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kchuarts · 3 years

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Flowers in Blood

A/N: This chapter will be a little surprising..

Summary: Daniel shows how ruthless he can truly be

Warnings: Death and abuse

Taglist: @lucywrites02 @shiningloki @blo0dangel

Chapter 24: Belladonna

After the harrowing ordeal of what transpired back in China, Katie was taken back to Russia. Her very first day she was forced to marry Daniel and now had a ring on her finger. Naturally, she cried but they were not tears of happiness. While she was dressed to the nines and the dress she was put in was indeed beautiful, she could only feel sorrow. The house that Daniel lived in was one of elegance and rumored to be once occupied by the Czar. That was something Katie could believe as the palace-like structure was hidden away in the mountains. The interior had all sorts of religious paintings ranging from Angel's to cherubs to the disciples. It looked like a building from the 19th-20th century.

Some of Daniel's other wives resided in this location as well, but they were told not to interact with Katie. Only one of the wives, Nthanda from Africa, seemed eager to break that rule. The other wives that resided there were Malee from Thailand, Tahirah from Egypt, and Sabine from Germany. They were all conditioned to obey under fear as Daniel had been extremely cruel. Even speaking out of turn was rumored to earn one a beating.

Katie stared out the window of hers and Daniel's shared bedroom. She was his latest obsession and would be forced to share a bed with him. There were plenty of supervised things to do around here, but all Katie wanted to do was stare out of the window. Her hand gently rested upon her now slightly raised belly as a month had passed. She had to make a deal with Daniel and give her child up for adoption if she did not want anything to happen to them. The leader of Belladonna warned he had no issue with accidents.

The door creaked open and Katie flinched, heart pounding and expecting it to be Daniel. "Please, let me rest. I can't do it right now." Katie begged, assuming her husband wanted to rape her again.

"It is not him. Only me." An accented voice called softly. Nthanda's head poked into the room and she slipped inside. "I have come to talk."

Katie blinked a few times, sighing out of relief that it wasn't him. "About? I don't mean to be rude, but I don't want to be the reason for you getting hurt."

Nthanda closed the door as quietly as she could and tip toed over to Katie. "I do not care about what happens to me. I want to be your friend. None of the other girls will do that and have even shunned me." She gave Katie a sad smile. "You seem different from the others." She gently took Katie's hand in hers.

Their skin tones drastically opposed each other with Katie being a pale ivory and Nthanda having dark skin. The brunette found it rather beautiful and smiled softly at Nthanda. "I would love to be your friend. You are the only person who has shown me kindness so far." A tear slipped down her cheek.

The African woman gave Katie's hand a squeeze and then released it. She fumbled in her coat pocket and pulled out some cookies. "Here. I thought we could perhaps share these while we get to know each other better. You are most welcome. In my village, we would welcome anyone of any kind. My mother always taught me that generosity goes a long way." Nthanda sat down on the ground, taking a bite of a cookie. "Do not worry, I have Daniel's route timed and we should have a good hour or two today before he comes back."

During those two hours, Katie and Nthanda spoke of where they came from and what their lives were like growing up. Hearing Nthanda's story of wanting to become an English teacher,and the struggles she went through to get there warmed Katie's heart. She found out that not too long after she became one, Daniel and his men snatched her in the middle of the night. Apparently, he had seen her in the city and even spoke with her briefly before deciding he would have her. Katie explained her situation and was hesitant to tell her new friend about Abbadon and her pregnancy.

Nthanda's beautiful, large brown eyes widened and she placed her hand on Katie's stomach. "What a lovely blessing God has given you! I mean, it is a blessing in my eyes since the child's father is the man you love. I hope we can all escape this hell, none of us deserve it. Even if the other girls are colder to us, they did nothing to deserve this fate." She removed her hand and got up, making sure she didn't leave too much evidence behind. Nthanda took Katie's hand, helping her up before giving her a large hug. "It has been such a pleasure to make a beautiful friend like you." She looked into the american woman's green eyes.

"Thank you, Nthanda. I appreciate your kindness more than you know. I look forward to our next visit." She saw her new friend out before quietly shutting the door. Katie walked back over to the window seat and resumed her place, staring out the window. She was truly grateful for Nthanda wanting to reach out to her. However, she still couldn't shake the sadness off.

"Is this what you do all day? Stare out the damn window?" Daniel had entered their room quietly, causing Katie to flinch.

The brunette woman shook her head and felt fear creep up her spine. "N-No, I don't. I read." She places her hand gently upon a novel she had found. The book was about a misunderstood and misguided prince from another world. He conquered earth and sought to rule it, but fell in love with a mortal woman.

"You should be doing neither of those. You stupid girl." Daniel growled, loosening his tie. He snapped his fingers at her and pointed to the bed.

Taking a deep breath, Katie stood from her seat and stripped herself of her clothing. She had actually been given clothes she never would have been able to afford since her arrival. With hesitant steps, she walks to the bed and lays there while completely naked. She closes her green eyes and holds back a whimper as Daniel begins his normal routine of violating Katie. All she could do to hold on was think about Jonathan and be wrapped in his arms; where she truly felt at home.

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Several hours passed by and the sky had become dark. Katie had ended up on the floor, holding the sheets to her bare body. A bruise was beginning to form on her cheek from Daniel hitting her as he raped her. The brunette wept softly, clutching the sheet and leaning against the wall next to the bed. Her hand rested upon her tiny bump as she cried, thankful that Daniel didn't hurt her baby. She gasped loudly as the doors opened, her grip on the sheet tightening.

"Oh dear, what have I stumbled upon here?" Richard walked in, shutting the door behind him. He placed his hands in his pockets and raised his eyebrows, looking around. "I think I am lost! The place is so bloody huge it's easy to become disoriented…" he stops as he can see Katie shaking and curled in a ball. "Oh come now, I'm not here to hurt you."

"Then you weren't truly lost. You knew where to find me, I'm not stupid." Katie sniffled and exhaled shakily. "What do you want?"

Roper walked towards her direction, pulling a chair out from the lounge area in the bedroom and sitting across from Katie. He rolled his eyes as he saw her flinch again. "Daniel is stupid letting people come and go in here as they please." He muttered before turning his attention back to the frightened woman. "I don't want anything from you, dear. However, without having Pine here to torment, I've grown bored." He leans back and folds his hands over his lap.

Katie narrowed her eyes and stopped her tears momentarily. "Stop bullshitting around and tell me why you are here. You came to me for a reason."

"That I did. I can see you're not one for games seeing as old Jonny boy played one too many on you." He noticed her shift uncomfortably and smirked. Roper reached into his coat pocket and pulled his phone out, dialing a number. "I am bored and want to drag my own game out a little longer… Like I said, Daniel is a bloody moron." He pressed the call button and handed his phone to Katie.

With shaky hands, the girl hesitantly took the phone and put it up to her ear. Katie stared at Roper, watching him for any sudden movements. A loud sigh answered the call.

"Roper, I thought I-" she heard Jonathan begin.

"Jonathan!!" A smile spread across her face, happy tears sliding down her cheeks. "Jonathan it's me! It's not a trick, no."

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"Kate." Jonathan covered his mouth, tears stinging his eyes and a sob building up in his chest. "Are you ok? Is he at least letting you eat?" Pine waited hesitantly for her answer. He listened as she told him that she was forced to marry him but that she had found a friend in one of his other wives. Katie was indeed being fed, bathing, and dressed in normal clothes. "Do you know where you are?" Jonathan leaned against the wall in his flat and began to chew his nails. "Russia again, huh? Make sure to threaten Roper into letting us track his signal." Pine smiled at the scoff he heard in the back from Richard. He bit his lip and sighed, "I am going to get you back. I promise you…" he paused and gulped, a curiosity eating him alive. "Is… Is it mine? The b-baby." He clarified. His heart felt like it was going to explode when she confirmed that it was his. She had taken a plan B after Travis had done all those awful things to her. There wasn't any way it couldn't be Jonathan's. He rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm going to be a dad…" the realization still hit him like a freight train, but it was all the more reason to get her back.

"Sorry, chap." Richard's voice replaced Katie's.

"Roper please . Let me track where you are so I can come get her." Jonathan begged him, now pacing. "Just one more time. Please." He sounded weak and lost. "I love her so much. I need her."

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Roper thought for a moment of how letting Jonathan track his location would benefit his little game. "Fine. This is the last favor I'll ever do." He hung up and slid his phone back in his pocket.

Katie's smile had disappeared and she looked to the floor. Her sad gaze taking residence on her pretty face.

"This is probably a horrible time to say this, but congrats mum. I guess that shag in Korea turned out to be more exciting than either of you presumed." He grinned as he saw her shoot him a dirty glare. "Come now, lass. I let you have your time with your "baby daddy" and I am letting him come to get you. You should consider yourself lucky." Roper stood from his seat and placed the chair back in its original position. "Good luck." He grinned before exiting out the door.

Katie covered her mouth, tears falling again as her heart ached to be with Jonathan. Slowly, she stood up and let the blanket fall as she trekked to the giant bathroom. Katie took her gaudy wedding ring off, not wanting to put it back on ever again. She filled the giant bathtub with hot water and quickly got in as she wanted to rid her body of Daniel. Her hand traveled down to her belly again and she gently rubbed the barely noticeable bump. "Your father is coming to get us, sweetheart. We will be safe with him. I'm sure he will love you just as much as I do." She spoke to the baby growing inside of her. Katie never thought she would be a mother and didn't even know if she wanted to be one. It was too late for that now, but she couldn't ask for a better man to be the father. She wouldn't let Daniel take her child away from her. "I'll protect you, I promise."

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"Roper gave you coordinates?" Angela folded her arms over her chest and eyed Jonathan with suspicion. "I don't like the sound of that, not one bit. It sounds like some sort of trap and you're walking right into it." She sighed.

"Please, Angela I have to go alone. We don't have any other choice! Who knows what Daniel is doing to her right now. I won't let her suffer there a moment longer." He paused and pursed his lips. "Not when she's pregnant."

Over to the side of the room, Rob spit out his coffee loudly and looked at Jonathan, bewildered. "Beg pardon? She's what?!"

Angela glanced over to Rob and nodded to the mess he made, "Sorry you're out of the loop. Better clear that up before it stains."

Jonathan shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to waste another moment and looked at Angela. "If you send others in there, they will wind up dead. I am the only one who can do this. I will have to skip incarcerating Daniel for the time being so we can get Kate home."

"Fine. Pack your things-" Angela began to speak but then frowned, rushing over to the window. "Christ!! Come here you two!! Get a look at this!"

Rob and Pine rushed over to the window, seeing billowing black clouds of smoke too close for comfort.

Sensing something wrong, Angela backed up and grabbed her bag and computer. "We need to leave now. COME ON!!" She swung the door open, ushering the two men out. Just as she did so, a bullet shattered the glass of the window and missed Jonathan by inches. "Change of plans, Pine. You're gonna have to wait a bit before you go-"

"ANGELA!!" Jonathan stopped midway down the stairs. "I won't wait any longer! She needs me!!" He shouted.

The director rolled her eyes and pulled the love sick man down the stairs and to the emergency exit. "Not when you've got hitmen after your head!! We need to take care of that problem first. Not only is it putting you in danger, but it is putting Rob and I in danger too." She shook her head and yanked Jonathan's hood up as they got outside. "Don't think I'm not worried about Katie. I am terrified for the poor woman. I want nothing more than to bring her back, but we have local issues first and until that is taken care of… She will have to wait for us."

Pine hated this. He absolutely abhorred the fact Katie would have to wait longer. But since he did have people after him, he had to find a way to safely get that situation taken care of. "Fine, but as soon as I am in the clear I am going to get Kate. I will not have her wait for me any longer than she has to."

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Daniel sat in front of the fireplace in the giant lounge room, staring into the flames. While he was sexually satisfied for now, there was just one other itch he had to scratch. This thought had been lingering in the back of his mind for quite some time now. There was a loud knocking at the door, taking him out of his thoughts. "Come in."

Roper closed the door shut behind him and walked over to Daniel, taking a seat opposite him. "You wanted to talk?" Richard spoke, unamused.

"Yes and no." The crime lord answered, standing up. "Come. Walk with me in the gardens, I have important news to discuss with you." He waved his hand and led the way. The walk to the gardens was eerily silent, neither men attempting to even try small talk. "You see these flowers?" He gently touches a dead plant. "Nightshade they are called. Rather beautiful, but also a flower that symbolizes… deception." Daniel placed his hands behind his back, narrowing his eyes.

Roper scoffed, "Have we come to have a needless discussion about plants? Or do you have something else you'd like to tell me?" He reached into his suit coat pocket.

"Go ahead and pull out the gun, Roper. I know what you've been trying to do." Daniel raised his thick eyebrows. He watched as Richard did so and smiled, "Now, before you try to kill me I'd like to have my final speech first. I knew what I was getting into the moment I had you back in the spotlight. I knew that you were up to something because you were very adamant to form an alliance with me…" he took a step forward, holding one hand up as he was not done. "This is my home, Roper. I can prolong my inevitable death for as long as I please. Do you see those men, up on the roof?" He nodded to the snipers. "The minute you pull the trigger, they too will fire on you without hesitation."

Richard smirked and adjusted his grip on his gun. "Smart man, leading me out here under suspicion. I knew that my little game wouldn't last too much longer. Here I thought you were just an angry man child, but it seems you do have some intelligence beneath that thick skull of yours." He aimed his gun. "Now are you going to finish your villain monologue or what? You should know I also have back up. The guards walking around in the gardens are not yours."

Daniel nodded and stepped closer to Roper. "You should know that we never form alliances. That was my first clue that you had something else planned. My second clue was my now dead sister's hesitation to answer my questions about you. Thirdly… The cell phone signal we got from my room just an hour ago." He placed a hand on Roper's shoulder and gave a fake smile, "You will do well in the underworld."

Before Roper could do anything, he felt a searing pain in his abdomen followed by 3 more stings. He dropped his gun, looking down with wide eyes as blood began to stain his clothes. Daniel had stabbed him.

"The era of Richard Roper ends by my hand. See you in hell." Daniel stabbed the man once more before shoving him to the ground and watching him bleed out. The leader of Belladonna watched the life leave Roper's eyes and smiled wickedly. He glanced up and saw Katie watching from the window, a hand over her mouth and running away from it as soon as she made eye contact. Daniel growled, ordering his men to kill Ropers and get the corpses out as he stomped towards the castle.

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Katie slid down the wall, a hand over her chest and fear coursing through her body. She just witnessed Daniel murder Roper. "Jonathan please hurry." She cried softly, pulling her knees to her chest and praying that her beloved would come soon.

#flowers in blood #the night manager #the night manager canon divergence #jonathan pine #jonathan pine x ofc #tom hiddleston #my writing #writing #fanfic #spies in love

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shanastoryteller · 7 years

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they call her maid maleen

for the first few trembling years of her life, she is a princess. she is the daughter to the king, born of his beloved wife and of her visage. her dark eyes have the appearance of a smoky quarts and her mother carefully twists her mass of black hair into a hundred small braids down her back. she is a beautiful, quiet child, and for a while all is well. they call her princess maleen.

then her mother dies. it seems as if the king is determined to bury his love for his daughter along with his queen. he moves her to a different wing of the castle, and refuses to see her. her tutors are let go, and the nobles’ children are no longer allowed to play with her. only the maids look after her now.

the king remarries. the new queen gives birth to a son, and maleen is forgotten completely, banished from a home she still resides in and a life she can now only watch unfold.

the maids take care of her, braid her hair and kiss the blisters on her fingers, teach her to scrub at porcelain and polish silver, to clean a fireplace and mop polished marble floors.

they call her maid maleen.

the king has a son by his new wife, and then a daughter. they are pale and fair-haired like their mother, with only their dark eyes to show they are the king’s children. but they inherit none of their parents’ beauty, have faces that don’t look quite right and bodies that get stuck between gangly and chubby and never settle into one or the other. princess gisella and prince jan are privately regarded as unfortunate products of a lovely union.

maid maleen spends long hours working, and has neither the time nor funds for creams to soften her skin or oils to care for her hair, has never used face powder or lip color.

maid maleen is twenty three years old, and the most beautiful woman in the kingdom.

her braids are wrapped carefully atop her head, but when she lets them loose they hang past her hips. her dark skin is made even darker thanks to long hours working in the palace garden, and her eyes have never lost that same curious light. she walks straight and strong, years of hard labor giving her muscles and definition to her body that she never would have had as a princess. boys and girls give her long, considering looks and flirtatious smiles, and nobles have to double-take when she passes them by.

no one speaks of it anymore. but maid maleen looks ever more like her beautiful late mother, has the same eyes as her father, and dressing in ill-fitting cast offs and running her ragged can’t hide the truth.

maid maleen is the king’s daughter.

she has accepted her life as a maid in the palace she was one day set to inherit, and tries to see it as a gift. she sleeps with who she likes, may marry whichever of the charming boys from the city who’s smile she likes best. in the maids who raised her she has more mothers than she has fingers, and perhaps she longs for the days when she was a small princess, when she was the apple of her parents’ eye, when the whole of their nation was to be hers to inherit.

but then the blacksmith’s daughter lets her hands linger a little too long on her wrists, and maleen knows that she won’t be sleeping alone tonight. there are some things that worth more to her than a throne she was born to. she doesn’t miss the little girl she used to be.

until.

tensions have always run high between their kingdom and the neighboring one – too many squabbles over borders, over trade agreements, over patrols, over anything and everything the kings can find a reason to be upset about, it seems like. so when prince wolfgang is sent over, the whole palace is abuzz. the prince seems determined to inherit a peaceful land, and is coming over to talk with the king to do it.

maleen does not care for princes. nor for nobles of any rank, in fact. she remembers how they turned on her, she sees the small acts of pettiness and cruelty they thoughtlessly inflict on their servants, and she wants nothing to do with it. commoners may not be as educated as nobles, may not have as many objects to call their own, but maleen finds she prefers their company to that of lords. she’s uninterested in this prince, which is perhaps why she’s the one that gets sent to his rooms. her moms can trust that she at least won’t fawn over him.

“sir wolfgang,” she murmurs, pushing open his door and giving a low curtsy, keeping her eyes trained on his mud covered boots. “is there anything you require?”

silence. she can only stay bent in a curtsey so long before she loses patience. she’s almost given up on him, is about to cut her losses and call it a night when he says, hesitant, “queen sabine?”

her mother’s name is punch to her gut, and her head snaps up at the sound of it, the rolling fire of her temper bubbling just below her skin. “i am maid maleen,” she snaps, then tacks on “your highness,” after a moment’s consideration.

his cloak is half unbuttoned as he stares at her with a slack mouth. she supposes he would not look unhandsome if he were not currently doing his best to imitate a frog. he appears to be only a handful of years older than she is, and if she were not furious she would be impressed that he remembers her mother well enough to see sabine in her.

“maleen,” he repeats, and for a moment she wonders if he will recognize her as well, but he only says, “my apologies. if you would help me with my cloak, i would be much obliged.”

she’s instantly suspicious. she’s met nice nobles before, ones that were considerate and remembered her name and thanked her when she brought them wine. but she’s never met a nice prince before – they’re always of the worst sort. “yes, your highness,” she says, and the cloak is soaked through and clinging, it’s no wonder he’s struggling with it. once she’s gotten it off she hangs it to dry, then goes back to him. she slaps away his numb, struggling fingers and undoes the rest of the buckles and loops of his overly complicated clothing. she’s gotten down him down to an undershirt and pants when his hands grab hers. she blinks and looks up. he has freckles dusting across his nose.

“this is inappropriate,” he says, but honestly she’s stripped a lot of nobles, it wasn’t weird until he took her hands and looked at her like no one’s ever looked at her before.

“yes, your highness,” she agrees, and takes a step back. she places his clothes in front of a fire, curtsies, and leaves. she can feel the weight of his gaze on her all the way back to her room.

wolfgang continues his diplomatic agenda, having long meetings with the royal family. after, maleen goes and tends to him, setting out his food and taking care of his clothes, straightening up any mess that he’s made. at first he’s quiet, and he just watches her, but he quickly discovers that maleen has opinions and thoughts and isn’t afraid to share them. soon they’re debating the finer points of trade routes and arguing the effectiveness of a sliding tax scale, and maleen comes to cherish the evenings she spends with the prince, likes the way he speaks to her and looks at her, likes the shape of his smile.

weeks in she enters his room, dinner steaming in her hands and eager to continue their conversation about state funded orphanages versus a state funded foster system. he’s pacing and tense, shoulder stiff. “wolfgang,” she sets down the food and wipes her hands on her apron, “is something wrong?”

“is it true?” he asks, and he’s not looking at her. he’s always looked at her before.

“is what true?” she flinches away from his coldness, is already preparing to retreat and hide and beg someone else to watch over him.

he turns to her, and she’s baffled by the mixture of hope and anger on his face. “are you the king’s daughter? are you princess maleen?”

she takes a step back, “i am maid maleen.”

“please,” he follows her as she steps away from him, and her back hits the wall. he stops when he’s almost close enough to touch. “my father sent me here with the goal to seal our new treaty with a marriage. he expects me to marry princess gisella. but if you are the daughter of the king – then he will allow me to marry you instead!”

“who says i want to marry you?” she retorts, but he gets on bended knee and she freezes.

he holds a hand for her own, and against every bit of logic, she gives it to him. “maleen, i’ve never felt this way about anyone. i was willing enough to enter a loveless marriage before i knew what true love is, but now i do, and i can’t go back. marry me.”

she wants to. she thinks she loves him. she hadn’t been planning to fall in love with anyone. “i am the king’s daughter,” she tells him, “but i am no princess. i haven’t been a princess in a long time.”

he brings her hand to his mouth so he can kiss each one of her knuckles, “then we’ll have to change that.”

wolfgang goes to the king to make his case, to return maleen to her birthright and allow her to marry him.

it goes even worse than maleen had feared.

her father is furious. he’s so angry at the audacity of this request that prince wolfgang is thrown from the kingdom. so incensed is he, that guards drag maleen from her bed in the middle of the night and throw her into a tower. the door closes shut behind them, and she bangs on it and screams but no one comes for her.

there are no windows, and only one door with a sliding metal grate in the bottom. she’s high in the tower, she thinks, from the number of steps she’d been forced to climb, but she stands on a dirt floor. the room contains only the bare minimum needed for survival, and nothing more.

once a week food is slid through the slot in the door. she has to be careful, because if she eats it too fast they will not provide more, she will just starve. days turn to weeks turn to months, and she despairs of ever being let out of this tower. months turn to years, and she gives up hope entirely of leaving this tower. she considers refusing to eat, killing herself slowly through starvation, because death is preferable to life locked in this tower.

one night there’s a scuffle, and shouting, and for the first time since she was shoved inside the door opens. there’s a guard standing there, and princess gisella tentatively steps inside. “maid ma – i mean, maleen?”

maleen stares. this is the first time she’s seen another person in years, and suddenly for all the screaming she’d done she can’t find her voice. gisella takes another cautious step forward, “maleen, please – we don’t have much time.” she holds out her hand, “come with me.”

gisella is sixteen now. although she’ll never be a great beauty, she’s grown into many of the features that she was once mocked for. “where?” she asks, but takes gisella’s hand and lets her lead them down the twisting staircase. anyplace is better than the tower.

“i’m to be married in a week’s time to prince wolfgang.” maleen feels a sharp pain go through her chest. had wolfgang forgotten her? their farce of a romance was such a quick, shallow thing. she was a fool to fall for it in the first place. “i’m not going to show up. you are.”

she stares, “what?”

“wolfgang started a war over father locking you in the tower,” she explains, “but eventually it got to a point where neither could justify it, so our father and wolfgang’s decided our union would mean peace between our countries, as intended. but i don’t want to marry prince wolfgang, and he does not want to marry me.”

“i don’t understand,” she hadn’t paid much attention to the girl when they were in the palace together, and she’s regretting that now.

they finally reach the end of the tower. it’s the first time she’s breathed fresh air in years. she tries not to get distracted by it, and instead focuses on the carriage to her left, and the pure black mare laden like a pack mule on her right. “i’m leaving,” gisella says, “i don’t want to be wolfgang’s bride because i want to be klaus’s,” the guard smiles, and he must be klaus, the princess is rejecting a prince to run away with a commoner. “there’s a map and everything you need in the saddlebags. the wedding dress is waiting for you at the castle. no one will know you’re not me until wolfgang unveils you, and by then it will be too late. he will marry you, and i will be gone.”

“why are you doing this?” she asks.

gisella shrugs, “you’re my sister, and father is an idiot. i want you to be happy, and i want wolfgang to be happy, and i want to be happy too. this way we all get what we want. our brother will be waiting for you in wolfgang’s castle. he’ll help you.”

maleen is speechless. gisella grabs her in a quick hug – the only one they’ve ever shared – and then goes to the carriage with klaus trailing behind her. “i’ll see you again, princess maleen!”

she doesn’t have time for tears. she gets on the mare, and rides for the palace of the neighboring land.

she makes it just in time. she sneaks into the castle the night before the wedding, ducking around servants until she find her way to jan’s door. she knocks, tentative, wondering if this was a mistake and all one elaborate trap. but the door opens and his face slackens in relief, “finally!” he pulls her inside, and sits her down. there’s lukewarm water waiting for her so she can clean herself, and jan stands with his back to her the whole time, outlining the wedding and how it will go so she knows what to expect the next day. “father isn’t here,” he assures her, “he didn’t want to leave the kingdom, so i’m here in his stead.”

“won’t you miss your sister?” maleen finishes washing and wraps herself in a soft blanket.

“when i am king, gisella will return,” he says confidently, “she will come home and bring klaus, and you will rule here with wolfgang, and all will be well. our countries shall be great allies when it is me and wolfgang on the throne.”

he’s only a year older than gisella, just seventeen, and maleen feels oddly old next to them, feels old next to these children who know what they want and take it and don’t let anything stand in their way.

“we need to get your hair rebraided,” he says, “you should look perfect tomorrow. it’s your wedding day.”

she stares, aghast. “that will take all night!”

“i’ve brought help,” he says, and sends a servant down the hall. the servant returns with a half dozen of the maids who raised her, and who crowd forward and hug her and kiss her cheeks and say how much they’ve missed her. princess or not, bride or not, to them she will always be their little maid maleen.

it’s clear gisella picked her wedding dress with maleen in mind. it fits her for one thing, and is clinging and heavy, and it must have looked awful on gisella, but on her it’s perfect. her dress is accompanied by white silk gloves and a thick veil so that no one can see her, so that no one will know she’s not the daughter of the king they’re expecting to be there.

wolfgang is at the end of the aisle, looking like he’s going to an execution, and it takes more self control than maleen was anticipating not to go running to him. she turns to him, and he lifts her veil. he sees her and freezes, mouth sliding open. she winks at him, because they just need to keep it together until they’re married, he just has to keep his cool for a few minutes and they’ll have won it all. wolfgang closes his mouth and says nothing about how this is clearly not the bride he was supposed to marry. they turn so none of the guests can see them, and the priest gives maleen a confused look, but with a glare from wolfgang he continues on with the ceremony as if nothing is out of place.

“you may now kiss the bride,” the priest says, after what seems like an eternity.

wolfgang grabs her about the waist, dips her, and kisses her soundly on the mouth. her veil falls off and she can hear the horrified and shocked gasps of the guests, and under that jan’s laughter. when they break apart, foreheads still pressed together, she whispers, “hello, prince wolfgang.”

he kisses her again, quick and sweet, and does nothing at all to disguise the joy in his face. “hello, princess maleen.”

and they all lived happily ever after.

read more retold fairytales here

#retold fairytales #maid maleen #grimm fairy tales #my fic #so much so long #i'm so tired #goodnight #long post #so long #i'm sorry

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this-is-a-chat-astrophe · 6 years

Text

Oblivious ch 7

1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8

AO3

Marinette is afraid that she ruined two beautiful things before they really had the chance to begin. Chat Noir hasn’t texted her in days and a lack of akumas came with a lack of opportunities to see her crush. I must have made him uncomfortable, she thought to herself, face shoved into her pillow. She knows that she’s also ruined her friendship with Adrien by avoiding him. Maybe Chat somehow found out about her budding crush for Adrien and decided he didn’t want to talk to a person so fickle.

She screams into her pillow at two in the morning, drowning out the knock on her roof.

Adrien knows this is a bad idea but he has to know. She’s seemed so down the past few days and it hurts to not know the reason. He could text her, it would be so much easier than rousing Plagg in the middle of the night for a surprise excursion, but he is drawn to her. No matter how stabbing the pain of seeing her is, her sadness hurts even more. He wants to be close to her, even if it couldn’t be as Adrien.

When she doesn’t answer, he knocks on the balcony hatch a second time, this time in a short tune so she knows it’s deliberate as opposed to the wind tipping a flower pot.

The noise startles Marinette, but before fear can take control Tikki assures her there is no danger. “Just open it,” the cheery red companion says. Marinette gasps when bright green eyes peer at her when she opens the hatch.

“Hi, Marinette,” he says as casually as he can, heart beating painfully fast. She’s wearing Chat-noir themed pajamas: black paw-print patterned pajama pants with a green tee shirt. Hopefully the darkness hides his blush. “Can I come in?”

Marinette blushes and stutters but steps aside to clear his path. Chat jumps in, nearly falling off her lofted bed, and follows her down to the main area of her room. She sits on her desk chair and motions him to the chaise lounge.

“W-what’re you doing here?”

“I saw you earlier and you seemed sad so I was wondering if you were okay,” he says, the words well rehearsed. Plagg could recite the statement from memory due to the number of times Adrien practiced it during the day.

I can’t tell him the truth, she thinks to herself, but I don’t want to lie. She decides to bend the truth. “Things are weird between a friend and I right now. I know I have Alya and Nino but I feel like I can’t tell them everything so it’s been pretty lonely. It’s like there’s a part of me that only he gets.”

“Do you like him?” Adrien asks before he can stop the words. Stupid! he yells at himself. He doesn’t want know the answer but it’s too late now.

Blush dusts Marinette’s cheeks. It’s one thing to bend the truth for a vague question, but she can’t bring herself to lie when he asks her something so straightforward, no matter how much she’d prefer to not tell him. As his partner, she owes him honesty, even if he doesn’t know that’s the case.

“I don’t know. A few days ago my friend and I hung out like we’d done plenty of times before but something changed and I don’t know what to think anymore. I already have someone I like so I feel awful for even thinking that way about Adrien.”

Chat startles, nearly falling off the lounge. He catches himself halfway down, looking ridiculous with his body hanging off the chair.

“Are you okay?”

Marinette gets up to help but he is already back in his chair.

“Do you mean Adrien Agreste?”

Fidgeting hands and a quiet nod are her answer.

Chat barely hides a smile.

“We are -were- close friends, or at least I think we were.” Marinette can’t look Chat in the eyes but she can’t seem to shut her mouth either and the words pour out. “He always seems so lonely. He doesn’t have many friends, which I don’t understand because he’s a good, kind person, so I want to be there for him.”

Her words burn a hole in Chat’s heart. She thinks he’s a good, kind person, and that makes everything a little better. But her opening and closing statements cool the embers.

“You haven’t stopped being friends just because things are weird between you two, unless that’s what you want. And if you want to be there for m-him, why aren’t you?” He curses himself for his near slip-up. “He’s probably hurting too, if he’s really as lonely as you say.”

Marinette drops her head in her hands, groaning. “I know, and that makes me feel even worse about it! I don’t want to make him even lonelier but I don’t know what to do. I like someone else but recently whenever I see Adrien my chest hurts and I don’t know what to say.”

“Who is the other person you like?” Chat asks tentatively, anticipating heartbreak.

Neither of them can bare to look up.

“It doesn’t matter,” she mutters, voice small enough to draw Chat’s attention. He’s never heard her sound so insecure before. “He’s way out of my league so it’ll never happen.” After a pause, she adds, “Not that Adrien’s not out of my league. Either way I’m destined for heartbreak.”

Chat is dumbstruck. Marinette is one of the most confident people he’s ever met; he never imagined she would think of herself in such a way. She think he’s out of her league? It’s the complete opposite!

The dull sound of Chat’s boots moving across the room makes Marinette think she scared him away. Of course he’s going to leave, we barely know each other as Marinette and Chat Noir so I shouldn’t have unloaded so much on him, she chides herself. But then the footsteps get louder, as if he’s coming closer. Something falls over her and she nearly screams, but then she realizes it’s her blanket.

“I’m going to drop my transformation for a few minutes if that’s okay,” she hears through the fabric. She replies with a simple okay. “Plagg, claws in.” A faint gleam of green shows through the blanket but that’s all she sees.

“You got any cheese lady?”

Marinette yelps at the new voice.

“Plagg, don’t be rude,” Adrien reprimands. “There’s cheese in my bag.”

With Plagg taken care of, Adrien addresses the issue at hand. “I’m going to give you my hand, okay?”

“O-okay.”

A naked hand slides under the blanket, reaching for hers.

Internally, Marinette is freaking out. Chat Noir is in her room, in his civilian form, holding her hand. In this moment she could die happy, though she hopes that won’t be the case.

“I’ve heard that you can tell if someone’s lying by if their heart rate increases. I want you to know that I’m going to tell the truth.” It isn’t until he feels Marinette’s cool fingers press against his wrist that he continues. “There is nobody out of your league. You’re determined and beautiful and you can make anyone fall in love with you, sometimes without even trying. If you think someone’s out of your league, it’s because you underestimate yourself and overestimate them. In the end we’re all human.”

“Even you?” she jokes, knowing full well it’s true.

Chat chuckles. “Yes, princess, even me. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a teenage boy under the leather and cat ears.”

“A very busy one, apparently.” She means it as a joke but the words feel like acid in her mouth, corroding her smile from the inside out.

“Well yeah,” Chat answers, surprised. “But why do you say that?”

Marinette answers equally confused. “You haven’t answered my texts in the past few days.”

“I never got them.” Adrien’s words slow as understanding sinks in. He cranes his head to glare at the feline god atop his satchel. At Plagg, he mouths, we’re talking about this later. Plagg turns away. He doesn’t regret what he did. “You can try texting me now and we’ll see if it’ll go through.”

“My phone is, um, not on me. I think it’s on my desk.”

Adrien looks past her at the desk. The device isn’t there.

“Nope, not there.”

“In my vanity?”

The loss of contact when he stands makes the both of them shiver, not that either can see the other’s reaction.

“Still nothing,” he answers after checking each drawer.

“Dresser?”

Adrien raises a brow in question though she can’t see. “Do you really want me looking through your dresser?”

Embarrassed, Marinette squeaks. “Of course not! I meant on it.”

It’s Adrien’s turn to be embarrassed. He looks over at the dresser and on top of it is Marinette’s phone. He retrieves the device and gives it to Marinette.

Moments later Adrien’s phone dings. The lock screen reads One New Message. The message, from Marinette, is a shadowy photo of her underneath the blanket, smiling awkwardly. He finds it endearing and saves it, though he doesn’t tell her that. “I got it.”

Then he notices the time.

“Plagg, claws out.”

Chat Noir folds the blanket backwards, exposing Marinette’s face. She instantly blushes at the sight of his cocky grin in such close proximity to her face. “Looks like I gotta go, purrincess. This knight has an early engagement and needs his beauty sleep.” Suddenly Chat realizes how close they are and pulls back, creating space between them.

Halfway up the ladder to her loft Chat stops to give his love some parting advice. “I don’t know about the other guy, but maybe you should give Adrien a chance. I heard somewhere that he’s a good, kind person.” He puts an extra teasing emphasis on his last words, echoing Marinette’s compliment from earlier.

The plush toy Marinette launches at Chat Noir hits him square on the leg, catching him off guard and sending him to the floor with a loud thump.

Marinette is frozen in shock, horrified. She hadn’t thought she’d hit him, especially that hard.

Footsteps coming up the stairs send Marinette into action. She pulls the blanket from her shoulders and drapes it over Chat, hoping she can get to the door before her parents do so she can hide their view.

Tom and Sabine pop their heads up the same time Marinette kneels beside the attic hatch leading into her room.

“Sorry about the noise, I fell out of my chair,” she lies, hoping a story of her clumsiness will placate them.

“You should be more careful, dear,” says Sabine. Her husband stifles a yawn behind her. “We’re going back to bed. Goodnight Marinette, we love you.”

“Goodnight maman, papa. I love you too.”

Once they’re back down the stairs, Marinette and Chat both breathe a sigh of relief. Her parents would be extremely upset if they found a boy in her room this late at night, even if he was a hero. Especially if he was a hero, even, because of the secret identity and everything.

“I really do need to go.” Chat is still underneath the blanket, only the toes of one boot sticking out from the sheath of pink.

Marinette gathers the blanket from on top of the hero and giggles when she sees him. He’s posed, laying sideways on the floor with one knee bent and propping up his head on a hand, the other arm bent up. It’s a classic ‘draw me like one of your french girls’ pose.

“Goodnight Chat.”

He pauses, wondering if he should push it. “I…” Chat almosts drop the subject but then Marinette tilts her head and her hair falls in her face and she tucks it back behind her ear and Adrien’s heart bangs in his chest and the words come out on their own. “I meant what I said about giving Adrien a chance. I hope you at least talk to him, because he probably doesn’t even know why things are weird between you two right now. He probably thinks he lost one of his only friends and that it’s his fault.”

Marinette reaches out a hand to help him up. He takes it and tries to ignore how small her hands are in comparison to his. How didn’t he notice that earlier?

“You’re right, Chat.”

Chat salutes her and bids his lovely princess goodnight.

Their interaction runs through Marinette’s mind for the rest of the night. She plays it through over and over again, picking it apart, asking Tikki advice and insight. Chat Noir complimented her and confirmed that he wasn’t ignoring her, which was amazing. But he also practically recommended Marinette date Adrien, unaware that he is the other person she cares for. Isn’t that a bad sign? That means he doesn’t like her, right?

“I don’t know, Marinette.” Tikki says, cutting Marinette’s woeful rant short. “It might mean he doesn’t like you. It might also mean he’d rather you be with Adrien, whom he knows is a good person, than the other person who you didn’t say anything about since the lack of information made him think the worst. You won’t know if you don’t ask him.”

Marinette snorts. “There’s no way I’m just going to go up to him and say ‘hey hot stuff, you told me to try dating Adrien but did you do that because you aren’t interested in me or because you didn’t realize the other person I like is you and you would rather I be with someone that you know is a good person than someone you know nothing about?’ That’s not happening.”

“Are you going to follow his advice?”

Sigh. “I don’t know. I’m definitely going to talk to Adrien, though. It’s not fair for me to ignore him without giving him a reason why.”

“Apology cookies always work on me!” Tikki chirps.

This makes Marinette smile. “That settles it. I’m going to school tomorrow with a bag of cookies and an apology.”

_________________________

“Plagg, did you delete my messages?!”

Plagg flies to the top of the rock wall, hiding from his charge’s wrath despite knowing the worst Adrien would do is deny him cheese. “You were hurting, kid. I don’t like seeing my kittens hurting.”

Adrien’s glare softens. Plagg seems like a mean old grump but he really cares. “Plagg, come back down. I’ll get you some cheese before I go to bed.”

The god zips down from his perch into the arms of his human. “I’m glad you’re doing better,” he mumbles.

“She said she might like Adrien, meaning I still have a chance. I’m hoping luck is on my side just this once.”

‘I’m the god of bad luck so don’t hold your hopes up,’ Plagg thinks, but for once he keeps his mouth shut and lets Adrien have some peace.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #adrienette #marichat #my drabbles

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gkingoffez · 7 years

Text

of sudden executions and shattered hearts

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Words: 2,263

Summary: Rex pulls the blaster from the holster strapped to his hip. Kanan only has a millisecond to choke out a “No,” and half-lift his hand before the clone fires it point-blank into the back of Ezra’s head.

Warnings: tw blood and gore, graphic description of a fatal injury, head injury, execution style killing

AO3

Before

It is a night aboard the Ghost like any other- the whole crew is hanging out in the common room, Kanan sitting with an arm lazily around Hera in the lounge booth, both of them leaning into each other’s touch; Sabine carefully mixing paints and volatile powders together on a crate near the galley’s doorway, humming some old Mandalorian marching song as she works; Zeb stripping and cleaning his bow-rifle on the dejarik table while simultaneously trying to tell Kanan and Hera an old Lasat joke that needs so much cultural context to explain it almost isn’t worth it; Ezra and Chopper on the floor in the middle of the room, stripping apart old electrical circuits for spare conductive wires, and arguing in increasingly louder tones with each subsequent sentence and annoyed beep.

They are whole. Amongst the uncertainty of rebellion and tyranny, they are a family relaxing and enjoying each other’s company at the end of the day. None of them have any guarantee beyond this moment that they would all come together like this again, but none of them really pay this thought any mind. Now is the time for laughter, good company and leaving thoughts of war and death for later.

The door hisses open. Rex walks in, clone armour clinking. They all look up and greet him cheerfully, like an old friend come to visit. He nods in acknowledgment- his helmet hangs loosely in his hand.

Kanan raises his arm in welcome, smiling, then turns back in amusement to Zeb. The Lasat is now gesturing wildly with his hands, trying and failing to make his point and becoming increasingly frustrated with it. Hera is trying very hard not to laugh at him, and instead turns to ask Rex if he has heard from Ahsoka recently, as she had been trying to contact her earlier in the day to no response. Rex shakes his head in reply.

Chopper beeps something insulting at Ezra, and, scowling, Ezra snarks back a reply, punctuating his words with a threatening jab of a screwdriver. Sabine hmms in disappointment as she dips her fingers into the small mixing pot inspects it closely. She turns and adds the note ‘not pigmented enough, find more cobalt blue’ to a holopad.

Rex stands a moment as though hesitating, and then jerks to life and marches over to Ezra, leaning over the young boy’s back to survey the messy piles of electronics on the ground. Ezra eagerly jumps onto his knees and flashes a brilliant, toothy grin up at him, and proudly shows him the mess of wires he’d already managed to salvage. Rex, silent, reaches out and rustles Ezra’s hair between his fingers. With the other hand, he secures the old clone-issued helmet on his head.

A deep, desperate cry of danger suddenly thrums through the Force; Kanan’s head snaps around to look on instinct.

Rex pulls the blaster from the holster strapped to his hip. Kanan has a millisecond to choke out a “No,” and half-lift his hand before the clone fires it point-blank into the back of Ezra’s head.

After

Several things happen all at once.

Ezra- still with a residual smile tugging at his lips- slumps face-first to the ground like a puppet violently cut from its strings.

Hera gasps and turns her head so fast her lekku swing about wildly, confusion and shock rushing through her.

Zeb and Sabine both twist around with wide eyes towards the familiar noise, hands instinctively reaching for their own holsters. Chopper swivels his own optic lens to the scene before him, doesn’t make a sound.

Kanan is on his feet as quick as a lightning bolt, lightsaber in hand and ignited, blood rushing in his ears.

“No, what have you done?” he yells.

It is Kanan that Rex next turns the blaster on, and fires one, two, three bolts. Hera ducks under the dejarik table with her arms over her head as Kanan deflects the shots.

The third one rebounds directly back at Rex and hits him square in the chest, sending the clone soldier reeling back several steps. He growls like a wounded animal.

It is in this moment that Chopper roars to life and screams, a high-toned, inhuman waaaaaaahhhhhh, and rolls at Rex with all his extensions out and sparking. The droid manages to knock the blaster to the floor, and Rex resorts to his hands to try and fend the droid off. Zeb and Sabine, alarmed, step forward with weapons raised and desperate questions on their lips.

“Why is he-?”

“What the kriff-?”

In the distraction, Kanan is suddenly crouching at Ezra’s side, not quite remembering the steps he takes to get there.

Ezra is slumped face first and twisted on the metal floor. He is still and deathly quiet; arms limp at his side and one hand still loosely wrapped around a bunch of conductive wiring. The back of Ezra’s head is oozing red; the blood is congealing among clumps of dark hair and the whole twisted mess of grey matter and splintered white bone is smoking slightly. Kanan cannot breathe between the bile rising in his throat and the shock grasping at his heart.

He forces the shaking fingers of his hand to dig into the pulse point at Ezra’s neck, searching for a scrap of hope or anything, really. A sign that this was all a prank, a joke, a nightmare.

Kanan finds nothing, nothing, nothing there and a strangled, grief-tinged wheeze escapes his mouth.

“Good soldiers follow orders,” Rex hisses, and then kicks Chopper back, sending the droid skidding on his side across the room.

Both Sabine and Zeb, with realised war cries of grief, denial and rage rush forward to stop the clone from picking up his blaster again. There is a tussle and grunts and shrieks. Sabine aims her blaster right at Rex’s heart, and he knocks her arm way.

In the meantime, Hera has crawled up beside Kanan. She reaches out, calling for Ezra, Ezra, Ezra please, dragging his body into her arms, cradling his broken head in her lap. Crying and shaking. Blood immediately soaks her white shirt and orange overalls. Kanan clenches at Ezra’s jacket in a tight fist until he can feel his own fingernails cutting through the fabric into the palm of his hand. He can’t look at Hera.

To Kanan, it feels unreal. Everything swirls and blurs, sounds and sights shifting and blending. He sees the blue of his lightsaber, hears its familiar hum, and nothing much else.

“Kill the Jedi, good soldiers follow orders,” Rex yells, lunging for Kanan. Sabine shoots him in the leg. Zeb yanks him back with a snarl.

Something in the room shifts; an energy, wild and raging, courses through the air so loudly that even those without Force-sensitivity turn their heads towards is source. Even Chopper, having righted himself, shrinks away from it with a whimper.

Rex is yanked from Zeb’s grip by mighty invisible hands, flung up against the wall behind him and pinned down with such a force that all the air explodes out of his lungs.

Kanan, arm outstretched, gets slowly and deliberately to his feet. The room goes silent in terrified anticipation. Zeb and Sabine, breathless and bleeding, step back and watch with morbid interest.

Kanan steps forward with measured footsteps, brandishing his lightsaber before him. He flicks his hand and Rex’s helmet flies off and is thrown violently against another wall. The visor cracks as it hits the floor.

There are tears crawling down Kanan’s cheeks, but he makes no sound as he stares pointedly at Rex’s face and brings the glowing blade right up to the clone’s neck.

“Good soldiers… follow… follow,” Rex gasps and sneers, and struggles.

Kanan’s hands are shaking. All eyes are on him, all mouths either hanging open in shock or set in determined grimaces. The remaining crew all yearn for instant vengeance and vindication; they’ve had no time to process, no time to wish for anything else.

Hera gently rocks Ezra in her arms, running her fingers through his mangled hair. She does not do it consciously.

Ezra neither sees nor feels any of this.

“Good- good-good soldiers,” Rex whispers. He stops struggling and goes limp against the wall, his eyes and mouth twitching. “Follow ord- follow.”

He grunts, then turns his head and looks right into Kanan’s eyes, something wild and tortured passing between them. “Kill… me. Before I- follow orders. Before I- kill Jedi. Again.”

White noise rushes in Kanan’s ears as he pushes the lightsaber closer to Rex’s neck, all too happy to consider that request. One movement; a thrust forward, quick or maybe slower than was necessary; Rex’s head would roll off his neck and hit the metal floor with a thud. Kanan searches the clone’s- former friend’s, betrayer’s, murderer’s- face. There is a bruised, blood encrusted cut over Rex’s right ear, right where an old scar had been.

“Good soldiers…” Rex coughs, and screws his eyes shut. “Must follow… Ahsoka… Ezra… no, what have I…”

The world stops swirling. Crystal clear clarity slams into Kanan at full speed. Ezra is dead. Ezra, Ezra, sweetfunnybrave Ezra, dead. Kanan hadn’t protected him. Nothing he did would ever bring Ezra back or change what had happened tonight.

He snaps his eyes back to the fresh cut on Rex’s bald head. It is all so wrong and familiar and utterly cruel, to have history repeat itself in this way. Right then and there he wants to rush the Imperial palace on Coruscant itself, kill the Emperor himself and burn it all to the ground.

Kanan yells- guttural and animalistic. His world implodes in on itself. He rips the lightsaber back, turns it off and throws it away. It rolls to a stop somewhere close to the cracked clone helmet.

At the same time, Kanan reaches into the Force, pulls Rex forward and then slams him backwards, before releasing him entirely. The clone slides down the wall and slumps to the ground, unconscious.

“Bind his hands and feet, and lock him in a secure place. Make sure he can’t get out or hurt himself,” Kanan says, taking several unsteady steps backwards. He gulps around the lump in his throat, and sucks in a haggard breath. “We need to get him medical help as soon as we can. The Empire did this, I know they did.”

The room and its occupants hang for a moment in suspended shock, like a horrid spell had been cast over them all.

It breaks when Zeb lurches forward and crouches before Rex. Sabine, despite the storm raging in her mind and the shaking in her hands, keeps her pistol trained on the clone as the Lasat picks him up and slings him over his shoulder. Neither Sabine or Zeb look in Hera’s direction.

Kanan turns around only when Rex and Zeb have left the room. His legs give out beneath him, and pain splinters through his knees as they hit the metal floor

Hera is now bent over, pressing her lips to the undamaged top of Ezra’s head, and haltingly singing a soft Rylothian lullaby. Her breaths come out increasingly ragged and fast. Chopper wheels over and pokes uncertainly at Ezra’s legs, beeping sadly.

Sabine cannot breathe. “How did this happen? How could he- how could we-”she hisses, gripping at the roots of her blue-tinted hair. Her fingers are streaked with blood and paint, red and blue.

Kanan cannot answer, any words of clarification or reassurance die in his throat. He sees Ezra, lying face-first in a small undignified heap. He blinks, and sees Depa Billaba sprawled similarly in the dirt. He sees blood, and hears his former friends yelling, “Good soldiers follow-” and smells the plasma of blaster bolts in the air, and the visceral stench of open, bleeding wounds. He gags and doubles over.

Depa Billaba hadn’t had a chance. Ezra Bridger hadn’t even realised what had happened. He’d died in an instant with a bright smile on his young face.

Sabine cries in frustration and stalks from the room with heavy metallic footsteps, unable to control the potent energy building up inside her. Her fingers itch and curl into fists, and Zeb has to stop her from breaking down the door to the supply room where he has stashed Rex’s unconscious form.

Zeb pulls Sabine tight to his chest and lift her from the ground, and all he wants to do is roar alongside her as she screams for blood and vengeance on Ezra’s behalf.

Back in the common room, Hera suddenly goes quiet. Her tears run out, and her breathing returns, hiccupping, to a vaguely normal rhythm. She is left clutching at a corpse that’s growing colder and stiffer by the minute. Her gloves are covered in blood and brain matter and some of it wipes off onto Chopper’s chasse as she reaches out to comfort the far-too quiet astromech by her side. Hera looks to Kanan and has to close her eyes against the sight.

Kanan is curled forward on his knees, hands loosely covering his face- a cruel parody of a prayer pose. He can feel himself collapsing inwards, body and mind being pulled towards a gaping black hole that had appeared in his centre, somewhere next to his heart. He does not shake or cry, merely looks at the scuffed metal floor through the gaps in his fingers, feeling nothing and everything.

Somewhere in the endless folds of the living Force, Ezra awakens alone, confused and scared.

They are broken.

So, I was trawling about twenty pages deep in someone’s Star Wars Rebels tag on tumblr the other day ( @eyeloch hello I think it was yours *waves*) and found a post that headcannoned each of the Ghost crew’s fears, and this was essentially what the OP had down for Kanan- Rex walking in and just shooting Ezra. It hit me so hard I audibly gasped.

So here we are, with this self-indulgent angst fest, and me realising I am a complete masochist. This is the darkest thing I’ve ever published online.

(My Kanan pop vinyl figure is staring at me again. Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry for hurting your son.)

I have started a couple of other fics that explore some of Kanan’s other fears for Ezra, so I might (?) make this a little series? We’ll see.

Some extra notes:

- not posting this on FFN.net because I know it’s more strict on stuff like that than AO3

- I’m gonna follow this up with a light fluffy fic, which I’ll hopefully post sometime tonight

- Do you know???? How long I sat here agonising over the title????

- Happy Easter/ have a good weekend everybody!

#star wars rebels #ezra bridger #tw blood and gore #my writing #this is so dang angsty i've been having feelings about it for so long #gosh i feel terrible but i also live for the angst #im sorry everyone #also i really enjoyed this more experimental writing style

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