So that morning he positioned himself on the roof of the yacht with a bucket of water in part, while he waited for Laxus to come out and position himself on the deckchair. Indeed, when the blond came out, he was ready to relax. He went to the deckchair but then stopped a little confused looking around, probably looking for him. At that point Freed overturned the bucket with the water on him with a pleased smile.
“You woke up now, huh?” Freed teased him. Laxus looked up at him, still shocked and cold. Freed chuckled and rested his chin on his hand looking at him from top to bottom. “I remind you, Dreyar, that no one makes fun of me without getting revenge,” he declared.
“You're an asshole,” Laxus growled.
“You started it,” Freed retorted. The blonde turned to him and then reached out and grabbed his ankle and pulled him down hard. Freed surprised couldn’t react in time that he found himself falling on the hard floor of the boat. He started to get up but Laxus was faster. He grabbed it and walked along the yacht to the edge.
“You won't throw me overboard,” Freed snarled, punching him in the chest. Laxus cursed but didn't let go.
“I'll throw you and let you drown” he retorted irritated, tightening his grip and lifting it ready to make him take a dip. At that point Freed hooked his arms around the blond's neck. He wouldn't let him win, what the fuck.
“If you throw me, you come down with me,” he retorted. He noticed Laxus's face blush slightly at that proximity and at that point Freed also hooked his legs around his hips smiling smugly. The blond was really getting upset. “Although I don't think you'd mind,” he noted in a mischievous tone.
“I don't…” he began but broke off as Freed came even closer. Now they were practically a breath away from each other. Freed looked amused at Laxus' embarrassed expression. He honestly didn't understand how a handsome man like Laxus was so socially incapable, but to be honest that made him even prettier in his eyes. He was surprised at his own thoughts of him, in what light was he seeing Laxus? Of course, Freed had noticed from the first time he had met him how handsome he was, he also knew that Laxus was very cunning and respected him as a thief, even if he enjoyed making fun of him. They had similar morals and when Laxus had told him about his grandfather the night before Freed had felt a certain empathy but… he remained a rival. Right?
“You can break away, I'm not throwing you overboard,” Laxus growled interrupting his thoughts. Freed raised an eyebrow and noticed that he was no longer at risk of diving. The blond had moved and now they were inside the yacht. At that point Freed got out and put his feet back on the ground.
“You know Dreyar, if you wanted to have sex with me, I wouldn't mind at all” he told him plainly, knowing full well that he would embarrass him even more. To tell the truth though, Freed was honest.
“Go woo someone else,” the red-faced blond growled and irritated. Freed chuckled.
“It's a bit difficult on this yacht in the middle of the sea,” he pointed out.
“Stop pissing me off” growled the increasingly nervous blond.
“You’re too agitated. You can admit that you find me attractive, you wouldn't be the first and I wouldn't be offended”. Laxus gave him a dirty look, then turned and went into the cabin to drive. Freed considered whether to follow him and tease him a little longer, but then decided that relaxing on the deckchair was much better. When he lay down and closed his eyes, a sincere smile appeared on his face. Laxus was not bad as an adventure companion.
-8-
Laxus finally saw the coast. Oh well, finally. After those two days he had spent with Freed he was starting to feel too agitated being in such a tight space with his rival. Rival, yes, better to think of Freed like this, because if he thought of him as a companion in adventures, his thoughts began to take a bad turn. All the fault of the oddities of that green-haired thief. That guy wasn't normal, not that Laxus didn't already know, but after those days with him, he was sure. He glanced at the boy who was lying in his boxers on the deck chair and tried not to dwell too much on his sculpted torso. In any case Laxus needed his help, because he didn't know where to stop the yacht. He had to get to a port or something.
“Justine, come here,” he ordered. Fortunately, Freed didn’t reply and joined him.
“We're almost there,” he noted.
“Yes, we have to dock,” Laxus said.
“And you don't know where the port is,” Freed imagined and Laxus snorted.
“I'm just tired of driving,” he retorted, not wanting to admit it. Freed rolled his eyes, probably didn't believe him but said nothing. So, the blonde let him drive.
Shortly thereafter the yacht approached a small bridge over the sea. It wasn't quite a port, but it was better that way. At least no one would ask questions. Laxus checked that he had the watch in his pocket, and looked at it to make sure it was the real one and that Freed hadn't mistaken it for a fake one. It was the real one though. He put it back in his pocket and decided to be careful not to let it be stolen.
“Finally,” he said as he got off the yacht and set foot on land. Freed followed him as he tied the boat to the dock.
“Yeah, although this holiday wasn’t bad,” said the green-haired thief, stretching his arms. Laxus gave him an inquiring look, wondering what his intentions were. He knew from experience that Freed had no qualms, he could fuck his watch and somehow escape. That's why he didn't let his guard down, their time as allies was now over. They were again free to go wherever they wanted.
“Well, bye,” Laxus commented harshly as he turned around.
“Bye bye,” Freed said friendlier. Laxus frowned and slipped his hand back into his pocket, surprised to hear the thief greet him so quietly. But the pocket watch was still there. Laxus turned to Freed, staring at him inquiringly. There was something strange, or he had deceived him and didn't notice, or that guy had crazy ideas in his head. The thief had an amused smirk on his face.
“If you’re afraid that your watch will be stolen, you can rest assured,” Freed said. Laxus stared at him somewhat skeptically. Since when did he let him win so easily? “After all, I found a yacht, there’s still enough food to have a nice vacation” he commented.
“Why should you leave me the watch?” Laxus asked inquiringly. Sure, the yacht remained a good booty, but it was nothing compared to the money he could have earned by reselling the watch.
“Because I'm a gentleman” was the immediate reply. Laxus raised an eyebrow ready to retort, but Freed walked over to him and took his hand leaving a kiss on it and throwing him an inviting smile. Laxus froze suddenly feeling a chill rise from where Freed's lips had rested for the rest of his arm. “As you can see, I know how to make a man fall at my feet,” Freed declared, letting go of his hand. Laxus blinked in confusion and felt his face warm up.
“You’re a thief and an arrogant” he retorted although not fully convinced. And he still didn’t understand why he left the watch to him. It all became clearer when Freed replaced the conceited smirk with a sincere smile. He reached out and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips, causing his stomach to flutter. He pulled away soon after and Laxus was stiff and stunned, even though it had only been a few seconds. He was surprised to see a slight blush on Freed's face. He hardly believed it possible that thief could get embarrassed.
“And you deserve to see your grandfather,” the boy said softly. Laxus swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes off Freed's.
“Thank you,” he murmured not believing his own words. Freed just smiled sweetly at him, then took a step back and resumed his usual arrogant expression as he climbed back onto the yacht.
“Let me be clear, this is the only time. At the next robbery, I won't leave you a penny,” he clarified as he untied the rope. Laxus smiled slightly.
“At the next robbery I'll kick your ass,” he retorted.
“I doubt it. In any case, I can't wait to fuck your next booty from under your nose, Laxus” Freed greeted him. Laxus didn’t miss the fact that he had called him by name and smiled as he watched the boy get behind the wheel and drive away.
“I can't wait too,” he murmured to himself, watching the yacht go away.
This is my latest Fraxus Week submission, thank you for reading, and for any comments and kudos you leave.
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Kost Aban as a Companion
(Face Claim: Brant Daugherty) Kost Aban, Road Dad of the Inner Circle and Magesmith for the Inquisition. He’s charming and sweet, and he’ll handle requisitions so you never have to worry about that Requisition Officer ever again. Also he makes travel snacks as well as serves as a portable weapon and armor crafting station. Did I mention he’s romanceable?
Companion Name: Kost Aban (lit. “Peaceful Ocean” in Qunlat) Race, Class, and Specialization: Qunari Mage (Rift Mage) Varric’s Nickname for Him: Shiny (for his horn ornaments) Default Tarot Card: Page of Wands
How He Is Recruited: His adopted human son, Roland, a young man of about 22, will rush out into the plaza in Val Royeaux on the first visit and request the Inquisitor come meet his father. Kost will immediately offer his services as a magesmith to the Inquisition, as well as his son’s skills as an apprentice. If the Inquisitor is a Qunari, he will also mention that sometimes it helps to have a friendly face around that one doesn’t have to look down to see. Where He Is In Skyhold: With his son, Dagna (and conditionally) Harritt in the Undercroft. He can generally be found talking smithing techniques or occasionally insisting Roland and Dagna go get refreshments and sunlight because they’ve been working too long. If he is recruited, he will also set up a cozy-looking sitting area/lounge in the Undercroft. Things He Generally Approves of: Upgrading Skyhold, completing Dagna’s sidequests, not siding with the Qunari, showing mercy Things He Generally Disapproves of: Siding with the Qunari, executing prisoners, siding with the Templars Mages, Templars, Other? As a mage himself and a former Saarebas, Kost definitely approves of siding with the mages and giving them freedom.
Romanceable? Yes, by any gender or race.  Friends in the Inquisition: Blackwall, Sera, and Cole. He befriends Sera through Dagna, Blackwall because of their shared enjoyment of crafting, and Cole because Kost can’t help but adopt the kid. He becomes friends with Iron Bull if the Chargers are saved. Small Side mission: Collect 10 dawnstone and 10 bloodstone. Kost will Greatly Approve and unlock schematics for Magewrought Weapons
Companion Quest: Kost is happy to have his son working with him but wonders whether Roland might prefer a different career or perhaps to attend the University of Orlais. He once caught Roland studying magic books and worries that he’s pressuring him into apprenticeship. He asks the Inquisitor to speak to Roland instead. When confronted, Roland admits that he’s been studying magic books so that he can tinker and improve his prosthetic arm, but he didn’t want to offend his dad, who spent years working on the magical formulae. He asks the Inquisitor not to tell.
Option 1: Tell Kost - This will net Great Approval from Kost and Cole, and Kost will talk to Roland and say that he couldn’t be offended that Roland is so interested and asks for them to proceed together with the tinkering. Father and son embrace and thank the Inquisitor
Option 2: Cover for Roland - The Inquisitor has the choice of telling Kost that Roland was merely curious about the process of magic or lie and say the magic books were hiding naughty material. Either way Kost will agree to let the matter drop.
Cole’s Reflection on His Thoughts: “The mask is gone and the bonds broken, burnt away and banished. My voice shall never more lie lost and leashed, locked away behind bars of word and deed.” Comments on Mages: “I know what it is like to be born different, and I once knew nothing more than imprisonment and shame for what I was. I have nothing but sadness to know that even here, others share my fate.” Comments on Templars: “If your protector is also your jailer, I think you have somewhat of a conflict of interest.” When looking for something: “Listen... there is something...” When finding a campsite: “Allow me to whip up a little something from these field rations.” When he is low on health: “I will not make my son an orphan again!” When he sees a dragon: “Not that I’m saying we should fight it, but... I could make some seriously good stuff out of dragon bone and hide.” Default saying: “Do you think Roland’s doing alright?”
Travel Banter:
Vivienne: So, Ser Aban. I have heard much of your magesmithing techniques. The Formari believe you are usurping their dominance over the market. Kost: I’m afraid, Madam, the Formari are mistaken. I happen to make useful items, not decoration. Vivienne (amused): Indeed? Then you must prize function over form in your pieces. Kost: Of course. I want to keep people alive, even at the cost of fashion. Vivienne: Some costs are worth dying for, darling.
Kost: I didn’t get the chance to thank you, Blackwall. Blackwall: What for? Kost: The extra firewood. My forge requires more than a normal smithy to stay working, and you provided. Blackwall: Wasn’t for you specially. I... I like chopping wood. Kost: And teaching my son how to swing an axe played no role? Blackwall: Oh. Kost: Too many people treat him as though he’s useless. I saw how happy he was with you. So as I said. Thank you... for the firewood. Blackwall: ...you’re welcome. Kost: There’s a magewrought sword with your name on it when we return to Skyhold.
(If Cole was made more human) Kost: You don’t have to handle everything, you know. You changed, right down to the core. Cole: I am fine. Kost: Sure, sure. Just as long as you know you don’t have to be. We’ve got you, Cole. Starting with rest. I got you a spare blanket - I’ve seen you shivering in your sleep. Cole: But I don’t- Kost: I’ve seen what you do for people. You’re not invisible anymore, you know. So it’s time you let someone else help you. Do you mind it if it’s me? Cole: I... th-thank you.
Iron Bull: You don’t like me much, do you? Kost (sarcastically): I didn’t know you were going for universal popularity. Iron Bull: Ha. You talk like one of these Orlesian bigwigs. Too important to waste time on mercs? (If the Inquisitor is a Qunari) And what about being “a friendly face,” huh? Kost: You won’t get a reaction out of me, Ben-Hassrath. Iron Bull: Even a lack of reaction is a reaction. Kost: Fuck you. How’s that for a reaction?
Friendship: “Ah! Come here for a shield or a cup of tea and some chat? Either way, I’m at your service.”
The Fade
How he reacts: “Oh, I’m not enjoying this at all.” Their Tombstone: Bereavement What the Fears look like: Himself in the mask and chains of a Saarebas What the Nightmare says: “The so-called peaceful ocean. I’ve been watching you for years now. The eyes of the Qun are everywhere and now, there’s nothing you can do to deflect their gaze.” Their reflection about the Fade: “Never again. Never.” Hawke or Warden: Depends on Hawke’s actions. If Hawke sided with the Chantry in DA2, Kost will suggest that they are responsible for the Qunari improving their foothold and force and believe they should atone in the Fade. If not, Kost suggests the Qun’s respect for Hawke is one of the only things keeping the Qunari from invading and believes they should escape the Fade.
The Wardens
Their feelings: Believes the Wardens make hard choices to save the world from the Blight. Exile or Allies?: Allies
The Ball
How they feel: “It isn’t my first ball, but I’m surprised at how many people I know, here. Babette de Launcet just tried to poach me from the Inquisition!” Where they linger: The garden balcony, near the bard singing in Orlesian Are they good at the Game?: He’s not great at being fake, but he is good at schmoozing, especially since his smithing skills are an avid topic of discussion. What people say about them: “Did you see the Magesmith walking by? So tall and dashing...””You do realize he is a Qunari, don’t you?” “My dear, that’s all part of the appeal. Imagine those burly muscles sweating at a forge...” Gaspard, Briala, or Celene?: Briala, or Celene with Briala - he fears Gaspard in power most of all, and he’d hate if war broke out between Orlais and Ferelden with the Qunari lurking at the borders.
Temple of Mythal
Rituals or Hole?: Rituals Agree with the Elves’ bargain?: Agree. Morrigan or Inquisitor for the Well?: The Inquisitor
Comments on Canon Romance
Cassandra: “The Seeker? A worthy choice. Though... I can’t help but wonder whether she’d choose love over duty should the time come.” Dorian: “Dorian? That must be fun - I hope he doesn’t criticize the patterns of your britches!” Sera: “Roland likes Sera - I think you two will get up to all sorts of mischief together.” Iron Bull: “Bull? Well... you do remember he was a Qunari spy, right? Never mind, I’m sure you know what you’re doing.” Josephine: “Don’t you hurt her, Inquisitor. She’s a wonderful person and a light in this world.” Cullen: “You know, I can craft certain soft lamps for the night. I’ve seen the look of a man who doesn’t sleep much on his face. Perhaps it will help.” Blackwall: “Tell me, I’m curious. Is the beard scratchy?” Solas: “D’you know, he hates tea? Suspicious, if you ask me.”
Sexual/Racial preference:  Any race or gender. Nickname for PC: Little One Romance only mission: (Can only be completed after Kost’s love confession) A cutscene featuring Kost and the Inquisitor in bed plays, involving a pillow talk discussion where Kost says “I love you.” The Inquisitor can choose to say it back or not, and ask about his past. The conversation finishes with Kost suggesting marriage would be more than acceptable to him, although he wouldn’t pressure the Inquisitor into it. The quest involves speaking to Kost’s son Roland to get his blessing to propose to Kost. The Inquisitor must perform a War Table mission to get Roland some parts to aid in the proposal, which will affect the next cutscene. If Cullen is chosen, Roland will be given some explosives and dyes and he will shoot fireworks during the proposal. If Leliana is selected, smoke pellets will be given and Roland will make a clockwork smoke machine to give a mystical air to the proposal. If Josephine is chosen, Roland will meet with some bards and make a music box to play while the Inquisitor proposes. The Inquisitor will then meet with Kost in the Skyhold garden at night and propose, choosing dialogue options that are sweet, nervous, or humorous, all resulting in Kost accepting the proposal and promising to marry the Inquisitor and love them forever - once Corypheus has been dealt with.
Dialog to being asked for a kiss: “Did you come down here just for this? How romantic... I must make it worth your while, little one.”
Halamshiral dialog: “Of all the magnificence in this palace... I can say without exaggeration that nothing compares to you.”
Being asked to dance during mission: “Josephine would kill me if I kept you from some diplomat or duke. But I shall gladly sacrifice myself once you have made your rounds.”
Asking to dance post-mission: “I- I warn you, little one, I’m not very good. But I’d do anything for you.”
What Cole says about companion to PC: “There was always darkness behind the mask, both of the masks he’s worn. But now it is safe and soft. Now there is you.”
Who is concerned about the relationship?: Vivienne. Josephine (for political reasons)
Who supports the relationship?: Blackwall, Dorian, Cullen
Who had a bet running on it?: Cassandra, Sera
Banter(between NPCs):
Vivienne: (after the romance only mission) I understand I am to offer you and the Inquisitor congratulations? Kost: We are engaged, yes. Vivienne: I do hope you understand what you are doing. Kost: I understand that I am in love. I understand that I am loved in return. And I understand that political considerations do not matter to me when I am with the Inquisitor. Does that satisfy you, Madam? Vivienne: Satisfy? No. Please me? Quite. I wish you every happiness.
Blackwall: You’ve... been around a while, haven’t you? Kost: Er... yeah? Blackwall: And the Inquisitor doesn’t mind? Not that it’s a problem, not that I think it’s a problem or anything, just- Kost: Ser Blackwall, do you have your eye on someone younger than you? Blackwall: What? I- where would you think tha- no. Kost (teasing): Fascinating. You blush right through your beard! Blackwall (groaning playfully): Oh, piss off!
Sera: You and the big man, eh? Hehe, because- Kost: Sera. You’re not subtle. Vivienne (if present): My dear, your lack of tact is simply appalling. Sera: Rolly likes you too, yeah? You better not hurt his dad or you know what? Kost: It’s arrows, isn’t it? Sera: Arrows!
Flirt options: Upon reaching Skyhold and unlocking the Undercroft, Kost will be ecstatic at the sight of the new smithing area and the Inquisitor can say he looks adorable when excited. This opens up a dialogue option later to begin romancing him.
If PC breaks it off: “Ah. I- uh. Of course. I hope I haven’t done anything to offend you. I shall continue to help the Inquisition as best I can.”
Love confession: Kost will ask to take a walk with the Inquisitor and they will end up on the battlements. Kost will talk about his life as a smith and as a father and say that he never seemed to end up with anyone to love and romance... until the Inquisitor. He says he hopes he didn’t read the situation wrong, but that he has fallen hopelessly for them.
Romanced tarot card: King of Pentacles
End game dialog: “Isn’t that something? No matter how hard I tried, I could never forge something as beautiful as a sunrise. I could never capture that kind of beauty. And yet... it is nothing compared to your face. The sun rises and sets each day without fail, but I promise to be even more constant for you - I am with you.”
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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years
Text
April Contest Submission #25: Break Free
Words: ca. 6,600 Setting: canon AU Lemon: no CW: Imprisonment, Torture, Injuries (but no graphic detail), Abuse, Mentioned Kristanna, Mentioned Character Death, actual character death, violence (choking). Mentions of slavery
 xXx
“Anna… Anna…”
The redhead’s eyes slowly opened at the sound of a familiar voice, as she was brought out of another horrific nightmare.
“Are you awake?” A voice spoke.
Weakly, Anna nodded. “I take it, that’s you there, Elsa?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
Anna groaned, getting out of bed. For the past year, she had been a prisoner in the Southern Isles, kept as a trophy by King Hans. Everything had been taken from her, her friends, family, even her kingdom.
The cell was dark and filthy, with only one bed. The floor was stone, cold on Anna’s bare feet. The dungeons were on the lowest level of the castle, Anna’s cell having a window overlooking the ocean, the sound of the waves crashing against the rockface often keeping her up at night.
Lamenting her situation, Anna hoped she wouldn’t spend the rest of her life here. She was a Queen and a warrior, she didn’t deserve to die in a dungeon-like this. She should have died defending Arendelle with honour… but Hans had denied her that.
As Anna got up, she sighed, rubbing her eyes. She missed the days when she actually had a good nights sleep. As she climbed off her bed, she saw the door to her cell open, the familiar sight of a blonde-haired woman in uniform walking into the cell. It was indeed Elsa, Hans’s second in command, the woman who had led the attack on Arendelle… and if Anna was honest, her only real friend.
"Nightmare again?” Elsa wondered.
“The same one I’ve had for the last year,” Anna remarked.
Elsa sighed. “I’m so sorry.” Then she cleared her throat. “Prince Hans has requested your presence at breakfast, your majesty,” one of the guards said. “You are to come with me.” “He should give up,” Anna replied. “I’m not going to give in to his demands.” “Even so, you have to eat something,” Elsa insisted. Knowing Elsa was right, Anna got up. She needed to keep her strength up, what little of she still had. “Fine,” Anna agreed reluctantly. Walking out of the cell, she let Elsa lead her down the corridor, her weakened legs barely keeping her standing straight. She looked at the sorceress, confused about how she felt.
Elsa had been responsible for so much pain in her life, and yet, she had also visited her cell pretty much every single day. Anna didn’t know why, but perhaps she was just as lonely as she was. It was clear no one really talked to Elsa, aside from Hans.
But Anna still felt a sense of unease around her. She had watched her kill so many people in her dreams and yet, the real Elsa wasn’t as cold as she imagined.
The real Elsa actually had a kind heart to her, and it was clear that she did care about Anna. But Anna would never forget what Elsa had done, despite the fact they were friends.
She remembered the day Arendelle fell like it was yesterday, reliving the images of the invasion every night, seeing friends and loved ones slaughtered every time she closed her eyes. Every night in her dreams, the images would be warped and distorted, portraying Elsa as some kind of inhuman monster, who had brutally murdered her husband. But Anna had a feeling her dreams were just exaggerations, brought on by her trauma.
For much of her life, Anna hadn’t really been given much of a childhood. When she was a baby, enemy spies had kidnapped her older sister, forcing her parents to keep her locked in the castle for much of her young life.
As Anna grew up, her mother and father put her through all sorts of training to protect herself, to ensure what happened to her older sibling would never repeat itself. By the time Anna was eighteen, she had already served a couple of years in the kingdom’s royal guard. By age twenty-two, she had attained the rank of officer. But that was not the last title that she would be known by.
Her parents tragically died at sea a year later and as such, Anna assumed the throne as Queen. Most assumed it was just a really bad storm. Anna hadn’t taken the news well and it was only afterwards, she knew the truth about her lost sibling.
But even though she deeply mourned her parents, she carried on, later taking a husband. Kristoff was a kind man, he had a large heart and it was his love that made Anna feel so alive and helped her to love life again.
But just as tragically, this bliss was not to last. The Southern Isles, who had been expanding their territories, had wanted to Anna to surrender her kingdom to them. Despite knowing they had a secret weapon that had allegedly wiped out entire kingdoms, she wanted Arendelle to go down fighting.
So much for that, since her forces were completely wiped out, but she’d heard rumours that many of the civilians had managed to survive as refugees elsewhere.
“I take it you didn’t sleep well,” Elsa assumed, bringing Anna out of her thoughts.
“Is that sarcasm?” Anna responded. “I didn’t think you had a sense of humour.”
“I take no amusement from your treatment, Anna,” Elsa stated. “But… you did bring this on yourself. Hans gave you a guest room to stay in when you arrived, a rather luxurious abode I might add.”
“It was still a cell,” Anna replied. “I’m still a prisoner in this castle, regardless of how I’d be treated.”
“But it would have been preferable compared to what you’re going through down here,” Elsa expressed.
Soon, Elsa brought Anna to the royal dining hall, where Anna could see a great banquet of food laid out for her. She felt her stomach growl at the sight of it.
Hans himself was sat at the end of the table facing her, her father’s crown upon his head and a smug look on his face. Glancing at him enraged Anna, the sight of her oppressor reminding her of her suffering.
“Ah, your majesty,” Hans greeted her, as Elsa took a seat on the edge of the table next to him “You must be famished.”
Anna sat down, taking a bite of a slice of beef that had been placed on a plate for her. As much as she hated submitting to Hans this way, she was starving and Hans knew this. But she wasn’t going to let him take advantage of her.
Hans just smirked knowingly, as if he was mocking her. “Tell me, my dear, how have you been doing?”
Anna glared at him, just eating her food.
“I said… how have you been doing, Anna?” Hans asked again.
In response, Anna just muffled something while she was eating.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s rather rude,” Hans snarked
Anna swallowed. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Oh come now, Anna. You’ve been our guest for a year, I would think you were a tad more sociable by now.” Hans forked a piece of sausage into his mouth. “I hope you’ve once again reconsidered my decision.”
“I am not going to become your wife, Hans,” Anna said defiantly. “I’m not some property for you to own.”
“Come now, if you agree to marry me, you’ll be given riches beyond your wildest dreams and be adored by the people,” Hans offered. “Plus, you won’t need to suffer in those dreadful dungeons any longer.” Anna looked over at Elsa, seeing the blonde staring at her with concern. It was clear at this point that Elsa wanted Anna to fake her own surrender, as Elsa couldn’t bear to see Anna this way. But Anna wouldn’t do that. It would go against everything she stood for.
“I already had people who loved me… your soldiers took care of them,” Anna remarked. “And why would you care? I’m sure Elsa here would make a much better Queen than me.”
Hans chuckled. "I care about Elsa a great deal and I would not want the burden of Queen to be placed on her. Besides, she prefers women and I would not wish to make her… uncomfortable.” Anna noticed how saddened Elsa seemed to be from that subtle insult. Despite the abuse, she still followed Hans loyally without question. In a way… Anna felt sorry for her, that Elsa was as much of a prisoner as she was.
Putting down her cutlery, Anna glared at Hans.  "And what about me, Hans? If you care about me so much, why am I whipped, beaten and starved so much?”
“You refuse to behave,” Hans growled. “I’m honestly reconsidering why I even let Elsa take you in alive when I easily could have let you die with the rest of your pathetic kingdom.“
Enraged, Anna snarled, grabbing a knife and lunging at Hans. She knocked him to the ground, trying to jab the knife into his eye. But being starved so much meant that Anna’s strength was nowhere near how it used to be and as such, Hans got the advantage.
Anna tried to stab the knife, but Hans managed to dodge it, the knife merely grazing his cheek. He snarled, punching Anna in the face. Anna stumbled back to her feet, dazed, before Hans got up and slapped her, knocking her to the ground.
Elsa got up, watching as Anna writhed on the floor, groaning in pain.
"Even after all this time, you’re still a disobedient little harlot,” Hans murmured. “Elsa, take her down to the dungeons for punishment.”
"Yes, my lord,” Elsa responded, going to Anna’s side.
As Hans left the room, Anna glared at the man, cursing herself for not being strong enough. She was clearly not the great warrior she once was.
xXx
The punishment was a whipping, as usual. Anna was chained to the wall and whipped by one of Hans’s guards, yet another tactic used by him to try and break her mentally. To be honest, sometimes Anna wondered if Hans had succeeded and she hadn’t realised it, but some part of her would still keep fighting on.
Elsa was there every time, watching the punishment take place, watching Anna as was made to suffer in agony. But eventually, the pain was over, Anna shaking as she ached in chains.
It amazed Anna that she even had enough strength to try and tackle Hans in the dining hall, but she hated herself for not being able to finish the job. Still, she wouldn’t succumb to this agony, no matter how painful it was. Even with her dying breath, she’d deny Hans that satisfaction.
Knowing that Anna had been through enough, Elsa looked at the guard, nodding. “That’s enough, soldier. You can go now.”
The guard left them, Elsa going up to Anna and undoing the chains around her arms and legs. Anna collapsed to the floor, quivering as Elsa walked over to her.
“It’s over now,” Elsa spoke, handing Anna a waterskin.
Shivering, Anna gently held the pouch in her hand, gulping the water down. She gulped down the water as fast as she could, before panting, as sweat beaded down her body.
“You… You’re gonna get in trouble for helping me like this,” Anna said shakily, her throat dry.
Elsa looked away. “What Hans doesn’t know won’t hurt him. To be honest, I’ve been wondering why you’re even still here. It’s clear that no matter what, you’re not going to break.”
“I won’t break,” Anna insisted.
“That’s a rather arrogant way to look at things,” Elsa noted. “You’ve been pushed beyond your limits. I’m surprised you haven’t died yet.” She then bent down and helped the struggling Anna to her feet. “Let me help you. I’ll take you back to your cell.”
Anna merely nodded as Elsa helped her. She was surprised the sorceress was so kind to her at times, as if the person who had helped destroy Arendelle and the person helping her now were two completely different people.
“I admire your strength,” Elsa spoke. “Most people would have either gone mad or died from the torment you’ve been put through.”
“My parents raised a strong daughter,” Anna replied.
Eventually, the two of them arrived at Anna’s cell, Elsa unlocking the door.
“We’re here,” she said. “You should rest.”
Anna hobbled inside, eventually making it to the bed and collapsing upon it. Much of her body now was covered in scars from the torture Hans put her through constantly. As she laid on the bed, she saw that Elsa was still standing there.
“What are you doing?”
“I… I don’t know,” Elsa expressed. “I wish I could do more to help you.”
“You could have told Hans not to whip the piss out of me,” Anna remarked, trying to use humour to disguise her pain.
Elsa shook her head. “No, I can’t disobey Hans. If it wasn’t for him I…” The blonde stopped herself. “But maybe there is something I might be able to now to help you relieve that pain.”
Anna sat up, looking away. “Why do you care about me so much? I’m just a prisoner to you.”
“Perhaps… perhaps you’ve helped me to discover my humanity,” Elsa admitted. “You’re a rather… fascinating woman, Anna of Arendelle.”
“I’m surprised you have some,” Anna argued. “I still see you killing Kristoff in my dreams every night, leading the assault on Arendelle. In my dreams, you’re a cold, unfeeling monster.”
“And is that what I really am?”
“I… I don’t know,” Anna admitted. “You give me mixed messages. Some days I think you’re a friend and others, I’m reminded you’re a monster.”
Elsa walked into the room, sitting down on the bunk opposite Anna. “He attacked me from behind. I… I actually tried not to kill everyone. But Kristoff, he came at me with that spear and… ” She looked away. “I regret that.”
“What?” Anna wondered. “What are you talking about?”
“I wanted to win that battle with minimal casualties,” Elsa stated. “But everything went wrong. I regret what I did to you, and to your kingdom.” She looked into Anna’s eyes. “I even let most of the civilians go when I found them in the forests outside your kingdom. They didn’t deserve to die… no one did.”
"Is that… true?” Anna asked. “You’re not lying?”
“No, I haven’t lied to you,” Elsa expressed. “I’ve been good to you this past year to try and make up for the fact I destroyed your kingdom. I hoped… I hoped that perhaps if I befriended you, that life here would be better for you. It was obvious you and Hans wouldn’t get along but perhaps if you had me…”
Anna thought for a moment. She had a gut feeling that Elsa was indeed telling the truth.  Anna had misjudged Elsa slightly. Hans was clearly using her as merely a weapon, not truly caring about her as a person. After all, in war, soldiers often were forced to fight, not given a choice to leave.
And in Anna’s eyes… Elsa had shown she was a kind person. A complicated one, but her actions of mercy and care for her had shown her humanity. And yet, her visage still haunted her dreams.
“I… I think I can forgive you,” Anna accepted. “But… part of me will always be angry towards you for what you’ve done. But it’s clear that perhaps you’re on the path of change.”
“That means a lot to me,” Elsa admitted. “ I don’t blame you for still partly being angry over what I did to your husband. You don’t have to completely absolve me of this.”
“I am not,” Anna said honestly. “But perhaps I can move on. Even if the image of you slaughtering so many with your magic is etched into my mind… it’s clear that’s not you anymore.”
“Then… allow me to assure you that I have changed,” Elsa spoke after a moment, slowly taking off her gloves. “If you’ll let me?”
“What are you going to do?”
“Just lay on your stomach and I’ll do the rest,” Elsa said softly. “Do you trust me?”
For a moment, Anna almost said no, but Elsa had clearly opened her heart to her and been honest to her. She was genuine and wanted to help Anna and if Anna was to try and move on with all of this, trust between her and Elsa was important. She nodded, laying down on her back.
Elsa then reached over to Anna, pressing her hands on Anna’s back, her cold icy magic soothing Anna’s skin.
“Uhhh…. what are you…”
“Using a bit of my magic to relieve your pain,” Elsa said. “It’ll allow you to rest better.”
Sighing in content, Anna felt relaxed as Elsa applied pressure to her aching back and legs. It was almost enough to make her forget where she was, but no matter how much Anna wanted it, she was still a prisoner in this dungeon.
After massaging Anna for a while, Elsa looked over at her. “You okay now?”
“Mm, much better,” Anna purred. “Have I ever told you that you have hands like a surgeon?”
Elsa chuckled, to Anna’s surprise.
“You… you laughed!” she exclaimed.
Her friend stopped, a little embarrassed. “Sorry… I can’t remember the last time I found anything funny.”
Anna sat up and looked into Elsa’s eyes. The two of them were but inches apart and at that moment, as Anna was relaxed, she gazed at Elsa. Her gorgeous blue eyes almost glowed in the sunlight, and her platinum blonde, nearly white hair looked as soft as silk.
In all this time, had Anna really not considered how beautiful Elsa was? At that moment, a strange new sensation started to form inside Anna’s chest. Not anger, not a desire to never give up, but… something else, some sensation of her wanting Elsa, wanting the two of them to try and make something of all this.
And then… Anna leaned in and kissed Elsa. It was a brief moment, Anna succumbing to whatever this sensation was inside of her, before quickly pulling away. “I’m sorry!”
Elsa stroked her lips. “I… It’s okay.”
“No… I didn’t mean to do that,” Anna argued.
Nodding, Elsa stood up. “I… I should go,” she said to break the tension. “You should rest, conserve your strength and whatnot.” She smiled at Anna. “I… I wouldn’t mind taking you out of this cell tomorrow. You need some exercise.”
“Would… would you be allowed to do that?”
“As I said before, what Hans doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Elsa said reassuringly.
Anna nodded. “I’d like that… getting out and all.” She laid down and sighed. “And Elsa?”
“Yes?” Elsa wondered.
“Thank you,” Anna said genuinely.
Elsa smiled, closing the cell door. “Rest well, Anna.”
xXx
Fresh air, sunlight. It had felt like an eternity since Anna had been outside, in the presence of nature. Elsa had brought to a clearing just outside of the Southern Isles capital, where they wouldn’t be disturbed. The clearing was surrounded by beautiful trees full of lush green leaves, while in front of Anna, she could see a small lake with clear water reflecting the morning sun. It reminded Anna of where Kristoff had proposed to her.
Anna almost turned, instantly expecting to see the man of her dreams next to her…. only to be met with the sight of Elsa, having just dismounted the ice horse she’d created to take Anna to this place. She felt… unsure. It was confusing to Anna, who now realised she’d been attracted to Elsa for quite some time. Part of her hated Elsa and Part of her loved her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it all.
The sorceress walked up to her and smiled at her. “Enjoying the view?”
“I guess,” Anna answered as best as she could. “Why did you bring me here exactly?”
“This is where I go to practice my magic,” Elsa replied. “No one else knows about this place other than you and me. It’s the perfect little spot where no one will ever find you.”
“Huh,” Anna remarked. “You know, I’d have figured for an ice witch, you’d be hiding out in some giant frozen castle on the side of a mountain.”
“You really think that?”
“It was in a bedtime story my mother read to me as a kid,” Anna explained, before sitting down by the lakeside. “Thank you for bringing me here. I remember I had a place like this in Arendelle. It was in the gardens and Kristoff and I used to spend so many afternoons here.” “You miss him terribly,” Elsa said. “And It’s all because of me.” “You explained that last night,” Anna replied. “I do blame you still partly for what happened to him… And I doubt he’d have approved of me being like this with you. But then again… he’s gone and I should let go of the pain and move on.” “And what do you think?” “i… I think you know how I think,” Anna replied.
“If… If this is about that kiss, you don’t have to apologise,” Elsa expressed. “I’ve heard of the concept where one falls in love with their captor out of desperation.”
“No, if that were the case, I’d have fallen in love with Hans,” Anna corrected her. “But you aren’t my captor. You’re just as much of a prisoner as I am. Just I’m in a cell and you… you aren’t.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “And I think… I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”
“I… I think I feel the same way,” Elsa admitted. “But it can’t work. I can’t go against Hans, as much as I’d like to. I can’t give you freedom or your kingdom back.”
“Why can’t you?!” Anna demanded. “Elsa,  if this is how you really feel, why the flying fuck have you allowed yourself to be Hans’s lapdog all these years?!" 
"Because I’d have nothing else!” Elsa shouted back.
“I saw how Hans treated you at breakfast yesterday, with that bigoted remark,” Anna reminded her. “And you’re supposed to be his equal for crying out loud? Doesn’t sound very equal to me.”
“You don’t understand!”
“You could have broken away from Hans anytime you wanted,” Anna argued. “You could have stopped yourself from becoming what you are, you could have prevented so much death and destruction!… and yet you didn’t. Why?”
A few more tears of regret shed from Elsa. “Because I was a fool. Hans was the first person who ever showed me kindness, who saw some use for me.” She looked away at the water, looking at her reflection. “I was taken from my parents when I was three years old by Hans’s father. My powers hadn’t developed by then and I was just meant to be some political hostage, meant to weaken one of the Southern Isle’s enemies. Hans took pity on me as I got older… I helped him kill his father. He gave me a life, a purpose. His enemies were my enemies and I gladly cut them down for him. But… after that, he was colder to me, especially after he found out I preferred women.”
“So… he made a pass at you,” Anna realised. “That explains it, and part of your mistreatment is because Hans couldn’t have you fully. And yet, he still needed you.”
“It’s kinda stupid isn’t it?” Elsa remarked. “And I’ve been too damned insecure to do anything about it. If I kill Hans, I’d have nowhere to go. I’m fairly sure my birth family is dead. . I’m most likely wanted in the surviving kingdoms that I didn’t destroy… I have nothing. Even if I did spare many of the civilians, my reputation among the other kingdoms is tainted.”
“That’s not true,” Anna argued. “I… I’d welcome you to stay in Arendelle if I could.”
“Would you really do that?” Elsa wondered. “In spite of all of my crimes.”
“At least you’ve tried to atone for yours by being my friend and taking care of me,” Anna replied. “That’s more than his royal douchebag ever did for me.” She took Elsa’s hands. “So yes, if Arendelle were still standing… I’d gladly invite you to stay and… I love you.”
Elsa was stunned, as Anna then kissed her again, but then, she gave in, wrapping her arms around Anna as she kissed her, caressing the other woman gently. Anna gave in to the moment, relishing the kiss, letting go of all that pain and anger. Would Kristoff have approved? Well, he’d have been glad that she’d found love again, but with the woman who had killed him? Well, that was certainly complicated, but love wasn’t a matter that was easy. At the end of the day, he’d have been happy if she was happy.
But as Anna held Elsa in the kiss, something clicked in her brain, something about Elsa’s story that seemed… familiar.  A young princess kidnapped at three years old, stolen away and never to be seen again. Could Elsa be… no, it was impossible. Anna panicked, pulling away from the kiss.
“What’s wrong?” Elsa asked, concerned. “Anna, are you okay?”
Anna looked in the water at hers and Elsa’s faces, she could see that there was indeed a resemblance between them. A similar face shape, their eyes being a similar shade of blue, Anna’s teal and Elsa’s ice.
She didn’t want to believe it… but couldn’t deny the facts before her.
“You… you don’t have nothing, Elsa,” Anna spoke.
“What?” Elsa wondered. “What are you talking about?”
“I wasn’t my family’s firstborn,” Anna explained. “I had an older sister who was abducted when I was just a baby. My parents never told me about her and I never even knew she had existed until they died at sea a few years back. But, if she was still alive….”
Elsa’s eyes widened. "You… You don’t mean.”
“I mean look at us!” Anna shouted. “Our faces, don’t they look kinda similar!”
“But… That’s impossible!” Elsa shouted. “I would have known I’d have had a sibling! Oh god… I kissed my sister!” “Oh god, I fell in love with my sister!” Anna reacted. “No… it can’t be right,” Elsa argued. “Hans would have told me that I had a sibling.”
"Would he?” Anna wondered. “Did Hans even tell you what Kingdom you were taken from?”
“No..” Elsa realised. “He did not… and if your story is true and then…” She shook her head. “But why wouldn’t he have told me… unless he wanted to further…” After passing through disbelief and confusion, Elsa finally ended up in anger.
At that moment, Elsa’s hands curled into fists and an angry scowl formed on her face. To Anna’s shock, a whirlwind of ice and snow surrounded Elsa as she let out a massive scream of rage, firing ice blasts left and right. One of the blasts was powerful enough to freeze the whole lake.
“Elsa! Calm down!”
“No!!!” Elsa shouted. “I’ve had enough! I’ve been lied to my whole life and I’m tired of it! Hans forced me to destroy my own home, and I didn’t even realise it! He deserves to pay for what he’s done!”
Anna walked over to Elsa, feeling a little nervous. Seeing Elsa this way reminded her of the visions of the sorceress that she saw in her dreams.
“I’m… I’m okay,” Elsa panted.
“You sure?”
Elsa nodded. “Yes… Damn it all to hell. How could I have been so blind all these years? I knew Hans was a piece of work, but if this is true… then he and his whole retched family deserve to rot in hell.” She started to sob, Anna going to her side and holding her.
“I’m here,” Anna whispered. “I’ve got you, Elsa.”
Accepting it all, Elsa looked at Anna, breathing deeply. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”
“And I’m sorry too,” Anna apologised as well. “I should have realised this sooner… I’ll just forget those kisses happened. I can’t believe you’re my sister… and I’m in love with you.”
“No Anna, don’t say that,” Elsa urged. “For all you know we might not be related after all… and even if we were, does it really matter? No one would know but us.”
“I… I don’t know,” Anna responded, unsure. “What… what are you going to do now?”
 "I’m going to look through the journals of Hans’s father. It likely confirms what you’ve been telling me. Then… I’m going to confront Hans about this myself.“
"Alone?”
“I won’t put you in danger,” Elsa insisted. “Sister or not, you’ve been through too much and I care about you.”
“But I was also raised as a warrior,” Anna replied. “If we’re going to do this… and we’re going to finally do what I think we’re going to do, I want to be there.”
Elsa nodded. “Okay… but I’ll take you back to your cell while I look through the journals.”
“Sounds good to me,” Anna replied.
xXx
It hadn’t taken Elsa long to find King Johann’s journal. Hans hadn’t exactly left his father’s old belongings hard to find in the castle attic. But actually reading the words to herself made Elsa sick to the stomach.
The entries in the journal confirmed what Anna had suspected, that Elsa was indeed the other Arendellian princess, abducted as a child. It had made Elsa angry that she had been denied such a life, a sister, two loving parents, the chance to be Queen herself…
But now, Elsa knew she had a chance to start over with Anna. She could bring Arendelle or the other kingdoms she destroyed back and try and do her damndest to make amends for all of her many many sins. And how was she going to do that? By finally killing the monster who had used her for all these years.
Storming through the halls of the castle to Anna’s cell, Elsa pondered what she was about to do. For one small moment, she was scared, scared that killing Hans would only make things worse for the Southern isles. But then she thought about the power she herself had, a power that if used right could do much more good than harm.
Eventually, Elsa made her way to Anna’s cell, opening the door and looking at Anna, who was lying on her bunk.
“Elsa?” Anna asked.
The sorceress walked over to Anna, reaching her hand out to her. “It’s time to get you out of here… my sister.”
“Wait, are we really?”
The blonde nodded. “Yes, you’re my sister, Anna.”
“Oh my god, I can’t believe it,” Anna expressed. She then jumped up and hugged Elsa tightly. Her long lost sister… finally they were reunited. For a moment, she thought about kissing her again, but knew it was best to push those thoughts to one side.
“So… are we going to do this?” Anna asked.
Elsa nodded. “Yes…. this is something I should have done the moment I let Hans get into my head.”
And so, the two sisters eventually made their way to the war room, where Hans and his generals were planning their next campaign of conquest. Elsa told Anna to wait outside, Anna hiding behind a nearby statue, while Elsa walked inside, firmly prepared for what she was about to do.
Hans and his generals were gathered around a table plotting their next conquest, Elsa seeing the usual smug look on Hans’s face. It enraged her now, more than it ever did, especially now that she knew the truth. But finally, this nightmare would be over, for both her and Anna.
“Hans?” Elsa asked.
“Elsa! Just the woman I wanted to see,” Hans responded. “My generals and I were going over the plans for our next campaign. I trust you will be of course leading the charge?”
Elsa then bowed in respect. “Of course. I live to serve you, my lord.” She knew she had to get Hans alone in order to do this. The fewer people around, the better. “I… I had something I wanted to speak to you about,” Elsa said.“Can we speak in private?”
“Of course!” Hans replied. “I was hoping to talk to you about some personal matters as well.” Hans looked at the generals. “Leave us, please. This hopefully won’t take long.”
As the generals and the guards that had been in the room left, Elsa stared at Hans, as the former went to pour himself a drink of whiskey from a nearby bottle. After taking a swig, he smirked at Elsa.
“I know you don’t hold your ale well, but would you care for a drink, Elsa?” Hans offered. “This is a rather good vintage.”
"No thank you,” Elsa responded.
“Hmmm pity,” Hans remarked. “I was having a drink in celebration.”
"Of what?” Elsa wondered. “Your next campaign?”
"Oh no, something a little closer to home,” Hans explained. “I’ve just arranged for the execution of your friend Queen Anna.”
Elsa’s eyes widened. "What?! Why?”
Hans shrugged. “I just wanted to clear up loose ends. After yesterday’s little incident, I realised she’s too much of a liability. It’s best to let the last remnant of Arendelle be finally snuffed out. Plus… She’s a rather bad influence on you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m not stupid, Elsa!” Hans shouted. “I know you have feelings for her and how you feel pity for her. She’s made you soft.”
Her heart beating in her chest, Elsa flared with anger. She had to act now, Hans was going to kill Anna, the only family she truly had left and she wouldn’t allow him to take her away from her.
"No.”
Hans put his glass down. “No what?”
“No, I can’t allow you to do that, Hans,” Elsa argued. “I’ve been your slave for too long. I know everything now. I know I was stolen from Arendelle as a child and that Anna is my sibling.” She strode towards Hans. “Why did you lie to me, Hans?! Why use me?!”
Hans sighed. “Oh well… I suppose you were going to find out eventually.” Hans walked over to a nearby window, looking out on his kingdom. “You were too useful to me, and I couldn’t resist losing you or the power you would gain me. And I had to teach your birth kingdom a lesson. They were trying to take you from me.”
“What… What are you talking about?”
"A few years ago, not long after you helped me stage my coup, do you remember when I had you sink that enemy ship?”
"What does that have to do with this?” Elsa wondered. Then she stopped and thought. She remembered how the king and Queen of Arendelle had apparently died at sea. Her parents. “Oh…”
Hans laughed. “That was your own parents, Elsa, rushing to your rescue and you never even realised it. I bet Anna would just love to know that little factoid. She’ll never consider you a sister once she knows that.”
“What?!” A voice exclaimed.
Elsa turned around, seeing Anna walk into the room, her mouth wide in shock. Sweat beaded from her brow, knowing that Hans had deliberately withheld that information from her, for just such a moment like this. “Anna… I didn’t know, I swear!”
“You… you killed them….”
“It was Hans!” Elsa argued. “He forced me to sink that ship. I didn’t know our parents were onboard it! And it doesn’t matter, this is him trying to mess with our heads!”
Anna sighed. “You’re right… I can be angry about that another time.” She glared at Hans. “You’re an insane bastard, Hans!”
“Oh shut up, the pair of you,” Hans argued. “There’s nowhere for either of you to go now. So just run along back to your cell, Anna.”
“No, she’s staying with me,” Elsa said defiantly.
“And you’re going to stay with me!” Hans insisted. “And you would have been nothing if I hadn’t taken pity on you.f I hadn’t, you’d still be locked in a cell as one of my father’s little trophies. I made you what you are Elsa.”
“You’re wrong!” Elsa shouted. “You can’t control me anymore!”
“And what are you going to do about it?” Hans asked. “If you kill me, you’ll have nowhere to-”
And right there and then, Anna punched Hans square in the face with all her strength. The king was started for a moment, giving Elsa the chance to grab her hands around Hans’s neck.
Hans choked and grunted. “Elsa… What…” But Elsa’s hand squeezed tighter and tighter, Hans’s face turning redder as he tried to breathe. However, he felt a sudden chill as ice spread from Elsa’s hand to all over his body. Elsa quickly let go, but Hans struggled as the rest of his body started to turn to ice.
“It’s the end for you, Hans,” Anna said coldly.
“And you were so wrong about me,” added Elsa in an equally icy tone. “I have a sister, someone I love. That’s more precious than something you’ll ever have. And as for you… you’re about to lose everything.”
Hans gurgled audibly, trying to form words to spit out, but he couldn’t. His throat had been the first thing frozen solid by Elsa. He settled for glaring venomously at Elsa, full of fury.
With a powerful kick, Anna knocked Hans towards the window, smashing him through it. As she watched, she saw Hans fully become an ice statue before he finally hit the courtyard below, nothing left of him but bloody particles. Finally, it was over. Hans was no more.
Just then, Elsa and Anna heard the sound of the guards enter the room, having heard the window break. They drew their sabres at them, but Elsa just gave them a freezing glare. The soldiers surrendered in moments, bowing in respect for Elsa, completely at her mercy.
“What is your command, Elsa?” one of them asked.
“Leave us for a moment,” Elsa answered. “I’ll address you when I’m ready.”
As the guards left the room, Elsa looked over at Anna, who was looking at the window.
“I can’t believe it… it’s finally over,” Anna admitted. “I’m free.”
“Are you still angry?” Elsa asked her.
“No… No, you didn’t know about our parents,” Anna replied. “And to be honest… I bet they’d have been happy that we took out Hans together.” She turned around. “What are you going to do now?”
“I’ll assume the throne of the southern isles,” Elsa stated. “Put the kingdom’s resources towards repairing the damage I’ve done. I’ll make sure Arendelle is restored to its former glory… hopefully some of the people I let go are still out there.” She held Anna close. “Finally… it’s over.”
“Good riddance to Hans,” Anna admitted.
“Did you have to kick him through the window?” Elsa asked. “I mean, I was gonna shatter him to pieces anyway.”
“A warrior has a flair for the dramatic,” Anna replied.
Elsa knew this probably wasn’t the best time to ask about this, but she and Anna both knew that despite the revelation of them being sisters, they couldn’t simply ignore their romantic feelings. “Anna… about us being sisters…
"I made my decision already,” Anna interrupted her. “I want to be with you, Elsa. This whole sisters thing… as long as we keep it our little secret things will be fine.”
“You’re sure about this?” Elsa wondered.
“Well, how else am I going to make you my queen and not raise eyebrows?” Anna remarked.
“Wait… what?”
But Anna had then grabbed Elsa, dipping her down for a passionate kiss, celebrating the fact that freedom was theirs at last.
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She listened in absolute silence, careful not to do anything to interrupt his... explanation? steam of thoughts?
The Dark Lord had created at least two Horcruxes. One of which had been destroyed. The second, the one who was very much not a diary and very much intact - her lips twitched up in amusement at that - could also be interacted with. Somehow. Just like Ekrizdis who still existed in... in two pieces.
A couple of possibilities jumped in her mind, but... "Would you mind letting me conduct a couple of tests?" was not something wise to ask. "If I gave you my brother's equipment..." sounded no better.
But at least this put the list straight. I need to talk to my siblings. To my friends. And to Decadence.
She watched the Dark Lord drifting off, lost in his thoughts. Again, while musing on the condition of being a bodyless wisp. The years of exile - from England, from life itself - seemed to have left a mark in the man. She tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to her mind. So she remained quiet, absent-mindedly caressing the dark skin of the Lethifold as seconds stretched into minutes.
A sound in the fire made the Dark Lord flinch, his attention returning abruptly onto her.
«I was thinking,» she said quietly, as if the long pause had never happened, «that I need to focus on Decadence - the Dementor - and hear what it has to say before making any other decision. And I was wondering if...» she hesitated. «If I could find some trace of Ekrizdis in the testimonies of those who survived Azkaban. Something they didn't think of at the moment, maybe something they thought was a product of their mind, or something weird in the actions or words of a dying inmate... Something that, looked under this new light could shed some insight on whether Ekrizdis is active in the prison or not, now that we know what to look for.»
"I was wondering if you could ask your followers". But she was not going to try and give the Dark Lord homeworks. She was only going to hope he would catch her implicit hope.
🦅
“You named it?” Voldemort asked, amused. He had never considered naming a dementor. The idea of dementors with names was...interestingly new to him. But why? Most other creatures are given names, whether by humans or within their own species. Serpents had names, of a sort. Why not dementors?
Some traces, some hint of his presence. Yes. Voldemort realized then how next to useless he was - he had never stepped foot in Azkaban. He had led the rescue mission of his imprisoned followers, back in oh, 1996 - but he had never actually touched the fortress. And had never sought a reason to go back. 
“Bella would know,” he said softly, frowning. But would he ask her? It was not a topic she tended to bring up - and one she shut down, if asked. “Or Rod, yes, better I ask some of the others, first...Lucius, he was not there terribly long, he might be useless, but I could see...” He could look into their minds if need be. Perhaps he could peek in Bella’s as she slept. She would never know. 
“Certainly,” he said. “Give me a day or two. If Ekrizdis is indeed trapped in the fortress, I would assume at least one of my followers encountered him to some degree.” He smirked. “They tended to end up there often. And to think, what was once an annoyance may turn out to be useful, in the end.”  
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Djinn’s Bride! ~A Celebration of Love~
Part 10
[Walpurga Nacht Academy]
[Djinn’s Lamp]
Rosa: Marcia… and Himalia-senpai… they’ve both been taken out…
Cass: A-A-And we’re up ne-ne-next… Um…
Blanche: This is becoming more troublesome than expected…
Vita: Indeed~ ‘Tis very entertaining~
Rosa: …
Vita: Hm~? Wherefore are you staring at me so demandingly, little rose? Have you been bewitched? My, how charming!
Rosa: Eh?! No, it’s rather… Shouldn’t you go next, Dies-senpai?
Vita: Oh?
Rosa: I-I-I mean… you’re the one who set the djinn’s free after all! No matter how you look at it it’s your responsibility! Marcia’s already paid her due so don’t you think you should too?!
Agatha: Ehehehehehehehe… stupid… amoeba… is… stupid…
Rosa: Geh! Wh-Why’d you sneak up on me like this?! I-If you’re planning to do something, then-
Vita: Now, now, there shall be no need to accuse my cute Agatha of anything~ She is merely too doting~ Are you not, my dear?
Agatha: Heheheheheheheheheh…
Rosa: It’s giving me the creeps! I can’t trust a single word you two are saying! He-Hey! Don’t come any closer!! HEY!
Blanche: A-Agatha! Please restrain yourself! We’re not sending Dies-senpai over!
Agatha: …
Rosa: Huh?! We’re not?! How come?!
Blanche: … It would be counterproductive.
Rosa: Counterproductive?
Diana: It’s not sure that Vita will cooperate.
Vita: My~
Rosa: Th-That...Now that I think about it, Dies-senpai tends to be ruthless and self-centered. If she was sent to seduce this djinn, then I wouldn’t put it past her to sell us out for her amusement. Maybe she’ll put us all in hourglasses too!! No!! I don’t want that!! Anything but that!! Please!!
Cass: Mi-Mi-Mi-Miss Morgainne! Ple-Please calm yourself!
Diana: Rosalia.
Rosa: Eh? Di-Diana?
Diana: Don’t lose your head.
Rosa: Ugh… That is easy for you to say… I still can’t help thinking of senpai’s cruel face as she watches us be imprisoned in those glass cages… She’d definitely be laughing!! I’m sure of it!!
Vita: Fufu~
Rosa: I told you!!
Diana: That is just who Vita is. 
Rosa: You’re too accepting, Diana!!
Blanche: In any case. We should figure out how to resolve this situation… First-
Cass: U-U-Um…
Blanche: Hm? Cassandra? Is there something wrong?
Cass: I was wondering a-a-about the ne-ne-needle…
Rosa: Huh? The needle? What about i-AAAAAAAAAAAH!! THE NEEDLE!!
Blanche: !!!
Rosa: THE NEEDLE! STUPID MARCIA TOOK THE NEEDLE WITH HER!! WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO NOW?!
Blanche: Ca-Calm yourself, it’s not- huh? Where… Just a moment… But it was…
Cass: U-U-Um, Miss Dion?
Blanche: My sewing kit… It’s gone…
Rosa: HA?! YOUR SEWING KIT?! IS THAT REALLY THE THING TO BE WORRIED ABOUT RIGHT NOW?! REALLY?!
Blanche: … The rest of my needles were in there.
Rosa: Huh?
Blanche: Sewing kits usually carry more than just one needle. Mine had around twelve of them, all customs made for better use and endurance… And made of iron too…
Rosa: … Eh. Eh? EEEEEEEEH?!
Blanche: !!! Rosalia, please cease your shout-
Rosa: We have to find that kit!! Where is it?! Where is it?! 
Agatha: Hehehehehehehehhe...
Cass: Mi-Mi-Miss Morgainne!
Rosa: If we all look for it together then surely-!! Come one, don't just stand there gaping!! Our life is at stake, you know?!
Agatha: Ehehehehehhehehe…
Blanche: … Rosalia…
Rosa: It’s not here!! It’s not here!! Not here!! Aaah!! Why am I the only one searching?! Don’t you guys care about escaping anymore?! Hey!!
Agatha: Ehehehehehehhe…
Diana: …
Rosa: Agatha!! Stop laughing!! It’s not helping at all!! We gotta work together if we want to… get out… so…
Agatha: Ehehehehehehehhe…
Rosa: ……………………………. Hey, Agatha……….. What are you holding there… ? That thing in your arms….. that looks like a small box….. and has a cute pattern on top of it…. Isn’t that….
Agatha: The… sewing… kit… ehehehehhehe…
Rosa: You’re not even trying to hide it?! What’s with that?! Why didn’t you say you have it from that start?! 
Agatha: Ehehehehehhe…
Rosa: Aaaah! Whatever!! I’m too worked up to care anymore!! Now!! Hand it over so we can- HUH?!
Agatha: Ehehehehehehe…
Rosa: Wh-Wha-?! Why are you keeping it away?! Hey!! Agat- STOP KEEPING IT WAY!! AGATHA!!!
Agatha: Ehehehehehehe…
Blanche: A-Agatha! We need those needles to escape this place! The only thing that can intimidate a djinn is an iron needle!
Agatha: I… know… that’s… why… I’m… keeping… it… as… leverage…
Blanche: … Leverage? Do you mean…
Diana: Blackmail.
Agatha: Yes… ehehehehhe…
Rosa: YOU EVEN ADMITTED TO IT?! NOT TO MENTION SO EASILY?!
Cass: Mi-Mi-Miss Voisin!
Agatha: I… don’t… want… to… go…
Blanche: Huh?
Agatha: This… situation… is… annoying… and… I… don’t… want… to… be… involved… with… it… That’s… why… I’m… making… you… chowders… deal… with… it… instead… ehehehehehe…
Rosa: SO WE’RE SACRIFICES?! EH?! EEEEEEH?!
Agatha: If… the… stupid… amoeba… got… trapped… in… the… hourglass… it… would… be… funny… ehehehhehehehe…
Rosa: ME AGAIN?! You’re always looking to pick a fight with me!! What is up with that?! It’s gotten really troublesome already!! Do you even have a reason for it?!
Agatha: ……………………….. The… stupid… amoeba… is… annoying…
Rosa: HUH?!
Agatha: Always… shouting… and… prattling… and… demanding… and… still… she… has… lots… of… friends…
Rosa: E-Eh? Wh-What’s that got to do with anything?! And it’s not like I have lots of friends…
Agatha: The… stupid… amoeba… appears… on… TV… a… lot… and… she’s… friends… with… the… shiny… chowder… from… Night… Raven… and… the… cheery… chowder… from… Royal… Sword.... and… the… other… chowders… They… all… clamour… around… the… stupid.. amoeba… It’s… annoying…
Rosa: Huh?! Isn’t this too unfair?! So you’re just jealous that I get along with Vil and Neige and the others?! What kind of reason is that to hate somebody?! You’re just projecting your own insecurities on me in the end, aren’t you?!
Agatha: …………………..
Rosa: I’m right, aren’t I?! GRRRR! To think that all along your attitude towards me was for such a petty reason!!
Agatha: ………………………………….
Rosa: You’ve got nothing to say?! Huh?!
Agatha: ……………………………………. The… stupid… amoeba… is… too… loud…
Rosa: HUH?! ARE YOU REALLY STILL GOING FOR IT?! AAAAAAH, THEN-
Djinn: Hm? What’s going on here?
Rosa: !!!
Agatha: !!!
Djinn: Could it be… are you guys actually…
Rosa: Crap! He’s looking straight at Agatha! He’s gonna see the kit! If that happens we’re doomed!
Djinn: Don’t tell me…
Agatha: ……………………………..
Rosa: A-AGATHA!
Djinn: Hm?
Agatha: ……………….. ?
Rosa: Don’t you think enough is enough?!
Agatha: ……………………. ?
Rosa: Even if you beg a hundred times, I won’t back down! This guy is mine!
Blanche: ?!
Cass: ?!
Agatha: …………………….. 
Rosa: That’s right! It’s time to face the truth! You two are obviously just not a good match! So please be reasonable and concede!
Blanche: Rosalia…
Vita: My~
Diana: …
Agatha: ………………………………………..
Djinn: NO WAY! You guys are actually fighting over me?! Hahahaha! Man, this is such an ego boost! I was kinda making it all up before, but to see it actually happen… FANTASTIC!
Rosa: Phew, he bought it.
Djinn: Then! Fluffy hair!
Rosa: !!! Ye-Yes?!
Djinn: How about we make it your turn?
Rosa: Uh, uh, wa-wait.... I… I’m not ready yet! The kit is still in Agatha’s hands. If I go up there now, I’m gonna be defenseless for sure! Ugh, what should I do...
Diana: …
Rosa: Di-Diana?! What are you doing?
Diana: It’s my turn.
Rosa: E-EH? 
Agatha: .....................
Djinn: Hm? Wo-Woah! That’s some serious presence you’ve got there, tiger! Kinda like a predator on the prowl, wild and exotic. I LIKE IT!
Rosa: Di-Diana!! Why… why are you…
Diana: A pack makes sure that the litter is protected.
Rosa: Huh?!
Agatha: ……………………
Cass: Do-Do-Does that mean… that…
Blanche: To Arrow-senpai, Rosalia is more like a cub that needs to be looked after… 
Vita: The lioness does have such a pure heart, after all~
Rosa: Grrrr! I know I should be grateful that Diana stepped in to save me, but I can’t help but feel a little peeved that she thinks I need to be rescued!
Blanche: You’re looking a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, if Arrow-senpai has decided to take charge then I think we won’t have to worry about this anymore.
Rosa: Ah! You’re right! If it’s the Diana who can keep even Dies-senpai and Himalia-senpai in check then this will be a breeze for her! We’re gonna be out of here in a flash!
Cass: Mi-Mi-Mi-Miss Arrow is truly in-in-incredible!
Rosa: Hooray! I’m gonna totally forget my frustration with you, Diana, and cheer you on! Di~a~na~! Di~a~na~! Di~a~na~!
[Several Minutes Later]
Djinn: [TIME’S UP!]
[CLICK]
Rosa: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEH?! NO WAY!! WHY?!
Blanche: Th-That…
Cass: O-Oh no! Even Mi-Mi-Miss Arrow!
Agatha: GYAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Rosa: HEY!! DON’T LAUGH!! SHE’S IN THERE BECAUSE SHE WANTED TO SAVE OUR SKIN! SHOW SOME GRATITUDE!
Marcia: BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Rosa: YOU TOO?!
Marcia: I mean- Bwhahahahahahahah! You gotta admit, ahahahhaha, Diana’s number really was too much! Pffffffffffft-
Rosa: I… I guess… but… pffffffft…
Agatha: Stupid… amoeba… is… laughing… too… even…. though… she… told… us… not… to....
Rosa: A-Ah! Ugh, that’s true…
Djinn: Seriously! You girls stop laughing! That was completely unexpected!!
Blanche: That’s Arrow-senpai’s usual however…
Djinn: THE USUAL?! No, no, no! That won’t do! I can't have a wife who’s that wild! I thought the exotic allure was really attractive but to think that it would be to such an extent… No! I want a wife that is civilized after all! None of that weirdness I’ve just gone through… Aaaah, my ears are still ringing in terror…
Cass: U-U-Um… This is bad… We lo-lost Miss Arrow too now…
Blanche: Yes, it’s a heavy blow for us, but… I think we might pull through after all.
Rosa: Huh? What do you mean? Do you have a plan, Blanche?
Blanche: Somewhat. Taking into account just what happened, and the incidents with Marcia and Himalia-senpai, I think I’ve been able to come up with a strategy. 
Rosa: A stra-strategy? Amazing!
Blanche: It’s… not such a big deal. I just… Ahem. Let’s not get distracted. We might only have one shot at this, so we have to give it our all. Do you understand?
Rosa: Gulp! Yeah! I got you!
Cass: U-U-Um! Yes! I’m re-ready too.
Vita: Fufu~
Agatha: Eheheheheh….
Blanche: I… I suppose this will have to do… Now listen here our plan is…
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Talk Chapter 19
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 It was over, but not done.
 There were still so many things to do before John could drop everything and go home to Helen.
 He starts by calling Nick.
 “H-hello?” Jesus, the boy really was afraid of him.
 Ironic, John thinks, considering he owes this kid more than he can ever hope to repay for allowing Helen to contact him during her imprisonment. And then looking out for her at the cost of his job, possibly his life if DeLuca had found out.
 “It’s done.” He says, “DeLuca’s going to be picked up by Adjudication. Are you able to stay until someone gets there to pick up Isabella?”
 “Yeah, yeah. Of course. The, uh, the bounty’s dropped then?”
 He exhales and, fuck, it feels so good.
 The bounty is dropped. The contract is closed. And while he doesn’t think either of them will ever be truly safe, no one is coming after her anymore.
 “Yes.”
 “Good. That’s, that’s good.” Nick sounds relieved, too. The younger man pauses for a moment and then tentatively asks, “Would you do me a favor, Mister Wick, sir? She told me if I ever wanted to talk… I just was wondering if you could ask her to call me. When she’s back and settled and shi—stuff. Stuff.”
 And, god, Helen was just      that    good. And it had started as manipulation, he knew. A way to save herself when he wasn’t there to do the job but there was no doubt in John’s mind that Helen would meet with Nick every week, for as long as he needed.
 “Yeah, kid. I’ll pass it along.”
 “Thank you.”
 John pauses, thoughtfully. “When Isabella’s been picked up, head over to the Continental. Ask for Winston. New York is always busy. I know they’re looking to hire another Sommelier. It’ll pay more than Syndicate; I can guarantee that. I’ll put in a good word for you.”
 “Really?”
 “Really.”
 He shakes his head, in disbelief of himself. He knew Helen was his reason, but John couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment he had gone utterly and completely      soft    .
 Maybe she’d have some insight to that, he thinks, smiling to himself.
 And, because he doesn’t want the knowledge that he has gone soft to spread, he adds, “Don’t fuck it up” and ends the call.
 After all, he isn’t done in the Underworld.
 For starters, the contract had been dropped but that didn’t mean the memo had gotten out. And that needed to happen before he brought Helen back home. The last thing he wanted was to bring her back only to have some kid target her because they ignored the notice.
 The hotel buzzes as John walks through the front door.
 He ignores it, as he always does, approaching the front desk. There’s a small queue that has gathered in front of Charon, but the Concierge waves him up.
 “The Manager is expecting you. He is in his office.”
 John nods his thanks and turns towards the hall where he’ll find Winston, only to run into Verdugo.
 The other assassin looks him over, regarding him with vague interest. He’s carrying a weapons bag, slung over a shoulder. A duffle bag resides in his other hand.
 He’s leaving, John realizes. Verdugo was a drifter.
 The only thing that had kept him in New York was the possibility of a substantial bounty that has since been removed.
 Verdugo breaks the silence first, “I’ll admit, when I heard you were trying to get the bounty removed, I didn’t think you could do it.”
 John raises a brow.
 Because what the hell is he supposed to say to that?
     Oh, no worries. Totally get it. You wouldn’t have wasted both our time if you had only realized sooner that you couldn’t kill my love?  
 “It was just business.”
 Now that, John thinks, is something he’s grown very tired of hearing.
 The Underworld, for better or worse—and right now, John Wick was very much leaning towards      worse    , was all about money and advancement. Status.
 The values he has been exposed to, he realizes, had been very self-serving. No wonder so many narcissists and hedonists thrived in the Underworld.
  And John had survived because he was so self-reliant. He had thrived in a world where favors are currency by being willing to help others and avoiding asking for any help in return. It made him rich, in more than just money. The pile of markers in his collection is unparalleled.
 But he still went home alone. To an empty house. In an empty life, where escapism had been his only fulfillment.
 Drifting.
 In control but, somehow, still empty.
 Until Helen had forced her way into his head, laying claim to his heart.
 And suddenly everything that had once seemed so complicated and out of reach was within his grasp.
 In that moment, he pities Verdugo.
 A man, so much like him in so many ways. A drifter. Free of roots and obligation. Making a name for himself by virtue of skill and competency. But hollow like a tin soldier.
 Verdugo will move on to the next contract. The name Helen Kingston will be replaced with another unfortunate soul, who John is certain will not be as lucky.
 And he’ll make his money and build his legacy.
 And he’ll go home alone. To an empty house. In an empty life.
 John wants to kill him along with anyone else who had hurt or threatened Helen’s life, but it occurs to him that might be a mercy. And maybe Verdugo doesn’t deserve mercy but John didn’t deserve mercy, either. But it had found him.
 Still, he feels the need to say, “If I ever see you anywhere near her…”
 “You won’t.” Verdugo assures him, “Be seeing you.”
 “No.” John says, “You won’t.”
 He leaves Verdugo standing in the hall as he makes his way to Winston’s office.
 The old man doesn’t even look up as John walks in. “It would appear that you had a busy day.” He says as he practically collapses into one of the leather chairs.
 “Busy week.” John amends, “I think I finally understand the phrase      thank god it’s Friday    .”
 Winston smirks, rising to his feet, “Drink?”
 He shakes his head, “No, thank you. I’ve had enough today, while playing politics. Did you happen to hear from Sofia?”
 “Yes,” Winston says, pouring himself brandy, “I already sent someone to collect Mateo. And Isabella. She said you got a confession from the former.”
 “Lorenzo plans to force the counsel to convene on Monday, here in the city.”
 “He wants justice meted out swiftly.”
 “That makes two of us.” John agrees with a nod. “I want this done and in the past.”
 “Understandably. You managed the impossible this week.”
 “Didn’t think I could do it?” John asks, thinking of his conversation with Verdugo and the time that had been wasted pursuing Helen Kingston.
 “On the contrary,” Winston says, taking the seat next to him, “You made me a great deal of money.”
 John arches a brow.
 “You successfully removing the bounty was the long odds over at Dex’s. Fifty to one.”
 And, fuck, but that makes him laugh. He didn’t realize how much he needed that after the stress of the day, “How much did you put down?”
 “Five grand.” Winston looks at him strangely and it occurs to John that he’s probably never laughed in front of Winston before.
 “Well-played.” He says, shaking his head in amusement. While he never intends to tell Helen of the betting odds placed on when she would die and by whose hand, he can’t help but think that she’d get a kick out of it. Either that, or she’d be pissed she never got a chance to get in on the action.
 Yeah. That sounds right.
 “I know the rumor mill will have heard that the contract was dropped,” John says, “but is it possible to get Administration to send out a mass message? To confirm it, and make sure anybody working solo is notified?”
 “I’ll see to it myself.”
 John nods gratefully. That would make him feel much better about taking her back to the city. Although he’s already mentally preparing himself for the wave of anxiety that will surely hit the moment, he leaves her alone to go back to work. He tables that particular worry for now.
 “I have another favor to ask.”
 Winston rolls his eyes, “Indeed?”
 “Nick Russo. Ex-Syndicate. He burnt some bridges today to help keep Helen safe. I’d appreciate it if you considered him for the second Sommelier position you were considering opening up.”
 The old man hums, “I’ll meet with him.”
 “Thank you.”
 And just like that, two things are checked off his list.
 Winston was good like that. As Manager, it was his job to be accommodating and helpful and ensure everyone was getting the best services that could be offered to those serving the High Table. But it was also more than that.
 For decades, Winston had been a mentor to him.
 After being introduced by Charon, Winston had immediately taken to the young, reckless assassin. He’d seen something that others had brushed to the side.
 And John had been skeptical. Untrusting.
 But Winston had been relentless. He offered sound advice that John found hard to ignore. Slowly, John had found himself utilizing the Manager. After moving back to New York, it became clear that Winston knew the city and its inhabitants better than anyone.
 Somewhere along the line, John had begun to trust him.
 Winston had tried to line John up for Management but had accepted his decision when John, respectfully, denied interest in such a path. While Winston mourned John’s lack of ambition, he continued to serve as a mentor.
 Arguably, the closest thing John had ever had to a father-figure.
 John doesn’t doubt, for a moment, his decision to retire. He will miss very little about the Underworld. But Winston would be counted amongst them.
 And while John doesn’t particularly want to have this conversation, he owes it to Winston to be the one to tell him.
 “I’ve decided to retire.”
 Winston’s head turns sharply, “Pardon?”
 John sits up straighter in the chair, “I’m retiring. As soon as everything has been taken care of, I’m leaving the Underworld.”
 “Jonathan, you have obligations.” Winston says, shaking his head, “You can’t just      retire    .”
 “Lorenzo is freeing me of my contractual obligations. I intend to reach out to Viggo to make arrangements as well.”
 “Lorenzo D’Antonio is letting you walk away?” The surprise is evident in his voice.
 John nods.
 “Miraculous in itself, but you cannot expect Viggo to do the same.”
 “I won’t take no for an answer.” John says softly, “One way or another, I’m getting out. And I’ve made up my mind about this. It won’t be changed.”
 He leaves no room for argument. Bittersweet as it may be, there is nothing that can change his mind anymore. Even if Helen didn’t want him, he would have left to keep her safe. His enemies wouldn’t have used her against him if he was no longer a problem.
 But Helen did want him. She loved him, beyond all reason.
 “Whatever will you do?”
 John feels his lips twitch. Aside from keeping house and devoting the majority of his time to ensuring Helen’s happiness—that she never regrets choosing him, he really isn’t sure. He knew he didn’t have it in him, nor did he have the credentials or the qualifications, to work in the real world. At least, for most occupations.
 And, truthfully, he was tired of the constant work.
 Hating his life and coming home to an empty house, John had filled his life with work. Work until the point of distraction. Which meant extra jobs, far beyond working for money. He worked to kill people and time, respectively.
 Decades of working seven days a week, every day of the year.
 He’s looking forward to the break.
 Maybe he’d pick up a hobby. He’d continue to bind books through the coldness of the winter. Maybe he’d even start to sell them or volunteer with a library to fix old tomes.
  Maybe, come springtime, he’d actually open the pool in his backyard which had been closed and unused since he first moved in.
 He planned to cook for her. Maybe he’d get into that. Learn to make things from scratch. To bake.
 The possibilities were endless.
 “I don’t know.” He answers honestly and he’s… surprisingly okay with that. The uncertainty would usually throw him for a loop, but John finds himself completely and unexpectedly happy not knowing. It was freeing.
 “Are you—”
 “Yes.” John interrupts before Winston can say      sure    . “More sure, more certain than I have ever been about anything in my life.”
 Winston nods, slowly. He doesn’t understand, John knows. The old man probably won’t ever understand why John was giving up the wealth, the prestige, the permanent get-out-of-jail-free card that existed for the members of the Underworld.
 “When?” He asks.
 “As soon as possible. I plan on testifying Monday. I’ll meet with Viggo after and inform him of my intentions.”
 “It will not be easy.”
 “I don’t expect it to be. But it won’t matter. Whatever Viggo demands, I’ll do it.”
 And he would. Nothing would stop him.
 They sit in silence as Winston seems to digest it all. It’s odd, he thinks. He knows Winston disapproves, just as he had when John had first told him about Helen. But Winston knows that John doesn’t give a fuck about approval. No one’s opinion influenced him, save Helen’s.
 He missed her.
 It had only been hours since he had last held her in his arms, and he missed her.
 Was this what it was to be in love? To crave the presence of another in any and every form? To hold them in your mind’s eye even when you are away?
 How did people stand it, living like this?
 And yet, John acknowledges, he would not give it up for the world.
 “I find myself at a loss for words.” Winston says after minutes of silence. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You were ready to burn New York to the ground to find her. Ready to declare war on the High Table to get her back.” The old man shakes his head, “And you seem certain. I know your mind will not be changed. But I feel the need to ask you, once more, Jonathan: is she really worth it?”
 John thinks of her smile.
 The kindness in her eyes.
 The warmth of her touch.
 Her quick wit. Her inquisitive nature. The way she just accepted things as they were. The way she shut him down when he was starting to bullshit himself. The books he had mentioned in passing on her bedside table as she made the effort no one else had to understand him.
 John nods, “She really is.”
 ……….
 He parks the car and John feels another wave of relief wash over him. The fact that it’s over, that Helen is safe keeps hitting him again and again. And now, he’s within feet of her.
 John slips out of the car, admiring for the first time since they moved to the Vermont safehouse how bright the stars were when there were no lights around.
 The front door opens and Marcus steps out, his bag in his hand.
 “I take it everything went well?”
 John nods. “You leaving?”
 Marcus nods back, closing the door behind him. “After everything, I figured you two could probably use some time alone.”
 He’s grateful for Marcus’ reasoning. While John had no intention of kicking Marcus out, he’s right. The only thing John wants to do is wrap Helen up in his arms and never let her go.
 “Thank you.” He says, “For everything. I’ll never be able to re—”
 “Don’t.” Marcus shakes his head. “I was happy to do it. More for her sake than for yours. You’re still kind of a dick but… she makes you almost tolerable.”
 John huffs out a laugh, “Who would have thought.”
 “That the only person capable of taking you down was a therapist who can barely form a sentence fragment without coffee?” Marcus exhales in disbelief. “Mind-boggling. Call me when you two get back to the city.”
 “Will do.” John promises as Marcus throws his duffle into the trunk of his car as he makes his way up the short stairs and into the cottage.
 John slips off his suit jacket, hanging it by the door. He undoes the buttons on his vest, one by one, as he walks down the hall towards the living room. He tugs that off, too, draping it over the couch.
 She’s not in the living room or the kitchen. He continues down the hall towards their bedroom. The door is open and, sure enough, Helen is in bed. Her back leans against the headboard, a book is open in her hand.
 John leans against the door, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt.
 Before him is a sight he could spend an eternity gazing in wonder at. Her glasses have slipped down the bridge of her nose as she reads. He watches as she reaches for her bookmark without looking up, turning the page as she inserts it.
 Without a glance, she smiles, “Hi honey, how was your day?” She asks as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He loves her for it. For making him feel some semblance of normality amidst the bullshit and the chaos.
 John swallows even as his lips twitch in amusement. “Oh, you know. Bitch of a commute. Faked a powerful man’s death. Tried my hand at politics. Not a fan. Then I took down a mafia boss.”
 She sets her book aside before removing her glasses. Helen scans him up and down, assessing for injuries.
 His heart swells with love and adoration. It consumes him and makes it almost difficult to breathe. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with all these emotions flowing through him.
 And, like she can sense he’s overwhelmed, Helen stands up. She crosses the room, her dark eyes gazing into him.
 He wonders if she can see his soul. And if she can, will she change her mind about him? Will she realize how truly terrible, how awful he is?
 But as he looks into those brown eyes, all he sees reflected back is love.
 She loves him, he thinks, even though he doesn’t deserve it. He was a despicable human being. One who had dragged her into the depths of Hell. Even still, she never wavered.
 Helen was stronger than he ever hoped to be.
 And she loved him. Despite everything.
 It staggers him.
 Helen reaches him and he cannot help but fall to his knees before her. His arms wrap around her middle, seemingly of their own accord, and he buries his face against her stomach. John’s breath escapes him in a shudder as her arms come up around him, holding him.
 She strokes his hair and he can barely hold back a sob.
 “I love you, John.”
 And, fuck it all, the dam breaks.
 He’d lost her, this week.
 Someone had taken her, stolen her from her bed. Had      hurt    her to get to him. Had put a bounty on her head for the sole purpose of manipulating him, simultaneously activating agents to find her and kill his beloved.
 Verdugo, who promised to make it quick.
 Kate, who would have obliterated Helen until there was nothing left.
 The kids in the alley, looking to make a name for themselves, would have killed her.
 Along with the hundreds of others who had searched for her, even idly.
 He had spent a week feeling out of control, out of his depth. Unsure of how to save her, hating himself for putting her into that position. Terrified that one wrong move could lead to her death.
 “I’m sorry.” He chokes out, aware that his tears are soaking into her shirt.
 She steps back, only to drop to her knees, too. Her arms wrap around him in a tight hug as he rests his head at the crook of her neck. A hand comes up to cradle his head.
 “You have      nothing     to be sorry for.” She assures him.
 He swallows, heavily. He’s not sure when he last cried but it had to have been decades.
 “It’s my fault…”
 The arm around his back tightens and she turns her face to his head.
 “I’m so sorry I didn’t… didn’t protect you better… and---”
 “Hey,” the hand on his head moves to his cheek and she leans back to look at him. Her thumb strokes a tear, “You didn’t know. You had no reason to suspect that I would be targeted. But you know what?” Her fingers massage his neck, “I’m glad I was.”
 He tilts his head in disbelief.
 “If DeLuca hadn’t have taken me,” she says softly, “I would have seen you for an hour this week. And an hour next. And the week after that. And that would be it. I would have loved you from afar because that’s all I could do.
 “But now,” she runs her fingers down his face, “I can hold you. And kiss you. And love you. And that is more than worth the price of spending a couple uncomfortable days locked in a basement and a couple more hidden away from the world.”
 John shakes his head, because she is unreal sometimes. “You deserve so much be—”
 “      We    don’t get to decide what we deserve, John. That’s never been up to us.” She echoes what she had told him that day in her office. Hours before she had been taken. “But we do get some say in how we’re going to live.”
 John finds himself swallowing, his breath hitching as he tries to breathe in. “And how are we going to live?”
 “Well,” Helen says with a soft smile, “We’re going to start by hiding away for the rest of the weekend. And you’re going to make good on your promise to fuck me on your tongue until I can’t scream anymore.”
 He can’t help but chuckle at how serious she sounds but      fuck    . Yeah, he’s definitely doing that.
 “And then, we’re going to go home. And instead of picking my lock to sneak inside and watch me sleep, you’re going to fall asleep next to me. And instead of leaving before daylight, you’re going to wake up with me. Every day.
 “We’ll take weekend trips to Vermont, every now and then. I’ll make you go antiquing with me.” He laughs at that. Helen smiles back, continuing, “And I’ll make you take me to that other house you’ve got in Maine.”
 “It’s on a lake.” He tells her, thinking she might like that. He’ll buy a boat. Or a few, unsure if she’d prefer a motorboat or something like a kayak. Whatever she decides, she’ll have. She’ll never want for anything so long as he is breathing.
 Helen moves so that she is high on her knees. Her hands reach to cup either side of his face and she leans in to press her lips to his forehead.
 “We’re going to have a really good life.” She promises and fuck, he believes her. “And we’re going to be so fucking happy.”
 She kisses her way down his face, slowly. Tenderly.
 Her lips reach his. How, he thinks, can a kiss be so gentle? So different than anything he’s ever experienced.
 It was glorious when she kissed him passionately. It drove him wild when her teeth nipped at his lips or her tongue greedily sucked at his own.
 But she’s being so soft that it might very well break him again.
 She didn’t look at him and see the Boogeyman. Even knowing who he was, she didn’t let it influence her opinion of him.
 He felt human in her arms, in her eyes.
 He loves her for it. Among the plethora of reasons that he loved and adored her.
 John wraps his arms under her thighs, rising to his feet, and pulling her up with ease.
 She kisses the corner of his mouth as he carries her over to the bed. “I love you,” she whispers as he lays her down.
 They both undress, taking their time.
 The initial desperation has faded and while John is certain it will come back again, he is more than content to take it slow.
 When they are both naked, John revels in the warmth of her skin. He kisses his way around her body, allowing his hands the time to memorize every curve, dip, and swell of her body. And she lets him, like she knows how badly he needs this.
 And she probably does, he thinks. She’s always been in his head.
 Helen’s hand reaches the top of his head, stroking back his hair as he kisses every inch of skin he can reach from his place atop of her.
 His open-mouth grazes across her collarbone and John soaks in the way her hand tightens in his hair, her sharp intake of breath as his teeth scrape against her skin. He wonders what other sounds he can coax from her body… He’ll spend forever finding out.
 John kisses her lips again. How addictive that feeling, that taste has become.
 One hand tilts her head, allowing him to deepen the kiss while his other stretches down her perfect body, dipping between her thighs. He cups her core, feeling the warmth radiating from within her. He dips a finger between her folds. She’s soaking and it’s all for      him    .
 He kisses her harder, feeling his lips bruise as he gently circles his clit with his finger.
 She moans into his mouth and he swallows it down.
     I love you    , he thinks, and has to remind himself that he can say that now. He doesn’t have to keep it bottled in. He wonders how long it will take until he can say it without hesitation. Until it spills as easily from his lips as it comes to echo in his mind.
 “I love you, Hels.” He tells her, kissing down her jaw.
 “John!” She cries out as he continues to toy with her sensitive clit. He reaches down, coating his fingers in her slick heat before pressing them into her opening. His thumb takes over rolling over the sensitive bundles of nerves.
 Helen whimpers, her nails digging into his back. He nips at her throat with his teeth. She’s marked him well enough. Now it’s his turn.
 He wants to claim her. To leave his mark all over her so that anyone who sees her will have no doubt that she is taken. One day, he swears to himself that he’ll put a ring on her finger, but until then, he’ll be content with this.
 More than content.
 He sucks at her neck and plays with her clit until she is a moaning, writhing mess. Before she can reach her release, however, he removes his fingers from her pussy and brings them to his lips.
 Helen shudders as she watches him suck her essence from his fingers.
 His own cock twitches at the taste.
 When he is done, she grabs his hair and yanks him back for a kiss. She sucks on his tongue, tasting herself and he’s never been harder in his life.
 ..
 John takes his heavy cock in hand and brings it to her entrance. He pushes inside slowly, inch by inch. Letting himself focus on every sensation. The way her pussy yields to him, clenching around him. The way her stomach tightens and her breath stutters. Her grip around him.
 He closes his eyes as he finds himself completely buried inside of her. His hips cannot go any further.
 The hitch in her breath delights him. John draws back out, reveling in the soft changes in her breath, before he drives back in. Helen cries out and he kisses her neck. Her pussy tightens around him at the sensation.
 He’s never needed anyone the way he needs her.
 He knows he never will again.
 This woman is everything to him. She is it for him. And he’ll love her with every fiber, every atom of his being until he dies. And then beyond.
 “Fuck, baby!” She cranes her neck, giving him more access.
 He makes a mental note of how much she loves the attention he’s paying to her throat. He nips and she arches her back, crying out yet again. Clenching around him, again.
 John rolls his hips, careful to ensure steady pressure to her clit.
 Because it’s about her. It’s always been about her.
 He lifts his head, turning her head back to him so he can kiss her yet again. Languidly drowning in her as he takes his time fucking her, bringing her to the edge yet again.
 Helen swears, her nails biting into him. Her hips meet his, grinding against him as she moans. His thrusts increase in speed and John feels Helen’s entire body seem to tighten.
 And all at once, she breaks around him, crying out as a wave of pleasure slams into her. The way her pussy throbs around him is enough to make him lose his resolve and he soon finds himself spilling inside of her with a loud groan.
 His eyes lose their focus as his head drops down to the pillow, nestling in the crook of her neck as he breathes heavily. The rush of immediate pleasure leaves him but he is left feeling glorious as he lies on top of her body, still buried inside of her, still feeling the aftershocks of her own orgasm milking him.
 With an exhale, he raises his head to look back at her. Her beautiful eyes gazing at him.
 Helen reaches up. She pushes back the hair which had fallen into his face before wrapping her hand around to the back of his head, guiding his forehead to rest on hers.
 “I love you, John.”
 “I love you, too.” He says, swallowing back the emotions that overwhelm him.
 And he’s never going to let her forget it. She will never have the opportunity to forget or doubt that he loves her. That she is his everything.
 What she said earlier was true: they were going to be so fucking happy.
 And he was going to do this right.
 John kisses her cheek, “How about I buy you dinner?”
 Helen smiles back, “After all this, you better.”
......
One more chapter of this installment to come
thanks to @meetmeinthematinee​ for reviewing and editing <3
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woodlandelfuniverse · 4 years
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The Elf and the Man - Part 2
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Far too long have you remained in the shadows, waiting to return to what you love. You have a quest at hand, but what comes after? Will your life be as before or will you choose another path?
A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you for the love on the last part! I am so glad that you like it! Here is the second part! Slightly longer and finally the reader meets Bard!!!! 
Word Count: 1735
You ran as fast as your feet could carry you. The company was close, but so were the orcs, you were fighting time. Every step took you closer to the company, but further away from Thranduil…again. But you couldn’t think of him now, he had betrayed the dwarves, the hobbit and especially you. Finally, you entered a clearing where you saw the company sitting on the rocks by the river. You ran to them and in the right moment, a man was aiming their arrow at them. Kili was trying to attack the man with a stone, but the man shot it out of his hand. The man was now pointing the arrow at them. With one quick move you split the man’s arrow with your own. Everyone turned their attention to you. The company cheered your name and you turned to the man and pointed an arrow at him. 
“Who are you, and why are you trying to hurt this company?” you asked the man. 
“I am a bargeman and these men were occupying the barrels that I came to collect. Now may I ask why a lady is protecting them?” he responded. You didn’t have a chance to answer before Thorin walked up to the man and pointed a finger at him. 
“Listen here, we don’t have time to discuss our own matters with you, so please leave us b-,” Thorin said fiercely, but he was cut off. 
“Eh, slow down Thorin, what our leader here was going to say is if that barge over there is for hire by any chance?” Balin asked nicely. He was always the most sensible in the group and you smiled at his clever mind. 
“I don’t know what business you had with the elves, but I don’t think it ended well. No one enters Lake-town but by lead of the master. All his wealth comes from trade with the Woodland Realm. He would see you in irons before risking the wrath of king Thranduil,” the man warned.
“Let us worry about King Thranduil. As of right now, we need your help!” you said and removed your hood. He was baffled by you, never had he seen someone so beautiful and fears. He couldn’t take his eyes of you even if he wanted to. He now saw that you were an elf.
“Aye. But for that you would need a smuggler,” he said.
“For which we would pay double,” Balin reassured.
The bargeman agreed to let the company on and as you were passing him you ask.
“Do you have a name? Or should we just call you bargeman?” you asked with an amused tone. 
“Bard, my name is Bard,” he responded. 
“And if I may ask, what is yours my lady?” You smiled and handed him one of your arrows. 
“Y/N, and here, I did destroy your arrow after all”. Bard looked at the finely crafted arrow and seemed confused?
“Lady Y/N, my bow is not worthy of such fine craftmanship. I cannot accept your arrow,” he said gently. 
“See it as payment for your kindness,” you said and smiled. Before you stepped on the barge you looked back at him. 
“I saw your skills with the bow, best I’ve seen from a man, and even better than most elves,” you said. He smiled at your words. Bard was flattered that you though so highly of his skills. It made him wonder what you have seen and most of all, who you were
.…
As the dwarves were forced to hide in the barrels of fish, you had a chance to speak to Bard again. 
“How far is it to Lake Town?” you asked. He turned to you and pointed. 
“It’s over there, so not far at all my lady,” he answered kindly. 
“Y/N is fine, no need for formalities,” you said. You hadn’t told Bard about who you actually were, but he was smart enough to understand that you were important in the elven realm. He saw it on your clothes, it was fabric of the finest quality, any elf would know that it was royal. Luckily Bard was no elf, you didn’t want him to know who you were, not yet anyway. 
“I never got an answer before by the riverbank. Why are you protecting these dwarves?” he asked. 
You let out a sight and answered, “Let’s just say that I’m helping them find their way home,” He knew that it wasn’t the whole story, so he pushed you a bit further. 
“Someone is hunting them, the barrels were all scuffed and beaten,” he said. 
You sighted, Bard had to know a little to be able to trust you. 
“Yes, an orc pack is hunting us and not any at that. Azog the defiler is after us. I don’t know why, but I know that he’s dangerous,” you answered seriously. Bard looked at you and now understood why you desperately needed his assistants. 
“And what of the elven King?” he asked. You couldn’t tell him how important you were to Thranduil. So, you lied. 
“The elven King imprisoned the company when we entered the Greenwood, they escaped through the cellar in these barrels. I lived in those halls once, a long time ago. I guess I am a deserter,” you answered.
“Used to live there?” he pointed at your green and silver attire. 
“That seems rather new and not what a deserter would wear,” he said. He was clever. 
“I was not treated as a prisoner, but as a guest. I am acquainted with the King,” you answered. 
“Then he must be quite upset now that you released his prisoners,” he chuckled.
You laughed with him and then answered more seriously, “The dwarves were capable of freeing themselves, I think he is more upset of my departure.” 
And indeed, he was. 
Legolas stood before his father, he was not happy. They had just interrogated the orc and Legolas felt desperate to follow you. He hadn’t known Azog was after you until now. 
“How could they escape, and why would you tell her about it?” Thranduil said angrily. 
“I did what was right father!” Legolas answered. Thranduil pointed at him.
“You have betrayed me son!” he yelled. Legolas stood with pride and stared at his father. 
“The dwarves were never supposed to be our prisoners. You are the one that betrayed her!” Legolas yelled. 
“She should never have brought them here,” Thranduil answered coldly. Legolas was tired of his father. He couldn’t see what was right or wrong. 
“I know how much this means to her, so I let her go. Something you couldn’t,” he answered fiercely. 
“Enough, you should go,” Thranduil said annoyed. Legolas turned around to leave but stopped to say one last thing.
“I lost her to you know, I want nothing more than to see her in these halls once again. But mother will fight for what she believes in,” Legolas said sadly. Thranduil didn’t know what to answer so Legolas continued. 
“If I can help her, I will! And so should you father,” he said before following Tauriel and finding you. 
Thranduil wanted nothing more than to be by your side. But how could he help you when you helped the enemy. All he ever wanted was for you to return for centuries. He still blames himself for your death, because you sacrificed yourself for him. But this time he knew he couldn’t sit around and hope that you would return. This time he needed to be by your side, he needed to fight for you.
“Guards, prepare for battle, we are marching to the mountain and for war.”
You reached the town gate after a time on the lake. Bard turned to you and pulled up your hood. 
“Let me do the talking, do not reveal who you are,” he commanded. You nodded, you already trusted Bard. He handed a piece of paper to the guard at the gate. The guard was friendly and wanted to let Bard through. 
“There all in order!” the guard said. 
“Not so fast,” a dark-haired man said from the shadows. He took the piece of paper that Bard had given the guard. He looked smug. 
“Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland realm,” he read and pointed at the barrels. “Only they’re not empty. Are they Bard? If I recall correctly, you’re licensed as a bargeman. Not a fisherman,” he said.
“That’s none of your business!” Bard warned. 
“Wrong! It’s the master’s business, which makes it my business,” the man sneered. 
“Oh come on Alfrid. Have a hea-,” Bard was cut off by your hand on his shoulder. 
Alfrid looked at you with suspicious eyes and said, “And who do we have here, feeling lonely at night ey Bard?” Alfrid said with a dirty look. 
Once again you removed your hood. Your long hair was glistening in the daylight, cascading in beautiful waves and braided to reveal your elven ears. The man in front of you was gasping at your appearance. Much less discrete then what Bard had done before. Although, he too was once again taken by your beauty. 
“My Lord, I am Y/N of the Woodland Realm and I have come to gift you these supplies from King Thranduil himself,” you lied. Bard were watching your every move, he couldn’t interfere. 
“M-my Lady, pleasure to have you ere with us. I will personally escort you to the master’s keep, we are so grateful for your gift,” Alfrid said nervously. You smiled and shook your head.
“That won’t be necessary my lord. This kind man has offered me shelter, that is all I need,” you answered and gently stroke Bards arm.
“But my Lady, he, Bard is a nobody, not even worthy of your presence,” he said a bit annoyed. You stepped closer to Alfrid and took his hands in yours.
“I see every man, woman and child as equals. That is why the King has sent me. I need no luxury, I only want to help the people, that is why my visit is so discrete,” you smiled at him. He looked as if he was in love. He gulped and nodded at you. 
“As you wish my fair Lady,” he said and kissed your hand. You smiled at him (not meaning it of course). 
Something stirred in Bard when he watched Alfrid being so close to you. He knew that you were only putting up an act but the way Alfrid looked at you disgusted him. He was taken by your words though, you sounded like a true ruler. He knew you meant every word you said about the people. He admired that. So Alfrid let you go, and the barge continued on into the city. 
Next chapter will contain a lot of fluff so stay tuned!
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kikizoshi · 4 years
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Dostoyevsky’s Proposal
Written in the style of War and Peace. In this AU, Fyodor’s position is pretty much like an unmarried woman in the 19th century, as are many men in his time.
@poppirocks - Congrats on 400, and here’s to many more :)
~2.5k
“How kind of you to join me, Nikolai Vasilievich. I trust you’ll stay long?”
          Dostoyevsky smiled, welcoming his guest into the drawing-room.
          “Not at all, not at all!” Gogol waved his arms in amiable protest. “That is, not at all of kindness, of course I’ll stay! If anything, I’m the one humbled by your kindness of honouring me with an invitation.”
          Dostoyevsky laughed softly. “You say that, and yet what if I should have invited you a week prior, when I sent out all of my other invitations? Surely you would have… taken ill. From the excitement, I mean.”
          “Of course, of course,” Gogol dismissed playfully, “From excitement, or some spring fever. I might’ve been pulled away but look--” he spread his arms wide, “here I am, a whole man, with no need for worry.”
          “And what a man you are,” Dostoyevsky smiled graciously. His comment, though perhaps a bit odd, was quite in-keeping with their relationship. Ten years had passed since either had seen the other, and though they sent frequent letters, meeting once more was a clean breath of fresh air.
          “Sit, please.” Dostoyevsky insisted. “No, not there, that chair is horribly uncomfortable. Here, on the chaise with me. Don’t worry, no one will talk. There’s no reason to.” The tan-and-gold chaise in question, situated as it was very near to a piano, rendered its occupants practically unhearable should the piano be occupied as well. For this event, Dostoyevsky’s trusted servant, Vanya, happened to be performing a string of popular and robust German compositions. 
          “Now, I’m sure you’ve wondered why I invited you here…” He paused politely, and Gogol nodded with evident interest. “Well, I’ll tell you. I have a proposition. Not a horrid one, please, don’t give me such a vile look. I know how you love games. And as you know, I have a love for you, extending to your games, but moreso my love is in myself, and I too have a fondness for certain types of games...”
          “And so your point?” Gogol laughed. “I should think we know each other enough to forgo the formalities by now.”
          “Very well then... I’ll tell you plainly.” Dostoyevsky turned, so as to be sure to be heard by Gogol. “I propose a roulette, only not in a casino, but with a gun, in my chambers. I have a revolver. American, I think.”
          Gogol smiled, amusement crinkling in his eyes, “Of course he wouldn’t know the maker of his own pistol.”
          “Do you mind?”
          “Oh, no, don’t mind me!” Gogol said merrily, “Please, continue.”
          “Yes, so as I was saying, I propose that sort of game.”
          “So what, you’d like me dead?” Gogol asked, though not without humour. “Or you want me to kill you? Why not just have a duel, then?”
          “I don’t want a /duel/,” Dostoyevsky spat the word out, as though even speaking it was beneath him, “And my aim isn’t for one of our deaths. No, what interests me is a certain… other thing, which will become clearer to you later in the night. For now, however, I ask you to humour me blindly, as your friend, and trust that I shan’t lead you astray.”
          “He speaks clearly and earnestly,” said Gogol, “and yet I wonder still at his intentions. If you truly don’t wish for my death--which you’ve stated implicitly enough--then, well, what else am I to make of it? Forgive my saying so, but is there any other conclusion I could draw?”
          “Perhaps not for the time being, which is why I beg you again for your trust. I’ll bow for it if you like, only not here. In fact, please follow me directly, as we’ve no reason to waste another moment.” And there he stood, gesturing for Gogol to do the same.
          “I say, you’ve surely gone mad.”
          “And what if I have,” Dostoyevsky replied with a smile, “There’s nothing awful about that, is there?”
          “Nothing awful? What an idea! But come, sit, for I will not follow you, not for anything. If you put a gun to my head I wouldn’t follow you now,” Gogol laughed as he said the last part, evidently taken with his own joke. “So here, your chaise is ever so comfortable, and why not enjoy it a while with an old friend, before getting down to business? No, don’t pull on my arm. It won’t do you any good and you’ll cause a scene. Sit, I say!”
          Indeed, Gogol wasn’t wrong in his assumption of a scene; the two of them had gathered a sort of crowd consisting of side-eyed stares and occasional whispers. Dostoyevsky, defeated, sat with as much decorum as he could muster next to Gogol, and began to tap his leg in agitation. Gogol smiled and lounged back.
          “Now,” he continued, “Surely you’ve other matters to discuss than only a gun-based roulette.”
          “What would you have me say?”
          “Hm, well, tell me of your engagement! There’s no end of gossip there. At least, the rumours I’ve heard are enough to fill a quarter of the River Styx.”
          Dostoyevsky further deflated. “But they’re just that: rumours. What’s more to say?”
          “Oh, but there’s more to it than that! Much more!” Gogol exclaimed. “For one, I heard that Princess K----- has her eye on you. Though not only one eye, from the way people talk, her vision is quite melonomic towards anyone else! And then there are the two princes, who for a long time now have fought mercilessly for your favour. They’ve even duelled, not once, but twice! Then there are the clerks, the merchants, some hussars…” (He named a considerable list which I will spare the reader.) “In fact, I’d say the whole of Petersburg has its eye on you! And you ask, ‘What’s more to say’.”
          “I see you’ve soaked up quite the bit of gossip, despite the short time since your arrival. It’s strange we’ve not met before. With how you talk, surely you’ve attended several of Anna Pavlovna’s soirees. Yet I’ve not seen a hint of you anywhere.”
          “Oh, well that was a purposeful slip,” Gogol laughed. “Yes, I did go, to her soirees and many other social gatherings, but my heart was not in it. I spoke dully about politics, gave only the blandest of smiles to those who approached me, half the time I felt horribly faint... And how could I let my dearest friend see me in such a state? No, even if I was presentable to most, well, ‘most’ see nothing but what’s put in front of them. Yes, we’re all ostriches with our heads in the sand. Stick us with a hot iron, even, and we’ll just bury deeper.”
          “Maybe so,” Dostoyevsky said, “but then, you’re still a bird in that way, so perhaps half of your goal is already realised.”
          Gogol stared blankly at Dostoyevsky for a time. “What use is there in being an ostrich?” He asked finally. “Ostriches cannot fly.”
          Dostoyevsky failed to hide a coy smirk. “They’re rather adept at running, however. You could easily run, run, run away from every pressing issue--you’d leave any cage shrouded in dust long before it thought of imprisoning you. You’d be quite tasty, too.”
          Gogol raised his eyes suggestively. “You wouldn’t need such a form to taste me. And in any case, if being an ostrich is all as you say it is, then am I not already one?”
          “Oh, no, you’re still quite a man, I’m afraid. Though that, too, is perhaps a good thing. If you are a man, then, naturally, you’ll have the capacity to rationalise emotionally and mentally through your vices. One day you may even find grace.”
          Gogol sighed wearily. “Why is it,” said he, “that it may only be one at a time between the two of us who is allowed to be happy?”
          Dostoyevsky gave him a pitying look. “A balance you seem to keep readily.”
          “You suppose?” Gogol sighed, leaning his head back, aggravated, against the mahogany of the chaise’s back, and closed his eyes.
          Silence passed several moments like that; the chatter of the guests and gliding piano notes created a white noise which transported both men into a meditational state. The underlying melancholy both easily felt, yet they passed through it in their own ways: Dostoyevsky letting it wash over him and Gogol stamping it under his boot, grinding it under his teeth for good measure. Eventually, as Dostoyevsky nearly felt himself be lost completely, he broke the spell.
          “If you wish to know the truth,” he said, “then I’ll speak it plainly: I’ve no suitable suitor. There have been rumours of such a thing, but they are mostly in jest. If some have been taken by them, and took such things seriously, it still means nothing--there isn’t one man or woman in our town who wishes to make me their betrothed. For who would?” He smiled a self-deprecating smile. “An invalid doesn’t make for a good match.”
          “Ah yes! Who would want an idiot of a betrothed--but a rich idiot is another case entirely--but for your money. Last you wrote, you explained that your dowry had been raised, so that it now lands something over seventy-thousand. I know thirty men alone who would marry for that--ten of a higher class than you, for your family is held in quite high esteem.”
          Dostoyevsky grimaced. “Yes, and in fact, you are quite right about that. And in fact, I’ve met with several good men who I’ll be happy to accept should one give an offer…”
          “So what is the matter with you?”
          “Yes, indeed, what is the matter…” Dostoyevsky trailed off once more, bringing up a finger to his teeth and gnawing, first gently but soon quite viciously, at it. It wasn’t until his reddened finger appeared just about to split that he forced it from his mouth to continue. “What is the matter, is that… I don’t wish to marry for such a… Which isn’t to say that I don’t wish to marry for my family, or that I wish to marry for love. I know the ridiculity of both ideas, and neither are particularly accurate. Only… I cannot shake the idea that in marrying, I’ll be losing something… Something that I can’t define will be lost, or perhaps it won’t… The whole matter gives off a horrible feeling, as though nothing can be done and, no matter what, something awful can and will come of it.” Again, he paused. Looking to Gogol, he hoped the other would say something, but as the look on his face was merely passively attentive, Dostoyevsky sighed and continued.
          “There was another time,” Dostoyevsky said, “when I considered marrying, although marriage wasn’t a possibility for that man, and I’m quite sure--as I was at the time--that such a union would only have ended in tragedy. Still… That man, from some country far southward of ours and across an ocean, he was the only one I’ve met who could challenge me at chess. We went on for hours at a time, and each second felt simultaneously as a blink and as an era. Rarely had I been so excited. And at that time, genuinely, I considered making /him/ an offer, as unconventional as it might have been… Of course, I fiercely hated him too. He was an incorrigible man, a flirt and with so much bravado I feared his chest couldn’t bear the weight, and above all he was barely a noble. There was no hope in it but still… I dreamed...
          “But now I am twenty-two, and in not four years I shall be twenty-six. I should have married years ago, but I’ve never had the heart for it, and I fear my reasons are nothing but selfish. It’s my vice, but… I’m afraid. I’m afraid to change my mind, for what if the awful does happen… Though even then it should not matter. I should trust in my husband, and if all does not come to be exactly as I wish it, then God has sent the trial for my own sake.” Dostoyevsky’s tone was convincing, as though he himself did not believe his words but was desperately trying to rectify the fact.
          Gogol, after a moment, laughed. “If beating you over chess is the only prerequisite, even Vanya could become your groom. Why be so pessimistic, in that case?”
          “You think Vanya would beat me?” Dostoyevsky shook his head seriously. “No--he wouldn’t do it. No one here would, for they are too full of virtue. You alone are the only man here who would think of such a thing.”
          “Heh, well,” Gogol tapped his temple with a chuckle, “perhaps I should never have been invited at all, if I lack such virtue… And yet you speak of it not as something terrible, but rather as a curious state which you’re happy to welcome into not only your drawing room, but your private chambers! Be careful now--I fear the Devil is whispering in your ear.”
          “Well now,” Dostoyevsky laughed, “And what of Turgenev? He has far worse problems than I, in that regard.”
          “Oh? Poor, poor Turgenev, we mustn’t speak of him.” Gogol’s eyes practically glittered, a twist of amusement swirling down his face and throughout his being. He was evidently vastly excited to speak about Turgenev.
          “Maybe so, but please, explain to a poor invalid.”
          “Oh, if I must! I see there is no getting round you.” Gogol threw his hands up, feigning coercion, and readily continued. “You see, there was this new woman--I know not her name--who took him quite quickly and even more thoroughly. She not only agreed to take him in as her slave (a notion, if you’ll remember, that his dear Victoria--lover of a distant past and oh! how he’ll miss her--blanched at in the beginning), but this new she, how shall I say…” Gogol looked around, as though noticing their company for the first time, and met with several curious (and several accusing) stares. “She… gave to him a… new, and hitherto unfathomed ‘pastry’ to which, I fear, he was quite addicted from the first lick. Now, there’s no saving him. Bless his poor soul.”
          “You speak as though from experience.”
          “Oh! Can you imagine? Heh-heh, no no, I can’t--it simply couldn’t happen. Now, with someone else, in a different place, I’m sure my feelings would be quite different,” Again, a suggestive look was sent towards Dostoyevsky, “but as for him? No. I could never.”
          Dostoyevsky huffed softly, a gentle, amused sheen shone in his eyes. “I’d love to hear more, if you’d be so kind, although I fear such conversation is rather intense for settings such as this…”
          “Oh, anything is too much for everyone nowadays! Bless our Russia… But, won’t your appearance be missed? Everyone is here by your invitation, and what would they think if their dear leader were to leave them so suddenly?”
          “They’ll think nothing of it--I won’t be missed. Come.” Again, Dostoyevsky rose, and again, he extended his hand to Gogol, which this time was accepted, and the two men left the drawing-room. One of the men’s thoughts rested in a dark cabinet beside a small, silver revolver.
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creativerogues · 5 years
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1d10 Ways To Explain Your D&D Character’s Amnesia...
You were captured! And your Brain partially devoured by a hungry Mind Flayer. You managed to escape its grasp, but not before your memories became forfeit.
You walked across one of the many forest circles into the Feywild as a Child. You lived a crazy but happy life there, and saw things no regular man, woman or child could see. That was until you wandered back into the Prime Material Plane, and suddenly those memories scattered, and you were left as a being with no memory, alone in the woods… (See ‘Fey Crossings: Memory Loss’, Page 50 of the Dungeon Master’s Guide).
You were once a powerful Wizard that knew their own mortality. In a fit of desperation, you crafted a Clone of yourself, younger and more perfect in almost every way. But when you died of a combination of old age and madness, something went wrong. You woke up in the younger body of your Clone, but your memories were lost. But every now and again, you remember the spells of your past, if only you could remember them so well as to cast them…
You were once a Prodigy, a Wizard with a sharp mind. So great was your intellect that you were brought before a Local Member of Nobility who wished to employ you as their Diplomatic Representative and Adviser to their Workings. You sat down with them and their Family, until you noticed a thin red string of ooze behind each of them. Before you could react, the Oblex struck at your mind. Your memories quickly became scattered and faded as you ran from the attacking creature. You escaped, but collapsed. When you woke up, all you remember saying is the Noble’s Name and “Red String”. And to this day, you still check people for that suspicious “Red String”.
A Deal with a mighty Devil cost you your memories in exchange for phenomenal arcane powers. You often wonder what you were like back then. Were you Married? Were you a Parent? Or even a Traitor? And that seems to bring an amusing smile to your face…
Perhaps you were a great hero, or a well-loved citizen, or some lonely cleric just took pity on you. You don’t remember… Thanks to a failed resurrection ritual, you were indeed brought back to life, but brought back with no memories of before…
You have a great fear of caves, the underground, and most of all the weather. Perhaps because your mind was shattered by the maddening winds of Pandemonium. How did you get there you might ask, were you imprisoned there by some otherworldly being, or did you venture there of your own volition? (See ‘Pandemonium: Mad Winds’, Page 62 of the Dungeon Master’s Guide).
Your memories were snatched away from you by a powerful mage, perhaps because you knew too much about a certain someone or a certain something…
You’re originally from the Prime Material Plane, but travelled to Elysium on some sort of extra-planar pilgrimage. How did you get there? You don’t remember. All you remember is staring at those pearly white beaches, never willing to leave. (See ‘Elysium: Overwhelming Joy’, Page 60 of the Dungeon Master’s Guide)
Your mind was shattered by the Abyssal Demon Lords. Sometimes you can still feel their maddening presence...
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lynneshobbydomain · 4 years
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Gundham. And Kokichi. And ferrets. This isn't a shipping ask, but a scene with them seems interesting.
(Hey Anon so sorry for the long wait! I hope that you enjoy this! I haven’t played SDR2 in a while so it took me a bit to see if i could get Gundham’s character down. I hope I did alright! Please enjoy this story, as I had so much fun writing it!)
Little Thief 
Rated: G Summary: Kokichi finds a ferret and believes he knows exactly who it belongs to.
Kokichi was walking by one of the alleyways when he heard a loud CLANG and froze on the spot, carefully pedaling backwards to see what was going on. Sometimes he found people dumpster diving for the hell of it, and sometimes he found people that he could use in his secret organization (how do you think he got to 12,000 people already? He could almost hear Saihara sigh wistfully like a maiden who was exhausted by society’s shortcomings and tell him that was a lie). He could hear whoever it was rummaging furiously through the rolling garbage bin as though they were scrambling for something. Maybe it was a racoon? Weren’t they nocturnal though? Unable to keep his curiosity in check, Kokichi walked further into the alleyway to the garbage bin, watching amused as papers were flying out. He got down on his hands and knees and blinked when he saw a furry slinky.
“Aren’t you supposed to be like, domesticated or something?” Kokichi asked as he reached in and tried to pull the thing out. God he never thought that he’d feel such soft fur, and this thing needed a bath. Ugh the smell was unbelievable and it didn’t help that they were through a garbage bin of all things. The ferret kept slipping out of his grip like a wet soap bar in the middle of the shower. He wondered if this was how Shuichi felt when he was trying to grapple with his anxiety. (Maybe that metaphor went a little too far). 
Kokichi struggled with maintaining the grip and coaxing the ferret out, getting just as dirty and smelly as the animal that he was trying to fight. “How did you even get in there?” He grumbled. “Wait, I wonder if you’re one of Tanaka-chan’s.” He brought the ferret up closer and yipped when it started to try to weasel itself out of his hands. “Oh no you don’t you furry ribbon boneless creature.” He tightened his hold and struggled to get back to his feet. 
The ferret was indeed long and skinny in length. The fur was a striped snow white and stormy grey with a white beak and a sakura colored nose. The beady eyes were trying to look innocently up at Kokichi, but the D.I.C.E supreme leader knew better than to fall for that trap. Nothing was innocent about dragging a tiny school boy into a garbage bin. (OKay he knew that he did that all on his own, but it was fun to think about).
Now came the hard part. If Tanaka was missing a ferret there’d be school signs right? Tanaka was more or less pretty uptight about where his animals were and he was always vigilant about letting the whole school know when one of them was missing. Kokichi racked his brains trying to come up with a memory of Tanaka posting up flyers recently, but couldn’t think of anything.
Still...Kokichi looked at the struggling creature that was clearly wanting to get back in the garbage bin. (Maybe it wants to slither up against Kokichi’s neck. He could be the new mascot of D.I.C.E! No, better not get too attached to that idea anytime soon). He tucked the creature closer against his body. The only way to know was to go bother the Supreme Overlord of Ice. 
It was just a good thing that the 77 class’s dorms weren’t too far away from here. “Okay little long mouse, let’s go find your daddy and then I can take a shower.” Kokichi lectured the furry creature as he made his way across the school yard. Unlike his own class, 77 didn’t really care about his pranks or about his tall tales. They let him have his fun, but they were fast to pick up on the fact that he was lying, telling the truth, or was just goading them on. Tsumiki was his favorite to prank sometimes, but so was Saijoni when she got an attitude. 
He didn’t mean anyone on his way to the dorms and whether that was a blessing or a curse, Kokichi didn’t know. He made his way down the 77’s class hall and found Tanaka’s dorm room. “Okay this is where we part.” He told the ferret. “I’m going to give you back, and we’re all gucci.”
He knocked a couple of times on the door. “Tanaka-chaaannnnn!!!! I need help!!!!! I found a fur baby and I think it’s yours!!! Tanaka-chaaaannnn-”
The door swung open swiftly. “You did not need to call me in such an annoying tone, clown prince of lies. I heard you when you kno-” The heterochromatic stood in front of the doorway as imposing as Kokichi wished he could be. (Curse his short stature). His long red scarf tailed behind Gundham’s back along with the purple overcoat that he wore. His left arm was still heavily bandaged and he only wore the one earring. Sonia said that it got lost at the beach but Gundham was for certain that it had disappeared into the abyssal realm as a sacrifice. 
(Kokichi still had it somewhere...he thought).
“What is that infernal beast doing in your hold?” Tanaka spoke slowly.
Kokcihi pouted, “What?! Do you think we couldn’t be friends?! That’s so mean of you, Tanaka-chan, I just might cry! I found this little poor baby in a garbage bin. Have a bit of mercy!”
“I would not be surprised if the Thieves of Hell decided you to be their infernal partner.” Tanaka blinked slowly. “Alas, as good of a creature as that is, they do not belong to me. They must have sought you out specifically. Come! You have done well to come to me for aid! I will teach you how to tame the beast! I will not break such a strong bond so easily!”
“Eh?” Kokichi felt like he just got whiplashed and it wasn’t easy for him to feel like that. Then again, Tanaka was probably the only one in this school that could give him something like that. “Wait hold on! This isn’t yours? They aren’t yours?”
“No. I do not tame many thieves of hell as I would like. My Four Devas are handful enough. Are you going to come in or not?” Tanaka demanded and Kokichi felt compelled to at least hear him out. He closed the door behind him, not really knowing what he was getting himself into.
“Do you know much about ferrets?” Kokichi asked as Tanka found a two-tiered cage in his closet (honestly that man was prepared to find any animal wasn’t he? It was already prepared for an animal’s welcome too. Specifically a rodent’s). 
“I must know plenty of the different beats of hell if I am to remain as I am as a tamer.” Tanka replied easily. “You will find, clown prince of lies, that they are similar to you in spirit as they are similar to you in personality. I have no reason to suspect any harm will come to them as long as they are in your care. Though be warned! They are picky as they are clever. They can get out of any imprisonment they so chose to. Food must be to their liking. I will provide you as such so that you have something for now.”
Kokichi blinked, “What makes you think I’m gonna take it home with me? Tanaka-chan is being awfully assumptious. I was just trying to give the fur baby back to you! I’m too young to be a daddy!”
“What makes you think I would break your bond? If having such an infernal creature is too much for you I can break the seal and contract.” Tanaka offered. “Perhaps that may be for the best?”
A sudden fear gripped on to Kokichi. He just wanted to give the ferret back and go on his merry way. But...if it wasn’t Gundham’s and no one was going to claim it...then maybe the creature could be useful after all! (Kokichi still remembers finding Shuffle against the garbage bin when she was just getting started in middle school. He remembers having to scavenge to eat. He remembers…) “Nishishishi~ if you’re so busy with your hamsters, I can watch a ferret for a while. It’s not a big deal.” It was a huge deal. 
“It is quite rude for us to assume gender, but I believe if I’m looking correctly you have a female. You may wish to be careful with her.” Tanaka mused thoughtfully as he took the creature from Kokichi and allowed it to climb up his arms. “They will get up to any places you may find hard to reach and if you train them well they can be a valuable asset to you.” The ferret suddenly wrapped itself around Tanaka’s neck, but it was an easy tug and pull to put the creature into the cage. “I unfortunately do not have much in ways of entertainment for the poor creature. So you may have to go out and get some. Partners like this do not come to you easily. Bonding and being a part of their fleeting lives is a sacred promise and one you should uphold to your best.”
“You sure know a lot about animals.” Kokichi casually crossed his arms behind his head. “I just wonder how it got on to school property if it’s not one of yours.”
“Infernal beasts have an instinct that I do not fully understand myself. Perhaps she knew that she was destined to be with someone at the school and came to it’s siren’s call. You were lead by fate and now you have met.” Tanaka said simply as he double checked the cage and then held it out towards Kokichi. “You should come to me for more aid should you have need. My door is open.”
“Your cellphone number would be better.”
“The last time I gave it to you, clown prince of lies, you gave me nothing but images of things you call “memes”. I believe I had the right to revoke such a right.” Tanaka deadpanned.
“Awww.” Kokichi pouted. “We were so close too. Alright, I guess I’ll...figure out a way to smuggle this into my dorm room. Ciao sunflower seed!” 
                                                        X
Unbeknown to either of them, Shuichi had a flyer in his hands looking for a grey and white striped ferret that had gotten out of someone’s apartment complex. The name Tinkerbell was scrawled in a hasty flourish. “Now where could you have gone…” 
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innaminitus · 5 years
Text
Knife Brothers #1
Summary: What if Thor handed Loki to Hydra? What if Loki, with his all rage, decided to ruin the organisation for disrespecting him? What if he freed Bucky at the process? What if they became friends? 
Warnings: graphic descriptions of homicide
Word count: 2380
A/N: EDIT: I WILL ONLY TAG YOU IF YOU ASK FOR IT IN A TAG LIST POST LINKED BELOW 
The idea is from HERE, I did as I promised and wrote it! Have fun, add yourself to the TAG LIST
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There he was again. Captured.
This time it wasn’t his plan at all.
Maybe it was for the better, after all. He would get back home, Odin would shake his finger on him and he would get back to tricking Thor and reading books.
It wasn’t like it was all his fault, after all. Not that anyone would ever listen to what he had to say, of course not, but at least his conscience won’t be that weighed. Loki knew the truth and whose opinion was worth more than his? Even if his back hurt from unconscious guilt, horrible migraine wouldn’t go away despite his magic and eyes wouldn’t close for long enough to let him sleep.
Maybe back in Asgard, in his own bed in his own home he would finally be able to fall asleep without fear of waking up in the middle of the nightmare his life has been for past few months.
A group of man blocking their way brought him back on Earth.
“May I ask where you’re going?” Asked an elderly man, looking less confident than he probably wanted to, in badly fitted suit and cheap haircut.
“To lunch and then Asgard,” Thor was the one to answer. “I’m sorry, you are?”
“Alexander Pierce,” said Stark. “He’s the man, one of the folks behind Nick Fury.”
So he indeed was an important person, even if his appearance didn’t show it.
“My friends call me Mr. Secretary. I’m gonna have to ask you to turn that prisoned over to me.”
Loki titled his head slightly, in a warning manner. He couldn’t speak, the metal device was efficiently muting every attempt at it. Thor’s back was turned to Loki, he couldn’t see anything his brother was trying to communicate.
No turning prisoners over. This prisoner wishes to go back to Asgard. A minute more on this planet would probably destroy his sanity to the last bits of it.
“Loki will be answering to Odin himself.”
He couldn’t help but to roll his eyes. As if Odin ever did something to actually punish his sons in any matter. It didn’t end well the last time, did it? A little bit of stress and disappointment turned Odin into grieving father, an old man with weak heart who fell asleep.
At least his brother was thinking straight. He was going to take Loki home, where he could finally rest.
“Oh, he’s gonna answer to us. Odin can have what’s left,” Pierce spat out and Loki raised his eyebrow at these bold words. He could wipe them from this reality like the pieces of garbage they were. Odin can have what’s left. Foolish, foolish humans. Thinking they actually can be a threat to a god. “And I’m gonna need that case, that’s been SHIELD property for over seventy years.”
“Hand over the case, Stark.” One of the agents reached for it, but Stark backed out.
“We’re keeping that where we know it’s safe.” He stopped another agent with his hand. “As far as I know, you failed keeping it away from trouble. Now it’s our turn.”
“Stark, don’t cross the line with me–“
“You know what, Stark, after a second thought I think we should hand them at least one thing. Not the tesseract, obviously, but I have a feeling that Loki would have better punishment here than on Asgard,” Thor said, turning to the short man.
Loki almost choked. He couldn’t believe his ears. His own brother was giving him away to strangers who would gladly cut him to pieces just to see if he was made from the same elements as them? It made no sense whatsoever, he must’ve known they were no threat to him and he could destroy them if he pleased… He either had a plan for Loki or was just plain stupid. As far as Loki knew his brother, it was probably the latter.
“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Stark asked, his eyebrows high on his hairline.
It’s horrible idea.
“Loki will learn his lesson and we will have one less trouble to deal with.”
You’re betraying your own brother! Loki wanted to scream. But then, he remembered. Remembered how many times he was a traitor to Thor, the countless times he stabbed him, shifted the blame onto him…
It enlightened him. This oaf was taking his revenge. It wasn’t about the punishment for crimes Loki did on Earth, it was personal. Thor wanted to put Loki in a situation with no clean escape. Well played, brother. He wouldn’t expect him to be able to do such thing, and yet there he was.
“I’m not sure–“
“Well, I’ve decided for you.” Thor reached and pushed Loki’s back, forcing him to take a step in Pierce’s direction.
He sent his brother murderous stare, promising all kinds of tortures he’s going to put Thor through as soon as he breaks free.
They tossed him in a car, as if he was an object, not a god they’re supposed to worship and treasure. He wondered whether he should just deal with the problem right now, kill the agents sitting before him, destroy the car, slap his brother across his face and go back to Asgard, or… have some fun.
He could, after all, use his uncomfortable position for his own amusement. Wouldn’t it be fun to ruin their precious little organisation from the inside, destroy their systems, kill their men? Mischievous smirk crawled on his face, thankfully hidden by the metal piece still covering his face. They will remember him very well.
*
With the same gentleness they tossed him in the car, they dragged him out of it in the middle of a military base. He looked around, searching for any useful information about the place. Escapes, weak spots, amount of men, their weapons. He noticed there were no trainees, a whole lot of soldiers armed to their teeth and about the same amount of scientists.
The silence fell when he walked through the base, curious looks were shot at his direction, and silent whispers didn’t fail to be heard. It was hard for him to decide whether they were sure of their victory or scared to death, they tried very hard not to show emotions in front of Pierce, who however seemed to be too arrogant to even pay attention to his own men.
They dragged him through the corridors and hallways as if they were showing off their success, how the marvellous Alexander Pierce and the SHIELD captured and imprisoned the dangerous God of Mischief himself. A truly heroic achievement.
If only they had any chance to actually threaten him.
He looked around as he moved forward, sending a slender beam of his magic to check behind the closed doors, not finding anything particularly interesting. That is, until they nearly pushed him down the stairs, visibly enjoying treating him like a ragdoll. It was the basement where his magic started to finally sense anything more than just offices and conference halls.
It wasn’t SHIELD’s base. At least not the SHIELD he’s known. Suspicious laboratories, chemicals he could scent on the corridor, sweat, fear, exhaustion, rage. Feelings that were so painfully known to him were hanging in the air.
He wasn’t scared now, no. After what he’s been through he probably lost the ability to feel anything but disappointment and fury. Besides, there was nothing to be afraid of. Humans? These fragile beings he could snap in half with a flick of his fingers? Nothing more than ants under his shoe.
One of the soldiers with useless in fight with Loki rifles opened a metal door, leading to a laboratory. He barely took a step and sensed somebody approach him quickly. He tried to turn, but the chains and surrounding him people prevented him from doing that, and he didn’t want to show his advantage just yet. A needle sunk into his neck, tranquilizer spilled in his veins, but it was too weak to do anything more than just make his fingertips numb for a second of two.
“You were supposed to give him the same you give to the Soldier!” Pierce shouted and Loki couldn’t help but roll his eyes. As if his body was as weak as human’s.
“I did!”
He really did wanted to play for a bit longer with his new friends, but they didn’t seem to enjoy his company too much. He began to freeze the chains and the metal piece on his face, causing everyone to panic.
Really, what did they expect from a god? To be obedient little thing that would follow every order they give? Wrong address.
“Kill him! Kill him!”
He allowed himself another eye roll and broke free from everything that was strangling him.
Bullets flew in his direction, but he stopped them with a single wave of his hand and summoned his daggers. How good it felt to have them back in his hands, fitting like gloves.
One sunk into somebody’s neck, muting every sound of protest.
One he didn’t deliver perfectly and it dived into an eyeball, crimson trail flew from the injured socket.
Another cut in the neck, because that’s the most efficient.
He hit aorta, the blood splattered on his face and stained his clothes.
With annoyance he turned to the last living creature in the room, Pierce crawling to the door, desperately trying to call for help. Loki flicked his fingers and a split second later materialised his clone in front of Pierce.
“Please… Please…” He cried, some of the blood of his men was on his suit.
“Please what?” The clone titled his head and dragged Pierce up by his collar.
“Don’t kill me… I’ll do anything!” He tried to take his hands off of him, but even if it was only a clone, it was still much stronger than Pierce could ever be.
Loki walked to them calmly, the secretary pierced to the wall, writhing and trying to break free, his panic enlarging as he noticed there was not one, but two gods in front of him. Loki’s hand shot to his forehead, his magic wrapping around Pierce’s brain, moulding the memories and knowledge to his liking.
How small were humans’ brains… How little did they fit, how much they hid in the depths of unconsciousness, covered traumas, blurred what’s not frequently used…
Useless memories, useless dreams… That wasn’t what Loki was searching for. He dug deeper, heard a scream of the man held by three arms.
There. Something useful.
Knowledge floated him, blinding him for a quarter of a second before complete darkness muted his magic. He blinked a few times, his vision focused back on Pierce, on his empty eyes and lack of pulse.
“Hmm,” he let him go and watched as his body fell on the floor like a puppet, “looks like I broke something.”
He shrugged and walked to the door, his clone already gone. For a second he just wanted to call Heimdall and go back to Asgard, but what he just saw in Pierce’s head made him change his mind.
Apparently the facility he was at wasn’t SHIELD at all, even if the signs on the walls told him differently. It was just a blind for another organisation called Hydra, created for a drastically different reason.
What if he just… stayed for a while longer, took his sweet revenge for disrespecting him in so many ways? Not that he was so eager to receive punishment from Odin, after all.
He cracked his fingers and got out.
The alarm was already off, someone must’ve heard the shots. That was even better for him. Panic was his feast.
By the time he reached the end of the corridor, his daggers, clothes and skin were soaking in different kinds of blood, his ears full of different kinds of screams.
However the scream he heard next was drastically different from the ones he caused. It was a scream of a man, hidden somewhere near. He searched through Pierce’s memories until he found the right one.
Winter Soldier.
And what if he stole Hydra’s most precious weapon? Fixed him with his magic to make him as normal as he was when they captured him seventy years ago? A smirk showed on his face again. Yes… That was even better than just killing the Soldier.
He took a few turns in the labyrinth of corridors and hallways, using Pierce’s memory of where the man was held. He heard more agents approaching him, he felt their fear faster than he actually saw him and sighed when they thought that bullets would stop him.
He changed into his Jotun form, the disgusting smell of panic filled his lungs when the men before him desperately tried to reload their guns.
Not fast enough.
Frost and ice pierced them in every way possible, the blood that floated from the wounds froze almost instantly, creating diabolical rays, icicles on their frostbitten dead bodies.
He moved them aside with his magic and continued his walk, still in Jotun form. The Soldier screamed again, just in time for Loki’s rapid entrance.
The scientists were surrounding the man, attempting to unleash him from a disturbing chair with many metal pieces, tubing and devices he didn’t even know how could be used.
He titled his head at the scientist’s poor attempts to attack him with scalpel and it quickly changed its path, dipping into the scientist’s throat. While one of them managed to escape, another one was more courageous, jumping at Loki with a needle, probably another tranquilizer. The god reached a hand in his direction, placed it on a heart and froze the organ, another dead body fell before his feet.
Loki walked slowly to the Soldier, who was trying to break free from the binding him metal handcuffs. Without hesitation he pressed his palm onto Soldier’s forehead, cleaning his memories, bringing forward who he was before Hydra, clearing his mind from all the mess the scientists created. When he backed away, the Soldier, James, as he read from his memories, was calm. Loki reached to the metal device in his mouth and took it off before freeing him from the handcuffs.
“What do you say, my friend? Shall we destroy them?”
 ___
Tag list: @lokihiddleston @sherlocked-bitch @buckysknifecollection @lecoindenox @valhalla-ally @daddyloki @fuckythebuckybarnes @phantomhiiives @get0verit @it-jinxed-us @gayatri5
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